35, I'm spinning

It’s called- miti yenye mua ya samawati- and I’ve been editing it the entire month. I gave it to my cousin to read it last night and he made corrections. Like I said before, writing  stories for children can go both ways. A pass or a fail.

 I had told the publisher I would  be sending it to them  but I have decided to first find myself a kamusi since I don’t know  what pollen is called in Swahili and from  what I can tell, the Swahili I speak, when I have to, is of my own originality. Like until last night I thought  the expression ‘haiya’ was Swahili. It’s not, apparently.

I’ll give the story sometime to steam as I edit my other stories. I have three  which I’m very confident about, I’ll need to find a publisher for those though. Maybe I should email some Nigerian publishing houses. I recently read-Say You’re One of Them- by a Nigerian writer, it poked at my emotions. I don’t  know if I can poke at people’s emotions in that manner.

On another note, I typed  this on my phone  some few days ago. It’s the closest to a Haiku I ever got.

 I feel you in every pounding of my heart,

 Resounding in every pore and nerve,

 Coursing through me like life.

I’m getting back to –moby dick- I want to finish reading it to get on with life, and I think it might bring my mind back from all the- Wimpy Kid diary diversions-

34, thoughts and meditations

pic by Andrew Eng

I never did love children. I thought they were all selfish, attention seeking, insane little humans. I remember when my cousin was born, I kept as far out of reach as was possible, that meant even offering to go give the cows a graze in the middle of the day.

Yesterday I got left  by the bus and had to wait another 45 minutes for the next one and as I sat there feeling  depressed, I started to go through my phone and was completely lost in it. I saw a figure pass very close to me, then felt someone standing behind me, I looked up and saw a hand outstretched. A young boy of about 10 or 11 years was waiting to shake my hand. He said how are you, smiled and went on his way. It took a while for my mind to register what  had just happened and it brought some tears to my eyes. I don't know the biy, but we live in the same condominium. A well mannered boy.

One my good friends is a little girl called Pyu li, I’m friends with the  whole family, but it is understood  that whenever I visit, It's her I'm visiting. She’s wonderful, she’ll draw some lopsided butterfly and write-Cecilia, and give to me. She loves me a lot, that’s for sure and as much I didn’t know it, I love her a lot, the same way I loved a young boy who despite his age spoke a lot of sense and always cheered me up. 

He’d buy me chapatti with his pocket money and tell me about school, I listened, replying in English since he spoke quickly in sheng(Kenyan slang)

So when another young girl came over and gave me a card and a lollipop last week, I couldn’t help it when I got home and read what she wrote. She thanked me for being her friend and I sobbed.

It is very easy to ignore children. You think- ah, let them go over  there and look at some plants or something, or they should go play with other children. 

Recently I gave one of my children’s stories to one kid, he said- "Sis . Cecilia,(in Malaysia you address everyone as sister or brother, uncle or auntie or miss, or sir)  I donno, why don’t you look for other names for the characters. These names are boring."

I’ll write more for kids, it’s harder but it’s a happier pursuit.

33 , and going strong

It's been three weeks without my computer but it feels like a month. I've been trying to compile a portfolio but every time I realise- ah I don't have this I don't have the other, all in my computer, probably shredded to bits by the worms and the trojan horses. But, I'm getting another machine and I know I will have to love it more than I loved my old one.
I finished the portfolio, but I'm not impressed it's just plain and I 'm not very sure how to make it look better since my photoshop lessons passed over my head when I attended the class.

Last evening, I took a stroll through little Mumbai in KL and went into a DVD store. I could only recognise the movie- Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa- so I asked why so expensive? Even though I knew it was cheaper than it's usual price(been trying to get it) So she said, this one original only, if you want pirated also got, very cheap.
So I got the movie but I will have to buy some time to watch it :)

I also sent the poetry collection to a freelance publisher but he didn't reply so I'm thinking he's probably not very enthused, but I can understand, last time I wanted to publish with him I didn't have enough funds, but which first writer ever had?

Day 32

she came over and through a translator asked if I like to wear saree.

When I said I've been considering getting one she went back to her house and brought a big plastic and handed it to me.

I looked at the purples, the blues, the browns with thick orange edges and was tongue tied. She then told me to stand up and she looked me over, then sent her granddaughter back to the house, who brought back a punjabi suit , new and crisp. She asked me to try it on and it fit perfectly. Then she remembered something and went back to her house and came back holding a purse. She removed the pearl necklace and put it on me. She said it was 15 years old.

It was like a scene from those hindi soaps I liked to watch-kyuki and kahaani- where a mother in law dresses up the new daughter in law and hands over some family jewelry. My friend's grandmother might be just slightly younger than my gran, and when she hops on the motor bike, you'd never think she was anyone's gran.

She always tries to feed me this and that whenever I'm around, using my little Malay I tell her about Kenya, she asks about my family and tells me her grand daughter is naughty I should teach her manners and proper English, I laugh and she hands me another glass of some brightly colored sugar drink.

I still don't know how to tie the saree but I'll google it.

When I think about it, I can't help wondering, where our ancestors went different ways.

I got a response from the publishers, they said they will put it on the list since they have a lot of work right now. hmm.

Anyway, a response is better than silence. I still have no computer but my friend is letting me use her's when she's not on it, but it's funny being without my laptop. This is from one of the recent popular Tamil movies.

DAY 31 :)

"After she left, Anita rang Taha  to come over to the house. He came, and brought along a girl with an obtruding burst  which wouldn’t have been so prominent if she had not kept adjusting her left bra strap  every four minutes with her right hand and distracting Anita greatly. She didn’t  get round to asking Taha if there was anything she needed to know, about Julius that is.

Although that wouldn’t have done much good anyway as Taha was completely immersed in the attention the girl was giving to him, being completely oblivious of Anita’s agitation.

Noor biked in shortly after they left through the kitchen door. He was smiling a new smile and holding  a bunch of fresh Jasmine blossoms whose scent diffused into the room to hug and wring out the apprehensive air that had been hanging since Olivia left about two hours before.

“Are those for me Noor?

He laughed and  gave Anita a slight peck on the cheek and was  gone up the flight of stairs before she could even borrow a stem.

He came back down quickly still holding the flowers.

“Where’s she?” He asked expectantly. Sublime Innocence, the novel.

Tomorrow is my deadline to send in the complete manuscript. I have a long stretchy story to tell that goes like this," My computer decided to act up and basically, for the last two weeks this editing business has been moving at the speed of a snail. Microsoft discovered I wasn't using their original O.S and since then, opening a single page takes about half an hour. At this point I'm editing from the gmail text editing option online." But I guess I'll save it, those are the kind of tales I told when I did the column in 04.
I decided to put a stop to it and spent a day at Lowyat Plaza trying to trade in my old laptop for one of those swift new things but turns out my poor mPAQ is worth just as much as a memory stick. That was an insult, especially since this computer has seen me through some very trying times, hehe. So we just looked around for a cheap external hard disk and I've been backing up my things all day, and that's all I can do at this pace.
Anyway, I'm going to the beach this weekend so I have to arrange my affairs to ensure I have a clear mind when I hit the beach with two of my best girls. Hoping there will be many dry afternoons, especially since someone gave me a costume just the right color, just the right size.
I must say it's been a long run, and I have a secret smile just thinking, I've actually written and finished a book, it's just a beginning, I'm not done collecting stories.

Day 30

Last evening, I looked at the remaining 10 pages and felt weak, I had to finish them. So I asked my friend please, can I give you five pages and she said K.I was wondering why I didn't ask before, but it has to do with the fact that I've been doing a lot of rephrasing and re-arranging and cancelling entire full pages with the last pages I typed so I sort of wanted to do it, edit it, proof it then give it to someone to read.

My friend typed 3 pages and felt sleepy but she left notes with ideas of what I should remove and add. You can imagine my relief when I typed the last page and looking back I realised, ah, that was a nice story and I like the ending too.

 I'm going to be doing a lot of things away from the house,  the coming weeks, so the raw manuscript will have to remain as it is for now. Maybe I'll pick up  next week.

Thank you for the audience always

Day 29

I have 13 more pages to go. My fingers hurt I wonder why?

The interesting thing is, I had stopped typing coz the story was getting tiring to me.  I’ve heard the voice so many times. Yeah. But I fixed one chapter, and gave it a girl’s voice, it was all about shoes. After that the story was flowing right and I’m looking forward to see what is in the next pages. Funny thing, when people ask me what the story is about I'm not sure what to say. I got like, eh, it's a love story, no wait , there are different characters, and they all meet, no wait, why don't I just give you the book when I'm done?

--------------The oven timer went off and the smell of fresh baking filled the room when Anita opened the door. The vanilla queencakes smelt really good. Anita set them on a large tray, the red and white tea cloth made the cupcakes look so delicious, like you would see in cook books. She set a sufuria on the gas stove, threw in cardamoms and sprinkled in some tea masala. The water started to boil. She then threw in tea leaves and poured in milk, set two cups on the kitchen block and strained the tea into the cups.

The fragrant tea reminded Noor of his visit to Eastleigh town in Nairobi. The Somali style restaurant, Al Kwother served a good cup of cardamom tea.

“Go on,” Anita said, sipping her tea.

“Where do you keep the sugar?” He asked, standing up.

“Pole, I don’t take sugar in mine so I never remember to serve sugar.”

“It’s alright, my mother doesn’t take any too. I’ve been trying to take less but it’s no use, I love sugar.”

Anita laughed and got up to hand him a sugar dish along with two spoons. One for scooping, one for stirring. When she sat, she suddenly stood up, “would you rather have honey, I got some.”

“No, please, I’ll have the sugar. Thanks”-----------------

I spent the day with my friend’s 6 year old daughter and I have a lot of Chinese in my head, I’m listening to some Chinese tunes now but can't upload them, so let's listen to Lemon. I love this poem.