I am glad that June‘s here because for some weird reason, I always seem to come up with better book ideas and plots in the month of June. At first I thought it was the change in weather and drinking lots of tea, but now I know there’s something about making it halfway through a year that inspires me to write.
It’s also been a while since I posted anything about my favorite things.
I stumbled upon an idea. It jolted me out of bed at three in the morning, onto the tiled floor and back into bed safe under the warm duvet. Then I remember my hand gliding across the notepad, scribbles here and there, a rush towards the feeling that denied me sleep.
Once my heart found its pace, I sat back in bed and pulled the curtains to see what nature had in store for me at four in the morning.
I heard cats meowing.
I reached for the power button on the wall and switched off the lights and lay there staring at the net right above me. I wonder, am I the only one who hears mosquitoes even where they are not present? It is too cold for those creatures to disturb my sleep here and suddenly I miss Kisumu.
I miss hearing the quarrels and chants of drunkards from Obunga. I miss hearing the sound of loud unwanted music from every corner of estate pubs- and motorcycles as they cruise through.
I wrote a story about four women each at a turning point in their life. It felt like my awakening, something that reminded me about the power of sisterhood, and what it means to confide in a fellow woman and have them help you pull through tough situations.
When I stepped out of bed at seven in the morning, I reached out for that notepad and all that was there was a line, a phrase that could not even build the sensation that I felt in those few hours…and that’s what writing is, sometimes all it takes is that one sensation, the feeling that this could lead somewhere.
It was some time between 7:20pm and 10:22pm yesternight when I asked myself what would I rather be…as light as a feather, or as free as a bird.
I know nothing about similes, it’s just that when you have the phrase “as…as…” you simply want to compare two different things.
So, give me a second or better yet give me a minute,
So I could tell you about what I’m feeling, in this very minute.
Let’s go for seconds and soak up all there is to this life,
Late nights thinking of where to go with a story,
Early mornings dreading what the day would bring.
Let’s go for seconds and soak up all there is to this life; the pain, anger, lust, fear, hope and resilience…give me something as long as it’s a serving filled with hope and resilience, and who knows maybe you could whip up some anger for dessert- because there is a certain kind of power that comes with rage, and I need that…something that would consume me enough to destroy me, just to remind me that I am human.
Give me a strand of compassion, one that I can weave as I please for in this world, we need love and there is plenty of it, but nothing melts the heart as compassion…so save me a strand, just a strand is enough to keep me awake at night and to get me to stop watching the news and losing sleep over how much the ammunition and pharmaceutical industry rakes in every second.
As light as…if only I had the comparison for this, something that would give my wandering mind some peace, then I’d grab a litre of blueberry ice-cream and watch Beauty and the Beast!
You say my heart is as cold as June in Nairobi, but hey, Nyeri’s always been cold, but even Nyaru’s never gone beyond 17 degrees Celcius, do the flowers die?
You say I am not like the other chics…now, I know nothing of the other chics, for what I carry around are my dreams, emotions, and this body that goes on the two legs that seem to get me miles away from what you say…
I say my version of events do not thrive on your validation neither do they cease to enlighten me when you choose to shun me away.
Oh, but what do I know because though I stand my ground, I still come back to you, begging and pleading and staying up late waiting…for you, my dearest blank page, are the one who consumes my thoughts, my feelings and desires, now with this heartfelt plea, would you let me be and let these words flow?