I first introduced myself in this blog seven years ago and a lot has changed since then. At the time I was in the twilight of my thirties and now the golden jubilee is closing in on me already. Our daughters, chatty young girls then, are now teenagers whose vocabulary has somehow shrunk to; good, fine and nothing. Unless of course, they are making a case for new
toys gadgets! I have since moved north to Ethiopia from Tanzania the southern neighbour of my home country.
I can’t remember a time in my life when I did not enjoy writing or when I did not savour the power of words. I however never imagined sharing my words with others, although I did enjoy the long-gone snail mail era of writing letters and compositions (essays) for our English lessons. It was reading Brene Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection, that challenged me to start blogging. She talks of letting go of who you think you are supposed to be and embracing who you are. As someone who had lived for decades under the tyranny of what people think and perfectionism, the act of sharing my writing was a choice to grow by daring to be vulnerable.
I previously lived by the proverb ‘even a fool is thought wise if they keep silent’. With this ‘opening of my mouth’, my readers now know, once and for all, whether I am a fool or not. But it really doesn’t matter, does it? If I am a fool, I remain one whether you know it or not. Even more importantly – be that as it may – I am worthy of love and belonging. Writing ventilates the shame and fear of being thought foolish and hopefully, with time, I will find it easier and easier to laugh at myself as I acknowledge that I don’t know it all. The articles here are, using the words of William Faulkner, footprints not monuments. “A monument only says, ‘At least I got this far’ while a footprint says, ‘This is where I was when I moved again.’“
When I started blogging, I was well and truly entrenched in a financial management career and would have hardly imagined what has now happened. In the last four years, I have hardly looked at a spreadsheet, but rather have spent my time pecking away at my trusty laptop. Creeping upon me like the camel who nudged himself into the tent, one body part at a time, displacing the Arab, my new identity as a writer and editor has slowly but surely displaced the accountant identity, I wore proudly and comfortably for more than two decades.
The feeling I experience when I share my writing is akin to the one I get at the dinner table after spending an afternoon stirring away in my kitchen. After adding this spice here and that herb there, baking one food item, grilling or steaming the other, it’s finally time to lay it on the table. The uummhh … yummy, the finger-licking and coming back for a second serving … it’s simply joy. The delight is worth the sweating over the stove and scrubbing of pots and plates that follows after. A meal that is appreciated and enjoyed is a reward all by itself.
Welcome to this table – My Little Stories – where I serve up words in different forms – chopped, fried, baked, mashed, mixed, matched … as they tickle my fancy. It delights me if I manage to entertain you and send you into laughter. If you split your nose or crack a rib in the process – what does it matter? I also hope to tug at your heart and echo, no matter how faintly, the story of all stories … The story that tells us how we came to be, what we are here for and what we can anticipate for the future. Bon Appétit!
Seven years ago this is what I had to say about myself
My name is Wairimu, a Kenyan, making my home in Arusha City in the country next door to my motherland, Tanzania ,at the heart of Africa.
I am married to Peter who is one of the unmistakable ways that God says “I love you” to me very loudly. Together we have two daughters; the exuberant enthusiastic one who believes life is the stage awaiting her production and the quieter charmer whose cheekiness will catch you off guard every time. Many times Peter’s and my eyes meet over their heads and we simultaneously shake our heads and think, ‘no one prepared us for this’.
I am a believer and a follower of Jesus. In this season I have wondered which of these metaphors describes my relationship with Him; ‘Peter-gone-back-fishing’, let me stick with what I know best or Jonah the prophet with a chequered career. Possibly both.
I studied accounting at the University since I was the nerdy type and was expected to choose a suitably challenging career. This profession has stood me in good stead over the years but it’s only in the last couple of years that I have discovered I learnt more than accounting and started contributing to my organization in other areas, thank goodness!
An introverted voracious reader, my idea of total bliss is curling on the couch with a good book, a warm comforter and some masala tea. I wonder whether any other invention can top the kindle, Amazon Whispernet and off course the credit card which has made my quest for ‘just the right book ‘that much easier.
A compulsive journal keeper I have covertly over the years written articles which I expected to share once they were polished just so, and deemed good enough. My written musings center on faith and following Jesus from the vantage point of a woman in her thirties (only barely), who seeks to live missionally away from her passport country, holding a full time conventional job , a wife and a mother.
Since that day of perfection seems not to dawn, I now take this particular bull by the horns and declare as my daughters do, when they play hide and seek, “ready or not, here I come!