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