Nightmares

Before I moved to the farm, I read a few survival articles and one mentioned that to live in such a territory one requires to have mental and emotional stability.

            For a long time my mental state has been dependent on the occasion at hand and somehow I’ve managed to ‘manage’. My ultimate test came this week. I came back home from an assignment and was emotional, well I’d say I still need time to find a balance. I was met by somber feeling at home. We’ve had quite a number of deaths in the family so my hair was on its end before I put down my luggage. Uncle gave me a brisk reply to my greeting and aunt was saying something about a sick cow. The week before one of the heifers had had a miscarriage so I thought it probably was having complications.

            It was an unpleasant shock to find my favorite heifer, the pack leader looking as though ran over by a tractor. It had received an injection and with its pregnancy, it looked very fatigued.

That cow is as I said the leader of the others. It is happy and feels good most of the time. It likes to run with its tail up and hind legs flying, skipping at a breakneck speed you’d think it’s a horse from far. Any cow that does not follow its instructions – to walk behind it always – gets lifted high up and thrown over a fence.

            Seeing her down made me feel so bad. I spent the day trying to feed it baby Corn. The second day the water broke and we waited for the birth but the poor animal was to weak.
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Hours later, nothing had happened and she was obvious in a lot of pain. I held the torch and gritted my teeth. My legs turned into steamed spinach, I sat and closed my eyes tightly, but the tears kept coming, my cousin came from his night tours. I called him to hold the torch and I escaped. But they finished pulling and I went back to see.

It’s breathing.

No it’s not, it’s dead.

The mother looked tired and wasted, but a bit teary eyed. The dead calf was a beautiful freshian, long with big patches of white. I really needed to sleep. The following day I was cranky and kept snapping at people, especially when one of my one week old chick fell into a sufuria of water and died.

The cow was feeling better, eating a bit, but its fur was falling out. We sat and talked about other things drinking cupfuls of tea. At the back of our minds, each of us praying that the poor heifer will get back in shape to head the heard.

            Emotionally, I sat in the kitchen all day to avoid seeing the dead calf being butchered to be fed to Tom and Tusker.

There a story for another day, about vets who should  be fired .

ah, the beauty.

 I heard them say something in the news today, that Kenya produces the best coffee in the world but it's farmers are the poorest.

They said it  due to bad governance and politics e.t.c. I remembered one time in a foreign land, they were chatting about their countries, Canada and Australia. Then someone turned to me and asked, laughing, so what is there in Kenya? I asked, do you really want to know, ut he had already turned his attention to the Korean, I saved it for a future use.

 I had heard that question before, they asked-what is good in Kenya. I said we have maize, and fruits, we have food. They laughed and turned back to their conversation about the new mall just opened where noodles were quite cheap.

And as I walk about this land, I'm happy that  this is a well kept secret. Let them imagine huts and animals, lions and naked children, which they see on their screen in their concrete jungles.


I sent my manuscript , the novel and a children's story to another publisher  two weeks ago but haven't got a reply. Meanwhile, I'm writing financial articles.

Old Dog New Tricks, aa

There’s the cartoon on facebook  that illustrates the types of friends, I think I have all the types sketched; crazy ones, cool ones, young ones, big ones,  ambitious ones, sad ones…

I had a funny meeting with one of my friends; we’ll call him the ambitious one who goes by the book. He studied, got a university education with honors, got a house, furnished it with everything new, maintains a good job and a good shave, has friends and keeps up with the times, is responsible. E.T.C

So I guess he had told his friends that his buddy returned from Malaysia, come let us see and hear progress. When I went over, I totally could see the look of disappointment. Google Malaysia  fashion. Yes, that is probably  what they expected, but  here I was in the midst of them with some stripped hippie cardigan , a gypsy skirt and canvas lace ups.

They gave me a look over and they said to themselves, ai, this one has never seen the inside of a train leave alone a plane.

 Next I had to answer the usual questions: So we hear  that Malaysia is way ahead of us

Me: In what way.

Them: In all ways, I mean technologically, you cannot compare Kenya with    majuu(overseas)

Me:It depends on which angle you look at it, like how many local T.V stations  do we have?

Them: Aaa, not  that way, T.V is nothing, infrastructure is what matters.

Me:  Good infrastructure should reduce the cost of living should it not?

Them: But think of the employment rate, in Malaysia 70 % of the locals can find employment. Do you know  what percentage it is here?

Me: A a.

Them: It’s 20%, the rest of us are Jua Kali(Self employed)

Me: Hm, Jua Kali would  mean more freedom right?

Them: Yes there’s freedom but it’s good  when a government can provide employment to its citizens.

Me; Yes I guess. By the way, you know in Malaysia to go to town you pass like three tolls equivalent to about 60bob(60Kenya shillings), and you get taxed in restaurants for coffee and stuff.

Them: Reeeally?

They were justified, I didn’t have an idea what I’m talking about.

I excused myself to leave coz I needed to meet up with another friend who wanted to discuss APA referencing (I had thought I was done with referencing), apparently someone told her I was okay with it so she wanted to talk it over, but she ended up giving me contacts who need some work done, so it was more to my benefit.

After doing several interviews  last week, I realized  that  “papers” which are made to seem very important are not really  that important. I was being interviewed and the interviews didn’t even look at my papers and was ready to mention me to someone. So before I left I asked,  what  do you think of my Singapore story? They asked, which one? So I took out my documents to show and turns out it caught their attention. Have I seen this story before?

I wrote it last night for this interview.

O, okay.

They took my papers but all I was thinking is I need to get back to my rabbits, this is rubbish.

So today I’m editing my novel to send it to another publisher I hear is doing well. I’ll send it and hear what they say as well as one of my children’s  stories.

My friends, the professional lot were not finished with me, they wanted to know exactly what I’m I doing.  Of course there’s something I’m doing I said. They were not convinced and between them, they have been having this idea  that I got pregnant  that’s why I haven’t contacted them, to hide the bump, otherwise what would  I be doing out of Nairobi. Nairobi makes me physically sick, I’ve been here  two days and I have a fever, I said.

Wewe Cecilia una mambo, hujachange(  to mean; Cecilia, you haven’t changed, we still don’t understand you)

But I’m glad I have all these different friends, like tomorrow I’m looking forward to my friends who just celebrate my being me and wouldn’t want to change a single strand of wayward eyebrow.

sometimes I admire men

He Stood out from his peers, not only because he wore an orange sweater while the rest wore green, but his stance, the way he’d walk, the way he firmly looked at you and said a greeting. When I finally beat the morning sleep and managed to obey the alarm, mama(my uncle) said thank you very much,  and put  me in charge of the morning milk delivery. He wakes up at five to milk the cows, and I wake up at a quarter to six, dress in heavy gear, spread a layer of baby oil on my face to protect myself from the biting cold , park a book and my camera, sometimes my phone in a bag and get out before he calls out.

With 9 litres on each side I get out and join the rest of the farmers at the center to wait for the society’s lorry which comes anytime between 6  and 9a.m.

The boy mentioned earlier would  bring his family’s milk and depending on the time the lorry comes, he’d wait until six thirty , take the container home then get his bag and go to school. I asked about him and was told- you see that boy, during the dry season last year he would carry two (12) litre containers of water from the river to water kales, which paid his school fees. He wears a confident smile about him, one that says he’s sure of himself. One eveing he brought a letter home for my grandmother, I asked him to stay for a cup of tea.

 Most boys his age will just sit and quickly  drink the tea feeling awkward but he sat and gave me his opinion about a hundred things. Like he said to me: Imagine someone who has been on the same job for 20 years, he gets retrenched and has to look for work since  he has no skill, just experience, where would he find a job.? Let me tell you,  this world needs a sharp person.” I really liked  that, I estimate he is about 14 but he has an opinion.

Like my 5 year old cousin, who I sometimes don’t want to see but a week far from him and I start to miss him. One day I brought him a bar of chocolate then asked for a taste. He said to me- when you brought this for me all the way from town, it shows you had already had enough- how do you answer to that?

He has a messed up bicycle but that doesn’t stop him from riding it. He tired  it up with some ropes and now charges the neighbour’s kids to ride. The other day he told me he’s tired of  being asked to light kerosene lamps every evening, he wants to  press switches, and he got on to work with some torch batteries and a torch bulb.

36,

The cliché poor artist with his mind set on adventure, confidence vibrating in his every step, he didn’t look through people, he saw them
A free animal will stop to free another from a trap, so Jack stopped, and set Rose free.
As we watched Titanic in black and white, my friend kept asking-does this kind of love exist ? I wasn’t sure. I could not point out to an example but I imagine it is possible. It is alien to our young generation that I’m sure of, with their distorted view trained by Hollywood.
It’s plum blossom season. The dry branches budded, then turned white. In every field now stands what looks like long fluffy cotton stems. Against the moonlight, the soft petals glisten like staged beauty.
When the rabbits stand on their hid legs, when the crazy sheep calms down and gives birth, and with the love of a mother, licks every bit of placenta off her offspring’s wool, the kitten stops spitting at you and the male turkey follows, not to kick this time, but to get a few grains from the one who feeds him and his family.
There is peace in being able to look out as far as the eyes can hold.
You remember what you almost forgot.
A love so intense,
As strong as death is.
My uncle says you may eat as much as you want but if there is a calf crying out, you’ll never add weight. He then pulls up his jacket to bring in some maize stalks for his lame calf.

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.