I loosely read in American novels or have managed to overhear in those imported trashy/classy shows of things like caffeinated, decaffeinated coffee…or something close to that.

See, i grew up in a coffee plantation and not until i got to the big city did i take my first cup of coffee. Until then, i always thought that mama’s tea was the best thing that happened to my life. For this, i really wondered what really happens to the bags and bags of coffee berries that we transported to a local factory.  For starters, the coffee farm was owned by grandpa, those days when he was still supple and…quite energetic…now he can’t tell the difference between my and my American cousin.

During the harvest season, after we transported the heavy bags (using a rickety wheelbarrow) he would drop a few coins onto my hand and i was to distribute them to my 0ther cousins. With all their wisdom, they bought balloons, biscuits and goody goody.

I preferred Kimuhu’s  hot soup served in a chirped mabati , half-boflo broad…in some shack with houseflies buzzing about and several tough talking old geezers that i found quite interesting. Once their balloons had blown up and they were left with sugary mouths and sticky lips (and a future dentist appointment )…i was ‘full’ (kushiba), and armed with few sage phrases that would send my peers laughing.

Days before this, was the coffee-picking experience, which was the most grueling of this process. Your hands had to mechanically pick out the ripe berries leaving out the green ones, and put them in a tin..for further sorting out. I think i was about 9 when i decide to climb the coffee tree. Grandpa and dad were around too when i came down with a whole branch…never will forget the look on their eyes… as they probably thought: Does this kid have something wrong with his head?

I also once ate the enticing red ripe berries and the end result was not much to talk about either…

Oh. This was also the place where many a village girls had their panties knicked- if they wore any, that is :)

De-caffeinated thoughts

In myself, i have two kinds of school of thoughts: Weeded and Non-weeded. And there, the sorting them out begin. Thoughts come with them the birth mark that betrays their breeding ground. An apple never falls far from the tree-but Sir New Toad- what does ‘far’ mean to you? Would you still say the same if an apple fell from the tree and rolled down a cliff?

I’m going this stages in my days when i think about thinking…and i’m arriving at strange conclusions. Once i have something definite, like knowing exactly which coffee is which…i shall come out here, clearly.

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