hi how you all, am sorry i have really delayed on the blog whispers but they are coming before the week ends ... Sleek, on my honour.
anyway, now, this is totally short notice but i hope y'all dont mind. there is a show at UBC called Life Talk and the presenters of the show would like to come and have a moment with you bloggers, for some little interactive sessions on blogging and etc... how about that? you will get to see yourselves onsato at 7.30pm
so please please be there, i actually pitched the idea and i think its great if blogger becomes aloooooot bigger than it is now...its gotten big but...yeah, you understand.
so do come, i will be there....
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
fantasy
I still love to watch the sun rise. I fly away on the wings of the morning and for those 10 to 20 minutes when the world hangs in the balance between sleep and wake, noise and silence, a humming confusion of life and death, I hang between both worlds and wish I could stay in that moment for ever. Because for a moment, nothing matters. And everything stands still, and only I am breathing, and living in this time-stop moment. It’s so magical.
Like the night, but night has a magic of its own. Day break has the waning magic of night and the reality of day; both locked in harmony to take over time from the other.
When I was younger, much younger, I found refuge in the night, all my creative juices flowed then and the thick black blanket of the shade gave me a freedom I felt I could never weild in the heat of the day. Magic lost its power in the day light ( in another time I sure would have been born a fairy, coz they live in the night). My little sister and I had a ritual, when all the world was asleep, we were alive, she stayed up mostly for me because she shared a room with me, not to mention I was tired of scolding her for moving to my bed as well “does yours have needles and pins?” then again every kid in the house flocked to my room alllllll the time and when I got exasperated the answer was “but your room is interesting’ most times I wanted to lock the whole bunch of them out so I could be left in peace to write.
So we stayed up most nights in the hols. I basically stayed up to read for B.O.T (beginning of term exams) which I loathed and wished I had actually gone back to Namagunga where that was so not there!
My sis would always be excited about having to stay up coz she wanted to see the morning. I had seen it several times, while reading an ‘unputtable –down-novel’ or some story I was finishing and before I knew it ,it was morning, however by 4.30 her head would be nodding vigorously and no amount of coffee could keep her up. Of course I would want her to watch the sun rise with me and would nudge her till 6am , most times she would just glance at the window and say ‘umm’ then fall fast asleep. I would endure. My bedroom windows over looked the east and the grassy compound. So I would draw back both curtains and sit in the semi darkness and watch enthralled, entranced and strangely nostalgic… in this moments the most incredible things would happen to me… I would dream
Dream of the loveliest things imaginable and see the rider… the lone rider on horse back along the silvery shore of a magical sea, lone and sad, looking for his long lost love, his Nymph, stolen eons ago by the water god, his hair as silvery white as his horse and the shoreline and a well of sadness, excitement and something else I cant describe would engulf me…. And I would be inspired with another story, another poem. I gave the imaginary writer a name, his horse and his sad story and wrote it down many times before. Till today its an image I can never get rid of. When the day was semi bright,. I would creep out of my room, out the back door to the grassy lawn above my window , bare footed and relish the morning air, the dew… I always felt transported into some other world. A happy painless beautiful utopian world and for a brief moment, the world was mine… I was her god. The most memorable moment once was when I went all day all night compiling an anthology. My companions: the TV, the radio and a flask of hot water with a jar of coffee my dad had shipped me days ago. I wrote non stop, breathlessly, till from the living room windows I noticed the light of day stealthily peek from the darkish sky. My story ended as the pale light of day washed over everything that was grey. I rushed outside through the back door, barefooted and sat on the dew filled grassy lawn. Tears came to my eyes, ‘my God it was beautiful’ I saw the rider again, felt his pain and penned his story… then something else peculiar happened…two turkeys started to mate… I had never seen turkeys mate but it seemed so proper, that at the birth of a new day, two birds had prolly spent the night talking about giving new life soon, I was fascinated by it, by the miracle of life.
Every morning now when I do the news, I do get to watch the morning and that same old utopian feeling grips me. I still see the rider, and I want to end his pain…I only never get past his search for the water nymph… I am afraid if i coujure up the end I will never see him again…so when I can, I watch with bated breathe for the morning to break and its just as beautiful and magical as it used to be…I alone with the morning, celebrating birth of a new day orchestrating it like I was its god.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
from a friend
way back in school, a long long long long time ago in the year 2000. i sat in a literature class comprised of 18 students of which five were guys. there was H ( he may read this blog and pounce on me so no names) he was pretty erratic and had a love hate relationship going on with half the girls in HSC , he was crazy, as in literally crazy, he said whatever came off the top of his head and was loud but totally brilliant, somehow we became friends, we still are and he has a really prestigious position now in one of the drinks companies you know, bell lager , Nile special etc,
then there was O, O was my ally with his diary, a weekly that appeared on the school board every week...i had to take the bullet for him when a certain Mr. K almost suspended him for his very provocative diary entries that talked about school goings on but mostly about this annoying Mr. K. i was the editor -in-chief of the school magazine then and was responsible for whatever went up on the board. Those adventures and intimidations from the prefects body is for another day.
then there was Mr A i believe, he did music too, the first time i heard him play the piano, a self composed piece, i was blown away!
and there was another A who was really funny, but you never knew that with just looking at him, you'd easily dismiss him but he was a rib cracker.
then there was E who this blog post is about was my soul mate. he was a really quiet thoughtful introspective sort of guy, with a myriads of mood swings, unrest passions, sometimes i marvelled how a romanticist like him could live in our day. the 1500's suited him. we became friends after two incidents; when my poetry teacher made me read my poetry in the first lesson and i was seated with my good friend then who he was terribly infatuated with. he constantly shared his 'passion' with me everyday like a love struck Romeo...pining for love out of his reach. he was disturbingly shy;locking all his depth and intensity within so hard it depressed him, till i read my poetry and he got an outlet. he would write poetry , talk about his love in flowery language, then ask me to read it, correct it, panel beat it but i was awed by his writing, the imagery was sharp, intense emotion oozed from every letter making my own heart bleed, bring tears to my eyes...aaaah. though i told him he was a maestro in poetry, he still considered me better....
its been years now, and i perchanced to accept his FB request and we chatted about the goings on in our lives and i asked if he still wrote achingly nostalgic poetry like he used to, then he promised to write me one... and i got it down for y'all to read
When first we meet,
Will you thaw the tension with a smile?
Or perchance my feeble tale
Of how untainted the moment?
Time will make haste
Not a vowel must we waste,
Passers-by might pause and swerve
To avoid ruining the final embrace
plse get on to this blog she is my buddy and she needs to be welcomed to the blogger family.
then there was O, O was my ally with his diary, a weekly that appeared on the school board every week...i had to take the bullet for him when a certain Mr. K almost suspended him for his very provocative diary entries that talked about school goings on but mostly about this annoying Mr. K. i was the editor -in-chief of the school magazine then and was responsible for whatever went up on the board. Those adventures and intimidations from the prefects body is for another day.
then there was Mr A i believe, he did music too, the first time i heard him play the piano, a self composed piece, i was blown away!
and there was another A who was really funny, but you never knew that with just looking at him, you'd easily dismiss him but he was a rib cracker.
then there was E who this blog post is about was my soul mate. he was a really quiet thoughtful introspective sort of guy, with a myriads of mood swings, unrest passions, sometimes i marvelled how a romanticist like him could live in our day. the 1500's suited him. we became friends after two incidents; when my poetry teacher made me read my poetry in the first lesson and i was seated with my good friend then who he was terribly infatuated with. he constantly shared his 'passion' with me everyday like a love struck Romeo...pining for love out of his reach. he was disturbingly shy;locking all his depth and intensity within so hard it depressed him, till i read my poetry and he got an outlet. he would write poetry , talk about his love in flowery language, then ask me to read it, correct it, panel beat it but i was awed by his writing, the imagery was sharp, intense emotion oozed from every letter making my own heart bleed, bring tears to my eyes...aaaah. though i told him he was a maestro in poetry, he still considered me better....
its been years now, and i perchanced to accept his FB request and we chatted about the goings on in our lives and i asked if he still wrote achingly nostalgic poetry like he used to, then he promised to write me one... and i got it down for y'all to read
When first we meet,
Will you thaw the tension with a smile?
Or perchance my feeble tale
Of how untainted the moment?
Time will make haste
Not a vowel must we waste,
Passers-by might pause and swerve
To avoid ruining the final embrace
plse get on to this blog she is my buddy and she needs to be welcomed to the blogger family.
Monday, July 13, 2009
jinja-chicken nuggets-geisha weekend
well it would be a shame not to let on about my rather hectic weeeknd, i am still sleepy, monday morinning and i am hopping i can sneak out of work, go to nandos for a cup of coffee and a donut and alot of quiet time gazing at people passing by, most probably a story will come to me, if the Muse see it fit.
anyway i had plans firday evening then it got intercepted with plans for saturday, i decided i could still do it all and come out strong.
friday proggy was:
stay up all night after work chatting away with a good pal who was visiting . isnce i was too lazy to cook, he offered to cook. he is actually a good cook...for a guy,
so moment we are home, he hits the kitchen, i bully him into washing the dirty dishes,(poor thing) my plans to watch Memoirs of Geisha were thrawted though; anyway so about 45 mins later we slump back on the couch and eat up from his menu: vegetable soup with extra onions, french bread soft and sliced, deep fried chicken nuggets, chapati and fruit salad. then i turned on my laptop, played lotsa old school and laughed at him for not knowing some, he is so 'new school' and chatted till 4am0- catch up of over 2 yrs; part of his resolution to make time for his buddies.
Saturday morning
i wake up groggy and stared at my phone 7am! i had to get ready to leave!
jinja here i come, the thought of Jinja filled me with alot of nostalgia it had been years since i had last been to that part of uganda. i figured maybe after all this time it would be transformed somehow...
we crossed the bridge over owen falls dam all pimped up at 11am, blame it on stops at namawojolo and some place in mukono to wee-wee(i hadnt eaten that meat in years! so i did alot of stuffing)
and as kampala with all its dust and noise and etcs faded way way back into the back ground and jinja in the foreground swallowed us all, the nostalgia of it fed my senses anew. The day i got into a bus bound for jinja with a few of my belongings, not totally excited at the prospect of going to jinja for a month... but as the days rolled on into weeks and i toured the sleepy city i was totally infected by the people, the language, the fact there were only two pork joints more over in a bar and once my galfriends and i had to wait 3 hours before 5 kilos of pork arrived and it was sooooo little for our hungry angry stomachs. the shops were the same colonial pillars at every turn, only 94.6 FM was not there anymore... (was it 94.6?) oh and the buildings, still old , dilapidated, needing paint...the indians, the silence, the free air..the suuuuunnnnn! i missed jinja, i got to see the hotels i went to back then, and even peek into a shop of one of girlfriend's aunt who i remember made me uncomfy with open praise of my beauty...not forgetting her cousin who wanted us to elope...well they were not there anymore. i actually love Jinja
sunday
i missed church, slept sooooo much, started to function at 3pm
5.35pm, i was comfortably snug in my couch watching 'memoirs of a geisha!' beautiful movie, or what? the best part of that movie for me was when Mameha took chiyo in her wing and started to train her to be a geisha; in a few months, she had to learn what a maiko learns in years... it is so full of colour, so magical, dreamworks and spyglass make the geisha world as magical and mysteriously beautiful as the author Arthur Golden intended for it to be...
a few excerpts from the movie helped explain to me that what we thought Geisha's were was not what it was Mata Hari was not a whore....back then men were forced into arranged marriages and they went to look for true love and comfort from a Giesha who accompained them (the men) everywhere entertaining them with music and dance.the sad bit was because this was a job...it was forbidden for a Geisha to fall in love.
at the training of chiyo cum sayuri by mameha in becoming a maiko; an apprentice geisha
"and to be a geisha is to be judged as a moving work of art. Geisha means artist. We are not wives, we are not courtesans. We sell our skills not our bodies. You cannot call yourself a true geisha until you can stop a man in his tracks with just one look."
fascinating history, i am going to read up more on it.
that was me weekend, how was yours?
anyway i had plans firday evening then it got intercepted with plans for saturday, i decided i could still do it all and come out strong.
friday proggy was:
stay up all night after work chatting away with a good pal who was visiting . isnce i was too lazy to cook, he offered to cook. he is actually a good cook...for a guy,
so moment we are home, he hits the kitchen, i bully him into washing the dirty dishes,(poor thing) my plans to watch Memoirs of Geisha were thrawted though; anyway so about 45 mins later we slump back on the couch and eat up from his menu: vegetable soup with extra onions, french bread soft and sliced, deep fried chicken nuggets, chapati and fruit salad. then i turned on my laptop, played lotsa old school and laughed at him for not knowing some, he is so 'new school' and chatted till 4am0- catch up of over 2 yrs; part of his resolution to make time for his buddies.
Saturday morning
i wake up groggy and stared at my phone 7am! i had to get ready to leave!
jinja here i come, the thought of Jinja filled me with alot of nostalgia it had been years since i had last been to that part of uganda. i figured maybe after all this time it would be transformed somehow...
we crossed the bridge over owen falls dam all pimped up at 11am, blame it on stops at namawojolo and some place in mukono to wee-wee(i hadnt eaten that meat in years! so i did alot of stuffing)
and as kampala with all its dust and noise and etcs faded way way back into the back ground and jinja in the foreground swallowed us all, the nostalgia of it fed my senses anew. The day i got into a bus bound for jinja with a few of my belongings, not totally excited at the prospect of going to jinja for a month... but as the days rolled on into weeks and i toured the sleepy city i was totally infected by the people, the language, the fact there were only two pork joints more over in a bar and once my galfriends and i had to wait 3 hours before 5 kilos of pork arrived and it was sooooo little for our hungry angry stomachs. the shops were the same colonial pillars at every turn, only 94.6 FM was not there anymore... (was it 94.6?) oh and the buildings, still old , dilapidated, needing paint...the indians, the silence, the free air..the suuuuunnnnn! i missed jinja, i got to see the hotels i went to back then, and even peek into a shop of one of girlfriend's aunt who i remember made me uncomfy with open praise of my beauty...not forgetting her cousin who wanted us to elope...well they were not there anymore. i actually love Jinja
sunday
i missed church, slept sooooo much, started to function at 3pm
5.35pm, i was comfortably snug in my couch watching 'memoirs of a geisha!' beautiful movie, or what? the best part of that movie for me was when Mameha took chiyo in her wing and started to train her to be a geisha; in a few months, she had to learn what a maiko learns in years... it is so full of colour, so magical, dreamworks and spyglass make the geisha world as magical and mysteriously beautiful as the author Arthur Golden intended for it to be...
a few excerpts from the movie helped explain to me that what we thought Geisha's were was not what it was Mata Hari was not a whore....back then men were forced into arranged marriages and they went to look for true love and comfort from a Giesha who accompained them (the men) everywhere entertaining them with music and dance.the sad bit was because this was a job...it was forbidden for a Geisha to fall in love.
at the training of chiyo cum sayuri by mameha in becoming a maiko; an apprentice geisha
"and to be a geisha is to be judged as a moving work of art. Geisha means artist. We are not wives, we are not courtesans. We sell our skills not our bodies. You cannot call yourself a true geisha until you can stop a man in his tracks with just one look."
fascinating history, i am going to read up more on it.
that was me weekend, how was yours?
Thursday, July 09, 2009
a much needed kalango for men!
its about sex! sex! sex! just go here
and read it slowly and carefully, i am tired of women complaining to me as though i be a counsellor on this matters,
and read it slowly and carefully, i am tired of women complaining to me as though i be a counsellor on this matters,
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
see-saw
have you ever tried to be alright? you know coz everyone tells you 'oh it will pass. you will be okay. you are not the first to go through it. concentrate on something else that makes you happy. change your hair,, eat ice cream. work your butt off etc" and then you smile and its okay for a moment and you are on top of the world and then one little, tiny flicker of memory (remember you carry the scabbing memory of this traumatic thing within a corner of your soul and its like a stubborn stain that wont go off) so any how a flicker of memory, maybe a comment or a thought or even a gesture takes you back to that moment and the scabs tear afresh and the wound starts to bleed and before it, hard as you try to look composed and be happy. its straining you so hard, your head is beginning to ache.
then you drop the facade and ask 'who am i kidding? what do i need to hide, i feel like crap and its not going away now so why not just drop it and cry or really feel it then start scabbing afresh?'
or maybe you go to bed high coz you told yourself it wont get to you and then in the morning in the cold first light of day as you open yor eyes, it hits you that it wasnt a dream and more still the scabbing wound within your soul seems to pin you to the bed-heavy as lead and you know you wont eat another day coz you feel so bad but you have so much life passing you by yet
all you see
is grey
and yes, 'your not the first. yes, you will be okay, yes, everything happens for a rason'
but can the whole world get it ? that the pain is really tangible and i will have to face it day after day till it ebbs away and not pretend its not there coz i will have to deal with it , no matter how far i run.
so i decided if i become a sour puss, laughing one moment , crying the next; smiling then frowning, being a people person then withdrawing... i shall be as erratic as i want to be till i am okay other than repressing and being schizophrenic!
then you drop the facade and ask 'who am i kidding? what do i need to hide, i feel like crap and its not going away now so why not just drop it and cry or really feel it then start scabbing afresh?'
or maybe you go to bed high coz you told yourself it wont get to you and then in the morning in the cold first light of day as you open yor eyes, it hits you that it wasnt a dream and more still the scabbing wound within your soul seems to pin you to the bed-heavy as lead and you know you wont eat another day coz you feel so bad but you have so much life passing you by yet
all you see
is grey
and yes, 'your not the first. yes, you will be okay, yes, everything happens for a rason'
but can the whole world get it ? that the pain is really tangible and i will have to face it day after day till it ebbs away and not pretend its not there coz i will have to deal with it , no matter how far i run.
so i decided if i become a sour puss, laughing one moment , crying the next; smiling then frowning, being a people person then withdrawing... i shall be as erratic as i want to be till i am okay other than repressing and being schizophrenic!
Monday, July 06, 2009
didnt think i would post anything today till i saw this!
have you read about The Jamaican Genie? lol!
A woman was walking along the banks of Dunn's River Falls when she stumbled upon an old empty bottle. She picked it up and rubbed it, and lo-and- behold a Genie appeared. She talked with him awhile, then the Genie told her he would grant her ONE wish. She said she heard from a cousin that she would get three wishes if she ever found a Genie.
The Genie said, 'Nope, sorry, three-wish genies nuh real, me is strictly a ONE-WISH Genie. So ... what yuh want?'The woman didn't hesitate. She said, 'I want peace in the Middle East. See this map, I want these countries to stop fighting with each other and I want all the Arabs to love Jews and Americans and vice-versa. It will bring about world peace and harmony'.
The Genie looked at the map and exclaimed, 'Lawd Lady, A wah wrang wid yu? PLEASE BE REASONABLE! Dem countries yah a war fi how much thousands of years. Mi shut up inna dis bockle fi 'bout five hundred of dem dey years! Mi good but mi nuh dat good! Mi nuh know if mi can grant dis one. Do Lady, mek another wish!! Mi a beg yuh... Be reasonable.'
The woman thought for a minute and said, 'Well, I've never been able to find the right man... You know, one that is considerate and fun, likes to dance and helps with the cooking and house cleaning, is great in bed and is FAITHFUL. That's what I wish for ... a good man.
The Genie let out a long sigh, shook his head and said, 'Mek mi see di map again!!!!'
A woman was walking along the banks of Dunn's River Falls when she stumbled upon an old empty bottle. She picked it up and rubbed it, and lo-and- behold a Genie appeared. She talked with him awhile, then the Genie told her he would grant her ONE wish. She said she heard from a cousin that she would get three wishes if she ever found a Genie.
The Genie said, 'Nope, sorry, three-wish genies nuh real, me is strictly a ONE-WISH Genie. So ... what yuh want?'The woman didn't hesitate. She said, 'I want peace in the Middle East. See this map, I want these countries to stop fighting with each other and I want all the Arabs to love Jews and Americans and vice-versa. It will bring about world peace and harmony'.
The Genie looked at the map and exclaimed, 'Lawd Lady, A wah wrang wid yu? PLEASE BE REASONABLE! Dem countries yah a war fi how much thousands of years. Mi shut up inna dis bockle fi 'bout five hundred of dem dey years! Mi good but mi nuh dat good! Mi nuh know if mi can grant dis one. Do Lady, mek another wish!! Mi a beg yuh... Be reasonable.'
The woman thought for a minute and said, 'Well, I've never been able to find the right man... You know, one that is considerate and fun, likes to dance and helps with the cooking and house cleaning, is great in bed and is FAITHFUL. That's what I wish for ... a good man.
The Genie let out a long sigh, shook his head and said, 'Mek mi see di map again!!!!'
Friday, July 03, 2009
friday fever
well not exactly a fever but my mind is open and i am just going to drop whatever comes in,i dont feel like structured writing for any 'wows' i just wanna be.
do you ever get like that?
oh and if i am not mistaken Robyn is in the country? are you, love? waiting to see you so we catch up real gooooood.
all week a certain poem has been plaguing my mind, i knew where i could find it and kept seeing the hard cover of the book that cased this poem, so last night in thoes of sleep, i decided to get up anyhow and look for it and voila! there it was it, refreshed my memry and decided to blog it... coz i am still puzzled as to what it could mean- for 14 years now. wow!thats how long i have had it
MADE DRUNK TO LOVE YOU is the title
(ahem!) thats me not part of the poem
'made drunk to love you,
sober to fit your curves
three o'clock and the stars shine
and the moon stays behind the hill'
so- what the heck does this poem mean?
apart from that, my dad is in outside countries and i am actually chatting with him, how cool is that? i mean daddies dont know one thing about technology, or if they do they really try to be arrogant about not learning but noooooo this old fella is really chatting.
it is really cold too and i got a cookie in my bag that i want to eat bu the idea of getting up to make me a cup of tea takes forever in this place so i will sit here untill my stomach grawls and roars and maes a huge mess of my insdies before i move outta this chair.
i know my weeeknd wont be really eventful only that i have a 3 in 1 goosebumps collection i will read ( i finished one story already)
so i imagine apart from sleeping...oh and visiting on sunday, i shall be a total house worm, eating away at anything edible.
enjoy your friday and the rest of your weekend people.
do you ever get like that?
oh and if i am not mistaken Robyn is in the country? are you, love? waiting to see you so we catch up real gooooood.
all week a certain poem has been plaguing my mind, i knew where i could find it and kept seeing the hard cover of the book that cased this poem, so last night in thoes of sleep, i decided to get up anyhow and look for it and voila! there it was it, refreshed my memry and decided to blog it... coz i am still puzzled as to what it could mean- for 14 years now. wow!thats how long i have had it
MADE DRUNK TO LOVE YOU is the title
(ahem!) thats me not part of the poem
'made drunk to love you,
sober to fit your curves
three o'clock and the stars shine
and the moon stays behind the hill'
so- what the heck does this poem mean?
apart from that, my dad is in outside countries and i am actually chatting with him, how cool is that? i mean daddies dont know one thing about technology, or if they do they really try to be arrogant about not learning but noooooo this old fella is really chatting.
it is really cold too and i got a cookie in my bag that i want to eat bu the idea of getting up to make me a cup of tea takes forever in this place so i will sit here untill my stomach grawls and roars and maes a huge mess of my insdies before i move outta this chair.
i know my weeeknd wont be really eventful only that i have a 3 in 1 goosebumps collection i will read ( i finished one story already)
so i imagine apart from sleeping...oh and visiting on sunday, i shall be a total house worm, eating away at anything edible.
enjoy your friday and the rest of your weekend people.
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