01/20/2023
A follower recently asked me to share a sample of my writing, which is something I rarely do, but I decided it was not such a bad idea. So here it is, a piece written recently.
"Secret spaces. I remember as a child the secret spaces I had. I grew up on a farm in Africa (I know it sounds like a movie, so not). Well, not exactly a farm, an acreage would be a more appropriate description. But even as I say that, it is utterly inaccurate. Which farm or acreage or plot of land or cityscape was it? Because, truth is, we moved at least once ever year, often more. But the true thing is we mostly lived in the country. The countryside of the various places we lived in. Mostly surrounding Nairobi, only once (my favourite time), in Kericho.
Kericho is tea growing country in Kenya. Green and fresh always. A one lane town in the brief time I spent there, yet that time holds such intense memories. First night in a new and strange house. Feed the kids. So mum bought some sausages and eggs, figured out how to use the wood fired stove, and fed us. And we all awoke to our undone house with horrendous headaches and stomach aches, only one bathroom and seven people with food poisoning. No idea how we managed that first day. But we did.
Later, there is a farm next door and they deliver milk to us every morning, in large steel urns, and I learn first hand the saying about how cream rises to the top.
The stove is large and has many plates and burners, but it literally is a wood fired stove, so nothing gets cooked unless you figure that out. Firebug me loved this. Challenging as it was to cook on. But someone managed. Mum I guess.
That house has a sunken living room. We had very little money. It was the early 70’s. My mum used to sew. She made giant shaped pillows of many sizes, hessian. Rough fibres, woody colours, oranges, greens, reds, and browns. We sprawled on those cushions, listened to the Soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar, with sliding doors opening to a large green forest wide open, a little worried that the naughty vervet monkeys who populated the trees just feet away might come to visit. And the storm, the immense and powerful thunder and lightening. Warm tropical rain. Us, safe, happy, with music and friends and family.
Walks down memory lane. This is not at all the story I meant to tell. This is not a secret space. I guess the secret space story wanted to remain secret. Will revisit another time.
You just have to take the moments as they come."
Regan d'Andrade
