nilichoandika

Oh, Walter, what did you do?

November 20th, 2015

Walter arrived at Maureen’s place to find that she had gone out.

He called her and after two rings she answered, her voice barely audible on the other end. She was coming. He had to wait for like three minutes.

He set the boxes of donuts and kaimati on the step outside her bedsitter and pulled out a cigarette. It was eleven o’clock.

At half past eleven, Maureen came dragging her feet bearing the longest lasting grin he had ever seen on her face. He stood and took a step back inhaling the whiff of cheap liquor on her.

“You couldn’t even buy PK? Ama Fresh?”

“Shut up! I was at this cool party in the next court. Free booze and nyam chom! Hebu get my keys from my bag because I swear I think my fingers have tripled in size, aren’t they just fat?”

“You can drink the whole of EABL but your speech can never be slurred, I don’t know how you do it. So, who invited you to this free cheap booze party you went to?”

“Eish! Wacha kucatch feelings, you are not my boyfie.”

“Good! Come in, and have a seat, or maybe just go to bed. I will deliver these to the houses, just give me that list and I will get right on it.”

“Check on the stool, next to that stove in the kitchen.”

“You put a client list next to the stove?”

“It’s on the wall! And go away, I don’t need you judging me and acting like some god, when you are as nasty and the chairman of team mafisi here in Nai! Just go.”

“Look…”

“Don’t Walter. Just take a picture of that list or pull it off the wall, whatever, and leave.”

“Thanks Love.”

“Yeah, whatever!”

He took three pictures careful to zoom in as much as he could to get all the names and their pastry of choice before he left. It was noon and he had to make it to town for his date with Ruth.

Maureen stood as soon as she heard Walter shut the door behind him. She looked at the kitchen and smiled. There were these feelings that she’d summoned and kept locked in her heart when she started working as Walter’s partner. She could look forward to seeing him every Saturday morning with his boxes of pastries smiling at her, but today was different. He was going to see Miss Boss.

That girl had better treat Walter right, or else her friends could make her not drive that posh car of hers again. It was almost one when she got into the shower and took in the cold water as it merged with her tears giving her the warmth she needed.
Hello World, meet Elly!

November 19th, 2015

I love a good romance, and I remember being online some time in June in 2014 (yes, seems like a while back, but with Elly it’s not) looking for a short read. I wanted something that was sweet, and could get my writing juices up and that’s when I came across Save my Heart by Elly.

We would chat once in a while but nothing as in depth as being engaged in the East Africa Friday Feature– her brilliant brainchild by the way, this year. Elly comes off as warm, determined and always willing to try out new stuff and so I thought, why not introduce the world to this brilliant Writer I know (who loves a good cup of coffee, pastry and buying books along the streets of Nairobi like me :-))

Hello, would you please give us an insight on yourself in terms of what comes to mind when I say or mention in each category what resonates with your personality:
Movie: Bridget Jones’s Diary – ‘Coz you gotta have a sense of humor to get the blue soup…
Pop song: Sippin’ on Sunshine – Avril Lavigne
Pastry: Pumpkin Swiss roll (I had a very good friend who’d make this and bring it in to work…it was divine, and I think of her when I see one now)
Beverage: Black Coffee with sugar
Character in a book: These change with the book am reading…lately Bridget Jones has been on my mind.

Me: So, would you rather ebook or paperback?

Elly: I love both. Ebooks are great when you’re on the move, but I love paperbacks because they remind me of libraries. Love the scent of books.

Me: Cool, and what would you rather do, read the book first or watch the movie?

Elly: Read the book first, they always leave out the best stuff.

Me: You have written great novellas on romance and each portrays a level headed heroine, and more often than not some great male leads too (hint hint: Picture Perfect), what inspires you to create such heroines?

Elly: Level-headed heroines in my life inspire my characters. Women who know what they want, women who work for what they want, and women who face down their worst fears and still keep going. Sort of feels like I’m tooting the Miss Independent horn, but I think we need more strong African women in fiction.

Me: And is there a heroine who did not turn out or do something you expected?

Elly: Yes, as you mentioned Picture Perfect, Victoria has taken on a life of her own, and she often surprises me when I write her. I started out thinking her story would end in ten chapters, but she’s gone ahead and led me on a longer journey. She’s witty, very wary of love, and is very loyal to her family. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Me: What are you currently working on? Would you share a bit of it with us?

Elly: I’m writing Koya’s Choice. This story is running on my blog. Check it out.

“I have to tell you something?” Kim said, placing his napkin on the table. “This isn’t easy. Someone has to tell you before you meet.”

Koya stopped eating and met Kim’s gaze. “You’re driving me crazy. What do you have to say?”

“Charlie is back in town.”

Koya stared at Kim. Suddenly the restaurant sounded so loud, her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. She shook her head, her gaze on the busy waiters tending to customers who ate without pause; couldn’t they hear the deafening explosion?

“Koya,” Kim said in a gentle tone.

His voice drew her back from the edge. She grabbed her napkin and dumped it on top of her mixed rice. Taking her handbag and cell phone, Koya pushed her chair back and got up.

“Come on, Koya,” Kim said.

She didn’t stop to see if he followed. Once outside, Koya headed to her car, holding on to control as it slid away fast. She tripped on a stone, her heels still too new and almost fell, managing to catch herself on her car’s bonnet. She gave in then, kicking the curb with the tip of her new grey heels. Damn it, she still needed to finish the payment on them, but…damn it, she kicked the curb again. A soft cough caught her attention and she looked up to find Kim standing a few feet away.

Koya pointed a finger at him. “Jokes are the last thing I need today, and you’re playing one that is too cruel.”

Kim crossed his arms against his chest.

“I’m not joking. Charlie is in town. Will you stop taking it out on the curb and listen to me.”

“Move closer, so I can take it out on you,” she said, shaking a fist at him. “I need to calm down. I can’t drive like this. I’m so pissed, I might kill someone.”

“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. I should have told you this evening.”

“You shouldn’t have told me at all, Kim. I don’t—I don’t care about him anymore. You telling me means you think I care and I don’t.”

Abandoning the curb, Koya turned to her car and unlocked it with a flourish. She threw her handbag and cell phone to the passenger side.

“Then why are you so pissed off?” Kim asked when she entered the driver’s side and opened the window.

Giving him a mean look, she started the car and put it into gear. She drove out of the restaurant parking lot at high speed. What did Kim mean, why was she pissed off? Koya scoffed. Who told him she needed to know about Charlie coming back to Nairobi? She was angry with Kim for thinking it mattered. Charles Dhali was old news. She’d let him go…

Me: Thank you, (I can’t wait to get into Koya’s world), What subject (s) do you find you cannot write about and why?

Elly: Politics, hardcore news events…there’s nothing wrong with writing these topics, but I feel people need a break sometimes. I love fiction and creating new worlds. Someone once called me a dreamer, and I agree with fully.

Me: And finally, what do you think is the future of reading in Kenya?

Elly: I think the future is already happening. We’re in a digital world, and reading cannot be counted only through physical books any more. Kenyans have a strong, growing online reading culture. Even those in the grassroots have access to a cell phone. I think Kenyans should capitalize on this, and embrace digital publishing to its fullest. Kenyan writers, write more, get Kenyan stories out there and get them read.

Me: Thank you, Elly!

You can read more about Koya’s Choice on Elly’s site here.

She has some awesome books on Smashwords, you can check them out here.

In 140 characters or less, you can tweet Elly here.
Don’t just pray, be the change

November 15th, 2015

The world has been praying for Paris since Friday.
Everywhere I go on social media Paris is trending and it seems as though everyone is closely following what is happening there like a close call on a football match.

I stand with Paris and have thought so much about those who have lost their lives for no reason other than someone’s selfish desire to impact pain.

On Facebook people are changing their profile picture to show their support. This has sparked a debate, with some saying that Facebook never had the same for other countries which have witnessed great terror attacks and what should bring out our humanity is bringing out our lack of it.
But, I remember two attacks in Kenya: Westgate Mall attack and Garrissa University.

We lost so many lives and those who lived cannot tell the tale because the horror of it makes it hard for them to look at faces or shake hands of people.

But even then people grieved in ways that they could and some in Paris did this:

So, why should we argue about who gets special treatment or any kind of treatment while people have died and others are injured? Why argue as our fellow human beings our brothers and sisters are grieving? Why argue when the one who is hurting needs to be reminded that there is hope and love and good people in the world?

Terrorists instill fear, and they shred every single ray of hope you have not in the world but in people. You ask, how can someone kill people who have done him no wrong? How can someone blow up kids and mosques and churches? They shred your hope in your fellow human being and if you let them convince you then you realize that life is not worth living for you are but ONE in SEVEN BILLION.
Don’t let them win.

But, I have also witnessed disregard for black people and also for Muslims. I have seen my friend forced to take off her hijab to enter a mall while I am told I can go in, and when I left with her I was insulted by the guard. I have heard from friends and family living abroad how much they have been sneered at, insulted or treated badly just for being black. It’s not right.

I did not want to sit back and let the world rip each other over social media because Paris has this special thing where you can change your profile picture to show your support.

I pray for Lebanon
I pray for Beirut
I pray for Iraq
I pray for Japan
I pray for Mexico
I pray for Russia
I pray for Africa
I pray for Kenya

But most of all I pray for you and I not because prayer is the only option but because we can pray all we want but unless we work on ourselves then it’s as good as nothing. I pray for you and I that we will be better human beings by truly working on our character, principles and morals.
Pieces: A short story

November 12th, 2015

Pieces is a story about love and betrayal, as told by Maria- a woman who loves her husband despite his cheating ways and disregard for her desire to have a family. It was published on February 18th 2013 and today I’m sharing it with you because it’s reminded me of how much a story needs to be told.

I hear those women calling on the radio. They say it and the whole country is ashamed of them. Well, I am not. I do not know them. I have to see this to the end. It is always the same voice-these women- they always have something to say.

Secrets are best taken to the grave. I know about his. I know about mine. I hate that I have to act cool, it’s like I am an accomplice. I am an accomplice to his secrets. They will never know, not even if I can help myself. I am twenty four. I am woman. I am strong. I am me. For as long as I know those four facts I will never go wrong. I always thought I was “a woman.” I felt like I was something. It was a while before it hit me that I am not something, but someone. See, someone has “one” and that means composed or one piece, unlike “thing” which means undefined or unknown. I studied English. I believe that’s why I am going round in circles when I could be telling you the truth. For as long as there’s any will in me, I will win this. I will never get mad at him or shun him. I will watch him leave and come back. I will listen to him and still believe that he’s the one.

I will hold his hand at functions and talk well of him. I will dress well and keep working. I will listen to word on the street but not be hushed by them. She will win. She will have him. She will see me and say “she’s foolish.” I will listen to her and smile. When it comes down to the truth, no one will ever ask. For when you love someone, it is never about them- but about what is. For us, it was just him and me. He was charming and handsome. I was modest and sweet. I never came across as pretty, not the way she is, or the five others before her. I was the one who could hand him change to pay for parking tickets. They were the ones he spent his salary on. I was the one who nursed him when he was ill. They were the ones that made him sick. I was the fall back plan. They were the plan. It was simple really, but whatever happened between us was beautiful. I decided to take a business class in marriage. See, it is where I do not invest in anything-I just manage. I know he can tell the difference, any man would. I have lost weight and I am two sizes down. I went to the salon and had my hair cut. I am spotting a chocolate brown short new do. My friends love it. His friends love my neck. They say that my eyes now pop out and I look younger than him. He holds me now. He holds the wind really.

There was a time when he saw right through me. Now I see right through him and what keeps me here is his guilty soul. I have this feeling that he will take a nose dive and I will have to stand and push him off the cliff, you know just like Scar did unto Mufasa. His name is Micah. We met on a Tuesday. I was making my way around the supermarket and he was doing the same. I was buying some tampons and he pretended to be buying some wet tissues. I stood there for a while before he asked “spoilt for choice, uh?”

Download the complete free story here: Pieces on Smashwords
Updates on the writing life, and other stuff.

November 11th, 2015

It’s the NanoWrimo month and there’s a lot of writing going on in different parts of the world, except in my world!

I have been on the road for a while and cannot seem to settle down and get my thoughts on a piece of paper, and it’s starting to frustrate if not really scare me.

So, today on my way to town, I decided to stop by a cobbler and ask him to fix a pair of heels that I’d love to wear to a meeting this Friday and the man was talking to his friend about the importance of reading quality writing. As I sat down to wait for him to fix my shoes, I found myself feigning interest in their conversation. His problem was that his friend was reading The Nairobian instead of reading The Standard Newspaper or The Daily Nation. He told his friend that The Nairobian was for women who had nothing but time to gossip and read slander, and he was a man- he was supposed to read things that should concern him not go on wondering or gasping at how much someone spent on their birthday or the prominent man who was caught sleeping with a pastor’s wife.

I almost joined the conversation in support of the man, but their banter got to a whole new level when a cook and a tailor voiced their opinions.

The cook, was a young man in a dusty green apron and black gumboots whom I had passed as I was making my way to the cobbler. He held that anyone could read whatever pleased them, and even God knew that not everyone could handle the serious stuff that’s why the book of Revelations comes at the end of the Bible.

The tailor admonished him for quoting the Bible, but said that she was a woman and she couldn’t stand The Nairobian, and her concern was “who had the time to spread all this rubbish about people?” She went on to say that she would rather buy sukumawiki for her family that spend her hard earned money on gossip!

They went on for a while until the cobbler handed me back my repaired heels and I paid him his due. Their conversation stayed with me for a while because I could easily jot down what they said, but cannot sit still for half an hour continue working on my series.

My Mentor said that it happens to everyone and no one loves to say goodbye, but I know that The Currents Series has to come to an end, so I can focus on other stories.

I just need to pull myself together and get it done, and I know I have to…so that’s what’s up with my writing life, as for my other adventurous life…Supercosmetics opened a new shop in Kisumu…and I couldn’t resist the urge to get some of my favorite body products plus two new sticks of lipstick which I’ll probably never wear that much…
The things a girl can do to you.

November 10th, 2015

I walked to the bus stop at 3pm last Friday.
It was still sunny when I turned down three matatus simply because I did not see myself sitting on a sambaza or squeezing between people to get home after successfully ditching work for my ATM.
So,there I was contemplating boarding Wizzy when this girl brushed past me so lightly that I took in the fresh air that graced her every move.
Wizzy had to wait.

If you’ve heard people talk of how much they love rides, then it is safe to say that I am loyal to certain matatus.
I do not own a car, but I pledge my loyalty to a matatus based on the seats- how spacious they are, the touts – how sober and kind they are and the icing on the cake (like those premier league commentators say) the music! If I like the music, I will alight smiling. I am loyal to Wizzy but when that living breeze swept me off my senses I took a step back and smiled at her.

She smiled back.
You see some of these chicks out here frown or sneer when you meet their eyes and smile. It’s like your face is a nuisance but there’s is fake. You smile at their made up face and they sneer at your original all time face, these chicks!
So I decided to try my luck and talk to her.

When I said hello and she responded, I told her she was beautiful and that I loved her shoes.
I am a flats kinda dude. No, I am not short. I think women look good in flats and that’s when they have their most natural walk. Heels make some stagger or walk like they are creeping. Kwanza akinunua zile za Ngara zenye bei imeshuka sababu ya kanjo kuleta noma.
I told her she was beautiful and I loved her shoes.
She threw her head back and laughed saying something like “aki thanks,” as she stepped closer to me.

“I’m Mark by the way.”
“Simone.”
“Simone?”
“Yes,like for real, I don’t know what my parents were thinking but I even have a sister called Raquel, like aki don’t judge or call me simon ati fifty cent, am so over that! ”
” Sawa, but it’s a beautiful name.”
“Everything is beautiful to you is that the only word you know?”
“For now it’s all I can say, would you like to hang out some time, and not just here at the bus stop waiting for a mat, I could call or text you some time. ”
“Sure.”

She gave me her number and I dialled it and she saved it as Mark and I saw her get into a matatu before I opted for the next one.
Simone.
I got home and called up the guys we had plans that involved getting wasted till Sunday.
I called Simone at 6pm.

She did not answer.
I tried the second time and I immediately said “hi beautiful.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath before the words “young man, who are you?” Her Dad.

I put my phone on airplane mode and I have been mteja since then.
View on a hill

November 9th, 2015

It’s good to be back in Kisumu.
I visited my sister at school, and their hostels are on a hill where you see this great view of Kisumu so I took some pictures, all the while thinking I need to sit down and finish writing The Currents Series and my field reports.

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The case of the vehicle that transformed into a donkey.

November 7th, 2015

My colleague told me yesterday that she heard some drivers and touts saying that a matatu (the one known as chopper) transformed into a donkey at Ahero. This transformation was witnessed by some people and word of it spread through some radio stations but it never got to TV because by the time the witnesses recovered from their shock, it had turned back into a vehicle and sped off.

This is an example of a chopper, courtesy of Google Images.

She said, aki ghai unacheka na ni ukweli, ati chopper iligeuka punda!
I asked her what about the passengers? Did they get caught up in the transformation?
And that’s when we both laughed. She hadn’t thought of it in that sense, all she remembered was getting off the chopper she had boarded when she heard that story and waiting for half an hour to squeeze into a Probox!

When I asked if she did so because of fear, her answer was “sitaki kuwa punda afadhali kuwa ngombe lakini punda ati sababu ya chopper, wacha nipande Probox!”
(I don’t want to turn into a donkey, it’s better to be a cow but not a donkey worse off because of boarding a chopper, I would rather board a Probox.)
So,on my way to see the District Education Officer today, I found myself seated next to the Driver in a chopper and before it could dawn on me a tout took a jab at the driver, “omera mad ilokri punda to iting’o Jaber! Ne, Jaber idh matoka werigi punda!”
(Hey, you had better not turn into a donkey while carrying this beauty. Hey, there beautiful lady board a vehicle and leave the donkey)

Before I could take it all in, the driver shook the man’s hand and drove off but what was evident was just how fast word of mouth can build or destroy your brand or business. I say so because so many passengers did not want to board the chopper because they didn’t want to turn into God forbid, a donkey. I just wanted to make it to my meeting in time and I did.

P. S: Wrote this yesterday, and I woke up at 5 am to post it ✌
Madam 07…

November 5th, 2015

My day has been delightful because I was approached by two suitors and let me tell you nothing beats being proposed to while sitting in the boot of a Probox leaning against sacks of dried fish!
I made my first visit to Nyatike today and had to proceed to Sori and Muhuru Bay to visit a few schools.
I loved Muhuru Bay and took a shot of this:

On our way back I was granted my wish of sitting in the boot. See, I thought that I would sit there all alone with enough leg room to listen to that new song by One Direction, Perfect,see I like something light and once you throw in a word like rendezvous then am sold! So, there I am sitting and setting up my earphones for a great one hour ride when the vehicle stops and the driver picks up two guys.
They are offered seats in the boot and I sit there looking at two men thinking, “please say no.”

But they cozy up on one side and suddenly there’s nowhere to look at.

See, I learned that sitting in the boot of a Probox is not as great as I made it out to be because there’s nowhere to look at but where you’ve come from, and with unwanted company the view gets blurry if not completely unappealing.
So, before I plug in my earphones for a One Direction experience, the guy in green shoes says, “Madam, si you give me your 07 ijaber!”
I thanked him and told him I was not willing to give him my phone number because I was in a relationship. He smiled and said it was all right, and then we started talking about Migori and his friend joined the conversation.

When we got to a place called Masara, one woman seated at the front shouted at us to remind us not to step on her dried fish. I was leaning against a sack and the stench of it had become a great friend, just like the one who farts doesn’t smell the stink of his/her fart.

But the other gentleman who was with us decided to try his luck too, and he said, “Madam, you have turned down my friend here, but listen to me, I am very light, ratong’ and in Black Beauty si together we can make very chocolate or ango’wa cha? Yes, caramer babies, what do you say Mami?”
The driver slowed down and the women laughed saying that I should accept his proposal. He looked at me waiting for an answer, but all I could think of was the smell of dried fish that had become one with my skin erasing the cherry bodysplash I had.

My Probox adventures continue…
Probox diaries: Adventures in Kuria

November 2nd, 2015

I woke up at 5:30am leaving my comfortable bed and heading to the bus stop to board a Probox to Kehancha.

Kehancha is a thirty minutes drive from Migori town and can be as comfortable or uncomfortable as can be depending on which seat you occupy in a Probox. After much travel, I believe that sharing the seat with the driver is the most uncomfortable because of the constant need to adjust the gear. The most comfortable has to be the boot because no one likes to sit there and you can pay half price.
It gets worse if you have to share it with a sack of potatoes, charcoal or cabbages as I learned today.

So, once in Kehancha I visited a couple of schools and engaged some officials in matters regarding the education and health policies and it was quite insightful. I was welcomed to tea and mandazi in one school but had to take a raincheck because I was rushing to another school.
On my way back to Migori, I contemplated making a stop at Masaba but the heavy rains made it impossible. It got worse as we approached Migori with the driver making stops because he did not have a clear view of the road ahead.
I was drenched as I left the car to seek shelter in an hotel called Zam Zam under the guise of taking tea and mandazi.
So, I guess my footwear will strictly be:

As for my writing and reading, I have two novels to read and lots of paper to write on:

But what’s a day well spent and drenched by the heavy rain in Kuria like without a picture?

I’m getting some tea and working on my reports for now, until then my journey and adventures in the rain continue.

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