embracing vulnerability- Phase 1

Few days ago I had a full minute of clear vision where it occurred to me in such distinct clarity that I am no longer a child needing to please every breathing thing on a 10,000km radius. I have grown into a human being that actually can make decisions and stick by them regardless of who thinks it's another mad idea. Grieving clears vision.

 It's when you are feeling lost and when your bottom falls that you know exactly who matters. And it's mostly people who call you up and immediately tell you they are coming over coz you are you sure you are okay? And sit with you listening to winding tales of- how you feel like you never catch a break- but they remind you that you have actually caught many breaks in your life, it's just that now they fade in the magnitude of the floods of feelings that overwhelm you but once all is over you will be okay but it's okay cry if you want to. And what do you mean you ate a banana this morning!!!!

Gosh I fear such punctuation, it send me right out of the house for groceries. And go to sleep now, Cecilia you need to be alert tomorrow.
People who remind you that life is not as we expect it to be  but it's no reason not to eat good food, go out dancing and wear a mini skirt if that's what you want to wear.
And then I gave up the fear of letting to. The fear of the unknown. The fear of the 1001 unmade decisions and what ifs that would be affected by that one decision you haven't made.
I crumbled. I think.

no complications

 
I want to love
Not like our perfectionist working class parents
But like our primary school drop out cousins to our mothers
who gently cared and cheered us on,
Who dabbed our tear stained cheeks with warmed face towels
 as they sang nursery rhymes in their language.

I want to love,
not like our sophisticated older sisters
but like our class seven classmates from a small town
They shared their combs and brushes took us out of homesickness
listened to our heartbreak and gave comfort

I want to love
Not like the mean spirited sod I've been
I guess I want to love unselfishly
I guess I can love with less emotion
to be depended upon and not run away at will.

 

A GRIEVING MANUAL FOR KYUKS

Because I am Ngugi wa Thiong’o or I have become Chinua Achebe? Or maybe I have risen in ranks to become the millennial version of Barbara Kimenye without knowing.

On further deep retrospect and many days of self appraisal, I have come to a conclusion that no one should be expected to write a grieving manual. Not for Kyuks, nor for Germans. Just leave grieve alone and let everybody do as they wish. If anyone needs help let them speak to a psychiatrist or to their local priest.

If that is not enough, run along and read this post by BikoZulu. It’s the closest one can get to understanding how Kuyks grieve and why I initially thought I could create a manual for them and weeks upon weeks as I watered the plants, played with the cat, crushed garlic to sooth the never ending 2018 flu, the story ran through my mind in different angles. 

I had my bullet points, a.k.a vidokezo below. But like in school when the Kiswahili teacher would go round the room checking each one’s insha paper to see that you spent five minutes writing down, vidokezo, the story died before it began.

1. Acknowledge the sorrow death brings with it.

2. Allow yourself to grief, stoicism is overrated, Jesus wept. 

3.Sit down and stop planning the tea, cabbage, mikate, mukimo.

4.Why do you need to dig up those old pictures of when I was a girl with snot in my face, scan them and create a brochure?

5. Give comfort to those who mourn, stop telling them wiyumiririe, wiyumiririe kitu gani. I want to roll on the floor and loose my decency if that will get the sad out of my chest.

 oh and No.6. No one owns grief. If I'm sobbing at my neighbour's cousin's funeral, let me be. 

So for now I don’t have anything. The task was too huge. Let me be satisfied writing about women and men, plants and cats and once in a while I might get a real brilliant shot of genius and write a how to article.