The ‘radical’ pancake recipe
Posted by: Ed on: January 5, 2012
- In: Food
- 14 Comments
“I heard your pancakes were seen on Twitter,” says mother.
“What Twitter? How?” says father, who has little, if any, understanding of what happens on social media.
I go ahead to explain Twitter and how people update what’s current, what they’re doing or what’s happening in their world. Father shakes his head, bemused, at the fact that anyone would want to share with the world what they were currently eating or cooking for that matter. I’m on my way to the kitchen to make their evening tea. “Why don’t you also put that on Twitter?” says father, somewhat sarcastically. I laugh quietly to myself (what is now referred to as LQTM) as I walk away.
This conversation took place a day after I had made and tweeted about the said pancakes using the hashtag #radicalpancakerecipe. Radical, because I thought it was pretty cool and unique to make pancakes with raisins (being a dried fruit enthusiast), before I googled ‘raisin pancakes’ and found out that they actually existed. It’s been done before ladies and gentlemen! Bummer! :-/
Anyhow, I followed the usual pancake recipe, with a few modifications. These made me about 18 pancakes.
Ingredients
2 ½ cups of self-raising flour
2 ½ cups of milk
1 egg
Half a packet of raisins
2 tablespoons of butter or margarine
1 teaspoon of salt
4 tablespoons of sugar
1 lemon
Method
Nothing extraordinary. Just your usual pancake recipe.
Mix the flour, salt and sugar in a large bow. For some types of flour, sifting is necessary. I didn’t need to sift the type I used. Make a hole in the middle if this mixture and pour in the milk, raisins, lemon rind (skin), egg and margarine (which incidentally needs to be melted in advance. I never did this). Mix all these until smooth. If you happen to have one of those electric mixers, even better. Nifty little gadgets, these. Effortlessly giving you that perfectly smooth and fluffy mixture.
The preliminary stages: self-raising flour, sugar and salt
Just before I mixed in the raisins and lemon rind
After this heat a lightly oiled frying pan. Avoid high heat. Medium high heat is recommended for this. I tried pouring and spreading the pancake mix on the pan using a large spoon, but I found that this makes them rather shapeless. For that nice round (well, not perfectly) shape most of us like in pancakes, try pouring a small amount of the mix into the pan then evenly spreading it round the pan by tilting the pan around till the mixture fills it, then shaping out the edges with a spoon. This worked for me. Ensure the pancake browns well on both sides, but not too much that it gets crispy.
Some people like to cook their pancakes in butter or margarine. I’ve tried margarine but found that it made them acquire a slightly salty taste. I use cooking oil. Use as little as possible. You don’t want your pancakes oily.
You’ll find that the raisins sink into the pancake mix, so you might have to scoop deep into your mix to ensure that you get some raisins on every pancake. Alternatively, add the raisins manually after pouring the mix onto the pan. Ensure that the side with the raisins (because they tend to fall on one side) browns properly. Also ensure that the raisins are evenly distributed, not too many or too little on one pancake.
Try to distribute the raisins evenly.
When your pancakes are ready, sprinkle some fresh lemon juice on them. You could also try honey or syrup, whatever your fancy. Enjoy them with a glass of cold milk, juice or tea, again, whatever tickles you fancy.
The tasty results!
P.S. I actually refer to my parents as mother and father….in recent times. I find it makes things rather interesting and weirdly formal. 
Unsaid But Written wishes you a tasty 2012!
Let’s go to prison – Part 2
Posted by: Ed on: December 15, 2011
- In: Life
- 6 Comments
So we casually moseyed into the prison ready for our one day sentence er, visit. Kamiti Medium Security Prison is for offenders with less than a five year sentence, and also for petty offenders. We were met by one of the senior wardens. He was very warm and hospitable. He advised us to leave our phones, among other valuables, in the car but some of us, read me, needed to generate live tweets from Kamiti Prison (how often do you see that? ) and take photos for our blogs.
We all had to give our names and ID numbers at a registration desk of sorts before going in. As I spelt out my (often misspelt) last name for one of the lady wardens, I wondered how they (the wardens) felt about their jobs. They didn’t have the easiest jobs in the world yet they were all seemed very pleasant. Nothing like the tyrannical bastards you’d imagine them to be.
An escort was required to move around the prison at all times. Being in the prison vicinity made you a prisoner of sorts. You were not free to wander as you pleased and had to adhere to a set of rules. All males were required to have a visitor’s tag displayed at all times for obvious reasons.
An aged notice board above the registration desk read in big, bold letters, “WAJUE WATORO WENU – KNOW YOUR PRISONERS.” I found it rather confusing. Watoro, plural of mtoro, means escapee or refugee in Swahili. The Swahili word for prisoner is mfungwa or mahabusu (which is specifically used to refer to those awaiting trial. Looked it up ). So did this statement mean that you should know your escapees or prisoners? I may never know.
We spent our first hour at the prison seated in a tent, with the prisoners seated, some standing, at the far ends of both tents watching our every move, I would imagine. I avoided making eye contact at all costs. A quick glance once every while was all I could afford. There were a few cat calls here and there, which was expected given the huge population of ladies in our midst. Later on, I heard one of the inmates tell his comrade, “Kuwa mfungwa ni vibaya! Wengine hapa hata sijui walizaliwa wapi. Sijui naeza watoa wapi (It sucks to be a prisoner! I don’t know where some of these ladies were born. I don’t know where I can find such),” referring to some ladies painting alongside them, but I digress.
What did the prisoners think of us? Did they enjoy having visitors? Did we seem like a bunch of detached NGOish types? As I looked around, I noticed an elderly Asian inmate with a balding head and graying hair. He really stood out from the rest of the pack. I wondered what he was in for. I wondered what every inmate was in for. A few wardens briefed us on the day’s activities, one of them saying in very many words that prisons were actually ‘not so bad’ nowadays. At one point he mentioned that we should not imagine prisons as hell holes (not in these exact words). And that the inmates were learning a great many skills. In our midst were skilled farmers, carpenters, acrobats, dancers, et cetera. He added that the food there was top notch. “Mtapata buffet huku (You’ll find a buffet here),” he said animatedly. “Pilau, kuku, nyama za kila aina…” (“Pilau, chicken and all kinds of meat…),” he went on while a section of the inmates quietly scoffed at his sarcasm. I cringed at what I considered a misguided attempt at humour. I wondered if any of the inmates found this funny.
A group of skilled acrobat inmates doing 'the human helicopter'
Another warden echoed his sentiments about how prisons had indeed become better places. He said something to the effect that in 2000, an open door policy was made to allow relatives and friends to visit their loved ones in prison. Now I tried to find a confirmation of this in The Prisons Act, among other legal documents but didn’t find one. Anyone with the correct information, feel free to let me know and I shall make the necessary changes, if need be, but I digress (as usual). The prisoners seemed to have a relatively good relationship with the wardens. Some seemed almost like friends. It was good, I thought, the improvement of facilities, acquirement of useful skills and better treatment of the inmates (though part of me knows that people who have undergone unspeakable atrocities in the hands of some of these inmates may not agree). I wondered about the rehabilitative function prisons are meant to serve? How effective was that here?
After we were familiarized with our surroundings and introduced to the senior wardens, it was time to get to work. We had a choice of painting the prisoner’s social hall or participating in or cheering on a game of football between the inmates and wardens and later on between the inmates and our group. There were also group counseling sessions held for the prisoners who so desired. I chose to paint. Masks, brushes, sandpaper and paint were distributed among the group that was painting and we soon got to work.
P.s. A month or so after our visit, I watched a feature on prisons on GBS (I was channel flipping and it caught my eye, you know, because I had been to a prison before. Wait, why am I explaining myself? Pfff :p). So this feature was done in Kamiti Meidum Prison and I saw some familiar faces. I saw a few wardens and prisoners I had interacted with and I said, “I know that guy! Him too!” Thankfully, there was no one around to go like o_O. Feel free to give me the look (well virtually) as you read this. I also saw the social hall we painted. The inmates were practising a dance routine (that they performed for us that day) there. “We painted that place!” I said. I felt proud.
Let’s go to prison – Part 1
Posted by: Ed on: December 13, 2011
- In: Life
- 12 Comments
I was going to prison. I know it’s weird but I was somehow looking forward to it. A mixture of anticipation, anxiety, and curiosity filled me as that fateful Saturday drew close. Prison. What was it going to be like? I wondered.
I’m innocent! I know a lot going to people going to prison say that but please, believe me! I had not committed any crime. I was headed to Kamiti Medium Security Prison with members of Mizizi, a bible study/life class that I was taking. The class required the students to take part in a social justice activity as part of a lesson on how to share God’s heart by sharing with the less fortunate. We were to help the inmates of Kamiti Medium Security Prison by painting their social hall, interacting and sharing the love of Christ with them.
Prior to the activity, a number of guidelines had been given to us by our facilitators:
1. Do not negotiate with the inmates.
2. Do not make any promises to the inmates.
3. Do not let the inmates use your phone.
4. Wear comfortable clothing.
5. Ladies, wear loose clothing.
I found some of these a tad strange. They sounded a lot like the ‘Do not feed the animals’ rules in zoos. Anyhow I did understand that all these rules were given to us for a reason.
That morning I selected what I considered my loosest pair of old jeans, a pair of rubber shoes, an old t-shirt and pulled my hair back into a simple pony tail. I planned to be as inconspicuous as possible. I met the rest of my group in town and together, we waited for the guys driving us there. Half an hour later, we were on our way to Kamiti.
What did I expect from this visit? Was I going to make a new inmate friend? I had never interacted with an inmate prior to this. Inmate sounds like something your friend would say if you had a great plan for the weekend. “I’m in mate!” Or like a very close buddy. “Yeah, we’re pretty close. He’s one of my inmates.” These were some of my thoughts concerning our visit to the prison.
In between these thoughts, I chastised myself for regarding inmates as a breed of rare species preserved behind bars in a far away location to avoid extinction. I wondered if I was making too much of a big deal out of the visit. These were just ordinary people who made mistakes, took a wrong turn somewhere along the way, or acted out of blind or selfish ambition, maybe greed, right? We’re all guilty of these sins. We’re just lucky to get second, third and fourth chances. Nothing to be scared of. No need to regard them with this mixture of fear and amazement. Some were probably even innocent victims of injustice.
Then my thoughts took another turn. Wait a minute! Some of these individuals had murdered. Some had committed robbery with a lot of violence. Some had raped, pillaged and vandalized. I knew of people who had died painful deaths in the cruel hands of their ilk. Maybe the guy who pointed a gun at my dad was in there. Someone there had stolen my friend’s wallet that contained a significant amount of money and documents of identification that are not easy to come by in this country. Someone there had caused a great deal of mental anguish to someone dear to me. Fear, terror and disgust were not such wrong responses after all. Why was I even headed there? Oh right, there was the forgiveness and second chances thing. Also, learning to share God’s heart and the role I play in social justice. And oh, paint.
I know, I know. I’m a conflicted individual. We were at the prison’s gate in an hour or so. The huge gates opened to a small prison community with a school, shops, make-shift stands with women selling and fruits and vegetables, and the wardens’ houses. All the buildings were old, most dilapidated. “Deplorable!” one of the ladies from our group exclaimed at the terrible condition of the wardens’ tiny houses. Life in the seemingly alienated community went on undisturbed. Most seemed almost oblivious of our presence there. We drove further inside. The prison was located a kilometer or more from the main gate.
P.s. The title Let’s go to prison was inspired by a movie with the same title that I watched and immensely enjoyed a few years ago. Watch it and let me know if you liked it as much as I did 
Here’s the trailer.
Writing thus far
Posted by: Ed on: November 17, 2011
I’ve been writing for close to four years now and have been published in a few publications here and there, including good ol’ Unsaid But Written, which is not really a publication but a blog. My blog. I’ve made a few observations in the course of my esteemed vocation. It’s interesting that writing does not get easier as time goes by. Neither is it guaranteed that your writing will get better with time. You’re only as good as your last piece in this field. Sadly. Today you’re a star, riding high on that literary wave. Tomorrow, you’re wading in a murky, shallow pool of nonsensical words.
Every time you think you’re used to writing or used to the natural order of things, you encounter Writers Block (which is increasingly being dispelled as a lethargy-induced myth by one of my editors), lack of ideas, lack of motivation, hunger, anger, laziness, Twitter, scones (they’re on my desk as I write this), among many other challenges facing today’s writer. Saying today’s writer may be incorrect. I mean, I cannot imagine the challenges faced by writers of yore. Really, I cannot. My hardships must pale in comparison to theirs.
Writing with feathers must’ve been quite the task. The tip of the feather probably must’ve blunted or broken severally. Not to mention running out of ink. Or chicken, among other poultry or exotic birds that I imagine were the source of these writing implements. Or choking on tiny feathers accidentally ingested. Inspiration doesn’t seem like it was a problem then. Look at history. They’ve probably exhausted all the stuff that could be written about!
Currently, I write for a local family magazine. Some days are good. Sometimes I write stories from what initially seems like NOTHING (and I’m not sure the use of caps here emphasize the nothingness I’m referring to). I end up feeling like superwoman and I resort to using phrases like, “Who’s your daddy? Er…I mean mommy. Who’s your mommy?” Somehow daddy sounds more hard-hitting.
And some days like today, actually right now, I want to yank the wires out of my computer and throw it out the window, which would probably not do much damage seeing as our building is not storied. Sigh. I mean I have a great story sitting on my computer. A great story about a great person. A hero by all means. A great inspiration. Someone who NEEDS to be written about. I have more than enough information to write the said story, yet I cannot. It is an awesome story in my head yet I cannot translate my thoughts into 2,000 words of a great read. Also, the editor is waiting for said story as I blog.
Am I afraid I will not do any justice to this man’s story? Yes. Will I write the story anyway? Again, yes. Will I ask another question for effect, that I will then proceed to answer? Yes.
What is the moral of this blog post? I’m not sure. I haven’t blogged in a while. But that is not why I write this. Maybe we need the drug they had in the movie Limitless. Maybe we need some sort of inspiration injection. Maybe I need to see something amazing and be infinitely inspired. A talking monkey or an actual pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I know none of these seem inspiring but none of you should doubt it because you haven’t seen them. I just need some inspiration. Any inspiration.
How to take a Twitter break
Posted by: Ed on: July 26, 2011
Sometime in April, I decided to log off Twitter for a couple of important (seriously) reasons that I will not disclose. Ok, it was for the GREATER good. Happy? Anyhow, it will become clear once you read what I have to say. It was actually on March 31st, which means that I missed all the hilarious April Fools’ tweets that I found out about later. So here are a few steps I learnt about quitting Twitter when you need to.
1. Decide to quit twitter for a couple of days. Trust me, you definitely have a reason. At least four days. Any less and there won’t be much effect.
2. Don’t announce your departure on Twitter. Make your last tweet an indefinite one. My last one before I took a break was, “Coke before bedtime – not a good idea.” And it wasn’t.
3. Tweeps you know may randomly mention in conversation or on a call or text, that they have not seen your tweets for a while. You will, of course, respond to this by telling them that you’re on a Twitter break. They will want to know why. Give a vague and mysterious answer to those that ask. Say stuff like, “I felt like it was time.” Or “I’m doing this for my country”. Those are good enough answers. Don’t say when you’ll be back on Twitter.
4. Keep a dramatic diary of your days away from Twitter. Here’s an excerpt from mine.
“So I decided to take a break from Twitter for several days (four days, that include a weekend so you can imagine the magnitude of this action ) for a number of important reasons… This is the diary I kept for those four agonizing days:
Day 1- 31/3/2011
NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I AM DYING TO TWEET!! I logged into Twitter several times today…you know to see how things were going, though I didn’t tweet 
I really wanna Tweet right now. I’m addicted, right? Anyway I logged in, read people’s tweets, laughed at some… Also, I saw some really great tweets that I was dying to retweet, but I could not. OH THE HUMANITY!! Am I being too dramatic about this? I mean it’s only Twitter. SIGH
Oh you should know that I replied two DMs today, dear temporary diary. If our brief relationship is going to work, I have to tell you everything. Those DMs were important. Seriously, they were…” End of excerpt.
5. Log in once in a while during your break just to see how things are going, but DO NOT tweet. Actually, after day one of your break, refrain from doing this. You’ll be surprised by how much free time you suddenly have. Use this time wisely. Bird watching or ice sculpting are viable options. If not, read a book or something.
6. After your break is over, make a nonchalant return, never mentioning that you were away unless someone asks. Give previously mentioned vague answers to anyone who asks why you needed to be off Twitter.
And you’re back to the same old addiction that you love to hate.
Note:
This won’t work if you’re not a frequent Tweeter/addicted to Twitter. Also, now that I’m not really addicted to Twitter (Don’t look at me like that! I’m not! *shrugs*) and can take a whole day, nay, two days off comfortably, I look back on those days and chuckle at my…well, I just chuckle.
Have you had any trouble with social media addiction? Any tips?
My 5 Links
Posted by: Ed on: July 20, 2011
- In: Blogging
- 12 Comments
It’s about time I took part in an interesting blogging whatchamacallit with other bloggers! Anyhow, this is about ‘My 5 Links’, which @eGichomo (a blogging enthusiast, among other things) who blogs here calls a chance to go into the archives and share some of the links that you feel deserve another read. It’s also to appreciate bloggers in Kenya and share mini-blog rolls for a broader read. A most noble idea, I must say. If and when you take part, tag five bloggers whom you’d like to read a similar post from.
I started blogging in October 2010 on Blogger then moved to WordPress…amid a lot of pomp and celebration. Here’s my last post on ye olde blog and my first post on WordPress here. Yes, I am using this post for more than it’s intended for and making you read pretty much my whole blog. Anyhuuu (I realize I say this a lot) let’s get to it. Here are the five categories:
My Most Popular Post : The ‘desert island’ question
Funny enough, out of all the informative (not really ) entries on good ol’ ‘Unsaid But Written’ this was the most popular. There was really not much to this post. It came to me on a dreary Monday evening when work inspiration and productivity were running dangerously low, even with looming deadlines. It’s about uh…the ‘desert island’ question, you know, like the name suggests It’s about that question, as asked in interviews, of all kinds really.
Post that Didn’t Get The Attention It Deserved : New kid on the blog woes
I know it was only my third post but I somehow expected it to do better than it did. I mean just look at the title ‘new kid on the blog’. Do you know how proud of myself I was after coming up with such limitless wit? No. You don’t. Anyhow, my only source of self-promotion then was Facebook, and it seems that it didn’t work very well for me. So now the post can finally get a little action ey. 
Post Whose Success Surprised Me : Now that she’s gone…
Wow, what can I say… I was totally surprised by the response to this sappy post. It’s probably also my only unplanned post. Yes, dear reader I do plan most of my blog posts. I just sat, rather, lay down and wrote it on my sister’s wedding night. It’s awesome when people can relate to what you write. Really, it is. Especially when you consider yourself to be of extraterrestrial origin…*ahem*….moving along in the speed of light…
My Most Controversial Post : Interesting things that I have thought of doing with my blog
I’m actually laughing as I write this because I’m probably one of the least controversial people ever! Yes, like I once mentioned on my blog posts, I am very phlegmatic (again, I need to blog about that), the ultimate pacififst, probably a few paces away from becoming a hippie, walking barefoot with flowers in my hair…and changing my name to something like Moonflower. Seriously though, um I have changed this part (I’m not sure if that’s allowed) and instead included what I consider to be my lamest post ever haha. Evidently, I am not in possession of a controversial post. Needta get myself one of those.
Post I Am Most Proud Of : Feelings and Emoticons
I am mighty proud of this post. What started off as a silly observation on noseless smileys grew into paragraphs of abstract thought on the famed emoticons. And that is one of the things I love about blogging. The surprise. Mostly pleasant. Once I put finger to keyboard I never know what it’s going to look like in the end.
Viva la blogging!
So there you have it dear reader. My 5 Links. What are your thoughts on these?
Tagging the following bloggers to follow suit:
@AkelLove who blogs at http://theshynarcissist.blogspot.com/
@mawazo_mengi who blogs at http://www.wanjeri.com/
@Truthslinger who blogs at http://mutuamatheka.wordpress.com/
@twezlie who blogs at http://littleknownpoet.wordpress.com/
@ndinda_ who blogs at http://myinkdropshere.wordpress.com/
Ode To Delay
Posted by: Ed on: June 23, 2011
- In: Poetry
- 20 Comments
On the brink
of inward apocalypse,
full realization came.
It was the darkest of night,
the weary traveller longed for home.
Half coal,
cocooned beauty.
Then, dawn brightens the sky,
the weary traveller is home.
Coal, now dusty diamond.
The beautiful butterfly meets the world.
And the dear price
of patience,
is paid in full.
It dawned on me that I will almost always have to explain my poetry. See my poetry is very personal and sometimes hard to understand, or so I’ve been told. I hardly ever write poetry. I write when inspired by a situation, life event, et cetera. While everything is open to interpretation, and I’d like the reader to interpret this in any way they may please, I’ll explain what I mean.
This particular piece, as the name may suggest, is about tolerance, waiting, patience, and related issues. Necessary delays. They say it’s darkest before dawn, a diamond is a piece of coal that stuck to its job, and a butterfly has to go through the larval stage (you probably can’t imagine how beautiful the little guy in the above pic will look in a few days) and be cocooned for a while before emerging as the beautiful creature it is.
They say patience pays. They (always wonder who ‘they’ are) also say ‘good things come to those who wait’, ‘the best is yet to come’, and many other one-liners relating to patience. I believe patience is a great virtue that I, sadly, do not have a lot of. I’m the kind to say, “God, please give me patience, NOW!” Anyhow, I do pray for patience. And not only that, but also to maintain a good attitude while waiting for whatever it is I will be waiting for in any case. I pray the same for you…especially as you await my next entry.
Of things unsaid
Posted by: Ed on: May 30, 2011
- In: Poetry
- 6 Comments
That when the beautiful evening sun
casts its glorious glow
on the bare hills,
When the trees gently sway
to the wind’s soft whisper,
As the solitary workman
slowly cycles home,
When everything lays still
and the birds’ chirping
is all that’s heard,
A lone tear rolls down
our rosy cheeks
and causes a ripple in the calm,
where still waters run dangerously deep.
Note: This begins a series of poetry I wrote a few years back that I will post on this ‘ere web log. I can’t even believe I wrote that. I haven’t been able to write even a stanza of poetry in a long while.
Interesting that this particular one is called ‘Of things unsaid’ huh. What better blog to post this on than ‘Unsaid but written’ ey
The ‘desert island’ question
Posted by: Ed on: May 9, 2011
Disclaimer: Written on a long, cold and boring Monday at work. May not make much sense.
I’ve always found it interesting that people are asked about the things they would bring to or if stranded on a desert island in interviews. I always wonder:
a. If one were stranded, wouldn’t the option of what to bring be off the table?
b. Why would I want to be on a desert island in the first place? It’s DESERTED.
c. Why do people think that it’s one big holiday? If it’s a DESERT island, doesn’t that already mean that it has extreme weather conditions, no people or if at all cannibalistic islanders, no food, and dangerous pre-historic/‘thought to be extinct’ animals like in Ice Age?
d. Who first came up with this question?
All the same, this is a common interview question and it’s probably going to be there for a long while before someone comes up with another one like, ‘What would you bring if you were stranded on the moon?’ which really is a no-brainer, and raises the same questions I’ve asked. I know I’m over thinking this and I do that a lot. In fact, over thinking has inspired a couple of blog posts. Evidently, this is one of them.
Moving along, do you have any idea what a desert island is? According my trusty old Thesaurus, a desert island is a remote tropical island, typically uninhabited. Wikipedia says that a deserted island or uninhabited island is an island that has yet to be (or is not currently) populated by humans. They also say that a desert island is denoted as such because it exists in a state of being deserted, or abandoned and that an arid, desert climate is not typically implied.
This means that, contrary to what I said earlier, a desert island may actually be awesome, with white sandy beaches, an ocean, palm trees, hot bikini clad natives serving cocktails…ok that last one was a long shot, but you get the picture. However, this does not take away the possibility of what I had mentioned earlier, you know, extreme weather, weird animals, and cannibalistic inhabitants.
What to bring to a desert island? Yes, practicality does not apply much here but you have to at least think of stuff that would actually be useful there, right? I’ve observed a number of interesting responses to this question. Here are a few common responses and my thoughts on them:
1. Internet connection- as awesome as it would be to have this, I doubt Safaricom or any other network has a ‘desert island roaming’ package to offer.
2. Lip balm- Will you really worry about chapped lips on a desert island? Also, you may have to eat the lip balm later, especially if it’s one of those fruity, nice-tasting ones. Or maybe use it to cook?
3. iPod- It will be fun at first, but will run out of charge and become useless.
4. Laptop – Also cool at first but will run out of charge, hence unrealistic.
5. Cellphone – I doubt you’ll have any signal plus you’ll eventually run out of charge, but hey you never know. May come in handy.
6. Guitar – Realistic, even if like me, you don’t know the first thing about chords. Think of the songs you’d write, and maybe later on release a ‘Desert Island’ album.
7. My family – *Sigh* again, being stranded on a desert island is not a holiday. Leave the family out of this. Especially if there are kids.
Some of these things are rather unrealistic. It seems that people did not learn much from watching Lost or reading Robinson Crusoe. So ignoring the fact that you may not willingly take yourself to a desert island and the other fact – that you would not have an option of what to bring if you were stranded- here’s what to say the next time you’re in a high profile interview or someone randomly asks you this question. The list is not in order of importance, and is in no way exhaustive. I guarantee that you will sound smart and cool at least seven times out of ten
1. A pen, and lots of writing material to document your desert island experience, and maybe make a manuscript for a book you may write later on. Something like On The Edge Of Humanity: The (insert your two names here) Story or something like that. I’m sure you have other more creative titles.
2. A couple of books to while the time away plus you can use them to light a fire later on. The Bible would be included in the list of books, but would not be used to light fires.
3. A GPS tracking device or a compass for obvious reasons.
4. Lots of water.
5. A mirror. No, not to make yourself pretty because no one really cares, but you can use this to make some sort of signal for rescue.
6. A torch/flashlight to make signals and also for use at night.
7. Food. I’m thinking canned foods.
8. A rope(s) to fell tree branches to make a shelter, for firewood, make a swing like Tarzan’s or one just for fun. It can also be used to strangle small animals for food.
9. A knife to kill small animals or to sharpen wooden weapons for hunting.
10. A lighter or matches – To provide a source of heat which you’ll need to roast small animals and insects which you will have to eat at some point after your food runs out, and also for warmth.
11. A nail cutter- Can you imagine how long and monstrous your nails would be after a while?
12. Ketchup or some other sauce – If you have to eat gross stuff it’s only fair.
13. An extra pair of converse shoes because your shoes will wear out, and also to at least look cool during rescue
14. A camera to capture a coupla sunsets, take a few pics of yourself in utter despair, plus a few pics with the islanders, if there are any.
15. Board games – Nothing like a game of monopoly with island inhabitants!
In closely related matters, if I were stranded on desert island, I’d hope to run into a friendly desert native, who I can teach stuff like Robinson Crusoe did in that famed Daniel Defoe book. Well, she’d also teach me stuff. I’d name her Girl Thursday (or whatever day of the week I find her). I know that’s not very creative of me but Crusoe kind of set the precedent. I’d however like to point out that I would not treat her like a slave. Though I’m thinking that things may get rather awkward one day on that island when we’ve exhausted all food resources and Thursday and I have to resort to cannibalism. Anyhow, what would you bring to a desert island?
Now that she’s gone…
Posted by: Ed on: April 18, 2011
- In: Life
- 29 Comments
9/4/11
I’m lying on my bed listening to The Script as I type this. Glassy eyed. Uncomfortably full, yet thinking of checking if there’s cake in the fridge. No, I did not just break up with my boyfriend. Neither did I accidentally delete all my music. My sister just got married. Yeah, I know. It doesn’t seem like something to get overly sad about. And I’m not overly sad. I’m looking for a word to describe how I feel. Nostalgic? I suppose. You know how when you’re used to having someone around for so long, when they leave it creates a big void in your life? No? Who are you? Oh, you do? Pheew, thought I was the only one. Course I’m not the only one. Pff.
Anyway, I haven’t even felt half of that void yet. That, I’m sure. But oh it is definitely in the offing. See, my sister is less than two years older than I am. One year, eight months, two days and 22 hours to be exact. Ok I’m kidding about the hours. We haven’t been away from each other for more than a week for, a really long time, save for our high school years when we were both in different boarding schools. I’ve also shared a room with her pretty much all my life. Well, a room and so much more. Now, I stare at her bed and some of the belongings that she is yet to take to her new home and it makes me . Really, it does. I keep thinking she’s off at a friend’s house for a sleep over or at band practice and that she’ll be back in the morning. She’s not. And she won’t.
Here’s a couple of things that will happen now that she’s gone.
1. I won’t see the lights on in what used to be ‘our room’ when I come home late and she’s home before me.
2. I’ll have no one to ask how I look in the morning; and no one to tell me which earrings, shoes, scarves et cetera best go with my outfits.
3. I’ll have no one to ask, “Does this make me look thin?” She was always the best person to ask.
4. I’ll probably have to get my own bathroom slippers. I’ve been using hers for close to two years.
5. I’ll have no one to have silly conversations with, in bad French/Spanish/Middle Eastern accents.
6. I’ll have to make a lot of decisions on my own.
7. I’ll have no one to recreate dramatic scenes from Ratatouille/The Incredibles/Despicable Me, among other animations, with.
8. I’ll have no one to make fun of/act out possible dramatic scenes from Latina soaps with.
9. I’ll have no one to sing old R’n’B songs with plus recreate music videos…ok we do a lot of recreating, evidently.
10. I’ll have to get a pair of pink studded earrings, and a brown sweater. I used to wear hers every time I needed to.
11. I’ll have to make more use of my alarm clock. She used to wake me up when I overslept. Mostly.
12.
I know all this seems rather silly but it kind of meant a lot, and that is why I’m accepting sisterhood applications. Yes, I am looking for a semi-permanent replacement.
Am I being a tad dramatic about this? Maybe. She’s not gone forever. Neither is she dead. She’s just out of my immediate reach. She’s a wife now and maybe a mother soon. Meanwhile, I have some growing up to do. Having an older sibling spoils you in a way. You always have someone looking out for you who has, in most cases, been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, and donated it to charity. So I’m learning how to deal with these, and other, life changes the best way I can (acceptance…ok who am I kidding, I’m just spending more time with my laptop ), even though I do not respond to change very well, probably as a result of my very phlegmatic temperament (we’ll talk about that sometime). Are you facing any life changes? How are you coping?
P.s. There was cake in the fridge. Found out the next morning
P.s.(2) Irrelevant info –> My name was first on the bridesmaids list – cheap thrills
