A Home for the Nomad

 Between chasing the chicken from the outdoor kitchen for the 100th time, sweeping the rice grains now scattered on the floor  while trying to stop my grandmother from eating the raw onion that rolled to her feet when I scattered the chicken, the village gives a body enough activitiy in a day. You do pilates, yoga and zumba all before 10.00 O'clock.

And when you again get to the sink and notice the pile of dirty utensils that has gathered once again, peace is not the feeling that you get.

But amidst the disorder, there is a pulsating energy that carries you on it's shoulders  like a flood current, slower, but all the time moving, moving.

I walk bare footed, all around the rooms, around the compound, up and down the land. the heat  in the earth wraps my feet like therapy, like reassurance  that, I was part of the ground. That I am the daughter of the soil, I was hewn from this earth, and each step grounds me, firmly.

Someone asked me ; why do you move around so much?

I gave her an answer.

But my truth is different, I move around so much because I have never found a place to call home.

Perhaps it's the pastrolists blood coursing in me rendering me restless. Moving with the seasons, and only stopping at one place long enough to exhaust its green grass, and then it's time to move again.

I only recognize one place as home, the one that I grew up on, next to the forest. But I cannot be there, so as long as I am alive, I am a temporary citizen on this earth, with no particular attachment to place, person or tribe.

I am a soul that walks its own path, guided by my own  true North.

Conversations into Adulthood: Dating after 35

When I was past 35, I thought to myself, nothing can move this heart anymore.

And I was fine, happily running the rat race, making connections, finally able to afford some comforts, living in a leafy green neighbourhood with friendly neighbours and shopkeepers, with fat stray dogs and hardly any stray cats.

Then one day I got a dm asking me on a date to discuss a life ever after.

It was exciting, to think that I could actually go out on a date with someone, The last date I had been on was when I was 25, which wasn't even really a date, more like a fishing trip gone bad.

I even went out and bought a little black outfit to wear on the supposed date.

And my heart thumped as I rehearsed  answers to questions I expected to be asked.

I even started daydreaming about future dates and and how I would be telling younger women 'you really don't have to search for a husband, when the time is right the good Lord will provide one.' 

But before the supposed date I decided to ask someone, 'hey by the way, without giving me dirt what can you tell me about huyu mtu wa kwenu?

And mtu wa kwao said, 'well, Cecilia if being fed and clothed is what you are looking for then go for it, but you and I know that you have been feeding and clothing yourself long enough.'

I understood that without the need for subtitles.

In the wellbeing pie chart that includes physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and financial triangles, only one of them was shaded.

And soon enough I would be proved right.

Picture a middle aged woman,  in the middle of the night googling 'What is loving bombing? 'what is ghosting?'

Within two weeks, I had been lovebombed and ghosted, left hang to dry with my little black outfit which would never see the light of day.

And as I tried to understand that kind of behavior I got a better understanding of modern human behaviour.

And so  I choose my peace, I can only accept silent treatment from Che. Not a fully grow up person, hī, ūngīkīgūrūka. You can lose your head.

Good thing is, experience has taught me to turn negative energy to productivity.

And that is how within a month of my heart being wrung out, I published my first book.

Buy my book to read more conversations.

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