Dear Diary,
May is unfolding in a foggy morning outside. Laundry is smiling at me from one corner of my bedroom and I am being held hostage by my warm beddings. The smile on my face is rare nowadays but I am glad it found it's home this Sunday. My feet still have beef with me from yesterday over a walk that came before a family lunch with the brood.
It has been months.
Corona. My bruised wallet.
My dysfunctional mode.
The sun was out after days of heavy rainfall and the need to leave the house overwhelmed me in the morning and by eleven, we were out the door. It was almost three when we sat down for some glorified junk food and everyone was happy... including me.
Aside from soaking in the much needed sun, taking in serene environments that came with so much fresh air; I went all out on oozing good vibes for the day. Memories are better if they are happy ones and yesterday's feel like so.
In between the unexpected bursts of laughter thanks to my brood's bag of bad sibling rivalry jokes and the occasional complaints from the last two though, I wondered into the how fast dust reclaims our roads. I bet the mismatched potholes linking most of them have a clue as to what I am driving at.
The middle class struggles' version of our country. The high cost of living brought about by the current tyrant grappling for the house at the hill. The looming unstability contributing to the foreseeable political and tribalistic clashes in the upcoming elections. The broken system that makes every public service a nightmare. From the education system making home schooling a nightmare where I am currently living as it is reserved for a certain class to health care to public transportation.
Corruption has stained everything and bribes are how we run this whole goddamn country!
But then again the how the common man is fighting to regain control of his sovereign rights would flood in and hope for their future would/has slowly been getting reignited. My brood is a part of the incoming generation of unfiltered thoughts and they're forcefully trying to change our truth.
I admire them in silence.
The courage it requires to defy a political deity or question a ruling president, a church leader or the human gods that determine the lives of common men is profound. I was brought up by a generation that worshipped their tribes and never questioned their leaders about anything. They believed that the man above makes no mistakes in choosing the ass that sat on any form of throne and the head it carried. Most of my people were hardworking shallowly educated souls high on new democracy and saw no reason in doubting the power of a ballot box.
The greedy that had encountered a few more books and went to bed with the colonisers were and are still the ones who have aided in dismantling the efforts of those who were and still are patriots of this nation which would led to the decolonization of my entire people. Sigh.
Later on as we headed home, we passed by our local library and picked up a few things for our creative and journaling sides. I am not journaling traditionally currently but my brood is and as they indulged in fancy notebooks I settled for something that will be keeping my doodling company in my pursuit of having conversations with my inner child; a colouring book :)
I feel at peace while doodling though everything I am create is dark and personal and triggering. I thought that a colouring book will help me experiment with colours and be the day that I can transition to after letting a bit of the darkness out through doodling.
Laundry is calling, see you later :(
wambuku w.