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  • Books to Read in 2016

    December 28th, 2015

    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:

    image

    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

    image

  • Walking Away

    December 26th, 2015

    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.

  • When you have nothing to write about

    December 24th, 2015

    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.

  • In the morning

    December 21st, 2015

    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.

  • Book Review: Maggie and the Mercury Retrograde

    December 20th, 2015

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    Blurb: My life is spinning out of control faster than I can say sorry for all the things I’ve done since this whole planetary shift began. Like apologize for the fact I made out with my soon-to-be stepbrother. And his stepbrother. And that I’m crushing on the one guy I swore I’d never be into…while keeping it all from my BFF.

    Mom says I think the world revolves around me, but the truth is, I’m just trying to survive the worst week of my life.

    The universe is legit out to get me. It started when my gaming nemesis deleted my AsteroMine galaxy and it’s only gone downhill from there.

    It isn’t my fault. I swear.

    I skipped this book as I scrolled down for books to read on Amazon. I am not into gaming, and the from the blurb I knew that I would be dealing with a self-centered teenager and I just couldn’t take it. So, imagine after scrolling for fifteen minutes only to return to that book you’d sworn not to buy- and then buying it.

    The story revolves around Maggie a.k.a Magz, a seventeen year old who spends her time online playing Asteromine galaxy, and it doesn’t help that her middle name is Nova which gives her a sense of belonging in the galaxy. When she gets the chance she’s been working for, to beat the two year champion, “spaceballz” Magz takes it- looking forward to a win, only to have her galaxy wiped out. She is furious and that’s when thing’s start going downhill and it starts with her boyfriend, Orion, breaking up with her and her mom announcing that she is getting married to a man she’s been dating for a few weeks, and yeah, she’s getting a step brother too.

    I could not stand Magz most of the time because of how self-centered she was, and the fact that it was hurting those around her even made it worse. I almost gave up on the book, but before I put it down I realized that it was exactly what advanced the plot. Maggie wanted everyone to be concerned about making her happy and giving her what she wanted, yet she never did the same for her family and friends.

    PS: If you are into the gamer geek books, this might not be the Loki to your Thor.

    Perks of reading this book: When things start to go downhill for Magz, they just tumble real fast. It’s like life is hitting her on every end and she cannot stop to take in everything.

    Secondly, the author creates not just the world according to teens, but it is as real as being a teenager is for there’s the struggle with coming to terms that you are growing up and adults expect you to pull your weight while a part of you still want them to be worried about you.

    Thirdly, who needs a best friend like Tallie. She fires back when she’s put down, but still has her insecurities.

    And the fourth reason could be for you to check it out for yourself, because I’m positive you’d not feel the exact same way I did while reading it, and that’s what makes reading a book great! Same words, different perceptions, a whole range of reviews!

    Get it on: Amazon

    Visit the Author’s site: Anya Monroe

     

  • Twende

    December 18th, 2015

    Call me Tony, because chances are you’d spell my name wrong: Antony instead of Anthony. It’s always the “H” that suffers as a silent partner.

    My job involves motion and mathematics and more patience than I subscribed for. I report to work at 4am and leave at 9pm. On Fridays and Saturdays I leave at midnight only to return to my bedsitter at 1am and wake up at 4am. If there is one thing I seek, it’s an eight hour sleep, but we both know that for as long as I work here, that will never happen.

    Call me Tony. I’m a Tout.

    I am the man who shouts the route the matatu is going. The one who signals the driver to stop when you want to alight or board. Sometimes, I am known to whistle, shout or hit the side of the bus- anything to get the driver’s attention over the loud music.

    I am the one who takes your money, and gives you change without complaining when you shout “Weh! Change!” or say how stupid touts are.

    I have never missed a day of work because in this city, you have to earn your pay, and no matter what you do- we are all in the chase. Some get there easier like Politicians buying soap for thousands, or setting up Facebook pages for a million shillings. At the end of the day, it’s all about the money and am on my feet from four in the morning to nine in the night getting it- and it’s still not enough to get me what I desire.

    So, here’s the deal, imagine always picking up this fly mama at a certain stage every weekday, and she always smiles at you when she walks in and looks you in the eye when she hands you the fare, and you start wondering, would she be into a guy like me?

    It’s like looking at the bumper sticker on the vehicle in front of you in a traffic jam. It won’t move no matter how much you will it to, not unless the traffic police clear the lane. This lady is always at the stage at 5am waiting for the matatu. She smells like clean sheets, like those that have been washed in sunlight and left to dry then ironed to perfection just for you. The kind of sheets that summon you to sleep. If you saw her and then saw me, you’d laugh like Mike. He’s the driver who knows I have it for the lady, big time! When we approach the stage he shouts “Tosh! Mbona husemi twende ukifika hapa?”

    She always smiles at me and I have never stopped smiling back, and a man needs motivation in life, but waking up at 4am just to pick her up is enough to get me going for now. It’s this life, twende!

  • The Restaurant

    December 17th, 2015

    Walter cleaned the windows and watered the plants at The Restaurant that morning. He had received confirmation from Equity Bank regarding his request for a loan. They had even offered to have him attend a workshop on Friday on Financial Management and essentially Book Keeping.

    He’d called his Mother to tell her the good news and she had gone on her long prayer sessions forgetting that his airtime was limited to subscriber rates. The line went dead just when she got to the “God bless my Sons…” part, and he really wanted to hear the “even though their Father was a reckless man, what, talk of drinking and sleeping wherever, please save my sons from the devil that is Kenya Breweries.”

    They knew her prayer by heart.

    He’d heard it more than his siblings because he was the one who looked like their Father and even scrunched his face like the man. He was also the one who hated him the most.

    He returned to the store room to find Maureen waiting for him.

    “So, how did your date go? You never said.”

    “It was okay.”

    “Nimekataa hiyo! Hutaniosha na maji chafu nikiwa hapa, tell me, what happened because it’s been a week and I have not seen that woman walk through those doors, na vile wanatip poa, hebu sema kabla sijakuharibia jina!”

    “Are you threatening me just for a story?”

    “Hapana! Sababu ya Telemundo, kwani? So, what happened?”

    “The date was good, we talked, had milkshakes and then that was it.”

    “So, how is your mom doing?”

    “My mom is much better, thanks for asking.”

    “Ehe! So, was she really sick ama you were just pulling a ‘woiye!’ stunt?”

    “You ask too many questions and why are you inside the store room? This place stinks and it’s dump! You might catch a cold or worse off get bitten by a spider.”

    “I’m watching you Walter, you are up to something because you have never been this quiet…I can feel it, you are doing something big.”

    Walter looked at Maureen with the corners of his lips twitching, in readiness for a smile or full blown laugh, but he composed himself as he watched her walk out of the store room whistling. He could not tell her about his business.

     

  • It will rain

    December 14th, 2015

    Walter walked into The Restaurant two hours into his reporting time holding an umbrella. He made his way past the lounge, the kitchen and into the changing rooms. He put his bag down and set his umbrella by the wall leaving drops of water on the floor. He rubbed his palms together and checked his phone for messages before switching it off.

    He started to remove his jacket when the Manager walked in. She greeted him and handed him his time sheet. There were two kinds of managers that Walter had worked under in the industry. The first was the one who listened and laughed with you or shared a cigarette only to submit a bad evaluation that got you fired. The second were like Priscah; chubby, round like ball gum, cute like a teddy bear but mean as that kid in class one who took your ice from you and beat you to the ground when you started to cry. The woman had been with them for a year and everyone stood still when they heard her heels announce her presence ‘tock, tock, tock!’
    “What time have you written there Walter?” she asked.
    “Nine thirty.”
    “I see, and what time are you supposed to report here?”
    “At seven o’clock.”
    “Is there a reason why you are this late Walter? And is it a good one?”
    “Yes, Madam, there is.”
    “What is it?”
    “My Mother was referred to Kenyatta Hospital for treatment, and I had to spend the night by her side. I apologize for being late today. I will see to it that she is taken care of by my cousin so I can be here on time.”
    “I am sorry about your Mother Walter, but this is your job and customers cannot wait for you to come from Kenyatta to serve them tea. Get ready and take over from Maureen and Joseph.”
    “Thank you, Madam.”

    He watched her walk out of the room and released the breath he was holding. He looked around the changing room-they had two closets, one belonged to the men and the other the women.

    Everything about the place put him on edge, from the lighting to the pay and the staff. His mother would have killed him for that, but he could not tell her that the reason he was late was because he was working on a proposal for that Equity bank loan he needed.

    He had been here for two years and that was two years away from his dream.

    It was eighteen minutes to ten o’clock when he walked out for one drag. He lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall for that moment of relief. It was still raining even as he smoked, and his old man came to mind for always saying that “women are like rain, if they decide to pour, you can seek shelter, or run, or try and cover yourself with an umbrella but they’ll still pour.”

  • When you were mine

    December 9th, 2015

    Have you ever had an idea that won’t let you ignore it? Here’s a short story that’s been with me today.

    when you were mine(1)

    Martha left her husband of three years. She stepped out of their house carrying a backpack.

    It was seven o’clock when she arrived at the bus stop.

    The bus came at eight. She read two books while she waited. Her ticket indicated that she’d be leaving at half past seven, but she did not mind as long as she was not late. She handed the Inspector her ticket and walked in the bus. It was ten minutes past eight when she received his text, “where are you?”

    She switched off her phone and threw it inside her bag.

    She closed her eyes and prepared for a seven hour trip back home. She would stay there until she figured out how to forgive.

    II

    Their wedding featured in magazines and newspapers in the country. Headings such as “True Love Wins,” “Wedding of The Year,” filled the shelves more than bread and milk. People she’d never met liked her wedding pictures on Facebook and wished her well. The world loved them from their pictures. However, she loved George from her soul and heart. He loved her from his mind and that revealed itself in three years.

    She did not believe it even when she lay on the floor at midnight.

    She did not ask where she had gone wrong or what he lacked when he came home the next day smelling of cheap hotel soap. She set up his bath, made his breakfast and wished him well at work.

    She never missed a day of work or a Sunday mass service.

    George lived as he pleased and to the world they were the most beautiful couple but to Martha, they were roommates. She thought of every word and explanation she would give to her parents as she walked up to their gate and pressed the button. They would be happy to see her. Her mother would bake a cake in the afternoon and her Dad would look at her through those glasses that were always at the tip of his nose. He would shake his head and say, “You cannot fool me Martha, I know you are running from this one.”

    The guard opened the gate and smiled at her as he took her bag.

    “Karibu, nyumbani…umepotea sana, ei yawa! Umefanya vizuri kwa kuja.” Welcome home, you’ve been gone for so long but it’s good you are here.

    “Asante, habari ya huku?” Thank you how’s this place?

    “Tuko tu, karibu.” We are okay, welcome.

    She followed him into the house. Her Father was the first person to see her through the window in his study and he was the first one to embrace her. “You are thin!”

    “It is good to see you too Daddy.”

    “You are here and that’s all that matters for now. Your mother is getting ready for her Mother’s Union meeting. She will take awhile come with me to the kitchen and we can talk all about your travel.”

    “It’s good to be home Daddy.” Her Father stopped and looked at her for a while then pulled her into a tight embrace.

    “What was that for? Did you miss me that much?”

    “I know things are not well, but I am happy you came to us. I have been yearning to call in a favor from Judge Mambo.”

    “Things are fine Daddy. I just need time.”

    “You can fool the world Martha but not me. I did not listen to arguments for twenty years to take in a lie from you! God is seeing you! Enough of all this, your mother made some carrot cake in the morning and she hid it somewhere in this kitchen, help me find it and I can tell you all about my day!”

    “The doctor said you are not supposed to take sugar.”

    “The doctor said so, but he did not warn your mother to stop cooking things that have sugar! Now, start looking before that woman comes here!” She hugged him one more time and walked to the fridge where she found the carrot cake. They sat down on the floor with their slices and talked about the changes in the Judiciary. He asked her questions about the latest bills tabled in the parliament and she created scenarios that could be presented in court. They did this until they ate the last bit of cake then walked back to the sitting room to watch National Geographic.

  • Curtain Call

    December 8th, 2015

    My friend, Bill was involved in a motorcycle accident, of the injuries that he got, none made him cry except for the fact that he’ll not play the piano.

    Not today, but maybe in six months with intensive therapy. He told me this over the phone at 11:23pm yesterday. It was thirty-seven minutes to midnight. He asked “what would you do if you could not write anymore, not because of some stupid accident or careless kids testing their sweet ride, but just waking up one day and you cannot write, what would you do?”

    I said, “I don’t know.”

    It was a lie. The truth is I would cry until I could cry no more.

    Even the thought of not writing is enough to make my fingers shake like they need their fix, but in that moment all I could think of were my favorite Writers. I could think of them locked up in a room staring at blank sheets of paper or screens waiting for the words to come to life for years and then nothing…or having that manuscript turned down by editors and agents for years only to have one person take it up and boom, Harry Potter!

    For years, I have heard of Writer’s Block and read so many articles and experiences on having this brick wall you cannot climb over as a Writer, but never experienced the agony that I expected would come of it. I count myself lucky, for if there is a thing as cruel as a stumbling block enough to take me into a depression, then may the heavens keep it away from me- I am unbalanced as it is already.

    So, what would you do when the curtain closes?

    When you have taken that bow, and the flowers and then you are left with nothing but the silence you begun with?

    I don’t know, but what has me thinking about this is the fact that I am ending The Currents Series and after that…what’s next?

     

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