Roasted

Coincidentally the cold season comes with plenty a corn in the fields. So to chase the cold away and keep off cold inspired ailments you not only have to warm your body with fire but also with roasted maize the best remedy to keep the cold at bay. After all in Forthall they say, ‘mūndū nī mūndū nī kūhūna’ and also, ‘ūrugarī uumaga na nda.’ This has proven quite true because no sooner than the stomach starts churning the assortment than the heat starts removing in leaps and bounds. It’s like the hypothalamus and the pituitary gland synchronize and sense the changes at the speed of lightning in a hurry.
Now one major shortcoming was that mama would plant the 5:11 brand that matured faster but was smaller in size when compared to the 6:24 which took 6 months and was much bigger and tastier. This is where temptations came from. You go to your farm and the corn is all small while the neighbors corn is wickedly teasing you like a teenage boy winking at his lovestruck crush. Small small your salivary glands betray you and you are now salivating like those Pavlov’s dogs.
All the good Sunday school teachings from Sister Shiz are thrown outta the window as I tiptoe towards the fence after checking around and finding the course clear, you know they say, ‘mūcemi akorire mukuungi,’ the tiptoer found the bender. After the short walk which seems long I lift my neck towards the finger euphorbia fence like a giraffe browsing on an acacia tree taking care it’s sap doesn’t enter my eyes. Otherwise I’ll be screaming until my echoes are heard at the ngurunga cia Karība caves. All along I’ve made sure to walk along the short nappier grass so my footsteps don’t rat me if my spy of a mother comes investigating. I identify the most scrumptious and longest corn and the good thing is that this brand produces in doubles. I don’t want to remove the corn and leave the stalk there. Last time I did that the neighbor paid us a courtesy call. This time I summon all the strength in my being and uproot the whole stem. Soon enough I’m having these beauties on the fire and our cow Ngahū has become my partner in crime. I gave her the stalk and now all the evidence is gone, or so I thought, until I hear my mother’s all to familiar footsteps. I just might get roasted with the corn. 😭😭
#StillTheChronicler.

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.

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