She Blossoms…

“There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.” Continue reading »

I am a romantic. No, I do not panic when presented with pink sapphires. I bask in the glory and beauty. The beauty was breathtaking. That’s why I was gasping for air. Not in panic. I am a romantic! To prove it. Here’s… Continue reading »

So we already said this before: Man! This town is crazy! I honestly don’t remember it being this upside down. But then there’s the outside looking in factor, I guess. Just so you know, once you cross the Mtwapa/Shimo la Tewa bridge in serious trouble. Continue reading »

Writing is hard. My Young Adult Novel is… well, I’ll get there. This past week I’ve distracted myself a little, so I may be a little short on the word count. There’s this thing with The GB which can only be described as amor loco. When I say loco, I always think of the moon … Continue reading »

There is absolutely no way for me to avoid sounding sappy and love sick. So I’m just going to go with the flow here. This week I’m reminded of an old song on one of my Mum’s LP collections. ”But You Know I Love You” is a song written by Mike Settle, which was a 1969 pop hit … Continue reading »

You know that feeling you get a nanosecond before you fall? Yeah, that ‘oh God no’ before you start flailing and reaching out for anything to stop the fall. Well, I got that feeling as soon as we arrived here. The reason I haven’t updated you on anything since then is because I’ve been trying … Continue reading »

I knew a bunch of things would have changed. But it hurt to find my beach dirty, overcrowded and, gasp, there’s a beach restaurant straight out of that Tropical Heat 80s TV show. Only instead of Nick Slaughter that hot PI, there’s a bunch of barely sober thugs chewing on miraa and sunflower seeds.   … Continue reading »

Okay, I still know how to swim. In a mini-pool. Still have not gotten the guts to go into the ocean which is plenty symbolic, just so you know. I’m gonna have to do a lot of water dipping while I am down here but for now, let’s just go with the toe-dipping. I can’t … Continue reading »

15 hours after we first set off from Nairobi, we arrive in Mombasa. We are tired and hot and sticky and… We should have seen the signs. The cab driver had been arranged for us by a friend who lives in Mtwapa. We needed someone who knew the town well, that we could probably use … Continue reading »

So before I tell you about my old town, I tell you it has changed, let me tell you about the journey here. We decided we wanted to come down by train. We, being my writing team mates, Linda, Beth and I. Adventure was in our minds, maybe even some ideas for the novels we … Continue reading »

I am looking forward to going back home. I am anticipating, and at the same time totally dreading going back. I left Mtwapa a little under ten years ago. It wasn’t under the best of circumstances. And the better life I was leaving for didn’t work out exactly as I planned it. However, I must say … Continue reading »

I am going home in a few days time, after nearly ten years. Maybe that’s why I am thinking of this again:   Bryan was my brother, ten years older than me and a paint artist. He left home when I was 8 and for a while the distance and age gap pulled us apart. After … Continue reading »

I turned 16 sitting in the backseat of a battered Navy Blue Double Cab Nissan pick-up truck that smelled of hay, cattle, sea and fish. I was smoking a tobacco and marijuana cigarette, studying for my High school Physics finals, hoping that my mum would make it through the second surgery that week and trying … Continue reading »

It’s been ten years now, I haven’t forgotten, but this time I am going to do things a little different. I am going to take out the black nail polish and paint my fingernails and toenails black. And then I am going to go out and celebrate life for both of us. Continue reading »

I am glad that of everything I have ever loved and lost, writing is one thing I’ve been able to reclaim time after time. I was in a conversation with my business partner and a client a couple of days ago. Talking about writing – our client said she had always wanted to write once … Continue reading »

That can’t be good, she thought.

The sight of blood, rather than the awareness of injury sent her into a colourful hypnotic swirl slowly urging her towards the darkness as the chaos continued around them, her mind only vaguely aware of it all. Continue reading »

Writer’s defense: I was 17, and I thought I loved the guy, I think. Continue reading »

The terrain around the compound was a gentle ascension from sea level. But that was the only thing gentle about it. The ground was half sand and mostly coral rocks, with sharp edges that snapped her goat leather sandals apart when she didn’t land her foot too carefully. Continue reading »

After the mahamri na chai breakfast, Zohra thought she had her day planned out. She was not going to draw and carry water for anything or anyone. Instead she would lie on her back on the ledge of one of the balconies; legs swinging on either side and wait for Rashid. That was the picture she had in her mind. Continue reading »

It took her a few minutes to gather her wits together and enough courage to venture out of the room she had been pushed into last night. Now she knew the compound, and remembered the time she had spent here. Continue reading »

Her mind rushed forward and backwards, trying to place even a little bit of sense into what he was telling her, but she only found herself with no words, righteous or unrighteous. Zohra didn’t know what to feel. The part of her that wanted to stay mad at having being kidnapped and bundled like a rolled-up carpet in the back of a bumpy car … Continue reading »

I hate messages that are meant to inspire, but that are borrowed from quoted cliches. But this one just got me. It just kinda took me back to where I was when I wrote the post A Good Book on a Cold Weekend. I do have a tendency to go for the I-wish and If-Only tags. I whine, forgetting that no matter how tough things are for me, I still have it good. Continue reading »

For the Back on the Wagon section before this one, see Out of Focus. She moved from the floor to four poster Swahili bed. And just right then she felt rather than heard the clang of the door unlocking from the outside; a whoosh of air followed the burst of sunlight. “For the love of God, open … Continue reading »

A bokeh; an out of focus snapshot. That’s it. Her life was out of focus, blurred by the lights, colours, reflections and in betweens. There was no aesthetic quality to it, like you would see in a bokeh – one sharpened, focused image against the background of blur. No, for her, in her life, there was only blur. Continue reading »

The sound of the men’s footsteps, and their voices in Swahili only vaguely interspersed with Arabic and one or other of the Mijikenda tongues, faded into the morning chirp of countryside birds. Soon, she knew the sun would sneak through cracks in the old house. And then she would have to face him. Continue reading »

A close friend of mine is desperate to find a man who will be the one. I don’t believe in a one, not anymore. I do believe in love, and friendship, and partnership. Like my friend I would like to find a man with whom I can share life with… Continue reading »

The prime purpose of being a child is to be precisely that; a child. Of much lesser importance, is to grow up. A society has failed when it’s adults do not know a thing about being children; young, honest, accepting, able to draw much more fun from 3 shillings of sweets shared with a child who looks different than a grown up may try to glean from a sophisticated with other grown ups of like mind, and likely colour. Continue reading »

I live in the land of the veil. A veil which insists on hiding the beauty of diversity. I insist on seeing the beauty, so I keep finding myself beyond the veil, alternately alone or with a few defiant souls who might not quite see things my way.So here I am, standing at the door of the … Continue reading »

I usually avoid this kind of thing, but I got asked: “What are you afraid of?” Now you know me, I would do anything, even go bungee jumping just to prove I am afraid of nothing and no one. This thing generally gets me in more trouble than I could ever handle in five lifetimes. Continue reading »

In the portrait, the person depicted (me surely?) is young, gentle, feminine, a woman… She looks at another person who is hidden by shadows, vague, male, not my brother. Her eyes know. Her mouth is full, sensuous, determined. Her body shocks me because it is relaxed, accepting of its own sexuality. The feminine curves are defined… Continue reading »

So here it is. The clue for the next segment of Back on the Wagon Friday. Continue reading »

I’m here, and no matter what pain, and rage and sorrow, and despair… I still believe in happy endings. I’m here, I’ve been sad, and hurt, and weak, and so lost I had no idea how to get home… I still believe in happy endings. They don’t come in everlasting bliss, but through trial, hope, … Continue reading »

This one should be titled ‘Curve Balls’ but I want a happy ending. Not a happily-ever-after ending. Just a happy ending; one of many. One of them that I hope for is to wake up one day and realise that despite how many mistakes I’ve have made, and in spite of how many curve balls life throws at me, I still did pretty good. Continue reading »

I am a woman, who having been raised in a family where the majority was male sometimes tend to think like a man. No, I don’t like Soccer. Rugby fascinates me. All those big men.. ah! My mother is still not convinced that I am not gender confused. But to her credit, our last conversation on gender stereotypes and the more precise gender fluidity was reassuring. Continue reading »

Anyway, back to the signs. As a rule, people generally tell me their problems and ask for advice. I swear it’s like I have a sign on my forehead that says, ‘I am a problem solver, tell me all your secrets.’ In another universe I would have started a church. I am sure church owners get more money than therapists, even those 50 dollar Kenyan psychologists who prescribe antidepressants even before they have figured out what’s tying you up in knots. Continue reading »

A lot of people insist on normalcy, staying up to life schedules, living up to the norm code. Truth is, ‘abnormal’ is just ‘normal’ turned upside down. I always think about being different, chaff when people note that I am ‘not normal’ and chaff even more when I am lumped in with everyone else. Something … Continue reading »

Aww, shucks, I am here again. So there comes a time when whether a Lupie fights hard or not, the pain drags them down to the bottom of the depression hole. I tell you that deep, dark, damp bottom is the worst place to be for anyone, and I’ve been there… Continue reading »

So don’t be afraid to fall, to lose control once in a while, to love madly and to hope that you will be loved back. There will be bad days but you can also choose to walk together through them and move on past the jerks that broke your heart.

And with that, see a recap of last week’s e- zine… Continue reading »

I have always been handicapped in the area of dressing. Perhaps it is much more than that. I simply rebel at the idea of wearing appropriate clothing. My older brother used to relate how, when I was 3 or 4, I would fight… Continue reading »

This keeps coming up, and I am a little too lazy to rewrite it. Plus it’s nice to see my mum mellow after just one glass of wine and get back to it again. So here goes….

Just because I’ve never owned one does not negate the mad fascination I have with machines. Mean motorbikes, raw power vehicles, 18 wheeler trucks… Continue reading »

Anyway, so for the 100th time today, I had to tell someone that I am not learning spanish because I am enamored of the spanish soap operas raging on Kenyan TV now. Truth be said, what’s this obsession with truth? – I hate soap operas, and I hate the spanish soap operas/telenovellas even more.

Why? Well, I am an unromantic, pessimistic and very lazy bitch. I don’t… Continue reading »

The third PPK Reading Circuit took place on the ninth of April 2011 at The Mug on Kaunda Street. We discussed Freedom in Writing.

A writer’s work embodies all kinds of freedoms; political, religious, moral, ethic and sexual. The questions that begged were… Continue reading »

Okay, so maybe I was listening to Ciara’s 1, 2, Step when I started writing this. But truth is, stereotyping is so easy. As easy as 1, 2, 3…  Especially when there’s facts to back it up. So anyway, I had a conversation with my mum this morning. Something along the lines of a conversation … Continue reading »

The Erotomaniac: This kind of stalker believes that he is in love with you. To show his keen interest, he keeps calling you, dropping by, writing e-mails, doing unsolicited errands “on your behalf”, talking to your friends, co-workers, and family, and, in general, making himself available at all times. The erotomaniac feels free to Continue reading »

I almost did the Pharisee prayer last night.

Oh, you don’t know that story? Here it is: Continue reading »

One of the horrors of long distance love, is that sometimes you are in an ‘God I don’t want to die alone’ moment, and you realize that although you have everyone else around you; some even unwanted, the one person whom you’d want to be next to you right then, is a few hundred kilometers away.

And then there’s the usual me who sometimes wakes up and wants to go through hell without any witnesses. Trust me, when your tummy is running a hundred miles a minute you really don’t want anyone watching. Continue reading »

Her mind was not on the big glob of moisture that warned her a Nairobi flash flood was just about to happen, and that the jav fares were going to go up 200%. It wasn’t on the mass of humanity racing towards the railways bus stop. And it was not on the shoe on her foot that was beginning to bite at her little toe either.

Anne’s mind was on her soul mate. Continue reading »