I’m taking time out of my busy schedule; my fiercely red Asana, a couple of unread emails, a concept note that needs editing (not my fault, I promise) to type this. Why? A sensible individual might ask. Would it not make sense for me to work and ensure that at least the red in my Asana is gone? Or better yet, edit the concept note for it is needed in the next 20 minutes. I choose to vent, and where else could I have gotten a better venting machine than my own little corner on medium.

I’m moving cities. Yes, I’m finally an adult one with bills and the mind to make long-term decisions. One such decision is leaping faith, literally from Nairobi. I made this decision a few weeks back. The main reason being, why not? Since I was in Mombasa, I started house hunting. Let me make it clear that most of the stories about the housing situation in Mombasa are false. The chaos is the same in either city. Finding a house isn’t easy neither is it cheap. Again, adulting! After two weeks of searching, I found the house for me, or so I thought. It is a one-bedroom penthouse. It is ideal. The house comes with a beautiful picturesque view. The catch is that the house is out of my budget. The landlord, who is an Old Arab man with F**** you money, is unrelenting. He stays at Ksh27,500. Did I bargain? Yes, so much that I gave up. He pushed me to the wall and made his final decision. Do I sense that my skin colour has something to do with this? Hell yes, but don’t get me started on this.

I’m heartbroken, to say the least. The house would have served my content creation purpose and the lifestyle that I have adopted for the last couple of months. I came home tired, hungry and drenched in sweat ( It is 32 degrees in Mombasa). My heart ached, and to some extent, even as I write this a few hours later, it still does. I know a thing or two about finances, and because of this, I find it hard to spend all, if not most, of my monthly income on rent. Especially if the said house has been uninhabited for the last 4 years, it seems only fair to have the rent waived.

Like any wise person, I sought counsel from my friends and family. I called mom, who told me to get the house; after all, I could afford it. “You are young; money will come she said” before hanging up, her hens were calling. We all have priorities, I guess. I can afford the house; my issue is that the landlord can reduce the rent but is vehemently choosing not to!

I’m choosing to make peace with the fact that maybe this house was just not mine. I’m still clinging to the hope that what's yours will find you, maybe my house will find me. This experience has reminded me of the importance of letting go. It is okay to let go. It's okay to make peace with things that you cannot control. It is okay to walk away (even though) sometimes it's with a heavy heart. The timing is not right. I turned down the offer and will continue to house hunt. Until my house finds me, or I find it.

Vegan,foodie,stylist,empath, Femininst, Meninist