Wambui_

[Wambui_ @Wamb_izzy]

@catalyst007_ Lack of resources in the chest area

[C-MAC Daddy @PriYeah7]

Hot girl medicine advice that isn't clinical:
1. Get your tragus or your daith pierced before the stethoscope years
2. Make sure all your piercings are titanium so they can go in the MRI with you
3. Find hairstyles that aren't a ponytail so your hair doesn't fall out

[Wambui_ @Wamb_izzy]

You could create your own lipstick brand then employ and empower only men. What’s stopping you?

[Francis Gaitho @FGaitho237]

This is a women’s brand, founded by a woman, employing and empowering only women.

On the flip-side, men (especially Boomers & Gen X) think with their dicks and work to disenfranchise the boy-child.

Even laws to disempower men were promoted by dead demagogue Raila Odinga.

[Sholla Ard 🇰🇪 @sholard_mancity]

My people, thank you to everyone supporting this public-funded initiative through our till number 6280853.
There are no sponsors behind us.
No company.
No politician.
Just Kenyans protecting Kenyans.
Your support is what keeps these tests going.

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

People think depression means you are dramatic, soaked in tears, throwing plates at the wall. I wish it were that loud. I could work with loud. Depression for me is the volume turned down on everything until it is just a hum in the next room. I am not sobbing on the floor. I am sitting on the edge of the bed staring at a sock like it is a question I do not understand.

It feels like being stuck in a twilight zone between channels. Not darkness. Static. The show never starts. The credits never roll. Just this gray screen in my head where thoughts try to load and spin forever. I open a message and my brain just… stalls. The words might as well be in a language I used to know. I put the phone down as if there is something else I am about to do. There is nothing else I am about to do.

I am not crying. I am not screaming. I am scrolling. I am watching my thumb move and feeling nothing about the faces, the jokes, the news. Someone gets engaged. Someone gets fired. Someone posts a sunset that would have made me ache once. Now it is just color on glass. I double tap because that is muscle memory. My heart does not register.

People ask how are you and I say tired because “tired” is the only word civilians understand. Tired is safe. Tired sounds fixable. Drink water. Go to bed earlier. Take a weekend off. I smile and nod because it is easier than explaining that sleep is not the problem. I wake up and the air already weighs too much.

Depression for me is the cursor blinking on an empty document while my brain is a closed fist. I know what I should say. I just cannot pick up the words. They slide off me. I make a to do list and stare at the first item until it feels like a stranger’s handwriting. I walk from room to room forgetting what task I sent myself here to perform. My body feels like a slow website. You click and nothing loads, but you keep clicking even though you know better.

Nothing is interesting. Not in the “everything sucks” way. More in the “everything is behind glass” way. I watch my own life like CCTV footage. There I am making coffee. There I am opening the fridge. There I am laughing at the right spot in a conversation and hearing the laugh like a recording from an older version of me. Other people talk about things they love and the floor does not rise to meet me. I am standing in a room where the gravity forgot my name.

Blank is the right word. Not heartbroken. Not angry. Just wiped. Like someone went through my mind with a solvent and took the color, the labels, the reasons. I sit on the couch and feel like an unplugged lamp. The socket is right there. I could, in theory, stand up and connect myself. In practice I just watch dust moving in the light and call it effort.

These days are hard in a very stupid way. There is no movie scene for them. No powerful monologue. No smashed glass. Just dishes sitting a little too long in the sink because the thought of rinsing them feels like lifting a car. Just unanswered texts accumulating like unpaid bills in the corner of my screen. Just showers skipped because the idea of starting and finishing one is too many steps in a row.

It is hard to ask for help from inside a blank. How do you describe a nothing that feels like everything. How do you say I am not okay without evidence like tears or dramatic ruins. It feels fraudulent to say I am struggling when I can still walk, still talk, still show up and nod. On paper I am fine. On paper I am functioning. Inside the paper there is just fog.

There are moments, small and embarrassing, where a crack appears. A dog on the street looks at me too long and something wobbles in my chest. A song I have not heard in years catches my ribs at a weird angle. The smell of clean laundry hits me on a Tuesday and I almost, almost remember what it feels like to care. Then it slides away again and I am back in the twilight.

If you have never been here, you might think depression is a storm.

[Kinoti Joseph @KinotiJoseph]

I’m currently stuck at Kenyatta National Hospital (KNH), Surgical Ward 4C, and I honestly don’t know what else to do.

The SHA officer handling discharges at the 4D office is very rude, corrupt, and abusive.

Since yesterday, I’ve been waiting in line to have my child discharged.

This officer keeps ignoring the queue and only attends to people she personally calls aside - people she seems to know.

We’ve been here since yesterday, yet she just walks out, brings in others, processes them fast, and leaves the rest of us stranded.

When I politely told her that what she was doing was unfair, she got angry, banged her office door, and later called me in.

Inside, she fined me Ksh 2,070, saying my baby overstayed an extra day after discharge.

I immediately rushed to Malipo Center downstairs and paid the amount, but when I came back, she said she wouldn’t discharge my baby unless I wrote an apology letter to her, stamped by the area Chief!

I never insulted her or caused a scene - I only questioned her favoritism and suspicious behavior. Right now, my baby is being held at KNH just because I refused to bow to corruption and humiliation.

I’m pleading for help. Can the relevant authorities please intervene?

This is unfair, and no parent should go through this kind of frustration when their child is in hospital.

@HonAdenDuale @_shakenya @KNH_hospital @DrMercyHealth @BravinYuri @WilliamsRuto @MigunaMiguna @HEBabuOwino @MikeSonko @edwinsifuna @AokoOtieno_

[Shoba Gatimu @shobanes]

Wacheni niwaibie siri ya kununua vitunguu.
1. Don't buy the net ones. Nunua zile zime mwagwa.
2. Make sure zimekauka vizuri mpaka the skin just rubs off. They should not look 'Fresh' and rubbery on top.
3. Store in a cool dry place.
Do this and you can buy onions once in 2 months

[Cjay @ced_jayy]

posted for saftey purposes.. this may save someones life one day 🙏🏾

[Wambui_ @Wamb_izzy]

@sebas_arruarana @American_Heart [email protected]

[Musa @BoyDsrptd]

here are my rate options

[Mavin Mabonga @Mabonga_254]

On the night of 7th August 2025, while travelling from Kisii to Nairobi via ENA Coach, I unfortunately lost my bag after a passenger alighted with it at Kwambira – Limuru.

The bag contained some very important items, including:

My Original Degree Certificate
KCSE Certificate
KCPE Certificate
University Transcripts
Laptop and some personal clothes
Attached is the copy of my KCSE CERTIFICATE bearing the name Casmir Orori Maturi

I am only interested with the CERTIFICATES, anyone who will help me get the documents, be assured of a token of appreciation.

@Casmir52909322
If anyone has any information or may have come across these documents, kindly reach out to me through 0768 802 025 / 0726347051.

[Africa Today Media Group @africatodayMG]

Tanzania 🇹🇿

It's 9:15 PM in Tanzania, and the whole country is in darkness. No electricity, no internet, and most radio stations have been shut down.

There are huge arrests everywhere in Tanzania. So far, 816 people have lost their lives.

Tomorrow, people are planning to continue the demonstrations.

With our correspondents in Tanzania, we'll continue providing updates on the situation in Tanzania. Stay tuned here @africatodayMG

[The Kenyan Vigilante @KenyanSays]

Tanzanian electoral officials were captured on camera casting multiple votes for President Samia Suluhu, marking entire booklets in her favor as protests by youths continue across the country!

[Dedan Kimathi University of Technology @DeKUTkenya]

We also have Coffee, Vanilla Chia, Vanilla and Strawberry yoghurts.

[Larry Madowo @LarryMadowo]

Tanzania appears to have shut down the internet on Election Day, Netblocks data shows

[millicent bystander @Nyokaffiii]

Good day friends. My friend's aunt’s spine surgery is scheduled two weeks from now, and we kindly need your help in ensuring she can access the care that she needs.
*To donate*
MPESA Paybill NO: 8034964
ACCOUNT:1
PAYBILL NAME: CHRISTINE WAIRIMU WACHANIA MEDICAL FUND.
RT please

[The LIGHT☄️ @Adasu_d_gr8]

I have never come across a kid that suffered so much like Ochanya.

Sh returns from school 2pm.

Victor returns home by 3 and then forces himself on her.

He continued raping her for months.

Then one day, the Father came home and caught his son raping the innocent girl with tears in her eyes.

Instead of stopping his son in his early 20, he pushed the son away from her, and climbed the innocent girl.

The next day, the man returned home very early from work to wait for the girl.

Immediately she arrived from school, he began to rape her. His son walked in, and took turn.

It continued for years.
Father and son raping a girl of eight years turn by turn, year after year—tell me something more cruel and barbaric.

The little girl from 8 years became 10, and became very sick.

The aunty, Winifred's mum found out, but she kept shut. When the doctor's test results came out, she hid the results.

Yes, she's an accomplice.

At the early stage of discovering that Ochanya was sick, it would have been easier to treat, but she deprived her treatment.

While the girl was sick, it didn't stop Winifred's Father and brother from still raping her.

For five years, nobody in the family reported the case to the police.

It was Ochanya that opened up when she was already dying, but Mr. Andrew like a Nigerian politician still fought his way through the case.

Ochanya finally d!ed at 13, guess what! Winifred's Father influenced the doctor's autopsy.

That's how heartless humans can be.

Winfred is living her career. Victor, the rapist is living his dream career. The rapist-father is still a lecturer teaching teenagers. (Imagine a rapist among teenagers).

But they deprived Ochanya her dream of becoming a medica doctor.

Now look at the smile on Victor's face, but another family would weep at the thought of his actions.

How do they sleep in that home knowing that they are all rapists, murderers and accomplices?

Until Justice is served, we remain Ochanya's voice.

Ochanya deserves justice.
Silence in the face of injustice is INJUSTICE—and evil.