The Struggle Is Real

It’s a Friday evening and fate decides that its time you bump into some of your college mates somewhere in upper hill. They are doing good judging by their demeanor and overall appearance. They have on sir Henrys suits, Tom Ford shoes and ties from Italy- Wall Street kind of dressing. Classic men if you ask me. You cuss your god for allowing such a thing to happen at a time when your shoes are so dusty and have taken another angle with the acrid smell of sweat emanating from the depths of your body notwithstanding. You could have used some deodorant in the morning had it not been so scarce that you spare for ‘special’ occasions.

They drag you to a fancy upmarket eatery and offer to shoulder the bills because you look somewhat disturbed and disillusioned by their presence and your surroundings. The look on your face is now into a thousand shades of unreadable emotions. You chose the cheapest meal, that which you can pronounce right. You don’t want any more embarrassment any way.

They talk of big meetings and projects they are currently pursing. Most of them have businesses and are entrepreneurs as they call themselves these days. You don’t have anything to say so you just sit there taking in notes like some kind of P.A. it’s not your type of conversation any way. You only thrive in discussions that involve mama mboga escapades, the latest chang’aa dens or tricks to ace boda boda trade.

They get engrossed in their conversation over the ever rising stock exchange rates and the trips they can’t wait to take come December. You just sit there consuming space and oxygen not relating to anything they say. Once in a while one of them looks at your to get your opinion and suck you into the discussion but soon forgets your existence and again get sucked in on a topic on the current war in Syria and how Kenya is without doubt turning into Greece. You don’t have much to say and excuse yourself to visit the wash rooms.  You wonder what they think of you and your lack of knowledge on the current status coo. While at it in the loo, you give yourself a couple of chest thumps to reassure yourself that you are still the ‘it’ man, but there is a tiny voice deep within that says otherwise.

You return to the table only to find one of them discussing how he is about to propose to a girl with a budget spiraling to the environs of two million Kenyan shillings and over. You transition into a daze as you calculate what that amount could do to you and your entire clan; it could buy vaccine for your favorite cow Zawadi that gave birth last week , buy your old lady some fertilizer for her maize farm and your house would have the luxury of donning some seats. It could spin your life around in the blink of an eye to say the least. You have no girlfriend so you also device a tact to woe one. These Nairobi girls are difficult. They want someone who’s got something in the bank, you mumble to yourself.  That’s when it hits you that the only account you got is an M-Pesa account and that is because it’s free to open. You also can’t remember the last time you received or sent any cash.

They suggest visiting the club to unwind and know you can’t deny because you are just 27 and if they remember right you were one of the party freaks back in the day; which is not so long ago. You hastily oblige but walk behind them like their bodyguard to the preferred location. In that uptown club, music is blaring from humongous speakers as sweet smelling, well-endowed women and girls dance to the rhythm of turn down for what by Dj Snake ft. Lil Jon. The only thing you can do is fantasize about an encounter with one of them. You are too broke to fall in love anyway.  You are roared back to life when two of your ‘friends’ suggest buying a round for everyone and then everyone has to sort their bill afterwards. You sit there and wonder what on earth pulled you in. In your pockets there is just enough to get you back to your almost empty house in the heart of Kariobangi. It’s also getting rather late, so you hope the bus fare won’t be hiked. You utter profanities hoping your assailants *read tout* would do no such thing. That fact leads you into hoping that some hood rats don’t decide to wipe your house clean.

They suggest you take pictures for some memories but the state of your Huawei ideos does not think so. The scratches and bruises it has can’t be displayed to the elite public in your company at the moment. In the first selfie, you look so lost and without doubt the odd one out so you opt to be the ‘camera man’ insisting that the photos would look better since you are an “experienced” photographer.

It’s time to leave, you bid each other farewell and exchange rather incomprehensible pleasantries as everyone other than you hope into four wheelers and roar them to life as they take off to their respective destinations. Your face remains glued to the ground and hands in your pocket as you trace your way to the bus stop somewhere in downtown. You walk without looking back; the way a man does after urinating by the road side.

On the Fence.

Will it get any better?

Campus hostels had been my home for the past three years or so. The news and fact that I was about to clear school and subsequently leave for the unknown was met by a set of mixed reactions. It meant that I was finally going to apply the knowledge I had acquired and probably earn a decent salary from it, but it also meant no more pocket money, free swimming pool sessions, regular food at the school cafeteria, random escaped out of school and happy hour moments; chicken wings and cake were and still are my favorite. I know you are wondering why class work is evidently missing from my list, who likes classes anyway?

“mkimaliza shule, msikuje kwangu tuanze kushindania choo…” that’s what mum always said. It simply meant home was out of bounds for over eighteens. She emphasized the fact that over eighteens were only allowed to “visit” her home. So, I had two options; find a housemate somewhere and apply some business in terms of cost sharing or board “msamaria mwema” and head over to the village I was harvested from. The later notwithstanding, I choose the former.

The frantic search for a roof over my head found me at the doors of Mathew; Jason’s elder brother. Jason was and still is my partner in crime, my confidant, he knows me like the back of his hands (call it friend-zone level 100). He is a cool guy but way too cocky for my liking. I lost count of the number of times we were sent out of class for laughing, chatting or lack of concentration altogether.( other outrageous sins intentionally left out).If I ever get arrested or go to jail this nigga will sure be behind it. Being the darling that he is, upon hearing my story he was more than willing to help me out, so he hooked me up with his ever grumpy but cute brother.

It took a lot of effort to convince him that my stay at his place wouldn’t result into any casualties.

“Any friend to Jason is a disaster” he kept repeating.

His sentiments were 70 percent true but I was too desperate to back off. The thought of being relegated back to the village dint help either. He miraculously accepted to house me but not without a set of ridiculous rules and regulation I was supposed to adhere to. He insisted that the toilet seat was to be left up at all times, no telly past eleven among other outrageous things.  This one is something else I tell you.

Days slowly matured into days with nothing eventful happening. We lived like stranger. No talking, just HI’s and byes. Not that am not attractive but hey!! He hasn’t made any advances, which is unlike most men his age. I have to do something soon jeez, singlehood is way to boring.

Lakini God has a way of testing people ptho!!.

So this morning I woke up unusually early and carried my lazy bones over to the kitchen to kill my hang over from last night’s party at Jason’s place. It was pin drop quite for a Saturday morning. By now Mr. Nicks kids are usually out in the porch playing and making the most noise they can. Thank God for this quietness though. They would have made my headache worse anyway.

Seated on the kitchen island flashing back to yester night event and enjoying my cup of coffee, a seemingly well-built object decided to block my view; it was Mathew. The morning sun rays literally illuminated his body highlighting his best features, from his angled jaw, to his strong tattooed arms , to his perfectly chiseled cheekbones and dimpled cheeks ( auwww, how cute).He wore nothing but some old gym shorts that fell just below his hip showing a thin trail of hair that disappeared down his groin. I imagined his lips on my boobs, cheeks, neck, lips; my entire body in totality.  Apparently today is when I noticed all this features on him. Was I falling for him? Was he trying to play mind games on me?

“God damn it” I whispered in my breath but he was able to catch it.

He looked up, smiled and pulled his shorts back up. You should have seen the embarrassed expression on my face when his gaze met mine. It was worth the look anyway.

By now, my lady parts had been reacting in the same tingly sensation as that at Jason’s place when he near enough had me tucked under his arms; I leaned into him without realizing it. The more I stared at him, the more I thought of some hot and steamy tongue hockey.

“Did you make anything for us Bree?” he said.

His voice had never been so romantic until now. This boy had given me something addictive. How comes I had never seen this other side of him?

“mmmhhh” that’s all that came out of my mouth.

He looked at me smiled and walked back to his room.

“Damn it Bree, you really need to get laid” I made a mental note.

Just Rants

So that day you gave him some cash and almost immediately work sprung up in Nairobi and he had to go. The next thing you saw, was him hanging out in KFC!!, KFC for crying out loud. Come on darling ‘broke’ people go to Altona not some fancy up market eatery. Oh wait, point of correction, broke people go to mama Atieno’s food kiosk, Altona is way too expensive. The worst part of it is when he came back narrating to you how his date with that other girl went. Coming to think of it, has he even taken you on an actual date?

Has he ever asked you how your day was? Can he even call? Or what he does is just send you some “please call me’s” and you smile sheepishly as you dial his number. Does he know your middle name, your fears, your strengths, weaknesses, ambitions and what note? Is he aware that cancer scared you out of your skin last month? Has he seen the pain in your eyes the past few days or what he does is just drown you  in himself, himself and more of himself? Is he even your friend in the first place? Just because he manages to steal some ‘babe “this “babe “that doesn’t mean anything to him. It’s just a word anyway.

He has no respect for you in the sense that he picks phone calls, answers text messages and visits social sites when you are around him. He does so without excusing himself; the last time I checked, phones were meant for our convenience not the person on the other end, unless you were a Gyna or a fire man. Which, clearly he is not. So you think he’ll fall for you just because you bail him out. Mmmhh Babe, it doesn’t work like that. Just because you take his shit, doesn’t mean he will do the same for you sweetheart. He will just suck the life out of you.

His talk is all so mixed up. This guy is a scum.  He is not so straight with you.  Today he says he wants to get ‘serious’ with you and the next day he says the only thing he wants is a fuck mate; little girl , have you been reduced to that? (The way I know you, I know it hurt so bad; He threw daggers at you but somehow you still entertain him.) You claim to cling on him because you think he has gorgeous eyes and a cute smile, but I know it’s because you are afraid of losing him and going back to the drawing board means that you have to start another perilous journey towards this thing called ‘love’. I don’t understand how your heart works jeez.

For a while you dint considered yourself worthy, then he came in and showed interest somehow. You are afraid of being left alone, but if you ask me, you are dating yourself. So accept and move on sweety. Ooh, need I remind you how you spent the last 20 something years just to find yourself? don’t waste any more time just to learn to understand and accommodate anyone else. The past few months have seen you change for him, you have been playing different roles and lost yourself in the process.( I don’t understand you anymore.) Do you have to lose your mind –again so you can find yourself?

Don’t close your heart too soon too. God is testing your patience, after all he doesn’t give us more than we can handle; he knows you are up to the challenge. But if you ask me sweetheart, just move one. Something’s are just not worth the wait. The world is a big place, you will just find another homo sapien who will love and treat you as per your worth.

Ooh, before I forget, Yester night I saw him with another girl, they were all over the place.  He told you he would be working late, dint he? Ooh and he had all this cash and was making it rain. Did he also tell you he was broke and asked for some kind of soft loan? Now you know darling. He has dragged you into the mud but you still can’t see it. Wake up and smell the coffee.

But, don’t you worry darling. He will re-live his mistakes wake up from limbo and discover that he lost a gem while scratching garbage.

Go where you are celebrated not tolerated

No title

bunch of roses

Once all she did was turn up, turn up and more turn up in skimpy outfits to attract men. Time slowly changed. She gradually knew her worth and learnt to value herself as such. She decided to let go of all her mistakes, fake relationships and embraced a new her. She had been betrayed before and now understands the value of true friendship all too well. Long gone were the days when she would cross rivers and lakes just to make people happy, now all that matters is what makes her happy. Her happiness is no longer hinged on others. Her small circle of friends meet up once in a while to enjoy some wine and quality time away from this little “girls” and their drama.

She decided to stop following men and focused on things dear to her. She loved a good book, a book that grew and improved her. Working for her money and getting credit for work done was an uphill task in a prejudiced world, but she did so to maintain her dignity. She earned it so no one said they gave her shit. She turned to God and built a relationship with him, she dedicates all her endeavors to him; literally.

She understood that her house needs to be a home and her entire lifestyle had to change. She learnt some housekeeping skills and her house is ever spick and span. She got into the kitchen and learnt to whip up tasty meals. She knew the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach. Besides, there is nothing satisfying like a well cooked meal. It simply means the cook had you in their thoughts.

Time came when she got married and had kids. They become her number one priority; she struggled to make sure they got the best out of life. She knows that once in this life time she will reap where she sowed and if she doesn’t manage to get that far then at least she will rest in peace knowing that she made them self-sufficient. She appreciates the Sunday family lunches and holds them dear to her heart, she knows they are all so important and every moment she gets to spend with her family is worth every dime. She cannot bare the fact of losing either her children or her marriage.

Even though her life is a circus, Saturday is the day she visits the salon, she makes her hair, face and nails. She knows that first impressions are so important and she has to look the part at all times. She does it not to please anyone but herself. There is no excuse for not looking nice.

She had to juggle between her job, the kids, the house and her husband who was basically another child. Every evening she helped them with their homework; she knew they would become great people even though they were “illiterate”. They turned her into a zookeeper and she lost it at times. She reminded herself that it was not that serious and had to keep her cool and maintain her smile even though it was evident that she is was not doing fine.  After all motherhood is a full time job with no procedure.

She cried when her children grew old and got out of home. She had been playing and praying with them for long time and had since looped them into her life.  It was hard for her to let go. She still hopes for the best for them nonetheless.

Her final league was when she held her grandchildren and told those stories about the hare and the hyena. She had lived and God had been gracious enough to give her the grace to live for many years past seventy. Her hair was greyed and she had so much knowledge and information to pass down to the rest of her generation. This woman had seen the world. There is nothing she had not done; she knew the good, the bad and the extent they could get.

She had lived.

Smell of love

Dear Rough Ride,

From the first time I met you; steel boots, khaki pants and a stripped muscle-shirt, I knew it was going to be one bumpy ride. I would lie if I said I dint love your eyes and that deep voice.  You made me a wrecking ball at full speed. I was already hooked. I still remember the random things we talked about, from politics all the way to the weather. For a moment it dint feel like an interrogation like most first dates.

However, I could note how careful you were with your words; you were hiding something from me. I want to build a relationship based on trust and honesty but in some way you couldn’t let me. I could see in your eyes as you said and thought of how low and sub-standard I was for you. I have so much to worry about and this is not going to be one of them. I’ve been through that road and am not going to take it one more time, not in a billion years.

I’m just a simple girl, full of my own insecurities. I have more problems than solutions. I have lived, loved, lost and learnt. I can’t love someone else. Yes, I first must learn to love and appreciate myself then someone else can come into the picture. But that is beside the fact that you tagged along with you so much drama, I wouldn’t want to be part of. I want to start all over again but not in that way. I’d pass for being too desperate.

I could see you didn’t want to associate in broad daylight with me, you denied my existence but I can’t blame you; I don’t dress like city girls the way you like, I don’t come from an affluent family and a Luhya accent is so pronounced in my speech, but I’m just me. The perks of life are all so different and difficult to understand. All this and much more broke my heart and I have been hitting the punching bag way beyond my capacity and now am bleeding. They say physical pain replaces emotional pain. That’s pure bullshit. I fell both, all so raw and define.

That day I wasn’t strong enough, so I let myself get overpowered by overflowing emotions. I can without doubt report that that was lust and not love. We were to catch a movie but ended in one ourselves. I can’t feel the resonance in spirit between both of us, no attachment. It was just a fling. It soon died and faded the same way it came. I would wish to erase all the happenings but now that I can’t, I pray that my subjects don’t have to follow the path I took. I want to curse the day I met you, I want to forget everything, but I just can’t. If I could change something then this would be it.

I loved you with every piece of me and that’s why it feels emptier than ever before. Meanwhile, I feel as useless as a white crayon; I hope I find someone who prefers black paper. I pray you find what you are looking for too.  So I’ll just leave it here and mind my own business. My bird is stuck somewhere in the storm and will soon come home to roost. It’s sad that my kind have to live a painful dreary life, but I’ll just accept and move on.

Time is the only way that makes us strong, it’s the only thing that will transform us into the people we want to be. I hope you find the time to heal. If you are reading this then it’s not too late.

My life was going on so well until you showed up and the grave closed down.

Signed: Yours Trully

Twisted in the wind

“Given a chance would he still be my father?”  My little boy clasped my hand. He was on his hospital bed down with pneumonia. His body was so pale and he looked almost lifeless. The past week had seen us out in the cold with nothing to neither eat nor cover ourselves up. I looked at him and my eyes squishy swelled with tears. He was a little boy and I did not want to lie to him neither did I want to keep the truth away from him. We had come a long way and this was not the point to ruin our relationship.

His father was my high school sweetheart. He impregnated me right after college admission. My dad being thunder did not want to hear anything about it. Someone had to be blamed and Mum had to take his entire wrath. He claimed that she did not raise me in what society termed ‘perfect’. As a result, I was sent out of home to fend for myself and my growing tummy. It was not easy. Everyone had an opinion about my morals but no one cared to take me in and give me the courage to face yet another day. I had to get two jobs just to keep him alive.

I went to him; he didn’t want to see me.

“I have a dream to chase and not you nor that thing you are carrying going to stop me”

“I will only provide a roof under your miserable head, nothing else”

Those were his words. I didn’t believe him until delivery time. I was alone. It felt cold and hopeless. God knows i had not bargained for that. Jealous eyes watched as people milled around other women in the maternity ward. I had no one by my side. I had to practically do everything for myself and the baby; save for well-wishers who would step in once in a while to help me out. It was helpful and I appreciated it, but it didn’t bring the closure that comes with family.  I longed for someone to hold my hand and tell me that it was going to be okay. I wanted reassurance that it was going to be fine but no one came.

My little one was born. He was the only company I had. He gave me peace and love only mothers understand. He was my imperative to live. We had been through a lot. We knew what it meant to sleep out in the cold, we knew how it felt to go without food and without doubt knew what it meant to be locked out of the house and how it felt for strangers to immediately take our place in what we once called home. Life certainly has an uncanny way of playing favorites.

He wanted an answer but I was not ready to pick a side. This was the man who gave him life and was without doubt determined to take it out of him.

3 Broken pencils

I quickened my pace as I entered the train station. Mike and Sofia were tagging on my dress to keep up with me. John on the other hand was panting heavily and I could feel his presence from miles away; the smell of his musky cologne by now had shadowed the entire place. (He looked so good too; he had been working out or something). He had done it again and was asking for forgiveness and another chance to make things right. The look on his face was pale and spoke volumes of frustration. I wanted to turn back and make peace with him. This little heart of mine amazes me at times. But then that would be the gravest mistake I would have ever done under the sun.

He liked his shirts with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up to reveal firm arms. I always imagined him shirtless. His face was perfectly carved into perfection; God took time on this one. He always looked and smelt good. His kisses kept drawing me closer in toxic excesses. They were so full of life. He touched in a magical way like no other sending all touchables into disarray. His strong grip had a way of sending flushes all over the place; I always fell to my knees. Let me not start with the voice… ooh Lawd. He had made me a wrecking fireball, a robot at full charge.  I was hooked.

But…I caught him with Stella, again! and this time round the story was all so intimate and elaborate. Church wedding plans were already underway.  He wanted to make things formal with her. Apparently he had “killed “us in a grisly road accident in some remote area, she said. I’m made of thick skin but this time round he had managed to douse me in ice cold water. He can’t blame it on the alcohol like he has always done.  It was his doing, his own making.

The kids were old enough to understand the goings in their environment and had now grown resentment and anger for their father; Mike thought he was the coolest dad and Sofia couldn’t finish a story without him, but he had chosen to “kill” them. I could see their hearts literally breaking down. They were hurting and it pained me that I could do nothing to ease their pain. What had we done wrong to deserve all this? The home we built together can no longer stand.

The clinking and clunking of the locomotion engines doused my feelings and tears. They transported me to a nostalgic place; the walks in the park, random lunches and dinners, naked Sundays and family Fridays to mention a few.  I crawled through the shadows of time and all the good moments and memories we shared just flew by. It was the end of a fairly odd paradisiacal torcher. We were officially on the run, destination unknown.

I hope I remember to forget him.

Broken treasure

Source: Broken treasure

Broken treasure

The city was all quiet. It seemed so alive yet dead. Was Nairobi just watching them make mistakes? The street lights were glaring onto the deserted gravel save for some tire screeches here and there.  It was a Friday night and they had just met. A cool breeze rustled her chiffon dress and she could feel Marks eyes staring at her now disturbed face. Teenagers were all over shouting profanities and this was not how they intended to spend their all so glorious evening.  Marks house wasn’t far away so they decided to spend the night at his place. They sat at his bedroom window and watched as the world drifted by; their legs were freely tangled and hearts free like sparrows. She was half asleep on his cheat with a content smile on her lips.

“I’ll always love you” he whispered

“If I get lost, just sing me a song and I’ll find my way to you” she mumbled

She loved Mark. He was the best God had created for her. She worshiped the ground he walked on. To her this was more than she could ever ask for in life. Every night she had dreams of how they would spend their lives together, the strolls at the beach, walks in the park and even how many kids they would have. It was all bliss; a perfect union. No amount of ill luck was going to befall them. She loved him more than silver and gold

Fast forward to nine months later; a beautiful girl was born. A product of lust. She dint know her fate even though she seemed loved. Slowly and stealthily as it came, all bliss faded and turned into something else she dint anticipate. He became distant and unapologetic of his infidelities. The other day he came announcing that his new girlfriend was expectant and that he dint want to see them anymore. He said they were a hindrance to his success and that if he had the power he would have “done” away with them.

She was a good wife. She did everything for him. She washed his clothes, made him good food. By good I mean good. But he never cared. All he wanted was her body and nothing much. She felt used but just couldn’t get herself to love someone else. She was as hooked as bait. He was her dream man and no amount of convincing would make her feel otherwise. But Mark on the other hand was oblivious of the fact that he was loved by this girl.

She stayed put because society said that every kid has a right to be brought up with both parents. She said that other kids would ridicule her for being brought up by one parent.  She put up with him because of her kid but her heart was broken into a thousand fragments. Her only consolation is the love and memories they once shared.  Did she have to go through all this?

Her kind live a painful dreary life