Yesterday (21st September) I got an email from Mr Mutua whom, you will recall from earlier posts here, is a friend of mine in Kenya who is doing remarkable work improving his lot and that of the community in which he lives. Here is the operative paragraph (bold and some additional words are mine):
We were privileged to buy an old-looking but an operating car from auctioneers and there is a balance of Kshs. 7000 which we cant raise within the period of time of 2 weeks [before 5 October, I think] they have given us to pay. We are stranded for we don’t know what to do; if the time expires they will resell and get 20% out of our money. U know I am a man who likes to die for an idea that will live [rather] than to live for an idea that will die. So I am requesting u to come in were you can becoz we are in [a] jam, and also [to] speak you heart on matters like this one in our hands: what we are supposed to be doing. [And to] assist if possible.
Seven thousand Kenyan shillings is about 52 Pounds (74 Euros or 105 US Dollars). For a number of reasons I’m not currently willing to assist by simply sending money. But it occurs to me that someone else might welcome this opportunity to make a financial contribution that may make a palpable positive difference to Kenbric Vocational Training Centre, its Director: Mr Mutua, and the community of Nguluni.
This week I returned to London and moved in with Nic. In typical style, I undertook this important milestone in our lives together… on my own. I returned from France while she was on vacation and moved in and unpacked while she was away. Yes, she was expecting it. In fact we’re both very happy about it. I said to her this morning:
“I want to celebrate this!”
We’ve not had a wedding of our own, but here we are as seen at Sue and Paul’s earlier this year. I’ve been very concerned about arriving in London without having lined up a job. So concerned, in fact, that I feel I have missed the opportunity to enjoy the excitement of moving in with my partner. It really is wonderful and I am excited and joyous to be at this point on my life’s journey: the point at which it intersects with hers. The future of these journeys is, of course, not foreseeable beyond the next bend; but it sure feels good to be travelling together now.
When it’s quiet, down from the plastic trees fly small birds. Sparrows; to clean up les morceaux du croissant under the tables. Their legs splay as their feet slip on the ceramic tiles.
Something orange! A crushed Tic-Tac, it’s dust too fine to peck, the broken pieces too large to swallow. They hold them in their beaks and transfer them from side to side, unable to suck, unable to chew.
One is skating. He’s fluttering: half-flying, half-running; and skidding. Giving only half his attention to his duties to keep the station clean. I think he’s the guy who ate all the medium-sized Tic-Tac pieces.