day 16

(the art in us)

I totally forgot today, until I got a 'kind' reminder from one of my faithful readers. My days have once again ran into each other. I spent the afternoon at the 6th Islamic Economic Forum at Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre. I’m not Muslim but I live in a Muslim country. My friend was screening some short documentary films he made in Thailand and had some free passes.
There was art, live music, comedians and I got to talk to one Mohmd, can’t spell his other name and I didn’t write it down. He is an artist who paints with his toes.

I came home and checked my mail to see if the publishers replied, not yet. But, I got news from Robert, he’s translating one story to Swahili, he finished it, and will be sending it for me to have a look. :)

I also was thinking about my old journals, whether to get rid of them or read through them first. I tore off the cover from one to use it in one of my poetry books. So I am not sure, the journals have some deep stuff which could be turned into a novel, but on the other hand the very reason that I had those thoughts written down and not spoken might mean they are not really meant for public. Maybe I should concentrate on typing out the rest of the novel in case the publisher wants to read it.

I read a few more chapters of Men are from Mars Women are from Venus in the bus and learnt that- the secret of empowering a man is never to try to change him or improve him- aha ha. My point exactly.

I have a list of undone things, I'll see how I manage before the weekend. My housemate vanished and it's not funny staying alone. Well, unless it's your house and you're a single person, or a widow/er , but then the house would be small and you might have  a pet....
I've been feeding the two birds that live under the tiles. Not feeding, more like leaving scraps for them . I left them pear pieces and some snack from an Indian shop. They were making a lot of noise this morning standing by the food but it doesn't seem touched. Maybe they don't like that kind of food. And i find myself  wishing I was an old lady with 5 cats and a parrot.

DAY 15- click send

I woke up annoyed and disturbed. It was too hot last night and I kept waking up to turn on the air conditioner higher and lower, to open the doors then close and other similar night activities.

So as I made tea and thought about my life I realised I need to change my perspective. I need to work harder. I need to be more courageous. I need to do something to assist others instead of waiting for people to assist me all the time.
I Lack fire. I’m going to get fired up.

I will do my work. I will finish things I need to finish. I will do things a little more faster. I don’t have to worry about being out in the street. Jehovah hasn’t let that happen, why should I worry now.
I will write more. It is the only thing I have passion for, the only thing I can do everyday.

I also realized that I need to love more. I don’t love enough. Yeah, it hit me right in the face. I am afraid of being hurt and disappointed and ‘losing myself.’ So I will love more, starting with the ones that surround me. I don’t necessarily mean romantic love. Basic love which everyone practices.
So filled with this new fire. I took out my book queries and stories and read them over. I got out my book of addresses and started to type.

I sent the novel to East African Publishers. I sent one of the children story to Ladybug Malaysia.
There can only be three answers.
Yes, No , Maybe. Let’s see what they give me.
If they don’t reply . I will call them to find out what answer they’ll issue.

Day 14

There is someone that wakes me up at four every morning by banging their door very hard. Usually I just lay and try to go back to sleep with difficulty but today I stayed on. It was very dark. If I knew who it was, we would not tell each other good(I’d give him a piece of mind).

I typed the query to the editor, a synopsis, and table of contents. I went through it a couple of times and it felt ready to be sent.  So I composed an e-mail and sent.

To my cousin. If you know my cousin this is as good as sending to some guy in specs at a publishing company. When I finished highschool and was very sensitive and conscious with my looks, it was my cousin who told me- You can never be a model, you don’t have any boobs. What followed was pure circus, a few had dropped jaws, others were waiting to see what would burst (what would happen)in the room, I was swirling, insulting and threatening. My uncle lit a cigarette and went to dig a hole behind the house.

He was right anyway,  so sending my manuscript to him was the bravest thing I did all week. He’ll probably look at it and ask me-why don’t I concentrate on writing love poems?

I also sent it to my friend Estah, because she likes a good story and will correct me. She told me the names are not all that so I need to find  good names for a novel.  

I did not meet the deadline, but I’m happy I have the query, the synopsis, chapters 1,2 and 3 and a  scope of how long the rest might take to type.

In  a sense, I did beat the deadline since I am just waiting for the critics then I can forward the e-mail to EAP.

This morning I remembered something about my first language. It reads this way  B C D E G H I J K M N O R T U W Y The vowels are a e i o u ĩ ũ , and we have syllables like nga, ngwa, twi, ng’e  ng’we, ndwa, ng’u. I was trying to spell the greeting – wĩmwega, are you fine? To a European, it was like me trying to write Tamil.

I will send the manuscript  this week, when I have  no doubt that I’ve done my best to present  myself well.

What I don’t understand is their asking for a picture. I remember the last time I did some freelance.   Meeting my boss in person cost me my job, somehow. He didn’t think someone my age should write a society column. As if we don’t have google to tell us everything. So I’m not happy about being asked for my picture, what does my picture got to do with anything? I don’t even have one decent picture to send to publishers, They should say what type of posture, not just passport size, I’m not applying for and accounting job

 I'm considering sending them these.

  pictures can bring long stories, you might now hear them asking for  a chromosome test based on the pictures. That will be the end  my career.

day 13- The clock is ticking.

Wohoo! When the alarm went off this morning, every part of my body was paining. I’ve been taking too many stairs, typing too many words and my nerves have been on edge all week. The whole night I was trying to think how to connect chapter two to three. So feeling frustrated last night, I just typed what I said to myself would be the ending of chapter three.
I woke up and read the last chapter and that got me right up. I gave myself a part on my back for that. It’s been years and I have forgotten how the story ends. I am glad I decided to type it out myself because as I type, I’m getting new ideas and pulling out things that don’t feel up to date. When I finished I typed it out and this man asked if he could read when I said it was a story. He read and said- nice, I feel like I’m reading a novel, he said and I gave him the link to my blog.
Pease don’t ask me why I’ve waited this long to decide on the publishing house to send the manuscript to. I have three alternatives.
East African Publishers (I sent them short stories before but they were interested in a novel. I like the idea of having a book published by them because they have published one of my favourite writers, Barbara Kimenye. Although it could be the logo they put on the back cover. I’d like to have that on my novel.
Macmillian. I was going to send to them but I’m wondering what if they make it into a –Trend setter- the trendsetter books are good but the paper yellows with time. And Also every time I think Macmillian I think of school text books, Malkit Singh type of books.
Story moja, I already sent them a children story. I am not sure about them, I have a feeling they look for a particular kind of writing.
So we try East African Publishers.
I haven’t typed the query, now that the date is actually here, I wish for time to drag a bit, like right now I’m listening to Colbie Caillat. Earlier on I went to sit by the lake and throw stones inside. It doesn’t sound nice like when you throw a stone into a dam. But when you throw it a bit further away it makes nice ringed vibrations.
I will let you know how the send off goes. I’m anxious and worried about typos but that again is an excuse. I will look over chapter two and three again just to make sure.

Today I confirmed that I don't like speaking on the phone. Usually I need to think about something, and on the phone there isn't much chance for that so it annoys me. I am a texter.
 I'll sleep now, this week I've done things that would normally take me two months to finish. You get the picture .

The lake

Day 12

I was feeling a bit mixed up today after standing in the bus for a long time. I went to sit in a park next to a lake and had a nice thought.

I will fight you life,
Not with arms and fists and deception,
But with every tear, and every brain cell.


Every nerve in my body is strained, and I'm blinking with sleep, but it's a dozen days and I need to report.
I have some good news for you. I showed one of the children story to my friend's ten year old(he's an accomplished violinist) I was not very confident about giving it to him, he can be blunt, like most children are, and after reading for a while he came to me and asked
- why does the bee have a wig?-
Haha, A typo, which I quickly corrected.
As I was leaving, he came to me and said.

-You want to sell this right?-
I nodded and he said
- I'll design the cover-

The images I had in my mind went like this: an African Writer, a Chinese Cover Designer, an Indian Illustrator.
To complete the math, I was wondering is any of you out there from the Middle East, Europe, Australia,Oceania, USA, Antarctica? It would add a nice touch if,I had reviewers from different parts of the globe.

Another good news is chapter one of the novel is complete now. I re-arranged the words and paragraphs and gave someone to read. It does sound better now I must say.


Side note, the short haiku doesn't sound quite right but what I mean is, I will give life a fair fight, I won't just give up, give in. I will stand up and face it up squarely.

Day 11

There is nothing hard as writing a query , I found out last night. I copied some sample queries and was trying to structure them in my own words. I wrote three. One for the novel and two for a short story to two publishers. One in Malaysia and another in Kenya. I’m thinking I will also pitch the Swahili translation to other Swahili speaking countries like Oman, just a thought.

Like I promised, I need to have a good report on the 15th. I will beat this.

While I was looking over the novel, I changed some character names and also the arrangement, I must say it sounds a little better even to myself. I had this thought, Here I am talking and talking about publishing. If an interested publisher said to me hey you, can I have a look at your things? I would start to run around looking for my novel parts which are in various locations in my computer . and the chance might never come again. Like when I got a chance to speak to one Editor of the Saturday Standard, In Kenya. I must say it was embarrassing. I was near their building one morning when I decided to go in to their offices. I didn’t actually think I’d get to see him in person so it was just me and my words. I didn’t even have an idea which section I wanted to write. That’s embarrassing, I shouldn’t even be saying it . But it’s been 5 years so that’s history. I’m learning from it.

So along with sending one manuscript out this week, I will get organized.
The other thing is I realized that self publishing is not going to work. I don’t have any money so that is just one of those hopes and dreams . I will put that aside and concentrate on trimming and beautifying what I already have. If the publishers say no, then I guess I will just keep writing and maybe one rainy afternoon my children(If I don’t get published I’ll probably just go on and find a husband and start a family) will find my papers in an old file in the storeroom and say to me :Gathoni, you didn’t say you write? (they’ll call me Gathoni when they see the name on the manuscript. Or maybe they’ll call me Gathoni all the time because they won’t take me seriously enough to call me mother)And maybe they will want to use them for their school compositions since they won’t have an imagination , I figure they will want to be accountants and other such serious things-

I’ve been reading a bit, doing plenty of research too, there is something about reading that (I wanted to say, that improves the thoughts and viewpoints but I think this is not yet proven and ‘improve’ to me is a different interpretation :D) Let’s just say reading is good for all of us.
So this season I’m running. My aunt(tata) would tell me when I asked why she was always running here and there. ‘ũgateng’erio nĩ maku. To mean, your own affairs will make you run.

Day 10 came too soon.
But, I wrote four out of the 5 articles to save my life. Now I wait to see if anything gives birth(comes out of the hard work)
I edited chapter one of the novel, rearranged everything and today I’m taking it for a second opinion before I send to a publisher. I’ve realized I’m not as good as I thought in making story openings, but I know someone who can tell me right out what she thinks.
I’ve read a third of Anne of Green Gables and have completely abandoned Venus and Mars but will be getting back to it as soon as I take care of other responsibilities.
I also printed out some of the children stories, and planning to place them with some kids to get an opinion. I got a response form my friend who is a school teacher, she says there is a market for children’s books as long as they are colourful and cheap.(I should get the black and white concept out of my mind).

On other matters, this week I appreciate my mother. It is a pity that it took me this long. But I guess that’s another good thing to come out of this journey ‘to find myself.’ In all my years of basic education, primary and education, I never once got sent away from school because of fees balance. My mother did a cleaning job and every month sent granny my keep. At that time I always thought- she ought to, she’s my parent.

I never knew how it felt to be kicked out class, or be told in front of people- you owe the school, or be threatened that you’ll miss your exams, in this case, have your visa canceled. Now I know the feeling so well. I understand the sacrifices my mother made.

When my books are published, I hope she can take a break from her cleaning job to visit, London, Japan and Bangkok-her favourite places.

Day 9

I’ve been struggling with this since 7p.m, it’s now half past ten., I don’t feel like there’s much to report.
My associate, Lluvia, who is sketching illustrations for the stories will bring them tomorrow. I’m looking forward to looking at them. I also rearranged one of the stories, which I already sent to Story Moja for consideration. My friend suggested I make a better opening. So I think I’ll translate this version and pitch it either to the same publisher or another.
Thing is, I’ve done a lot of mouth work. Telling all my friends with young children that my books are coming out soon, and they all say, yes we shall buy. Actually, when I tell people I’m going to publish books they say- oh really, we’re waiting. And I know some who have been waiting very long.
Last night I did some serious work. I opened a Paypal account to facilitate the online publishing idea. Spent the entire evening squinting at the screen trying to find out where the code is. I still don’t know how to get the code. If anyone knows, do tell, the instructions on their website didn’t help me.
Three years ago when I was ready to publish, I had three sponsors. I still owe one his share. I refunded the others when the publisher asked for more than he had asked initially. My friend Ken put in the sketches and background and designed so many covers according to my whim. To this day I still feel, what a delay, this book should be out in print.
I just need to get away from my day dreams for two weeks and I’ll have something tangible. That’s why I have this blog. This is my watchman. I’m also cooking, to help me to concentrate. Well, at least that’s what I hope it will accomplish. I think of what to combine and then stand there and wait for the food to cook. The days of burning food to a crisp are fading into the past. So today I made a potatoes and a sardine curry, it turned out better than I thought even though I forgot to add garlic and lemon as I had planned to and nothing burned.

Day 8

I would like to go for a coffee with an artist. We’d talk about the structures, the waiters and make up stories about the people next table. Then we’d meet a year later and pick up from where we left.

This morning I was thinking about one time I visited an artist’s house. There were paintings and montages , sculptures and music. I drunk the coffee offered and looked around feeling quite happy.

Out of the 6 lists I made of things to do last week, I ticked off 35 of them. That’s something. I know I run around aimlessly panicking and running out of breath, but at the end of the day things get done.

So this week I have a different list.
1. Collect together the first three chapters of my novel,
write an introduction letter and send to the publishers by
15th March.I mean May.
2. Make inquiries to online publishing organizations.
3. Write the so said 5 articles to save my life
(Will tell more about this in future).

Please remind me if I forget. This is not the first time I've had a deadline . The only difference is this time, whether I do this or not will determine what my life will be like in a few months.

I’ll make myself a dress with the material that remained after making the therapy bags. Yes I got paid for them, and bought airtime to call home later tonight.

Day 7

Aren’t they just cute!
I hope their owners will think the same. I completed them this morning, took me exactly one week.
Last night was short, I didn’t write for many reasons and excuses. I got home and every part of my body was aching. So bad the sewing I did went all wrong because I was so sleepy and I had to re-do it this morning.

Most of today was spent Googling publishers and connections. I can’t say I’ve accomplished much. Been Trying to find an illustrator I worked with three years ago, he worked for Mountain Top Publishers, but all I can remember was his phrase-shika hadithi, although I’m not sure, it might have been kamata hadithi. The reason is, the company published children’s stories, so I could ask him something to that effect.
The other option is to publish online. I’m warming up to the idea. Let me Google some more to get comfortable.
Somehow I feel disappointed with myself, I think it comes from living alone. It gets to you.
I tried attracting some birds to feed at my balcony, two started coming and then I thought- I’m only in this house for a few weeks. So when they came today I just looked at them and I felt more lonely than ever.
There was an article I was writing , about beauty cosmetics for a beauty magazine called Extravaganza. It didn’t add up.
This week has been extremely exhausting and with the authorities threatening to deport me each day; it’s no wonder I feel blank and blur.
Also, my design project is not making me feel happy at all. I showed the designs to Lewis-he’s a system’s admin and he said-Let me work on them this weekend, yeah, don’t trouble your little head-
I drunk a ginger ale yesterday, the first one in Malaysia and it was a total fail. Tasted like something you drink from a bowl. I miss the Kenyan one. Reason why I mention this is because every other drink I’ve tried got me hooked. Here’s a first I never want to try again.

Day 6

I took these pictures on my way home after watching some men using stones and sticks to catch fish in a drain. It was interesting to watch. Then I saw these pools on
the grass and they reminded me of childhood. We'd never get these in my grannys' farm, but in her friend's farm , when it rained, the fields would have these and uncle Kamande would take me to fish for tadpoles,and wade in the water. It was very exciting.
Today will be a short one. I lost a friend last week, she was buried today. I didn’t attend the funeral. The hang ups of being away from home.
Pretty sad, she left a sweet little boy. But we are not without hope.
I got a response for my short story this morning. Not a very good one. My opening was not catchy enough, and my character was not well described. Any ‘not good enough’ report floors me for a few hours, so I was sulking for most of the day. I went and borrowed Anne of Green Gables in a addition to what I’ve been reading- Men are from Mars, women are from Venus. May be I’ll be more imaginative after reading Anne, the second movie was excellent, and from the few chapters I read today, the book is just as good.
I started a story about little ordinary stones, but I got lost in the middle when I saw someone looking over my head to read it.
The story I sent in for editing was also returned, and my friend says it’s a nice story but bees don’t drink tea and eat salad. Hmm, is that good or bad? I guess my imagination went a little too far this time.

DAY 5

I almost forgot to write. It’s been a busy day. I’m back to stitching bags for a living, so I’ve been sitting on the floor all day. I also got a proof reading gig and that’s what I’ve been doing this evening, even though it’s like paraphrasing, not easy but good, and if it’ll buy me food for two days, I’ll bring out allt he Longmans and Macmillan’s.
My friend Robert has taken the challenge to help me translate my stories into Swahili, so I sent him one story which I edited(punctuation and word arrangement) last night. I also sent it to Lluvia for the Illustrations. Why didn’t I translate it myself? I tried, but after not speaking Swahili or even Swanglish for two years, I have forgotten even basic words like what’s color brown in Swahili?
Sewing is calm and relaxing, it’s also a chance for deep thoughts.
I might be full of regrets and worry and wondering- what was I high on when I said yes I’ll go to Malaysia, but now I begin to realize the reason I said yes. Everyday I learn something new about myself I never knew. Like I always thought I was the nicest, most reasonable, likable and kind person in the universe.
Wrong.
I also had the vain idea that I’m clean and neat.
After sharing apartments with different people and personalities. I begin to realize, oh no, I still need a few more years to work on this and that.
If nothing else, Malaysia is a training ground.
After this, I won’t be any richer, younger or prettier.
Hopefully, I’ll be more easy to put up with. Perhaps I’ll stop staring at my own nose all the time.

DAY 4

When I woke up today, the first thing that hit my mind was market. Could be from the fact that I was listening to some old tunes from my village, the same ones you hear when you go to the market. So nothing else was keeping still in my mind because of market. None of my friends were feeling me. When the sun set I set for the market and bought veggies. I got cheated by the onion guy. He weighted my collection when I was notlooking and I’m so sure that was not a kilo, he cheated me in broad daylight. But I had a nice bargain at one stand where two guys were screaming satu ringgit satu ringgit, 1 Ringgit, 1 Ringgit!The normal hawker style. For the sole reason that I asked if they have Timun. Timun is cucumber. They stopped screaming for a while to ask me how come I can say Timun. They would have packed everything for me free and waved goodbye with open mouths.
Literary wise, my friend Tlotlego says she can proof read the story I typed the other day. And she ought to, I named one of the characters after her- wait until she finds out.
Last night I slept late doing research on an article. It’s a challenge which will help my brain expand a little and hopefully squeeze out some creative juice.

I found out something interesting concerning left handed people. Did you now that light bulbs, screws, scissors, table drawers, pocket shirts and even kitchen knives are all to the advantage of right handed people?

I wish we were colonized by the Chinese. Imagine falling in love in Chinese. Wo ai ni.
In Kikuyu, O, ai, niÎ? Aca.

Day 3

I just finished typing the story I wrote on Sunday for a children’s book. It’s not proof read or punctuated, that will come later. Typing it out is always the harder part.
The idea is to type them all out and edit later. I’m not putting any deadlines on this one, but I have a goal in mind. The publisher got back to me, said he will read my e-mail, so I’m waiting. My agent is not very enthusiastic but I’m sure he’ll come through at some point.
I’m I a fool for trying to publish? Earn a living from writing stories? Maybe. Story tellers have to be a bit foolish in the mind to make stories happen. Maybe not. I’ve not pushed this hard before, it’s worth a try, and I’ll have nothing to lose.
I know my mistakes;
1. I can be very lazy. I have very many half length stories
2. I get distracted easily
3. Sometimes I cannot control the thoughts running across my
mind like two toddlers high on sugar
4. I don’t like to proof read my own writing- honestly
5. I’m afraid of criticism. So I hide most of my work form other’s eyes

Day 2

The first call this morning was from school. It was a reminder that they are going to cancel my student Visa and I ‘have to go back wherever.’ I wanted to go right back to bead. But The second call, from Sharon,(Sharon represents Gary’s family from England) she wanted me to go over for dinner. I said yes right away. She makes the best lasagna. I was staring at my notebook to write things to do, but couldn’t figure out what to do when I received a text from Taha(Taha is from Yemen, we go back a long way and whenever I’m in trouble he says, don’t worry, I help you.) And that’s what he did. I told him my Visa situation. He took the buses-4 and came to see me, and he had a solution.
So now I need to write a letter begging them to please not send me back, because I don’t even have money for a ticket and I doubt I can hitch a ride from the boats.
My reasons:
1. I’m a good student, yes I am, I enjoy my course and stopping now will
be a neat blow across my face.
2. I’m a published writer. They can publish me and use the money for my
fees.I was published straight from high school, I’ve got better with
time.I just need the papers and I’ll be out of their face.
3.Honestly, I only came here coz I wish to see my grandmother stop digging .

It makes her knees and ankles and back and eyes pain. And the sun makes her look really old. I hate it. I cannot tell her to stop. If she stops then what? I’m I going to feed her. I can’t even feed myself.

So we went for Sharon’s dinner and had a loud swim after, yeah, it was great and the laughs went right into the bone marrow. At the end of the day, I haven’t written everything creative, but I thought up a poem which I’ll write as soon as my mind settles.
Yesterday I typed one chapter of my new children’s story. That’s counts.
I’ll take 8 buses to school and back tomorrow. That is enough creative time.

The first day of 6 months.

DAY 1.

I’m currently living in uncertainty. I might as well be a vagabond .
To change my situation, I’ll finish one thing
For the next 6 months. I will try to get my books published.
If by the end of the 6 months nothing has happened towards my goal, I’ll try again.
What do I have today:
1. A complete novel
2. 3 complete Poetry Collections
3. 3 children stories
4. Life from my creator

What I don’t have.
1. Most of it still needs to be typed
2. Money to pay the illustrators, the designers



What I need:
1. An audience to urge me on
2. Ideas



Let’s do this.

Cecilia Gathoni, my granny ,My Hero

According to her, she was born in 1942. 15 years later,
she married the cool 17 year old Munyeki, whose untiring pleads for her hand in
marriage finally bore fruits. My grandmother. A forceful ,one woman symbol of strength.
Munyeki died early, at the age of 38. My grandmother was heart broken but she was determined to go on with life. Her selflessness and daring power in her heart helped her go through the crisis . Her eager children, 7 in number acquired a fearlessness to face any situation.
A forceful trait that has been passed on to my generation.
On any day,I just need to hear her voice or think about her and anything seems possible.

I wrote this for a timed English proficiency test

I had a strange thought yesterday.
Not the one about potatoes and not about my secret desire to go and live in Hargeisa. Stranger.
It snuck up on me as I was getting ready for my Wednesday meeting. Just after I wet my hair to make it manageable.
I looked into the mirror to see if that was my thought.
It was, installed in my mind but moving deeper into the tendons.
I wanted to open it, explore it, see if it was a serious thought or just one of the many passing thoughts which sometimes will turn into a story.
Others, when said aloud reconfirm my- travels along my own orbit- to whoever heard it. Sometimes, it’s a serious one hat reminds me of my values my goals and responsibility kind of thought, rare though. On ordinary days, the thoughts are simply an in built entertainment system and are not to be taken seriously.
So this thought, not falling into either of the usual categories worried me, a little.
It was like a headmaster who came in and said- hey watch it and didn’t say what why.
It wasn’t a warning thought. It was more like and idea, a suggestion, a dare.
Then it left, leaving me wondering- should I shouldn’t I?
Now it’s gone and I’m not sure where to follow it or wait for it to come back. With a challenge, with persuasion, or with disappointment that I never asked questions.

a poem

Trickle, trickle,

Trickle the raindrops,

Trickling down to fill up a stream.

Trickle, trickle a big river runs,

From the mountains down the desert,

Trickle, trickle down the river.

Falling leaves and small bugs join up,

Into the river and wave goodbye,

Ready for a ride.

Inside the trickling river that sparkles,

Curve and bend, when a ridge emerges,

Small bumps and swirls to greet the bridge,

Hold your breath, here comes the fall,

Sigh then scream we made it fine.

Trickle, trickle down the big river,

Bless the trees the dark clouds too,

Here at last, our mother sits,

She’s waving and cooing ,

To the stream that came home,

To the bit ocean let’s now run.

picture courtesy of www. kaichang.net

Life expectances

I’m 25 this year. That makes my childhood playmates- SG and SN - 30. That’s really old. That was my uncle’s age a few years ago and I thought- this guy is age mates with Noah.

When I was 16 and knew everything, I thought at 23 I’d have progressed to speaking bulleted points with every word that came out of my mouth.

A 22, I had my doubts and eventually I realised that I was a blithering idiot.

I also thought at 24 I’d know things, like how to deal with people, keep a job, cook properly. I still cannot, so maybe push the goal to 28?

One thing I can confidently say I am capable of handling is money. It becomes quite easy when you mainly deal in coins. For things like rent and bills and rent I think you just pray.

25 is a great year I must say. I’ve promised myself years of beauty sleep seeing as I expect wrinkles to start showing anytime, but I have a few things to settle.

Like the admission that I am not as smart in the head as I’ve always presumed, so there’s nothing to be proud of and I have to open my mind to learn new things and to accept correction, like when I say hotel when I mean restaurant because in my mind it’s hotel for restaurant and big hotel for hotel.

I’ve also been able to determine that I can only do a bit each day, so I’ll have no pain killing myself with putting up pictures on google earth to show the world where Nanyuki is, someone else will do it.

Also no point in trying to learn Tamil and Chinese alphabets when I’m still struggling with Bahasa Malay, and even if I don’t perfect Bahasa Malay so what, I never perfected sheng and survived Nairobi with Swaenglish.

But above all, I’ve learnt that the basic human has a cord which anyone can reach if they try hard enough. So it’s not weakness in my part to apply persistence with humility because on sticking that cord, impending doors can easily open.

My face will soon turn leathery, and my teeth fillings and masking will fall out.

Last year I pointed out to my friend that I really felt like I had matured in to an adult. After a nice laugh he said- I don’t think so-

This took me back.

Then he said

-You could say you’ve grown more into a woman but grown up? Artists don’t grow up-.

So that’s it, perpetual childlike existence. Every day.

This world is a huge place for just that

(picture by Aobakwe Moeti)

by the look of things, a poem

Truth be said

I’m happy

I’ve got a bubbling joy

A laugh that churns

Inside of me and vibrates.

Truth be said

I’m not longer confused

Or undecided and unsure

I’ve got a voice

Enough to make a point

And be acknowledged,

If necessary,

And acknowledge others,

If necessary.

And not be pushed around.

Truth be said

The years cannot compare

With the joy of true knowledge

That gives purpose and hope

A friendship with the highest force

With a promise.

Truth be said

This life is not all

And truth be said this life is not all that

If firm we stand

Retain the faith

There’ll be another chance.

Truth be told

The best is yet to come.

(pictures from flicker through google)

poem

the age of innocence is past
the era of shame recedes
daring, unabashed,
the human race marches forth
completely unperturbed
as though masters.
yes, but masters of fading glory.









(10-02-10, was thinking of something deep, can't remember what now)

poem

We sat beside each other

Staring at the excited fire

The smell of the sea

The cry of the old crows.

We sat and breathed in unison

As waves crushed against the reefs

As the fishermen let out their boats

We linked fingers and watched the stars.

And a snaked slithered by quick

And the fire was burning out

We were getting drowsy

While the moon floated further east

While the stars dimmed and faded out

You turned and touched my face

I wiped the wetness under your eye

The night was running out

Your voice was shaky

I didn’t dare speak.

(haven’t decided on the last line yet.)

28^th June 2008

Note: I saw a cute boy, looking like a model without even trying, wished he was my bro.

I am a Cushite

A few weeks ago, we had a Kenyan hip hop artist come to Limkokwing.

I had planned to go home right away that day because I brought my laptop to school and it’s about 10.5 kilos so it’s not fun moving around with it but, since I was three news articles short, I decided to hang around and see if I could get a story.

One girl came up to me and asked- where are you from?
I said Kenya, and she said, oh, really?
I managed to get a few shorts and the tour guide said- group photo everyone. I got a spot right behind the superstar.
The following day I was with my friends and opened the site to proudly show them the picture since they didn’t attend the big event, and they are in film class so they prefer make believe, and I don’t think the artist gets air play in their country.
The group picture was there alright, but I wasn’t.
Haiya, They photoshoped me out .
I wonder why? One of them said
Maybe they didn’t like your two finger peace sign. Hahaha.
That’s what you get for telling people you’re from Frances Town.
So that was it. The news was-Kenyan fans welcome artist-
I always have to answer questions like these.

Where are you from.
Kenya .
Really?
Yes.
What tribe?
That’s when I say, no actually I’m from Northern Sudan.
Which is true anyway, that’s what they told me I History class,something like that.

Other times I have people speaking to me in Setswana and pidgin English.

In Kenya, people called me-shumari-(somali).
One time, in Mitero primary school, there was a new teacher and he was gonna beat me for-putting chemical in my hair-.

It’s all cool. I don’t mind for being mistaken as a Fulani from Nigeria, or a Kalanga from Botswana.

The other day someone told me hey , how come you’re growing so thin? And I happily replied, no I haven’t changed, you’ve just grown fat. I have to say I felt all good inside because finally, I’m no longer offended when someone comments on how thin I am.