Ulysses

“Though much is taken, much abides” Abiding, the quality of a fervent, intentional staying power. A stubbornness in remaining. Weathering. Clinging and clefting. Steadfastness in a choice whose reasons we sometimes revise. Two years ago, my grandmother passed away. She was more than much and, in her departing, we felt hollowed. We scrambled to gather…

Freelancing as at November 2020

I’m applying to another NGO job, in the beginning, I turned my nose up at the unpaid gigs, a year of unemployment has worn me down. Here I am, relishing the opportunity to be exploited if it’ll get a leg in. I’m changing the date on my coverletter even though a HR lady I follow…

Dear Sir/Madam

I love stories. Always have. Something about spending hours writing about myself on these job applications has tempered my thirst for words. Worse than in Uni, where the heavy paragraphs with long sentences suffocated me. Worse than dead poems. I know that it isn’t the words themselves, it’s the fruit they haven’t borne. I’ve filled…

The scent of crushed purple flowers.

I used to sneak out, through my balcony on the second floor of the house, tiptoeing on the slim wall that ran around it. Past my father’s flowers and younger brothers’ wilting vegetable patch; wind my way through the jacaranda branches and out to the poorly lit street. The trees kept the road shaded, dark:…

Two handfuls of quarantime™ thoughts

#1If I am what stood in my own way, if I am the war I waged within myself, if all I needed to do was cease striving, then I have ceased. I’m no longer simultaneously tearing myself down and picking up the pieces. I am no longer the voice that encourages then suffocates with doubts, worry,…

The preamble to a silly love story that may or may not end soon.

I first met Baraka in our kitchen. I trudged in, gently padding on bare feet, he sat in white on the tall island stools. His lovely fingers were tracing the marble patterns on the counter top. He looked up from his tea and smiled politely. His voice and face were a mismatch. He had long,…

Alessandro Mahmood’s New Album and various indie mixes.

Most of my music is slow, sadboy hours in languages I cannot speak and don’t understand. I just like a heartfelt feel; it matches all the stories I haven’t worked up the courage to write yet. I’ll pick up a word or two after wearing the songs down but I mostly listen for the intent….

Internshipping.

I’ve been exhausted since I got up at four am: it took us two hours to pack in and rerun over the plans. I thought field work would be an enjoyable, team-building adventure but here we are: in a land cruiser with worn shocks, crawling along Thika Road. HR let us know beforehand that they…

Barua #1: bado. Written 18.11.19.

Miezi miwili na wiki tatu yamepita tangu uondoke. Ningependa kusema kwamba tunaendelea vizuri; kusema ukweli, sijui. Marafiki wangu na mimi tunapenda kusema “still we move“. Inamaanisha kwamba chochote tunayopitia, tutaamka, tujitahidi: tuendelee. Mara kwa mara, ninajipata nikisahau. Juzi, nilipokua ninaomba, nilisema “tunawakumbuka Iyoo na Babu nyumbani…”. Ni kama bado sijaamini. Saa zingine, ninatafakari vitu vyote…

White Winter Sweaters and McD’s.

Remember when we moved in together and I was so unsure of what I wanted and you baked us chicken with pesto pasta. Our kitchen/ living room was my safe place; even though we shared it with three other people- and Chi. It’s where we ate take out and took out braids and weaves: it’s…

Anew// Upya

About the time I turned 23, my cousin rung me and said “Patience, let’s write stories about our Grandmother. Talk to people, collect various versions when you can: collate and produce.” I was ecstatic. Today, I have a handwritten draft of one story in a notebook miles away and a goodbye letter I’ve never posted….