Friday afternoon, Bob is at work. Not at his full-time place of work, no. It is a public holiday so he did not have to go in today. Today he wears the hat of part-time parking attendant at a church in Kileleshwa. His sister-in-law, Makena, hooked him up with the gig. She is a tailor and normally has her sewing machine set up outside the church. She heard of the parking attendant position from the watchman. The watchman works at the church full-time. When things are slow, Monday to Friday, he spends his days leaning on the fence next to Makena’s sewing machine. They chat on and on about their lives, spouses, children. About the family across the road that seems to have a different car for every day of the week, about the catechist who, like clockwork, comes and goes at the same time each day, about the new chaplain who wakes up at dawn to go for a run.
I haven’t written in a while.
I am sorry.
(WARNING: Long Read Ahead.)
I learnt a new word recently. I wager I shall be teaching you a new word today as well. Anthropomorphism.
All week, Pam had looked forward to Sunday. To be honest, it had been months. Months since her exam results had come out and she had had to pretend to not see the disappointment on her father’s face every time he looked at her, before he could catch himself and hide it. She had not attained the minimum grade to go to the university. Not even a technical institution for a vocational course. Nothing. All those years of schooling, the fees her father had paid through the nose term after term. Every time she was sent home for unpaid fees, he sacrificed a little more each day to put away enough to send her back. This education thing, they said it was the key to a brighter future. He believed them. They said one should educate girls as well as boys. So he gave a deaf ear to all marriage proposals for his daughters and took them all to school.
I am in a rush…
I’ve waited till the last minute, which seems to be my forte, to get to converting money.
Saturday afternoon. My cousin picks me up, he is heading to Westlands, has some afternoon plans I have planned to piggy-back on. We go via the Chiromo route and head to Westlands, cutting across Waiyaki Way at Kempinski. That back route to Westie which back in the day, pre-Kidero closing the roundabout at The Mall, you only ever saw when you were in a jav that was trying to evade traffic.
I open my eyes, It’s Monday. I’m on leave.
* punches fist into air *
Yassss! A break. A well deserved break. Happy days ahead.
9 years old and he has just recently started insisting on getting himself prepared for the school day. It is allowed. Growth is natural, it cannot be stunted. He is much slower on his own but won’t take kindly to any assistance. “I’m not a baby anymore,” he will say to her. She used to sit by him as he went about his morning routine, in the hope that dictating instructions would help him pick up the pace, but even that he objected to. “I can do it on my own mum.” Now she makes sure he is up, then heads downstairs to wait for him, preparing breakfast. Today she’s been anxiously looking outside at the sky, wondering if the weather really was dreadful or if the darkness of dawn was simply giving everything a tint of dreary.
It’s 6.32am. I am leaving the house 17 minutes later than I should for my morning run. This means everything about my day is going to be slightly delayed but, if nothing else, I must run. It makes me feel good. So good. Plus 1.7km is such a short distance if you think about it and 11 minutes, the duration of my run, is nothing, a tiny little drop if you look at it in respect of the fact that I have 24 hours in the day.
*posting this again because it mysteriously disappeared off of my hosting provider’s servers*
I went for a wedding this past weekend. Aren’t weddings just beautiful? I think so. The marriage that comes after, I cannot definitively classify as beautiful or not, the wedding though, weddings are generally beautiful.
Are you a Harry Potter fan that has been click-baited by the title?