Addiction is a psychological and or physical inability to stop consuming a drug, a chemical, a substance or an activity. Where do you lie?

We always have a choice.

You most definitely own a smartphone, but did you know that an average smartphone user checks their phone 47 times a day? Are you among the 85% who check their phones within 1 hour of waking up or going to sleep?

Smartphone addiction is real. In other words nomophobia (described as the fear of not having your phone around you) is a thorn in the flesh.

Statistics show that the top three countries affected by this issue are Brazil , China and United States of America respectively.

66% of adults is said to be addicted to their devices while 65% sleep with their phones which is similar to about 2 in 3 people. It is a rising trend in students.

An interesting discovery shows that there are some students who even shower with their phones!

What are the causes of this addiction?
Well, there are a few reasons behind the human kind clinging to their phones. Games, surfing, dating sites, online shopping and pornography are some of the reasons leading to this alarming discovery.

Intermittent rewards is also a huge contributor. This refers to the irresistible feeling of uncertainty making you check your phone now and then. Who knows, that company may have emailed you to start your new job on Monday. Or, remember that crush you were eyeing the other day…they might have texted back.

You might still not be convinced. How will you know that you are addicted to your phone?

First off, you do the check. You start searching for your phone frantically.

Anxiety dreams are real. Sometimes, you even dream about losing your phone. And that stresses you out.

Breaking the rules. Would you rather leave your phone home or risk reporting late for your job? Well? We always do the U-turn incase we left our phones behind.

You become aggressive towards not finding your phone. Where could that thing be?

You have checked everywhere and you cannot find it. Feel like banging your hand into a wall? Lol. Been there, done that.

You practise phone snubbing or in other words phubbing. This is always checking your phone for any notifications even when you are with your friends or family.

We all do.
Have you wondered why the leading technology innovators shield their loved ones from using their own devices? Isn’t it ironical that Bill and Melinda Gates only allow their kids to own phones after they have reached the age of 13?

The renowned owners of Microsoft even have a parenting recipe. Interesting right? Here it is.
No screens before bed.
No phones at meal time.
Must be 14 years and above to own a phone.

Here is a conversation between Melinda Gates and Steve Jobs ( the owner of apple). “ So your kids must love the ipad?” It was the company’s first tablet, duuh?! “They haven’t used it .” He
told her. These parents limit how much technology their kids use at home.

Chained but we can break free.

Are there ways to curb nomophobia?
Fortunately yes.

One important thing to note though, if you want this to work, you have to admit to yourself that you are indeed addicted to your phone.

Most importantly, disable all notifications in your settings. You do not have to know that someone liked your post on instagram or someone sent you a friend request on facebook.

Delete all the apps that you do not use. Not only will you reduce the amount of time you spend on your phone, but you will also free up some space for more important and necessary things.

Set specific boundaries for smartphone usage.

You can also download apps like SPACE, MUTE and MOMENT that were specifically designed to check how much of your waking time you spend on your phone.

I hope I gave you value for your time. Sending love and warm hugs. Thank you.

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She lay her whole life aside for me, to serve me, protect me, guide me and ensure that I grow up into a responsible adult. I must say thank you in the highest forms I know.
This, I tell my dad who is busy on his phone, probably working as usual.
Uuuugh! Can’t he just spare a minute so that we can have a meaningful conversation? I know he’s busy but he can’t be too busy for me, can he?
I take a seat near him and watch as he continues scribbling numbers on a piece of paper.
His glasses are sitting on the tip of his nose. His eyes seem weary. The veins on his hands are screaming fatigue. The scarce white strands of hair don’t betray his age at all.

An old photo falls on the floor and I am quick to pick it up. It’s a picture of a one day old baby being held gently by this same young-old man. Years have gone by, I must admit. That young baby, is now a 25 year old woman.
The strong hands that carried her then are feeble and shaking, hardly holding a pen. Years of toil and service to ensure that I lacked nothing of everything.

The man behind my smiles. The fuel of my achievements. The stronghold of my life. He took a great part in raising me. He protected me at night from the big storms that raided our area to the big and bad “Simba” in the bed time stories he narrated to me.
Whenever I had an issue and called mom, she was so quick to say “Ongea na babako.” And true to his words, he always came through.
As the head of the family, he made sure that we never lost direction.

He who wore the same pair of shoes from January to December so that I would wear ten more in the same span of time.
He who had sleepless nights so that I had enough of mine in the house he provided.
Whenever he went before God, my name would come first before his. All the good things he prayed for me, the heavens answered.
If I tell you prayer is the highest form of love, will you raise one eyebrow and give me that look?

Fast forward to now, I just want to say thank you to my father, the one who took care of the hospital bills from the day I was born to any time that I fell sick, the one who enabled me to get to where I am right now.
Thank you to anyone who played a father role to my life, too. You are not forgotten.
Much emphasis is kept on the mother which is understandable because she carries a baby for 9 months but let’s not forget the man who helps her through the whole journey and never leaves her side. The one who she leans on in case things get too heavy for her.

A father.

So I take back my words.
When I grow up, I will build my mother and father a big and beautiful house. They will not lack anything. I won’t try to repay them because I cannot, rather I will go through thick and thin to make their lives better, like they did mine.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, FATHERS.

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Katika enzi hizi, ni vigumu mno mtu kujielewa bila kuhusisha ndugu au mwandani. Pilkapilka za maisha ya sasa haziruhusu kamwe insi kujitambua kirahisi bila jamii.

Itapataje maana nafsi yake eti anajulikana kama mja akosaye mahusiano yoyote ile. Upweke ni uvundo. Hapo hawakukosea hata kidogo.

Binadamu anavyoendelea kukua, anapewa wosia wa kutangamana na watu ili awe mtu kamili. Mazingira yake nayo ni motisha tosha ya kujuana na watu wa muonekano na hulka ainati.

Rafiki ni nani? Sahibu ni mtu anayekufaa wakati wa furaha na majonzi. Ni nguzo nzito na dhabiti katika jamii kwa jumla. Urafiki ni ukuzaji wa familia, kijiji, kampuni, kiwanda na hali kadhalika.

Aisifuye mvua, imemnyea. Marafiki wamenifaa mimi haswa katika nyanja mbali mbali. Nimeweza kuona maana ya udugu na kusherehekea matunda ya mti huu nilioukuza kwa subira ivutayo kheri.

Urafiki ni imani, uaminifu matumaini, taadhima, ibada na kikubwa zaidi, urafiki ni UPENDO.

Rafiki hodari aanze na wewe.

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Whenever I heard those loud footsteps getting nearer at night, I’d wish my existence away.
Her stilettos would always announce her arrival. And she took pride in that. She’d get home smiling broadly with malice written all over her face. I would remind myself to breathe because I skipped that specific class where the fortunate were taught how to stand up to their fears.

“Where are you, Lisa? Do not make me come get you,” that woman’s voice made me jump. Reality knocks you down so hard. I sat on the bedside of my ailing father. His health deteriorated day in day out. There was no ounce of hope but my fingers were always crossed.

Unfairly, we leave so much in the dark when the light overwhelms us. My dad used to be a happy, energetic and bubbly soul. The irony giggled at me when I looked at his eyes that could hardly hold a gaze.
I was yanked away by my shoulder. She always spat when she talked. As she hurled her words at me, I stood there, numb to my nails.

Then what I had waited for came. The first blow didn’t get me to the ground. The third one did. My face kissed the cold floor as I took in her blue suede heels. They had a nice shimmer, they were so pretty to look at.

“Get up!”she spat. I did. Why wouldn’t I? I had grown fond of the slaps, like caresses from a lover.Tears flooded my hazel eyes when I saw my father’s face. It was indeed heartbreaking.

My mind became blurred but one thing remained crystal clear. That woman was the death of us. I was fed up. She had managed to ensure my father was bedridden and that I, her own daughter, would never taste peace. Yes, that woman is my mother.

I walked to the kitchen to grab the only tool I had interned with. My mother took a step back when she saw me confidently holding the same knife. I kept walking towards her and didn’t think twice when I stabbed her twelve times.
I had learnt from the best. It was time I returned the favour.

As she lay in her pool of blood, I took my father’s hand and placed a warm kiss with my dry cracked lips.
I stabbed him too. He never deserved that pain.
All my life I had been watching very keenly. Nothing would miss my eyes, just like the hawk.
When the you want to talk about violent homes, please come find me.

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