NOT YET

The moon is dancing

I'm just wandering in the park. It's night and I'm not oblivious of time. What is time anyway to a hurting girl who has nothing else in her mind rather than thinking of pain anguish and agony inflicted in her innocent soul.
My steps takes me forward and return me back to the same spot. A place where it all started. Seriously life. How did I end up like this. Lonely with no friend to give me a shoulder to cry on. Not that I need one anyway. My pride is bigger than Pacific ocean and taller than mount Everest.

I look up in the sky. I'm wooed by the sight and for a moment I forget my sorrows. The night blue sky is beautiful. Decorated by a million stars that twinkle as they illuminate the dull world that would have been consumed by total darkness. The moon is at the middle. Crescent moon that looks like the missing part has been bit and swallowed off by a section of dark clouds that are forming nearby. The Moon moves and moves and it's fully consumed by the clouds. It become a little bit darker but the sky is still beautiful with those stars that seem to be glued up there to be decoration to a rather plain blue sky. The moon reappears again and its light illuminates my environment making me want to hum. My ears are entertained by the sound of crickets hiding in the grass where they feel at home. What a soothing feeling in my heart. I feel relaxed. The trees swirl from right to left front to back. The cold cools my once burning heart. I breath the air, slowly, in and finally out. I feel more relaxed and more at ease.
Still staring at the sky. A feeling of possessiveness engulfs me.
Yes fiona. You own the world right now. It's all yours to enjoy. An inside voice tells me. I start feeling strong again whole again. At that moment I see a shooting star. So I close my eyes and a wish. Was it really a wish? Probably a prayer. I open my eyes and notice the moon has disappeared again. I shiver. Doesn't matter though. I'm lost in my own world that I own at the moment.

I notice a star. The biggest and brightest of them all. It's twinkle is captivating. So I think it's creating a rhythm. The others twinkle maybe joining the alpha star in the routine. I notice some are in groups others alone and others form beautiful patterns I was thinking an artist was sent there to arrange them. Woow. I Marvell at the beauty of nature. I see something creeping out from the clouds. It's my moon again. Now i think. The stars create rhythm while the crickets sing and the moon is dancing. A dance that forces it to hide behind the props, which is the clouds, and appear again on the other side brighter and happier to entertain me, who was brought here out in the field by my own sorrows.
The moonlight. It's magical. It works magic that can make you even fall in love with yourself. My legs starts to ache. How long have I been standing there enjoying the wonders of the sky? Don't know don't care. My mind answers that.
I feel the urge to smoke. I reach my pocket for a cigarette and lighter. Lucky me I still got one cigarette left. With that I move to a bench nearby. The metal thing is soo cold but again I don't Care. I rub my now freezing hands and light my cigarette. One two three four puffs and my mind drifts away to my childhood.

The new girl in the village. Brought back to Kenya to live with my grandparents, my mother's side. My mum was African. Yes. Was. She died when I was five years old. I'm African American by the way.
Well, mother was specifically Kenyan from the central part of Kenya. The mt. Kenya region as it is commonly known. The tribe of Kikuyu. Naomi, my mother, studied in Starehe girls' centre where she was sponsored because of her good performance in primary level. The good grades earned her a place in the national school. My grandfather was not ready to take her to these big schools in Kenya because he was stingy and a miser. He always discouraged Naomi when she came home with good grades. He wanted her to study in the day schools where she could come home in the evening and help with house chores as always and in the weekend help with tilling the shamba, garden. Mr. Ndegwa, my grandfather, was a primary school headmaster. That meant he was learned and rich and above all respected in the community. In Kenya in those days 19s teachers were considered as second god. So being Head teacher meant more respect.
The irony of life is Mr. Bull, the name he fondly introduced himself when he's not in school and which is English word for Mr. Ndegwa; did not value her daughters Education all because his five sisters who were elder than him and his two brothers, did not make past standard seven in those days, which is termed as grade seven today. They either dropped out of school due to early pregnancy, another one eloped with a man, others didn't continue because they got married after grade seven. So Mr. Bull said no girl benefits from education. And those who make it far, which of course were very few, ended up being married and they could not benefit their families where they came from. He almost forgot he was one of the beneficiary because he married a nurse and a very qualified one.
Yes, my grandmother Bilha, of which she is known as Bilia, according to Kikuyu accent is a retired nurse. She was known those days because of her magic to heal because she had good knowledge of modern medicine and also she was an expert in traditional herbs. When the hospital lacked medicines she prescribed traditional herbs according to the type of the disease. She was also a midwife. She had learnt all these when she was young. Her mother was a traditional doctor and Bilha had taken interest in medicine at a very young age. For a girl in those days, she was an expert in helping goats and sheep give birth which served as practical field to midwifery. She waited until she was a woman to practice it on humans. Saying a woman I mean pass through F.G.M, the cut. It was traditional cultural activity where for a girl to get married you had to pass through the cut. It also marked transition from childhood to adulthood.