Would you Dare?

This here is a good question, would you dare?


In February 1492, a poor grey-haired man, walked into the pearly gateways of the great Alhambra, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella’s palace. Haunted from his boyhood with a dream and idea that the earth is round and that there were other unknown lands in the west that he could reach. He believed that could reach the east by sailing west. Therefore, he needed financial backing for an expedition into the new lands but was turned down and even considered crazy for having such an audacious and out of this world idea. As if that was not enough, the king’s ‘wise men’ who had been brought up to ‘analyze’ his idea ridiculed it and even mocked him. “But how can men walk with their heads hanging down, and their feet up like flies on a ceiling?” one of them asked.

Christopher Columbus is now credited with opening up the…

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I can’t, for the life of me manage to find time to write these days.This particular post has been pending review for a while now, just like so many others that are half written,yet to be published.I envy those people who write on a daily basis,keep journals even.I used to keep journals once upon a time. I stumbled upon them the other day and I was surprised at the depth of my feelings at that point in time.I wrote so well,I was starting to wonder whether it was really me who made those entries!Of course some were in code and I could not remember what the codes meant. So the mystery of the codes remains unsolved, not that it matters. It mattered then, otherwise I wouldn’t have written it, but it passed and I forgot about it. It kinda gave me something to mull over.Life is a series of codes that we are constantly trying to decipher. In essence, just like my journal entry didn’t matter the other day, much of what we worry about today will not matter tomorrow.

Some time back, I had a falling out with someone.I thought at that time that I would never get over it. it hurt so much, felt like my heart was breaking into pieces..{I think this is the phrase that best describes that feeling of utter dejection, so you might see it a lot with me}.I digress 🙂 Anyway, I felt like I was falling apart. I didn’t understand why things had to be this way. I thought about it,cried over it, but I didn’t die. I realised that I was so busy hurting and trying to decipher a code that was not meant to be deciphered. The falling out had happened, hard as I tried, I would never understand why.It was what it was, and no matter how long or how hard I cried over it, it just wasn’t going to change anything.It kinda felt like I was crying over an algebra equation that could,and would not solve itself no matter the amount of tears I shed.

A week later, I started picking up the pieces of my wounded heart and pride. I patched them up best I knew how, dusted myself and moved on. Later on, I started joining the dots backwards and it wasn’t so bad after all.  See, that is the nature of life. We look at life through the prism of extremes, mostly negatives- hurt, failure, pain…rarely do we look at things for what they are, learning curves. We refuse or can’t see the grey areas, just a lot of blacks and whites. We refuse to colour outside the box.We forget that yin can’t exist without yang, and vice versa.

So what am I really saying beyond the rambling? That it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to try to decipher the codes, its only human.The only thing you need to know is that those codes should not stop you from living life. You only have one life to live and you certainly do not want to spend it in search of explanations on things that will not matter tomorrow, or in a few days. Ask yourself whether it will matter in the next one week, month, a year or even ten years. It is definitely easier said than done, but sometimes no matter how much it hurts and you are dying to understand the whys and wherefores, it is safer just to let things be. Sometimes what we think is sorrow, ends up not being what we expect,but a blessing in disguise.Our scars define us and give our souls character. My mantra is, and always will be, we are broken to be made whole.

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked, and the same well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. How else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” ~Khalil Gibran~




Of heartbreaks and lost loves…..

I have not written for a while.Not because I have nothing to write about,but because I let ‘life’ get in the way.I read a lot less too-reason?I tell myself or rather convince myself as consolation that life gets in the way,but what is it really?Most of the time it is just complacency,and the internet-yes,Facebook,Yahoo,Google…I have become lazy,am appalled to admit,and have joined the Internet craze bandwagon which needs to stop.

Internet dating has become the in thing.You meet someone online and start chatting-very easy considering over the internet,you can be anyone and anything you want to be.You can be charming,funny,post photo shopped photos that portray you as the supermodel you always dreamed of being.The possibilities are endless.Reminds me of someone who ‘dated’ a man who told her he lived in a gated community,and she later found out she was chatting up a criminal within the confines of a jail!

Some people are very good in the written word,and can blow you away when they write,but make very poor conversationalists,and so they hide behind their computer screens and ‘date’ people who are more often than not in a different country-so they never have to meet..There is Skype,but even that can be manipulated.Then there are those who are very vocal online and off line,they leave you impressed with their writing skills and if you do get to meet,are quite as charming,the quintessential gentlemen.

A few years ago I met and fell prey to such a guy.I’ll call him Ethan for this story’s sake.Oh boy,was this guy smooth or what?We ‘met’ on a mutual friend’s wall.I was impressed by his good English.He was well educated,handsome(with dimples,and those who know me,know am a sucker for dimples)…eloquent,suave…a perfect gentleman who still believed in chivalry…I thought I’d found THE one.You can tell a lot about someone by the way they write,the books they read,their Facebook posts,and I was smitten.We started off with playful banter on mutual friends posts,took it to private messages via Facebook-took it a step further and exchanged phone numbers.He had a great sense of humour and we spent hours chatting via texts,until he introduced me to  little known application(then)-Whatsapp.I shudder to imagine the time I spent hunched over my phone,till sometimes 3 am!I was like a teenager in love..we talked for hours when he called.I had fallen hook,line and sinker.

By the time I came to a realisation that I was living in a bubble and this man was just stringing me a long,it took a while and it was almost too late.I had started to question his movements.I realised that I knew almost nothing about this man.I sat down with a mutual friend and the things we discovered,am still trying to come to terms with.He was too secretive,always claimed to be busy,travelling and a myriad other excuses.Ethan was just not the man I thought he was…and to cut a long story short,I discovered he was a con man and fed off other peoples’ hard earned cash.

I was devastated,which is understating it a lot.I still feel betrayed up to date.It still smarts,but only because I was so naive as to get caught up in a lie.I am thankful for a lot of things,most of all because my intuition got the better of my emotions.After I found out what he was,I confronted Ethan and he tried playing the victim,denied with righteous indignation and proceeded to cut off all ties.Blocked me on Facebook,changed all his numbers-he had 3,and that was it.Never heard from him again.I have since grown very wary of Facebook ‘dating’ 

My advise,be yourself,it’s all that you can, and ever can be.For guys,never chase a lady you do not intend to catch.I got lucky before it went too far,some poor girl might not be so fortunate.Be Real.Stay Real….



I think I am a very nostalgic person by nature.Sometimes I think I prefer living in the past than the present.Some will say am stuck in the past,sort of like a modern day Peter Pan who grows up,yet doesn’t grow up.. Nostalgia..\nä-ˈstal-jə: “A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past”-Something that has become more and more of an occurrence as I grow older and long for the ‘good old days.’In the 19th and 20th centuries,nostalgia was considered to be,and I quote, a ‘neurological disease of essentially demonic cause.” It was considered a disorder until it was found to be common around the world. I have always associated smells and songs to certain events in my life- olfactive memory .A certain smell can bring up a flood of memories,conjure up past events and make me feel nostalgic.And déjà vu,oh my!It’s creepy how one day you just wake up and spend the whole day feeling, ‘I’ve done this before,I’ve had this conversation again’ kinda feeling. I had a fantastic childhood.Life was good.Everything was as it was supposed to be,no complications.The outdoor was our canvas,we created new things,came up with new games.We went out there as early as seven or eight.And we played like our lives depended on it.Our mothers were not worried,they knew eventually hunger,thirst-and darkness would bring the children home to roost. 

I’m sure I was the naughtiest child alive in my day.I thrived on adventure and the danger it posed.We went fishing with my brother (although we caught a few tadpoles before we could differentiate!)we went berry hunting on the banks of River Chania.The black berry ,(or is it raspberry?We call them ‘ndare’ in our mother tongue) plant is a climber,and the sweetest,juiciest berries almost always were at the top of some tree branch that precariously hung over the river.We would climb up and crawl to pick the berries,not thinking the danger we were exposed to.If that branch gave way,I shudder to imagine what would have happened.One,I could not swim(I still can’t-hydrophobia,and that’s a story for another day) and the boys who did,could not save their cats if they fell in,even if their lives depended on it.Two,the river was -and still is infested by crocodiles and hippos!We were always up to no good,everyday we devised new ways of  getting into some mischief.

Boredom was a foreign language,T.V was only watched form 4pm, so we had a whole day to while away before the station was opened. Somehow,even with all the mischief, I still found time to read.Either way I HAD to read.My Dad (R.I.P) demanded we read two books every week.Woe unto you if you borrowed the books from the library and did not read them!You had to read them,and answer questions from the said books.Needless to say,Kibanch- my elder bro and partner in crime only read comics.While I was busy reading Famous Five,Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys(I think I now know where I got the adventuring spirit! I can’t believe it!I’ve just had my aha! moment..years later!) Sorry -moving on…Dad was hard bent on insisting Kibanch reads ‘sensible’ books but to no avail.We were different as night and day.He was an artist who invented stuff and designed all kinds of things.(Like the time he built an aquarium.He was obsessed,waking up in the middle of the night to check if it was leaking!) He was and still is,the family comedian.He has a way of making everyone around him laugh.He could really draw,thus I think his attraction to the comic books- Asterix, Tintin,Dennis the Menace and a myriad of others.I guess Dad finally realised he was never going to win and decided to be just content with the fact that,at least he was reading something,even if he did not approve!And so our lives were.My elder sister Sue and myself were more of the kind of readers he wanted,so he was content to just let us be.

Dad passed on 13 years this year.I miss him so.He never disappointed,did all that a father is supposed to.I feel sad that my son will never know his Grandpa,but he left a legacy that hopefully we can pass on to our kids.Mom is still going strong and we wish her many more years to come.She is the glue that held us together after Dad’s death,always staying strong.We fondly remember the good old days when we go home to visit..home brings back the memories-all good,not even one bad one surfaces cos honestly there is none.We bring out the old and dog eared albums and leaf through them,every photograph with a memory of it’s own.As we listen to Jim Reeves,Skeeter Davis,Charley Pride,all the music that he loved and we grew up listening to,we all can’t help but think wistfully of days gone by.We let the feelings wash over us,of the pain of losing him,the joy of having had him with us for the time we did.We allow ourselves to just feel the nostalgia.


Things that make you go hmmm….

A lot has been said,and will continue to be said about love.And I keep wondering,what is this love they talk about?It is told of love ever lasting and happily ever after..a knight in shining armour that is supposed to come and sweep me off my feet and ride off with me into the sunset…ahem,sorry to burst his bubble if he’s out there,or reading this.One,am an African woman,with flesh in all the right places,filled out to perfection(well,almost,but what the heck,I love me as I am…),so sweeping me off my feet better not be literal.Two,knight?OK,forget the armour part,most(sorry guys,not that I love any of you any less) are just idiots in tin foil- oh back to my point..knights were and have always been associated with chivalry,something that is sadly lacking in most men.Opening doors,holding seats for the ladies and pouring drinks?History.A guy will call to take you out,you dress to kill and to thrill…you are on a high,expecting romance at it’s best.First,he doesn’t pick you up-dudes,you do not have to own a car to pick her up.Go by her place,leave together…and for Pete’s sake dress like a man going on a date,not an ex convict with trousers sagged so low you have to waddle like a duck so the trousers don’t fall off.Neatness is paramount if you want to keep the girl and get that second and third date.

A real gentleman is sensitive to a fault.DO NOT,I repeat,DO NOT-I hope I’m shouting loud enough,take her to your neighbourhood pub.If you have some money,dude,good for ya,make it work for you.Take her to a nice restaurant,dinner,wine, the works.Now,if you ain’t got no money,then boy,you gotta let your imagination work for you.Look for simple fun things to do,and no,am not going to do the thinking for you,so I won’t even suggest what you can do.DO NOT,under any circumstance,fiddle with your phone while she is busy waxing lyrical about how this has got to be the happiest day of her life…why am I even telling you guys this?Oh I know,common sense ain’t common!

Ladies,ladies ladies….there is a whole lot of stuff I could tell you.Number one being,act like a lady.Two-please do not down a whole bottle of wine just because it tastes better than the local brew you are used to!Do not embarrass yourself if you want a second,third,fourth-oh alright,if you want marriage(can’t believe I said that out loud) and kids.Three and four,refer to one above.Do not for the love of God start talking of marriage on day one.Trust me,he will run so fast you’ll only see the dust…Now,I have completely gone off topic,but some things have to be said.So,where was I?Oh,I was talking about love..Supposedly when you meet ‘The One,’you will know.I wonder how you know,cos definitely I haven’t met him yet-and I wonder if I will.If he is out there,then he better be A LOT of things.I read a lot of fairy tales and romance novels when I was a kid,but someone ought to tell young girls that love is not,”smoldering eyes and fire in the loins’ kinda thing.I think,and this is just me,that love is what is left when you take away the romance.If you still love that person,even with his noisy chewing and smelly socks-and her with her incessant talking and the soaps-yes the soaps,then you’ve got something going.Someone who you can be yourself with,who shares most interests-books,music,you laugh at the same  jokes-and you can literally finish each others sentences..then maybe,just maybe you have found love.So,whilst I wait for my Romeo,I will just watch from the sidelines and if I go out with you and we don’t click,it’s nothing personal.I have long learnt that I live my life on my terms,and no one is responsible for my happiness.And so,to quote Aaron Neville’s song,”somewhere somebody’s waiting,longing,somewhere somebody,is waiting for me….”These for me,are the things that make me go hmmmm….



I have always wanted to write.No,scrap that.The order is,I have always loved writing,and I have always wanted to write.When I was in form one,my friend Judy and I swore on everything that was sacred to us that we’d be authors,even if we died trying.That was the highlight of reading Pace Setters,Sweet Vally High,Mills and Boon,Temptations,and now that we were in High school,Danielle Steele and Sidney Sheldon.We at the height of our naivety-and creativity, thought a novel took one week to pen.We were on the right track though,our passion for the idea was endearing,the only problem we had no vision,only a mission.So the idea died a noble death,but like the Phoenix,might rise from it’s ashes,for the ember is there,it just needs to be fanned.

  Writing is just putting thoughts on paper.Simple,right?For some reason,I start out with a brilliant idea,if it’s a story all the characters are vivid,then I sit to write,and my mind goes blank.This is a call to all the writers out there…is this what they call a pre-writer’s block?Or is it that I do not try hard enough?Or is it that I have not fanned the embers hard enough?Or is it that am just not meant to write?I concur with the former,unless someone comes up with concrete evidence of the latter.So here I am,with my own blog,and if am to publish it, it needs to have readable content that makes some sense to the people out there who stumble upon it.How much is enough?How much is too much,or too little?Is there a limit to the amount of words I can write?Can I even find those words?Should I write in an ordered manner or is it permissible to just rant,rave and wax lyrical about this,the other,or even nothing at all?

  “Cowards die many times before their death.The valiant only taste of  death but once.” The famous words of Shakespeare in Julius Caesar…and so this gets me thinking.The worst I can do is be that coward that fears death.If I do not get out there,write whatever is on my mind,my dream will have died a million times over by the time I die,so I figure the best I can do is just write.Be it gibberish,but keep on writing,maybe,just maybe one day the gibberish may make sense.I read blogs and go all wow on them,and I think,Lord this person really write!Am henceforth venturing,going all out into this uncharted territory.All criticism is welcome,negative and positive-after all,ANY critic is better than none! Time to chase my dreams and stop being complacent.The time is now.Nothing can ever stop an idea whose time has come.