Rosette -2-

Sunday “It’s slightly late I know, but thanks for agreeing to make an exchange for the goods purchased.” “No need at all, it should be I who should be thanking you for coming at such a short notice. I know you were probably in the middle of cooking a storm. It’s fun how you waft…

Rosette.

Sunday, It’s someone’s prerogative to tell their story and also to change their mind at any point before publishing, but it’s annoying as hell. Throws a spanner in the works. It has happened before whenever someone developed cold feet. I had not planned to drink. It hadn’t crossed my mind. I had a bottle of…

For A Moment

I’m not so sure if I can mouth the words, “I love you”. I’m not sure you’d say that back. Don’t say you love me cause I can’t say it back. Don’t say you’re sorry cause you’ve done nothing bad. I had to swallow my feelings, but I can’t swallow my pride. You know I’ve…

Care, Compassion, Compadre

I learnt to keep away, to mind my own business. I don’t seek people out as a result. I don’t mind solitude. I’m used to it. I’m pretty much okay with my own company since time immemorial. Three nights ago, I heard my neighbor pray. It had been long since I heard her pray. This…

Life for Rent

I remember someone said that the true funeral starts in the evening, when the body is underground, everyone has left, and the homestead remains silent. That is when enormity hits hard. There is a certain pain that cuts across when the coffin is lowered, then the covering, followed by that thud on the coffin or…

7月17日 7 Tsuki 17-nichi

Mother makes chapatis like how the Germans make machines. Not an iota of effort wasted. Everything falls into place. A perfect conundrum of flash and fair, pompadour and an exotic aroma. Then there’s this look she gives which has some sort of a welcoming arrogance. She makes her chapatis like how Taitas like tea. Seriously…

6月24日 6 Tsuki 24-nichi

Mother used to run the house like it was the Gulag – intimidations, threats, and a whole manner of ass whoopings. Dad? He led by his signatory silence. He never talked much, sat in his favorite chair by the corner, newspaper in hand, and lingala or benga music would be playing through the stereo. He…

58

Today at 0600hrs I was listening to the ocean. Then I saw your face in the sand. But then when I tried to pick it up, the water trickled down my palms and it vanished down. It took me back to when I was thirteen, when both you and mother woke me up. Telling me…

175 Far From Home.

It was always easier to remember the times that were great and satisfactory in our lives, the guffaws, giggles, and glee that blends in with the jolly mood and gung-ho that comes with gathering around a few bottles of whiskey and gin. We were 175 kms somewhere far from Mombasa. Still quite a distance. It…