fiddle dee

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone i know i know... mercutio was talking about me

Monday, August 27, 2007

Has the moon lost her memory… she is smiling alone

I have been on a mind blog roll -really, story after anecdote and poem- yeah the thought (in this case, numerous) counts (count?); my writing sister finally got out of her lull, so let’s get these thoughts on paper before she lapses again! BTW we call it a paper trail now, wonder what it will be called two generations from now, when paper will be an endangered species!

I remember when…

I was a last born like forever, then came two boys hailing the demise of my reign and enter the boys and feline reign- so naturally the six year old ventured deeper into the bigger world that was begging for my leadership skills. After living in the suburbs (see smaller towns outside the major capital) for a while, there was a brief stint in the city estates- one word- heaven! I no longer had to wander for ages before bumping into another playmate in the general age group- they were all over the place! There were so many walls to climb, streets to discover and of course gangs to lead!

Mum was really getting on my nerves, she now wanted to have me haul my weight around and carry luggage, and yes, there was the “watch your brothers”, only yesterday it was unheard of, I was the baby girl, everything evolved around me! (When I grow up…); I patiently carried out my duties, dreaming of the next day. I swear the batteries in that clock were down! It really took it’s time (get it- clock taking it’s time)- but I soldiered on… gazing longingly at the kids downstairs having the time of their lives- they didn’t know what fun was, it was spelt ME!

It’s finally here. Oh boy, oh boy I could barely contain myself- I forced breakfast down my throat and waited patiently for everybody to finish, said my thank you and carried the dishes to the sink- this was of utmost importance; couldn’t afford getting grounded, there were people out there who desperately needed my guidance. I showed mummy my washed hands, and informed her I had wiped the floor after my bath, and made my bed; then batted my eyelids coyly, and asked if I could take my bicycle outside for a bit “please mum, please- I will be very careful”.

Home free, I grabbed my red Raleigh bike and hit the streets. Game plan, cruise round the ‘block’, select the most worthy crowd, and rule my kingdom. Before I got halfway through, one of the boys on his bike swooped by on his bmx, with a knowing grin of a superior rider- he had another thing coming! My legs pumped as hard as they could, and caught up with him as he got to the corner- shoulder by shoulder we rode, now in full view of his buddies, I got off my seat and gave it my all- there was a lot of cheering… subjects welcoming their queen!

I know- take overs were so much easier then!

Double woof

As I gazed into those soulful eyes, I was lost- and with a little wimper he scampered towards me with an adorable clumsy scuffle on his seemingly oversized coffee coloured paws against his shiny black coat. “ooooh what’s his name?” “Bingo” what kind of name is that?! Anyway, the owner was probably paying off a gambling debt with the money being handed over. No matter- I was in love.

He spent his summer mornings patiently waiting for the gardener to sweep all leaves and twigs into one heap, before he embarked on his calling that summer with such gusto and glee; scattering the leaves to as many corners as possible, yes with Kopano hot on his heels, cursing in several languages, that would have any sailor turn red in the face. He only gave up when he realized that Kopano had a fearful weapon that would cause irreparable damage- the hose pipe gushing out water! Frightful- I am talking nightmare on Doggie Street scary! He then resorted to chasing after his own tail for minutes on end, and altering it with barking- adolescence came with the breaking of his voice- must keep practicing, how about looking for a hole in the fence, nothing; it’s easier to dig- wait a minute, what is that? (your tail dumb dumb) come here, oi!; feeling dizzy… let’s try that barking again… ooooh there’s the thing, (the hose pipe) the horrible thing that will annihilate my existence, I should put my vicious bark to test- wait, I think it is asleep, maybe I should maul it to death! Here comes Kopano- he really needs to learn how to speak, he is probably inviting me to spread the leaves across the lawn for him- I love this guy!

Bingo would never have made a watch dog, all he thought when he saw people was, pat on the head, pat on the head, belly rub- thank you Lord for creating these useful beings! Though, this thought process was not shared by those standing at the gate cowering, at the huge German shepherd bearing down at them with that adorable sideway gait that left many wondering if he was cross eyed.

He was supposed to have been trained, but he learnt all the rules to break them- He knew what I was saying but couldn’t be bothered to get off the couch when guests came in, his ability to whine pitifully for ages right outside my window when I was trying to get my beauty sleep earned him a sleeping rag in my leaving room; his walks always lasted an hour longer; as he got deaf when it was time get his lid back on; and every reprimand dissolved when he gazed up with those loving soulful eyes- I never got the chewing of one particular pair of sneakers… he learnt how to stand perfectly still when being washed and waiting for the opportune moment to shake water onto whomever felt his coat need to shine a little bit more.

One thing’s for sure, He gave all dogs a good name (you know it!).

Clearing the cobwebs

Life right after campus seemed to be one long party! No responsibilities (well very few), a job that was bringing in money- Party! Party! Party!

My favorite hangovers (then) happened every fortnight- sounds like an oxymoron right?

A few months ago, was coming from one of those meetings that I would have been glad to miss- especially when you have two schools of thought going on; old and new. I digress, walking out of the Sheraton, and Judy is telling the same ol’ lame joke all wrong- it isn’t funny, all I can hear is my bed calling, then, a glimpse from the past, that forehead is …-no, I must be really tired- then the face smiled, that’s weird, I haven’t changed my dealer, wait, I don’t have a dealer- and right there was Tom- what you doing in my country? He says his working… and sees my blank expression, and reminds me that he is a medical doctor- oh right, I totally forgot.

For a moment we were back at Hotel County, where come rain or shine (literally) doing what we loved to best- drinking came a close second- playing jazz music (minds out of the gutter!)

The repertoire as diverse, but the favorites took prevalence. Tom is a brilliant trumpeter- I was always baffled by the versatility of his playing and wondered how he made the three knobs of the trumpet produce so many sounds- he said it was all in the lips- hmmm… too bad he was taken. Other greats included Tony- one man band, Mwangi who would have made you swear that sex came in second to the lead guitar , Njane and his bro outdid themselves on the woodwinds (show offs!), George who took drum solos to a different level- and allowed me to play during his breaks(eternally grateful)- the songbirds Juliet, David, Cindy, and anyone else who wanted to try it out., Chris was ok (he is a star today- really, I listened to him at the end of last year, amazing) regaling us with his alto sax- let’s not forget George K who checked in too from time to time. And the crowd- Helen, Kevina, the Ndavis, Pato, and many many more that made these inconspicuous Sundays monumental!

This used to be Sunday afternoons, every fortnight- drag myself out of bed, head throbbing, hit the showers, swallowed an overdose of aspirin and made my way to the county- gulped down any cold drink with sugar, ordered the fried goat complete with ugali and kachumbari, and started on the hair of the dog. People from all walks of life with a love for jazz- blissful.

This I dedicate to Antonia, who never made it to a year, and passed on during the playing of ‘misty’, say hi to the angels for me- and to the late James Falkland who allowed us such pleasurable moments that will forever stay with us by allowing us the use of his instruments- and of course, nurturing and polishing theatre genius.

I would do it all over again.

Ode to blue mango

“Let’s hook up at blue mango”

And I was duly informed, they shut down, there was one hell of a farewell party the previous week! I really need to keep up with some of my party life sometimes; then again, it has been non-existent this year! I was going to miss the place- the hotspot zone, the comfy chairs into which you sunk into and never wanted to leave, the coffee, the Sunday brunches- to die for! All gone! Maybe it will open up under new management…

Then about 2 weeks ago, I am passing through Wandegeya, and there is a banner- it was like an accident (you don’t want to look, but you keep looking)- horrible orange colour, irritating font, ridiculous use of space, advertising the ‘hideout’ (Hideous). Must be one of those joints that need to be abolished if we are to follow the ‘stop cross-generational sex’ campaign through to the end. I bet I would bump into an uncle or two there…then, the location, it is the former blue mango… oh joy! I figure, wine in a different glass tastes just as good- call a few friends, we have a plan for tonight.

About the plan- NOT! It so is the hideous…I mean, hideout now.

To be or no be? Is this the right question?

Crossing the ditching all unavailable (married or otherwise engaged) men who seemed to be my forte and fatale from my phone and life bridge, just brought me to another; mates that are recently hitched- purely platonic relationships (ok, that’s not entirely true)- that makes them married men… time isn’t of the essence here.

The opposite sex just always seemed more interesting to me- hanging out and going out- hitting the proverbial 2 birds with one stone. I will probably throw a ‘stag’ bridal shower and have a best man when I get married… okay that’s really stretching it- I am a dreamer; and they do sometimes come true.

Been in Kla for about 4 years, was going through phone book and deleting unnecessary contacts- and got to the recently hitched guys. The questions begin:

1. If I hook up with him and have a good time like we used to (no sex) is he cheating?

2. How often can we hang out? When is it suspicious? Should it stop all together?

3. There are different levels of touching, they draw back? How far back?

4. Then there is the fact that is if you fool around before marriage it is cheating, after, it is adultery- ugh, ugly word!

5. Ok, does this mean in a sick, twisted way are we still a polygamous generation?

The neighbours kids are camped outside my window again- two Somalis, and Indian, a northerner and a munyakole; they are playing some silly game and having a blast shattering my quiet time. *sigh* I grab the basketball and football and walk on outside. *silence* they must think I am the neighbor from hell- I hand over the balls to the puzzled faces- that turn to glee with their recovered treasures, they soon forget I am around- life is so simple;” you want to play?” “ok”

I return to my phone- save the numbers in a different profile- I am not letting my friends go; but I need to know that I am treading different waters.

If it gets more complex than this, looks like I have more than my mBA to pursue!

And to quote the Legend that be called John out of context (ish)- “All I am trying to say is that our love don’t have to change, no, it don’t…”