a note book

Lethargic is the word.
Perhaps not
But I have a feeling that could spell a big word
A feeling brought about by late payments
Evasive employers
And rent that’s got to be paid
Wonder, would love dilute this feeling
Change it to a smaller
Word like- neo soul,
Cruising or simply
Snapping fingers
Music.
Music would
Perhaps some simple plan
Perhaps John Gray
India. Arie perhaps?
John Njagi would do.
Or flowers, wild flowers
Tiny bits of color in white
Lilac and yellow
Perhaps a bunch of long stemmed
Jasmine.
Lethargic sounds like chemistry
But I have a notebook now

To think, create. 16/06/11

Don Anstan

me and cuz in mama's cabbage farm

1996. I had just moved to a new school and fighting hard not to wish I was back at the public school. The first day was a climax. The deputy asked me why my last name was woman’s name. I had the desire to point out that on average women form the greater population in any society, but he could have been my great grandfather’s age, I didn’t dare.
I couldn’t find a desk and had to share a bench with another girl who didn’t speak at all, even when the teacher asked her name, I had to look over her book and shout it to the teacher. Then that boy threw my bag on the floor. The floor was dusty, it was a new bag, and by the end of the lessons it was raining as it only does in Endarasha: leopards and foxes. My mother always got me dancing shoes for school, they were flat and smart yes, they also had holes all over.
It was barely the end of the term. We were having our P.E lesson. Mainly running around singing songs, and boys saying which girl needed a brassiere.
The teacher called me over and said- if you don’t stop doing that you’ll have to bring your grandmother.
I had been doing cartwheels, in the middle of a bunch or girls. We didn’t have P.E Kits, we also didn’t have curtains in our dormitories, parallel to the boys’. But he wasn’t talking about the cartwheels, he said- in this school we don’t allow boyfriends and girlfriends- I thought of the boys I hang out with, The wag, Prince Kigano, James and Mbua. Buddies. Boyfriend, ai, no.
So he mentioned the boy’s name,a boy in class eight. I would have liked to see my expression. I was shocked, but was already thinking about the idea, having a boyfriend in class eight would have solved a lot of problems, like having him kick that boy that said I had wincked at the teacher, but not him, aw. So I looked at him wide eyed as he said I was to end the relationship right away. Then he sent me away.
I have always been one for new ideas, and that really got me thinking. I checked the boy out at evening parade, he didn’t look that bad. I asked Shellomith what his other name was. She seemed to know what I was thinking, she said his head was pointed at the back(kisogo). I didn’t want to be the girl with a boyfriend with a kisogo- pointed head.
I never got to hear the end of the story and the teacher didn’t ask again. But in class seven another strange thing happened. I was now boarding. So one afternoon I was cleaning my shoes at the puddle below the tank, we rarely had water. A girl in class eight came and said- what do you think writing letters to my cousin? I feared the girl, she could box you. She never did box anyone, but she wore boy’s shoes and wore a mean look all the time.
I don’t think it was from me, I tried.
Nonsense, I saw the letter, everyone saw the letter.
Oh no, everyone? Everyone in class eight? The girl had a brother in the same class. The cousin was in class five. I was really embarrassed. I even wondered could I have by any slim chance written it in my sleep? A boy in class five? I had a marquee with the words sugar mama going across my mind.
I waited for the authorities to call me in but it never happened. I still wonder who wrote that letter. Kids can be mean.
But it was never all bad, well it was when I was getting canned daily. At one time I had to receive 25 strokes every day, straighten me right up it did, for the time it lasted anyway, then I was back to reading novels during science lessons and getting 32% in Maths.
So last week a friend calls me, happy about a message I sent. I had not written any message but she was to happy, didn’t want to put a pin on the ballon. But I told her later, there was no such message from me. In case she receives another asking for a ransom, you know?

a poem

Sometimes I like the reddish with black eyes,
Or the slim smooth white ones
The dark round ones can be surprisingly soft. If you handle them right
Sometimes the tiny on are fun, not much fuss. They don’t try to impress
The mixed ones don’t come cheap. I now remember the burly rough ones. With thick brown skins. Don’t see them anymore.
I loved their tough exterior, inside, soft almost powdery

Fry them
Roast them
Bake them
Boil them
Mash them
Slice
Curve
Roll and spice them
I love them all
Long live potatoes

My new loves

Goo Goo and Mooze

burning my fingers

I had kids over the other day. With kids you are never sure what they will enjoy in terms of food. So I decided to make a little of everything and I should have known that kids are easy to please. They loved everything! I guess it's adults I should be wary of. Kids like to try new things. So if you decide to have jacket potatoes, they will love them, adults will ask why didn't you peel the patatoes like everybody else. The one thing they were really interested in was the pasta. I don't break up my pasta. I washed their hands and asked them to go ahead.
By the way, why do people break up pasta, if you are going for small why not just buy long grain rice?

The one person I haven't been able to impress is my little cousin Irungu. He doesn't like salad at all. Unless there are pineapples in it, then he will pick these out . Reminds me of my friend's son who would only eat a few cucumbers off a whole bowl of salad. But Irungu likes pancakes, and as it is, his brother makes better ones than I do. I donno what's with that boy, Munyeki. He has a way with food. When he fries githeri, it is gourmet githeri.When I try that, it becomes githeri, onions, tomatoes and water.

So this time I'm sure I can feed about five people, with second helpings, men included. That is not exactly correct.I'm assuming all men eat the same huge amount. My friend's husband would eat less than us. Times when we went out for bakut teh, Me and and my friend would order two three rice bowls, each one and a half, and Wei would have one bowl. Then we'd scrape off the mush rooms and bits of pig from the pot. I guess I should say, five, moderately eating people. And about 3 kids. And they need to be open to new tastes.

I haven't made a pumpkin in days, so I'm off to look for one.

Ready to Go Emergency kit

Earthquakes, Tsunamis, Bombs, falling buildings, civil war... eehk.

In Kenya, our recent scare is Al Shabab. I overheard a woman at the market say-
"see these black spots I have, what do you know, I got them when Al Shabab started."
You would think Al Shabab was a communicable ailment. Gun shots, especially where I live are common but these days whenever a shot goes off you'll hear someone saying- they have come.
So I've been meaning to write about how to prepare for such an emergency. It is not an original idea, I read about it in the Awake! magazine.

You will need. A carry on bag
A torch and batteries
water
canned food(you can have biscuits, noodles)
A first aid kit(pain killers, antiseptic, scissors, bandages, Elastoplast, safety pins,salt,wet pads and those that can be used on burned areas donno what they are called )
Red cross has medical kits going for ksh.3,000 and ksh 2,000. But it is cheaper if you got them from a chemist.
You can add anything else you think is important.
For me, I would have copies of identification and a list of family and friend's numbers.

I have only done it half way but I'll keep getting the things I need.
When disaster strikes, all that would really be useful is yourself in good shape. Grab that bag and escape.

the link lists comfortable shoes and rain wear as well as an fm radio phone if you can manage (http://www.watchtower.org/e/200709/article_02.htm)

I can't get this off my head

"How To Save A Life"

Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life