Oh, the exciting adventures I’ve had with books!

What you need to know:

  • Did I mention my stock of so many useless facts, much to the chagrin of my poor friends? With a book, a long dreary journey home in a cramped matatu can turn into an adventure to anywhere!

  • From the deep sea, to outer space.

  • That is why anybody who knows me would not at all be surprised when I let out a blood curdling scream whilst walking down a street, they will understand I most likely just saw a book I have been on the lookout for, or an old book being sold really cheap.

For as long as I can remember, I have always loved books. Ever since I could read, I always had my nose buried in one, first to the joy of my father, and then to his utter dismay when he realised that my love for the written word had no limit, so I basically read anything I came across.

There is no counting the number of times he found me engrossed in a book with a half-dressed damsel-in-distress, just about to be rescued by a chevalier knight (also barely dressed) on its glossy cover.

What about the many times my mother would disapprovingly watch me obliviously pour tea into her already overflowing cup, my mind probably in Timbuktu?

Now that I am a mother, I am trying my best to nurture the same passion in my son.

As I watch him eagerly turn the pages and point out familiar pictures with glee, I wish I could find words, that he would understand, to tell him how from books, I have travelled around the world, from the scorching deserts of the Sahara to the icy peaks of Antarctica. I have seen amazing things; fights between alien planets, I have climbed mountains, and voyaged to new, exotic places, all with my feet curled up on a couch.

I have fought for my home with Scarlet O’Hara, waited for a man who would never show up with Madame Bovary, been locked up in the tower of London with Queen Elizabeth, conquered city after city with Genghis khan, I have felt the empty aching void within Alexander even after gaining so much, and have found love in a proud man called Mark Darcy.

I have deserted a war to follow my heart: to get back to my Ada, I have been raised by hyenas with Shera, and shudder when I recall those awful last days of being locked up in an attic with Anne Frank.

I have had candid talks with former heads of state, movie stars, inventors  why, I have even been to heaven right there at the birth of the world and saw it as it began with the creator.

MY STOCK OF USELESS FACTS

Did I mention my stock of so many useless facts, much to the chagrin of my poor friends? With a book, a long dreary journey home in a cramped matatu can turn into an adventure to anywhere!

From the deep sea, to outer space. That is why anybody who knows me would not at all be surprised when I let out a blood curdling scream whilst walking down a street, they will understand I most likely just saw a book I have been on the lookout for, or an old book being sold really cheap.

I remember this time I found an old book of classic poems, and a particular one moved me so much, I would read it to anyone who had the misfortune of standing next to me long enough for me to get the book out of my bag. It mysteriously vanished though, and I bet many were immensely relieved.

The emptiness that follows after the end of a good book cannot be put in words, neither can trying to stifle sobs in a matatu whenever you get to a particularly sad bit and you just want to cry out, “Oh! Why?! Why?!”

Or those awkward moments when I can’t stop laughing in a bank queue after recalling something especially funny that I read.

So, too broke to go see the Indian Ocean are you? Why don’t you pick up a book and go anyway.

Seriously, ever been curious about how it feels to ski down a slope in the Alps? Pick up a book, and feel that brisk sharp wind, against your face.

My son might be too young to enjoy a good read right now, but I intend to do my best to show him all these new worlds to explore, new people to meet, and new lessons to be learnt, all between the wonderful pages of a book.