Jacky's Corner

  This weekend, I made doughnuts. That sentence sounds simple enough, but anyone who has ever stood in a kitchen with flour on their hands and uncertainty in their mind knows that recipes are rarely just recipes. They are little experiments. Tiny negotiations between confidence and doubt. I had flour, milk, baking powder, oil, a little vanilla essence, and some cinnamon. What I did not have was certainty. Would they rise? Would they be soft? Would they be raw in the middle? Would they end up as another kitchen lesson disguised as a snack? What happened instead surprised me.The secret was not a fancy ingredient. It was patience. For years, I thought kneading was simply a step to get through. This time, I learned that gentle kneading and resting are where the magic happens. The dough changed under my hands. It became smoother, softer, and more cooperative. Then came another lesson: resist the urge to keep adding flour. Sometimes softness requires trust. When the doughnuts finally hit...

A few days ago during a workout session, I found myself thinking less about my own performance and more about someone else’s struggle. There is a lady in our workout group who tries very hard. She shows up consistently, pushes herself, and genuinely wants to improve. But the pace of the workouts is often too intense for her current fitness level. Many times, she spends a large portion of the session resting and trying to recover while the rest of us continue. For a while, I observed quietly. I kept wondering whether there was a better way to structure the sessions so that everyone, regardless of fitness level, could participate more fully. Eventually, I decided to respectfully raise the issue with the coach. I suggested having different pace options during the workout: a normal pace, a moderate pace, and a slower pace. Not to reduce the challenge for stronger participants, but to create room for everyone to feel included. The coach explained that they usually slow things down t...

This one has a lovely reflective-social-observation flavor to it. I leaned into the quiet self-celebration without making it sound boastful 🌿 There is something strangely powerful about learning to say “no” without anger and “yes” without pressure. This weekend, I found myself thinking about how often people struggle to ask directly for what they want. Instead, they wrap requests in charm, excessive friendliness, jokes, or emotional performance, as though simple honesty is not enough on its own. It made me realize how uncomfortable those interactions can quietly become. A small situation brought this to my attention. Someone needed a favor urgently, but instead of simply asking for help directly, the request arrived hidden inside layers of charisma and social maneuvering. There were compliments, unnecessary touching, exaggerated warmth, and an expectation that the performance itself would somehow guarantee the answer. What surprised me most was not even the request itself, but m...

  There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes not from the work itself, but from the stories we quietly build around people. Recently, I found myself frustrated with a colleague after what I believed was poor communication around an important task. In my mind, the situation became larger and heavier with every passing day. Small assumptions started stacking themselves like files on an already crowded desk. I replayed conversations. I interpreted silence. I filled in missing information with emotion. The uncomfortable part about leadership, teamwork, and even relationships is that human beings rarely experience events exactly as they happen. We experience them through stress, fear, pressure, pride, exhaustion, and sometimes old memories we have not fully dealt with. A delayed response can start to feel like disrespect. A missing update can feel intentional. Before long, we are no longer reacting to facts. We are reacting to the story we created around them. What surpr...

  There is a quiet kind of celebration that comes when you finally stop abandoning yourself in the name of being “easygoing.” This weekend, I experienced it through something as small as a text message. A friend I had not spoken to properly since last October reached out to me. The conversation began warmly enough. “My dearest , how are you?  I replied politely, happy to hear from her. Then came the line that made me pause: “So do you organize those teas and I come be with you and chat?” At first glance, it looked harmless. Friendly, even. But something inside me stopped. Because suddenly I realized something important: if I agreed immediately, I already knew how the story would end. I would organize the tea. I would find the venue. I would coordinate schedules. I would carry the emotional labour of making the meeting happen. She would most likely enjoy herself, go home happy, and meanwhile I would quietly feel resentful and drained. And the difficult truth? It...

  Have you ever found yourself torn between celebrating someone you love with a grand gesture and wanting to honour their health goals? That was me this weekend, standing in a bakery, gazing at two cakes: one large, flashy, and expensive, the other simple but sweet. The debate in my head was real "It’s for Mum, she deserves it. It’s only 40,000 shillings more. Shouldn’t I go bigger?" But as I weighed my options, the part of me that truly wanted the best for her spoke up. Was this really about cake, or was it about showing love in a way that supports her journey toward better health? The answer was clear. The truth is, my mum is actively working on her health cutting back on sugar, staying active, and making real progress. I knew that bringing home a massive cake would be more of a temptation than a treat. In our small household, a big cake means days of leftovers, and those "just one more sliver" moments can add up fast. One celebration shouldn’t undo all the e...