Apr 29, 2006

Princess Encounter

***

The end of an era dawned on me yesterday. It felt like one of those life-long journeys splitting again to different paths; but one that i was to inevitably accept as it was time. It was my manager's last day at work and although it wasn't all marshy, the times we had made it some sweetpain. Me and her had gone through some memorable times together; at times she pushed the envelope on my limits and skills and i appreciate it now that i look back at it. She had a princely way of getting things done and as a true Fulani Princess, she was bold, energetic, enigmatic and freshly jovial.

Many were the times she entered the office and it brightened the day. Many were the times she entered the office and it put all the pressure on me. Although they were times we didn't see eye to eye, for the most part of our journey together, it was all so good. We synchronised and flowed with whatever we were doing and i appreciate this blessing 'coz i know not many people get bosses like that.

Aissa was one person who i could not call boss. It was unreal, unnatural. Indeed you could feel the power and authority she possessed but she came down from that pedestal to our level, whatever it was. She had a way of carrying herself with flowing boldness that did not overshadow her playful and easy nature. And that put her a class above the rest (i totally abhorr people who demand that u bow down just because they have title larger than life). Any outsider would be forgiven thinking that she was anything but the Manager. Here was someone i could walk in and out of her office like i was going to the kitchen for coffee. Free, open and receptive.

Aissa, you're someone incredible and one i definitely treasure and greatly miss. Whatever paths that life takes you through, may they be littered with the sweet music of warmth, love, affection and gigantic achievements. And may the Almighty bring you ever closer to your dreams.

Apr 24, 2006

FlossMode

Judging by the covers


More and more of us are getting sucked into life’s drudgery and mad rush. More of us are getting the cream so that we engage others in a nonsensical opulence show. They say people who watch TV are 40% more likely pressured to acquire things that they view in adverts, sitcoms etc., so I gathered I’d be betta off watching nature and people instead; it reveals so much more. Here I am, never understood what people who floss gain out of doing so, I’d be glad if someone walked me through it. I understand if I was to help someone in need, they’d have reason to hold on to that and my heart gets contented. I understand if I was there for people I care about, they’d be there for me; that’ll strengthen our bond which is a worthwhile thing. I understand if I treat myself to some out-of-this-world Turkish delights, I’d feel ecstatic and maybe gain some few needed pounds. Now what I don’t get is how flossing to people who have never seen me and those few who know me will enhance my life in any bit. Coz they’d definitely forget it, some wouldn’t really care and worse, some will abhor me for it. I’ve thought maybe there is some gratification derived from it (the buggy-jumping kind) but that “high” is so short-lived to warrant the lengths people go through to have it. I call it the “10-seconds-of-Fame”. I understand you can live very comfortably with life’s luxuries and designer items without having to wantonly and overtly exhibiting it. So why do people do it???

Again, I guess if I was the very-ignorant-have-nothin’-betta-to-do kind, I’d be jotting this blog from an
iPAQ hw6900 in open air at Java sipping on the most expensive cappuccino they have. I’d be holding it up so that the others around me get to see it. Did I mention I’ll have the new Motorola V3 Razr mobile phone along with the day’s London Financial Times of course all sprawled on the coffee table along with the keys to the LR3? Although it would cost me some spare change for the coffee, I’d pay using my VISA Goldcard, perhaps the Prestige Barclaycard and quit it just after a few sips, walk into the LR3, take time to close the doors so that people absorb it’s white leather seats and space-age looking interior (mind you like the one I have at home) and switch on the Pioneer entertainment centre. I’ll turn the volume to like 75 so the outsidaz recognize I had the sound installed for them. Forget about my ears, this is the price am willing to pay to make someone who hardly knows me turn for a measly 2 seconds and look. Even if they know me, I highly doubt they’re aspiring to become deaf themselves. I’d make sure every place I pass lingered with the scent of Givenchy Pi lingering on for minutes after I’ve gone. Those who seem a bit interested to know what that heavenly scent is, I’d quip its price, not its name. I’d let my real-conflict-diamond-studded Cartier Roadstar Chronograph dangle on my wrist. Forget about the weight and the number of people who died to have it on me, this is the price of bling-blinging. I’ll excuse anyone who thought I bought it for the time. The price is just under $9,000, quite reasonable for a watch, wouldn’t you say?

Thinking about this reminds me of the story about a guy who dressed up on all the expensive and trendiest apparel yet was content to go hungry at home. Talk about twisted priorities! I think floss is such a gross loss, have to toss it. Keeping it simple and stupid seems much closer to the reality of my kinda things.

Apr 21, 2006

Eight Cow Wife

A Parable by Patricia McGerr


When I sailed to Kiniwata, an island in the Pacific, I took along a notebook. After I got back it was filled with descriptions of flora and fauna, native customs and costume. But the only note that still interests me is the one that says: "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows to Sarita’s father." And I don’t need to have it in writing. I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittling her husband or a wife withering under her husband’s scorn. I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for his wife." Johnny Lingo wasn’t exactly his name. But that’s what Shenkin, the manager of the guest house on Kiniwata, called him. Shenkin was from Chicago and had a habit of Americanizing the names of the islanders. But Johnny was mentioned by many people in many connections. If I wanted to spend a few days on the neighboring island of Nurabandi, Johnny Lingo would put me up. If I wanted to fish he could show me where the biting was best. If it was pearls I sought, he would bring the best buys. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet when they spoke they smiled, and the smiles were slightly mocking. "Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin. "Johnny knows how to make a deal." "Johnny Lingo! A boy seated nearby hooted the name and rocked with laughter. "What goes on?" I demanded. "everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then breaks up. Let me in on the joke." "Oh, the people like to laugh," Shenkin said, shruggingly. "Johnny's the brightest, the strongest young man in the islands, And for his age, the richest." "But if he’s all you say, what is there to laugh about?" "Only one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He paid her father eight cows! I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. Two or three cows would buy a fair-to-middling wife, four or five a highly satisfactory one. "Good Lord!" I said, "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away." "She’s not ugly," he conceded, and smiled a little. "But the kindest could only call Sarita plain. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid she’d be left on his hands." "But then he got eight cows for her? Isn’t that extraordinary?" "Never been paid before." "Yet you call Johnny’s wife plain?" "I said it would be kindness to call her plain. She was skinny. She walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow." "Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love." "True enough," agreed the man. "And that’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact that the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo." "But how?" "No one knows and everyone wonders. All the cousins were urging Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny’d pay only one. Then Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’" "Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo." "And I wanted fish. I wanted pearls. So the next afternoon I beached my boat at Nurabandi.
And I noticed as I asked directions to Johnny’s house that his name brought no sly smile to the lips of his fellow Nurabandians. And when I met the slim, serious young man, when he welcomed me with grace to his home, I was glad that from his own people he had respect unmingled with mockery. We sat in his house and talked. Then he asked, "You come here from Kiniwata?" "Yes." "They speak of me on that island?" "They say there’s nothing I might want they you can’t help me get." He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata." "Yes, I know." "They speak of her?" "A little." "What do they say?" "Why, just..." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time." "Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more. They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused. "They wonder why." "They ask that?" His eyes lightened with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?" I nodded. "And in Nurabandi everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita." So that’s the answer, I thought: vanity. And then I saw her. I watched her enter the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still a moment to smile at the young man beside me. Then she went swiftly out again. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin the sparkle of her eyes all spelled a pride to which no one could deny her the right. I turned back to Johnny Lingo and found him looking at me. "You admire her?" he murmured. "She...she’s glorious. But she’s not Sarita from Kiniwata," I said. "There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps she does not look the way they say she looked in Kiniwata." "She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo." "You think eight cows were too many?" A smile slid over his lips. "No. But how can she be so different?" "Do you ever think," he asked, "what it must mean to a woman to know that her husband has settled on the lowest price for which she can be bought? And then later, when the women talk, they boast of what their husbands paid for them. One says four cows, another maybe six. How does she feel, the woman who was sold for one or two?" This could not happen to my Sarita." "Then you did this just to make your wife happy?" "I wanted Sarita to be happy, yes. But I wanted more than that. You say she is different This is true. Many things can change a woman. Things that happen inside, things that happen outside. But the thing that matters most is what she thinks about herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. Now she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands."
"Then you wanted -" "I wanted to marry Sarita. I loved her and no other woman." "But —" I was close to understanding. "But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

Apr 20, 2006

Desidarata, the Past & Now

A long wey coming and still rollin'!


Thanks to tati, jana I stumbled upon graduates.com and as I perused over lines and miles of names, checking out familiar peeps I know from primary, high school, colle and uni, it dawned on me juz how much of life happened to us! Scores of them are abroad working, studying, doing their thing, living it up, some came back home to roost while others never left but they still done great. Going through the summaries of what everyone has been up to in the last 10 or so years made me proud, envious, encouraged, amused and impressed. My hustling-days right-hand guy Chris is up in Netherlands doing his studies & reggae thing. My boy Sassen went on to become a biochemist (finally your chem skills at work!), Ivan got two kids (imagine that), Laura’s in the UK (kept wondering where you dropped off the face of this solar system) and so ran the script on and on. The myriad of feelings I got while browsing these patches of my past reminded me of Max Ehrmann’s poem “Desidarata”. It used to hang on my uncle’s wall when I was growing up so I systematically memorized it. A little reflection and I think I internalized a lot out of it to live up to its very character. Part of the poem went thus:

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

I took the better part to mean if you compared yourself with others, they’ll always be someone better than you, so aim higher! And if that someone is worse off than you, be grateful. So here I was reading about people I hardly ever saw again after our last exam papers. Leonid, my primo buddy – that foto of urs and Ebal took me wey back!!! How life drifted us on such diverse paths am still trying to comprehend. Lilian, would you believe it, Lilian Geturo? Tati, I know why you’re missing in action. Louise Massawa, the Capo de capo of geniuses. All in all, I must say, this was one marvelous trip down memory lane. Am glad for those who are living their dreams. Am glad for those building their dreams. Am glad for those drafting their dreams. Am glad for those dreaming about their dreams. 2Pac said “Reality is wrong, dreams are for real”.

Am still scouring these webpages trying to reconnect with memories; there’s a certain high you get when you see the face of someone you haven’t seen in years albeit juz a mention of their name. Am busy reconstructing our classrooms in my mind, asking myself whatever happened to so and so; where on planet earth could they be holed up? What are they up to and howz lyf fairing wit them? Something I must admit though, what graduates.com does is something worthwhile. If I was to give bouquets for best functional website, all props go to them! Simple idea, very energetic effect.

For me, these 10yrs have seemed eternal. I’ve done Thangs!!! Been there, done that! Played the minor league, got bored, went on to the Major League, got it all played out. Now frantically searching for the next high…. I think marriage comes close! I remember we used to joke what it would be lyk 10yrs from then. It is past 10yrs already, look at all the @#$%^&! we’ve been through and we still facing the skies saying “It’s alright, praise God we are here!!” Lookin’ at the next ten am thinking, damn, funny how time flies, the key is being grateful for every bit of it, at that time. And God granting, am Keepin’ My Head Up for the next 10, 20, 30 mmmmmmmh …….!

Apr 19, 2006

Alpenglow

Inspired by Amina Darani

Alpenglow is an optical phenomenon. The name is derived from the German word "Alpenglühen" combing "alps" and "glow". When the Sun sets in the west, a horizontal red glowing band can sometimes be observed in the east. In mountainous areas such as the Alps, this can be caused by snow, moisture, and ice on mountain sides which receive the scattered red light from the setting Sun. Sometimes this rosy effect is observed in other non-mountainous areas. Once in a whilem i've seen it coming from Mombasa on the Kenyan coast and it's a sight worthy of visualising. I've done 2 graphic pieces on it - juz couldn't help myself.


Since i've juz come from taita hills, i think i'll coin a new word for the glow that comes from those majestic hills..........

Apr 11, 2006

mazalicias!

Some gem at the coast


Blogging from Mombasa feels differently nice. There's the heavy sting of salty ocean water all around me, the breeze caressing my face and the hot, hot sun kissing my skin. It's nothing like the coldness of nairobi..... and its inhabitants. Mombasa is warm, jovial, lively, human, exotic. It's a place that a stranger easily feels at home. At least i do whenever i come. But this time round, i not only caught the sun, the fun, the sand and the surf. I caught me a rare splendid foto opp. Alicia Keys!!

Yes, she's in mombasa for her
project she's doing for children struggling with Aids. And so being a proper die-hard fan(atic), my digicam was ready, my smile as always ever-ready and she was game for the shoot. CO, don't you wish u could have tagged along?! Am going to find this picture some golden artistic frame and hang it right in front of my home's entrance!! Talk about celeb status... You betta blv it HA and SS, she even gave me something else i can't put online!!

Apart from this really rare treat which left me not wanting to ever get back to nai (which happens every time am here), i get to sit in front of this endless sparkling blue ocean watching birds (sic) and the waves rising and falling. I amusingly study people strutting up and down the shore, littered with .......... aaah, many things. The beach football is amazing and the sip of tamarind juice feels blissful.

Ok, the giantiest of waves is coming, gotta catch it. Laterzzz!!!

Apr 10, 2006

Wanna Ride?

Mamis & Cars

There must be something inherent in women about cars. i think just like some men are overly protective of their rides, mamis are attracted to mobility. i have no idea why. Initial thoughts are it provides freedom, easens hustling around, is viewed to be somewhat safe and not to mention social status. My buddy Guy had a thing against stratified societies - to him (and i partly agree), this is just an illusion. Some opium for the masses to entice them. That's the same way i view this "thing" about mamis with cars. i doubt if its a peculiar thing in kenya only or elsewhere. Here mo and mo chicks value guys simply coz they have rides. Forget about the S320 Mercs, the Z3 BMW or the supped up Bentleys, just park your beat-down beetle across their way and you got game! And there's no shame, even though your lyrics may be so so lame. Whatever happened to falling in love with a jamaa with a KBS bus-pass???

Was trying to think what motivates some ladies to hang out taking endless rounds in ma3's, kukatiwa na the prospect of "free" rides. What possibly could blind them to the fact that the ride isn't after all "free". Some things confound me; i've found no lady to explain this ride's attraction to me. I guess some do it for the music..... like they have no tenjes at home. Some apparently do it to be seen to be "with-it" so they'd go for the bling-blinging manyangaz that juz came out. I simply do it for the art and grafitti in them - it's amazing things u can read (and learn) from stickers on a trip from eastleigh to tao.

In my rumblings and after watching 2 Fast, 2 Furious, XXX, XXX2 and of coz The Love Bug (Herbie), i've safely concluded the biggest motivation is speed. Hot, raw adrenalin. Jijazie the rest.........

Apr 9, 2006

Creative Expression

For the skeptics and the far-right-realists!!

Ok, so i write a story like "Dream come true" and some people believe it happened to me. Just a clarification for buddies like Mr. Softcity, it did not happen to me. True, am not about to deny that i've never been whipped in "love", but that doesn't necessarily mean every thought, every graphic i output is a result of that. I take my hue from very many different (some somewhat crazy) influences. So there you have it - don't believe everything i say.

It's something called creative expression, you know kinda like the ones Dan Brown does and he make millions out of. In English it's called Fiction.

Apr 7, 2006

TGIF2

Thank God it's Friday!


Dear Almighty God, it's me again. All praise is due to you, the Grand Designer; whose words would never end even if all the Earth's oceans were ink, and all its trees were pens to write Your words with.

Today am thankful to you for the rain, washes away our woes, our tears, cleansing us in more ways than we realise. Thanks for sending it now, it couldn't have come at a better time. Even though i'll get rained on, be wet and cold, i'll prefer the thought of this blessing instead of grumbling. Thanks.

Your ever grateful servant, Maza.

Apr 6, 2006

Little Things Revisited


A walk while its drizzling, the tick and tock of the clock adding days to your age, the dew on a rose petal, the nostalgic odor of earth before it rains, the piercing stare of a baby’s eyes almost probing you, taking’ time to ask someone you care about to share with you their world, thoughts, feelings, happenings, troubles, being patient with grandma when she goes on and on about the same topic, taking’ an evening breather in fresh air, star-gazing once in awhile winking to the moon, watching’ falling stars, falling leaves effortlessly floating to the ground, the clenching of your finger by a baby’s entire hand, accepting you’re wrong when you are, accepting others when they are wrong, gladly making lemonade when God gives you lemon, taking sips of the pure wine life pours, not minding you’ve been served in a dirty cup (Rumi), arranging whatever pieces come your way (Virginia Woolf), loving the hue of skin of different people you come across, sit in the dark light a candle and marvel at its dancing flame, keep aflame the inner candle in you to light your way when times get thick, sharing that light with others who need it, listening to birds singing in the middle of traffic noise, loving 100% for there’s no regret than that of not to have loved completely, telling the person you love that you do, and how much, in case tomorrow never comes, they’d know how you felt, relishing roasted maize-cob on your way home, walking the ocean shore picking butterfly seashells, leaving behind random thoughts on your blog, give from the heart regardless of whom you give it to, extend your hand to someone show them you understand, be excited about other’s passions, dreams and endeavors, listen even if you don’t say anything, say hi with a smile, smile when you pick up the phone.

Little things mean a lot, appreciate what you have (
boyz II men).

Apr 5, 2006

We're On Fire


The fire dwindles sometimes, we have to rekindle it, fight for it if it’s truly worth it. That’s what I once told someone i cared about; the passion of something fades and the intensity falls. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be like that for good, it’s a season. A season that will pass and we’ll be on fire again, relit and as bright as ever. Like a wavy ocean, life isn't always smooth. Neither is it a bed of roses. Life is dialectic, if you wanna live life like it ain't, you're in for a rude shock - no pun intended. They'll be ups and downs, highs and lows. When am down, i'll let the memories of when i was high carry me through. When am up, i'll let reminders of what it is to be low regulate me. I once saw a disadvantaged man crawling on his knees because he could not walk and I questioned myself what if I was that man. That image of him, down there, hustling, while I was up, all ok, will not leave my ken. We got a lot to be thankful for but I guess we fall short in seeing the blessings we get. For me, love fades so that we can replenish it. The earth dies so that the rain may restore it to life. Hope passes away so that we may discover our inner callings. The fire diminishes so that we have a chance to refuel it.

We’re On Fire

Rise from the ashes of yore
Raise the phoenix within you, bring it to the fore
Ignite our dreams and aspirations
To burst aflame our innermost visions
Another year in a new dawned day
Something intrinsic tells me to profoundly pray
Give thanks for a chance to embrace this day

Fuel the appreciation of life’s essential gifts
Feel the elevation that such realization lifts
Search for that vocation that is yours and is definite
And let these dreams and aspirations ignite
For new days call for new ways
Against the mighty waves that make your soul sway
Grab and flare a supernova from this single ray

We’re on fire today
Like the strength of our forefather’s flints yesterday
Fierce against wind and darkness
Lightning the ways of our days.


w. 3.01.06
Copyright 2006 Under the Baobab collection

Apr 1, 2006

Another Dream Come True

if you continue dreaming about it hard enuff, it'll happen. Again.


I had been here before. The entire place looked familiar, even somewhat nostalgic. I almost knew where every little thing was. The fireplace glowed with an orange flair, the wood splintering sparks over the iron wrought edge. It was inviting, a sharp contrast to the heavy rain that was falling outside. “Mr. Too Damn Good” by Levert was playing on the background. It used to be my anthem to her. I walked over to the fireplace and stretched out my cold hands to get some warmth. As my vision blended with the fiery centre of the red hot wood my thoughts drifted to the last time I saw her.

We had had our fair share of relationship dramas together and just when I thought we had overcome the storm, she opted for an exit. Out of the blue just like she disappeared, she resurfaced two weeks ago and called me asking if we could have a chance to meet. Her voice across the phone line still lingered on my mind; “I need to see you, we need to talk.” After the call, my heart anticipated so much, I could hardly wait for our meet.

Now I was here, finally about to reconcile with her. I could feel the anxiety pulsate in me, so I tried to take long slow breaths remembering my Dojo Kun lessons. The third pillar of this martial art was to foster an endeavoring spirit, something that you had to perfect before you had a go at the other four pillars. My sight caught her framed picture as an innocent little girl which was rather disparate from the fact that she had taken me through hell and back. I was about to reach and take a close look when she entered the room.

Time stood still. I could swear it felt like the first time I saw her. She wore a white flamenco dress that flowed elegantly with her dainty steps, the pink and orange kikoi draped round her neck bringing out the grace of her face. She had not changed much over almost the one year since I saw her last; in fact she looked more beautiful now. Deep down my anxiety dropped, replaced by a burning hope of getting her back. To call her mine, to forget the past, tugange yajayo, finally. She walked up to me and we exchanged a hug that I sought to last forever. It felt like it was all worth it after all, the wait, the agony, the disappointments. In that short moment, all these disappeared. It was a new beginning.

We sat next to the fireplace, drinking from the same mugs branded “coffee” that she said she bought because they reminded her of me. She had that silent disposition in her that I fretted. I fretted it because she always had this calm before she brought on the storm. This time, I brushed it off knowing she needed to recollect after so long a period. As she began speaking, her voice was flawless and eloquent.

She begged I forgive her for taking off without letting me know. Said she was confused and that was the only option that she saw back then. Said how hard it was for her to forget about me, about us and what we shared. Her words were music to my ears, comfort to my soul. She said “All that time we were apart, I knew I still loved you and nothing I did could shake it off. I promised myself that I had to get back with you and try to make it work. Deep in me I knew we could achieve it if we both changed for the better those things we disagreed on”. By now, I was in full agreement with her, she could tell so by the nodding of my head as I keenly listened to her. I could have interjected to tell her that I felt the same but I didn’t. Knowing her, I preferred to let her finish her trail of thoughts. I listened coz in all my dreams since we separated, I knew if it came to this day, I’d rather listen than talk. I listened coz the joy I got from her narration couldn’t compare to that I could get from mine.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here with you, just like the old times. Anyway, I battled with my feelings for you for long and finally made a decision and that's what i called you for. I know it’s not going to be easy for you but there’ll be a lot of changes. I have faith we’ll both go through this. Am sorry I put you through a lot but this time I wanted to let you know myself, not you to hear it from elsewhere, I didn’t want it to happen any other way”. Every syllable that I heard was laced with love, concern and affirmation. This dream I had replayed over and over gain was coming to reality. I could feel a tear building up and although they say a man ain’t supposed to cry, I really didn’t care. I had waited too long for this so it was worth me crying for.

Then she brought forward the square cream envelope that she had kept beside her all through the conversation. It was pretty with a golden flowery border round it. My anticipation shot up trying to guess what she had in that envelope. An apology card, a love card, maybe a letter explaining everything?

She held it in her hand for a few seconds gazing intently at it as if wondering whether to give it or not. To reduce my anxiety, I took sips of the now nearly cold coffee, the irony of it driven home as I drank it; the coffee would actually aggravate the anxiety than calm it.

Then with finality in her eyes, she handed it over to me saying, “Well, here we go then, that’s my wedding card – I am getting married!”. The coffee mug slipped out of my hands, knocked the majestic glass table on its way down cracking it from end to end, then with a near deafening thud, hit the ceramic floor coming apart in endless shattered pieces. My heart did the same.