Dance in the rain, read books, and drink coffee - lots of coffee!

The sky is melting. It's violently peeling itself like a scorned woman desperately scrubbing off the memories of the men that used her. Or a lady hiding behind a broken smile gathering up what's left of her broken heart, like the shavings of her sternum, that she will use to painfully remove the traces of a past lover from her mouth - desperate for healing to wash over her. The raindrops are bigger today and the leaking has been going on for 5 hours and counting. Somebody up there has to get a plumber to check their pipes if anyone manages get up from their bums and do something. Or maybe, just maybe the angels are having their annual water fight in the scorching sun that they rented for the day. Meanwhile, those of us below going about our normal lives wear grave faces, gloomier than the grayish clouds that hang above us like a bad dream, and occasionally paint on a quick smile when a friend extends pleasantries. That's the thing about weather these days. It keeps on changing without as much as an effort.

And like this blimey weather, such is life. Nothing is predictable. We roam this earth blind with faith as our feet and hope as our eyes. Reminds me of driving at night with headlights to show you where you are and the next couple of metres ahead of you, just enough to keep you moving in the right direction and nothing more. As parents, i guess there's the added task to course your children through life or at least show them the right path. My mother's way was through books. She has a home library full of just about any inspirational or motivational book that was ever written. The Monk that sold his Ferrarri (the whole series), anything by Steve Covey, Marcus Buckingham's 'Now discover your strengths' and all the get-up writers cum speakers of today.

So i guess it only made sense that she helped to steer our lives (my brother and I) by buying us books. When I was about 14, she, a lover of literature with an insatiable drive for learning, gifted me with 'Who Moved My Cheese'. It's a tiny book. An easy read especially for those who can complete a John Grisham novel (or those paperback romance novels with over a thousand pages that I can't stand) in a day or a matter for hours. For the sentimental reader that enjoys pouring out the words of a good book like a cup of hot chocolate and sipping them slowly, it may take you about 3 days.


The book was my mother's way of helping to ease me into my teenage years. I remember a day after she left it on my bed as we were having dinner, she asked, "So have you started reading it?" I gave her a puzzling look, the ones teenagers love to throw at their parents with 'mind your business' written all over it and said, "Just started. Haven't gone that far yet," before stuffing my face with string beans (mishiri i think is what they call it. Dreadful stuff, but healthy). But the joke was on me. You see, the book was a sort of preparation for what was to come in a few months. We were going to leave the vibrant Buruburu estate for sunny side Kilimani. I didn't see it coming, oh, but she did. And if you must know, the book didn't help.

I eventually finished it a few moths later in my room on the first floor apartment I had learnt to call home. It was an okay read. Nothing that makes you jump out of your seat shouting, "I CAN DO IT!" If you ask me, that's the mark of a good book. It reminds you that you can do or become anything you want (true) even for just a while. In all honesty, the only thing i gained from it was that change is inevitable. And slowly, the memories I had of Buruburu faded like a broken sunset casting its hues on the sky.

As soon as i turned 16 not so long after a birthday party and a reunion with friends, i retired back to bed only to find another book. This one was, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey. I remember wanting to storm into her room and ask her if she really thought i was that screwed up to be buying me a self help book. I was furious. In fact, I was so mad that i didn't read it for a year. Teenagers! Hehe! But as soon as i did, I couldn't stop. I took it to the dinning hall with me, read it before preps and it was the first book i took to bed with me. It was that special and it changed my life!

It's the one book that opened up my eyes so wide and taught me how to look at life with a fresh pair of eyes. It taught me about synergy, how i shouldn't give up and how I should keep hope alive even in the darkest of situations. Funny thing happened during my KCSE English paper 1 exam! The essay, was essentially about what i had been learning from the book. I smiled at the irony of it all and wrote the damned answers with a smile. And yes. I got an A :) That book set the pace to open up my mind and to broaden its context for deeper writers such as Rhonda Byrne's The Secret and Robert Kayosaki Rich Dad, Poor Dad series. It helped me grow an old head and wisdom beyond my years. So when life decided to throw me into the deep essentially so that I can practice what it is i had learnt, I was ready. Readier than i could have been had i not learnt much from the books. As for my mum and I, we love to sit down and catch up on lessons we've learnt from the books we've read, a sort of family book club. And i thank her for it every chance i get.

That's the thing about change. We fight it at first before we realize that it is beyond us and a part of our journey. Personally, i'm still at a loss with what to do about the morning rain. I should just dare myself to go out in the rain barefooted with nothing but a tank top and jeans and dance myself silly. Maybe even get a friend to take pictures of me while i'm at it so that i can stick them on my mirror with a note in the bottom that reads 'If you can't change what's happening, learn to make the best of it.'

PS: Click here for more information on my mum's book, The Lost Laws of Success. If you want details on how and where to purchase it at KSH 500/= in person and KSH 600/= at a bookshop, email me at
single.unsingle@gmail.com

Kisses my darlings,
Single Unsingle