Parallel Homesickness- A poetry collection

 Let us talk about my poetry book for 30 seconds, by reading this review I received.

If you would like a copy of the book. Get it here. 

https://nuriakenya.com/product/parallel-homesickness-by-cecilia-gathoni/

How are we?

 How is everybody doing?

How are the young 21, 22,25 year olds coping with the sudden deaths of their friends, peers, brothers, sisters, cousins,,, 

How are the parents, spending hours waiting to identify bodies at the morgue doing?

Doctors, isn't there a better way to identify a corpse? I am not very smart but, doesn't DNA testing work?

Are we doing okay?

 How is our mental health?

How are we feeling emotionally?

Have we cried?

Have you talked to someone?

Do you need a hug?

As I shift from twitter, to Tiktok, to Aljazeera, to scanning whatsapp status to try and guess, what's gonna happen?

We have seen uncensored shootings, and body parts sprawled on the street.

 Blood.

 Lots of blood.

 Blood stained pavements,

 and now, I jump, whenever I see a gunia by the road side.

Gunia ni za mizigo, sio za maiti.

Is this how people in parts of South Sudan, Ukraine and Congo have felt?

What if I become a refugee?

 What if I am abducted,

 Mistaken identity.

Fear grips me.

And as I CONSTANTLY battle neutrality against radicalisation, I find myself, on an active paralysis state.

Breath

Exhale.

How is everybody doing?

Since I turned 15, I have experienced death of someone I have know closely as often as every year. My best friend died when I was in form two, her brother had died the year before, and she had lost her mum the year before that, we would talk about it, and when she died, I cannot describe the pain. I would have wanted to tell, her, hey, imagine my best friend has died.

Since then I have buried family members, friends and acquintances, and you would think I would have got enough experience by now. No, I haven't. Every death brings fresh grief. 

So my heart is crying for those who have watched brains fly from the heads of their comrades, for those who have to look through rotting flesh to see if these teeth belong to my sister.

Efficiency, why we must learn to be.

 There are no schools that you will sign up to to learn how to be efficient.

Most will teach you a profession or a skill and it's up to you to learn how to execute the job systematically.

When I learned how to be a loctician, I observed that many were just happy to learn to do retouches, and with the use of wax- reason?- It's quick and easy.

But many are not interested in learning how to seal locks that have holes in them, how to improve the density of thinning locks, how to reattach broken locks.

There are some who can't even shampoo locks because- That's the sink person's job-

When one of the locticians in the Salon I was apprenticing at realised I was interested in making artificial locks, he gave me the right tool, and taught me step by step for a week.

Later on, I was being trained in a different locks salon and I observed how they could mend torn locks using disappearing thread, how they made instant locks through an injecting technique, and finally when I was ready they taught me how to start fresh locks, how to shampoo fresh locks, and how to apply dye on locks.

At yet another  salon I learned how to install sisterlocks and microlocks, and for four months I worked with a girl who had learned the American way of installing sisterlocks using a measuring technique.

The one thing I challenged her was, even though she could make clean and neat installations, she had no idea what to do when hair started to thin. I recognized that it was also in the way the retouch was done, which would lead to weaker locks.

My previous training with the rasta brothers now came into play.

Rasta locticians don't use combs or scissors in their retouch. It's all in the hands. 

And African hair is not for the faint hearted. I will write more about this in a different post but just to mention here, I got trained in natural hair maintenance for six months. I learned what to expect, how to handle our woollike hair, and the science behind it. But with this knowledge, I was able to know how manoeuvre around locked hair.

Hair, like everything else, must be nurtured, with hands and fingers for it to flourish.

I have seen that with my garden. Plants need to be touched and reassured.

Hair can tell when your hands care. 

That is why you hear -huyo ako na mkono wa nywele-

I used to think it was an old woman's tale until I started getting feedback from new clients.

'My hair has a growth spurt since I started coming to you.'

'I feel like my hair has started to lengthen since you started doing my reties.'

'I no longer have dandruff.'

'I didn't even know you had started, you are very gentle.

Five years ago I didn''t know I could do hair. But I approached it with an open mind, with a determination to be excellent. And if I could blow my own trumpet here, I believe I have become one of the best locticians in East Africa. Just give me award already 😁

And that is my goal- to always, always do everything  efficiently.

I keep learning and acquiring different skills, because I believe as long as we are alivewe must continue to learn.

'Whatever your hand finds to do, do with all your might, for there is no work nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom in the Grave, where you are going- Ecclesiastes 9:10

Hard Work: It's not that we don't get tired, we do. Necessity keeps us going.

 When my friend lost her husband, she told me the hardest comfort message she found unbearable from friends and family was 'oh you are so strong.' She asked me "Do I have a choice? If I breakdown and roll on the floor, will these people come and help me live my life?"

She was right. People are relieved when they see you holding it together, they don't have to do anything more.

A friend sent me a message that I would say helped me get through this week; in part it said ' Jehovah knows how hard you work for everything you have.'
I felt seen, acknowledged and understood.

I have always worked hard, even when it didn't pay anything. Now I work hard and it pays and sometimes it's irritating when someone turns to you and says 'Oh you are so hardworking.'

Get behind me Satan. Do I have a choice?

It's either I die standing up or die of starvation.

Many people have a back up plan. They can always -go back home- or -go live with their older brother for a while- sell their inheritance-get another job.

For me, what I have is what I have worked for in sweat and blood.

This week I had a retie and asked a girl I know to go with me and assist.

When we were done she exclaimed ' Oh you are so fast! '

Do I have a choice really?

Even if my legs are killing me and I can barely stand up, I have to tell myself to move quicker, work faster.

Else we'll leave the client's house at midnight.

I see that happening in salons a lot. Where hairdressers take lunch breaks with a half done head.

FACT:

You tire the client, you lose motivation, and the following day you are too tired to take another client.

I don't work fast because I am a machine, I work hard because I have to before my back gives in. I just don't need platitudes, just ignore me, okay?

If you haven't bought my books talk to me and tell me the reason +254701030005

This chic: The men from the Lake Side

  

I can’t sleep for various reasons so I might as well tell you an embarrassing story about that time when 

the whole 32 years of the womanhood  in me had a crush on a younger Luo man. He was possibly 

27  but that is still a big age difference in both of our tribes,  an older woman is shocking enough 

to take your mother straight to her grave. But it didn’t matter. Mimi I had never met such a beautiful 

human being and I was embarrassing myself flirting left right and center until my friend asked me - it’s 

that bad huh? -

I have always been into Tall dark and handsome homo-sapiens whose forefathers invented fish to be their main cash crop. It is not the reason I can understand 30% Dholuo, it was an idea I developed before I even 

developed, out of the fear of marrying my half- brother by mistake. 

My mother being a single woman who didn’t particularly think highly of kabira, gave me answers to questions I had but had not asked; there was no way my biological father could have been a Luo. 

So if I was going to get married, I would marry the darkest Luo I could find. I would not chance marrying a Kikuyu and end up giving birth to a child with three eyes. 

Then I met my father but my attraction to the lake people didn’t disappear. 

In my defense, I had not met my cousins from biological father’s side-  what if I married a cousin? -

Anyway, I told my Luo friends about this crush and they did a thumbs up sign which to me meant I was almost engaged and already planning the garden wedding ikuwe hapo Bethsaida Gardens, Kikuyu Town.

But then after some research my two friends managed to find out that this hot brotha was seeing someone and his attention to me was just good manners, to a big sister.

He didn’t call me big sister big sister passe. But ushawai itwa big siz na mtu unacrushia? Ama small bro (haha that’s even worse)

So like a month after realising Kumbe I am just a big siz, my friends invited me over and they had a big size Bacardi and sprite. As we ate and drunk, my friend’s  husband mentioned he had a movie recommendation for me and since the Barcardi was already taking effect, I did not resist when he searched and played the movie

- He is not that into you.- 

I watched, ate crisps and dipped in more rum, and I guess that numbed my feelings.

Huyo alienda hivyo.

Next I might tell you about that time I was into Chinese guys. 

But if you haven’t bought any of my books you are missing out.

Get one here

https://nuriakenya.com/product/parallel-homesickness-by-cecilia-gathoni/