Start the day with chicken pate (34)

When the husband tells you he bought chicken pate, you know it shall rain. And, indeed it did rain! He then goes on to surprise  me with a shopping trip for house plants. We actually bought 2 cacti and organic manure for our struggling veggie garden. We actually made plans to go visit an urban farmer in Mpererwe who says he can show us around his nursery of orange trees, herbs and tomatoes. 

The plant show was at the musem. He was patient enough to spend an hour perusing through the abandoned displays. Having been warned of the dreariness of the museum, it was surprisingly educational. Of course it's nothing like the Smithsonians. But it definitely has potential. A few interactive displays, a new coat of paint, new floors and it would be a hit. 

The surprises continued. Awesome lunch and house cleaning. He is my favourite person in the world.

Now he's offering to make me tea. Life is good.

By the sea (33)

I was looking back at my photos and saw that I actually took some nice shots at the sea side. We'd planned for lunch at the top of table mountain. However, we had not planned for windy weather. None the less, it gave us an excuse to (re-) explore another part of the city.  My partner in crime for this venture is new to the Mother City's wonder. He reluctantly agreed to try lunch by the sea, disappointed that it was no longer on top of the mountain. The road downhill was pretty steep, narrow and kept winding. He said he was getting dizzy from all the twists and turns. [I suspect the fact that we were moving was altogether foreign to him. Apparently, in Nigeria, people have to watch out for speeding snails. Their traffic drama is that intense.] I think he focused so much on keeping steady and failed to notice the view until we came round the last corner and he saw this..

I think it's pretty rad that the same image can capture the dark, misty mountains with a heavy clouds looming over them, as well as the sandy shore line. It's the best of both worlds. The advantage of it being a cloudy day, was that there weren't so many people crowding the space. We could stare and roam in moderate peace [there is no such thing as total peace in a public beach].

Visiting these places reminds me of the good ol' days when a trip to the beach was worth a week of saving, especially when converting from UGX to ZAR. I remember being at this beach one night. I suspect it was one of those nights when my friends had decided that school was not palatable. I did not have the luxury of enjoying school as much as they did. Somehow, the wonder and splendour of mathematics is lost after the hundredth simulation of a never ending problem. They, on the other hand, had the joys of Psychology, English Studies and Music to comfort them except on nights like these. So one night, we crammed into a Golf and ended up at Camps Bay, singing Boyz II Men and a bunch of other oldies. There are no drunken tales to tell, I'm afraid. If the cost of liquor were not a hindrance to me, surely, its taste was. The strangest thing I remember was that someone tried to climb this rock.

Then it got cold and I borrowed a sweater from one of the guys, which I later regretted. [In an attempt to repay the gentlemanly kindness I was shown, I washed the sweater and threw it into a tumble dryer with the rest of my clothes. I do not wear high-maintenance clothes. How was I to know that it would shrink to half its size because of the heat?!]

During that random night visit, I think we packed our own food. We'd smuggled fruit, juices and yoghurt from the lunch room. The most exotic thing we could afford were a couple of scoops of marvellous ice cream from Sinful [now called Addiction, another week's worth of savings]. Fast forward to the present and, this time, we were dining in style. Prawn and Avocado sushi with seared salmon while he had grilled baby chicken [ever wonder why baby animals cost more? lamb? veal? baby chicken? They couldn't even call it a chick because they know grilled chick sounds so cruel.]

When we came, all those years ago, I do not remember seeing all these houses. I don't think they were this many people living this side. But I also suspect that I was afraid to see. It was of no use for me to envy what was beyond my reach. Now, I can't help stealing ideas and criticising, as if I could compete. They are still beyond my reach. I think the difference is that it doesn't matter any more. I am no longer afraid of those who seem to have more. 

Note to my younger self:

You worry about having the things you need to survive and about being the right type of person to excel in this life. Don't. You have all you need to be who you need to be. They may look like they have more. But it means nothing unless you can actually enjoy it. Enjoy your youth and your friends. You will not have either for very much longer. 

H[er]STORY (32)

I watched the video, like most Ugandans. Apparently it has been shared from Saudi Arabia to Carlifornia. It broke my heart. How could a person be so cruel? We are known as friendly, hospitable people. Those videos of Africa show us smiling, dancing in the streets. What possesses a person to be so heartless? I cannot answer that question. 

Then there was a debate on the radio today about new wage rates for domestic workers in South Africa. The numbers seemed absurdly small and embarrassing for a nation that claims it is a beacon of light on a dark continent. I was around during the xenophobic attacks of 2009 and wondered how people could wake up one morning and suddenly attack their neighbours. Looking at the wages, knowing the cost of living and the history of the nation, I am surprised they haven't burnt down the parliament.

The debate made me wonder if the concept of minimum wage exists in my own little village. Apparently, increasing the monthly minimum wage from UGX 6000 to UGX 75000 might upset the macro-economic framework and discourage foreign direct investment in Uganda. Fair wages would discourage investment, says the President. That takes me back to the video and its contents. What is her story?

My former boss told me I was born privileged. He said I was lucky that my father never had to consider exchanging me for bride price at a young age, in order to sustain himself. Even though I can't speak various tongues fluently, the one that I do speak well is one that matters. It is not a dying tongue spoken by maybe ten thousand people in a world of 7 billion. If I wanted I could have my pick of schools. I did not ever have to choose between starvation and clothing or school. I did not have to depend on the use of my body to earn my way through life. At the time, I was slightly offended. I wanted to assure him that I have seen my share of hardships. After seeing that video, I know he was right. I do not condone what she did. However, what is her story? What turned her heart of flesh into a dead solid rock?

Growing up in a household where both parents had full time jobs, we were almost always under the keep of a nanny/maid or relative [usually in between the maids] before the parents returned home. Looking back, I am amazed at how patient they were with us. I remember some almost considered us as their children and later invited us to their family celebrations. I learnt how to cook from them. When the time came for me to go to boarding school, they made sure I was ready. They made sure I knew how to do my laundry by hand, to stitch my name onto my clothes and to clean my shoes. When we moved to a more secluded house, they were amongst the few who did not laugh at our failed attempts to speak vernacular. I think the first time I ever used a public mini-van taxi outside the city centre was with Jennifer. I had no idea that so many people existed in our city until she took us to the old park. I remember that we got Orbit chewing gum on the return journey. I think it was a reward for being good children. Helen tried to teach us Lugbara. Agnes taught me how to cook rice and serve it in fancy shapes. Dona taught us how to play. By the time Penny and Anita came, we were old enough to teach them. So we shared school books with them and taught them English. We were friends. It wasn't perfect but it worked.

When I watched the video, my first thought was "is this what they secretly thought of us as we cried over sugarless tea and cold porridge?" I wonder what her story is...

Same changes (31)

Today, I am grateful for the few consistencies amongst the inconsistent. I am glad that home is always ahead of me. I know I will wake up to a message from you. It makes me look forward to the sunrise. 

I am glad that all tea tastes great. One sip, one drop can save what would have been a most dreadful morning and make it almost normal. Tomorrow I will rediscover waffles!

I am glad that the family [blood and adopted] stick together. We may not always agree but we always love, we support, we help, amidst the fights and challenges. 

I am glad that the music does not change with location and time. The songs that we share bring joy always. The joy we share is our song.

I am glad that I know where I'm from. I am comfortable with who I am. I am excited about being part of you.

I am glad that sleep always comes to me. No matter how dreary or sad or great the day is, You give me sleep and peace.

Tonight (30)

[22:21, 11/24/2014] Clara: Only you
[22:21, 11/24/2014] Lawoko: All of me
[22:21, 11/24/2014] Clara: All for me
[22:22, 11/24/2014] Clara: Made for me

Because my happiness begins with you
Because...
You.

After the end (29)

It is many moons since we buried you, brother. I came back here to tell you that I did not let you down. I did not think that I would survive this. I did not believe that joy would come back into my life.  But I did survive and I did one better. I helped another, in the same way that you helped me.

One day, as I walked back from the fields, I met them. They were seated by the roadside, waiting. It seemed like they had been waiting forever, even though I had never seen them before. The sun had set on the day, making it difficult to see them amongst the shadows. I was the only one walking down the dusty road [You had taught me that a little extra work goes a long way, so I had stayed in the fields later than the others]. I also knew I would be the last person they would see until morning. I walked towards the tree under which they sat. My heart broke as they scampered to hide behind its thick stem. They were limping and appeared to have sore feet. There bare bodies were covered in grime, not the kind you get from a good day's work, but the kind that spoke of dark, dreary, damp living. 

"Hello!" I greeted, putting on my warmest smile. My voice seemed to scare them even more. I offered them a drink from my glass coca cola bottle [Do you remember the day we saved our bottle from the dreadful pile of rubbish? Why would anyone throw away something so useful? I have kept it since then, washing and re-using it each day]. The clear liquid aroused their curiosity. I placed the bottle on the ground and stepped away, giving them room to inspect and taste. 

They crept closer, painfully and slowly, letting out a wince with each step. They knelt down, sniffed at the bottle. The girl, who appeared to be the older of the two, decided it was worth the risk and took a sip. A few seconds later, seeing no averse effects, she passed it on to the brother. I watched in the half darkness, praying that they would finish their experimentation before it was too dark to reach the village. [I still lived in our little hut on the outskirts of the village. I have not had the heart to leave our memories behind.] They finished the water and set the bottle on the ground. Then they scurried back to the tree and stared at me. 

They had not said anything to me yet and seeing their unwillingness to approach me, I picked up the bottle, and continued my journey home. At first, I was worried that they would choose to risk another night in the wild. Then, I was glad to here their footsteps and winces behind me. They followed me home to our little hut. They have never stopped following me. 

They remind me of the days when I was your shadow. They are the reason I am here today. I want them to meet you, brother. I want them to know that you live beyond the grave, in my heart and in my mind. 

It is late. We must return. 

Good bye, brother.

Radical (28)

Radical:

[adj] A description of an action or thing that is especially impressive [urbandictionary.com]

[n] An extremist of a belief or a rebel [urbandictionary.com]

[adj] especially of change or action, relating to or affecting the fundamental nature of something, far-reaching or thorough [oxforddictionaries.com]

[adj] characterised by departure from tradition; innovative or progressive [Oxforddictionaries.com]

They are not the kind of music that you would typically find 20-somethings listening to. As Africans we are so used to this type of music that we do not see the need to support it financially. Whereas many will scrimp and save to catch a glimpse the latest American fad, they struggle to be seen. The fact that they have an amazing act or and obvious ability to entertain holds no merit. But they still stand. They risk whatever little they have; their time, pride, money. They step out and onto the stage. They enjoy themselves and perform like they are in the company of royalty.

I have been challenged that perhaps I do not think radically enough. When I was in school, people described engineering students by making rectangle or square shapes in the air with their fingers. Apparently, we were thought to have minds that were restricted in terms of our interaction with the "real" world. Life, for us, was thought to be defined by sets of equations. Most of us seemed to make decisions based on logical conclusions with the least probability of failure.

The logic did not prepare us for a world in which nothing made sense. People seldom keep their word. Nothing is ever as it seems. Opportunities neither arrive at your door step nor do they leave their contact details in the yellow pages. Success, especially financial success, is a reward that is mostly available to those who dare to make illogical, irrational decisions; choosing risk over safety.

We spent over 20 years preparing to join the army of 9-5 workers. We were brainwashed into thinking that this was all that matters. We plan and line up our papers and hope that the letters before and after our names will attract attention to us.

Perhaps we are focusing on the wrong methods. Maybe we should be learning to think outside the rectangles and squares; to look beyond what we see and step into the unknown with nothing but hope that all will be well.

It is so hard to leave my calculator behind. But I must….

In Pursuit of ... (27)

The fingers write though the heart is heavy. I am reminded of what I have sacrificed and those that I left behind. I have lost myself in the illusions that I helped create. They believe I am happy because they would have been happy. I believe I am content because they believe I am happy. Belonging and being are the basis of the heart's definition of home. Without that to hold onto, it beats for no purpose; a soundless rhythm echoing in a deaf space. 

I have had to change my definition of belonging. I can no longer point to a single location or to a people. Even nomadic tribes have patterns. They have a set route that they follow as the seasons change and pass by the same stream at the same time each year. I tried to believe what we tell ourselves; that the world is one village now and that to belong to one people is to belong to all. However, the awareness of my limits proves the falsehood of this belief. In 30 days I must leave. I will no longer belong. 

In defence of my roots and defiance of popular logic, I hold onto my little village. I refuse to claim another as my home. There have been moments when returning home hurt more than the departure journey. My own blood rejected my arrival. My own tongue spat on my face. I cannot shake that nagging voice; the fact that I must explain my accent every where and every time. 

Perhaps I should be content in knowing that, though I belong to no one, at least I belong to you. But on cold dreary nights, when sounds of others' laughter emphasise one's own emptiness, one wonders what it is what we are all chasing after. 

A few of my favourite things (26)

Bright golden sunlight

A view of the water

A smile in your eyes

As you take my order

Chicken with mushroom sauce cooked in red wine

These are my favourite things as I dine

White rum, sweet lemons, 

sugar and green mint

All stirred together 

Sure make a mean drink

Mojito to wash down that wonderful fowl

It was so tasty that I licked the bowl

Laughter among friends

Makes for a great evening

Even on days when

The soccer's depressing

Blueberry cheesecake turns frowns to smiles

I will remember this day for a while...

When the Cranes lose

And the Eagles land

When we're feeling sad

I simply look at the beauty, sublime

And I'm sure life will work out fine

Christmas at the Water Front

Tease me (25)

Twisting and twining

Your fingers dance round my neck

Light, feathery flutters

Then deep kneading

And release!

Freeing knots I didn't know I had

You continue to twirl

My eyes barely open

My head's caught up in a swirl

Round... and round...

On...and on you go

A warmth envelopes me

Taking me deeper into the haze

I hear your humming

Willing me to be at peace

I'm so glad I came

That you held me

That we shared this moment

I'm glad and happy

With my new hair cut.

Tea time! (24)

It's time for a pause. What better day to take a pause than Monday? While the rest of the world revs its engines and powers on, I roll over gently. Today I showed up at work at 10. I did not have to go since work starts tomorrow. I just had a few things to clear up. I left at midday. It was a beautiful clear day. I was convinced to have an unusually large lunch. Chicken Cordon Bleu with creamed spinach, butternut squash and a Greek salad. Then, some how ended up watching a thriller. Thankfully, it was the kind that actually ended with a twist of hope. Imagine that, hope after all that gut-ripping and blood-sucking rage and confusion :) My day was definitely going well. I took a long soak in a mint scented bath and took a long sip of chamomile tea. Pause. Relax. [Till tomorrow]

You can do it! (23)

Today was all about trusting. I have always wondered why people insist on pushing others to do stuff that they are not comfortable doing. I always thought, "Seriously, if I said I am not able to do it, please leave me alone." 

Today I remembered something a rock climbing instructor told me ages ago. "Trust the rock. Trust that it is strong enough can hold you. trust those who are helping you climb. But most importantly that you have it in you to make it to the top."

Trusting the rock...Who does these things?

That was 13 years ago [give or take a week]. Today I was challenged to take on rock climbing, hiking and jogging [which was more of a slow trot] in one day.

Read the sign, if  you can.

I find that I am learning more and more lessons from the younger siblings. Ivan was my coach, challenging a reluctant me to take just one more step. I am out of shape. I was a sour companion. I cried and fretted over everything.

In the beginning, before the tears..

At one point we had to pull ourselves up a rock, about 7 metres high  using a chain. I was not sure I could trust the ability of my hands to lift me, the strength of the chain or the sturdiness of the rock. I was terrified.

 

What if I got tired half way and could not pause for a rest? What if I slipped? What if this or that? He simply said, "You can do it. I know you can." And indeed I was able to do it. Thrice! We climbed through crevices in between rocks, tip toed on the edges of short cliffs and pushed our tired bodies up this devil of a mountain.

We really did climb up through the middle of this pile of rock, literally. We squeezed and tugged our way to the top

Then we had the audacity to walk down another treacherous path. I was 20 mins behind him. But I made it. I am sore and bruised all over but I made it. I learnt to trust again; to trust others, trust the rock and myself. I can do it! [I need to work out more often!]

 

I also decided I want my garden to look like this.

Mother City (22)

Maybe I'll like you a lot more this time round. For now I am glad for an awesome room!

Walls? For who? For what? Shower in the middle of the room. Boom!

This is the stuff dreams are made of...Sigh...

Good night. Let's see what tomorrow holds. 

Plane Living (21)

"If you must travel for 23 hours, let it be comfortable." I am quickly and quietly locking that mantra into my system. 

Check in online before the flight. It's the best way to avoid sitting between Dutch who insist on having a Dutch conversation over your head. 

Showing up early for international flights helps. At 2 hours before departure, security and all of that was 15 mins [including all the undressing, unpacking, dressing and repacking]. 

Frequent flyer programs are a serious fad amongst travellers. People subscribe to these clubs almost religiously. There's competition over how many and what type of programs people are on as well as the various levels. "How many miles do you have?" I was just glad for a comfy place to put my bottom and a glass of cold fresh juice as I waited in between flights. 

Try not to fly the same plane 3 times in the same month. The movies don't change that often. Or plan for your own entertainment. 

Warm bread makes a huge difference to a meal. The desserts are too sweet. Why do they assume we all eat egg for breakfast?

Sleep! You're losing time as you travel. There's no point losing sleep and rest.

I survived.  I am glad.

Dimension[less] (20)

I am still struggling with jetlag. My body is 9 hours behind my mind. So while I want to stay awake till midnight, my brain starts winding down at 3 pm. I live in two different realities. I am about to move into a third one, leaving my mind behind to catapult 8 hours into the future.. All this dashing across space and time is dizzing enough; but people want more!

I just watched this movie which attempts to show that love is the fifth dimension beyond x, y, z and time. It claims that love is a tangible physical force (almost a being) that is capable of producing motion, of enabling one to identify a point in their story. So just as you tell life by space and time, you can tell life by love. In this world, time can be manipulated in the same way that one chooses their height, breadth or depth with reference to a given point. We can bend, and stretch time and are not trapped within its confines. Love transcends all and is what binds it altogether. 

This sounds familiar....

Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 

Romans 8:38-39 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in  Christ Jesus our Lord.

1 John 4:16 And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.

I just thought that was  an interesting observation, especially since it looked like they spent a lot of money on a movie that said the same thing you'd find in an old dusty book.

Anywho, I had caramel popcorn and hang out with one amazing lady. I was glad.

IT's all about people (19)

I am glad I met Mr Ali. My computer is a useless pile of junk. However, he never stops hoping. He still pursues the elusive miracle solution. Today he tried more than 10 pages worth of trouble shooting drama. Tomorrow he says he will have a consultation with an even more senior guru.

I did not like the idea of a call centre in Bogota or Jakarta dealing with my computer issues because we just never seemed to be on the same page. Now, I know why I was uncomfortable.  Meeting Mr Ali has reminded me of why face-to-face conversations matter. Mr Walter, his office-mate offered me coffee. I'm more of a tea person but the thought was sweet. Then, there's Ms S who  tirelessly answers the door whenever I knock. She's not handling my issue but she is courteous and patient when I can't find Mr Ali. It is a pleasant surprise to see the faces behind the emails and online chats. IT IS all about people!

Driving me crazy! (18)

I discovered today that I like automated car washes. I could sit there for hours, calculating the water velocity, time between each phase of the wash cycle and the reason for the timing. I wonder how the 'water wizard' knows when to move forward, back, up or down. Of course I could google this and know the answer in a jiffy but it's more interesting to sit and watch the wizard work it's magic. I know you would not be bored by this conversation.  Afterall, whenever we gaze at the stars we end up discussing Kepler's laws. Somehow, the last dinner we had was filled with talk of Faraday, electricity and magnetism. 

Back to cars and washes. This is a business opportunity waiting to happen: Washing a car in 10 minutes for 15 k per car without moody humans involved in the process. Hmm...

Amongst friends (17)

You chose me for your team

And showed me how to play

You listened to my story

And heard every word I said

You invited me to your table

And taught me to taste

You said you liked me

You laughed at my jokes

You told me your plans

And shared your fears

You showed me that, like sand

Dreams are infinite

We laughed and giggled

Even when we were worn

I know, I knew 

I am not, I was never, alone

All things (16)

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28 NIV.

He did what He promised. He made all things new. The sun rose. The old day and it's worries faded. I could breathe. I have peace, for today and Him forever. I feel slightly foolish for doubting. But my folly only makes His awesomeness more evident.

I am but a plant in your garden. I bend and change with the howling wind, the unforgiving rain and the scorching sun. I cannot control what happens to me. But I know You will not show me pain unless I need it. You will not leave me to die.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:20-21 NIV

New things (15)

Today was rough. Parting is sorrowful. Nothing sweet about it at all. But I am glad that all things come to an end and newness is promised.

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

A new week starts soon. There's a new journey to go on. He has promised that a new thing will come. I do not like travelling at night. There's little to see outside the window. But I am glad that, at least, it means that I will be able to watch the sun rise on a new day. I must hope and pray and believe that He will keep His promise. 

6 months (14)

I am still surprised

That you chose to stay

That I am here

That you preferred life this way

It was not, for me,

A thing so sure

There were no signs to read

No courses to steer

My night had no stars

No voices to follow

A dark empty sky

Echoes resonated hollow.

You invaded my quiet

Coloured my gray

Raised a tempest

Trampled on my clay

Nolonger my own, 

Nolonger alone

No glory or crown

A gift, not a loan

My old tune is gone

Sing anew

My story has changed

To You.

Happy halfversary!

Giving. Gifts (13)

The warmth in your smile 

The joy in your eyes

The music of laughter

I thought I was the gift

But it appears

You are the giver

I walked in 

with my hands full

I walked out 

with my heart overflowing

You were ready to listen, 

before I asked

You held me close, 

before I cried

I hope I can,

 one day, 

be the gift that you are.

Home (12)

I am home.

I have eaten too much fish and sukuma wiki :)

I am glad

The truth about Uganda (11)

Since I am travelling home, I thought it befitting to read a book about a missonary's experience in Uganda. I am struggling to get through the book. Instead, I ended up watching 'How to Train a Dragon 2' and 'Planes 2'. It was that painful. I think the author was trying to appeal to an American audience. However, I think she wasted too many pages painting a picture of gloom and doom. Yes, Uganda is a third world country (by the UN's definition). We do have a very young population. We have suffered a great deal from war, HIV/AIDS and a host of other deadly but treatable diseases. We are known for having beautiful flora and fauna as well as warm, welcoming hearts.

However,  there's more to Uganda than a little village near Jinja. We do have 'regular ' formal schools, permanent housing (not just mud huts), paved roads and shopping malls. We speak English. It may be modified but it's understandable. We can afford to buy soap and clean clothes. As such, not all of us are filthy or wear dirty torn rags. We aren't all orphans and we aren't all beggars. Some of us even have a college education (shock and awe!). 

We do not break into song and dance at the site of a Mzungu. I don't care what you say, if I invite you to a special family event, do not spend your time playing with the bystanders outside the gate. My beef isn't with the people watching. It's with you, for being a rude guest. There's nothing humble about dishonouring an invite and trying to make it seem like the host was at fault for organising the celebration. 

Whereas I agree that there is a sharp contrast between the author's little Ugandan village and a city in the US, it's not fair to write off the whole country. To make matters worse, they go on to advertise our helplessness and make it seem like we are unable to wipe the mucus from our nose. 'Help the poor, starving, filthy African.' (Africa sounds better, because Uganda is too small and insignificant, 'a dot on the map').

What I wondered as I read  was why the author did not work with Ugandans to raise awareness and funds. There are loads of guilt-ridden Ugandans in Kampala who would donate to a local NGO, that's doing work in our country. You just have to sell your idea the right way. 

And the happy thought of the day...I should be doing more. It is embarrassing to see how bad a picture people paint in order to 'help' us. I was challenged to do my bit. Enough of the bad press. I can, should and will do more. 

Coming home soon...

I love my Africa

Now I'm talking (10)

Kenyans are my favourite people. I love my family and I am as patriotic as it gets. But I really enjoy being around these brothers and sisters of mine. They are the perfect mix of drama and cool contentedness. They know how to get a party started, for those who like that kind of thing. However, at the same time, they know how to be still and sensible. I should know. I married one of them :)

Yesterday, I was in a cab with a Kenyan. Being the quiet soul that I am, I sat quietly for an hour and planned my next day's activity. My companion, noticing that I wasn't the chatty type, turned up the radio and sat quietly with me the entire time. I am accustomed to and unhappy with the hundreds of questions that I have to answer in most cab rides, so this was a pleasant surprise for me. 

When we got to the end of the ride, he thanked me in Kiswahili (to which I responded in my massacred version of the language). He seemed like a sensible dude [especially in comparison to the dude at Walmart who was trying to seduce me while I shopped for stationery!]. I was gutted that I had missed out on this opportunity, to meet another one of my favourite people. Worse still, I didn't get his number. So, I'm now on a mission to meet people and make friends until I find my almost friend. I didn't even get his name! 

How many other almost friends have I missed out on, I wonder? I am usually a strong defender of my right to be quiet and keep to myself. But that may change now. Now, I'm talking. [Well, at least a little more than usual...]

Stay Connected (9)

No. I am not going to lament or praise the existence of social networks, their apparent/actual power and my involvement in it, or lack of. I'm talking about doing more than just talking.

I was able to book a ticket home at 18:30 while walking down the street. A mere 10 or 15 years ago, it would have taken 10 days and not 10 minutes to achieve this. I would not have had as many options. 

I'm paid my bills while watching a movie. During breakfast, I helped my sister edit a muy importante document. The cousins updated me on a wedding meeting for one of the cousins. 

When I was born in, my father relied on our grand old radio to connect us to the world. we got dial-up in '95, or thereabouts. I actually learnt how to use MS DOS and Windows 3.11. I am a pro at minesweeper. I was scared when ME came along. All that colour overwhelmed me.

Today I connected with home: I spoke to him, booked my ticket and shared a joke with them.

I was glad.