This is a story decades in making. I don’t know where it starts. I don’t know how it ends. Discovering home by Binyavanga Wainaina, that’s where this beautiful journey begins. Then, One day I Will Write About This Place. Finally, A Lost Chapter. I enjoyed reading A Lost chapter, where Binyavanga opens up to his late mother about his sexual preferences. This is a thorny subject in our society. Our CU Prezzo profiles them, “Watu wa ile pande ingine. Ha ha ha. Anyway, read A LOST CHAPTER, doesn’t matter whether you’re straight or wa ile pande ingine, it’s a beautiful story of a man discovering his sexuality.
Enter Yvonne Owuor, Dust and The Dragonfly Sea.
Saturday morning.
I am not 100%. I can still feel the residues of Friday’s drinking. I am not hung over. I am tired, hungry, sleepy & bored. I could be anywhere in the world. I could be at home sleeping off the copious amounts of vodka in my system.
I find myself at the Kenya National Theatre. On my left is an Italian man, we’ve talked a bit, but I am drowsy. I’ve promised to have a much serious conversation in the afternoon, but then, will I be there?
I am not one to make plans. I believe in living in the moment. While plans are okay, I am suspicious of them. All of my best moments have been unplanned, unmarked on the calendar. Moments which fell out of the sky, when the stars aligned and prophecies were fulfilled.
Thus, when I saw the email inviting me for this event, deep down I knew I had to be there, much thanks to Anja.
Saturday I was a ghost, stalking the side-lines, I didn’t participate, my concentration was scattered. I run into Kahinga Okwembwa, we first met years back while I was in high school. In those buried years, I was part of PEN Club International. Flanked by Tony Mochama & Prof Chris Wanjala, these Literary titans blessed us with their experiences & wisdom.
Almost a decade later, I am meeting someone who irrigated the seeds of my then amateur copy. And now we’re talking about my upcoming book, A STRANGER.
Sunday = Action
A poet at the entrance shares his experience.
“At the time of Kibaki, they said I am a Raila person…When Raila got involved in government, they called me a Ruto person, now that Ruto is in government, the say I am an Uhuru mole.”
I understand his plight. As an artist capturing his poetry in the much volatile Kenyan political space, he’s bound to square up against the government of the day. We joshed around about how he’s been expert at evading DCI death squads.
Gurnah shared his journey from Zanzibar to the UK & shifting from the sciences to literature. There was an honesty to his background story that’s rare to find. I liked how he went on with his life while still writing, starting a family, doing his doctoral studies & holding other jobs.
An outsider watching, I immensely liked his demeanour. To me, he seemed the wizened grandfather. I am yet to read his works, I sure will in the future. I forgot to ask him a certain question. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to talk to a Nobel winner again, but if I do, I’ll pose the said question to them.
The rest of the band played on with a new found harmony. The inaugural Macondo event in 2019 was good, this one was better. The organisers did their homework, I am looking forward to Macondo 2023.
The highlight of this event was connecting with two of my boys. We’d not seen each other in a minute, then on Sunday, the heavens aligned, we had a little sit down. Over a celebrated spirit from down south, we joshed around and talked about everything. From art to writing, to women, society, football, sun worship, psychedelics, why a Cockrel crows at 3 am. & not 9 p.m. My brother joined us for a bit before we descended into the CBD. More of this encounter might be revealed later.
I encountered my Kid Cuzo too. Twas just after lunch, your’s truly was enjoying a glass of the sweetest sugarcane juice on this side of the equator, a voice float towards me.
“You seem familiar.”
While picking between Open Water & Bad Love, we flipped a coin. Guess which book she bought?
