writing for fun

I’m considering changing careers; I work in a volatile environment. Writing for a living, is convenient, but it can break you. I should go back to writing for fun. It’s been 11 years since something I wrote first appeared in a newspaper. I guess I’ve proved to myself that writing about- Locksmiths in New Zealand- only takes a few minutes, but write five similar articles and your head gets fried. And asking for my money all the time sucks the joy out of writing. I recently wrote down in my work book: Accomplishments that only mean something to me and me alone. I went up to 11, and didn’t even finish the sentence. I realized kumbe all my dreams have come true. Everything I set out to do when I was 12 and feeling quite grown up. I remember that is when I decided to cut off any relationship that was not adding value to my life, and to my great surprise I scored 62% in Maths. You know my history with numbers, and the number of plum trees that lost fine branches to provide canes for my Math teacher to try and help me understand train stuff. Like, why a train leaving Mombasa at 6.00p.m traveling at 60 mph and another leaving Nairobi at the same time might meet at some point and at where they will meet, while my big concern would be; what if there was a collision? And did they inform the train driver that another train was heading his direction. Lives could be lost you know. So anyway, I also realized the accomplishments were not anything to boast about, but something to boost me. I’m often ambushed by feelings of low esteem, and before I can get up, I have at times considered looking up a counselor. But writing helps, it helps me remember my worth, and what I really want out of this life. I am at an advantage, having faith in God does really keep me up. In my search for self worth, self knowledge and an understanding of how I work, me and not somebody’s daughter, granddaughter, niece, or cousin, I get stronger. I realized early that I was different, as different as a hippie. From my need to look after vulnerable living things; I once hid a puppy under my grandmother’s bed, but it started barking when granny started to snore. She woke up and announced that me and the pup would sleep outside. She didn’t lock the door when I carried the puppy out, so I crept back and slept in the middle of the bed, and remained still until she started to snore again.

Clean nursery beds

Boarding school had its moments. Like evening prep when the school neighbour would come home drenched in wine and demand from his wife:

-Mother of xy, why are the cabbage nursery beds unswept?-
His wife: -Now father of xy, it is which stories you are starting at night?-
The man would reply in great wisdom
-No, noo. Take a broom and sweep the paths, and between the seedlings. It is not good for them to look like that. I want them to look like a peeled yam-

The wife would get out, carrying a paraffin lamp (hold it for me), which would go out when she stepped out of the house. We would hear her sweeping around the nursery beds. We didn't laugh, we giggled.
I'd bet we were glad it was not our family next to the school.

In my first years of school I lived with a family next to my school teacher. He was unforgiving. When I failed in Maths, he would find a reason for my lack of high IQ.

- mm?  

     How do you expect to catch anything in class if you were all beating drums the entire night?-
They were a happy, funny family and they liked to sing spiritual songs, and to beat a drum on some nights.

I'm looking at my vegetable garden and thinking it needs a sweeping.

Pumpkin Bargains in plot 65

Our aunt (Tata) and general mother always had pumpkins in the farm. So we viewed them with derision and none of us would be caught with yellow in their teeth. Until she got clever for us, agituhigira, and started making pumpkin chapati and a new world order came up in plot 65.

She had one regular pumpkin client.
This client , a man, would buy a pumpkin each week. He came in around 6.30 after sunset eand it would go this way:

-Aaa, but you have sold expensive mother of Munyeki-
-Eeee, and the way I have sold well for you, I have made the price well well-
-But this one is small, just sell 40 shillings-
There is no problem, but it is to give I've given you

Mama would say after,
-Just give him, how often does a man go grocery shopping?-
And tata would say
-Eeh, that is to spoil him, you will see him here everyday-

We thought it was funny because the pumpkin Would cost 120,150 shillings if the market people were asking. But it is like when you lend a friend some money, not much, like 100 shillings, you let them pay you back to keep doors open if they would like to come back again. So with the pumpkin dealing, both knew they were preserving each other's honor. The man would have his stew, and he would feel empowered to woth his purchasing power. Tata would not feel like she had turned into redcross.

I like pumkin soup, but each time I buy a slice from the shop I feel quite ripped off.

Makes me meditate with much feeling the song,
By the rivers of babylon

Saddles

“We can go to Texas right now”
 “Where is your horse,” I ask him and he takes a long puff at his cigarette.
 “You just have to agree to come with me, I can take a loan and get us a horse.”
"You look nice.” I say to him.

He is dressed in cowboy fittings head to toe; I’m expecting to see a horse nearby. But this is Eastlando and I am not sure where a horse would graze among these tires and hardware shops. He reminds me instantly of  something my uncle and I would watch on TV- Walker Texas Ranger, but the cowboy standing in front of me looked more like the new Sherriff in another movie that makes me laugh.

‘If you agree to what I’m saying, cow girl, we shall go right now.” He again says and I remember, oh, I am wearing that hat which has lead to many conversations lately.

At times I laugh when I think of how a dress, shoe, nice bag can be the determinant of who is gonna walk home with you.
 I must say, I prefer friendships based on substance, not that, since That girl has a nice dress, she is more noticeable, thus more acceptable and can be included.

As I settle in into middle age, friendship is taking on a new deeper meaning. I find that I treasure old friendships that have taken many hits over time yet survived intact, and can only tolerate new acquaintances if they can ease in into my friendship rules.
Though I'm actually not very sure what the rules are but looking around, the friends I have seem to have some characteristics that run across the whole bunch of us.