My Bizzare Collection…
No… I do not collect colourful dudus or bottle tops or price labels from various supermarkets. Come to think of it, there isn’t anything bizarre about my collection and obsession. But before I get on with it I must tell you something about colourful dudus. There is a Sikh temple in Makindu. It’s quite a landmark and anyone and everyone is welcome there either for a meal or an overnight stay. Many years ago, I had gone there with most of my family for prayers that were to last for three days so we spent a few days there and it was great fun. With us was my niece who was then about four years old and her Mum was heavily pregnant so it fell on me to baby sit her. It wasn’t really an ordeal as she was an ok kid, though could be a bit bratty at times.
Anyway, one morning her Mum gave her a bath, dressed her up and was just getting ready to go to the prayer hall when she heard a loud crunch and sounds of chewing. When she turned around, she saw this little girl with a mouth full of those dead beetles and big dudus you don’t normally see in your homes. Her mum nearly threw up and almost had a baby as she tried to pry out the collection of dudus from her daughter’s mouth. We still laugh at that to date. Then we say ewwwwww….
As usual I have digressed. Coming back to my collection, I have a thing for collecting pens. ‘Oh. Is that it?’ I hear you ask. No, that’s not it. I collect pens like they will soon be eradicated from the face of this earth. From a quill fashioned out of a big feather found in Nairobi National Park with a Bic pen’s refill stuck in it right down to some posh pens that have been gifted to me by loved ones and all sorts of Speedy and Kilometric pens in between. I have a vast collection of felt tip pens, technical drawing pens and all sorts of writing instruments. I get obsessed with the stationery section in the supermarket. Instead of picking bread, milk and basic essentials for my kids, I’m drooling over pens and picking a few to add to my vast collection.
What do I do with them? I write, of course! I jot, draw, sketch, write long letters, fill in pages in my scant journals, colour code my recipes in books, write poetry copied off something I might have found on Google and also write reminders on my wrist or palm. I may own posh gadgets with awesome reminders and calendars but if it isn’t written down in a diary or on my palm or wrist I will not remember it.
I even steal pens from people. If I see an interesting looking pen lying around and no one seems to want to take ownership, I adopt it. If someone lends me a pen and I like the way it writes, the flow of ink from the pen is just brilliant, then I make the owner give their pen a kiss and make them say goodbye to it.
Unlike my shoes, I have never counted my pens. I have pens that stopped working years ago and will probably never work again because the refill barrels have been discontinued but I keep them anyway because of sentimental value. I think many times before I throw away a pen. I still have my Hero ink pen that I used to have in primary school many years ago (yes, it was a rather long time ago, if you must know) and it still works.
I don’t know why I’m obsessed with pens. I just love to write and I love to go through my drawers that are filled with pens when I’m feeling low or down. I’m cheered up immensely when I go through my pens and start writing with them on scraps of paper.
My biggest fear is that maybe one day I will become a famous superstar (I’m also obsessed with Bollywood) and my first movie (made for OAPs seeing that I’m wayyyyy past my Use By date as a young heroine) will be a superhit and I will be at my movie premiere and when I come out of the theatre I will have scores of fans jostling for my autograph… and I won’t have a bloody pen on me.
