malindi

He also knew how the sea was with certain people, how it needed them and they it.- Dragonfly Sea, Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor.

You have to tell yourself I’m proud of you over and over again until you believe it.

Some good ways to do that are:

Surviving a week in South Korea where a woman gives you an 11.27a.m. deadline and then asking the Malindi bus conductor what time you expect to arrive and he says Ni Mungu tu ndiye anajua Madame.

Sitting in the hot water pooled between the Indian Ocean and the Sabaki, alone for as far as you can see, hugging your knees to your chest, looking at all the blues the ocean manages to make beautiful, saying I love you, I’m happy for you, I’m proud of you.

Riding on a bajaji on the highway from Malindi to Mambrui, stealing glances at the impossible beauty of Kingi’s eyelashes through the side mirror, letting the wind attempt to apologize to your nyama choma back for what the sunshine did.

Saving the purple bougainvillea from the water over and over again until you realize that it likes that electricity generated from having so much life that death’s closeness is hidden.

Finding a child whose soul comes out of her body with the same force the waves used to break against the cliff and splash onto us. Watching the zebra and lion and cheetah blush from her affection.

Never getting enough of your shadow as a star-shaped heartbeat drifting on the swimming pool floor.

Cold passion juice with the seeds still in it, pasta, seafood, noting all the places with the white waves and waves and the everythingness where Kingi claims the ocean cannot swallow you. In the hypnosis, letting Uwem Akpan write his way into your life, first with the caution one does new people on first dates, then with the abandon one does friends of friends with whom it just has to work, I guess. (He writes: “Selling your child or nephew could be more difficult than selling other kids….”)

Hashim says (and Hashim never lies) that the blue which the shakwe bird keeps flaunting is from when he steals the water’s fish and the water tattoos him in return. I want my home to be fierce when I’m taken away from it.

I feel like I belong on a bookmark with a deep quote when I seat on the plank outside my bedroom window and read under the moonlight with the clouds above me and the oceans and the town’s lights in the distance seducing my eyes.

I waved at the cat with the shiny black fur and the glassy green eyes. It followed me home.

The water came for me again. I looked My Life in the face and she was a beauty. Water likes to break the lock on the door of My Life, walk in while dangling his keys, whistle and sway his stomach left to right before telling me that I will always belong to him. This time My Life told him that’s ok and then said but are you sure and for the first time Water did not leave a stench only I could smell when he left.

If that lobster- which looked like those genius Nigerian artists had found it and painted it orange and that it now belonged only on a throne- had been my last meal, there would have been dignity in my death.

You- you learned to lure my spirit back from the Grim Reaper long before you learned to claim my body back in the same way.

Akwaeke Emezi said that they have an image of what it is they want in life that helps them go through the little tasks that can feel annoying. For me, that is a tie between the feeling of sitting at the top of the boat in the middle of the ocean listening to Afrobeats and that of standing on a windy cliff and gulping the view of the ocean with greed but never finishing it.

When numbers loved me I found that there were two ways to calculate a truth. The first is by making logical step by step efforts to do so. The second is by starting from the result and working backwards. I’m glad that the result for us is happiness even if I do not yet know the steps that led to it.

 

*Psst I am soft launching a Patreon for paying readers, in which I will duplicate okasungora pieces (because open access). If you are capable, sign up to support my work: https://www.patreon.com/posts/malindi-26357664 Thanks.

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