Tying my lesso

chanyado

What I remember about that night were the sounds. The scraping of the bed being dragged across the floor. The insistent pounding of fists at the door. The thudding of my heart echoing in my ears. The muttering of prayer tumbling out of my mouth in a stream of whispering.

They had come after me.

Earlier that evening the driver of the matatu I was travelling in kicked us out slurring, ‘nimechoka. Tokeni.’ Though we tried to protest, his erratic swerving had left us jittery and we felt we were safer walking than being at the mercy of this drunken driver. So several hundred metres away from Oyugis, we started walking. I was on my way to a funeral and was carrying a huge white box overflowing with flowers, stuffed with the wreaths I had been asked to bring from Kisumu.

The walk is a blur to me, but I…

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Been trying to write something, anything to keep up with my intention of publishing more than once in a long while. The past fortnight has been of sadness for me, so it’s been difficult for me to keep motivation to write up. Especially to write something that isn’t frivolous. Then I read a reminder, that writing involves anything, no reason to be embarrassed; and even if you are, no reason not to just write until you can’t anymore. Hopefully, this doesn’t end up being unfinished.

And what is this?

This is me realising that I haven’t written a wedding scene in all but one of my stories since high school. And that’s saying something cause it’s been twelve years since the last wedding scene I remember writing. Then again, I haven’t written a barrage of books since then. It’s difficult to have a collection of titles when you find everything you write subpar when you’re halfway through. But, for someone who writes romance; isn’t that off?

I think it’s partly because I have a fear of weddings.

It’s not a phobia; no. I attend weddings with thrill, most of the time. I mean, I fear having to craft a wedding. Thinking up of things that best suit the characters, that is sweet, and encompassing of passion, love, and commitment. I dislike doing that. The best scene(according to friends who’ve read my work) I’ve ever written for a wedding was one between people who got married for money. It was cold, procedural; and hinted at malice. I don’t feel comfortable writing happy go lucky weddings, which is probably reflective of personal revulsion to commitment. That, I am phobic of.

Also, finding things to do with weddings that would appeal to me. There are too many dresses, so many great spaces; and even better types of cakes, and themes; I would derail myself from the story, and spend thousands of words on something that would in essence be of small significance to the story. I don’t how wedding planners do it; or maybe they do it cause they love the frustration, and chaos that comes with choosing things for a wedding.

Anyway this realisation is making me want to change that. I don’t know which story to write it on; or maybe I should do outtakes of presently written stories. But I want to be able to tell myself that I once wrote a fabulous wedding scene, and it was great for me.

Kenya Men Have Failed Their Women