Hello, it’s been a while since I posted something. My time has been spent traveling in Elgeyo Marakwet.
Category: Insight
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Chebara Dam in Chebiemit Elgeyo Marakwet A beehive in Kamok Village. Huts, with red mud walls ☺ -
I woke up ten minutes to six in the morning today. I knew I had to wake up, not because the lights were on but because it’s my sister’s birthday.
Growing up our birthdays constituted of great birthday cards and the chance to have Mom prepare you a special dish. We never had much and we never had parties. I remember that we stopped receiving Christmas gifts the year our Dad died. I was nine then.
However, Mom never stopped making us delicious meals on our birthdays.
So, there I was mumbling to my sister “Happy birthday” and wishing I was not so broke to get her something good, but all in good time.So, what has she taught me all these years:
1. Black is not the only color I can wear.
2. T-shirts and jeans are comfortable but a dress, some flats or a skirt can serve to show my curves once in a while and definitely my legs.
3. You can never go wrong with good perfume.
4. Read and work hard for what you want in life. Earn your sweat, don’t wait for a man to treat you right.
5. What does your Mother want? No, tell her am not yet home, I can talk to her later, not now, am beat!
6. You can make chapatis in twenty minutes! Watch and learn.
7. Keep writing.
8. If you are hired to do a job, do a damn good job because you’re replaceable.
9. Google is your friend.
10. Live a little.If there’s one thing she has showed me is that believing in myself goes a long way in getting things done. So, now am off to read and maybe get some writing done, am leaving for the road this weekend and I know number 8 of her life quotes will come in handy!
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What would you do if a King chose you as his new wife knowing you’d be dead the next day?
I found out today, not every beautiful maiden is like me, in fact one was brave enough to accept her fate with one hand- storytelling.
Yes, she told stories which gained her an audience and something greater than her life- the King’s love.
I was looking into classics when I came across One Thousand and One Nights and the subsequent retelling of the collection of stories hailing from Persia. I ignored it at first, but was prompted to look into it when I came across a phrase in a book I am currently in love with and reading, Andre Brink ‘s “Before I Forget,” (page 175):
Scheherazade does not simply postpone death by enthralling the King in her storytelling : she engages with death. After the first few nights it no longer matters if a story is left unfinished at the coming of dawn, it is through the intricacy of the story…and the processes of its telling that she ensnares the King.
The story goes that Shahryrar, the King, discovered that his wife had been unfaithful and he is hurt and angry that she would betray his love. So he resolved to marry a virgin everyday and then behead her the next day so she wouldn’t cheat on him or get the chance to. He did this to 1,000 women until he was introduced to Scheherazade.
Now, Scheherazade had studied and learned so many ways and legends and though she came from a good family, her father was against the marriage. Why give into a marriage that would result in death in 24 hours? Her Father was firm but Scheherazade gave in and she was with the King.
However that night before she joined him in bed, she asked that he grant her one last wish, to speak to her sister, Dunyazade, before she joins him.
He agreed.
So, when her sister was with her (word has it that this was planned) she asked Scheherazade to tell her a story. So, Scheherazade started telling a story and it was so riveting that the King was drawn to it, but as dawn approached she stopped. The King wanted her to continue but she insisted that they had to sleep and her sister was tired. They slept and that marked the end of her first night.
The King did not do much in the day but he looked forward to hearing how the story continued and so Scheherazade told stories every night stopping almost at dawn. This went on until 1000 days passed, and on the 10001 day she ran out of stories.King Shahryrar had fallen in love with Scheherazade so much that he could not live without her and as such he made her his Queen.
There have been many versions, translations and retelling of One Thousand and One Nights and it is not all about Scheherazade but it involves so many characters. I checked in with bookshops here in Kenya but I could not find it in their stock because I would love to read it. Scheherazade understood when to use cliffhangers and it’s an art, I am getting the jist of. I am impatient and when I’m left hanging, I choke the Writer in my head, but she used it to face her death and I find that not only smart but very stupid of her so I’m like, she’s better than me!
So, if you’re into that story you can visit this site of forgotten books: http://www.forgottenbooks.com and delve into some ancient stories and classics.
I’m still on the hunt for that book, I need a paperback or hardcover copy so I can breathe it all in. -
Happy New Leap Year.
It’s good to be able to sit down on the floor and just catch up with you or better yet update you on the writing life.
So, has anyone asked you about your new year’s resolutions? What would you like to achieve this year and how much are you willing to do to attain that feeling of success?
I’m not so sure about making any resolutions because as of last year I learned that I easily commit but struggle to follow through on my commitments. What astounds me the most is that it only applies to my personal and social life but not my writing. I achieved my writing goal and surpassed it by some record sales of my books, but beyond that everything else that I promised I would do, I didn’t.
It’s a new year, we have now 365 days left and right now all I can think of simply sitting here listening to Fool’s Gold by One Direction and hoping to get a second cup of coffee as I read Before I Forget by Andre Brink. I was emotionally wounded to learn that he’d passed on last year in February because I love his prose, it’s like listening to a confession without the tears but just nostalgia.
How’s your new year?
What are your writing goals? If you don’t mind sharing a link to your blog or site, please do as a comment, I would love to read your writing, or recipes (am cooking more so new recipes would be awesome). -
You stop and stare,
You wait.
You’ve been waiting for ten years to see it.
You look in my eyes, but it’s not there.
Every year you stand and stare at me.
You blink once, or twice but I never count because you are always standing steps away from me.
Move.
Take a step towards me.
Look into my heart, not at my eyes.
Do not see it but feel it.
Move.
Won’t you just take that leap, darn it, just move!You stop and stare.
We have been here.
We have thought of this space.
They call it love.
You call it time.
I call it cowardice.
I call you out on it, but still you stand your ground.You stop and stare,
I have waited ten years.
I turn back tonight,
I’ll stop hoping, staring back, pushing you to make a move.What hurts the most is that even as I walk away,
You still stare. -
If you are traveling by public transport in Kenya, the most considerate thing you should eat is maize. I am talking about either boiled maize (a.k.a Mtungo) or roasted maize (mahindi choma).
This moment of enlightenment came upon me as I was traveling today. I took the back seat on the driver’s side because I’m a Windows person. I love my space and there is nothing that screams personal space more than a person looking out the window in a six hour drive. You leave them to their demons and stare in awe at their silence.So, why should you eat maize while using public transport, I will give you two reasons:
1. It’s cheap. You get your maize for twenty shillings only.
2. It is the ultimate jaw workout.But, if you have eaten a whole maize cob then you are probably rolling your eyes like ‘been there done that,’ but have you ever been the other passenger? The one who has to sit beside noisemakers and hunger pang arousers ?
Case in point, chicken and chips! And let’s face it this happens a lot in Nairobi, and somehow anyone who travels with these buses and vans finds themselves queueing up to get a meager serving of fatty chips at a hundred shillings or more. It’s like let’s all eat chips and you roll up the windows and fill the vehicle with the aroma of not too delicious chips!
These are the ones that arouse those hunger pangs. Add some chicken and you’re done for. (P. S: It got worse for me when I boarded a bus from CBD only to see the seats plastered with Chicken Inn Combo Offer : two piecer chicken, large chips and a bottle of Coke, ei yawa!)The other hunger pang arouser for me is Vanilla Yoghurt. Listen, I do not have any issues with Yoghurt it’s just that the vanilla essence could make your tummy rumble for hours when you are hungry, and it’s happened to me not once but thrice.
So, can we go back to the maize? Yes, as I was saying, maize is the chilled out version of snacking. If the person seated next to you wants some you can always snap a bit of it and share. No one thinks of germs when eating maize.
Besides, it would also make you appreciate your thirst because after you are done eating that maize the kind of things your throat and mouth would be asking for aren’t much, just plain water. Unlike chips that has to go with salt, ketchup or chilli sauce and is so germ prone to people that I have seen them queue to get a toothpick for eating.And the last reason I have for why you should eat maize, is because it is not a noisemaker. It’s not like soda that will “fffff” when you twist the cap telling everyone that you are drinking it, or elicit a burp.
It’s not like crisps that will automatically make people turn to stare at you because you are seriously crunching on them.
Maize is chilled.It doesn’t cost you much and it definitely does not make you the center of attention (well, unless you are in a matatu going to Uplands or something ☺)
End of rant!
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I love reading books but not as much as buying them.
It is a known fact to my family that I judge supermarkets here in Kenya by how spacious their stationery and books aisle is. If it has a floor dedicated to books and stationery, it’s the best. I am yet to find that kind of supermarket though.
So, there was an offer on Books first where I buy most of my books,and this is my to-read list of 2016:
Before I Forget by Andre Brink
Ancestral Vices by Tom Sharpe
A way through the mountains by Elizabeth McGregor
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Tiger Hills by Sarita Mandanna
Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
The Bird Woman by Kerry Hardie
Vienna Blood by Frank Tallis
The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart
Foreign Fruit by Jojo Moyes
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell
And God created the Australian Pair by Benedicte Newland and Pascale Smets
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Walter looked at the bag he’d set on the table. It was black and empty. There were three t-shirts and a pair of jeans next to it. There was also a black notebook with cut outs of his favorite recipes sticking out of it. He looked at the wall.
He looked around the room before pushing the clothes inside the bag and zipping it up.
His leave was denied but he knew that going to work would not hurt him. Being home and staring at the blank walls hurt his conscience more. When he was handed his salary and bonus, his mind had gone back to his own pastry shop but it took one call from his mother to render him broke. The Bishop was going to visit her and she had to prepare him fish. Did he know that the best size of fish she wanted cost around a thousand shillings? The Bishop was coming with two Deacons, three Lay Readers and some Church members. It would be a shame if they ate ugali and sukumawiki at her house. She would never show her face at the church after that.
He sent her all the money he’d earned for the month of November.
“Listen, my son, you always embarass me with your kindness, are you coming home this year?”
“I wanted to Mama, but I am working over the holidays. How is everyone doing back home?”
“Everyone is just as they are. Mama Nancy’s cow gave birth to two calves and she cannot stop talking about it. Your Uncle broke his leg again running away from some men he’d stolen from, that man will die running I tell you. Hey, your sister, says she needs some money for tuition.”
“How much does she need?”
“Three thousand two hundred and seventy.”
“Okay, you can use some of the money I have sent you to pay for it.”
“Ai! This money will not be enough to take us through Christmas and if I start spending it on everything, what will my visitors eat? Wallie! You know how I like to treat my visitors.”
“Yes Mama. I will see what I can do and thank you Mama for taking good care of us. God bless you.”
“Wallie, are you okay?”
“I am Mama, why do you ask?”
“You sound different my boy and I know you. Something is bothering you, listen do not worry about your sister’s fees we can always work something out, you work hard and it is more than enough. Listen, I want you to come home soon, we have to sit down as a family my son. Please, tell me you will come.”
“I will come home for the New Year, how does that sound?”
“That’s the boy I gave birth to, Wallie! God bless you my son and do not forget to pray, and give thanks to Him.”
“Goodbye Mama.”
He sat back and checked the time by his phone. It was almost noon when he walked out of his bedsitter and made his way to the Restaurant for the afternoon shift.
Each step he took felt lighter, like he was walking away from something that he couldn’t see. He only knew one thing for sure, this time he was not walking away from his dream, but he was rather running towards it.
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Write!
It could be true or not, but when you have nothing to write about, just go ahead and write and chances are something will come to mind. You could stare at your computer from the time that Nigerian movie started till it ended and then the Part II started and ended…and people had supper, before sitting down to write just like me.
You could seriously do that and no one would laugh at you, in fact, I’d probably endorse that with a retweet or a like or reblog.
Today was my writing day. I was to sit before this computer and type like NanoWrimo is a breeze! I started out great. I switched on the computer and then turned on the radio and opened my documents, clicked on my story, and nothing happened. I sat before this computer and thought, “how hard could it really be if you focused?”
Well, that Nigerian movie started at 11:30am and now it’s 8:36pm. I only have this random stream of words that I am spewing right now. It feels pretty good, but who am I kidding? Right?
If you said “right” back there, you are probably not my friend, but it depends did you say “riight” or “Right!” like a policeman? If it’s the latter we are not friends, and you can stop reading this and probably go do something like eat an avocado or stuff!
Okay, let me just breathe for a second.
That was way out of line, you should not take it out on an avocado, I love that fruit. So, whatever you do take it out on anything but avocados and strawberry yogurt. You can definitely take it out on anything vanilla! I’d not stop you.
I am learning something here about my rambling. It is more like seeing myself for the first time and I guess that it does hold some water,
When you have nothing to write, don’t beat yourself up,start writing or just jotting down words and somewhere in that string of words you’ll find the story that needs to be told.
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We sit facing each other’s demons.
My hands lift the mug to my mouth and you sit and stare at me. Your lips have been moving and my ears have not taken in the sound coming from them, but you’d never know.
You never know.
You lift your mug. It’s the blue mug I got you for your birthday last year. You hated it, but you never went a day without drinking from it, like kissing your enemy’s lips every morning.
You rise and the thread of darkness follows you around the table slowly forming a thin line as you walk away. We are always here. Your demons arouse mine and they stare down each other. Your demons stir mine up but none ever attacks…I heard it was called self-preservation, but baby one of these days, one of these days, we’ll burn down this house, and it’s our love that’d be killed.
nilichoandika 