Saturday, October 11, 2014

when my props came down



I am working at home again and very glad about it. If I had stuck to it, probably I would already have taken that trip  to Jamaica, bought a car, or a scooter at least.  Over ten years ago I had the big idea to work from home, but it turned out to be nonsense. Kenya was still catching up on online work. It still is, but phew, like the natural hair wave surging now, I sure hope it stays and saves me the explanations.. I remember going out and buying a new laptop- to help me work- but I lacked the courage and patience that years have taught me. 

So when I laid out my plan, it said I would launch on 1st October. I did and it has been rather interesting. At this rate I should write a book for caregivers on how to keep an aged relative occupied. My granny, after breakfast and medicine will ask why I can’t get her a panga  so she  can dig about the compound.  I will tell her why you don’t go pull out the weeds in the back yard. She’ll come back 20 minutes later and ask exactly what I’m doing. 

Why haven’t you finished. Is it that animal (the computer)? Is it giving you trouble? 
 Yes, it’s slow.
She’ll then lay on the couch, and play with the cat- the neighbor’s cat who has taken permanent residence in our house. We have named her  Filis .
Then she’ll say. You should plant potatoes.. this land going to waste. And you should have a panga.
I go out and ask the shopkeeper to lend me a hoe. I give it to granny. 20 minutes later, I call her in to have gruel. She asks.. is this work too hard?
Yes it is, I say.
But God will give you a job one day.
This is my job.

This question and answer goes on until seven, or  five when I’m not writing about kinetics. I feel sorry for her, but what to do lah?
Her boredom has reached a boiling point. She is bored to shreds. I could suggest she counts her hair.. but I’d get a telling off. I took her to look at the train last evening. Well, trust Rift Valley Railways to be two hours late. So we never got to see it, and the screaming hawkers by the rail way line gave her  a migraine.

Today, we went out to scout for a panga. We we we. Kumbe she had an agenda. There is this rosebush I love to plant, the one that grows and twirls and finally produces tiny pink roses. I planted one two years ago. Two weeks ago, my mother and I spent an entire morning tying it to the bathroom bars to get it away from the door, directing it to the roof. It gives a good shade...and she says to me.
- This plant is male-
-Why?-
-It has never flowered, two years now-
-I think maybe it has not matured-
And few days later, a bunch of buds sprouted just above the door to prove her wrong. Today, when I was at the meetings, and mother was at the salon, granny gave it a rough chop at the base-whack- and I almost fainted when I came back and saw the withering leaves.

'How can you not know Curacao? Didn't they teach you history in school?'
"Well, I know Jamaica". 
'You can't be serious.'

And I made a note  to myself to Google before asking an honest question like, so is Curacao a city or a country and where did the population migrate from?
That's the drift of my  next blog post

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