Uncoated.

Listenin to Dolly’s coat of many colours has reminded be of a coat. Well this coat was not a coat of many colours but it’s a coat worth mentioning. So this coat was of singular colour and by the way is khaki a colour or a fabric? I’ll go with the former.
So I’m wearing this my coat which is a hand me down and feeling good as I chill listening to the crackling of the fire and the boiling of the monocots and the dicots mixture playing hard that some chicken somewhere will have mercy on me like Jesus son of David and lay me an egg that I can put to boil with the Gītheri.
I’m feeling like laying me a sack on the earthen floor and doing me some yoga before the chicken miracle takes place but my thoughts are cut off by my nephew who is now talking while panting like a dog from a hunting spree. Turns out the lad has been sent with special instructions to me to get a certain envelope from my old man’s room. Who is my dad? My dad is a man who certainly has the urge to count his money while grazing his cattle and sheep and who I’m I? I’m the all obedient daughter who is overeager to hand over the envelope and go back to my chicken business. So I proceed in a high gait towards said room and pick the envelope I find there and hand it over. No sooner have I handed it to him than he is at the gate running faster than he even came. I take my sack and begin my meditation but before then I hear the chicken’s answer to my prayer. I walk to the cage and collect the egg dipping it inside the Gītheri before it even cools.
Bending over to put the firewood together, I hear his signature throat clearing followed by my name and I answer as all good girls do, ‘yūūūūū!’ I then turn to see a face that is not happy at all and I’m asked to categorically state what my nephew asked of me while being asked to follow him to the scene of crime. I’m admonished for not handing over the correct envelope and my eyes start to get watery. My dad like most men can’t stomach tears and he starts advancing towards me and I realise I’m about to be shown, ‘the bird of Ng’ethe’ or ‘cha mtema kuni’ How I turn that fast and start running ‘of stick’ for dear life, don’t ask me, ask my sister adrenaline who doesn’t disappoint in this case. When my old man attempts to run after me and tries to get a hold of me, I leave my coat of single colour in his hands. Thank God it was not zipped. He throws it at me and tells me not to come back home. I only rest while I’m safely hidden amongst the coffee bushes while wondering what has happened to my egg. I guess I could call my coat a coat of a single colour that my papa threw at me. 🤣🤣
#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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