2023-05-20 10:40
Nothing is easy now. Dressing. Toileting. Moving. Moving is especially hard. She leans backwards. She wobbles as she walks, knees bent, feet tangling with every tread so that I mu… Read More
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Reluctant Memsahib | The Diary Of Wife, Mother And Blog
reluctantmemsahib.wordpress.com
the diary of wife, mother and failed domestic goddess in Africa
2023-03-30 07:05
Sometimes I wonder if Alzheimers has peeled off a layer of my mother that kept manners in place.
A bandaid of inhibition lies curled in the dust at our feet.
M… Read More
2023-01-08 09:00
When you look back, it’s like looking into the sun. I squint, to focus better.
Or a dream: it’s like trying to reflect on pieces of a dream, the sequential element… Read More
2022-09-10 08:14
There is this hideous anomaly. With dementia. At their most vulnerable, sufferers, when they need you the most – when they cannot get up and down steps alone or walk safely unai… Read More
2022-09-05 08:03
We are sitting in the garden, wrapped up warm against a nipping evening wind, watching the sun sink in the West; it settles itself low in the saddle strung between mountains, cushioned in du… Read More
2022-09-03 08:02
Every night, when I put Mum’s television on for her, I say, ‘Not sure if you’ve seen this one, Ma, it’s part of a series; I think you might have watched some of the e… Read More
2022-09-01 07:51
Mum used to say, ‘Never put me in a place like this’.
She said it as we stepped over the threshold and through a tall, imposing door into a nursing home – once a sta… Read More
2022-07-19 06:58
When I brought the binoculars to my face and the elephants swam into near view, I imagined I could hear the sounds of slaking a thirst, a firehose gush, a filling of bucket-empty-bellies.&nb&hell…Read More
2022-07-05 11:36
Come. Come for a walk.
We’ll go across the vlei and up to the reservoir and down the hill where they’re harvesting avocado so that Jip can pinch one for a snack.
Jip be… Read More
2022-06-24 12:11
Mum wakes in a foul mood. Drinks tea. Climbs back into bed so that she is a mound under blankets heaped over her. She looks like something in hibernation. She tells me she is too cold to get… Read More
2022-06-22 12:24
“I don’ know the answers”, says Mum. She looks crestfallen.
I tell her, ‘it’s not a test, ma, it was just in case you were interested’.
I have flagg… Read More
2022-06-20 09:31
We drive around the mountain to the other farm. The sky is duck egg blue and smeared with a haze which knocks all the sharp corners off the mountains so our views are soft, profiles powder p… Read More
2022-06-17 09:05
There is a pile of books in front of mum. At her side. Her feet. She’s forested by them. She picks up one and shortly afterwards abandons it for another.
I sense her frail grasp of… Read More
2022-05-07 09:23
This is where Africa sprawls carelessly; as if there is still so much wild space, she can afford to throw herself with abandon from horizon to horizon. She fills my lens, the tip and spill o… Read More
2022-04-21 09:27
When Alan Bennet wrote about his mother in his Untold Stories, he described her hanging onto her handbag – clutching it even as an inpatient in hospital, stuffing it under her pillow f… Read More
2022-03-26 06:19
I have thought of the word a lot lately: Home.
I count the number of houses I’ve lived in. I start: two at Kima; two in Naivasha and then later, much later, a young girl in London … Read More
2022-01-27 13:02
Mum is curled into a chair, her form shaped around a huge red photograph album. It is hers. From another time. Another home.
I recognise some of these faces, she says, but I cannot… Read More
2022-01-24 13:04
I think it as a walk across the lawn to pop the SD card out of the spy cam we have secured to the thin thigh of a sapling in the garden, “Shall I bother?”
When I s… Read More
2021-12-19 10:03
I feel Hat’s eyes on me as we watch.
Anthony Hopkins shuffles in and out of subtly changing rooms which morph from dark wood sixties decor to bright contemporary sleek. He is mostly… Read More
2021-12-11 11:40
I wonder why this happens. This deep, sweet, settling peace that descends when my children begin to fill my home up. Two are here. The third arrives in a week and then we are full fa… Read More
2021-12-06 12:41
Hat says to me on a walk, a late evening walk, so late I must push my sunglasses to the top of my head for the last of the afternoon is tipping over my western horizon and the sharp edge… Read More
2021-11-22 12:26
I have tried to call my mother every day for the last five.
She does not pick me up.
She is languishing in bed and melancholic.
Though she does not call it this: melancholy. … Read More
2021-11-16 15:57
(as observed in a single Skype conversation):
“Where are you these days anyway?”
“I don’t think I have ever visited you there, in Tanzania … have I?… Read More
2021-11-04 05:51
Mum asks me what the weather is like, ‘where you are?’
She does not remember where I am. I could be in the next door county. Or country. Or continent.
I tell… Read More
2021-10-01 11:59
I call Mum.
This time last year I’d have kept my camera turned firmly off – afraid she would not recognise me, afraid she’d muddle up the Abstract Daughter with the One… Read More
2021-09-24 13:58
Mum keeps asking, during our conversation, ‘Where’s my soup?’
I have timed this call badly – in the middle of her lunch.
She is staying with her brother and sis… Read More
2021-09-19 12:20
I have done this untold times.
And here I need to stop and count how many, on my fingers: twice before the Outpost, twice there, once then, and again then, oh, and then, and up here… Read More
2021-09-18 05:42
Sometimes my mountains retreat. Like ghosts. They melt to nothingness on hot horizons. Are burned clean away by the glare of sun. Or shrouded in mist or haze or dust so dense the… Read More
2021-09-10 13:21
My sister makes jam. She makes it with a devotedness that involves experimentation and the regular tweaking of recipes, adjustments that she records in a notebook for the next time… Read More
2021-07-01 10:52
I am in the hiatus between Africa and Ireland – in Eastern Europe, where time seems oddly stilled, ducking mandatory hotel imposed quarantines and keeping clean as I go with ma… Read More
2021-06-25 10:54
The water was like silk.
And so cool. I thought it would be colder. Even at eight in the morning it was an easy blood-warm swim and by evening I had to dive deep to feel even the fain… Read More
2021-06-20 07:59
I think I remember buying the card. It seems both so long ago and so recent that the past and present bump up against one another as strangers and acquaintances simultaneously: &lsqu… Read More
2021-06-13 08:30
I’m in Eastern Europe.
This is what Lord Byron said about where I am, ‘At the birth of our planet, the most beautiful encounter between the land and the sea must have happened… Read More
2021-06-03 11:53
Mum has been low these last few days.
An awareness I think of both her body and her brain letting her down.
She proclaims with such indignation, ‘well I wish somebody had b… Read More
2021-05-25 09:40
The first thing mum says to me when she picks up my call today is, ‘I have been having an argument with Sam, I hope you will be able to clear things up for me’.
Sa… Read More
2021-05-22 09:38
My sister says, on the phone, ‘sometimes when I talk to mum, it’s hard – you know – to keep the conversation moving forward’.
I know what she means. And I&rs&hell…Read More
2021-05-20 11:59
The last leg of my walk yesterday and suddenly the sun, caught in the crack afforded by a break in a blanket of cloud and my western horizons, flooded my world.
As if whiskey light we… Read More
2021-05-19 09:21
I hate the plodding of time when I can’t sleep.
Like now.
Weeks of it. Of insomnia. Plucking at me. Pinching.
Just as I slide towards sweet oblivion, there it is. And I am tug… Read More
2021-05-10 15:56
When I speak to mum today she is confused. A medical complaint which has been addressed is causing her concern. She does not remember the names of the relevant bits o… Read More
2021-05-07 16:47
Three days ago, I earned a writing commission on a paper I write for sometimes.
There is always elation in writing gigs. The money is rubbish. But the occupation is crucial.
Minding ga… Read More
2021-04-30 12:18
I listen as I pound. To podcasts. The only time I suspend the chat is when I need to talk to myself: my phone is crowded with voice notes. Aide-mémoires. Ideas. I’ll t… Read More
2021-04-26 05:28
Mum describes a rare outing in the car – for a doctor’s appointment in the city.
‘Was it Limerick you went to, Ma?’ I ask.
No, she says, ‘no, it wasn&rsqu&hell…Read More
2021-04-15 13:52
When I call Mum, I tell her it was her mother’s birthday yesterday.
I’m immediately sorry.
‘Oh no,’ she says, ‘I quite forgot.’
From the tone of… Read More
2021-04-12 12:33
I feel as if I’ve been bowled out. I am hollow. As if some giant hand has scraped me inside out. A windsock. Except one that hangs limply on a stagnant, listless day. I… Read More
2021-04-07 07:27
When I sit beneath the acacia, which shades the cottage verandah and frames distant Kilimanjaro and which is bedecked with weavers’ nests which hang bauble like from branches… Read More
2021-03-27 14:04
When the storm presses its thumb print heavy on the sky it bruises it fifty shades of grey, finger paints it in careless daubs, from smoke to deep black.
Clouds belly so low they alm… Read More
2021-03-24 12:50
Two days ago, when I called, mid afternoon, mum was still in bed.
She feels unwell, she says, her back is sore, her tummy is sore, she is tired, she did not sleep well.
She lis… Read More
2021-03-13 09:58
Mum says, ‘I am reading your book.’
And I cringe.
‘It’s very good’, she says kindly, ‘I am loving it; I am already on page 12!’
Ten… Read More
2021-03-10 13:36
Sometimes Mum does not remember her Grandchildren’s names.
Or if she does, they are muddled and mismatched; she attaches the wrong grandchildren to the wrong child. Or the wrong… Read More
2021-02-28 07:24
I grew up on the other side of this mountain. I raised my children on this side. It’s punctuated my horizons for years – like an exclamation mark; it says, ‘You’r… Read More
2021-02-25 13:59
When I call mum today, she tells me all about a young person who speaks to her every day.
‘She calls me every single day’, she says, ‘without fail; she’s so good… Read More
2021-02-19 07:43
I am describing the wildlife on the farm to Mum. I tell her I have had to curtail my walks, I walk less on the wild side now, for fear a buffalo will emerge from the bush.
‘A real b… Read More
2021-02-18 08:02
I call mum often.
Sometimes I have to work hard to keep dialogue going, Dementia means we can’t pick up where we left off last time. Mum’s failing memory means there i… Read More
2021-02-15 03:30
Mum says, when I call, that the print in her book is too small; it makes it hard to read. Her eyes are getting tired, she says.
‘I’m sure it’s not because… Read More
2021-02-11 18:24
Eight days went so fast, a blur, it’s almost as if he was never here.
Ben came home for the briefest visit. We had not seen him, our grown up son, for more than a year… Read More
2021-02-08 05:43
Mum tells me she is reading a new book.
“What are you reading, Ma?”
And I watch her squinting to study the title:
“Out of … Africa … Read More
2021-02-02 09:34
I have begun to retell mum her story. Over Skype. I say, ‘do you remember this?’ and ‘remember when?’ and ‘do you remember that?’.
I try to do… Read More
2021-01-31 10:12
The mountains are startling this morning. They are cut glass sharp. And they seem closer, as if inching up on one another in a duel, lances drawn.
I imagine, on days like this, that I ca… Read More
2021-01-19 11:54
Mum tells me today that she thinks she lives on a ship. She sounds unsure.
“Rob, is that his name? Rob who I live with”, yes, I assure her, Rob, “well Ro… Read More
2021-01-18 10:03
It hasn’t taken Jip long to realise the lucky dawn walk she had last week has become a welcome habit. If I get up, get out, I have realised, I get going. Settle to write better, feel t… Read More
2021-01-17 12:52
I takes courage to pick up the phone to mum.
I brace myself for recognition. Or not.
Today she is very confused. And I think of Nicci Gerrard’s words; she believes those who… Read More
2021-01-16 10:58
My grandmother lived like she cooked. Or perhaps she cooked like she lived. With abandon. With no regard for the recipe – or the rules. She didn’t take the road most travelle… Read More
2021-01-14 12:42
I said to my sister, my marriage feels like it’s got a puncture. A slow hiss accompanies us everywhere. We needle one another, are scratchy from too much time on our own on the mountai… Read More
2021-01-07 08:41
I call Mum late in the day, after a walk which takes me to the top of the farm and gets me out of the ‘office’ and my head out of itself. When I look at the huge vi… Read More
2021-01-06 12:21
It’s a year since I saw my son.
Sometimes, when the words won’t come, I gaze at the photos that face me. Collages and frames litter my desk, balance on books, are hung on… Read More
2021-01-05 08:29
Melie said to me once, ‘We always look down, we always seem to have our eyes downcast – do you think that’s because we need to watch our step? You know – in case of… Read More
2021-01-02 08:41
My daughter sends me her reading list for 2021. She reads voraciously with a commitment I admire, stretching herself, sounding new authors out. She is never intimidated by a title. Her… Read More
2020-12-31 12:13
Sometimes, when the children were younger, we’d sit around a table, usually when we found ourselves out at a restaurant, so it was rare, and we’d each imagine having a mi… Read More
2020-12-31 07:41
When I talk to mum, on Skype, I can see her but she can’t see me.
I tell her it’s because I am afraid if I turn my camera on, I’ll slow my internet connection up and… Read More
2020-12-28 13:44
You tell yourself at first that this can’t be for real. That you are imagining things, that the black-dog burden you’ve lugged about for years is just a shadow, that th… Read More
2020-12-24 06:14
The lamps were destined for somebody else. But he dismissed them as rubbish, eaten by time and scarred by salt and wind.
Can I have them? I asked
And dispatched the… Read More
2020-12-23 06:07
The evening sun is all whiskey distilled gold and as it slides like honey over my western horizons, it pulls mine and Jip’s shadows long and lean. I look taller in this light… Read More
2020-12-22 07:57
I pay too much for the plums. I can’t be bothered to haggle.
They squat fatly in a plastic bag sweating.
And I don’t know what to do with them. … Read More
2020-12-18 07:16
It’s kind of a small word: memories, isn’t it. Subtle, unobtrusive, soft. It doesn’t barge into the conversation and demand attention. We let it slip into our dialo… Read More
2020-12-09 09:53
When a storm sweeps in, it smudges the mountains so that their profiles are obliterated; you’d never know they were there. I drive home from town and the rain is torrential; I can&rsqu&hell…Read More
2020-11-28 09:44
My mother in law used to call them pyjama lilies, a big headed pink and white striped amyaryllis, Crinum kirkii. I found two pairs precisely like this in the mitumba last week: pjs. And… Read More
2020-11-20 13:24
The agapanthus in the garden are all blue and big headed. They nod in the breeze, as if in communion about when the rain may come. It does. Gently mostly. At night. Or fiercely in the aftern… Read More
2020-11-15 09:13
We had an accident on Friday. One that was waiting to happen.
A bodaboda – the name we use to describe the motorbike taxis that roar around like bees, engines buzzing frenetical… Read More
2020-10-23 06:32
When the quelea rise from the bush, they do it all at once, with a great synchronised rustling, dense flocks smoke the air and scissor the sky with the rush of a million tiny wings; the soun… Read More
2020-07-15 09:28
Sometimes, sometimes because life heaps itself heavily upon you, you need to get away. Right away. Away from madding crowds and maddening chores and the mundanity of it all.
So we did… Read More
2020-06-24 08:14
Yesterday it was 35 years since my father died.
I do the math.
He has been gone from my brother’s life for almost twice as long as he was in it; nearly three times as many years as… Read More
2020-05-06 09:33
Sending you big skies and space and hoping you are safe and staying sane in Lockdown everywhere. From West Kilimanjaro, looking across the sway of a saddle towards Longido, Namanaga and Amb… Read More
2020-04-28 12:03
I imagine London falling quiet, quieter, today at eleven for a minute. A minute to remember the fallen of the NHS. Today there would be been almost nobody on the streets, in cabs, on trains… Read More
2020-04-23 10:05
?
We are steeped and soggy on the farm; the rain keeps falling. The cat comes into our bedroom in the small hours, loudly announcing his arrival and complaining bitterly that he is cold and… Read More
2020-04-19 17:35
I should have been chronicling all this. All of it. I’ll regret it.
My grandfather survived the 1918 flu. I once read his diary, penned in green ink. I was interested. But not intere… Read More
2020-03-18 13:18
So town yesterday was a little surreal.
When I descended from my position of splendid isolation to venture out into the world of the loud and the living, I found it changed.
Isolation is no… Read More
2020-01-15 13:50
Hat says that holidays are for making memories.
Taking pictures. Making memories. Remembering.
But when you squeeze the people you love most in the world into a house for a month, there are… Read More
2019-09-25 12:37
I finished Kate Spicer’s Lost Dog late last night and cried soft snotty sobs into my pillow. When I told Hat I was going to read it she asked, ‘you sure that’s a goo… Read More
2019-09-16 14:06
The Ruaha is spilling and swallow-you-whole enormous. When we fly in, we float up the river’s throat like an eagle riding a thermal and I-spy elephants drinking. And then it’s… Read More
2019-09-03 12:51
I keep telling myself, sternly, ‘she was just a dog.’
But even dogs leave gaps. And in my often lonely life, where company is rare and precious, gaps gouged let an icy draught i… Read More
2019-05-09 11:50
We think the rain isn’t coming. We say, ‘already May – and no rain; it’s not coming’.
It’s too cool for rain now, we say. As it can be too cold for sno… Read More
2019-04-23 13:21
So I did embark on my MA. I have struggled through the first year.
I have not found the words hard: the writing, the reading. Nor – even – the discipline that must attend… Read More
2019-04-22 10:27
The rains are late. Late, late.
They say, here they say, that Mozambique sucked all our rain up and poured it down further south in devastating torrents. That’s Africa for you: feast… Read More
2019-02-04 09:08
Ant says to me, ‘we take our views for granted’.
But he is wrong. I don’t. For years, in the Outpost, I lived in a place so flat, so unimpressed by topography that there… Read More
2019-01-30 12:34
Latterly I have been trying to save a piece of the world.
A little corner.
A tiny slice that is important just because it’s a last haven for many things – for turtles that need… Read More
2019-01-27 09:29
Hat messages me and, because the Mapuche and literature form the basis for her dissertation, she writes:
The Mapuche people of Chile value language so much that people who possess the abilit… Read More
2019-01-22 12:31
When you pick up a blog, after being away for so long, it’s like leafing through the pages of a diary you have failed to write. Blankness gazes back with dead stare. And accusing… Read More
2018-02-25 09:25
Kilimanjaro rears her snow-white head right behind where I live. She’s so close that on clear dawns or storm swept evenings that leave the sky clear of cloud and dust, I imagine… Read More
2018-01-27 08:48
Already the year is racing by.
I write. But I do not write enough. Not here. I don’t write enough here. Here in this invisible space where I can write what I want to write, how I wan… Read More
2017-11-13 19:45
So there. Moved. The house is done. I trip on snags all the time. Two days ago the water heater blew up. A hiss. And then a massive pop. Bang goes hot water. Now I bathe in a bucket, tossing… Read More
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