Clouds Cry

I earned a PhD in heartbreak,

Give me a much needed break.

Look pretty, sit still, smile, care more than you should

I would, I mean is there anyone else who could?

Late nights, drunk texts, unprecedented gifts

Dinner, date nights, compliments, smiles, fits

I care more than I should,

If the roles were reversed you would.

This is not poetry,

This is not flow,

There’s no rhyme but there’s a reason,

I cannot fathom how or why,

but I finally believe clouds cry.

The Cookie Book Tag

I came across this on The Finicky Cynic blog   yesterday and it got me thinking of all the books I’ve read so I figured, why not share my experiences. I also read the posts by Melissa-The Bookish Wanderer and Nicole who created this tag last year. Thanks Nicole!

Chocolate Chip: A Classic Book That You Love or Really Enjoyed (interpret classic how you want, it can be a classic written 100 years ago or 20 years ago)

I grew up reading literary giants like Achebe, Grace Ogot, Asenath Bole Odaga and Ngugi wa Thiongo’ and this book is second in a trilogy that focuses on the changes that came with colonialism. I am still in awe of Ezeulu, the Chief priest of the god Ulu, who is the main character in this book and his struggle to remain relevant at a very trying time.

Thin Mints: A Fandom That You Really Want to ‘Join’ AND/OR a Hyped-Up Book You Want To Read (your source(s) of a book being hyped can be from anywhere)

A Court of Thorns and Roses Series by Sarah J Maas

I’ve seen so many reviews of this series on Instagram that I would love to read it.

Shortbread: An Author You Can’t Get Enough Of

Image result for chimamanda ngozi adichie
Chimamanda Adichie

Samoas/ Caramel DeLites: An Emotional Rollercoaster (this cookie was hard … so any book that made you feel more than one emotion, strongly. The choice of emotions is up to you)

I still believe that if there’s a book you ought to read this year, this is it! It will break your heart, lift you up, dust you off, let you wobble a bit, break your heart, open your mind and all the while you’ll wonder just how much a person, more so, a child can take during conflict. I posted a review- here.

Oreos: A Book Whose Cover Was Better Than The Story OR Vice Versa, Where The Story Was Better Than Its Cover

Dragma's Keep (Valdaar's Fist Book 1) by [Pumphrey, Vance]

If you love an epic adventure, then this book is right up your alley. I’m talking about a noble soldier, a sorcerer/caster, a dwarf, a thief and a priestess, what could go wrong? I loved the book, but the cover…not so much.

Tagalongs/ Peanut Butter Patties: A Book That Wasn’t What You Expected (good, bad, or just different, interpret how you wish)

In The KitchenI loved this book despite the negative reviews it received. Gabriel’s a chef who dreams of opening up his own restaurant but he struggles with actualizing his dream.

Snickerdoodles: A Book You May Never Stop Rereading/ Loving

Image result for pride and prejudiceLizzy anyone?

Want to try this?

Here are the rules:

  • In addition to linking back to the person who tagged you, it would be awesome if you link back to the original post.
  • Pick a book that corresponds to the cookie’s ‘theme’.
  • Have fun!
  • Tag one to three people or leave it open to anyone who’d love to have fun with this tag! 🙂

Have you ever…

Waited for a call?

There you are, seated on this plush leather couch, holding a GOTV remote in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. It’s only three in the afternoon but you know he’ll call, so you sit back, get your body heated up by tea as you raise your temper by watching a Nigerian film.

You have watched it six times, and no matter how ticked off you are by the desire for Africa Magic to show it over and over again as though each scene changes with every replay, you like it. In fact you love the upcoming fight scene between Nzanzi and Patience.

You take the last sip of tea and walk into the kitchen to wash one cup, because if it’s dirty it’s gotta be cleaned. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just cleaned that sink with disinfectant an hour ago.

It’s four o’clock. No calls, no text messages, no reminders so you activate your mobile data and scroll down the notifications on your facebook home page. You want to check in on him, see what he’s done or where he is, but a sane strand of pride reminds you of your heritage. Descendant of Cleopatra, daughter of the Nile, dark, bold and beautiful, daughters of the Lake reign, who are you to crave attention?

So, you switch to Instagram and check a few updates from GlobalGiving, JustJared, and slowly turn back to Pinterest in search of the latest Ankara and Kitenge designs.

It’s five and you deactivate your mobile data and sit back on that leather couch and think of a thousand ways to vent your frustration. He will call. He promised. You wait and then look around and you hold your friend, the blue crown ink pen you got at Choppies for thirty shillings, and you say “well, at least you are here, let’s make him suffer in a story.”

The pen nods.

Your hand glides over the paper, masterfully crafting a story with a sad painful beginning and ending for him. “We could stab him and watch him crawl towards help.”

“Too brutal darling, how about we ask him out and never show up?”

“Devil! We could as well unleash the cold war on him while we do that, like set our phone on airplane mode for three days. When he calls we can say we misplaced a charger or something and then simply give him the cold shoulder.”

“You are worse than the devil, but we both know you have his number engraved on your mind.”

“So what, I am good with numbers but, he does not know that, let’s begin the story by stabbing him in the morning.”

“Why stab him and why in the morning?”

“You don’t know anything do you?”

It’s six thirty when you look up and stop writing. There is only one notification from Safaricom “Tunukiwa bundles,” and you know he will not call.

You finally go into your room, take off the new black dress you had and change into your smurfs pajamas. You take off those leopard print heels and walk into the kitchen. When you reach out for the knife to dice onions; your phone rings. So, you keep dicing those onions and humming that “Mercy” tune by Shawn Mendes because a good cry never hurt a soul, especially where onions are involved.

You settle down to have your supper at eight. He’s called six times.

He is still calling but we both know you are done and there’s something about growing cold and becoming impenetrable that he is yet to learn. So, every call fuels the freezing process and then you find yourself watching Spongebob Squarepants till midnight.

Have you ever wanted that?

Shadows in the forest

If you would have asked Henry what being caught between two women felt like; he would have told you, “like Samson, standing in the Philistine temple.”

It is the kind of feeling my mother says makes monkeys flee when a storm is brewing.

Henry remembers the numbness he felt when he first met Grace. She was poise, charm, beauty and intelligence. He remembers taking her in as though he was working in a vineyard, tending to berries that would produce the finest quality of wine.

He could not bring himself to speak in her presence and for two weeks, this unnerved him. He walked into a room and people got to their feet, but with Grace, just one look, or the awareness that she was around him, rendered him helpless.

He did not as a result, later on, tell her about the wife and kids. Leah belonged to another realm. He attended to her in that realm and cherished every daylight with Grace.

“We are not as the world would seem,” he would say to Grace every time she raised an eyebrow or tilted her head to the side as she watched him.

He did not unravel the mystery that were; Daniel, Samuel, Jonathan and Delilah; his children.

If you would have asked Henry what it felt like when Grace told him “Don’t” and turned her back to him, he would tell you he didn’t know what you were talking about.

It’s like my mother says, “There are so many ways to break a man, but a man who lets himself be wounded is the kind that forests never speak of.”

Voices in the forest

What is it about voices that make them storm through our minds at odd places? The places our souls frequent, to get that sense of calm; places like temples, churches, mosques, shrines.

These voices perch on our shoulder and proceed to mock every word, feeling or thought we have.

What is it about these voices that wake up a wife at three o’clock in the morning? The voices that help her watch her husband sleep and list the ten thousand ways she could kill him. She looks at his neck, the thing of beauty that holds his head, and smiles. She then slips the knife beneath her pillow and drifts off, her slumber summoning the voices.

If you would have asked Leah at that moment, what it felt like seeing the goddess that summoned her husband, she would have laughed. My mother calls it “the face,” and she says “every woman has that face, the one that neither the world nor her offenders can read.”

Leah would tell you that she does not care and isn’t that how a storm is brewed?

Ghosts in the forest

If you would have asked Grace how she felt in that moment, you would have glimpsed at something. My mother says it is like the oldest tree falling in the forest at noon, when the sun has fully kissed the earth.

Grace.

Henry.

He always said that he was named after a missionary. He brought good news, conquered her heart, toyed with her will. When he called she ran. When he said, “I want to see you,” she packed an overnight bag.

Grace was his light. She felt like his partner, the one drug strong enough to numb his nightmares, but nightmares called wife and children can never be wished or kissed away. If Grace were to ask anyone, or tune into any local morning radio talk show, she would have received her judgment. She was too smart to feed her brain such mush, instead she took it as it came; the love and kindness, but of all, she lived for the way he cherished her.

Dinner after a long day at work.

Career recommendations and the phrase he kept saying “never change yourself to suit a man, change to suit yourself, keep your dreams alive and never stop working.”

It’s why eight months later seeing Henry at a dinner party walking with his arm around her made Grace desire never ending sleep. When he found the courage to walk up to her, she shook her head firmly, as though each shake could wipe away the images that were playing in her mind.

He reached out for her hand, “Grace.”

“No, don’t,” she said and took one look around the room, but even then she knew. She knew that his wife knew and that is what my mother says is like sharpening a knife.

Reading updates

Saturday’s here and I am all for staying in bed and listening to Bryson Tiller’s Trap Soul, but that’s for another time.

I’ve been doing less writing and more reading.

On my to-read list today are:

  • The Liar in the Library by Simon Brett: Having been booked to give a talk at Fethering Library, successful author Burton St Clair invites his old friend Jude to come along. Although they haven’t met for twenty years, Jude is not surprised to find that St Clair hasn’t changed, with his towering ego and somewhat shaky relationship with the truth. What Jude hadn’t been suspecting however was that the evening would end in sudden, violent death. 
    More worrying, from Jude’s point of view, is the fact that the investigating police officers seem to be convinced that she herself was responsible for the crime. With the evidence stacking up against her, Jude enlists the help of her neighbour Carole not just to solve the murder but to prevent herself from being arrested for committing it.China Girl by Ho Lin: In its nine tales, China Girl documents the collisions between East and West, the power of myth and the burden of history, and loves lost and almost found. The stories in this collection encompass everything from contemporary vignettes about urban life to fable-like musings on memories and the art of storytelling. Wide-ranging and playful, China Girl is a journey into today’s Asia as well as an Asia of the imagination.They Know Not What They Do by Jussi Valtonen: Joe Chayefski has got what he always wanted: a reputation as one of America’s top neuroscientists, a beautiful wife and two perfect daughters. But his carefully created idyll is threatened when his Baltimore neuroscience lab is targeted by animal rights activists. The attack is followed by a phone call from Joe’s ex-wife in Finland. Two decades have passed since he abandoned Alina and their young son, Samuel, returning to America to advance his career. Now Samuel is somewhere in the States, and Alina fears he is looking for revenge. As Joe struggles to protect his new family from the increasing threat of violence – and to save his eldest daughter from the clutches of an unscrupulous tech company – he is forced to reconsider his priorities and take drastic action to save those he loves.

Which book/s are you looking forward to reading this weekend?

Have a lovely day 🙂