nilichoandika

Diary of a Literary Commitment-Phobe

June 10th, 2015

Litmus 2015

It’s a little bit like falling in love, writing. Previously I’ve been pretty promiscuous; I love the instant gratification of short stories and think of your own metaphor for Flash Fiction. There’s that initial wow; that frenzied excitement, the high of the idea.

But now I want a proper relationship, a novel, something long-term. This requires investment and commitment, so I’ve decided on 1000 words a day. Depending on my mood, this has been beautifully flowy or an angry argument.

Then earlier in the week I came to the ‘I’m not sure if this is working’ stage. ‘Do I even like you?’ I asked my draft. I was enjoying the parts set in the present with a first-person voice, they’re immediate and easy to connect with but the third-person 90s sections felt like a soap opera; too mundane, too real.

Last night I decided to end it; it was over…

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Here’s to a cloudy day well spent!

June 8th, 2015

Clouds are like people.

Sometimes they travel in groups, or roam the sky alone.

Sometimes they look so adorable you’d want to eat them, and sometimes they turn so dark you can’t help but seek shelter from them.

But, clouds are not people, because no matter where they are and what shape they take they never stoop down low.
They always stay up in the sky!
Why I read the stuff I read.

June 2nd, 2015

I read books.

Of late I have started taking a keen interest in magazines.

But, have you ever been so into a book and then someone interrupts you to say something mean or inconsiderate?

There’s no such thing as enough books, ask any one who loves reading books, and they’ll probably look at you as though hitting you in the head with a book would sober you up.
After a long week climbing rocks and wading through mud, I treated myself to four books. It is a process that I started while on campus because I love reading and it’s another way of learning skills.

The Art of Undressing by Stephanie Lehmann
Humble Pie by Gordon Ramsay
Gem Squash Tokoloshe by Rachel Zadok
An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England by Brock Clarke

If I could read all day, I probably would.
This has led me to think more about reviews and how to write them better. Are you on Goodreads ?
It’s like a library/bookshop/bookclub and you can meet your next favorite book there just from the reviews and groups. I have been a member for sometime now and I decided to work towards 180 books this year.
But what pisses me off is the caption below my tally that says ” you are 18 books behind schedule.”
Ignoring it does not help, and my conscience is aware of my decision to set a challenge. Challenges are neither friendly nor nice and so expecting this from books is pretty stupid of me, but I can’t help it.

And I digress…

However, a colleague at work almost wore me down today when he said, “you always read, Dora, and what good does it do you? If I were you I don’t think I would read that much, don’t you get tired?”

I was about to give him a piece of my mind when our meeting resumed, but at that moment all I could think of was:
1. You are not me
2. I do get tired, but that’s why there are bookmarks. You slip one in and continue from that page later on.
3. There are benefits to reading; improved vocabulary, empathy,an imagination, proper articulation and while we are on it, characters you read about last longer based on the impact they had on you.

Case in point: Chinua Achebe died but Okonkwo still lives in print and e-format.
The book lives on long after Darcy marries Elizabeth, Romeo and Juliet die, Hamlet gets his vengeance, Voldermort is defeated, Harry Potter marries Ginny (JK why?) and more so after Katniss let’s down her bow!

I thought a while about this, but if we put aside the sentiments, and add some history, I would attribute my love for books to my mom.
She has been a teacher of English Literature for over thirty years.
She was the one who had books for us to read, and would encourage our Dad to let us read the newspaper with him, even though we could barely pronounce Wednesday and Conference.

A word a day.
A chapter in the Bible and a song is how she did it.

I can still sing some Luo rhymes, and tell a story or two that were my favorite, but she would always tell us that “Oral literature will never die, you might forget the words but never the beat for as long as you listen.”

So, how about being paid to read books all day?

I haven’t thought that far, but right now I am reading Shadows on the Hudson by Isaac Bashevis Singer.
I’m Done (Part 2)

May 28th, 2015

You my dear are like second hand smoke.
You choke me yet I do not smoke you.

And after visiting Aphrodite, you come to me smiling and full of surprises. I get roses, coffee dates, books, stationery and you even surprise me by asking me to dance with you, but when you pull me close and ask me to lay my head on your chest, I inhale her.
I inhale your guilt and anxiety through your beating heart.
And like the jealous and wounded woman that I am, I ask you, “how was your weekend?”

You step back and look into my eyes and say, “it was boring, I missed you so much.”
But, I smile and step out of your embrace to breathe in some air that would dispel the stench that’s your guilt.
You are God’s most wonderful piece of work.
A picture with you is like being in a glossy magazine with you as the model and me as a prop.

You want to stay in.
I have to leave for work, but what I really want to do is go home and write. Love, do you know that I write? Yes, you buy me stationery and know the best books to get me, but do you really know that I write? And it’s just not, abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz but complete sentences that form a story?

So, I leave.
But I know thanks to your IG that you must have hired a car for a day, went to a park, had a blast and took endless selfies with your cookie jar. They are very beautiful women. The one in a green bra does know how to pout. I also liked the one in red braids, her cheeks look kissable, but I bet you knew that already.

And when I get home, my friend asks me, “so, when will you ever date?”
I smile and say “never,” because I have just had a two month class on the fine art of lying and being in numerous relationships from you.
She looks at me and shakes her head in disbelief.
And, the best part of all this is that you had asked me to give you a chance, to weigh things out and decide if I want you.

I want you.

It’s no lie that you are a handsome devil, but I want you out of my life.
And what amazes me is that you still had hope, that I would stay, yet, you never did anything to make me stay.

You bought me things I love, while you slept around with other women.
For my attention you disrespected me.
You appreciated my cooking and cherished how I got along with your family, while you did everything to threaten their trust by not being honest with them about me.
You want to have fun while I do the growing up for you.

We cannot switch roles.

Go have fun.
Go make merry.

Thank you for a wonderful insight on lying and lack of focus, and until then, steer clear of me.
I’m Done!

May 26th, 2015

I’ll be your demon, guarding your doors so that no evil shall pass. I will stop all the girls from staring, with their teeth every time you walk into a room- and grip your hand so they know you seek no evil. But, I will be the angel hoping and praying that you cease to create room for evil by telling the truth.

(Photo Credits: Larisa Koshkina )

Such that when your phone lights up, you do not have to leave the room or talk in the bathroom or pretend that your boss needs you. Your boss does not send you messages via Whatsapp.

I will sit and smile and hope that when I ask, “are we good?” you will say, “I don’t know,” and it will be the truth. I cannot deny lust when it is before me. She smiles and you start day dreaming. She smells like roses and kisses you like Aphrodite. She is your night while I am your day, and you know…a man needs peace of mind. Sometimes, you have things that are so great in your life and you cannot figure out which one to stick with. When there are so many women to choose from, why not see what will become of it all, why not have fun?

So, I am the “wifey,” the one who is respectful and is loved by your parents and siblings. I am the one who knows how to cook your favorite serving of fried beef and ugali with sauteed sukuma wiki, and will add your can of Tusker just to top it off!

I am the one who knows what gift to get your friends and family and will write something sweet, you know just cause you need them to know you care.

I am the one who will ask you questions that your conscience has been drumming up on you so much so that it has gone mute, like, “what are your career plans?” and “are you looking to invest in that?” and “how was your day?”

I am the one who knows that there is more to radio than listening to Classic and Kiss 100, and will bore you to death by listening to BBC.

But, she is oxygen itself!

She knows what to say and when to say it! She knows when to order drinks and help pull out your wallet to pay the bill, and the taxi back to her place. She knows how handsome and loving you are, because she does not need to tell you this when you are sober, I mean, why be so serious? You only live once, right? And you nod, “yeah,” and sink in her…and at the back of your mind you say, “only for tonight.”

What you do not know is that to women, the phrase, “the world is a small village,” is not news! We knew it long before we knew that we are women.

One word, whispered to two ears, finds itself an audience of ten thousand, and whatever is gospel truth to four ears is the verdict!

You…

(part two comes this Friday.)
Why I decided to follow 4 of Robin Sharma’s New Rules

May 24th, 2015

Have you ever felt like you have had enough?
You have been postponing a project for years and then suddenly you find yourself seated on your bed at 2am wondering why you can’t hear any sounds and your mind keeps on going about your pending project?
It happened to me, thrice!

The only time I had such an experience was while listening to Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi” song and I had to find ways of getting it out of my head, which included reading an endless list of plays by Shakespeare!

So, I decided to give this project a shot and I picked three out of twenty of Robin Sharma’s New Rules of work:
1. If you are not up early, you are sleeping too late.
2. Commit to becoming the undisputed heavyweight champion of your craft.
3. Get fit so you can serve more people.
4. Don’t wait to get inspired to start your dream, start by our dream to grow inspired.

I stopped watching Indian Soap Operas and documentaries that air at night, and this has made it easy for me to get to bed by 9pm.I have woken up by 6am twice, but stayed in long after that so, I have to work on that.

I started doing squats and planks to keep fit, plus I walk for hours while out in the field, so what remains to be done is looking into what I consume and that means cutting down on coffee, cake, and chips, which is a battle I am dreading.

As for becoming the undisputed heavyweight champion of my craft, well, how about that? I still don’t have a clue as to how to go about it, and that means I need to reflect on exactly what I consider as being the undisputed heavyweight champion of my craft. Is it more sales, giving talks, being interviewed a lot, or more written and published works, or is it just a feeling?
I will think it through and see where it leads.
Storm

May 20th, 2015

“My love is like a storm,” he said.
“I mean, I shouldn’t be here talking to you, but some things are beyond me, like how she knows everywhere I am and everything am doing.”
Twende

May 16th, 2015

I know a lot of things about money, people and most of all the desire to get home.

I also know something about her. She always boards the bus at 7am to town. She would settle for a seat next to any window as long as it is on the driver’s side.

Every time I see her, she is always calm, like she knows that she will definitely get to her destination.

She is like the sun.

She lifts up my spirits at 7am and sends them packing at 5pm.

I have never talked to her but I have touched her soft fingers.

I also know she smells like clean soft white sheets because I get a whiff of her perfume when she passes by me as she alights.

Sometimes, I see her from afar, but that’s just it…she is a hardworking and independent woman while if you haven’t guessed it by now, I am a tout.

PS:

The full story will be out soon.
Sirareline Shuttle: The ride back home

May 15th, 2015

Have you ever boarded a matatu with the windows closed and a passenger eating groundnuts the whole trip?

Where your knees buckle and you fidget because the engine is heating up and the man seated next to you is listening to a song on his, Bird, phone and chewing gum like it’s sugarcane?

Have you?

Well, do not worry, maybe you can imagine that you were with me at that time, feeling so uncomfortable but thinking, ” I can’t wait to get home and blog about this!”

I was in Nyakach, which is one of the six sub-counties in Kisumu, visiting a school. Once my work was done and report had been compiled, I stood by the road for fifteen minutes before flagging down a matatu, which turned out to be a Sirareline Shuttle.
I paid, one hundred and fifty shillings as fare (that’s roughly $1.55 ) and sat comfortably for ten minutes before the driver stopped to pick another passenger who squeezed beside me. So, now we were four people in a seat designated for three.
Three minute later, ( I know this because I was listening to Carly Rae Jepsen’s ‘Call me Maybe’) and the driver stops to pick another passenger. The tout gives up his seat and he squeezes in with us such that we are five people now. A woman with a basket at the far end on the driver’s side, a man with a phone on speaker mode, me, a shepherd, and the tout.
We take turns leaning in so that we do not rub shoulders.
Sitting in between two men whose shoulders are wide is a nightmare, I was constantly fighting the urge to smoothen their shoulder bones.

When we get to Ahero, the driver speeds past the council toll booths with the intention of not paying the council parking service fee and as such he cannot drop off passengers or pick up any in the town’s bus stop, so what does he do?
He speeds past two bumps before stopping to let passengers alight.
The man and the shepherd get off, and I am left with the woman and her basket. I look her way and notice she has been nibbling away at groundnuts and hence the scent that filled the matatu.
She keeps popping groundnuts into her mouth and I wonder why she is not thirsty or tired of eating them. I have never been a nuts person ( nuts, as in groundnuts, why am I defending myself?) and seeing her eat nuts like that makes me wonder how it would be for me.

So, the driver misses the next six bumps as we enter Kisumu and I cannot help but thank God for arriving home safe.
I look back at the other passengers but none of them has the look of relief, it’s as though they are used to such driving and their main concern is to do what they have to do and get back home.

If I ever find myself aboard a Sirareline Shuttle again, I will do my best to secure a seat next to the window, just so I can let some fresh air in.
Making my way to Sauset.

May 12th, 2015

Today was a good day.
I had the best workout, so much so, that I have become aware of muscles that I didn’t know exist somewhere between my thighs and ankles.

I alighted at Koru hoping to visit Sauset.
It costs one hundred shillings on a motorbike to get to the school from Koru, but today when I mentioned the name “Sauset” the men shouted, ‘hapana!’

It had rained heavily and they could not get there.
So, one offered to take me halfway and show me a shortcut to the school.
The route involved walking through a sugarcane plantation, a couple of homes, jumping through puddles of water, walking straight through a maize farm and finally arriving at the school!

On my way back, I was accompanied by Josephine a kindergarten teacher who had no trouble breathing as she leaped over puddles of water and climbing steep hills. But, a few meters behind us was a young girl, who walks for an hour to get to school because it is the only public school around where the fees are affordable to her grandmother.
Josephine told me that there are other pupils who live beyond the hills around the school and they are never late.
We walked on until we came to her home and she bid me goodbye.
I walked with the girl and left her at the nearest turn as I made my way to Koru.

And just when I thought, I had had enough of a workout, a tout in an approaching matatu shouted back at a friend telling him that he is compact as a matchbox!
I thought about this on my trip back home pausing to smile or giggle as I looked out the window pretending that there was no pain in my feet!