May I Have Some More?

People can compliment you on your cooking, your writing; whatever creations you make. They can say things like:
"Wow, you're talented."
"That was really good."
"I really enjoyed that."
And they mean it, and they're sincere and you probably believe them half the time. But you know what the greatest compliment a person can give your work is?
"Can I have more?"
It's true for food, movie sequels, and sex. It is most definitely true for stories.
And because a lovely young lady on Facebook asked me this week if I have more of the Ben and Zawadi story (that's what she called it) here is an outtake.
Enjoy.

"Zawadiiii!"
Anders startled awake at the sound of their mother shouting. He blinked a few times, trying to acclimatize to the brightness of the sun, shining through his yellow curtains. There was no response from Zawadi's room, just across from his, and he sighed, slipping out of bed to go shake her awake before their mother decided to do it.
If their mother had to come and find Zawadi, the day would not begin well. He trudged across the darkened hallway and banged on his sister's door.
"Z! Unaitwa," he shouted, telling her she was being called.
He heard some muffled groaning from the other side of the door but not much else.
"Zawadi eh!" his mother called sounding much nearer, "Kuja unisaidie." (come help me)
Anders sighed, deciding to just go down himself and help his mother before everybody's day was ruined. Ever since her father had left, Zawadi had been cold and distant with both of them.
But especially Anders.
She blamed him for their mother throwing her father out.
Thirteen years of doing nothing but drinking mnazi and spending their mother's hard earned money all the while insulting her first born child could not be it. Oh no, it was Anders who made mama chase her baba away!
Anders sighed, shaking his head as dismissed those thoughts. He took a step out the front door to find his mother with her basket of curios, ready to go to the market. He picked up a bag and put it on his head, and gripped another in his hand.
He walked slowly and silently behind his mother as they made their way to the matatu stage. She didn't ask where Zawadi was and he didn't volunteer. They both knew that only time could heal that wound.
They reached the bus stop, Anders' arms aching from the weight of the baskets. He put them both down, standing with his mother as they waited for a matatu to come.
"When you grow up and have your own children," his mother said suddenly, "make sure you will stay with their mother and support her until they grow up."
Anders nodded, his face troubled. He knew his father had gone back to Scandinavia long ago. Now Zawadi's father had left. But...he didn't think he could stay with a woman forever. His eyes slid to his right, where the Akasha boys were hanging out outside their shop like they did every day. There was one, in particular, he was tall and lanky, with light brown eyes and curly soft hair. Anders couldn't help staring every time he passed them. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful.
He looked up at his mother, brow furrowed, wondering what she would think if she knew.
Not that he would ever tell her.
Never in a million years.

So in this book, I try to capture the local flavor of life as a Kenyan; although that is not a homogenous experience at all so it's just my interpretation. So there's some Kiswahili mixed in (all of which gets translated if only in the footnotes) and Kenyanisms that other people might wonder at (also check footnotes. My beta was an American so she was really helpful in pointing things out other people might not understand). Yeah, so do get back to me and tell me how I did. I would love to know.
Also, I entered this book in a book contest on inkitt if you wanna like go there and show In Search of Paradise some love.

Trust

A few weeks ago, I decided I needed a new carpet because my old one was getting a little raggedy. I thought about various strategies to get one including fundraising. In fact, that's how I came across the idea of starting a ko-fi page. Nobody wants to give something for nothing huh?
Anyway today, I got a new carpet. Well, not new, new. Just new to me - and all I paid for it was transportation costs.
I put something out there into the universe, believed that I had already received it, and then let it go. Yesterday my sister writes in the group chat, "Anyone who wants a carpet, come collect it."
And I have a carpet.
My next project is, I need a new sofa.
I've followed a few furniture accounts on Instagram, spend some time every day looking at the sofa I want (yeah, it looks like the picture below) and believing that I have already received it. I also updated my ko-fi with my new goal.
I have faith that sooner or later, I shall have my sofa.

Remember that I told you about how things unfold the way they should if you're paying attention? Today was that kind of day. I decided to use a bus instead of a minivan to go to town and they turned into Mbagathi road, the direction I was going, instead of going down Nairobi West like they usually do. It's rare for transport to turn into Mbagathi road after 11am in the morning and it was going on 3pm. So that really made me feel like I should update my bio to Maker of Good Decisions.
Then after I got the carpet, my sister called me a taxify (which is like Uber but allegedly cheaper) but it broke down somewhere along the way so the driver put me in a matatu (PSV) with my carpet and I just like propped it in front of me. My seatmates were very accommodating of me (which is kind of par for the course in my neighborhood but still).
The matatu dropped us off at a petrol station rather than the bus stage and so I dragged my carpet over to the adjoining Pizza Inn and had myself some lunch while I pondered my next move. Just as I was done and searching, a motorcycle (known as a boda-boda) drove in and was filling up his tank. I asked him if he was working and he said yeah. I was thinking that I would ask him to take me to the bus stage but he asked where I live and told me the rate for taking me all the way. Now I've been spilled by a motorbike twice this year but for some reason, I was like, "he looks competent enough."
So I let him take me all the way and we rode up and down these hills with the sun going down and got to witness the most magnificent sunset, with the wind whipping past at speed and nothing between me and the view. Scary and beautiful to say the least.
So I got home, minimal expenditure (except for lunch - but it was clearly part of the process) and a new carpet!

The main point of taking you through my tedious ass story about a carpet is to show you how the universe works to guide you if you let it. We work so hard sometimes, overthinking everything and not really getting anywhere. Worrying ourselves into high blood pressure or ulcers, maybe worse. Yet if we just let go and trust the process, we might find that we get where we need to be by the most scenic, interesting route that can be devised for us. At the end of the day, we would have to declare that, "That was quite a ride!"
It's difficult I know, to let go and let God. It mostly feels like stupidity to trust that all will be well when there's no evidence that this is the case. Hell, my own son has made fun of me for having this attitude. My sisters tell me I live on the edge.
I really don't.
I have come to a place where I have seen over and again that the universe comes through. I have come to a place of trust. I trust myself, I trust that my belief is not misplaced, I trust the process. It seems easy but it's the most difficult thing I've ever learned.

My son is eighteen this year and I can say with utmost truthfulness that he is alive, healthy and well because the universe has watched out for him. So many times I was without recourse; I had no way out. But a way was found. And my work is almost done. So when people ask me, "How can you just trust with no evidence that the universe will come through?"

I point to my living breathing child.

There's the evidence.

This post has been uncommonly heavy I know but I wanted you to know that even when everyone abandons you, you are not alone. So reach out, help is just waiting to take your hand and lead you home. 

Trust and believe my brothers and sisters.

This sermon has been brought to you by Pastor Annamaria. The collection box is to your right. 

Keep that Same Energy, September

September is wildin' out! It's not even a quarter done and already so much shit has happened it's hard to keep track.
I mean not for me personally. My life is puttering along in the most mundane fashion. If I wasn't addicted to Twitter, I would be having a fairly boring existence right now.
Or maybe work-productive. I might have finished my current 4.5k assignment on Perfect Exposure by now. I might have finished part three of my sci-fi story assignment (doubtful). I might have finished editing the Harlequin Romance I'm writing. Or even the wincest big bang...
Social Media is the devil.

So first things first, Cardi B threw a shoe at Nicki Minaj during a fashion week party. It all started long ago when Cardi started breaking records Nicki has never touched and Nicki began subbing her on twitter, liking tweets shading Cardi B and her family, even her daughter (I am always bemused that someone who's brother is a convicted pedophile rapist can have anything bad to say about anyone else's children but here we are).
Now Nicki is a talented rapper but her personality is all passive aggressive, negative, small-minded bullshit. Cardi B is an okay rapper, but her personality is big-hearted, genuine, shoot from the hip type of person. What you see is what you get. So when she saw Nicki at this party, all the resentment she'd been holding back, all the little stings...well, let's say all the chickens came home to roost. Her shiny red heel came off and went flying across the room...at Nicki.

I see posts on twitter from minds still colonized wondering what 'all those white designers will think' now.
Who cares?
It really upsets me when people miss the pertinent things about a story and just go straight to the bullshit. Nicki Minaj has a history of harassment and bullying of anyone she considers to be competition. She and Safaree were truly a match made in heaven with their subbing and passive aggression and underhanded tactics.
Soulmates.
Cardi B is just out here trying to live.
Bullying is not okay. Worrying about 'what people - especially white people - will think is so 1958. Vilifying someone for fighting back when they are bullied is not okay. I don't agree with how she decided to fight back, but I do acknowledge that for Americans, violence is the go-to solution for all their problems.
If it was me and I intended to do physical bodily harm to someone, I would not broadcast it by coming in all brandishing my shoe. Nope, slow and careful, smiling. Then when I'm up close, bitch slap.

Of course, I much prefer to solve my problems with words. Lotsa words. I know a lot of them. And I'm good at using them. But we all play to our strengths right?
Speaking of playing your strengths, the legend that is Serena Williams lost the US Open finals today. It was a fraught time for us all. I didn't watch the match but by all accounts, Naomi Osaka played well.
She might have won anyway, I don't know.
But thanks to a stupid ass umpire, the focus is all on the controversy rather than the match. I don't usually approve of trolling but if I had Carlos Ramos' twitter name, I would so write him a think piece thread about how not to umpire a match.
Just with everything that's been happening in Tennis lately - with the Serena catsuit situation, the French chick penalized for turning her shirt the right way round, and now this - I think the sport is long overdue for an overhaul. Women need to take over management positions, umpires, the works.
The game is biased.
Biased against women.
Biased against women of color.
Biased against Serena Williams specifically...
Fair.
Fairness.
Equity.
Men do not seem to understand the meanings of these words!
Gosh, I am so irked.

Also happening in September, Mac Miller OD'd - may he rest in peace - and people are blaming Ariana for it. I think we have reached a point in society where when something happens we immediately just look for the nearest person to get angry at.
Except for that umpire at the USopen, because that was totally his fault.
It isn't Ariana's fault that Mac Miller is dead. He was taking life-threatening drugs before Ariana met him and she left him because of his addiction. You cannot save people. The only person who can save you is you. So blaming Ariana is not only stupid, it's ignorant and sexist. I don't see y'all trolling Bobby Brown because Whitney died.
Oh, also Bobby Brown's life story came out. I haven't seen it. I watched it on twitter which I suspect was far more entertaining than watching the actual program. Apparently, he was Janet Jackson's side piece. And he married the woman who talked him out of chickening out of marrying Whitney.
oops.
Did I forget to say spoilers?

On the local front, our most revered and wise president decided to add 16% VAT on fuel to pay for all his Chinese loans, and now nothing is affordable. Hustling has consequently been revved up times a thousand since we still have needs. So in addition to everything else, you'll see a blue widget inviting you to buy me a ko-fi on this site. If you enjoy my writing and wish to say "thanks for brightening my day Annemarie," that's how you can do it. No pressure though. I still love you all for reading.

I almost forgot the most important thing that happened this September!
Colin Kaepernick was announced as the face of Nike.
Now I've been with Kap from day one but many of you can only jump on the bandwagon because of corporate endorsement - or is it white people endorsement?
Anyways, this news fills me with so much happiness I can't even tell you. The ad is so inspiring I downloaded it to my phone so I can watch it anytime I'm feeling uninspired or the world becomes particularly ugly.
And y'all do get ugly.
I saw a post reporting that a whole entire Mayor had banned the employees of his local parks and rec from buying or wearing Nike products. It's difficult for me to comprehend that level of...just wrong. So I tried to equate it to the dark days before the post-election crisis and what lengths Kikuyus would go to, to run from the poison of their stance vis a vis the rest of the country. It starts with leadership.
It's people like Colin who shine a little light and provide a direction for anyone seeking not to drown in malevolence.
I salute him.
I salute all you keepers of the light.

Kamikaze

First of all, I loved Revival. Let's just start there. I don't care how many albums it sold. Sometimes people don't appreciate greatness. Doesn't make it any less great.
The thing with Eminem though, you can't listen to him when you have a stick up your ass. You gotta extract that stick, sit back, relax and just...listen.
This is a review of Eminem's surprise album, Kamikaze.

I've been reading some reviews on the blogs versus Twitter. The latter are clearly fans while the former are the stick-up-the-ass people. Imagine complaining about Eminem using non-politically correct language. When has he ever been politically correct?
Never.
That's the correct answer.
But it's 2018 and we're searching desperately every day for something to get upset about. Because that's who we are now.
Eminem is very freeing. He doesn't care about your feelings. Fuck your feelings.

The whole Eminem brand is about being disrespectful.
But that's not all it is. No, not by a long shot. Eminem is about saying it like he sees it. It's about uncomfortable truth. Noone is safe. Not even Eminem.
You might know that I have a hard-on for honesty so naturally, Eminem is really up there in my top five faves. I cannot recommend this album enough. It's classic Eminem. Slim Shady in the house. If you're old enough to understand the jokes, it's also really funny. So you can listen to it for the music, or the lyrics, or the sheer entertainment value of shading everyone.
I like to multitask so I listen for all of the above.
Also, that DYSFUNCTIONAL relationship he has with his wife/girlfriend is always fun to hear/scary as fuck. They are so white trash. No other rapper goes there, just lets you into how crazy a girl can make a guy. But Eminem does - he gives a window into the crazy of what relationships are REALLY like out here in these skreets.
"I love you but I hope you fucking die though," is a lyric that I think we can all relate to.

I had to write this because...well I had to. If you haven't yet listened to Kamikaze, I cannot recommend it enough. Especially if you have some mental health challenge like I do. It's made for us crazies. Hit play and find out that you're not alone.
Have you visited my author page yet?
Why not?
There's the link, click on it.