Sometimes, when I close my eyes and envision myself driving a car, a door is opened up within the depths of my soul and a smidgen of strength in my reservoir of ‘things to fight for’ is released. I’m just putting this out there, but I deserve to own a car. A big, pretty, shiny, expensive one. With a sun roof, thank you very much!
Lord, is it too much to ask for a range rover? Or a G wagon? I want to take a long drive to the beach, lay on the sand and listen to the waves. Ugh! In this economy I’d probably be better off asking for a pencil to write down my dreams with. I think I can afford that. How much do those type of cars cost anyway? An arm, a leg and a kidney, you say! Plus two middle fingers thrown in? Well, at least dreaming is free.
My delusions cost 0.00 centavos!
Shrek happens to be one of my favorite animations of all time. No kidding, I’ll be 90 years old, toothless and senile, shouting “slay the dragon, rescue the princess” around the nursing home. My entire childhood, I tell you! Oh, Shrek, the ogre that you are! A walking green flag. Literally!
Its such a beautiful romcom. Isn’t it just oh, so romantic that he was willing –okay forced– to slay the dragon for Fiona? Hey, if he is not willing to face mortal peril and fire breathing dragons for you, then does he really love you? I’m not talking to you Stacy. We both know your boyfriend wouldn’t spit on you, if you were on fire.
Listen, if you switch off your cognitive dissonance for a few, and ignore the fact that the parents left their unconscious daughter, in a dilapidated castle of doom in the middle of nowhere, guarded by a dragon with possible anger management issues, you’ll be swooning form start to finish. I’m sorry, was the spare bedroom occupied. Or the freaking attic if the vibe they were going for was rustic chic!
Also, donkey and the dragon. What the hell was that! How does… Okay, can someone with a PhD in animal husbandry, a degree in animal crossing, a minor in religious studies and an obsession for crackers, explain in detail how those babies came to be. Was it a potion? For my sanity I choose to believe that it was that. Nothing else makes sense. Not that I’ve given it a dime of thought, in case you were wondering.
Uhm…
You know what else doesn’t make sense to me? Jonah. You know him? The guy from the bible? If my husband came home after a prolonged absence, no calls or messages, looked me straight in the eye and said, “love, I got swallowed by a whale” I…. Sir, of all things! And was he awake in there, just ,vibing with the whales innards. Reciting verses. His muscles must have been stiff as hell. I’m guessing he had to pee, right? So….
Lord!
I’m at the part of my story, where I can’t figure out whether God is trying to give me content for my best seller, or the devil is trying to take me out. As the woman of faith I try to be, I choose to believe its the former. Listen, he exists beyond the comprehension of our human minds for a reason. I mean, look at Jonah. Who would have thought! Can that happen to me too? Since I can’t afford a car, travel by whale seems the next plausible thing for an overachiever. Obviously!
Besides, with these suitcase sized bags I’m lugging under my eyes, airport security would definitely confuse me for a potential contraband smuggler. I am a flight risk people.
Question; Do you believe in God? Or a higher power? Also, do you read the bible? The stories in there are so wild. From Eve causing the fall of man (or was it the snake for its treachery. Or her husband for not standing on business. There’s a lot of blame to go around), to Abraham almost ending his only son, the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, lot and his daughters and then you get to revelation and its … Yeah!
Sometimes, I wonder about Mary, the mother of Jesus. She was just a girl like me. A young one. I wonder Just how psychologically taxing the experience was for her. Imagine going about your day, minding your business, then suddenly an Angel appears and informs you that, virgin that you are, are about to not only be pregnant, but pregnant with the savior of man kind. She is better than me, I would have passed out. Or ran away screaming. Or both.
Can you imagine how stressed she was, having to explain to Joseph that she was in fact, pregnant through the power of the holy ghost. The fear of being with child outside of wedlock during such a time period… And mans was not having it. Unaruka aje mimba ya yesu, lakini? How would she have even commenced explaining that the only wood she knows is the one at her boyfriends shop!
Mary was a true woman of faith y’all!
I find the fact that Jesus experienced life like us so profound. He did Normal things like you and I. He bathed. He cooked. He walked to places. He loved. He cried. He hurt. He lived. And he was a pretty cool dude!
I just know he gave the best hugs.
I attended an all girls, Catholic, boarding high school. This is me releasing that trauma. We had to attend compulsory mass every Thursday evening, regardless of what denomination you subscribed to. Not even the Muslims were spared. I’m not a catholic so I didn’t really get it. There we just to many rituals for me to keep up. Not to mention, our patron would lead mass with a cane. He literally used to beat people up for the littlest of things. Whispering? Caned. Moving too slow? Caned. Dozing?caned..
Imagine coming from a double chemistry lesson, with the sun frying up your two remaining braincells, only to sit through mass for the next hour, yet the only thing you can think of, is the rice and meat stew that will be served for supper. Let me tell you, we endured. And its not like the food was any great. God no. Our chefs would have sent Gordon Ramsey into an early grave with their cooking skills but to us, Rice and stew was an elixir. It was a five star hotel delicacy. The main course. It didn’t matter that the rice would be chewy and harder than my ability to get a passing grade. Or that the meat stew in question would probably be a salted, watery broth, one barely visible piece of meat and a load of weevils to tie everything together.
The morning porridge was the worst. Still, you should have seen me going back for seconds. I needed that translucent, tasteless hot water to power up my brain and grant me strength for the rest of the day. To this day, I blame all the excess weight that has refused to dislodge from my waist, on those second trips. If only I’d refrained from a second cup of uji, I’d be a crop top warrior right now. The devil Is a liar!
We used to wake up at four, take the coldest shower known to man, and be in class by 4:30. In the freaking morning! Ah, jesus! And if the bell for class rang and you weren’t out of the dorm by then or you overslept, the prefects would lock us in and the matron would come to beat us up. At 4.30 in the morning! Have you ever been caned that Early? Its demonic, I tell you. Mornings were chaotic as fuck. It was common to see a girl jumping from a window, covered in nothing but a leso and soap, holding on to her uniform and hightailing it to class. Did I mention that we suffered?
I spend most of my time in preps (morning and evening) trying to stay awake. What was the point. And why were our teachers so messy? Hiding in dark places and sneaking up on us like thieves to catch the unsuspecting napper red handed. We once got punished to sleep on the field the entire day. It was fun.
Our teachers were… Special. The principal was a classy babes alright. She used to show up to parades in expensive little skirts, hair long, straightened and blowing into the wind and high heels clacking. She looked more suited for hostile take overs than overseeing angsty teenage girls. The language teachers were the gossipers. Woe unto you if they all new you by name. We had a teacher who would throw rocks at us when he was on duty. He had suffered a strock and so he couldn’t run, but his aim was true. You’d be lazing about and suddenly a wheezing sound would permeate the air, and a mild concussion would follow.
Think David with the sling.
Oh, and our games teacher used to ran after us in heels. Have you ever seen an angry, middle aged woman in her signature “mess with me, I fuck you up” heels, running? Its terrifying.
So yeah…
I don’t know how we went from shrek to whatever this is but… I want to finish by saying this; We experience God everyday. In the people we meet. In nature. In ourselves. In songs… He is everywhere. So..
Faith.
DIARY OF A VILLAGE GIRL 