Monday, 25 January 2016

Tashreef chronicles 3

(I had had the opportunity to visit India for a year in 2017 to conduct business pertinent to oil machinery. I had imagined that the prices there would be fair compared to anywhere else in the world and I was right.Additionally, Kenya had just made its ties with India stronger in various ways and one of them was reducing the duty fee charged of any item imported from India.  It was while there that I made a good number of friends and got to learn some bit of the language). Tashreef, as I had learned is an Urdu word that means 'Honorable'. My boy was definitely honorable, the son of king and his queen. lovely......... just lovely.

The tremors of my phone ringing in my pocket are now becoming unbearable. I have the perfect ringtone, but now its beginning to sound irritable. "This is a moment am having. A good one, why wont they let me have it?" I curse with the presumption that the calls all relate to work. Nonetheless, I dig out the phone from my pocket and pick up for the current caller. Its mum. She sounds utterly joyful as she congratulates me. "Hahahaha, ni kazi ya wawili mum, asante lakini.'(Its the work of two mum, thanks though). My imagination before today was that i would feel heavy in my heart once the child came into our lives and perhaps cut off everything else for him/her. However, now that I am holding him in my arms everything is a bit clearer. I can see being available at home enough hours to be with him. My heart is not heavy because i can only picture the pride that will come from teaching him how to dance and play soccer, or simply watching him learn how to fight(in an actual fight). "Am on my way there son, don't let the little one fall asleep without saying hi to Grannie." Mother says as she hangs up.
 All the while, Marble is in what seems like a 'stupor'. she must be making plans in her mind of how we are going to work on conceiving the next one.... or probably not- not so soon after this experience. ........
©  2016

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