"The family is like a forest, if you are outside it is dense, if you are inside you see that each tree has its own position."
-
I wrote a short story about life in Nairobi for a young advocate who finds himself in Parliament. Allan is at his prime when he is invited to the State House to meet with an honorable member. They need him to find a solution to their problem, before he knows it, he is tethered with a rope around his neck like a goat. Question is, who is watching and why?
You can download a free copy: here
-
It’s tough being the Writer in the family.
People look to you when they cannot express themselves. My cousin asked me to write a poem for his girlfriend and I was tempted to copy and paste some lyrics from Lil Wayne.
It is not as tough as being the Counselor among friends and I reckon from Easter I will start collecting session fees for the advice I give. However, in celebration of all the mothers out there, I thought of these four lines when it comes to my mom.
I have a mother,
True as no other.
I love my mother,
Her name is Bertha.
-
I know.
He cares.
He may love you.
Really, he probably does.
He probably thinks about you all the time.
He may love you.
It does not matter, or let’s assume that it does,
What is he doing about it?
Nothing.
Wow, he may love you, he is just busy.
What matters is that is he doing nothing and you most certainly should not do a thing.
He may love you.
Really, he probably does.
He does not go out of his way to make it obvious that he does,
So, tell me, what are you doing about it?
He may love you.
He probably thinks about you all the time.
Really, he probably does- and that means…nothing.
-
It’s often said that sometimes when you fall, you fall hard. There are some books that make you fall hard, and the best part is that you have no regrets as a reader. When you get that book that takes you on a journey like no other, you find yourself on a high.
The first time I saw ‘Vienna Blood’ by Frank Tallis on the shelves, I thought it had the whole Sherlock vibe to it and even as I reached out to get it, I felt like it would take me to the 1900s. It took me to 1902.Summary: A serial killer embarks upon a bizarre campaign of murder in the winter of 1902 in Vienna. Bodies are mutilated, arcane symbols are found in crime scenes and the victims are as random as they come. Detective Inspector Rheinhardt summons a young disciple of Freud, his friend, Dr. Max Liebermann to assist him with the case.
The book is 476 pages of clues and mysteries.
Mr. Tallis definitely did his research on Sigmund Freud because everything about the Professor is spot on, from his smoking and his take on Dream Interpretation.
Having a background in psychology, reading this book was like dying a sweet death and ,meeting Freud on a regular basis. It was heaven!
Favorite passage: Oskar, it has been an extraordinary night and if am unable to find a coffeehouse in the next half hour, I swear I shall expire.– Liebermann
Favorite scene: Has to be when Professor Freud makes an appearance, I reckon I’ve shared a screenshot up there.
Favorite character: Hausmann who happens to be the assistant detective who cannot hold a tune! I loved how hard he tried to keep up and present himself as a great partner in this book, made him more relatable.
This book is evenly paced and if there is one thing I learned from this story is how great research can build a story. Delving deeper into history is not easy, and writing about it is even harder because if you miss a fact or you misrepresent a fact it could ruin the story. Mr. Tallis was point on with his research, so much so that I enjoyed reading the story and felt comfortable with the flow. If you love classical music and operas, then you’d not miss Mozart here.
If I were to rate this book in terms of Smileys: 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
-
I am having one of those days.
They come once a year and suddenly you are showered with love and lots of wishes, I hear people refer to them as birthdays. Well, happy freaking birthday to me!
So, what’s got me into this mood?
- I’m stuck writing the final chapter of Earth! It’s the fifth revision and I am stuck!
- I’m eager to get back on the road.
- For some reason, I just don’t want to believe that people are too busy and cannot write “Happy Birthday,” but simply opt for “HBD”, I mean, it’s the thought that counts right?
Do not judge a book by its cover, let me tell you what I really like about today:
- It’s my birthday!
- I have made it thus far and I’m in good health, plus the exercises I have been doing are paying off, especially that wall-sit!
- Mom’s got dinner planned (just like when we were kids 🙂 and I can finally have chapati made by her!
- Three great friends have bought me books and you know me and books, I’d pick them over any conversation or party!
- It is International Women’s Day meaning that this day is special not only because I was born, but the fact that I was born female and am heading into my womanhood just serves as a reminder of how great life is!
- It is one of my favorite Writer’s birthday too: Mr. Valerio Massimo Manfredi. Love love love him! Have you watched the film, The last legion? It was released in 2007, but forget that film- he wrote that book, The Alexander Trilogy, Tower, and a lot more historic books.
- I get to switch off my phone and read “Vienna Blood” by Frank Tallis as I sip my third cup of tea!
- My throat infection cleared up, well mostly, and I can meet Grumpy for coffee, it’s been a while.
- Roses and Lies- that novella I hinted about (on the right side bar) is coming along great. Release date: Friday 11 March 2016.
- All’s well that ends well.
Like my friend Grace says, you know you are old when the stuff you are grateful for outweighs the stuff that bugs you. Well, I am 99% grateful, but oh, that 1%
is doing a number on me– especially the whole “HBD” thing, really, people, really?HBD could mean a lot of things:
- Hot black dude
- Hot black dress
- Heavy blue dryer
- Happy big date
- He’s bored dude!
- Harry Bill Dick
- Henry Bob Dylan
- He bought drugs
Seriously, “HBD?” get it off my facebook wall…people, give this Writer a break!
-
There was a poem we used to narrate in competitions while in Primary school. The first time I stepped onto a stage and introduced myself it was to narrate this poem. I was eleven years old and it was one o’clock. One hour after a bottle of Fanta Orange, a boiled egg and three slices of dry white United bread.
Our teacher Mr. Ayuka was there as I ate behind the Social Hall telling me to be audible, to project my voice and remember my facial expressions. The words had to live once they were out of my mouth. He stuck the name card using an office pin on my uniform and told me to rush to the stage.
It was the first time I was doing a solo verse.
I had been part of the choral verse for two years now finding comfort in the voices of the other girls behind me, but this time I had to project one voice across a hall with three judges waiting for me to slip up. The voice had to be mine, but not the poem. I wanted the poem to be mine, it had to have something about the rain, soft drops of rain, deep brown puddles and wading through mud. So, I walked on the stage and when the judges told me to start, I did:
The wind howls and the trees sway,
The loose housetop sheets clatter and clang,
The open window shuts with a bang,
And the sky makes night of day.
– “A Sudden Storm,” by Pius Oleghe
And right when I was about to start the second stanza, I burped!
Mr. Ayuka looked at me and walked out of the hall. The judges listened even as I continued, but I never could finish, because the burp and the humiliation of it had taken up two minutes of my time. The second judge rang her bell and I walked out of the stage.
As fate would have it, I was awarded thirteenth place out of twenty six participants. Mr. Ayuka looked at me and then looked away. The other girls laughed about my burp but no one talked to me or asked me what I thought. One girl told me not to drink Fanta ever again because I could clearly not handle the gas it gave me and they all laughed.
I went to Mr. Ayuka to apologize but he held his hand up to make me stop. He looked at me and said, “It was the first time and you did well. You could have won, but remember when you slip in front of an audience, you have to keep going. You wasted two minutes, but if you could have continued, maybe you could have got the fifth place.”
I turned and walked back to the other girls to prepare for our choral verse presentation. When they asked about our conversation with Mr. Ayuka, all I could do was shrug my shoulders and so they called me ‘Fanta Mayai’ for the next one year. I also won most school debates, a public speech contest and four solo presentations in that one year.
-
The internet is like a maze. It holds so much and everyone has some key that opens up a portal they ask for and when they ask for it. In writing there is one thing known as curiosity that is like the flame that can keep you going. The thirst for knowledge can help you spin a good story. My Mentor says that it’s being empty every time and always opening up to enhancing what you know and how to use it.
Aside from checking for updates or notifications on social networking sites, there are some sites that I often visit to read on what other people are writing, get their flow of writing, argue or agree with the opinions expressed…and sometimes just to know that I’m not the only one who thinks of stuff.
Some of the sites that I regularly visit:
- Medium: There’s something about Coffeelicious.
- Freebooksy:For the love of free e-books
- Writing Career: Talk of listings for any competitions, jobs and grants for Writers and this guy posts it.
- Art of Manliness: Now, if only the men I knew could learn a thing or two about say ties, chivalry, history and just find the base where they can have an imaginary beer with someone else.
- Brain Pickings: Great articles, will definitely have you thinking.
- Jumia: This is for checking out items that I could buy online, I mostly check out the phones and tablets and apparently ovens.
- Africa Portal: If you want in-depth news about issues affecting Africans, developments and critical analysis of these things, this is your portal.
What are some of the sites that you regularly visit?
-
Allan knew two things as he lay on the concrete floor; he had sinned and he was not the only one. He could see the headlines at dawn. He could see his colleagues lining up to praise him. He could also see his constituents sneer upon the heaps of praises he received. There was a time he could read his wife’s expressions, how she smiled or frowned when she wanted to dispute something he said. She would be seated wearing sunglasses to hide her tears.
He would wonder if she missed him, but his children would. Henry was only ten and yet he knew more about what was right and less about what was wrong. Jacinter was eight, named after his mother, the first woman to look him in the eye and say she couldn’t recognize him beneath all his skin of lies. He had wept that day. Mercy was only five and even then he knew she was the sun that lit his world. He was always Daddy to Mercy. She would jump on his lap and fill his face with kisses whenever he came home. She would use her mother’s phone to call and say how much she missed him. She lived in a world he once believed in.
He would take a bow as ‘Mheshimiwa,’ but even then he knew in reality, there was nothing honorable or respectable about his life. The best thing he had done was to ensure his family never lacked for anything. Mercy would be the Nurse she wanted to be, without his wife-Hilda, worrying about a single cent, but even then, he took from everyone to provide for them. If that was not a curse, then he would surely be sipping red wine in Heaven.
nilichoandika 