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?