When coming down to the physical world makes you uneasy, just relax and enjoy your moments here on earth - Jenda Lovelylady Poet
“Mum,
it is Meru,” I told my mum very excited about the email I received from
G-United. All night long I dreamed of the new life and experience I was going
to live. A new culture, new environment and strange people I would call family
for the rest of the year.
I was
more excited than fearful of what awaited me in Meru County.
“You
are fearless, you are going to make it,” my brother’s words kept ringing in my
head as my new family welcomed me to their home.
Like in
my family back at home, I was the first born to my new family, with five
brothers and two sisters, all looking at me yearning to hear the words I’d say
to them.
We
talked through the night as the rain poured mercilessly. It felt like home.
Just
then, dinner time arrived. As a good guest I waited to be served though I was
dying inside to serve them, I mean, it is always the responsibility for the
first kid in the house to ensure others are served and okay.
The
culture that blew me off about Meru people is their ways of preparing food. I
was stunned on how they were able to mix kales, beans with maize flour.
“It is
called Mokinde,” my little brother, Muthuma told me when I asked what it was.
In two
weeks I hadn’t gathered the courage to cook because I feared my style of cooking
might be met with different reactions.
After a
couple of days I finally gathered strength I had and told my new mom that I
would help her cook.
The
smile on her face motivated me even more to cook for my big family.
Dark
clouds outside had gathered spreading the reign of darkness yet it was not
night.
Quickly
I gathered what I considered enough firewood to cook for the family, both
dinner and dessert.
My
little sisters were also excited and after school they came straight to the
kitchen. We talked, laughed as I got busy with preparing Githeri meal for the
family.
No
sooner had I placed the cooking pot on the fire than, the rain started to pour
as it did on almost all daily basis.
This
night though the rain poured more and more as time went by. The meal was on its
final preparation when the worst happened.
Suddenly,
I noticed rain water entering the kitchen. I thought to myself, maybe the water
will stop entering the kitchen. But no, water started getting into the kitchen
from every corner.
My
worst fear was confirmed when the water was looking for its way into my cooking
fire. I watched helplessly as the raging water made its way to my fire with my
broth sitting majestically on the three cooking stones.
Yes,
the water did put out my fire; my meal was not fully prepared as I hoped it
would be.
Defeated
by the water, I removed my firewood and placed them aside. The rain had not
shown any signs to stop, it kept pouring through out.
I
couldn’t bring myself to face my host mom of the rain spoiling my broth. I sat
in the dark listening to the rain tune on the roof.
My
thoughts raced, it was not my fault, I knew but somehow I felt guilty. I was
determined to blow everyone’s mind with my cooking skills. Yes, I am a good
cook, I have been told more than enough.
Meekly,
I made my way to the main house and narrated my ordeal to my mom with the help
of my two sisters who were laughing at the incident; at least it was funny to
someone else.
“Oh
Brenda, pole, I will ask dad to dig trenches around the kitchen so that water
does not spoil your mood again,” she replied lovingly with concern written all
over her face.
I
sighed, served the meal to the family as we listened to the heavy down pour. My
eyes were hovering around my family members face to see their reaction as they
ate the half cooked meal.
When my
little brothers took the first bite and whispered to each other I knew
something was up. My sister exclaimed out loud, “Mum, Brenda should be cooking
more. Hii food ni tamu,” she said.
My
siblings chipped in praising my not fully cooked meal.
“Brenda,
unapika vizuri, nani alikufunza?” my mother asked.
I could
feel my lips smiling uncontorobly, my soul was jumping up and down dancing at
its own music.
My
heart was beating very fast, and my ears were touching the tips of the smiling
lips.
“Its my
mother back at home,” I replied shyly.
Just
then, my new dad came in soaking from the rain. He explained that the rain was
not going to stop and decided to come home.
“The
food smells good,” he commented when the aroma from the meal hit his nose.
“Brenda
has cooked for us today,” Muthuma told him.
“And
the rain water put out the fire before she could finish cooking,” added my mum.
We all
laughed about it, and it felt so good.
The
rain had spoiled the fire place and we had to eat dinner without dessert, which
is tea.
As soon
as we had finished the evening meal, the rain decreased and stopped after a few
minutes.
As I
cleaned up after the family I noticed all plates were ‘clean’ and no food
remained in the pot, which is odd than usual.
I went
to bed angry at the rain but my heart and mind were smiling.
“Too
much rain, too much love,” I whispered to myself before sleeping.
Brenda Gamonde.
