So one of the gushy experiences I had during the Nairobi Book Fair was having my friends visit the Ema Tinje Booth. There was much celebration and talk about my love affair with writing and how it all led to the Book and the Booth.
As we were chatting, *nostalgically* about my early dabbling with short stories, one of my sister friends reminded me of one of her favs of my short stories. I laughed because I wrote this piece while trying to figure out what kind of writer I am… so I went hunting for it in the archives to present it here.
I must say that I am amused by the style and the premise of the story… it’s a short flash fiction piece… here have a read:
Naked Flashes
I moved to this particular gated apartment complex for the love of space, light and hardwood floors. The living room sprawled for what seemed like miles with awesome windows letting the light in from everywhere.The sun in the morning streaked in at dawn and stayed. It was the light that got me. You see, I love windows on principal. Dark rooms depress me. I am pretty sure it has something to do with
the four years I spent in a narrow, windowless office while I finished two excruciating masters’ degrees.In any case, the windows had me at hallo.
I also love being naked in rooms filled with light. I hate it that nakedness is considered some sort of taboo in most African cultures. Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate being connected to the earth and at least ten years behind postmodernism (which is just a major trip down depression). But I just long for the freedom to just be – no protocol, zero traditions that dictate behavior etc. And my little rebellion to the structure of my culture is to walk around naked in my house. It helps that I also live alone.
But my nakedness is secret so it’s all the more exciting.
I have to say that I don’t have a conventionally enviable body and well, most people wouldn’t expect a girl like me to be happy naked. But it is bliss. I like my short neck (that’s new for you too, right?)… I enjoy how my breasts fall over me, the bulge of my stomach, the dimple before… I like my tattoos (another symbol of my inner liberation)… I love the curve of hips, my strong thighs, and what I think are the sexiest legs. For a short person, I think my legs are rather long… I love my back, the smooth expanse of dark that dips into my waist and mushrooms into my ass. I have a nice bum. I have a tattoo above it, a lotus flower – a symbol of the life that I hold center. Yes, I know it’s rather cliché to have a tattoo right above my bum but I had so much fun getting it.
Most mornings, after a shower, I drag my near sheer curtains open and let the sun in. I bask naked in awe of the glorious light and let it seep into my soul, it seems. Then the window glass magnifies the open rays and my breasts heat up; there’s nothing like the sun.
Unselfconsciously, I opened my closed eyes only to find the daytime gate guard, mouth open, eyes wide, unable to move.
Earlier today, I felt eyes on my breasts in addition to the sun. I could feel them boring into me in awe.
My instinct was to scream, scream, scream, scream.
Instead, I drew the curtains, sat on my bed, and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
I am definitely liberal now; my nakedness is no longer my own.
Still no urge to put on clothes though!
This still makes me giggle… there were so many questions I got on whether its really did happen. But alas! it did not. I just have a crazy imagination.