The complexities of human communication, but at least we don't meaow

My neighbor says to  me the  other day- I love to cook, but nice food, not  this. She  was frying  some potatoes and cabbage  for  rice. I think I must have been making ugali with something. Do you mean meat? Yeah, a nice  beef  stew with carrots  and garlic.

 I told her I would like to bake a fish, with garlic and white onions. So we laughed, and talked about something else. She is a nice lady, works like the next babyboomer and has no time to rest or relax. So when she came in on Sunday and announced she had watched a movie. This  I wanted to hear. But it  turned out  to  be a Nigerian  movie, and she went on to narrate  to me the  entire story, and I wished I had not looked too interested. I have nothing against Nigerian movies. Just can’t bring myself to watch one that goes to their crying counterparts. The Philippines have taken over. I wish when KTN would screen scrubs, Judging Amy. Until the target market changed I guess.  But I watched a Nigerian movie on YouTube once, Half a Yellow Sun, though I prefer the book.

But it  doesn’t  hurt  to hear  out someone  that  has not  watched  a movie  since  her youth. I guess I always  got  caught  up in stories. Maybe I have a sympathetic face, total strangers  will tell me their  entire life course, but I don’t mind, it  gives  me  material  to  smile  about  when I’m walking  alone.

One time I was in the onion business, don’t tell my mother. I could not muster up the voice to call out- itĩngũrũ fresh! I just showed up, around 11 a.m when people were starting to think about lunch. One woman who obviously had been digging all day under the hot sun told me two stories. One  about a party  she  had been invited to, they served onions and raw carrots.

-It’s no  wonder you young  people  always  have kĩmũrera(pungent  smell from your mouth), and  of course I put  a hand over  my  mouth- My house smelt like onions, my clothes, and  my skin. Just the other time I was cooking and selling maandazi. I would appear and people would start to say they suddenly felt like eating maandazi.

Then she  told me an ogre story, and as  she told it, her eyes darted here and there, as  though  she  expected an ogre jump up out of the pumpkin bush or fall out from the avocado tree.

I once heard someone say he enjoyed watching his aunt and young sister have a chat; No content at all, but they all seem to be having a ball. Well, I’m not sure if  content comprises  of goal oriented conversations or current  events. I’m still learning about human communication.

Last Saturday night

…..I will go  down  with  ship, I won't put  my up my arms and surrender,

There will be no white flag above my door…

That seemed  such a romantic  anthem, a  long  time  ago,  but  you  grow  up and things  happen  and  the  only  true  thing is the current  breath which you  hold  on to. Well,  that  even seems  even  more  romantic, a tragedy, the  despair  that  comes  from  having  nothing  else  to  believe  in but  yourself  and God.

 But then the hard cold reality hits and you are thinking, no. I’m thinking. Oh no, I knew my life   was a tragedy but this? It’s not even book material; this could   make a classic novel. If I were Margret Mitchell or  some other woman  that  wore  long  skirts  and  socks  with  her  shoes.

I  want to  make resolutions, oaths  and  vows but  searching deeper the  best  I  can  do  is  to be determined to have  a very  strong   will. If  I  lived  in that  era, I would  be one  of  those  stoic  widows,  spinsters,, haha and  now  I’m  laughing, meaning this  blog  post has served  its purpose. To lift  my  spirits, and basically  that is all I plan to  do; things that I love  to  do, accomplish little goals, enhance  my  friendships  and relationships, and take  time out to meditate. 

Not hummm…clear  you  mind and think  of  a peaceful beach…the one that I just  sit  and chomp down a long piece  of  sugar cane  and  count the  number of  insects and  bugs that try  to  navigate  my  toes.

But  it serves to  mention  that  I am  scared  out  of  my  wits.

Kitchen lab

This is how it begins. A test to know if I can update my blog using my phone.

Why people block emails, why others change phone numbers

It could be  the unwritten blogs

The unfinished poetry,

The pieces of cloth cut but never made

The table mat, skirt or wall hanging.

Or it could be the worry about my aging relative

Who will no longer give me advice like-

How I should respect my aunties for my own good-

Or it could be the realization that haiya,

I’ve accomplished quite a number of things like

defining clear priorities and sticking to them

Like looking at possibilities and having intuition “tell me”

This is not a worthwhile pursuit

And it turns out not to be.

The knowledge that apologies don’t take

An inch off you

And cutting links with certain company is actually good for the

Mind.

That emotional abuse is real

And one does not have to put up with it.

That veggies are very Important,

Clean fresh water to drink

And that sometimes

the top is an inverted pyramid.

throwing out my efforts at extrovertism to the dogs

One day in the days of my teenage hood, my cousin and I were walking to an aunt’s house. So he turns to me and says
- I’m ready to have a good time, but your problem is the minute we reach the party you will want to go back home. Seriously Gathoni, you are difficult, and we now sometimes you don’t even want to see any of us-

I may have given a grunt, or a giggle, I don’t remember. But I was always hearing how I should not isolate myself.  I would jump at the option to take the cows out to graze; cows don’t ask questions like why are you bored, or smiling to yourself.

I can’t count the many times I have opted out of a party, and the many times I have not been asked co they knew I would say, 'no thanks.'

There are two that I have never been forgiven for missing. 1996, my mum goes out and fixes me with a socialite aunt for a party. I dressed up and went to the aunt’s house; my cousins were dropping names of the guest list, and I was in terror and horror- an evening party? With no time limit? I don’t remember how I escaped but I remember spending the day with a shop keeping aunt, and getting a serious telling off from my mother.

The other was after college, 2010; there was a goodbye dinner, and I had a self imposed deadline to hand in a novel manuscript that Friday. I was gonna go but my laptop, I suppose form overwork, froze.

‘she said something about finishing some work’

Many times, I plan to go out for something but then it hits me:

1.       I went out yesterday

2.       I would like some silence

3.        I don’t have the energy for small talk.

And the usual questions

"Rain got you yesterday?" 'No'

"You are feeling sick?" 'No'

"Are you on your period?" 'No'

"You just want and rest eh?" 'Um ..Yeah.'

I want to explain, I am feeling alright, and the minute you go out I will sing along to Green Day. I am not annoyed and  don’t hate  any of you, I’m not lonely, I am not silently judging you and if you don’t ask me to a cook out, I don’t mind. I can only handle that kind excitement once, every two weeks. I won’t be resting anyway, I will re-arrange my furniture and synchronize my spice bottles by lid color and start another sewing project.

In trying the right words, gestures and facial expressions to improve my social networks, I stumble upon -27 problems only Introverts will understand- So happy to understand there are other living humans  who  find unplanned phone calls mentally traumatizing- honestly if you are planning to call, text me, let me know  you will call, and what you plan to talk about. That way I can organize my head and not sound like an impatient telephone operator.  I cannot solve problems on my feet. I admit.

And just because I enjoy listening more than talking does not make me an eejit.

 I remember someone asking me- Don’t you have anything to say? Cc, honestly love, you never get a word edgewise. I bet I should have explained I got more out of social Interaction my listening.

And maybe if I had responses, I would have to write them all down-tomorrow-after- thinking, coz that’s  what  we do. We think to talk. And for that, extroverts brand as slow.

 One time, someone said to me, ũguo nĩguo mũndũ aritaga (you get foolish by staring blankly into space)

We are dreamers, that’s how we get things done. If I had not dreamt in my younger life, about 90% of the things I have experienced would still be undone. Come of think of it, I practically built up every event in my head.

I feel like I have been handed a fresh new notebook, not  that I would  join an introverts’ support group
-hello, my name is Gathoni, and I am an introvert… Cringe

No, we would rather be reading the dictionary.

 I don’t have to try to be extroverted to fit in. And that is Ok.