tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67954386050230114692024-02-19T07:46:41.978+03:00One(+)Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-54685040510214057532013-10-29T17:51:00.001+03:002013-10-29T17:51:36.549+03:00ID ENNUI<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I didn’t think Ennui had a smell. Until
I went to apply for my ID. Ennui smells like smudged yellow soft board walls
drenched in old civil service sweat. Sweetish decay of layered, forgotten paper.
Red dust. Unwashed hands. Boiled meat. I had been to the office twice before.
And every time I would walk out with a vague feeling of humiliation. Like I had
just been insulted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The first time must have been some sort
of a recce. To check the area, assess the parameters, collect intel. Only the
intel that was given is incomplete (I believe this to be part of the evil ploy
to keep you coming back to them for additional humiliation), the parameters are
that of class (a bourgie ass like me was completely unwelcome) and the area is
bureaucratically complicated and needs a map to navigate. The numbers of
offices you have to visit are ridiculous. So the Ennui smelling room was not
even the first office I visited. It was the 5<sup>th</sup>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">So, the first time I went (as it was a
recce) was with a guide. The guide (according to my mother) would introduce me
to the right people and get the desired service. The guide instead took me to
the door and half-heartedly introduced me to man in a room of three women.
First mistake. Don’t introduce a woman to a man and ignore the three women, especially
when the women do all the work. That didn’t go down well. I figured they would
have forgotten me by the second time I went, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>without</u></i> a companion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Side note: From what I could tell, the
man’s job in this mid-to-lower level of civil service was to yell “Next” to the
timid mwananchi standing behind the door who would step in and hold out a
mostly torn, mostly yellowish brown, mostly over folded piece of paper to the
man, who would glance at it and put it on his female colleague’s desk for her
to do something about. And this happened in both the offices I was in, with
different men, so it couldn’t be a coincidence. Even the political battle of
the sexes was a bureaucratic process amassed of handing down paperwork. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The second time (sans guide) was no better.
Before I entered the office, I was speaking on my phone. The cardinal sin of
government offices. Thou shalt not speak on phone near, surrounding or even
within smelling distance of a parastatal office. I hung up as I approached the
door and with adopted meekness (in the way of the wananchi I saw around me), I
shuffled my feet and tried not to look anyone in the eye (or face). I stood at
the horse door (bottom part shut) and looked through the open top half. The
women were inside, gossiping loudly with the brash abandon of a government
official. I knew one of the women could see me (with the door opposite her desk
and all) but she ignored me. So, I looked around awkwardly before softly
saying;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Excuse me”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The woman to my left looked up at her
colleague and shook her head in mock amazement, as if to say ‘can you imagine
the gall of this person?’ I tried again (this time in swahili).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Samahani.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The woman at the desk on the left looked
down again at the papers that covered her desk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I want to apply for an ID.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Gimme your papers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She held out her arm towards me, without
once looking in my direction. I handed them over, feeling a little insulted.
Not much, just in that ‘at least acknowledge me as a human being’ sort of a
way. I handed them over. She went through them almost anxiously expecting
mistakes so she can reprimand me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Why did it take you so long to apply?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I was- uh, out of the country?” (I wasn’t really. I had managed to live from passport to passport until now). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“You need to see the head. They have to
sign. And I need your original birth certificate.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Just then my phone rang. My mother. I
looked up apologetically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Let me ask about the birth
certificate”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And answered the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Wa! The women were livid. Sucking teeth,
laughing incredulously, swopping glances. The amount of shade that was cast in
my direction was enough to make that little patch of the equator into the
Antarctic. Realizing that I had made a political faux-pas, I tried to exit
gracefully. But, it was also my mother on the other end of the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Mummy, I need to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“But I just called to ask how it’s
going?” Mummy insisted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I’m in the office now. They need my
birth certificate. Original.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Just talk to Mr. (name of guide). He’ll
help you”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Mr. (name of guide) is not here at the
moment. I need to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Sawa. Call me when you’re done.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“OK.” Moving to hang up before the
inevitable-.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I love you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">(Cringe)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I love you, Mummy”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I look up. The women are done with me.
They decide to tag team discipline into me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Don’t you know your not supposed to
answer the phone in an office?” Said one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I looked around for the ‘No Mobile
Phone’ sign. There was none.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“No-. Pole. Was there a sign?” (I swear,
I was being sincere).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Lips suck was the answer to my question.
After the longest “Mmmmschewww” in history another retorted;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“So you don’t know that it’s rude to
answer a phone in someone’s office?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I was also asking for my birth
certificate.” I offered apologetically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Oooo.” Said the first. “You, have
answers. If you have all the answers, take your paper and go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Me. Shocked. WTH just happened? And how
did it escalate so fast?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I’m sorry if I offended you. Please let
me know what I need to get my paperwork done?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Si, I tried to help you, but you think
you know everything?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I heated. </span><span style="font-family: Candara;">“If I did something wrong, tell me what
it is, so that I don’t repeat it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Who said you did anything wrong? I was
trying to help you-. Just take your papers to the head office. The head of
registry needs to sign this sheet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She skated the sheet of paper across her
desk in my direction. As if I wasn’t there, the women started to discuss me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Ati, she wanted to call Mr. (name of
guide). What can he do? Mschew. Some people.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“And to pick up the phone like that?”
Said the second.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I turned and walked out. Thus ended my
second visit to the registry office. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Between my second and third visit, I got
busy. I went to see the head registrar, a woman who signed her name, told me to
get a signed affidavit that stated the reason I didn’t have an ID, visited a
local lawyer, got affidavit, got passport pictures and my birth certificate
(one original, one certified, one copy).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was ready for my third visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Third visit. I returned with the signed
letter from Lucy the Registrar and all other documents. This time there was
another woman in the office. Phew. Not my nemesis who had previously sent me
away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The woman asked for my paperwork. I
gladly handed it over. I could see the end. The light at the end of the tunnel.
She looked at the paperwork. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Go to the first office, the one at the
front and get the right paperwork.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The right paperwork? Wasn’t this the
right paperwork?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She must have noticed my face because
she laughed and said; “You still have a lot to do. You’re just starting.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Fek.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I took my paperwork to the first office,
the one at the front. Behind the desk was my nemesis, snugly anchored between
two overgrown wooden desks, fully equipped with a man that yelled “Next” to
whichever poor sod was outside waiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Excuse me. I was asked to come here for
my ID.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The man looked at me with disdain. My
class had betrayed me. I was obviously one of those ones who couldn’t speak
Kikuyu and my Swahili (although correct) didn’t sound right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Stand outside.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I stood outside and noticed another
office with a sign that read ‘New applicants. National ID’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Oh. Should I be applying at the next
office?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The woman (nemesis) guffawed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Didn’t he tell you to wait. I can only
write one paper at a time.” She snapped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Ah, yes. How I had missed her
attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">So, I stood off to the side. Out of her
eye-line, so that I didn’t further vex them. </span><span style="font-family: Candara;">She must have finished with the paper
because all I heard was the man yelling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Msichana. Where are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I stepped up to the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Kwani, did you leave?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">By this time, I kept quiet. I had learnt
that some questions are not meant to be answered. Feeling the strange dis-ease
that came with being disrespected. It felt like a tingly anger under my skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I handed in my papers. The woman looked
up to receive them and saw me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Oh. Kumbe, it’s you. Mmmmm. You’re back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She looked through my paperwork. She
then took out a very faded photocopy – the actual form and handed it to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Go get a copy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I turned the paper over in my hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“I don’t think this will copy.” I
suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Now, you’re telling me how to do my
job. Go get a photocopy and ask them to add ink.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I’m not sure how ink was meant to revive
a dead photocopy, but hey, I’m just an applicant. What do I know about these
things?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">The woman at the photocopy kiosk did
what she could. I could tell she was one of the downtrodden. A servant of the
civil service workers. I had heard the woman in OFFICE 1 (not the first front
office, the other one) refer to the other people inside when asking about her –
‘Ati, what do we call that photocopy girl?’ As if, they had re-trained her into
answering to some new name they conjured rather than learn her own name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back and handed in my faded photocopy.
She took it and filled out all the details herself. I guess they didn’t trust
‘the people’ to fill out their own forms. As she filled out my forms, the man
next to her kept calling, “Next” and people would present themselves and their
tattered papers hoping to get some sort of service. As per his job description,
he would glance at the papers handed to him and put them on his colleague’s
desk. She would do the necessary (hand out IDs, ask for additional paperwork,
whatever) in the middle of filling out my form. So, I sat down. I knew the wait
would be long. Somewhere in the middle of it all, she discovered that she
didn’t have the necessary document to complete the paperwork. She looked at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Go to the other office and ask for the
book of codes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I guess she felt she
could send me. I was just sitting there anyway. And it was MY work she was
doing. So…I left, feeling a little like an unappreciated child. I’m sure we
were about the same age (minus the years of civil service that had obviously
aged her). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Finally, she finished. Aided by the code
book I had retrieved (absent thanks of course). She handed me the paper and
asked me to go back to the other office. ‘Great’, I thought ‘all I need is some
sort of stamp, official receipt and I’m good to go’. But No-Siree-Bob. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">I peeked through the horse door. The
woman looked at me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Has the Chief signed it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">What. Bloody. Chief. Now?!?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“No…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“The Chief has to sign it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Where is his office?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She points at the next block of houses
on the right. </span><span style="font-family: Candara;">I walk out. There is a line of people
sitting on broken stones and a rickety wooden bench, waiting on the chief.</span><span style="font-family: Candara;">I go to the photocopy kiosk woman and
ask;</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Where is the Chief?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She smiles as if she was sent to break
bad news to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“Chief left.” (Pronounced Shi-Foo.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“When will he be back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">She shrugs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">“He works in the morning. But you can’t
know if he’ll be back in the afternoons. Just wait.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">Sigh.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Candara;">This was my government. This was the way
things worked. This was what taxes and democracy came down to. As I sat on the
rock outside the Chief’s office, I felt ennui settle on me, thick and heavy
like bad perfume. I too felt the disappointment of a life-less-realised settle
on my shoulders, I felt the weight of years of painstaking hand written
application forms, the rot of overly tedious officialdom. It is no wonder that
the people who worked here are so hard and disillusioned. I would be. I
straightened my legs, watched the 18 month old who accompanied her mother,
dressed in her shiny Sunday best purple/ orange polysynthetic extravaganza
playing in the dirt and felt the sun on my face. As annoying as it was, this is
home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-74669378942578324692013-01-18T14:19:00.001+03:002013-01-18T14:19:50.223+03:00Kriket Kronicles<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTQR3iZgwTa16nNWdcLtvWXgYP7kJahV11FqMkIt6tVkfsBw80Jw8MIOZOCoJSLzFWIypsuNuRJ04znzPZCQAjw4aULiBI8vN2lqKZk80qiRs1UOVsdeTYTg6X86ESuNWdNywyI7Yutja/s1600/cricket+cartoon+snap.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTQR3iZgwTa16nNWdcLtvWXgYP7kJahV11FqMkIt6tVkfsBw80Jw8MIOZOCoJSLzFWIypsuNuRJ04znzPZCQAjw4aULiBI8vN2lqKZk80qiRs1UOVsdeTYTg6X86ESuNWdNywyI7Yutja/s1600/cricket+cartoon+snap.tiff" height="320" width="223" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">I want to do something special with Cricket for her 2-month life celebration. Trying to figure out what that is. She's like the person I can be the MOST romantic with and not feel embarrassed. Romantic of - a bed covered in rose petals cheesy-ness. And God, how I love it. I love being a mother. From the planning of new adventures; like the creation of the 1st edition of the 'Kriket Kronikles' photo-comic book to the Scrap-book experiment (I bought the paper and stickers dammit- that's a step in the right direction) to the planning of elaborately colourful nights (watch this space month 2 life celebration!!!). I love my version of mommy-ing. And she seems to as well. Anybody else would be suffocated by the attention. But Cricket is mine; all mine! - cue evil laughter. (Yes, I realize she will grow up and not be as malleable to my whims as she is now, so I'm taking full advantage of her age).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">I bought her, her first children's books. Tinga Tinga tales. Stuff like 'how the leopard got his spots/ why the giraffe's neck is so long' type stories with beautifully illustrated cartoons. I start reading this week. Fek, we're starting a whole goodnight routine. ("They" say it's the best way to put a baby to sleep). Right now I'm just tied up about the first novel I will read to her. Her father wants to read 'Around the World in 80 Days' and I want to read her 'Assata' (the autobiography) instead. My argument; her fists are already clenched. I would (of course) balance the Assata Shakur readings with Tinga Tinga tales (like a good mother would). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Next dilemma - dealing with the deep searching questions like... Do I want her to learn about Greek gods before say Hindu gods? Will hers be a chronological education (in the calendar according to the Anglo-Saxon) or a traditional one that relates the past to lineage, seasons and names not indelible dates. I think the traditional chronology of things makes time collapsable rather than linear. Seasons repeat. Children are named after their grand-parents. Life is revolving, re-incarnated. My daughter is my mother because they share the same name - Wanjiku. So, in essence, I am my grandmother's age mate because I gave birth to my mother.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-N6c0NPP8ngLrMEL0Ut567Ls4rNA5ASG3Fgomg8_0WJim-54souAJ7g3v4bN3M5DG-1FYnk3LvfBPS2qBXWKZcsLIGn_Ae2DW4FpYA8nGqslcIryyqmnt24x8fqb-gICpqBAmRx7QPpX/s1600/IMG_0670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-N6c0NPP8ngLrMEL0Ut567Ls4rNA5ASG3Fgomg8_0WJim-54souAJ7g3v4bN3M5DG-1FYnk3LvfBPS2qBXWKZcsLIGn_Ae2DW4FpYA8nGqslcIryyqmnt24x8fqb-gICpqBAmRx7QPpX/s1600/IMG_0670.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">And let's not even start on images and music! How does one expose their child to the 'right' type of art? Must one be a purist about these things? Classical before Jazz? Basquiat before Wangechi? Jay-Z before Kanye? How does one even begin to explain to one's child the importance of RunDMC and Kenny Rodgers (we Kenyans sure love our country music) in the evolutionary chain? This influencing of a child comes with great responsibilities!!! It is already more than feed-change-lullaby-change-</span><wbr style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"></wbr><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">lullaby-play-play -change (yes, there is alot of shiii... (ahem)... poop) -repeat monotony I thought it would be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><br /></span></div>
</span>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-11283331379330041092013-01-18T14:03:00.000+03:002013-01-18T14:03:26.871+03:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRhQlYZBN_mEySO7gA9cOciq8bbzV1Gz2rtxue2alokyYgcbPq8veLs-nd3Z-OMnhLKlxrp5gzuiyIc7ulB6dtmPQm9x_oGm2LTlRVfYCl07Zc_y-MsZp0vs0pKCVgKWJ186eXCG_Cktb/s1600/IMG_0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRhQlYZBN_mEySO7gA9cOciq8bbzV1Gz2rtxue2alokyYgcbPq8veLs-nd3Z-OMnhLKlxrp5gzuiyIc7ulB6dtmPQm9x_oGm2LTlRVfYCl07Zc_y-MsZp0vs0pKCVgKWJ186eXCG_Cktb/s1600/IMG_0614.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
An afternoon nap<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Y2LO90A-mVoWQw5Yr6HSywQf37NF5k2EcbFRFBFZeEq24UzWjigJAtFxk4zW4gQ0spFco8u4xAp2Igp0MuH2nHaVy5gM46aVcwMT1Jk5ESpvR-NjIptSys4doGeTfgFNYcG8nDHIXL0c/s1600/IMG_0064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Y2LO90A-mVoWQw5Yr6HSywQf37NF5k2EcbFRFBFZeEq24UzWjigJAtFxk4zW4gQ0spFco8u4xAp2Igp0MuH2nHaVy5gM46aVcwMT1Jk5ESpvR-NjIptSys4doGeTfgFNYcG8nDHIXL0c/s1600/IMG_0064.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Car seat blues</div>
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<br />Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-20407955758244882072013-01-18T13:56:00.000+03:002013-01-18T14:22:40.545+03:00cricket's arrival<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The truth is I didn't recognize her when she came out. She didn't look like anyone from my memory or dreams. But it had to be her, I was the only one in the operating theatre and her father had watched the whole thing. The nurse showed me the tag around her wrist that was meant to dispel the last trace of doubt.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'See, it says Wanuri Kahiu'.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">I remember thinking - but that's wrong. That's MY name. And that's not me (as they put her on my chest).</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">'Why Wanuri?' </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">'Because she's your daughter.'</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">
</span></span>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And just like that they handed me a stranger and told me to look after her for the rest of my life. Or hers.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">
</span>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do they even know me well enough to do that?</span></span></span></div>
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</span>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-82696414197576691062013-01-18T13:33:00.000+03:002013-01-18T13:33:18.093+03:00<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 24</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">We went to New York this week, darling Cricket. That makes this the 3rd country we have travelled to together. In true groupie fashion, we travelled 19 hours to follow one of my </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">favorite</span><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"> bands. </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">Strangely</span><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"> enough, I was first introduced to their music years ago by your father. He has already added this film we are creating about the band to work he has inspired. The band now call you "Just A Baby", rightly so, considering you are their youngest fan. You dance to the sound of their music often enough for me to know how much you enjoy it. Anjali (who has promised a lifetime of baby-sitting services) and I are co-directing a "Fractionally fictional, Afro-futuristic, indie, musical documentary" about them. So, here we are, standing in an over-crowded summer NY subway, limbs stretched, belly out, gripping all manner of hand/ overhead rails trying to keep upright despite my shifting centre of gravity.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Darling belly, I confess I have used you during this trip. When 'Just A Band' were playing their Summerstage concert in Central Park, I found ways to rub the belly enough to provoke people to bring me water, give up the very rare and much cherished spot in the shade and even allowed me to jump to the front of the ice-cream line. But it surprised me that you could turn even the hardest, business minded New Yorkist into a sensitive, subway-chair-offerer. It astounds me that you already provoke such love and gentility in strangers.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">That same love and attention was demonstrated when we met one of my all time heroes, the enchanting, luminous Dream Hampton. She has offered to look after you while I shoot my next film. What LOVE is that?</span></span></span><br />
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-20319104544918427362012-10-23T02:22:00.000+03:002012-11-19T19:10:24.002+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 22</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I will </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">embarrass you darling Cricket. I will. I work from feeling, not obligation. I walk barefoot in malls (living the barefoot and pregnant stereotype) unapologetically. I got this from your grandmother. She has child-like quirks that still wonder-fill me. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">She says it's because she never went to nursery school, so she's making up for a lost childhood. Like her, we both make up stories and numerous ways to answer the question 'Why?'.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">You will be named after your grandmother, as Gikuyu tradition dictates. And she was named after her grandmother. And like you, she was the first born and named after her mother's mother. This will mean something in years to come. The way you are named will raise questions about your lineage. All this will add to the fullness of you. Above everything, trust the miracle of your being. You come from a strong line of women. Like my Grandmother Wariara, who taught me the art of loving fearlessly and my Grandmother Wanuri whose strength continues to teach me resilience. Soon, you will make my grandmother a great grandmother. You will be her first great grandchild. One day you will understand what I am only beginning to realize, the privilege of knowing your lineage, the strength of the name you hold and the pride that lies in naming your ancestors. By bringing you into this world, I give birth to my mother. And should you and the Universe conspire, you will give birth to your ancestors too. And knowing that makes me want to work harder to become a person worthy of being named. </span></span></span></div>
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-14027992851770392092012-10-23T00:40:00.001+03:002012-10-23T02:26:53.995+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 19</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I saw you today. The madness of technology. A 3D scan showed your everything. Your little face with its ickle eyes and nose. And thank God you inherited your father's nose. In time before time, before you were a spec in our imagination, I had asked the Universe to gift any children we had with his nose and my sense of timing. For your father, time is fluid and measured in spaces between working at the hospital. Be wary of the phrase 'I'm just going to see one patient', there is no such thing.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Your father calls you 'Cricket' because of how much you move at night. Maybe you get that from me.</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Night has always been my most creative and vulnerable time. It's where secrets uncover themselves and desires are unsheathed. It is a time for longing and meditation. If you are indeed cricket-like, enjoy the silence of night and the patience of the wind between trees. I wish for you my sweet that you think of yourself as a part of the stars and that you learn to exhale the day away. The day is long and cumbersome and thinks only of its pursuits. The night is soft and warm. Sing its song my love and it will find a million ways to join in your melody. </span><br />
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-63716085605534791232012-10-23T00:18:00.001+03:002012-10-23T00:19:42.453+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 18</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I was lying in my bed and felt something move. I lifted up the sheets to make sure there was nothing in the bed crawling against me. There wasn't. It must have been you! You moved! What a thing! My brave, beautiful child. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">This week I worked on my first commercial. Our first job together. We worked on a P&G Olympic commercial that celebrates Mums. Their tagline "Proud Sponsors of Mums". How apt! I met and interviews mothers of Olympians Catherine Ndereba and Moses Masai. What stood out the most is their resolve to ensure that their children followed their happiness. Despite the challenges and in spite of what the rest of their community said, they stood for their children. They fought for them. So, darling heart, this is my contract, to allow you the freedom to pursue your happiness... within measure. </span></span></span><br />
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-19014533558721753142012-10-23T00:08:00.000+03:002012-10-23T00:08:50.859+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 16</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I just had another 'Oh, My God, I'm pregnant' moment. They creep up on you. For a moment I'm just going about my regular business and forget that something significant has changed. I still have no symptoms, so it's easy enough to forget. Until I pass a mirror and a person who looks like me has a belly. It's always such a surprise. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I bought a home foetal monitor to listen to your heartbeat. It's weird. My belly has a heart. Nothing feels more sci-fi-ish than another body growing inside you. Now I watch people and think of all the bellies they lived in and emerged from and think of you living in mine. Who will you be? What can I sing, dance to or laugh at to make sure you are the most beautiful being I have known? I can't wait for us to figure it all out together. </span></span></span><br />
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-62736163209582312482012-10-22T23:23:00.000+03:002012-10-22T23:50:45.427+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 14</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I remember when your Aunt Nazizi was pregnant and she tracked every symptom, feeling, question via google. I thought it was hilarious. A google pregnancy. Yea, not so funny anymore. My pregnancy is probably more google sponsored than hers. Everything from symptoms was plugged into the search engine. I joined 3 weekly pregnancy update sites that send details about your development (measured by the size of fruit and vegetable) and you are currently lemon-sized. It also says you can squint, frown, grimace - although I wonder about the reasons I may be giving you that may provoke any of that. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">But dearest heart, my warning to you - beware of the noisy world of the inter web. In it lies more information than you ever need to know. It also allows for far too much access and thins the lines of privacy. Trust my direction and the HEAVY parental password locks I will put on all electronic gadgetry for longer than you think necessary. And should you think me to be unfair or irrational, know that I have no problem carrying that mantle as long as you are safe. And although you will quickly outgrow your lemon proportions, I will always want to guard you as if you were in the protective cave of my belly. </span></div>
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-1980716588769243822012-08-28T12:58:00.000+03:002012-08-28T17:12:26.328+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 12</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">We made it!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">We got through the tricky first trimester where you decide to commit to this world for longer. I am scared to get excited by you. What if I jinx the possibility of us?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">This is the week I start to tell others. The people who are in my life. I find the hardest people to talk to about you are those whose destinies seemed linked with mine. The ones who I made unspoken promises of a maybe future with. The ones who expected you to come through them. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Your Tata Jovi says you will start to make it clear who will stay around and who will leave. You will be the catalyst that exposes people in their truest form. And for those who stay, God knows how much they will love you!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">About God. I have to say, you make God closer, more real, more tangible. Maybe because I know you still exist as much in his world as you do in mine. Maybe it's because you are beyond my control. No matter how great my desire, you will not be because I decide but because of the promise you make with the Most High. Your relationship with the Oversoul has started. One that I hope I can guide but will never be a part of.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I speak to you both every night. And what beauty abounds in the conversations we have. Have I thanked you both today? No? Well... My Beloved and my Beloved's Beloved, thank you for existing. You make me whole.</span></div>
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-73979547621885884012012-08-26T13:22:00.000+03:002012-08-26T13:22:13.388+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 11</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I promise you honesty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">We went for our first MAJOR scan today. The doctor says you're a girl. A healthy, all limbs, all fingers, pure human. I saw you. You moved. Your hand waved. I feel a ways about you being a girl. I have had to sit with the feeling and decipher it. I worry that you will know the pain of unbearable heartache. I guess I naively assumed that you would be spared from this as a boy. But, my Sweet, life has heartache that doesn't discriminate. And so, we will have to love harder because of it. We will out love. We will over love, so that we can be the balance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">There was a time I worried about being a mother because bringing a new life into this world would be selfish. But that was before Lorraine Hansberry's words transformed me. She wrote;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><i>"I wish to live because life has within it that which is good, that which is beautiful and that which is love. Therefore, since I have known all of these things, I have found them to be reason enough and—I wish to live. Moreover, because this is so, I wish others to live for generations and generations and generations."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">You are here, and you are Love. How can you not be celebrated?</span></span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-81959312307508479912012-08-26T13:16:00.000+03:002012-08-26T13:22:55.528+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 10</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Thank you for my daily naps.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">We're staying in a flat in Cape Town. From it you can hear the long horn call of the ships and the lull of the Ocean. I have taken to calling you my 'honey bunches of cells'. Your not old enough to be a baby, and foetus sounds like something that remains after your body has purged. Your beautiful Uncle Nick is here. And like me, he's convinced you're a boy. You must be. Given the time you came into my life. You marked the transition of a man I have loved long and hard who changed the course of my life, in the same way he changed the history of Kenya; by inspiring strength and courage. So, if my Guka brought you forth, you must be a boy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">On my walks, I see little boys with locks and imagine you. How do you feel about locks? My parents (your grandparents) would hate it. But gosh, to be a little Rasta and learn how to navigate the world of difference, then what a strong, courageous spirit we would grow. Come quick, darling heart, we have adventures calling.</span></span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-64222263232211538542012-08-26T13:10:00.000+03:002012-08-26T13:11:12.035+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 7</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I guess you're real. It's been confirmed with all sorts of body fluid tests. Blood, urine... My doctor thinks I should be on bed rest for the 1st three months. And take supplements. 2 to 3 times a day. I still have no symptoms. And I want to leave Nairobi for a while. Take a breather. So, we plan your second trip -to Cape Town. We are off to write and sleep and dream. By the time we're back, the first trimester will be done.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">This week I also told your Cucu (grandmother) that you are coming. She was so happy. She cried. She said what I have been thinking, you are my inheritance, the last thing my Guka (grandfather) did for me. He brought you, guided you through God's world into mine. My blessed child. My miracle baby. You came for me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">The week he transitioned, the week before your creation, I read a passage from Kahlil Gibran's "The Forerunner" over and over. I think these are the words that ushered you in:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><i> "When you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a wandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness dreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space without measure.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><i> And when you were a silent word upon Life's quivering lips, I too was there, another silent word. Then Life uttered us and we came down the years throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for tomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth pursued."</i></span></span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-47996422661097194882012-08-26T13:01:00.001+03:002012-08-26T13:01:18.392+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 5</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Your first trip was to Nigeria. We hadn't been to the doctors yet to confirm but I felt you, real as my own heart. I had no symptoms, no nausea, no mood shifts, nothing. Just the feeling of you. I remember two things: The Femi Kuti concert at 'The Shrine' where people sat in plastic broken chairs on cracked concrete floors and watched skate board bound men dance. They would lift each other once in a while to pound Femi's fist. Femi (part social justice preacher, part musician) would stop the music once in a while to make his point clear. "Why do Police in Nigeria wear white, when they do not bring peace?" His music was properly call and response, quite unlike the nowadays 'when I say..., you say...' redundancy. People wanted to respond. They needed to add their voices to his. They understood. He was talking/singing about them. He belonged to them, just like his father did. Their bodies, hearts, minds responded with 'ololololo' even before the sounds burst out of their mouths. We left just as his song BANG BANG BANG started... 'She said hold me now...'</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">The second thing I remember is trying to call your father on a rusty line with the hotel's local Jazz trio playing in the background. I was trying to tell him you exist. It was a series of 'what?' and 'can you hear me' before the static quietened and the message was delivered. 'I'm pregnant'. The words froze time as we knew it and locked it into a new space. The 'I'm pregnant' space. And after the words stilled the air, I heard your father's laughter run down the line.</span></span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-30502274795036506782012-08-26T12:51:00.001+03:002012-08-26T13:35:44.053+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">#SingleBelly post:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">WEEK 3</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">Your Tata (Aunt) Wangari stared at the closed bathroom door as if trying to conjure up her x-ray vision special power, while your Aunt Rebecca prepared extra glasses of water downstairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">I, stuck in the bathroom, waiting minutes/hours/centuries for the line/ happy face/ tick to appear (I had an array of different tests, from the local cheap pharmacy kind to the expensive 'foreign' type imported just for an occasion like this). This moment was not making sense. Me, standing here staring at pee-ed on sticks. At least 3 doctors had said that conception is tricky at best given the problems in my female parts. AND darling child, I had thought up all the different ways you would exist. And in my mind's eye, we would have a couple more things in place. Like, say a partner...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.499999046325684px;">A year before you came, you visited me in dream-space. And when I woke after the dream, I missed you. You alone. The possibility of you. Now here we are waiting on some plastic litmus-type apparatus to determine our future. And there you are, 2 lines, one tick and one smiling face. Alive. Shouting your arrival. And I love you already.</span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-79925104017746778492012-08-25T00:16:00.001+03:002012-08-26T12:55:33.881+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
#SingleBelly posts:<br />
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I felt like this today:<br />
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Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-74898202178529147662012-08-25T00:01:00.001+03:002012-08-26T13:26:44.135+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">#SingleBelly post:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I sent this to your father:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I have my mother's mouth and my father's eyes,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So on my face they are still together."</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> -</i> Warsan Shire</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And that is enough for me.</span></div>
Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-41108819435247253332011-08-17T16:18:00.009+03:002011-08-21T12:54:17.505+03:00I have no super powers<div style="text-align: justify;">(We are) Unkissed lips Cold arms (You are) Gone Never was Bare Naked Scrapped (I feel) Human-like</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have no super powers</div>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-13044358741740851192011-07-28T16:40:00.006+03:002011-07-28T18:33:47.421+03:00Mates - A short love story<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">Awake. Awake. Awake. She repeats the mantra as if trying to will herself out of dream space. She knows the lines and the contours of sleep, the safety of beds and the uncertainty of all else. Even in the security of marriage, she does not know what the day brings. Will it be laughter or pain? Will it be dependent on the people who inevitably intrude into her psyche or will it be him? Him. Him. Him. She repeats his name, licking the taste of it in the cave of her mouth. How could she have ever known? When could she have ever loved more than now, in this moment? And still, why was she so resistant?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">She turned back to the first words she heard that morning. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">“You can be what you are required to be, just give in.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">What did that even mean? Sometimes she questioned if he knew her more than she knew herself. If her secrets were only known to him and hidden from her. That’s impossible. Awake. Awake. Awake.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">The creamy porridge bubbled, filling the room with faint scents of cloves, cinnamon and rich coconut. Outside the window, green papaya hung heavy like breasts waiting to be squeezed. From a distance she could smell the rush of the ocean. Maybe there was time to drown beneath the salt before the day set in. The ripe orange papaya sliced open easily. A dark red belly, a tart lemon, black shiny seeds carefully emptied and composted and tree tomatoes beside. The plate looked so sensual that the colours made her blush. He would be out soon. He would be close soon. She could feel him as if he was a second skin hovering around hers. They were mates. Deeply entwined from points beyond past lifetimes. She marveled that they still knew each other. That they had found each other, many forms, many ages, many centuries later. And it was still the same. As it always was. So why the doubt?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">She stood in front of him. He smiled as she fiddled with the fruit, arranging it on the plate. Stark rich shades of red against the tangy yellow against the turquoise plate. It would all be over so soon, leaving only skins and peels behind but still he was glad that she painstakingly tried to perfect the perfect. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">He knew she felt him. Her spine curved to welcome his embrace. He was steady and awake. Alert from his meditation. He curled around her, noticing her fragility. Her strength was a guise. She needed him. He could tell by the way she leaned into his weight. And for a moment they both re-membered their oneness. Their beginning had no end and their end a new beginning.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">“So? We going swimming. I want to be a shellfish today.” She smiled</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-1796034947517616972011-06-28T15:01:00.004+03:002011-07-01T10:20:08.648+03:00Tarifa, Spain June 2011<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WeHtBSHun7Gse6z9XvLpTp-OpiUTFbPMewrRB4mRPYDHLnXT1PBO1bN3etGO65SBjlEPaluXOBEMGu6KlmOKTyrpRRnK4mmWVFxGIuxXzeDKwdm58kwFKlE7nP6Q60aUqKLRvqv6oWA4/s1600/IMG_0211.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WeHtBSHun7Gse6z9XvLpTp-OpiUTFbPMewrRB4mRPYDHLnXT1PBO1bN3etGO65SBjlEPaluXOBEMGu6KlmOKTyrpRRnK4mmWVFxGIuxXzeDKwdm58kwFKlE7nP6Q60aUqKLRvqv6oWA4/s320/IMG_0211.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623240191063951554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhJuuUCb_y6108kOwGyvGJoVJpyYVu_jhoITw6DEvtLJnG3APMqrm4zUPixZE0GF9_TwdE4hCE01YGqCzjjYthvVjTWBNSvwgW77JxF4Umcm8gpocHviN18FkdjCiwxAmRRHbqikSi8ja/s1600/IMG_0213.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilK3oj2i_jMPYK6HK7svtI1eRMO9xyIKzwBMoYuTlTsE86gEW8xeNLdEryyL4wwpKKMKAfs3tYLMIZXbvA18aZQ_AKD735myRawhejsCBk7pYKeDJMc94XL_6gmwXq9BvfGX2Qfw_f14o9/s320/IMG_0230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623239186450292002" /></a>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-48247507925628056352011-05-23T10:07:00.003+03:002011-06-30T09:37:10.190+03:00Naivasha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQldUY3bntiBBdreR7f-iZzlIYJUCqsaNu4G_t7v91jcRm6kbqScPInn9NHOW3fA_H51c21MXHnIyFBxKnGAwcWErkWYefIfFcy7TlCpqTOS9yZ08SzgxBa8BDAxf2SRdT2C4rXq7y9u_/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQldUY3bntiBBdreR7f-iZzlIYJUCqsaNu4G_t7v91jcRm6kbqScPInn9NHOW3fA_H51c21MXHnIyFBxKnGAwcWErkWYefIfFcy7TlCpqTOS9yZ08SzgxBa8BDAxf2SRdT2C4rXq7y9u_/s320/IMG_0192.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609805016433791794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcd1_3N-HmsCe3mnmY1a7SQ00SvPiFkVR1846eR3sUXxxJOq-lGd2P2f_VTqPsfPk44LH-x8vP8oK1Ec56DjsvPCqAvodGaA0s-5oY5u-psMZPetylG_8PsW4T2c58ipBhygxkS69OZ7P/s1600/IMG_0197.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcd1_3N-HmsCe3mnmY1a7SQ00SvPiFkVR1846eR3sUXxxJOq-lGd2P2f_VTqPsfPk44LH-x8vP8oK1Ec56DjsvPCqAvodGaA0s-5oY5u-psMZPetylG_8PsW4T2c58ipBhygxkS69OZ7P/s320/IMG_0197.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609805010000616786" /></a>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-19322313479491571052011-05-19T11:29:00.003+03:002011-07-01T10:34:50.085+03:00London in May<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nztuqZ5c1ZZOhVTESmsss_pNx-k33sh_HnwVFDwiDkN6EGRxfgmew77iRvIfDccJ9T8EasWTN-byzhpP-wa3yEO1l_1WkzvKgydVtx5-mIjNo6Inn1pokp-jld00GPl20_sTfEq0WrWy/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26O1RNZEI79UXDh30Dj6y5DjMZLhU8p8Vc80kohIWRbs27cMmkNKMigUFlpsU9wWQWWKu9Cu4_uD3VkDwMWEYlBcIW0uYR4WngiGtKVmgLl0vCae6S9kafr6IZtmwUTTz3Uu-AOhEzBQ8/s320/IMG_0186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608341902463779810" /></a>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6795438605023011469.post-1469394739012238362011-05-08T21:43:00.015+03:002011-07-28T18:36:35.983+03:00A Moon SongI see you<br />Beautifully harassed by life<br />Thought tangled<br />On a balcony edge<br />Behind an ocean<br />That wrestles its own surf.<br />You sit<br />Feet sunk in sand<br />Resistant<br />To waves crashing<br />Against your heels.<div><br />I,<br />The moon<br />(seven times bright today)<br />Calls with mpenzi moan:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">'Come with me and ride<br />Kaskazi heights where<br />I silver fill you<br />Protecting you from<br />Golden foe's rays that keep you<br />From chasing fish-es'</span><br /><br />Instead<br />You watch<br />As I lift to orange heights<br />Trailing a glistening mermaid tail<br />On the bluegrey horizon<br />Of endless possibilities.</div>Wanurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09158353967686160132noreply@blogger.com3