Guest Post: Tribute to a Dead Tree

I know a dead tree. It is dead for most of the year. Sometime in September it blossoms. This is the first step towards the growth of plums. After the flowers, come the leaves then the plums then at some point it returns to looking like a dead tree.

I know a "dead tree". For most of the "year" - she looks like she needs to be cut down - she is "a waste of space". She would be better off as "firewood". A certain rough season comes and she blossoms.
She is exactly like those trees that are still standing after a hurricane ripped through an area. The hurricane season is her season to blossom.

Most of the year she looks dead. Easy to ignore or dismiss. Only after the hurricane does it become apparent that she had deep roots. She has resilience. She has staying power. This is the definition of endurance. It can mean "stand one’s ground; persevere; remain steadfast..."

Hurricane season is her season.

I went to visit this dead tree as she was "blossoming".  This is what I observed.

• She loves her God. He also didn't hide his love for her during the "hurricane season".
• She loves her family. Her family loves her. You should hear her laugh from way deep down her stomach when she is with them. She is so relaxed and carefree with them.
• She brandishes a machette or a panga effortlessly while in the shamba (farm). She chooses and cuts (more accurately harvests) maize (corn), cabbage, onions, pumpkin, grass you name it. It is not a weapon but a tool in skilled hands when she uses it.
• She is so generous
• She loves animals. There is a dog called Tom - who had not seen her for months but follows her wherever she goes. When she disappears in the corn farm , all she has to do is call him and he appears. She told me what they have is "true love". :-) 
• She is a bully. No one is off limits. Not even her cucu (grandmother)
• She really does stop to smell the flowers. Every plant worth smelling. She stopped to smell. I got a chance to pick some eucalyptus because of her.
• She skips. Yes. She does. :-) When we went for a walk - she was skipping as we went down the hills.
• She enjoys simple things. I like simple things. I like her. Good conversation overlooking a waterfall and singing. What more would you want?

Without the hurricane season - you would not know she is not a "dead tree". She has deep roots.

I love you my "dead tree". Keep "blossoming".

https://pattikay.blogspot.com/2019/10/a-tribute-to-dead-tree.html

The Fatherless Race: My mummy was a lioness, "I have a lioness inside me that I keep on a tight leash."

"Are you taking my picture?" Asked Mummy.
"No, it's the books behind you," I said.

Then she took out her phone and took a picture of me, then I took one with her phone,
Then we just sat.
She had had a horrid morning at her bank.
After 32 years slaving away at physically draining job her savings earnings and benefits had found their way into someone's online account and vanished.
She said she had reported it.
I didn't pry
But she got sorrowful day by day
Until they told me pneumonia had taken her life.
My mother had lost her life.


When my mother went on retirement, she had two major plans. She was going to relocate to the USA and she had everything laid out. I thought it was hilarious but many conversations after I realised nothing would stop her.

I guess the moment came after she had renewed her driving license. I thought man, this woman is set.
And knowing her spirit, the same stubborn spirit I have inherited, I took her shopping for thermal heat preserving vests in preparation for winter.

Then she said to me, do you think this phone will help you in your work?  I said yeah but don't feel you have to. She loved her phone so giving it up would mean a better offer was out there, in Trump's kingdom.

The last time I met my mother, she was late than our agreed time.
So I asked her to meet me in Kikuyu town. I wanted her opinion deciding a location for Cisster Salon. She said she was tired so We went to crave kitchen.

My mother loves fine things. She was blown away, she said the chefs were dressed right, the decor must have been done by an international designer and insisted the owner could not be local. I pointed Tom out.

She said: haiya that one with dreads?
She looked around and said she wanted to have a look at the toilet. She came back grinning saying how awesome the place was but would I stop telling her to have the soup Coz she only wanted another mug of tea if I would buy it?
I should have asked if she wanted another samosa.
We talked.
She had had a horrific experience at equity bank that morning.
I didn't probe
But now that she is dead and I have had a look at her documents.. It's no wonder she only wanted tea that day. Me, I would have collapsed right away.

I have been feeling like I'm gonna get blown away anytime now.
It's a feeling I have never had before.
Losing the only parent I have pains a lot.


Losing my mother now, this year on top of everything else just proves how ruthless Satan is.
Satan has no mercy.
But my friend wrote a blog post for me:
https://pattikay.blogspot.com/2019/10/a-tribute-to-dead-tree.html


My mother's back up plan was to try farming. She was gonna buy a big tank and store water. Then she would look after grandmother.
 I know she would have raised a couple of dogs as well.

Today I'm thankful for the time I spent with mummy in the short time she was on retirement. She made effort to come see me and reassure me. She embraced vulnerability when she accepted my offer to take her to the dentist in August. She was scared of dentists.
I laughed when she said after ' ah ona rītiuma na ruo.' Then she gave me a thousand Bob to pick up my aunt arriving from the village.
I thought it was a bribe for my silence, not to say she was scared of a tooth extraction.

But this is for a short while. I know my mother will get up in future.
Meanwhile, I will try and get some rest.
I will follow up what my mother tried to resolve before death caught up with her. When my anger subsides.
I am angry at a debased society that preys on its defenseless members.
I'm angry at a society that discards it's members when their value has diminished.
I am angry at this old world, and I hate it. May your kingdom come please.
I am assured of one thing though:
Psalms 37:10

Just a little while longer, and the wicked will be no more;You will look at where they were,And they will not be there.

Jehovah will soon undo every injustice that we have suffered in satan's wicked world.
Isaiah 65:17
The former things will not be called to mind.

Monday Profiles: Big Cisster's Got me

This woman is called Estah
Once upon a time I found myself on the precarious edge of a deportation, or imprisonment if the judge decided my hair was too knotty.
I had a month to appeal for my student Visa, I had no cash and my emotions run high between rash regrets, why didn't I just get married when the offer was on and despondent self pity oh no this is not happening again! I have to start over from nothing and why did I even get started in the first place!

We sat in a hotel room in Singapore. I sat on the floor. She lay on the bed, Tlotlego lay flat on the floor completely asleep. Tlotlego has a gift of sleep. She can fall asleep on the kitchen counter and she would be fine.

' The last time they pulled me out of an exam room I broke down and could not say anything.' Said I.

" I want you to go and talk to them like an adult, and state your case, refer to your grades." Said she.

I didn't have much practice
I had never been sent away from school for lack of fees, ever.

But I went and stated my case and got into the line up for scholarships.

A year later, Estah rang me. I was in some undisclosed location. My mental and emotional health quite a mess.
Hurt and completely destroyed and probably even running for my life.

She said I'm sending you cash to come back to the city. She did.

I wasn't ready
I needed to be alone in the open fields to clear my mind.

I got back to the city eventually wit ya clear mind and lighter emotions and Estah called to say she had a job for me.
Who does that?
Who is alive to support your mad schemes for decades?

But That's what she has always been, someone who has always seen my potential.

And put faith in me.

So last week she sent her daughter to my salon. My first hair treatment client.

I believe if I started selling charcoal Estah would order a gunia of charcoal and then look for a maize roasting trader and give it to him.

In 1997, my mother brought me Nivea lotion. I couldn't tell the difference between it and Vaseline Solea or whatever else was there to apply on my legs. But Estah saw it and told me: That's a very good lotion you have. We were in primary school.

In 2009, Estah took me to an expensive restaurant and said: order the Cabarnet Sauvignon, it's not too sweet  and she was right. It's the only wine I recognize.

And all my life I don't think I'll ever meet someone that's got it together as she has, yet she remains modest.

So my big sister has got me,

In spirit of the Cisster Brand let me hear those bookings coming in..

Incomplete Guide to Cooking Food- Tomato Soup

My heart has been aching a lot lately. I've been pushed to a corner I have never ever ever been and I'm trying to accept it without going under.

I could go under.

But I haven't 

I have something that always brings me back.

Soup.

With Creed, Three Doors Down, Dashboard Confessional 

In the background telling me-

'I'm six feet from the edge

Can anyone see me down here

Just on more step I beg You please

Just one more breath I beg you please.'

One day this week I really almost went under. I was out all day with people and I really needed a moment to cry. I have become quite a cry baby lately. When I can't find a spot to howl I drink tea instead. 

So I walked into Hermes Dairy to have a cup. Hermes is our neighborhood grandfather. He specializes in milk, in its various stages of life.

We love Hermes. He tells us many stories , when his wife is not around. But let's not talk about that but let us point out one important truth:  He has a beautiful daughter who makes great brown chapati.

I found my friend had checked in some minutes earlier and just finishing his first chapati.

I told him It was nice to see him but I had had a long day and would like to sit quietly before I can face anymore humans.

He said pole, 'have a chapati too.'

I said "no I'm fine."

And he smiled and said 'no, just have a chapati.'

Because my friends know if I say no to a chapati there must be something wrong. And if a chapati won't fix it we might have to look for more measures.

I had my chapati, quietly. And I was fine by the time I was done.
 And so I explained how I been bullied this big guy who mixed all his English tenses and felt threatened when a young boy with a nice hair cut asked for clarification.
'All of you lowlifes sitting in the back come here , hakuna kitu mnaelewa!'
A low life. Seriously?
It was quite unprofessional.
But there is a certain stage in life you find yourself where you have to interact with people you would otherwise never have to deal with.

And he told me how his supervisor had refused to approve his work and how annoyed he was feeling.

And we both felt better. 

Food does that.

It covers for what words can't cover.

It started to rain but it didn't matter.

When the mud has left your heart, you can wade in mud all the way home and your step will be light like a happy girl in summer.

Let us talk about food now.

Your Shallow and Incomplete Guide to Cooking Food for People who live alone or with Cats and are Tired of Eating Ugali and Eggs every night.

I make a lot of soups. When my heart is in despair solid foods won't do. I need something that will get absorbed right away.

Today I will share 

my thick tomato soup recipe for days when your heart won't stop aching.

What you need:

3 Ripe Tomatoes 

2 Table spoonful of Tomato paste

One red hot chili pepper

2 cloves of garlic

Salt

1 teaspoonful sun flower oil (optional)

What to do:

Cut the tomatoes in half and drop then into two cups of boiling water

Let them boil until soft

Pound the garlic together with the chilli

Use the pestle to mash the tomatoes

Stir and scoop out the skins

Add salt

Add the tomato paste and stir

Add the sunflower oil

Stir in the garlic and chilli

Let it simmer for three minutes 

It should be ready.

I eat mine with bread or chips- check out the bread recipe from earlier this year.

Sent from my iPhone

Finding God: Can a father in heaven be trusted?

'The Rock, perfect is his activity for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness who is never unjust'

'But how can I trust him while he is a man Ayler? How can I call him - Father- when father to me means rejection, abandonment. How can I trust him?

' He is the Rock, and as long as you are standing on that rock, you can never be shaken. '

Jesus I knew. Me and Jesus were cool. I knew how he viewed and treated women. I knew he didn't have an ego.
But this Heavenly Father. I needed time.
And so he started to mend the painful spots.

He provided brothers. Young brothers who ask me for advice. Small brothers who celebrate my wins like they were their own.
And other brothers who tell me 'Cecilia you are wrong and you need to apologize to her ' while looking me straight in the eye.

And big brothers who tell me 'Cecilia you can do this, and look at the bigger picture and think of eternity and life after 1000 years and get out off that funk you are surfing on, and tell me HOW ARE YOU?'

When I was 19. My friend Lewis bought a double decker. He said I could sleep there any time I didn't wanna go home. And when his sister came he slept in the living room, his sister took his bed. I was his sister and could I get it into my little head I didn't have bring things when I needed to visit. He said that after hitting me on the head with the coconut I had brought from Malindi.

Then Ken came from Hargesia and he took me out of the house while I was living as a hermit, writing books.

Now I ask him "why didn't you take me home with you when I gave you the option? " He says he realised I needed looking after.

Mutua found me, and took me home to his mother and brothers. And introduced me to Jehovah, answering 19 years of accumulated questions. ' how about the law of Moses?' Says I.

'Learn the law of Christ Ciss, said he.

19 was a hard year for me. But I got past it. 2019 is a hard year for me. But I have my brothers around me . And slowly, I am beginning to accept that I have a father in heaven. He is a man, in my head yes.But that's okay, I don't mind.
A man can be trusted.

' The Rock, perfect is his activity. For all his ways are justice.'

In spite of things. Jehovah can still be trusted.

Your Incomplete and Shallow Guide to Cooking Food for People Who Live Alone or With Cats and Are Tired of Eating Ugali and Eggs every night

How to shallow fry a Samosa

2019 has been a year of firsts for me.
First time I got caught by the flying squad taking a selfie in a restricted area- I thought they would shoot me for real- but I don't  want to talk about it because I will appear quite stupid and then you will not even buy my incomplete recipe guide book when it comes out.

One thing I can assure you, a pink phone cover is like a phone insurance and you should invest in one because it will get you out of trouble. The three cops turned it around and around, looked at me, one shook his head and laughted at me- I think I was looking pretty shaken.
Then asked ' what type of phone is this?' Rhetorically.

My other first was the robbery. About a month ago. We were coming from meetings and as usual I could hear my keys but could not reach them so as I was shaking my bag and searching through this enormous bag I carry three muggers came and said 'cooperate or get shot.'
The one that took my bag searched for my wallet and couldn't find it. He got tired I suppose.
There was a Banana peel inside, very ripe tomatoes and I think the milk was dripping a little so he said ' just find the wallet for me and give it to me.' At one point he was holding my phone. But when I got into the house it was right there in my bag.

My friend says it looks like a brick game.

My other first was, one day recently I got very bored. I never get bored. What I get is anxious because of all the shenanigans I need to do and end up sleeping at 3a.m because I just realised my cream lace dress would look better with a silver colored lining and here I am ripping off a lining from that oversized dress I bought to stitch in to this one that I must wear tomorrow.

I got bored. It was a very strange feeling.
Then it occurred to me that I am finally finding contentment somehow. I am less restless.

If you are still with me here's the recipe.


One cup of white flour
Half teaspoonful salt

Dhania (3 bunches)
Minced meat 800gm
One big Leek onion with green leaves.
Four red hot chili peppers
One beef cube.

How to make the filling

Put the beef in a cooking pan and stir until it starts to stick to the pan
Add the leeks and stir some more
Add oil and let it cook
You can sprinkle some water- a little, like one spoon.
Add the beef cube and keep stirring
Add salt
Add the chillies
Remove from the fire then add the dhania and stir it in.

Let it aside to cool down as you make the covers. Tuziite tu covers.

Make a dough that's light and easy to spread
Cut it into tiny balls the size of a bottle cap
Roll out the first one
Spread oil on it
Roll another piece on top of it
Press the sides all around at one inch intervals with your finger to leave room for air in and out.
Cook one side on a pan,
Turn it over
As it cooks try peeling the one on top
Now flip the sides that were inside and cook them lightly as well
Cook all sides but not to a crispy state.
Remove and cut into half
It doesn't always come out perfectly.

The more you cook the more you learn to live with imperfections and the more you start to appreciate taste over appearance.

Fold the half twice to make a pocket.
Using a paste made out of flour and water, seal the edges.
Put in the meat mixture as per size of the pocket
Leave enough room to enable you to fold over.

Take a normal frying pan and pour a thin layer of oil to cover the entire surface
Roast  your samosas on this oil.
Just slightly.
Eat all of them in one sitting.

I really think Samosas are underrated.
Let's say you are sitting over there with a plateful of chips and tomato sauce
And she is having a cup of tea na Sambusa mbili
Then you both go back and sit in front of your excel sheets.
Let's guess who will get up before 3.00pm to look for coffee and ground  nuts?

I was making and selling Samosa at one point in my life. It was a lot of work and no financial profit, but we got to eat the ones that didn't sell so. Food is a good idea. I suppose a good business is not too bad compared to selling tea picking baskets. Imagine walking around with three of those things and then going home having sold none and you have to tie them to a nail beside our door because they cannot fit inside the house.

Plot 65: A Scandal

Scandal in plot 65: When death from a teacher's beating was chosen over a suspension.

In the village where I grew up, it was normal for people to call each other names.
Think of any wild animal.
Any ugly looking animal.
It was fine.
Just don't call anyone a dog.
A dog was the mother of all insults.

If you were a student at Mitero Primary school, having a physical fight with someone and the word dog slipped out. The fight scaled to a new level. You stopped the physical fight and got into a word fight about your mothers and fathers and it got so ugly you had to call for support from boys from Kihuhīhīro Primary school, they were the baddest. They would come and beat up the side that had called the other ' dog'  and they would beat up everyone even remotely related to them.
So you could not say the word dog aloud.

A dog is called Ngui
This dog in Kikuyu is Ngui īno
These dogs are Ngui ici
Thin rowdy dogs are Magui maya.

And now it had got out that we had said that a teacher had called the standard four students 'dogs'
We had to define which dog.

"Did he say which one?" Our evening tuition teacher, my aunt asked.
'Yes, he called them thin mongrels.'
'So it was class four East?'
My cousin asked.
'Yes, but he is also our Kiswahili teacher so I'm sure he will call us too.' I proudly expressed.

I had just got into class four and had privileges. We now used ink pens and had music lessons. We ate school lunch- Supro- basic boiled githeri.
We also spoke in English.
By first term we had picked up the important phrases like.
'Please teasher can I go out.'
'Please give me a dot.'
A dot was a drop of ink your desk mate put for you when ink in your pen ran out.
So I felt important, superior and better than my cousins who were still using pencils to write. Casper was speaking Kiswahili , being in class three but Kui was still learning Kikuyu syllables in class one.
 N na G na W na A - Ngwa
Ala na E - Le
Ngware
Ngware is Guinea pig.

That's how we were educated. You first learned Kikuyu as a language, then the teacher used it to teach Kiswahili as a subject.
Then you learned Kiswahili as a language and it was used to teach English as a subject.
 Then in standard four you started to learn English as a language.
What you spoke after that was basically up to you. We mainly spoke Gīnglish, a direct translation of Kikuyu to English.

So I proudly told my cousins the teacher had called the students dogs in English.

The most reserved teacher in the school had called students- Magui.

So here were are, Casper and Me in the staff room. He is begging for mercy from his teacher.

He is a class behind me so his class teacher is dealing with him. But I am in class four and I have to speak English and this is a case for the head teacher. The headmaster might write my name on the Black Book, and my criminal record will remain for generations.

Meanwhile one teacher is saying
'Surely Shishilia, what will your grand mother say? You used to be a good girl, what happened? Umemea pembe?'
I want to tell her
'Mwalimu tafadhali niue tu.'

A death from a teacher would be better I figured and would have told her as much if I wasn't completely tongue tied.
I was angry at my cousin.
How could he have let this out?
I was thinking of the many ways to make his life miserable once we managed to get out of this without having my grandmother come to school.
That was the priority . Shushu could not come to school at any school.
I could just imagine appearing at the gate and finding my Shushu getting into the sheep's pen with a load of weeds as high as herself and me telling her 'I did something wrong you have to come to school .'
Anything but that.

'Eh, all the books that have been written you have finished! All that is remained now is to talk about teachers. Weeee, chunga sana.'
She would say
Then she would start a prologue
' you children, play with education. Play with education completely. Me my father did not take me to school. That is why I have to scratch this ground from morning to evening with this panga. You you want to play. Do you have a shamba? Me my husband got me this shamba. You where will you do if you don't read? Eh? Me if I had read I would have done better, so it is your loss if you don't want to read. Me my work I have done. Have you ever slept hungry?'
'No.'
The lecture went straight to the brain and made you feel more pain than if she actually took a rod and canned you.

Now I was in the staff room being caned. This hand, then that hand, then  some more scolding from other teachers.
Casper pleading for his life
'Mwalimu please usinichape sitarudia kusema uongo.
We had lied, we said.
The teacher we had spread the rumour about now to took us out of the staff room for proper questioning.

'Shishilia, did you hear me call anyone Mongrels.'
'No teacher, someone said you did.'
'Who is this and what class are they in?'
'Mwalimu this person is not even in this school, so I am sure it's a lie.'
I was not going to say where I had heard it from.
The upper classes had a mobile library. I had managed to wriggle my way into borrowing story books at lunch time. So, I heard things.
I shot my cousin a glance again to tell him 'dare you say this is not true.'

'My aunt from Marmernet told me. '
Said I.
'What is the name of this aunt?' The teacher quizzed
'Leah, ' said I
'  She was a student here, many years ago.' I continued, 'and when she came to visit us and I said the name of our Kiswahili teacher she said that.'

'When will this aunt come again?'
' Maybe At Christmas Mwalimu but she was pregnant so she might not come this time.'

I am sure he read through the weak story line but I had given it my all.

'You will have to go and call your Shushu to come.'
'Woooi Mwalimu please we are sorry. Beat us. Then punish us.
Please please please don't ask us to call Shushu.'

We got off, I thought we got off easily and we didn't talk about it until two days later, on coming home I heard Shushu telling her friend.

'Shiriba, these are not children. These are trials. What shall I do? I will die completely.'
And Shushu Shiriba was saying.
' Ah, children? Children are like that. They lie sometimes but they don't mean harm.'

'No no aaaai. They will make demons come out of me!'

I knew that suddenly, the peace had vanished from our home. We were finished.

Shushu is smart and she can play with your mind hadi you tell her things you didn't intend for her to know but because she is acting like she knows everything you just confess.
So for two days she didn't say anything, until Friday night when she was putting us to bed.


I was the eldest so when the two slept a flood of pinches fell upon me.
' You hypocrite of a child. You think I don't know! You think I don't know anything! You have embarrassed me this entire region. What kind of a child are you? Do you have a good head? Eh? I'm asking you? What is this I've heard?'
So the story came out
I couldn't try the story about Aunt Leah on her. So I told her the truth.
I had heard it from a boy. The boy was in standard seven. This was his name.
'Eh? What business do you have being with boys! Let me ever catch you listening to boys. Ihīī? Look at her! '
A few more pinches. A few more dirty looks. Then she added ' from today I never want you to listen to boys stories. And women stories too. Mind your own business.'


Many times, after my cousins left and I was alone again. My Shushu would be in the middle of a story with some woman, I would be sat there, one hour, two hours and I was not supposed to listen.
I learnt to day dream. I guess that is the reason why I end up zoning out when I am with my people. I could be sat in a group of people and I have no clue what they are talking about . I rather prefer it though. I can swig in and out of small talk without commitment.

Casper got his beating the following day. He was given a different  law , to keep things spoken within plot 65 in.

How the story got out was, being the newsmaker he was, he decided to find out whether the teacher called students other insults apart from dogs. And who better to ask than the teacher's daughter. Lol.
We had suddenly become the scum of the earth, but it only lasted a short while before we did something else more bigger than the one before.

Shushu Shiriba suggested my Shushu to join her church so she could attend Wednesday prayer meetings, an advice which she took as we reached adolescence and became bigger trials.