nilichoandika

Literature in a hurry

January 26th, 2016

Have you ever tried to swallow hot porridge?
It’s a futile attempt at controlling temperature that results in a swollen tongue, scorched throat, and tears, bucketloads of tears. How do I know? I was young and foolish, that’s how.
I bought a copy of my first newspaper of the year this past Saturday. I didn’t want much from it except a page or two on Literature that’s featured in the Daily Nation Saturday paper. It did not disappoint. The title Literature is under siege, but literary intellectuals are silent. I remember looking at that article and spreading the paper on my sister’s blue carpet as I walked into her kitchen to fix my second cup of coffee. I walked around the house as the kettle went to work for that coffee I needed desperate to read Godwin’s article.
I had decided that this year I would invest in matching my lingerie. I mean there are reasons for and against that but I thought why not? But, aside from a wardrobe upgrade I have been speaking out more about writing and the need for content that speaks to an audience, not in a way that they hear, but a way that they internalize the message.
I read somewhere that:

Journalism is literature in a hurry

I remember going through Godwin’s article thinking of how many people did take up Literature at the University and why they went for it. See, I think I would have taken it up but I have always had that Psychology cloud hanging above my head with a lightning bolt ready to strike lest I deviate from my course.

In his article Godwin writes:

It is deeply ironical that the influence of literary and cultural intellectualism has been so roundly trumped by the irrational ideas, whether they are rich quick allure and materialism, or the sectarianism of tribe and religion, in times of information explosion.

He goes on to ask a question that has given me no peace since that Saturday evening :

Is our idea of literature consistent with the current challenges that society faces?

In my previous post Like a time stamp in the heart, I shared three questions that I believe every writer ought to ask themselves and figure out an answer. I went ahead and stated why I write and why I hold dear the ability to put words together in an attempt to create. So, why did his article bother me so much? Why did his view on literature especially in the higher education institutions send me chasing after my own tail?

I don’t know. And no, it’s not denial, it’s the state of uncertainty for the feeling is there but for now what precise reason, I don’t know.
Since then I have read a few good books and bought even more.

There’s more to this but if one thing is true it’s that Literature will never die. It may be under siege as Godwin writes, but that is his view and we are seven billion people and the pen knows those are quite a lot of views.
Shall I consider myself a Literary Intellectual and say that I’m speaking about it, and writing about it? I don’t know…
Like a time stamp in your heart

January 22nd, 2016

My mentor sessions have resumed and I am taking a break from a meeting at work to share this.
Last year was remarkable for me, I published books that people actually read and felt compelled or moved by them so much so that some called me to discuss what the book did to them. I mean, for any writer or Creator to simply have that kind of feedback is a great accomplishment.

And what next?

My mentor asked me what I had in mind this year after publishing the books and he started with three questions that I believe every young writer who is breaking into print needs to ask themselves.

1. Why do you write?
2. What do you expect to achieve out of publishing?
3. How will you go about achieving or realizing 1 and 2?

The Currents Series saw three books released via Amazon Kindle last year. I have not made record sales because I am more into the writing and have done nothing much to market the books or make then available for purchase here in Kenya. It all comes down to shipment costs versus distribution here and I will admit I suck at it.
It’s exactly where I would love to start on this year. If my desire is to be vastly read then I have to vastly distribute my books and that is what I am working on and it does not help that my mentor is into Business Administration. I am taking a crash course in how to market and sell and he’s not giving me a break or allowing me to doubt myself. I am grateful for that.

The three questions all mean something to me because for years I have approached publishers only to hear that am not what they want.
It’s always more like can you write this for us first then we can talk?

For a creative do you know what it’s like to be put in a production line?

I will tell you it kills you inside. You produce to please and you are rewarded with money, but a part of you dies every time you numb your inner voice for cash and fame.

So, I will tackle the first question and it may come off as Romanticism but whichever way you take it, this is where I stand when it comes to writing:

I write books so they live long after I am gone. It would wound me to my core to have a reader pick my book only to forget it after they’ve closed the last page. I write so these words crawl up your spine, delve into your veins and stick on you like a memory too real and alive to be ignored or forgotten. I would not want my stories to fade like magazines, each issue is quickly forgotten the moment it hit the shelves as the next one is being produced. I write to live long after these fingers and this brain are unaware of the music of my soul.
Hakuna Matata

January 21st, 2016

You’d not believe in love at first sight until it rammed into you at a vendor filling your nostrils with a twinge of lime sending you two or three steps back. Trust me, I believe in love and more so in lust and being speechless.

It is 11:45am and I am listening to Fireproof by One Direction in this cyber cafe along Moi Avenue in Nairobi. Chances are you have spotted me: brown braids, brown bag, blue jeans, black ngomas, and a walk like the apocalypse is coming!

I was heading to Cafe Clarion opposite Jeevanjee Gardens for a cup of house coffee, but I had to stop and write this.

Scoot closer…just a little more, okay, listen…I met this guy! Yes, who would have thought, right? Yeah, so listen, I was walking from the bus station when I made a stop at that book vendor right outside Tuskys. You know I cannot resist a good book, or a bookshop or a vendor. So, I was talking to that guy asking if he had any Biographies and he was checking around picking and dropping books like they were not the speck of gold he needed. I was following his hand movements careful not to touch any book because I had to buy just one book. If I touched any but a Biography I wouldn’t have any money left for my coffee. So, he’s looking and I am helping when someone runs into me sending me off my feet and just before I land flat on the books, someone grips my hands jerking me up and I crush into this pile of muscle!

I’m telling you it was like running for your life only to have someone shake you out of your nightmare! There was this scent: I know Hugo Boss for Men, I know there’s one with a twinge of lime and just a dash or euphoria, like an arousing of senses you never thought existed in your body. This muscle smelled divine especially at 11am!

So, I step back and think, “You are holding onto some chic’s man!”

I look up and the vendor is grinning like he’s won the SportPesa jackpot and this muscle is smiling and blushing at me.

“I’m sorry, look, someone pushed me and please, it’s my bad. Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Pole, I didn’t mean to, am Anthony.”

I looked at his hand and thought to myself, if I took it, this could spoil the moment or it could leave me with his scent for the rest of the day and so I looked at his hand and took it into mine. It was warm and all I know is I said, “Dora.” He smiled and drew me back to the vendor with his hand still holding mine and said, “Let’s get you out of the way, so no one runs into you again, by the way, you’ve got a beautiful name.” The vendor clears his throat and says, “Msupa, aki sina, but pitia pitia tu, nikiget nitakusort.”

“Sawa, thanks.”

I withdrew my hand from Anthony’s and told him I was walking to get coffee. He did that thing with his lips again, half smiling- half grinning, before saying he’d walk a while with me and so we stepped together in line. I know you think am insane, but if you see that short fat flying cherub called Cupid, tell him he’s gotta ease up on the potion.And then this song by Zikki came to mind( PS: It’s the full video):

So, there we are walking, asking each other questions in our heads not looking at each other and then he stopped and walked back after saying ‘goodbye.’

See, the first thing I did was walk into this cyber and just put it out there, so that cute guy wherever you are…Asante. And about running into me, “well, hakuna matata.”
Outside looking in

January 19th, 2016

It’s good to be back in an area with 3G connection. I say this with much respect for Nairobi because I know it’s upgraded to 4G but all the same, being in a place where the network connection is enough to send a tweet is like fresh air to me.
I realize that now.
So, following my travel diaries, I have been up and about in Elgeyo Marakwet visiting different villages and looking into sustainable health and sanitation practices at the household level.

My first day saw us stop over at Eldoret town where we boarded a vehicle to Kapsowar town. These vehicles were the old matatus with passengers sitting on benches and facing each other as the driver drove like he’d stolen the car. It was dusty and made my back stiff but I appreciated one thing about the touts and passengers: they paid when they got to their destination.

The second shock came when we got to the hotel where we would spend the first two nights. I found the rooms simple and clean plus the shower had hot water which was much needed after that bumpy ride. Seriously, is it just that Kalenjins love speed so much that they not only run like the wind but also drive like it? I couldn’t understand that, even when the room attendant said it with pride that they do their stuff fast.

The shock was the night. Our room was directly above a bar and at midnight I had to listen to two women first over who would go with the man. I stepped out of bed to watch the commotion and never went back to sleep after that which was my second mistake of the day.

View of Kapsowar from Kamok

What I loved most about Elgeyo Marakwet was the hills and valleys and how nice people were despite the fact that I needed a translator most of the time since I do not speak their language.
Out and About

January 13th, 2016

Hello, it’s been a while since I posted something. My time has been spent traveling in Elgeyo Marakwet.

Chebara Dam in Chebiemit Elgeyo Marakwet

A beehive in Kamok Village.

Huts, with red mud walls ☺
Believing in yourself and other stories

January 8th, 2016

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!

-1.281040 36.820933
Scheherazade: A Legendary Queen and Storyteller

January 4th, 2016

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.
New Year, Old Goals, New Goals.

January 2nd, 2016

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).
Space

December 30th, 2015

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.
Why you should eat maize while travelling

December 29th, 2015

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!