We’re going to need a new diary


On the weekend before Christmas, in the 34th minute of a game against Manchester City, with the scores level at 1-1, Crystal Palace’s winger Andros Townsend marked his 100th game with a beautiful goal. It was the kind of goal commentators would call, “an absolute screamer.”

A poor clearance from the ManCity defense brought the ball to Townsend; 29 yards away from goal. And Townsend struck it with spectacular flourish, hammering the ball into the top corner at a whooping 67mph. Ederson, the ManCity keeper, barely saw it coming.

I didn’t either.

I had my money on City. Crystal Palace had their toes dipped into the relegation zone, while City was 2-nd in the league table, and current titleholders – a goddamn football powerhouse. All the math showed ManCity was likely to win. And I bet the ManCity players also reckoned they’d grab a win, go home, and slaughter some goats. Instead they lost 4-3 to a determined Palace.

After the game, only one name was on everyone’s lips.

Andros Townsend.

Andros Townsend.

He began his football career at Tottenham Hotspurs, joining the academy at 10. A quick Wikipedia search reveals that he debuted for the senior team in 2011, scoring the first goal and being voted the Man of the Match. But he didn’t make many appearances for Tottenham. Most of his stint was spent being loaned out to clubs like Leeds United and Millwall, second-tier teams, really. Back at Tottenham, he’d mostly come on as a sub, or not played at all.

In January 2016 he was sold to Newcastle with a price tag of 12 million pounds. On the night before his move, Townsend tweeted, “As soon as I knew of Newcastle’s interest, they were the only club I wanted to join.”

That seems to say a lot about what he thought of Tottenham, doesn’t it? I’d feel bad too, if I wasn’t getting any playing time.

Townsend only stayed at Newcastle for one season, though. And in July 2016 he moved to Crystal Palace, where he signed a 5 year contract and now dons the No. 10 shirt.

I’ve also seen pictures of his wife, folks. And let’s just say Townsend is doing well for himself.

Still, I wonder how Townsend felt throughout the loan spells. Did he feel like Tottenham had no use for him? Did he question his worth on the pitch? Or maybe playing for other clubs, under different managers with different philosophies, gave him priceless experience and a tougher spine.

Whatever, his goal will undoubtedly go down as one of the best this season. Pundits will tweet about it and commentators will rehash it every time Townsend steps onto the pitch. And it’ll give SuperSport some awesome footage for their Premier League promos.

Townsend’s goal also gave me a glimmer of hope for the coming year.

Craft It had just closed for the holidays, and it was just as well because I was completely burnt out, I didn’t think I had enough chink in the armor to write consistently for another year (2019). And another year. And another. Could my art sustain the lifestyle I want? Am I even good enough?

Over time, I’ve learnt that it helps to ignore these questions. Best to just carry on. To keep taking risks. To swallow your doubts and take the damn shot.

That’s what Townsend’s goal means to me.


Write down your goals. Every motivational speaker says it’s important. Every therapist recommends it. Your Geography teacher instructs it. Your mentor says you should put them in a Word document and send a copy.

Before last year, I’d never paid attention to this advice. I never bothered, because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, not exactly, anyway.

Ten days before Townsend’s goal, with my mentor’s help, I finally wrote down my goals for 2019 in a diary.

(At the risk of watering them down, I won’t share what these goals are.)

But I’ve had the diary for three years. It’s orange and leather-bound, and all the entries are in pencil.


January, 2016. I write some bleeding poetry in the diary.

I write the stuff I’m too embarrassed to post on my WordPress blog. I’m in my freshman year, and I’m in love with a girl I met on a marble staircase. We bloom like a flame tree. She goes through a choker phase. I wear baggy jeans. Nights I write about her wine-soaked lips in my diary. In the streets we hold hands as she whispers something dirty in my ear. Her hand fits. Everyone says we make a cute couple.

We fuck a lot, too. Her moans and whimpers inflate my ego to high heaven. I get on Snapchat, then I get rid of my bad jeans.

For our two-month anniversary I buy her a box of Belgian chocolate. It’s particularly significant because she grew up in Belgium. She hugs me and says, “I love you so much baby.”

Weeks turn into months. I gain weight. Then I lose weight. My girl and I talk on the phone for hours. I keep writing on my blog. My readership grows. But my relationship disintegrates so slowly I barely notice it. Then I misplace the diary.

A few weeks before Christmas, after a small fight, my girl texts me: “I think we should break up.”

I agree, maybe a bit too quickly.

The following year, I find the diary jammed into a drawer; along with USB cables, campus orientation documents, and my high school yearbook. I retrieve the diary and use it for shorthand during class lectures. I’m less excited about school now. Girls are my blissful distraction. My GPA plummets. I smoke pot. I shift from beer to vodka. Then I turn 22.

I continue with my blog. I write about other people. I post short profile interviews on my IG. I struggle with consistency. I lack discipline. Then Craft It comes.

Finally they’re paying me for this shit. I become a columnist. I drink lots of coffee. For the first time in my life I’m chasing deadlines. I’m thrilled as hell. I meet other girls. And I meet one in particular who makes me want to write my little heart out. So I make her my muse. I obsess over her. I don’t write about her in my diary. But I write about her everywhere else. Every day I plot how I’m going to make her mine, even though she’s made it clear she can’t/won’t reciprocate. I’m not convinced. I hold on to the distant dream that I can get her to like me.

Then, like a fine joke played on my heartstrings, she gets into a plane and goes to Belgium.

Wow. Just, wow.


2018. I scribble a scanty draft for my next ‘Dusty Rugs’ article in the diary. The idea is hot. I’m excited as hell. My hands are trembling all over the place. I can barely hold the pencil. I feel like Earnest freaking Hemingway, for chrissake.

That night I type out the draft. I can’t sleep. I’m jacked on caffeine. Oh man, I’m on my way to a goddamn Pulitzer.

At 2 a.m. I shut down the computer and pour myself a congratulatory glass of juice. I leaf through the diary between sips. It’s like looking in a mirror made of graphite. I meet my past writings with glee and envy. Glee because I thought I was witty as hell. Envy because that boy who wrote poetry loved more, and doubted less. How unburdened he was. How pure. How young.

Then I put away the diary for another two months.

On Christmas morning I pick up the diary once more, I make my final entry of the year, and I write: We’re going to need a new diary.
Follow Mike on Instagram: mikemuthaka

Moments 2018
Out on a limb

Leave a Reply

Subscribe to our content

Florence Bett-Kinyatti


Columnist Saturday Nation Writer Craft It Author of best-selling ‘SHOULD I?’ and ‘HOW MUCH?’ ~ Guiding word: Overdrive Subscribe to our Newsletter👇🏾 eepurl.com/igmN8P
  • Dear God, 
It’s me again.

I don’t pray as often as I need to, You know that. I don’t kneel by my bed in child-like humility, as Muna does. I don’t whisper a prayer in the morning. Or at noon. Perhaps just in the evening. 

This going-to-church habit is a constant false start. So is reading the Word. 

I’m often guilty but I also know: You and I have a language only we can understand. 

I speak to You through this gift You bestowed upon my Kale shoulders, this gift to write in colour. It’s a gift that sometimes feels like a curse, a burden I have no choice but to pursue. 

Yet other times – most times, actually – it’s the very breath of my essence. Everyday I sit to write, when the words flow from my head and heart through my fingers to the page, I feel You next to me. 

You are here, Lord. Hovering. Lingering. Swooshing about in Your regal robes, like a character from Bridgerton.

Sometimes You get so close I can feel You breathing on my neck and I’m like, ‘Err, God, do You mind, personal space?’

And You chuckle uncomfortably. ‘He-he, of course. Of course.’

I’m here to tell You, Thanks!

I hosted my first in-person event last March, Lord, thank You to all the lovely ladies who granted me their time and full attention. 

I’ve carried them in my heart since and every day, my prayer is that You bring them closer to the life of abundance they each seek. To their own version of wealth. 

I always call them by their name: Becky. Purity. Lindsay. Wangui. Naomi. Shiqow. Mercy. Liz. Winnie. Polly. Nduta. Lynet. 

And Mike. 

Dear Lord, I’m prepping for my next in-person event in June, Inshallah. 

Walk with me as I get there. 

Love always,

  • Highlights from our first-ever in person event hosted by Craft It and @financialfitbit 
Thanks to all the lovely ladies — and gent, hehe — who honoured us with the privilege of their time and attention. And colourful energy. It’s been weeks since and it’s only now that I’m coming down from the high. 

Thank YOU!

🎥 @mikemuthaka 

#craftit #author #MakeYourMoneyMatter #personalfinance #money
  • I am a woman.

I’m strong. I’m brilliant. I’m like a comet shooting across the sky, I’m so bright you have to put on shades to see me.

I’m almost 40, I’m almost fully realising myself as a woman and the power of womanhood I possess.

I’m so powerful that if KPLC connected me to the national grid, I’d power up this country and we’d never have another blackout.

Ho! Ho! Ho!


To recognize and celebrate International Women’s Day today, I’d like to recognize and celebrate eight women.

I have eight things to give away to each of these women:
a) Two tickets to my upcoming event on March 18 with @financialfitbit Theme is ‘Make your money matter’
b) Three autographed copies of my book ‘Should I?’
c) Three autographed copies of my other book ‘How Much?’

To participate:
1. Like this post
2. Tag women who deserve a win of either event ticket or book (tag as many women as you like)
3. Tell us what you’d like her to win and why she deserves the win
4. Make sure your tagged women follow @_craftit and @financialfitbit 

Here are the rules for the giveaway:
— One woman, one win
— Winners will be contacted via DM
— Giveaway closes at the end of this week, Inshallah, on Sunday 12 March
— Only open to people living in Kenya

All the best!

(Swipe right to see the women I’m celebrating.)

#craftit #internationalwomensday
  • My 2022 word of the year was Wholesome. 

Wholesome meant engaging in moderation and in pursuits that didn’t leave me feeling yucky.

An example: there’re weekend nights I’d go out then have too much to drink. On the drive home, I’d tell GB to stop the car every half mile so I could throw up on the side of the road. Then I’d take three working days recovering. 


No more of that nonsense.

Now I have only two doubles of Singleton whiskey and chase it with water. I eat less food and I eat better. I take my supplements. I treat myself to an early bedtime and arise with my body clock, no alarm.

I spend a lot more time hanging with my kids, Muna and Njeeh. 

I buy fewer things. 

I play the piano. 

I created a disciplined routine for my work and take Thursdays off. 

You catch my drift…

Wholesome has become my lifestyle. 

(By the way, I was asked, ‘Where does this word-of-the-year come from, Bett?’ I don’t know about other people but for me, the words present themselves when I’m journaling. My spirit tells me what it needs; I must be still enough to listen and brave enough to obey.)

My word for 2023 is Overdrive.

My two books have unlocked new opportunities for me as a writer and creative. As an urban brand. I’d honestly not foreseen them. 

I know that if I adjust my sails to where the wind is blowing, these opportunities will translate to wealth.

Last Friday, I listed all the work I’m already doing and all the new opportunities – potential and realised – knocking at my door.

I asked myself, ‘What am I taking up here and what am I dropping?’

The response, ‘None – we go into overdrive and smartly pursue them all.’

#craftit #urbanguide
  • Years ago, my best friend said to me, ‘Bett, we’re almost 40 – forget makeup, let’s take care of our skin instead.’

I had to laugh because this was coming from Terry. Terry my Kisii pal, this fine gyal with skin the colour of honey, the only practising SDA in my circle. 

Terry had spent her 20s and early 30s sleek with Arimis. That’s right, the milking jelly with a lactating cow on its logo. 

Arimis addressed all her skin pickles back then. It was her problem fixer. Her Olivia Pope. It’s the one thing that always said, It’s handled.

Now here she was preaching to us about a consistent skincare regimen in the AM and PM.


It wasn’t until Terry shared her selfies on our girls WhatsApp group that I stopped laughing. It wasn’t until we stood next her – and took these selfies – that I reeally stopped laughing: Terry’s skin was youthful and toned, plump. Hydrated. Moistured but not shiny. 

It looked like it had been kissed by the Greek goddess of radiance. 

So we gathered around her feet and said, ‘Forgive us, master. We are ready now. Teach us everything you know.’

She did. 

Terry and I now spend plenty of time before work and before bed squeezing out little portions of expensive skincare products from expensive tubes, we layer them on our face in a calculated measure.

This serum here is for the circles under my eyes and the fine lines around my mouth.

Turns out I’ve been giving away too much of my face: I’ve been looking too hard, laughing too easily.

I’ll have to spend the next year into my 40s with my eyes half shut and laughing little. I'll have a resting bitch face.

Don’t blame me, blame the retinol.

And age.

#craftit #urbanguide #urbangirl
  • I’m Bett. I’m the author of your favourite books about money. I’m hosting an in-person event in March, Inshallah: This is my personal invite to you.

#craftit #moneymaker #moneyinkenya
  • I am hosting my first money event this March, Inhsallah. It’s the first of quarterly events I have planned for the year. 

(Give me a moment here so I pull myself together long enough to write this. I’m smiling very hard right now, ha-ha, I look like a donkey.)


The event will be in-person. On a Saturday morning, a loose three hours which, I am certain, you’d have burned on some other pursuit you couldn’t account for later. (I’d probably be oiling the hinges of a squeaky door or decluttering my sock drawer.)

My guest host for this edition is Lynet Kyalo. 

Lynet is a personal finance coach under her brand @financialfitbit She also hosts @getyourbagrightpodcast 

Buy your tickets from our Market.

Early bird tickets are discounted until the end of this month.

Limited slots available. 

#craftit #millenialmoney #moneyevent #moneymaker
  • Sometimes I sit down and read my own book. 

Odd, huh?

Reading my own stories is like an out-of-body experience. Or getting introduced to myself again. An outward journey inward.

It’s fascinating.

I also read because I need to improve my writing for my next project.

We call them the Elements of Craft: things like sentence structure and punctuation, word placement, story length etc, they all inform your reading experience.

This is what makes the book easy to read, and has you turning the pages.

Cop your autographed copy and #betteryourmoney 

#craftit #howmuch #millenialmoney #moneymaker

Seraphinite AcceleratorOptimized by Seraphinite Accelerator
Turns on site high speed to be attractive for people and search engines.