Trying to pull a Whoopie Goldberg look in the jungle is not easy. A Boomerang might pass by and decide to say hey, or you might sit on a skin shedding python thinking it’s a log. And talking of skins, they make shoes from them, don’t they? Which reminds me of the Moccasin shoe and how it found it’s way back in the runway, but that how fashion is; it always follows a cyclical path. Who would have thought that the platforms would come back in form of wedges and all. Same goes to bell bottoms resurfacing as hipsters. I guess this only confirms that life is a circle and that the earth is round.
Away from all things geography and glaciation. Writing has always helped me in expressing myself. Most often than not when I speak misunderstood. That is why while in High school I got tired of living with the flood in my shoe house, I decided to pick my biological weapons and surprise my old man like in guerilla warfare. These weapons consisted of a pen and a paper, an envelope and stamps. The letter went something like this.

Dear Father,
First and foremost is to thank the Almighty God for giving me an apportunity to write this missive, Secondly is to tell you that I am doing well in my studies and I emerged number one in our class in the midterm exams.
Thirdly is to tell you that my shoes are giving me a thousand problems. They are torn and are staring at me like they are laughing. When its dry, soil is collecting inside and my socks have transformed from white to 50 shades of brown. That isn’t all father dearest, when it rains I feel like my legs are in Noah’s ark congested with all the animals except the ark isn’t dry. It’s hot and humid. My toes are about to drop down from frost bite.
I’m kindly urging you by the mercies of God to buy me a new pair of shoes.
Yours truly,
Gakware, Dota.

It seems like this letter softened the old man and when I went home for the holidays a week before schools reopened, my old man visited Kīricū dairymen’s Cooperative society for his monthly milk payout. Upon arrival he called me and instructed me to visit a certain cobbler at Kīricu market who he’d already given instructions to make me a new pair of shoes. I visited the cobbler’s shop and was given a seat. I was instructed to place my leg on a piece of paper. Funny how what starts with paper ends with paper, remember the letter? So I placed my foot on the paper and the cobbler drew the layout of my skinny foot. One week later, I was the proud owner of a moccasin shoe. I guess you could say, I wrote the songs that broke her heart 😂😂 sorry you could say I felt like a mheshimiwa.


Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

%d bloggers like this: