nilichoandika

Thoughts at Three

August 2nd, 2016

It is 3 A.M.

The sky is charcoal, glistening like the speacks of yellow and orange you see when you light the jiko. I heard that epic things happened at 4 A.M. Constitutions were written, babies made, drunkards sobered up,books were written, calls made and music composed.

I heard.

Oh, how I heard how evil prowls at 3 A.M by windows waiting to pounce on wicked children who refused to obey their parents. Sharon,the one from house number sixty three,not that house,the one with a dog that looks like a goat. Yes, that one! The blue house with no steel door. Aha! Now you get it, kwa akina mdomo pere! Yes, she comes home at 3 A.M and sleeps until 6 P.M then leaves at 8 P.M. She never completed her studies, but she returns when I’ve run out of sleep.

She knocks on her mother’s door just as I step out of my bed and set my eyes on the sky. Why I look at the sky first is a mystery I would not be interested in solving.

Now that I’m here, isn’t it odd how conversations after 2 A.M go?

“Hey, did I wake you up?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say hi, it’s been a minute.” (Pause )

Side note: It’s past 2 A.M and you called just to say hi? And it’s been a minute? It’s only fifteen seconds, the mobile provider can even confirm that and what’s with did I wake you? Dude! Who is awake past 2A.M? Even the guy we pay to stay awake is snoring at the security office! I just wanted to say hi! Eish!

“Are you there? You kinda went quiet for a minute.” ( Pause, no actually continue writing and just say you dozed off the next morning!)

The thing with waking up at three is that the most refreshing ideas come out of nowhere. They are the best company you’ll ever have and trust me, if you don’t jot them down, you’ll forget them and worse off if you do, you’ll wonder which fool took them down come morning.

So be smart,like me, read some poems by Nikita Gill
7/40

August 1st, 2016

The text from Jeremy came when I had just boarded the matatu heading home. I looked around the matatu and stepped out careful not to meet the tout’s eye. I was in no mood to explain my actions to him.

I dialled Jeremy’s number immediately my feet hit the pavement. He answered after a prolonged mix of skiza tunes with that lady telling me to dial one to copy the tune.

“You forgot!”he said.

“Yes, I did but I am on my way now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Take your time I will wait.”

“Thanks. See you then.”
Waves

July 30th, 2016

We are like waves; we build up, go deep into the sea, and hit the shore.

We are so powerful that in between the building up and hitting the shore,

We lose ourselves.

We are like waves, we are never the same when we calm down.
7/40

July 29th, 2016

There were two things I knew to be true about the organization I worked for; employees were hired and they were fired. What you did between the “congratulations, you’re hired,” and “you’re fired!”is all that mattered. If you were wise you ensured that forty five percent of your monthly salary went to an emergency account. Everyone showed up to work by nine o’clock in the morning and left by six o’clock in the evening.

The organization occupied two floors. One floor had forty five employees. The one above it had fifteen. The forty five knew everything that happened in both floors thanks to an active switchboard and two receptionists who valued office drama over being overworked. They are the ones who started drumming up a possibility of Martin and I dating. It was no surprise when Evans called me to ask what the thing with Martin was all about. I hang up and wrote an email. I sent it to all the departments ensuring that the boss was the first to receive it.

I stared at the desk phone until 5pm.

The desks were vacant as I made my way out of my office to the reception. The people whom I met along the way did not make use of their mouths like I’d hoped. I waved at some, smiled at two and ignored the rest.

I walked to the elevator. I pressed the button and waited. We were on the seventh floor. When it came to a halt on our floor and the doors opened I came face to face with him. Martin. It was twelve minutes or so past five. I had to get home by seven and do laundry. After a few thoughts I stepped in and clutched my bag close to my ribs.

“Listen, I wanted to come talk to you about everything. I am sorry,” he started.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. Look, can we put this behind us?”

“Can you put that into writing and copy the HR?”

“Um, is that necessary? I mean, if you think that would help then it’s okay.”

“Do that then.”

“What is your problem? I’m being nice about this and you dish out orders?”

“Martin, I asked you to write a formal letter of apology because from where things stand what you did was neither professional nor ethical. I do not know how much of it is an order, but I am good at what I do and I work hard. You do not get to take credit for my work, and if you think that talking to me in an elevator is an apology then you are neither remorseful nor considerate.”

“Look!”

“Have a good evening Martin. In your apology be sure to mention that you tore two pages off the budget prepared by finance that was on my desk.”

“Wait! Now you’re accusing me of theft?”

He was about to take a step towards me when the elevator came to a stop. I stepped out as soon as it stopped my feet leading me as far away from him as I could get.
Books to read this August

July 28th, 2016
1. Dark Prince by Christine Feehan
2. The Sorrows of an American by Siri Hustvedt (I loved her other book, “What I loved,” and it was because of that warm nostalgic feeling that I was happy to receive this book.)
3. The Harmony Silk Factory by Tash Aw
4. The Laments by George Hagen (I have never heard of Mr. Hagen or read his books and this is a first experience that I hope would make my August reading experience memorable.)
5. Arena of Assassins by Colin De Silva.
Which books are you looking forward to reading this August?
6/40

July 28th, 2016

When I got back to the office I called Francis to get the update on our father’s health condition that he had promised. He insisted there was nothing to report because Father was doing great and the doctor felt he could be discharged.

“Francis, is the doctor sure or is he basing the decision to discharge Dad on a feeling?”

“What did you hear me say Major?”

“He has to be sure because we cannot discharge Dad and then bring him back to the hospital again!”

“He has a home Major, hospitals are meant to be visited not dwelled in, what is wrong with you? Dad is fine and he needs to wake up and move a bit, check on his cattle and feed his hens or something, did you see hens in this hospital?”

“Stop joking Francis,please tell me that he is really okay.”

“He’s fine Major. He’s ready to go home.”

“Fine. I will talk to Raphael. He will come and pick him up and take him home and you can go back to your Theology classes.”

“Are you okay Major? You sound a little tired, is something wrong?”

“I am just exhausted from work. I will be fine and thank you Wuod Meja for taking care of Dad. I owe you a lot.”

“We owe him Major. You know how Dad is, saying things and shaking his head like no one listens to him.”

“Yes, he’s always saying that we do not listen, but he’s done us proud. I will call in the evening to talk to him about his discharge. Have a good one Francis.”

“You are the only one who calls me Francis! Everyone calls me Jayalo but not you Major. Have a good one too.”

I looked at the time after he’d hang up. It was almost two o’clock. My brother might see himself as a priest but he would always be Francis to me. The boy who always insisted that I cool his tea or porridge before serving it to him. The boy who had typhoid when he was ten and made my Father weep. He promised God he would go to church everyday if he was healed. The boy who always looked up to me even when I brought home a report card reading C+ in Mathematics. Father would yell, “how can you not know Mathematics and your Uncle is an Accountant?”

The boy who acted as a messenger to John and I. Each letter was delivered with the seal intact and promises of love and better tidings. The same Francis who broke John’s nose when he saw him with that girl from house number ten. Matilda, Martha, whatever!

My Francis, a priest?
6/40

July 27th, 2016

“What are you thinking about Marjorie? You have just closed your mouth on me right here. We had better finish up and head back to the office. I have some interviews to conduct at 2pm.”

“Nicole, if you talk this much around me, and we are not best of friends, I wonder, just how much do you spew around your family?”

“Family is crazy. You are born into this group of crazies and you deal with it, but with friends, ni kama buffet, you can choose what to add to your plate. So, tell me ,what are you thinking about?”

“It’s just that Martin is seated at that corner, next to the window looking at me.”

“Where?”

“Stop doing that! You’ll break your neck! And, wait, next to the blue pillar with those flowers on your right, act like you are picking something from the floor…Nicole!”

“What? I do not have to check him out, we are not scouting for a future husband. We don’t have to steal glances. I want him to see us talking about him. Kwanza let me wave!”

Martin meets her eyes. Nicole looks at me, smiles and turns to Martin her right hand going up, and she waves. I shake my head. My Father’s daughter.

I push my plate aside. Push the chair back, a screeching sound startles Nicole. I’m up and walking out, but I do not miss it. Martin waves back at Nicole.

His eyes are on me.

My Dad would know what to do. He would know what to say to make things better. His only fear was that he let me carry the world at a young age and I have never shrugged since then. I had expectations. The issue with Martin unsettled me because I was the only one who seemed to be aware that it was a game to him. He would apologize and do it again. He loved being punished but what did that say about him as a person? Why did his actions unsettle me? What was it about this project that made me realize how much of a jerk my colleague was? This was the sixth day after the boss assigned me that project. It was a charity event, why would Martin want it so much that he would put me down?

Nicole did not come after me. I wished she did but I would never admit it to her.
5/40

July 27th, 2016

“What do you mean by that Nicole?”

“What do you think? Martin has always been the bump in your highway. You cannot drive at a hundred kilometers when the bumps appear from nowhere. Okay, if you drove you would get my logic.”

“So, now I am flawed? What is wrong with you woman? Why do you support him? Is there something I am missing because you are always coming to his defense?”

“I just wish there was more about Telemundo in our office, that place iko na drama,wah! Kwanza did you hear about what happened upstairs?”

“Where? I am upstairs too, can you be more specific?”

“Marjorie, you are the one who knows how to relate to the public, now why should I enlighten you about people in our so called office, and listen, before you call me a gossip,ati oh, drama queen ati mama muchene, just listen because it might help you.”

“Are you really going to finish that soda?”

“Kwani what do you take me for? Si ikibaki nabeba nikienda nayo home! Wacha kumezea soda yangu mate, plans zako zinyamazie!”

“So, what were you saying about my public relations skills?”

“Listen, I will do my research and tell you all about it. Do not stomp on Martin’s foot,maisha ni hard. Maybe he just has complex issues. Between you and I, tunajua kichwa yako ni ngumu kama ya mbuzi, pardon my French!”

“Why are we even friends?”

“Hata mimi sijui, but you are one crazy woman. You are stubborn. Pass me that pepper, sauce yangu imedry. Wacha kuniangalia hivyo madam PR!”

Once the bowl of pepper was in her hand, she dipped her index finger in and made a clean sweep of the paste. Her words clouded my mind. What if there was more to my situation with Martin? How many complaints would I file to get him to stop? What would I gain? What would he lose and why did it matter? I looked around the room. Eyes. Hands. Tables. Voices. Thoughts. Needs. Mouths.

At the far end looking right at me was Martin.
5/40

July 26th, 2016

Nicole’s idea of lunch was a full plate of chips, 1/2 deep fried chicken, and a litre of Coke.

I had a serving of bhajia and bottle of water. She looked at my tray and scrunched up her nose. She reached out for a piece of bhajia and dunked it in the pepper I had. I pushed the pepper towards her. She dipped her index finger in it and licked it like mama Josephine’s brown cat. “You can have the pilipili if you want.”

“Ai, no, I will use my tomato sauce and chilli, but that bhajia pilipili is fine! You know like the hot young kids who cannot even spell Curriculum Vitae! And aki you won’t believe me when I tell you the things we go through trying to recruit people for these people who drive Range Rovers and write cheques like someone sending an sms!”

“What do you go through? Is it as worse as PR? Where I have to find out which buttons to push to seal corporate deals and the like, and worse off write statements or sweet talk journalists not to print or publish some nasty pictures that could lead to divorce or worse off death of the big guys?”

“But at least you can bribe people! You get rid of the problem. We have to prevent the problem from getting into the company. It’s like trying to prevent a virus from shutting down your computer, now if those IT guys can take years to do it, imagine a mere girl like me from Ukambani, with skinny legs and a great skin trying to say, ‘dear’ instead of ‘ndear,’it is a crime I tell you! People should not suffer like this.”

“Ghai, pole! You have to work though, no one forced you to study human resources.”

“Ouch! If I wanted an exorcism I would have called my Mother, now nipe hiyo pilipili before you take away my appetite. So, how are you with Martin?”

“I have not spoken to him and I don’t want to.”

“Aki, it’s that bad?”

“It is what it is. Tell me what should I do, from the HR angle.”

“You can file a complaint so we can give him a warning, or you can ask for a refresher training course on his job description, but let’s be honest Marjorie, what if there is more to this than meets the eye?”
4/40

July 26th, 2016

I opened a few online store pages as soon as Nicole left my office. I would give a jig to wear a red dress to work. My colors were more of the neutral range: grey,black,brown and white. I switched things up with some bright colors once in a while but the only red thing I owned was a belt. I couldn’t buy a red hand bag, not even if it was leather and I know my leather.

After much scrolling and clicking, I closed all the tabs and went back to drinking my tea. The extra cash I had in my account would go to Dad’s treatment. His talk about grandchildren was a thrill to my brothers. Francis was one to talk given that he was off to saint hood. The one time I brought up that girl with breasts like coconuts he gave me the silent treatment for one month. The next time I mentioned the one with an orange phone with that ringtone that sounded like the clash of sufurias, he unleashed a three month cold war. That boy had a good memory. His father’s memory. He had a heart. His mother’s heart. I couldn’t tell which one I loathed. Dad, Raphael and I know that he’s never going to wear that cloth. We also know that he would be better off teaching Theology as opposed to living and practicing it. See, Francis cannot fail to acknowledge curves. His head turns at the sight of legs, bums, light skins and long weaves. He appreciates beauty.

Raphael believes he can do it. Father just shakes his head. Raphael thinks he would make a great priest. Father just shakes his head. Raphael opens his mouth to say one more thing and Father goes, “When are you going to get married to that young woman who cleans your clothes, prepares your food and sleeps on your bed?”

Raphael suddenly has a phone call to answer.

With my last sip, I looked out the window at the parking lot, there were four slots remaining. It was almost noon and I had not made any advancement on the project I was assigned. I sat by the window, counting the black cars and then the white and the grey/silver. I lived for days like this when I would only look forward to lunch and 5pm. Some days I looked out my window and there were more open parking spaces because the bosses were not in.