Six Word Saturday

BritPride brims, inside I'm Kenyan.

Given I'm hardly an athlete, I'd forgotten how moving I find the Olympics. And its squared, cubed, I discover when they're held in your country.  There's been the procession of the Olympic torch round the UK, - at the bottom of the road of my childhood home, past the local library and the fishing tackle shop;  through Welwyn Garden City, our smalltown home, past the children's much loved preschool.  When the Torch comes to Sketty, well you know this must be something different.  University of Hertfordshire where I worked till recently, student accommodation fully booked with police officers from around the country on security duty.  A young woman from the children's school in Kenya competing for Britain in the swimming.  The cyclists lining up on The Mall. Driving to work a few weeks ago, and watching a matatu-full of Kenyan athletes, in full team dress, unload outside the British High Commission, and excited, giggling, enter to get their visas.  Somehow it's all more personal this time, it touches me in a different, deeper place.

We've just watched part of the Opening Ceremony, and again I felt that pride at how it had been done. I haven't yet seen the extravaganza, but yes, the NHS for me so deserves its place of honour in our nation's celebration. The parity of ethnicity and gender - that my country has athletes of all races representing it - not the case everywhere. That it was young athletes - the sport's future not its past - who lit the flame. That young people who need their identity strengthened are given this honour, not those with the established weight of success behind them. The flame's honour guard of the 500 workers who helped build the stadium.  They wouldn't have been acknowledged in so many countries. And that each country competing has women athletes on its team, for the first time ever.  As the camera panned in on the Saudi women athletes, well we were all with them.

At BigCorporate I'm one of only two non-Kenyans of thousands of staff. It affects how I see myself.  When I lived in Madagascar, surrounded by tiny, petite, willowy women, that was how I saw myself, till the rude rearrival at Charles De Gaulle airport, when in a stroke I put on two stone and several inches.  And at BigCorporate I'm surrounded by twenty year olds from rural backgrounds, who herded goats on foot, ran tens of miles to primary school and back each day, but thanks to good exam results now work in suits.  They are runners, though for them its nothing special, rather like I'm a driver - it's a means of transport. So for now, in my mind I'm a marathon runner too, I'm a Kenyan who has herded goats, and surrounded by Kenyans who are so conscious of the chasm between success and hopes dashed, I'm out there rooting for them all.

Six Word Saturday is part of a global bloghop hosted by Cate at http://www.showmyface.com/.  Now go there and visit the others!

Six Word Saturday

Fond reencounters favourite toys,  bullish shoppers.

It's the second week of the school holidays. We've been clearing bedrooms, rootling again in the toy cupboard, testing the water on which toys might be dispensed with to be sold at the car boot sale. 

I've been nostalgic. We've decided we won't be moving the toy train set - complete with Thomas, James & Duncan, various engine houses, a turntable, complex tunnels and ring formations - and many happy adult memories, when we come to leave Kenya.  I've been sorting the multiracial duplo firemen, hydrant and firestation - brought back by Tom from a workshop in Norway - the animals - crocodile, monkey, dolphin and more - given by our lovely first childminder, Helen, and the hundreds of duplo pieces. We spent a happy afternoon sorting the picture books, Mog the Forgetful Cat, The Gruffalo, Kipper and Roly the hamster who gets lost in the bedroom and more.
'Oh do you remember?'

When we were last decluttering, prior to coming here, I was unnerved when a schoolmum friend said sternly:
'But surely you'll be saving these for the grandchildren.'
Looking at (then) nine year old Firstborn and six year old SecondBorn, it was hard to believe we'd get to that stage.  This time it was somewhat different. Even ten year old SecondBorn rescued a pile of favourite books, 'Not now Bernard' and others, 'For my children.'
Bless. How lovely he'd want to pass on those special times too.

So it was rosy glow time when I set out for the carboot sale. But sales roles in Kenya are no times for rosy glows.  I set fair prices. Half price  - if in good condition and a year old - or a third or less if much older of what we paid. £40 for over 300 pieces of duplo.  £40 for the trainset, four or five sets combined. Probably around a fifth or a tenth what similar volumes of things would cost here, if they were available.  I get that shoppers can choose whether to buy, or not. Of course. But wealthy Kenyan shoppers are used to having all the power as they bargain, with a seller who'd quite like their children to eat tonight. Are used, many of them, to wiping the floor with their less powerful sellers. And that gets right up my nose.  I'd far rather walk from a sale than let my happy memories with the duplo firemen go with someone who doesn't show me minimal recognition, let alone offering a likelihood of a happy home for the set.

'What you need to do is to give me a much better price to get that trainset off your hands,' said one haughty woman offering a third of the reasonable price I was asking.
'Ah but you know, I'd rather give it to the remand home where I know the children have nothing, if I choose to give it away.'
I didn't say it, but I thought it.
It's like at the school's fundraising fete, in which each year raises money for their chosen charity, for our year an orphanage. In my first year, one welldressed woman picked up ten copies of Tatler, clearly marked at 100 KSh a copy.
'That'll be a thousand KSh please.'
Oh dear, but I only have 200 KSh, what do you suggest?'
'Well given that we are all here without pay, selling things we've donated, to raise money for an orphanage where the children don't even have enough to eat, I suggest you put back eight copies so we can see if someone who does have the money will buy them.'
But it isn't the way here. Bargaining is part of the deal. And a seller who behaves as though she has the power to remove the item from an unfair deal, well that really isn't playing the game.

This is part of a global bloghop - Six Word Saturday, run by Cate. To see the others click here: http://www.showmyface.com/

Six Word Saturday

'All present and correct? Cwtch up.'

It's been a twitchy week for a Mum who basically likes having all the chicks around her, where they can be counted. 

Nine year old SecondBorn and his classmates have been off at the coast, six hours away, learning more about this term's slavery topic in Mombasa.  They had a ball and he DID take his malaria tablets daily, did put on suncream and repellents, might even have brushed his hair once or twice.  But any independent trip started by writing our air ambulance reference numbers on the security form is best for me when its over and the chick is back home.

It's been overshadowed too by our realisation that three months from now, FirstBorn will be starting boarding school in UK, thousands of miles away. We knew it with part of our brains, but now the school is sending letters about nametapes and language choices, and suddenly it is imminent and feels far more precarious.  So its been a clingy week, with discussions covering a whole range of eventualities, and ending, inevitably, with another tearful hug.  Tearful for the mother that is.

It's the season of the long rains here, winter approaching. And the rains have been monsoon torrential this week, leading to trees down over main roads all over, gridlock and very long journeys.  Tom took three and a half hours home from work on Monday, a trip which takes 20 minutes at 630am. Some of his colleagues took five hours. And one poor man died in his car in the gridlock, and wasn't noticed till considerably later, as the hooting, opportunistic Nairobi traffic just diverted round his stationary car.

Last night, driving ten minutes to retrieve SecondBorn from the school bus, they were the worst driving conditions I've ever driven in.  The fourth day of torrential rain, rocks and rivers pouring down suburban streets, grateful for the high clearance of the car. And the bus arrived safely, and the rain stopped briefly, and we all huddled infront of a roaring log fire at home.

'And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.'
Lady Julian of Norwich, thirteenth century mystic

And what's this cwtching? To cwtch is a South Welsh term. You have to picture a cold, drizzly, damp scene. To cwtch is to snuggle up your baby under your wool shawl. To hug your child on a warm lap. It's got overtones of damp wool, and deep emotional warmth and comfort. Cwtch up.

This is part of a global blog hop, Six Word Saturday, describe today in six words.  To see the others in the series look here:  http://www.showmyface.com/

Six Word Saturday

'World-traveller Teasmaid trickles insubstantial thimbles.'

I've just had a birthday. At 46, with a new pair of reading glasses, I am definitely middle-aged. And what I wanted, given our early morning rising, was a middle-aged present, a Teasmaid. (For the non-UK reader: an automatic alarm clock which prepares a cup of tea for you and your partner at the bedside, and then wakes you up.)  I know we're in the digital age, but honestly, does an ipad produce a fresh cuppa at 530am?

It's a niche market even in UK. You can't buy them here. So a Teasmaid was sourced in UK, and lugged 5000 miles via Heathrow and various baggage carousels.  And the Birthday Girl has been patting the box for the last week, in anticipation of her birthday, and presentation of the much-awaited gift.

The birthday was yesterday. But this morning we had at most an inch of hot water in two cups. I've been huddled next to it for much of the day, speaking kindly, testing and retesting and trying to coax more from it. We've got to half a cup full each, so maybe it's just the system needs yet another flush through. Here's hoping.

And, defensively, to all those of you out there who are snorting at a Teasmaid present. We've just had a very cool 19 year old lad staying.  I told him in anticipation about my Teasmaid and explained the process. His eyes lit up.
'They really do that?' breathlessly.  'They've got their marketing wrong. I'm the one they should be targeting.' 
So Breville, think again, 19 year old clubbers and students should be your next target market, - lets make the Teasmaid as cool as the ipad.

This is part of Six Word Saturday - describe your life in six words. To see the rest of the bloghop, click here: http://www.showmyface.com/

Six Word Saturday

Sucked-in-stomach presentation, warthogs investigate.

I'd been asked to run a workshop session on Career Tactics in Uncertain Times. Hurrah.  To an interesting group of Kenyan development workers. Hurrah again.

It was their annual AwayDay, and they'd booked space in Nairobi National Park. Which is very large, say 30 miles square, and also has lions.
'Where exactly?' quavering voice.
But I did find the venue, in the very handy previously undiscovered club house, arriving, rather hot and bothered in the 30 degree heat at 9 am.

I arrived to discover I was billed, for the second time in my career, to star after the speaker on personal presentation and personal branding.  His admonishments rang in my ear for the first five minutes:
'Chin up, no leaning as you present, always look as fresh as you can in a tropical climate'. 
Red-faced flustered just-arrived presenter sucks in her stomach further.

I'd checked beforehand whether there would be projection facilities for powerpoint. 
'Oh no, don't bother with that, we usually do most of it in the field.'
And so it was. Huddled on the open air verandah for shade, exercises in the field under a tree.  And in the coffee break two warthogs scurried past, tails in the air like radio antenna, like tour guides in peak destination cities, making it easier for the one behind to follow the one ahead.  Beautiful just.

This is part of a global blog-hop, Six Word Saturday. Describe your life in six words.  To see the others in the series, go here. http://www.showmyface.com/

Six Word Saturday

I'm back to Six Word Saturday after a long chaotic period.  Six Word Saturday does what it says on the tin, - six words to conjure up where you are at present.

Post-bootcamp calm: pyjamas at noon

FirstBorn's exams for possible entry to her UK school are over. It's been a time of turmoil. From sourcing the past papers in UK at Christmas, discovering that the standard is far higher than we - or her Kenyan school - had anticipated - or were teaching at. Sourcing DVDs on the Normans on ebay, initiating meaningful discussions on her opinions on the International Criminal Court over breakfast, cajoling the highly competent maths tutor to pleeeaase add her to his roster.

Then the UK school didn't believe the difficulties in getting the papers to Kenya. So on Day One of the intended exams, Firstborn poised with sharpened pencil at 8am to start, the papers hadn't yet left UK.  Sent via DHL they eventually arrived eight days late. One of those differences between Kenya and UK, - in Kenya you learn, just because someone official SAYS it's next day delivery, you don't necessarily believe it.

And high summer in Kenya, bleak February in UK, its also the migratory season of visitors from Europe and beyond. In the last month we've had family from UK, friends from Australia, more friends coming next week, then more family.   But today it's just us. We can lounge in our pyjamas, visit the DVD shop and seek out episodes 4 and beyond of Homeland, maybe even strike up an addiction to Downton Abbey. The possibilities are endless. Pass the chocolates would you.

This was part of Six Word Saturday, an international blog hop. To see the entries from others, look here: http://www.showmyface.com/

Six Word Saturday

Clearly I'm longer winded than others doing this Six Word Saturday lark. (Sum up your life today in six words.)

'And another thing' I want to say. And shall, because its fun.

So first,
Homework stalks the family. Fireworks tonight.

As the children get older the demands of homework are taking over the weekend. But its Guy Fawkes tonight, and despite the firework ban in Kenya with the security alert we're going round to friends for a barbecue and sparklers.

Or

Sunburned soggy daughter returns. Own-bed gratitude.

FirstBorn has been on a school Science & Geography field trip in the Rift Valley. But its the short rains, which means days getting hotter and hotter and then torrential rains. They were camping. Two tents flooded.  Bedding sodden. Ended up with five of them in a four man tent.

Or
Mulish musician enthusiastic rock cellist. Langata ;{

SecondBorn is a mulish musician.  But his new cello teacher has just demonstrated rock cello to him, and all of a sudden he's a tad more enthusiastic. But cello lessons are in Langata, hours away, and probably the subject of another post soon.

Or
7111 words to paper. Nearly-novelist grins.

I'm really enjoying NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, and making far more progress than I ever have in four days writing before.

Do take a look at what others have posted here:  http://www.showmyface.com/