I'm constantly changing my blog title - it's crazy!
I guess that says a lot about me; changing, searching, looking, longing ...
May 27, 2009
One fine Christmas afternoon
after a sumptuous meal with the family, Kongai took a stroll to the neighbor’s house where she engaged in a conversation with Nyeko the neighbor’s son. As they stood by the road side, laughing and exchanging pleasantries, the Toyota cruised down the street. Papa was coming home. He nodded, acknowledging that he’d seen them then drove home and immediately parked the car in the garage. Mostly he left the car in the compound for a while, this time there was some sort of urgency. Without stepping in the house, he walked out the gate like someone in urgent need of a restroom, as though he wanted to sprint but was trying to keep his cool. He walked up to Kongai and Nyeko and said;- “Kongai, you know it’s not polite for the two of you to stand at the road side as though you were homeless. Why don’t you come into the sitting room?” Nyeko sensed trouble, his six pack chest was heaving faster than he would have liked. Kongai on the other hand, always trusting and papa’s favorite daughter, didn’t see anything to it. She gladly obliged.
When they walked in the door, papa requested the rest of the kids to go play some place else. He said they had important issues to discuss and therefore needed some privacy. Kongai and Nyeko glanced at each other with questioning looks. After asking the maid to give them each a drink, he sat down on the opposite side of the room. Curiosity got the better of Kasai, so he snack into his parent’s bedroom and pressed his ear hard against the door. He could hear the conversation loud and clear. On occasion he peeked through the key hole and as luck would have it, he could see all three of them, strategically situated for his benefit, like pieces on a chess board.
“So Nyeko, how are you?
“I’m fine sir”
“Kongai, you know my house is always open to your friends” “Yes papa” “So why were you standing by the road side like two homeless orphans?” He picked up his glass slowly, took a sip of beer and leaned back in the sofa like he was getting ready to hear the most profound explanation. Kongai was fidgeting with her fingers, avoiding eye contact. Kasai could feel the tension sipping through that key hole, clogging it at points. He also began to develop tiny beads of sweat on his fore head. The silence was deafening. Then to his relief and am sure Nyeko’s too, Kongai begun - “We… well, I didn’t think we would be out there for long … we hadn’t been out there for lo… I was just saying Merry Christmas and was about to come home when you saw us”. Papa nodded his head, as if in agreement, then he said “Nyeko?” “Yes sir” “What were you discussing?”
By this point Nyeko’s shirt was drenched in sweat; one could swear he had been running a marathon. He hadn’t touched the class of juice set for him but I’m sure he wanted to gallop it down and ask for more. His Adam’s apple moved erratically like it was searching for something in his neck. He cleared his throat, tried to moisten his tongue that had long dried up, and then made a motion as if to speak but there was no sound. On second attempt he said “nothing much sir”. Papa’s eyes were now cherry-ish black - some what light maroon.
“Nothing?! What do you mean ‘nothing!’? You were standing out there for a good while. ‘Nothing?!’ So you both left home to have a staring competition at the road side? That is ridiculous!”
Papa suddenly sprung out of his chair like he’d been stung by a swarm of bees.
He kicked the stool with his glass of beer out of his way and headed straight for Nyeko. By the time papa sprung, Nyeko, who had already been in the “get set” position both in body and mind, quickly ducked behind his chair. His sprint for the front door was punctuated by “I’m sori sa, I’m rilly sori”. He jumped over the table in the middle of the sitting room; swerving to dodge a slipper that papa had sent his way.
Papa shouted “Leave my daughter alone! do you hear me?” - all the while running after Nyeko. Nyeko pushed another chair to the side as he grabbed the handle of the front door. The journey from his sit to the door was several miles longer than he recalled. He must have been praying that the door was unlocked,or he would be roasted.
He tagged once and the door flung open, just as papa was about to grab him.
Nyeko run like he was being chased by a pack of lions, he didn’t look back.
All the commotion sprayed the other children out of their hiding places.
Papa, his coat flying behind him like a super hero, was chasing Nyeko, telling him never to come back; Kongai lifting her dress for easier movement was chasing papa urging him to stop. Mama who had been silently working in the kitchen was now standing at the door, hands on her chest, with a concerned look on her face while the rest of the children scampered for the best angle from behind her. Neighbors were peering out of windows, passer-by's fascinated by the drama that had all over a sudden presented it self. Indeed it was a sight to behold on a cool Christmas afternoon.
When they walked in the door, papa requested the rest of the kids to go play some place else. He said they had important issues to discuss and therefore needed some privacy. Kongai and Nyeko glanced at each other with questioning looks. After asking the maid to give them each a drink, he sat down on the opposite side of the room. Curiosity got the better of Kasai, so he snack into his parent’s bedroom and pressed his ear hard against the door. He could hear the conversation loud and clear. On occasion he peeked through the key hole and as luck would have it, he could see all three of them, strategically situated for his benefit, like pieces on a chess board.
“So Nyeko, how are you?
“I’m fine sir”
“Kongai, you know my house is always open to your friends” “Yes papa” “So why were you standing by the road side like two homeless orphans?” He picked up his glass slowly, took a sip of beer and leaned back in the sofa like he was getting ready to hear the most profound explanation. Kongai was fidgeting with her fingers, avoiding eye contact. Kasai could feel the tension sipping through that key hole, clogging it at points. He also began to develop tiny beads of sweat on his fore head. The silence was deafening. Then to his relief and am sure Nyeko’s too, Kongai begun - “We… well, I didn’t think we would be out there for long … we hadn’t been out there for lo… I was just saying Merry Christmas and was about to come home when you saw us”. Papa nodded his head, as if in agreement, then he said “Nyeko?” “Yes sir” “What were you discussing?”
By this point Nyeko’s shirt was drenched in sweat; one could swear he had been running a marathon. He hadn’t touched the class of juice set for him but I’m sure he wanted to gallop it down and ask for more. His Adam’s apple moved erratically like it was searching for something in his neck. He cleared his throat, tried to moisten his tongue that had long dried up, and then made a motion as if to speak but there was no sound. On second attempt he said “nothing much sir”. Papa’s eyes were now cherry-ish black - some what light maroon.
“Nothing?! What do you mean ‘nothing!’? You were standing out there for a good while. ‘Nothing?!’ So you both left home to have a staring competition at the road side? That is ridiculous!”
Papa suddenly sprung out of his chair like he’d been stung by a swarm of bees.
He kicked the stool with his glass of beer out of his way and headed straight for Nyeko. By the time papa sprung, Nyeko, who had already been in the “get set” position both in body and mind, quickly ducked behind his chair. His sprint for the front door was punctuated by “I’m sori sa, I’m rilly sori”. He jumped over the table in the middle of the sitting room; swerving to dodge a slipper that papa had sent his way.
Papa shouted “Leave my daughter alone! do you hear me?” - all the while running after Nyeko. Nyeko pushed another chair to the side as he grabbed the handle of the front door. The journey from his sit to the door was several miles longer than he recalled. He must have been praying that the door was unlocked,or he would be roasted.
He tagged once and the door flung open, just as papa was about to grab him.
Nyeko run like he was being chased by a pack of lions, he didn’t look back.
All the commotion sprayed the other children out of their hiding places.
Papa, his coat flying behind him like a super hero, was chasing Nyeko, telling him never to come back; Kongai lifting her dress for easier movement was chasing papa urging him to stop. Mama who had been silently working in the kitchen was now standing at the door, hands on her chest, with a concerned look on her face while the rest of the children scampered for the best angle from behind her. Neighbors were peering out of windows, passer-by's fascinated by the drama that had all over a sudden presented it self. Indeed it was a sight to behold on a cool Christmas afternoon.
May 23, 2009
Hair woes
Aya! Hair maintenance in this country is for pain and going broke.
Having to pay over a 300k to get my hair braided makes me want to break down and cry, especially when I think I could get the same job, no, a better job done back home for a quarter of the price. But my options are few.
If I was sharp I would have learned to braid my own hair – I can’t cry over that now can I?
I chose to keep my hair chemical free because I didn’t want to go hunting in spooky zones for salons that could handle this African hair; And again, "self chemicaling" was not / is not an option.
So, when I was in Uganda I expressly implored Nicole to do an efficient job of braiding because my hair was not going to see a comb for 6 months minimum. Okay, I know that may raise eye brows but, I wash it every so often and I don’t have to suffer with dust and things of that nature.
The 6 months are up and I automatically engaged the panic gear.
Obviously people don’t undo braids without a plan, so I held that off for a month and relied on bandanas, hair bands and nice caps until a friend, in no uncertain terms asked me to "style up". Damn! Gone are the days when I could walk through Philly and not bother one bit because a) nobody knew me, b) nobody really cared, c) they probably thought it was some fashion; you know how Africans can get away with out combing – mbu fashion.
When my problems begun to glare and I was seriously convicted, I decided I would unbraid and then do nice neat dreads. Okay, so dreads are not exactly my thing but I could get away with it, right? - wrong. I locked them myself – first mistake, this style is high maintenance – twisting the locks all the time? uh uh!.
I did toots for a few days and covered up when I went to church but really that had to be temporary.
Play time was over I had to find a salon. The first place had a Gambian who was too busy to give me sufficient attention. She seemed to make up the price while we talked so that made me suspicious but I could tell she had serious potential gauging from the head I saw, so I put her on pause.
In the second place, I was greeted by a heavily made-up long nailed woman who had the “all the single ladies” kind of attitude – in the Beyonce video? with the hand movement – oh oh oh oh. Anyway she put me off.
At the third place, the lady didn’t even look up. She showed me the prices on the wall and that was it – yeah! Whatever.
Your guess may be as good as mine, no? – Anyway I went with lady number 1, something about her coming from the “motherland”.
I set the date and went to the salon but being from the “motherland” she clearly had the “lateness” disease. I waited 3 hours before she showed up; I was glad her salon was next to the library otherwise she would have had a frustrated woman on her hands.
“Eh! My friend, you are welcom-ooh!” she said the plane delayed – she was coming back from a wedding in “Alana” (Atlanta - for those of you).
She made phone calls and ladies started trickling in, within 6 hours I was done. Time went by so fast - I guess because I was entertained with the conversations that went on.
At some point the salon was an interesting representation of Africa – there was an Ivorian, a Gambian, a Nigerian, a Tanzanian and a Ugandan – yours truly of course.
The lady who braided my hair made sure every strand was locked in and for a week now I have been moving painfully around with a tight scalp and a constant look of surprise on my face – makes me look like I botoxed my forehead eeish!!
Having to pay over a 300k to get my hair braided makes me want to break down and cry, especially when I think I could get the same job, no, a better job done back home for a quarter of the price. But my options are few.
If I was sharp I would have learned to braid my own hair – I can’t cry over that now can I?
I chose to keep my hair chemical free because I didn’t want to go hunting in spooky zones for salons that could handle this African hair; And again, "self chemicaling" was not / is not an option.
So, when I was in Uganda I expressly implored Nicole to do an efficient job of braiding because my hair was not going to see a comb for 6 months minimum. Okay, I know that may raise eye brows but, I wash it every so often and I don’t have to suffer with dust and things of that nature.
The 6 months are up and I automatically engaged the panic gear.
Obviously people don’t undo braids without a plan, so I held that off for a month and relied on bandanas, hair bands and nice caps until a friend, in no uncertain terms asked me to "style up". Damn! Gone are the days when I could walk through Philly and not bother one bit because a) nobody knew me, b) nobody really cared, c) they probably thought it was some fashion; you know how Africans can get away with out combing – mbu fashion.
When my problems begun to glare and I was seriously convicted, I decided I would unbraid and then do nice neat dreads. Okay, so dreads are not exactly my thing but I could get away with it, right? - wrong. I locked them myself – first mistake, this style is high maintenance – twisting the locks all the time? uh uh!.
I did toots for a few days and covered up when I went to church but really that had to be temporary.
Play time was over I had to find a salon. The first place had a Gambian who was too busy to give me sufficient attention. She seemed to make up the price while we talked so that made me suspicious but I could tell she had serious potential gauging from the head I saw, so I put her on pause.
In the second place, I was greeted by a heavily made-up long nailed woman who had the “all the single ladies” kind of attitude – in the Beyonce video? with the hand movement – oh oh oh oh. Anyway she put me off.
At the third place, the lady didn’t even look up. She showed me the prices on the wall and that was it – yeah! Whatever.
Your guess may be as good as mine, no? – Anyway I went with lady number 1, something about her coming from the “motherland”.
I set the date and went to the salon but being from the “motherland” she clearly had the “lateness” disease. I waited 3 hours before she showed up; I was glad her salon was next to the library otherwise she would have had a frustrated woman on her hands.
“Eh! My friend, you are welcom-ooh!” she said the plane delayed – she was coming back from a wedding in “Alana” (Atlanta - for those of you).
She made phone calls and ladies started trickling in, within 6 hours I was done. Time went by so fast - I guess because I was entertained with the conversations that went on.
At some point the salon was an interesting representation of Africa – there was an Ivorian, a Gambian, a Nigerian, a Tanzanian and a Ugandan – yours truly of course.
The lady who braided my hair made sure every strand was locked in and for a week now I have been moving painfully around with a tight scalp and a constant look of surprise on my face – makes me look like I botoxed my forehead eeish!!
May 21, 2009
Magical
As I walked to the library this morning I saw a beautiful flower.
When I past by 4 hours later I saw the most magical thing - it had folded up.
Then I saw some more interesting flowers.
When I past by 4 hours later I saw the most magical thing - it had folded up.
Then I saw some more interesting flowers.
May 19, 2009
Home drama
Every one in town knew the shiny blue Toyota Corolla, registration number -UVT 636.
It belonged to Daddy.
When he hooted at the gate we all scampered to clear any messes then run out to welcome him. The first there carried his briefcase, while slower folk shut the car doors and checked the boot – daddy always brought home something interesting.
I remember once he brought a beautiful bird that he found by the road – it had pretty colors.
I was all somersaulting (excited) thinking about making a bird cage, feeding it with millet grains, bread, and water – anything to keep it alive.
Another time, I opened the boot and found the cutest, most energetic puppy I ever saw.
Pearl (the name I christened her) took my breath away.
She wagged her tail, jumped up on me, licked my palms, chased me - Oh! it was just like destiny. That was the beginning of a long friendship.
Each day when I'd come home from school, Pearl would be eagerly waiting. She would wag her fluffy tail and tag at her chain as if to say "I missed you all day, you better get here quick or else this chain will be history". I would run up to her, pat her, run my fingers through her fur then head into the house to put down my bag and have a cup of tea.
Pearl would give me this sad look as if to say "Is that all? I waited all day and that's all you are giving me?... what you do to me!".
I know - a dog, yeah, wild stuff!
But then again, isn't that why they are called mans best friends?
Before I get all side tracked talking about Pearl, I was about to tell you an interesting tale about Daddy.
Hmmn, I guess that will have to wait till my next post.
I might as well dedicate this post to Pearl seeing as I'm almost half way.
So anyway, after tea, I'd change into my play clothes and run outside for some Pearl and me time.
She would chase me around the compound until I was rolling in the grass, laughing hysterically. Then she would sit up with her ears pointed, and tilt her head to the side, as if she was amazed at how much fun I was having. If I dared to get up, she was always on the ready to chase me again, then I would plead with her to stop.
Then, check this; one morning she decided to follow me and my brothers to school.
We used to walk, you see. School was not too far.
We kept yelling "Pearl go home!", she would turn to leave, but as soon as we begun to walk again, there she was trotting behind us.
She followed us, passed the golf course, through the valley and up to the school gate. I can't begin to describe the drama she caused. Kids were peeping through windows, standing on top of desks, others were screaming like they had already been bitten (kids imagination!).
We decided to ignore Pearl, we walked to class like we never knew her- she was on her own.
We got home that evening and there she was - tongue dripping, tail wagging, jumping up and down.
"Welcome home guys, you won't believe what kind of day I had. After dropping you off to school ...."
It belonged to Daddy.
When he hooted at the gate we all scampered to clear any messes then run out to welcome him. The first there carried his briefcase, while slower folk shut the car doors and checked the boot – daddy always brought home something interesting.
I remember once he brought a beautiful bird that he found by the road – it had pretty colors.
I was all somersaulting (excited) thinking about making a bird cage, feeding it with millet grains, bread, and water – anything to keep it alive.
Another time, I opened the boot and found the cutest, most energetic puppy I ever saw.
Pearl (the name I christened her) took my breath away.
She wagged her tail, jumped up on me, licked my palms, chased me - Oh! it was just like destiny. That was the beginning of a long friendship.
Each day when I'd come home from school, Pearl would be eagerly waiting. She would wag her fluffy tail and tag at her chain as if to say "I missed you all day, you better get here quick or else this chain will be history". I would run up to her, pat her, run my fingers through her fur then head into the house to put down my bag and have a cup of tea.
Pearl would give me this sad look as if to say "Is that all? I waited all day and that's all you are giving me?... what you do to me!".
I know - a dog, yeah, wild stuff!
But then again, isn't that why they are called mans best friends?
Before I get all side tracked talking about Pearl, I was about to tell you an interesting tale about Daddy.
Hmmn, I guess that will have to wait till my next post.
I might as well dedicate this post to Pearl seeing as I'm almost half way.
So anyway, after tea, I'd change into my play clothes and run outside for some Pearl and me time.
She would chase me around the compound until I was rolling in the grass, laughing hysterically. Then she would sit up with her ears pointed, and tilt her head to the side, as if she was amazed at how much fun I was having. If I dared to get up, she was always on the ready to chase me again, then I would plead with her to stop.
Then, check this; one morning she decided to follow me and my brothers to school.
We used to walk, you see. School was not too far.
We kept yelling "Pearl go home!", she would turn to leave, but as soon as we begun to walk again, there she was trotting behind us.
She followed us, passed the golf course, through the valley and up to the school gate. I can't begin to describe the drama she caused. Kids were peeping through windows, standing on top of desks, others were screaming like they had already been bitten (kids imagination!).
We decided to ignore Pearl, we walked to class like we never knew her- she was on her own.
We got home that evening and there she was - tongue dripping, tail wagging, jumping up and down.
"Welcome home guys, you won't believe what kind of day I had. After dropping you off to school ...."
May 17, 2009
Revelation Song
Filled with wonder, Awestruck wonder
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvelous mystery
Yeah...
(Chorus)
Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come, yeah
With all creation I sing:Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything, And – I - will - adore You!
We sang this song in worship today and I can't begin to explain the power that was released.
The freedom, the praise, the worship from my heart. I didn't come to church psyched and even singing this song didn't feel ooey gooey - it felt that the Holy Spirit was singing it through me.
Talk about a higher power.
(This might sound gibberish but there is no other way to explain it)
Certain lyrics are God inspired more than you could ever know - it's like the words themselves are so potent that saying them makes all the difference.
God, you are awesome.
I love you, I praise you, I adore you - above all.
You reign in glory and power, who can ever compare with you?
Break down the walls
Melt all the barriers to loving you and living for you
I want to be with you Lord
Part the waters,
Pave the way from here to you.
You are awesome and I love you.
Amen.
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvelous mystery
Yeah...
(Chorus)
Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come, yeah
With all creation I sing:Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything, And – I - will - adore You!
We sang this song in worship today and I can't begin to explain the power that was released.
The freedom, the praise, the worship from my heart. I didn't come to church psyched and even singing this song didn't feel ooey gooey - it felt that the Holy Spirit was singing it through me.
Talk about a higher power.
(This might sound gibberish but there is no other way to explain it)
Certain lyrics are God inspired more than you could ever know - it's like the words themselves are so potent that saying them makes all the difference.
God, you are awesome.
I love you, I praise you, I adore you - above all.
You reign in glory and power, who can ever compare with you?
Break down the walls
Melt all the barriers to loving you and living for you
I want to be with you Lord
Part the waters,
Pave the way from here to you.
You are awesome and I love you.
Amen.
May 14, 2009
Switch?
Ever wonder what life would have been if you had made different choices?
Trodden a different path? - the road less travelled? or the one with all the foot prints?
Ever wonder where you would have been if you had studied that and not this?
What sort of family you’d have if you’d married the other guy or lady?
Where you would be living? If you would be wealthy?
If you would be dating or planning to marry? (for those of you)
Or are you simply glad that you are where you are without any regrets - no "if’s", "ands" or "buts".
I was musing about this when I came across a story about two women who found out they were switched at birth;
Raised by people they called mom and dad only to realize decades later that even though mom and dad were mom and dad, they were not actually mom and dad. Didn't that shake the core of their identity? wondering who and where they would have been if they had been raised by their actual parents?
Now am not sure I want to wonder any more - these ladies take the cup hands down.
Even though they made me profusely grateful to know who I am, from time to time it pops up:-
What would it be like to work in an office, discuss work related issues and not wonder about laundry or getting dinner ready?
Leave the house in a rush to beat traffic, get in before my boss - just so that she knows I love my job and am ready for a promotion.
Wear makeup and look all snazzy not in a track suit, gown or whatever, waving Mich off to school in the morning.
Thinking;- deadlines, procurement, appointments and not dish washing liquid, mops, brushes and detergent.
Make hair and manicure appointments not just slapping on a cap and sneakers.
To get a pay check at the end of the month – yeowwww!
Very tempting.
But then I wouldn't have time to check homework and play tag.
Attend class parties in the middle of the day.
I wouldn't have all the time to read novels and blog or have the prestigious title of manager of domestic affairs.
Errr I think it's all good for now.
Trodden a different path? - the road less travelled? or the one with all the foot prints?
Ever wonder where you would have been if you had studied that and not this?
What sort of family you’d have if you’d married the other guy or lady?
Where you would be living? If you would be wealthy?
If you would be dating or planning to marry? (for those of you)
Or are you simply glad that you are where you are without any regrets - no "if’s", "ands" or "buts".
I was musing about this when I came across a story about two women who found out they were switched at birth;
Raised by people they called mom and dad only to realize decades later that even though mom and dad were mom and dad, they were not actually mom and dad. Didn't that shake the core of their identity? wondering who and where they would have been if they had been raised by their actual parents?
Now am not sure I want to wonder any more - these ladies take the cup hands down.
Even though they made me profusely grateful to know who I am, from time to time it pops up:-
What would it be like to work in an office, discuss work related issues and not wonder about laundry or getting dinner ready?
Leave the house in a rush to beat traffic, get in before my boss - just so that she knows I love my job and am ready for a promotion.
Wear makeup and look all snazzy not in a track suit, gown or whatever, waving Mich off to school in the morning.
Thinking;- deadlines, procurement, appointments and not dish washing liquid, mops, brushes and detergent.
Make hair and manicure appointments not just slapping on a cap and sneakers.
To get a pay check at the end of the month – yeowwww!
Very tempting.
But then I wouldn't have time to check homework and play tag.
Attend class parties in the middle of the day.
I wouldn't have all the time to read novels and blog or have the prestigious title of manager of domestic affairs.
Errr I think it's all good for now.
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