THE DOTTY LOVE TRIANGLE

(Objectification).
She wakes alone, stands alone, walks alone, eats alone, watches alone and all her days pass while still alone. And when the night dawns, she still goes to sleep alone but dreams and thoughts wouldn’t leave her on her own. 
She is the girl who grew up known, always preferred Yvonne chakachaka’s to any other song. She saw the music she wrote very live in her eyes. The dream of one day being an iconic woman despite of all the struggles and even though each day’s ambitions rose so high. 

Determined to get out of the stale hometown which never differentiated black from white, every day, as she walks by, men and women rumble and bow of how she is a different kind. A shade that reminds them of the embodiment of beauty, but silently she fears for the attention and the cruel people bestowed upon her city. Children lost in this life maze, while others beg with each wake. Every sunrise they work more than the prominent person we all seem to know about and look up to but who doesn’t know about us or what we’re up to.

She looks around and prays that with that twenty shilling coin, she would miraculously change the life of him who begged alone, as  well dressed  side walkers each not more alone than him, darted glass cutting glances as if he was a boil. A sore nuisance being born less normal than the average man, matters worse, poor and with no self-preservation than the wicker man. She ignores the world and always kept that child in her heart, for no matter how much she did not beg for attention, nor beauty nor affection, she still was begging for fruition. A chance was denied to be better than the last, but not one to make the world change further from the cruel past.

She had created the power love story which would set two souls as one and free as the flying birds. With herself playing the damsel in distress, the knight of ‘amour’ would rescue and whisk her away to lands she never thought existed or if that was too much, just a walk wherever they were hand in hand. She would be graceful and like a gypsy adorned in all shimmy and shiny jewelries, her beauty would always remain a flawed perfection to the king who would rule her dynasty. At night she was the queen who would strip down to just a hip hugging sultry dress and dance for her master for she was dudess. The fortress would then come alive, witnessing the affair she so played in mind was no longer blossoming in hide. Her eyes black in kohl would pierce his soul, reducing the iron man to a childish boy who would join and sync to her dance row. The night would fade away but the depth of love created with each rising morning would be greater than the legend of Heer and Sahiban, Romeo and Juliet, Bajirao Mastani, or Ram and Sita. Her knight would still be a villain in her beginning but ever the hero at her end. And as she sat alone creating and planning all the wish lists they would cross out one by one, forever together like those two words, she found relief in a thought that Soledad was also made before us against the world; henceforth assumed her knight was still searching for her in this vast earth. 

Cloaked, the world tried to tune her into something feigned. Since riches were at arms bay and hard to grasp, when she pursued one source, what tapping to it meant losing, had her changing minds not at per with the changing times but beyond blurred lines, bouncing back to the lone self she always liked. Even though the next one tried to treat her better, his movie would not be a block buster, since he played too safe and no aura of mystery surrounded him which is what she thought was a must have, to change her status.

That was a little heart’s fiction. But now she was a little older and reality facing her she sought to fulfill all the hard work demanding dreams she still had lingering whenever she thought of completion. She slept thinking alongside famous minds but when she woke this was by far hindsight. She once thought that friends wouldn’t understand but she later realised that every one of them was so caught up in being better than the rest, so they wallowed alone in their own dreams and success. You would think she was egoistic for not reaching out but proven time and again she only thrived in her dotty love triad.

(Back to self).

And now in bed I lay again night after night of trying not to become “That girl” as Alysia Harris spoke, but still be the one to tick off my checklist of ambitions and wait for you woke. And so, I think and contemplate “What is my purpose? Who are you that I have to keep in mind what you would want, instead of reaching my focus? You taunt me, always tell me this and that is wrong, but you’re never there to hold, and then in my moments alone, I stumble upon a quote, 

“To be in love, you got to have the passion to be in love and want to worship it.” Did you want me to see this? Is this your way of telling me to wait for you? Or is it my easy way out of wanting to see the cloudburst and sad days reign as I still search like a fool.

Yes, My answer from then becomes definite.

Set to invest and make myself better than the rest, and also not fail by committing a sin for my own gain, I lay all my plans below your feet and wish against wishes that you have a purpose for my existence as you see fit. Seated alone combining these letters I get a picture of a  thousand words, that while I search for you, I should also be righteous than the last, that my heart should stay pure and I should also learn the essence of true love. 

The picture shows reincarnated I would see God in you and thenceforth I plead that while I strive to not be alone and fill this void with the theory of you, in case you see me walking by the streets oblivious and given up hope; resolved to the conclusion that you exist not, brush your arm against mine, interlock yours with mine wandering eyes; and if I don’t recognize who you are, remind me just like sleeping beauty this only marks the end of my dotty love triangle. That me, myself and I would forever be replaced by HIM, you and us. 

TRAVEL DIARIES II

16/11/2016 – 19/11/2016

This was the day of arrival. The journey was long and tiresome and people were really exhausted to say the least. The sun was sky high in the clouds and the heat was unbearable. No sooner did you quench your system than the water started oozing from your every pore in your body. The stop over at Mtito Andei was a huge help to say the least to many who refreshed and regrouped the energy lost to be able to carry on with the journey. And so did we arrive at Mombasa some few minutes to 1 p.m. Drama was nowhere to be seen but it was inevitable. People scattered to look for hotels to sleep in for the rest of the stay and also freshen up before embarking on the long adventure of touring the beautiful island.

The first stop was at Pirates beach. Everyone could use the sound of waves and the sight of the vast blue waters from the now one and a half day usual white dust, sun and the speeding Maasai bus. A place with beautiful almost naked people soaking wet, the foods, the colourful attires, white sand and the cool breeze that made sure you forgot the heat experience earlier, who would refuse that? You wouldn’t ignore the smooth sound of the water waves either. They beckoned you like fries and chicken wings to a model on a diet. And so did most of us get dressed up for the soothing water. We explored the beach, bought the Swahili culture and almost completely blended with the natives. I won’t lie, I have always wondered how they could tell us apart from their own. we embellished our Swahili with accents, wore their outfits but still. I mean even one recognized we were from Moi university. Abhi! Witch craft be real na! Or maybe you know better. I could use some insight here.

The evening flew by and dusk approached. We were ready to leave the cool waters and into Maasai’s speeding den. Snacks were not left behind either which had many run for their bowels. Basi watu walinyambua. Vitenzi vilikua vya drrrrr! (the grenade) sssss! (the silencer) ppppp! (no controlla) and uffff! (the wake up and walk ten miles from the source). And then at that corner windows stuck and wouldn’t open…

Night fell.

Mtwapa the city of Mere and Messi 3:16 (they wept), apparently, was waiting for us. We dressed up and with Mombasa raha as our humble abode it made sure we would experience what raha meant. We left for mtwapa. The night was still young and pockets were vibrating with cash. You wish you were us. Lambada was the hub. But don’t let the name fool you, though we eventually made lemonade out of lemons. Drinks were served and aerobics/acrobats danced for us. Some not so experienced in the guzzling department broke their virginity here with just one shot of Smirnoff black ice and they were gone. The experienced drank to their fill. People danced and some tried to get some with no luck or did they? I leave it on the night for more information. None wanted to leave but we had to since drama was catching fast with us. Soon rather than later, clothes were removed vomit was thrown up of which neither appeased the drama gods because finally they were with us.

In three, two, one, Congestina was revived.
One was on top of the other grabbing the neck and digging claws deep enough to kill. While the other tried to save themselves from the grip, people started shouting and the driver who was ready to take us back to our rooms in a hoarse voice declared he wouldn’t carry fighting chics. I’m not so enlightened with animal kingdoms but let’s categorise chics under birds. The eagle wouldn’t let go. It removed feathers from the hen and when that did not feel enough it went for the breast. Let’s now leave the birds alone. In short, hair was pulled out, people shouted, others helped because titties were almost pulled out and by the time the climax point started depreciating, many had already used what they had seen to decide not to board that particular Nissan. The driver went back in the car and as the courageous few we carried on with the journey back to town. We were sitting on egg shells. The air was chilled and hearts beat fast. My prayer was please drama calm your titties also, because we can’t handle any more or we might just decide to turn on you and bite yours too. Everyone got in sync with frustration. If not from a friend it was from circumstances. Some vented but none cared because as media students there was no psychology taught. And as much as we would try to help, either sleep distracted us or the fear of saying the wrong thing lest be served as the next piece of meat on the drama club. But I think a more simple thought, none of my business sufficed. You don’t wish you were us now eh!

Confusion wouldn’t leave us alone either. The driver says this, we argue that. Tupeleke California, enda express, weka dox, apana weka kwa mapembe. At least here people came together for a common purpose. To argue our way into our comfortable beds. The conclusion was reached and we alighted ready to go to sleep. None would blurt out the incidents that happened earlier. Was it fear or just selective amnesia, perhaps the confusion in the last few seconds had helped us gain consciousness. As soon as we entered our rooms did another noise break out. Mbwa wewe, yaani unaeza nitusi this was followed by another tug of war to finish what wasn’t completed earlier. As good Samaritans we had to intervene and also host one of the fighters or let’s say we adhered to the saying that, out of sight out of mind.

It was now 3 a.m. and none had enough strength of retelling what had happened or following through the cause of this rapture with a clear mind. Sides were hard to pick but as a writer information was still priceless.
Sleep swept our young minds away and considering the next day would be a busy one, everyone resolved to shutting down. What felt like few minutes later had morning as the evidence. We woke up a bit hangovad over last night’s shenanigans and since these were the highlight, the story began again. This time facts much further from the reality show launched 6 hours ago or the cause of what you would call wasted war III.

On the small walk towards the bus we made sure to leave this abomination there. Everyone was composed and calm ready for the educational trip. We had batted eyelashes, clean faces minty breaths and unique styles to complement our looks. I just couldn’t forgets these words said by one of us though, ni mchana ngoja siku ikuche utaona, climax bado. This was true because that night as anticipated the war broke out. This time harder than the last. Cat fights are an understatement. When you see such a pounce this town revives the little Swahili you subconsciously know that, again mwenye nguvu mpishe. The scenario goes like, Congestina congestinad her counterpart in a congested room. This was not a tourist attraction to keep us sightful as we had anticipated when we set for Mombasa, but it kept us mouthful till the last day. And without knowledge, drama died out and we prepared ourselves for the last day of our little vacation.

The picture used was taken by the author along Fort Jesus footpath. The works of art displayed are the embodiment of the beautiful and cultural pieces Kenya is made of. The image represents the contemporariness of the events in this diary in a complex artistic way which speak more than a thousand words, since that’s what this diary is made of.

TRAVEL DIARIES 15/11/2016 – 16/11/2016

Are you done?

That was the statement heard in every room that hosted a fourth year as each was being hastened by their friends so as not to be left behind for the trip. Because just imagine otherwise, that would be a terrible joke and not funny at that. Well maybe a little. Some almost missed it but thanks to the African timing luck was on their side. All assembled and we boarded the bus many targeting strategic seats for comfort. Our Maasai driver, as he was called was said to be a very strict one who was actually renown for drinking and leaving students behind. “When I say 10 minutes I mean 10 minutes,” that’s was verbatim as retold to other students who were also going for the field course. Excitement reigned as we left the school and hearts beat hallelujah as we approached the gate. “Fungua gate!” someone shouted. They must have been afraid that the VC would retract his so efficient way of granting us our wish and call us back to wait for the trip till further notice. And hoot! was the sound as we left the gates of our university into the sunrise each mile better than the last as we sped further and further away from our school.

Mother nature calls. I mean everyone, I’m almost sure and this is like the first commandment of travelling must have emptied their bladder before boarding the bus. But the anxiety, happiness and nervousness made some of us want to go more than anticipated. And with courage like knights we matched outside when the bus stopped, praying that Maasai would not shout the obvious and cower us back to our seats. My remark throughout all this strictness was coast ain’t running. My bladder on the other hand might burst, actually I was torn between the bladder and rectum, which needed release first. So we ran for it and I asked one of my mates, where do we go. And she was like, I see a shack ahead let’s help ourselves there. So we went.

 Disclaimer!
Please do not read the next paragraph if your imagination runs wild. Disgusting content ahead.

More like shit ahead. One went in and came out mum, the second approached the door and was like khai! And eventually I went in. Shit just got real, literally! There was a lump of dried feaces at the doorstep, the pit hole was completely covered so it wasn’t possible to use anymore, or let’s say I couldn’t position myself there without fear that I might get swallowed by the massive looking raw waste that stared callously with no fear nor favour. The wall was plastered flat with drippings of stool and remains of what looked like dry maize husks which made me think these were not humans’ because damn, who was able to shoot that high? And how? But why?

And so between the slabs laid on the the shack I peed as fast as I could (guessing the bladder won) and before I could dubstep out of the shack my identification card fell. FML! (fuck my life) Because if not for the villagers around the area, I would have preferred the warm bush than where I was. Turning around and hearing my friends scream hurry up! And the bus hooting threatening to leave, I picked it up and ran towards the bus with no second thought. I sat for five minutes without talking. My head spinning and imagining all sorts of scenarios, what if the shack collapsed on us or what if it sank and I went down with it. Would Maasai stop the bus to start digging little me out of feaces and foul smell? Sleep came to my aid and luckily I never got to imagine the answers.

The ride bumpy and smooth at the same time kept starving each person’s anticipation of the lovely coast. As icing to the cake, pockets were full of cash. Add personal pocket money and others entire life savings plus the liquid four thousand five hundred shillings that was given for our accommodation needs on arrival. “Thank you Moi university,” someone said. That was a first and I concurred because in this school you enjoy it while it lasts.

Finally we reached Nakuru for breakfast. Maasai again, “20 minutes max, and no waiting for anyone. So we hurried out and each one of us stocked themselves with snacks, food, beverages and even drinks.
Suprisingly, Maasai also got caught up in the frenzy and decided to extend some time by default. Finally we were on the bus ready to leave.
And then hell broke loose in what you would call T minus 20 minutes. Booze kicked in and more like 90% of the bus was speaking in tongues.
Men and women were shouting from the top of their voices and all I could come up with from the words thrown around was ginene! Mother fucker this mother fucker that. My seat mate turned to see what was going down and in a second she was like, “Tutaskiza hizi motherfuckers hadi coast? Si tuwatch tu a black movie,” and I was like let’s try porn! A little extreme eh! You think!

Omwana was shouting, pombe si ya watoto ni ya watu wakubwa, another asking nani watoto? and he replies kama uyo ameenda kukojoa. People burst out laughing because in that same statement all then became silent as if paving sound waves for the lecturers in the bus to grasp. Regardless, Omwana was still the voice of reason seated at the right seat of the left side of the bus. He now stood to calm a cock and bull fight that almost broke out amongst two people both with top shouting voices producing distinct sounds. Ebu uliza uyo anaambia nani? Ntakushona wewe, ntakushona! and for a split second there was another calm then met by another unaambia nani? This was a retort from a suggestion that people should settle and stop asking the driver to stop the bus so as to go and release. Again, unaambia nani? each nani louder than the last. The tongues were now clear and unaambia nani? took over in most of all. That’s how Omwana sat his misguided courage and back to sleep almost everyone was. Small discussions were heard here and there but what was clear is that let the sleeping dogs lie.

The picture above taken by the author is a show case of the black, long and thick Portuguese canons found in Fort Jesus, Mombasa. It is used since the canons were beautiful and the tour guide had a way of relaying the information about them to us which I’m sure none will soon forget. Innuendos were used and the sightful cannons also mirrored the sleeping dogs as mentioned above. They functioned but big black balls were used at the tip to block them from making explosions lest i mention safety matters. With that said let’s wait for the next travel diary coming out soon!

LASSO HIS HEART

CHAPTER TWO

The return

If only Sergio knew, on that night he would have stopped by saying hi and then bye, but he could not. Camilla was reserved and he saw it. She was calm, deep and a breath of innocence. He flashbacked to a time he had gone for one of his escapades and they were in Thompsons falls. How seeing the falling cascade of water had ignited a side he never knew he had.

See, Sergio 27, was a typical player. Devilish and rogue and this is why women would not stop drooling over him. He enjoyed the attention as it came but that day was different. The falling water had lit a spark inside him and he had instantly thought of Camilla. He remembered how nervous she was when he greeted her that first time. He smiled but he was happy about something else. Camilla was a beauty but she did not know nor care. He had taken time to look at how she used to talk to the men in town and one thing he realised was that flirting was not her strong hold. And he felt a tinge thinking of how many guys she had turned down with her smart mouth and yet there he was. He knew she liked him but he wondered why. He was not the perfect prince but she had given him a minute, hours actually of her time.

●●●

Noticing the serene environment in his presence and smelling the fresh air that was in rhythm with the falling water had made him yearn for peace and serenity and looking at the waters again, for a split second he saw her silhouette. Camilla made him feel like a saint. She was naive, innocent and she trusted him. This made him want to tap into more of her fountain. He wanted her with him at the moment and he smiled again realising how happy it would’ve made her. She was always mesmerised by the little things unlike many women he had met. Like the one he had gone with, to that escapade. She was the opposite of Camilla. She was beautiful alright, but he wasn’t interested in knowing anything else about her. And he felt stupid for even bringing her along. He had walked towards the waters where he felt more at home and vulnerable. And that’s when he realised he could open his soul to Camilla without even questioning. He was hers and he loved it.

●●●

But now he was back. And it had taken every ounce of willpower in him to not run into her arms. He had seen Camilla with another man when he arrived from the city and without meaning to, he cursed. His Adams apple had grown bigger in his throat but he swallowed it and kept his cool before anyone noticed him and shouted his name which would’ve made Camilla and his boy see him. He had walked stealthily making sure that Camilla hadn’t seen him. And she hadn’t. But that night he did not sleep. He shared greetings with his family then feigned jetlag and retired to his chambers.
He was thinking of her. How beautiful and happy she had looked. She had grown taller and curvier. She looked confident enough now and he felt nostalgic at the thought of her face if she knew he was back. She would probably curse him but he was not worried about that. What made him anxious was the man holding her. Was it really anxiety or something deeper that made him sick?

He was bipolar and every time his brain imagined of scenarios of Camilla and the man she was with as lovers his jealousy grew immensely. And so he set on to get some sleep and in the morning he would go and look for her. But how could he sleep? The uncertainty was killing him and he rose. With his horse, Rubio, he decided to take a stroll to get some fresh air and also escape his thoughts. Only his legs moved as he walked by the shore taking in the sound of the sparkling water waves and the sand which looked beautiful under the high shinning moon. The breeze was perfect and as he kept moving he found himself looking at the tree where they had declared their love for each other and minutes later at Camilla’s. Really Rubio of all the places you could’ve taken me this is where you brought me! He couldn’t shake the anxiety that overwhelmed him in a heartbeat. Would he knock? But of course he would. He figured it wasn’t that late so either she would be watching TV or reading her books and when he saw the orange ambers of light behind the closed drapes he assumed the latter. And he went close to the windows and knocked rhythmically how he had done years before. They had come up with this code of knocking in order to avoid Camilla’s mom who was always very helpful in scaring away the many men who lurked around their compound.

●●●

For a moment she thought she was dreaming. And she turned down the slow music playing in the background in order to listen if her mind was imagining things again. He is going to be the death of me, she thought and pushed the thoughts away from their futility.
But she heard it again. Her heart almost leapt out. Could it be him?
Raising the curtain slightly she looked out the window and there was no one. But her stimulus led her to the door and that’s when everything came flushing before her in a surge she could not escape. And she opened the door. He was there! He was really there. She couldn’t believe her eyes and she stuck on the door. Her legs wouldn’t move and as always he took over and spoke, “Camilla its me.” Him speaking made her weak. It was heaven and hell. And she was between. She did not know how she would react but her feet wanted to make a run for it. And yet she froze when he leaned in with arms open. What was she to do, but to only respond to her master. Time must have stopped because how he held her and how weightless she felt, the universe must have also forgotten its duties to watch them. She locked the door behind her and he took her hand towards their favourite place, the ocean, leaving Rubio grazing on the front lawn. On the way he asked how she was doing, learnt about her life but he just couldn’t wait to ask who was the guy holding her. That’s when Camilla snapped. She confronted him of the women he had been with, how he had left her and even claimed how wrong he was to ask. “Why do you care?” she had continued talking and fighting him and he felt remorseful for seeing how much he had hurt her. But what he did next is what almost gave her a heart attack. He pulled her close in his arms and with one hand made sure he had secured her hands from throwing fists at him and with the other hand he held her tiny waist and gave her a kiss of life. He hadn’t let her catch her breath from how sensually and slowly he devoured every corner of her little mouth when he whispered in her ear, “Because I love you more than life itself,” and he repeated it to the whole world, “I love you Camilla.”
Sergio had never said that to her but there, he had laid the world at her feet professing his love in the most beautiful way she could imagine. Under the moonlight, while his eyes shone like diamonds sparkling in the sun. And her teary self fell in his arms where she had once rented but now called home. And now more than anything she believed him. Maybe it was the way he fell on her feet and she was sure she owned his soul. They were equals and she knelt to kiss him before she whispered something back in his ears. And with that same smirk she so loved he grabbed her and in one quick move he was on top of her kissing her in a way that compensated for the lost years and the only times he missed her. They lay there enjoying the breeze and the warmth from their bodies till twilight. The ocean waves fell in a smooth crescendo in sync with their passion while the trees swayed to the birds singing in unison, to the tune of love on the high branches. The two souls had found each other and the universe was theirs for the taking. Sergio had returned home to her lassoer where he rightfully belonged and he had a plan. This time better than before it involved her, but like a baby she lay asleep in his arms peacefully and oblivious of what was coming. Or was she.

THE END.

LASSO HIS HEART

 

CHAPTER ONE
Bon voyage

Two years had passed by ever since Sergio had left for the city. He had left the small village that was in rut to look for greener pastures, so he said. Sergio was an ambitious young man who since they had met had never settled for less. From the way he described his dreams to things he wanted in life one could always tell that this village was not where he belonged. This was a small town with beautiful people but was characterised with lack of growth. Its people always worked but success was in the speed of a chameleon. The people had settled and many were comfortable but not him. Moving through the town she sighed, this was a sigh of relief from the past, the slow life in La Paz, the amazing things that were happening in her life including college which she had graduated as the summa cum laude, the new man in her life, the new job and she could not forget her supportive hard working mother who through thick and thin always came through for her.
Camilla 24, was raised in the town of La Paz and being the first child much responsibility fell upon her. She was practically the father and mother of their house. Not that her mother did not play her role but she was too busy and always working that Camilla felt obliged to pick up the pieces and help around whenever required. Her mother worked at a nearby school as a janitor and it was only through God she had managed to finish paying through Camilla’s high school and college education which demanded a lot of money for her tuition fee. Her father gone with the wind at the age of 12, she, her mother and her the two siblings were left to fend for themselves. This had taught her a lot in life. But two vital facts she had registered was that one, never to depend on men. Two, was that no matter how stupid she gets was to always remember never to fall in a ditch called love. To her this was an illusion, a fantasy, vanity just like what Sergio had left in search of.
Camilla still remembered the day he had left for the city like it was yesterday. He had ruthlessly left her stranded by the road her world torn apart from his departure. Sergio had tried his best to explain why he needed to leave but she had not understood no matter how much she wanted the best for him. And now here she was, a young successful maiden with a job that could support her and her family and a loving Seth who though not exactly a knight in shining amour was enough. She walked by the tree where they had built their little haven and even though she tried not to notice it, its presence could not be ignored. The wind was blowing hard and it was almost raining, so she decided to stand under the huge mahogany tree for a while hoping the fast coming rain would pass and she would go back home. No one was around but she felt like she was being watched. She looked around again to confirm and she let out a little laugh from realizing how paranoid she had just got. To be honest she was guilty. See, Camilla was dating Seth the new guy, to whom she had never mentioned Sergio, and so the moment she started walking towards the tree she noticed that she was opening a Pandora’s box. But with her curiosity…

●●●

This one held bitter-sweet memories. Memories she could not erase nor have the pleasure to talk about with anyone. Not that she did not have friends but there were some hidden parts of her soul that only Sergio understood. This was why she felt guilty. She was in a relationship with Seth but she felt like she belonged to another. She longed for a man who had made her broke her two vows. To never depend on a man and to never fall in love. A man who abandoned her without a second look and this made her hate herself because he had selfishly left her for the good life and lavish lifestyle sacrificing her for what she considered vanity. In her humble house of glass she could not only see how they were destined to be together but also how he had not fought for her neither given a solid reason to leave. Really Cam! What was more solid than going to hustle for a better life? But then why did she hear that he was getting involved with other people. Other women, older women. Hadn’t he promised her that on returning it would be them against the world? That he would carry their hurt and sacrifice and turn it into a kingdom. But why did she even believe him. He was young back then and had not even finished his college education when he decided to leave for the city. What fortune would he have built like that? Is that why he resorted to being with older women?
She was already soaked all over. But on her face, it wasn’t the rain. She wiped her face with the back of her hands and that’s when she realised she had been sobbing, her past was with her and it would always be with her as long as that tree blossomed. For a split second she hated it. And she hit it but that only brought her much pain. Not to her hand which she completely ignored, but her core which was breaking into two. It was like she was hurting herself with every willpower she spent denying the love she still felt for Sergio. Her heart churned from the realisation that she did not hate him nor the tree, yet she wanted to. The opposite was true because la rouge as they had named the tree, was the only proof that she had lived. Proof that for two years she had been in a telenovela. Happy and in love with Sergio mon Dragon before that sad day of his departure. She was dying to escape the feelings she had suppressed for so long. Feelings she saw as weakness and looking into space, her mind drifted and she remembered the good times.
Like that day he had brought her a hairclip from his grandmothers all dusty and old but she was the happiest from how goofy he had looked trying to pin it on her dress. His face always flushed when he was clueless and his small eyes widened with innocence and purity. She loved this about him, but she also loved how bad he was.

●●●

Sergio was an arrogant being in every sense of the word. Walked like he owned the earth or he expected people to kiss his dust. His aura alone always kept people at bay. It portrayed him as dangerous and very intimidating and this made him very unapproachable, but that was a magnet to Camilla. She remembers the day they met. She had seen him from the corner of her eye and brushed off the slightest thought of how good he was, before she could even think it. It was hard. She must have tried like a zillion times not to look at him but he was doing what she was afraid of. He had the power and that’s why with one last look to feed her eyes to satisfaction she had wanted to go but what she had not realized yet was that while she was still glaring, he had started moving towards her and before she could save herself he spoke. ‘Hi’, she almost swallowed her tongue, and weird questions started bombarding her mind.
Did he just say hi! Or maybe he just sighed,
Why is he here, and so near!
Is he really talking to me? No he ain’t talking to me, Omg what am I wearing?
She had not replied when she heard, “Okay beautiful just tell me what I can do so you can respond to my greetings.” Yes dummy he was talking to you, Camilla snap out of it. She composed herself and replied, “Perhaps you can tell me why you’re here.”
Wherever she got the courage to retort, but it worked.

To her, He was angelic in every way. A smooth face in a shade of caramel, tiny snake eyes that pierced her soul alive, a slightly sharp nose in perfect alignment with tiny light pink lips she could only now see moving and she wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him.
“What?” He asked as she repressed the thought then replied what was totally out of the context. I’m Camilla.
What did you expect she wasn’t listening but studying him. He was an art and Camilla was at school. School of art, they say?
He smiled and replied Sergio, Sergio mon dragon. That was his name. And she saw it, the smirk that hooked her for life. He was perfect. Dangerously handsome, strikingly rogue and oblivious of how much he affected her. Or was he?

●●●

The sun was setting and the ocean pure blue was almost at the edge of the shore. Waves by waves went in sync with how mesmerized Camilla was. And as they walked, she almost toppled over a sand made hill when he caught her before she embarrassed herself. His grip was strong. Hands masculine with nicely cut short nails and veins that made him appear stronger than she actually thought he was. It was amazing in his arms. Now she wished she did lie on that chest that peeked through his tight muscle shirt which was also trying so hard not to give his strong physique a time to breathe by clinging very hard to it. She let out a little laugh for a split second, imagining the picture of a t-shirt holding on tight to him. She was crazy she thought.
Apart from the imaginations, she was also crazy about him and it was hard to hide it. His broad shoulders made him look like a gladiator which connected effortlessly to his lean neck and his angularly framed face. His taut jaws added oomph to his dark stare sourcing from the misty crystal balls that were perfectly matched with tiny golden marbles at the center. She could stare at him all day, she thought and that’s when she broke his gaze and looked down to get herself on her feet. And it caught her eye. He was in shorts and his legs were not disappointing either. Strong, long and muscular like a footballers. God! He was a specimen!

She exclaimed. He almost heard it when the atmosphere got interrupted by another huge wave that almost reached their feet. It was getting dark she realized, then dissolved her mind to focus on going home. But she wanted to stay in this moment, hoping that no one else existed apart from them. She wanted to talk to him through the night and until the next… let’s say few decades to come. She wanted to hear his stories share in his endeavors and be a part of his ‘team’ if there was any. Would he let her?

●●●

Of course he would not, she fretted. See, Camilla was pretty. But that was it. She was a quiet, old soul who believed in things happening at their own convenience. He on the other hand looked destined for a princess in the making. A rich, classic woman who would match his charisma and Sophistication. She was not made for him. Otherwise he would just get bored after a few days, let’s not kid ourselves, hours, and leave for his destiny. Like he had finally done. This sad conclusion woke her up from her reverie, realising the rain had stopped and she set for home swearing she would forget him completely. Naive Camilla, that was not it. Sergio was fire and it spread like a virus. Destroying every defense mechanism and infecting even the most protected parts. Flashes of that night at the shores, kept coming back to her. Talking to him taunted her. It had been like making music. Each sound better than the last. Elemental, with each complementing towards a common rhythm with an end so ecstatic forcing you to repeat. And for a moment there she was lost again in his thoughts. Evidently, Sergio had changed her. He exposed a side she did not know existed within. A side that was ready to be swayed by him. And that was not Camilla. No man would tell her anything leave alone care listen to. She was hard headed and a queen of her own kingdom. But Sergio ruled her world. She was his servant at will and she loved it. And on that fateful night he was there. Offering to take her back home to her mother’s. He wanted to assure she was safe. But who would expect him to care and yet he did.

BEFORE SUMMER COMES WINTER

“Got a secret,

Can you keep it?

Swear this one you’ll save,

Better lock it, in your pocket,

Taking this one to the grave.”

Those were the words humming in her head as she walked down town head down afraid of the eyes from the passers by, who seemed to read her like a little book. A dark cloud of betrayal hurt and humiliation engulfed her little bubble which she had believed was too risky to ever let anyone near. But she had and like human she had enjoyed being good and loving others. Feeling a person come alive from her small gestures was once her ecstasy in life. Caring and protecting was what she had lived for. But now she was hurting and although her strong self could not let a tear betray her weakness, any soul who had bothered to take more than a second to look through her would have seen her fighting not to let go of her humanity. She had reached her threshold. To her, only two worlds existed but perhaps to her imaginary saviour she would have entertained a third haven where they would relive the peaceful and humble life with no fear of getting hurt. They would have walked together in the morning chill, watched the sunrise as they remembered how life as mean girls was probably one and their only strength in college but rejoice at how strong their sisterhood bond was. Nothing would have ever broken them. They would only think of the bright future that lay ahead waiting for them to tap into all the great opportunities and experiences life had promised to offer. Like one of their dreams each would meet their prince and fall in love as in those fairy tales they had grown reading and contrary to peoples’ opinion believed. But who am I kidding reality was harsh and life like it does, reminded her it was just joking. Her bubble had burst and she was bare.

Like a cold empty shell she let in the strong wind and the humiliation she had felt that night slapped out every sense of good and kindness in her, every breathe reminding her of her past and the choice she was yet to make. Her mind shutting down she could only focus on those five lines of that song she had vividly remembered to keep her lucid. She had not realised how far she had walked when she felt tiny wet beads hit her all at once. Heavy raindrops had started falling and as the people around her ran for shelter she followed the opposite direction with the hopes of saving herself from the embarrassment of prying eyes or perhaps by luck meet a pitiful stranger who might have stopped her to ask why she was crying so hard . But she did not believe in luck anymore and as for the “pitiful stranger” that must have been a scene from the telenovelas she wished she lived or a pictured scenario from a novel she had read. Perhaps even she realised it was raining heavily but had let the rain wash her believing she would get cleansed. She only came out dirty and drenched of wet mud. There was no hope at all and her last grasp of straw had also slid through her wet hands while she watched. She was fading, letting go of her humanity and with one last look behind Bella knew exactly what she was supposed to do.

Bella was a beautiful girl. Since she was a baby she was envied by both strangers and neighbours who had wished they had given birth to her. Her parents were so proud of her and they always considered their little Bella evidence they had won. She was their little trophy. As a first child little Bella had surprised many with her sense of thoughtfulness and responsibility. Although she was a quiet child, not because she did not have friends or people around her, Bella had always preferred to stay alone. I have always thought may be while in heaven she had seen God’s disappointment in Adam and Eve and even after being born she subconsciously never forgot that humans were not reliable. But that is just me.

Little Bella had grown to be this beautiful girl, (which many had expected) caring and always mindful of those in need. Her innocent big round eyes always made her look like she knew more than she could see and people always felt intimidated. A fountain of dark hair fell perfectly on her shoulders which accentuated how long her neck was. A symmetric face which had lifted jaws and radiant cheeks at the peak. Her nose, small and a bit sharp aligned perfectly with her full pink lips. Little freckles around her forehead gave her a rusty look of childhood and complemented her skin which was so smooth, cloned in a shade from a golden ray of sunset. Looking at her was addictive. Maybe it was because beneath this perfection was a girl in pain and once you got close it would be your new life’s mission to save her. This she always kept a secret.

Little Bella had grown both in favour and grace from those around her. Amidst the difficulties she had gone through to complete both her Primary and Secondary education, she had scored good grades and was waiting to join the university. From a distance, you could see how happy she was and it was infectious because looking at her, had you feel this warmth in your core as if the world just stopped and only her radiance and the ambiance from the sunset, had merged to form this perfect sanctuary, surrounding her with falling colours. According to many, she made it and she would proceed to college, study, get a good job and redeem her divorced mother and sisters, who were looking up to her. And so did she join college.

Life had not begun until then. She had resolved to quit being detached and let people in. She was ready to enjoy life to its fullest in this multi-diversity new found place. All her worries had faded and were replaced by a carefree attitude towards the small challenges she encountered from time to time. Bella earned a new tittle. Fun! She made new friends and since they were her first, from that fateful day she considered them sisters. Sutton and Croella. While she had seen her little self in Sutton, Croella was the voice of sense. She had made the right choice. As a cautious girl Bella had always heeded the advice of careful choices in friends. And like the perfect match, these three envisioned to enjoy their happy promising life together.

But again life was joking. Sutton and Croella had gotten close and their friendship advanced. Since the two lived together, Bella thought it was inevitable but she never thought she would be side lined. As understanding as she was, she embraced the changes and resorted to blending with the two sisters regardless of the differences. But the more she tried the more her intentions were mistook. Sutton and Croella started to see her as a threat. They would throw tantrums and try so hard to make her feel unwanted. Bella never cared for attention but she received it regardless and this was her sisters’ weakness. The attention they craved so much always deviated to her. Bella was gullible and her trust in human goodness cost her dearly. Sutton started befriending people who knew Bella and as the sweet and manipulative being she was she got what she wanted. Now I know why the name had a ring to it. It was more of subtle and she was just living up to it. As much as Cruella was the voice of sense she could not control Sutton and so she supported her mission of antagonising Bella from her friends and people who asked about her. You would think Bella was blind but she chose to trust in their sisterhood and forgive all the meaningless drama her sisters had recoursed to.

Things had changed and life had taken a really drastic turn. Bella couldn’t take it anymore and she transformed into the picture they had painted her. A Malicious and conniving little being. Since the sisters had ganged up against her, she quoted her favourite animation character, Duffy Duck, from the Looney Tunes, “If you want things done right, do them yourself.” What had begun as friendship became a recourse for vendetta. Although Bella knew this was becoming her sisters a little voice kept pulling her to the dark side. She was tired of being good and burying hatchets. The voice finally took over and Bella Thorn was born.

Her plan was to serve a dose of her sisters’ medicine. She had learnt and she was prepared. With every dose she served, Bella never realised the symptoms were building up and she started suffering from the same diseases as her sisters. From a princess with the glass slipper she became the witch sisters. This only alienated her from them even more. They formed another gang by pitying themselves against her and preaching their plight of a sister gone rogue. Everyone believed but no one cared for the other side of the story. Bella had earned a third title. Scarletta!

Bella crossed the threshold and she did not realise how far down the gutter she had buried herself. She had served her plate cold but had soaked herself with filth. Time was running out for that imaginary saviour and drifting away, she heard the song in the background. It was coming from the café near where she had stood to find shelter. The end was approaching and she moved closer so she could listen more clearly. And there were the final missing words she had tried to remember all day.

“If I show you,

Then I know you, won’t tell what I said,

Because two can’t keep a secret

If one of them is dead.”

Bella sought satisfaction in the completed song and a rush she had once experienced seethed through her veins making her warm. She smiled to herself and even without realising that the rain was over, she looked to her right to find a perfect stranger standing beside her. She looked at him and smiled even more noticeably as a sense of relief escaped her exhausted, soaked body. Bella was far from home but it was the right time to go back. And then the stranger spoke. “Hi!”

ELASTIC HEART ON A DIRTY PLATE (the letter to her husband)

Dear future husband,
I hope this finds you well. For starters how are you in that glowing skin, strong body and angular framed face. Your eyes are my muse. I still visualize that rogue stare that puts me in place when i bring petty up and the strong arms you wrap around me when I’m slightly wrong. To fess up, I still see you in my dreams and truly I miss all of you. See, since you left, I have been around my little world wondering when you’ll come back and if you’ll ever return at all. I even asked God himself to intervene and not send anyone else from heaven street but oh well He delayed and in a moment of dire weakness I found myself even better. I’m sorry for letting you down like this but i promise to make it up to you once you show up. You still remember how goodyful this package used to come. It’s even better now. Back to the matters I took in my own hands. A while ago, I met these three tall and handsome guys, Tom, Dick and Harry in that order and before you think ill of me, each was at a different time and setting. These like their names suggest were good jokers. From their first word was my disappointment. At least my sign guardian came back to rub it in my face that, “I told you so. You should have read the signs.” Now I know even though I never get to meet Westlife we are forever connected. I mean I should have seen it coming! Tom was very playful. For some reason he gave me déjà vu. You remember that sentence our Primary English teacher always blurted, “Tom kicked the ball.” it’s happening even now he never stopped kicking balls. This made me love him even more. He had this warmth and familiarity that brought my young childhood days to life. I mean could you resist a charm who always thought you were the light God referred to, in the first day of creation? See, Tom always called me light. Sometimes I used to think he’d take it too seriously to think I could lit up a room when lights were out. Until lights went out and my light skin didn’t cast a ray on his humble bed sitter. This earned me a sudden broken heart and some severe weight loss. He said I was blonde and my light skin was a mere joke. He called me a liar for never telling him that I couldn’t produce light and I was just a girl. One thing I used to justify my time with him was that latter clause. I was just a girl. And so I redeemed myself and got over him. Playboy Tom had finally kicked this ball to the curb.

I collected myself gained a little weight changed my wardrobe and even promised to keep myself hood for you. But before I could focus on my bucket list which had replaced playful Tom, Dick came along. You see they can’t keep apart. They even share a line in my thoughts. But this is from my heart and so I should tell you all my sins to deserve your forgiveness. Dick was sweet and very addictive. I always found him to be quite an impeccable speck of a man. Strong, had this cute smile which he never shared and more importantly he also had the light skin. “Yeey! he can’t use that against me,” I said. Here,I had hit the jackpot pretty good!
Dick was a free soul. He never took anything too seriously. YO-LO were his cliché syllables and from my uptight self I detached to let in this new life. “Yolo! Yolo! Life is never too serious.” We were a force of power with optimism and the will to try and live it up to the fullest. Although Dick wasn’t rich and very thoughtful like you he still had his days. From time to time he would take me out to these random places and buy me food I would have never tried if not for him. Like there was this one time he was passing by my house at 10 p.m. and suggested we go for a date. I was a bit intrigued, reluctant but glad at the randomness of the idea. See there were food palaces just miles from where I lived but they had never matched up to my style. You know, like all the exotic places you promised to take me to once you returned. But I went along with his idea. After all, you know I live what I believe in. YOLO was the current faith. And so we arrived. There was this little shack that sold booze and other drinks to its customers. It wasn’t falling or anything but I had never liked the place even from afar. But my humble self, convinced me otherwise and after all from the entrance I could see other decent humans dancing and living it up. I was in the right place. From Dick’s short mottos in life, I heard, “Ladies first!” He was left behind chunking some sausages and samosas he had bought from the guy selling them at the door as I went in. He finally swallowed the last of it and cleaned his hands, of the dripping sauce and kachumbari with his shorts to catch up with me before I could look lost. See, Dick wasn’t tall like I tried to make him. But he was handsome and I liked that I could reach his head when I hugged him. In case you didn’t know I’m 5’1 though I said 5’4. But with how detail oriented you are, I know you must have realized and brushed it off. Dick also had this not so complicated body structure where his upper body almost matched his lower body: short limbs but strong like a footballer’s. One reason he liked wearing long shorts to show them legs off. He was really attractive.
You know I’m shy. And that would be the first time I would enter a club to dance with other people. And so he realised this about me and with no waste of time he took my hand and danced me to the beat. Wow it was ridik! While the rhythm was high he was low and I thought he always did that to make me laugh, but that was not true. At around 1p.m I requested to go to sleep and although reluctant, he managed to shout yes! amidst the noise from the music in the bar and the very curd he was chewing with some groundnuts.
He had drunk one too many to a point he borrowed me money to keep safe for a taxi when we would leave. But also this he used to buy another bottle and when he couldn’t afford to make himself wasted enough he spared the next Bluemoon to buy me a soda which I’ve always felt was soo sweet!!! We staggered our way till we reached his friends place (since it was near), where he knew exactly where to find everything. The room was haywire and as we entered we kicked around two or so sufurias which lied on the ground before he could switch on the lights and I found a place to stand. Morsels of dry food were on the kitchen counter as used packets of cigarettes lied on the floor. There was a sufuria under a table which seemed to have cooked ugali like a day ago but it was soaked in black water. I had seen enough. I felt a heavy burden of disappointment. Till now I have wondered was it from the date I had so happily accepted to go to only to end up in a bar? or was it this rabbit hole that marked our destination? I watched him as he moved some piled clothes from the bed to create some space so we could sleep. “Enough!” I snapped and asked him to take me to my place. Dick didn’t take this seriously and so I refused to lie down and asked him to take me to my place. For a drunken man he sobered up really fast. His eyes changed to red and he gave me this danger eye; not like yours in any bit but it had my heart skip some beats. He turned around and took a knife and declared to stab himself if I dared walked out. He must have sensed we were broken because he pinned me down and threatened to cut his stomach open in case I left. Dick and drama. Finally he had lived up to his name and I laid down in fear of having a mother’s son take his life.
Dawn couldn’t approach any fast. I sneaked out and motor biked to my place. Gosh! I believed in a long night. That’s how I cut contact with Dick who after a while made it a habit to frequent to my house in the middle of the night, just to cry out his apologies and ask me to take him back. It was later that I realized that even as we were dating Dick had a girlfriend in the same apartment I lived in, just one floor below. Again lady sign was right, or was it intuition that made me cut ties regardless, I was happy Dick was out of my life.

And there came hurry oops! I meant Harry. Harry was from that band One direction picture perfect. Cool haircuts, refined style, a gentleman in his own way and a good cook. He had some problems expressing his emotions and coming up with out of this world lines like Alejandro No! I mean you, but I always thought if I could express more, he would come around. His eyes always gave me a sink in my stomach. See, although Harry styles had two lovely eyes they never looked at me in a loving way. His stare was always cold and calculated. That’s how he was created, I would say to myself until I believed it. Issues with Harry’s cold stare went right out the door.
Harry had a sense of style and sophistication. This we had in common and even though we met in a hopeless place which was Tinder, he was not hopeless at all. He had all the makings of a classy man. This I knew from the house ware he had bought to liven his house. From how carefully he handled his delicate items, it was beautiful. To top it all Harry was really hygienic. Always rinsing utensils before use and cleaning up after we had dinner. Harry was just too good to be true and lady sign came knocking making sure his flaws hurried to the surface. This was before I could embarrass myself and as usual announce to my friends that, “He was the one.” Harry had no respect for women and neither did he hide it in his miscommunication. He was oddly high tempered but always made sure to pray every now and then. I liked this about him but doubted if he ever talked nice to God to help him liven up. He had sadness in his heart which as always I thought I could help him get rid of, so we could enjoy the love I visioned him so capable of. Harry was no easy target. He was blonde too. Light skinned and humor intolerant. He didn’t have the stomach for sarcasm and once he took it literally, words would beg not to be used. This had always got me wishing we were in the same class in high school to devour “Shreds of Tenderness.” Harry just like Odie a character in this book would have had a good life once he learnt to see good and lose the attitude. Harry was not a sweet sin. He feared commitment and responsibilities like paying for my cab money but expected me to show up at his door every once in a while, he faked sweet. Harry was obsessed with social media too. Why he had not followed me back on Instagram but had, other girls was the root of our break up. Harry was a good chap but love and friendship were semantics to him. I loved Harry styles but before I could get addicted to the pain I Taylored swiftly out of his life and he too was gone. Tom, Dick and Harry had met but never knew they did. On this dirty plate laid my heart.
Yours loving,
Elastic Heart.

Fresha’s chronicles (part 1)

Since I was young I’ve always had the knack for beautiful things. That was 22 years ago born very white and innocent. As I was told by my mum immediately my grandmother laid her eyes on me she named me Gatune. In my mother tongue this meant the brown girl and since then I’ve lived up to the name. My birth name Lynda Chalker, being named after the then baroness of England has always messed up my mind to think I’m royalty and English, which has also often been replaced by mzungu and white girl as my friends like to call me. I don’t blame them, but my sweet late grandmother who always saw me and my coat as the embodiment of pureness, after all I’m white right? Since then I’ve grown to adapt and embrace any name that signified so irregardless of the language. Before I lead you astray I’m not complaining. See, being light skinned as people blurt and having rangi ya pesa as it’s often regarded can make you supernatural. Actually it makes you so.

 

Being a college student has taken this light skinned through a rollercoaster. In high school I only had one goal get good grades, join a good university, (of course I pictured myself being la crème de la crème) and pursue a career in Media and Journalism. That’s one too many? Okay, moving on. Well I got good grades thanks to the Almighty and I joined Moi university to pursue… BA Now this acronym was the mother of all. It had folks in your case like did you just get admitted to a university to take a general course? What exactly will you be studying to be? Where will you work? Are you going to study  everything? They couldn’t end.

This happened, after revising but failing to submit my career choices online. Fresh men are familiar with this feeling from friends and folks whose series of question tend to end with, “what are you going to pursue then since you’ve managed to join the university.” That’s when you start getting the hint that adulthood is a trap. Why did  I have to figure all this on my own? And in case you lack the pleasure of doing so it’s decided for you. You know parents with decision making and  right choices…. In short the level of anxiety is usually on another level. But I’m blonde so I comforted myself with the saying, things happen for a reason and I embraced my career choice linguistics; after all it was in line with language and I’m a lover of languages.

 

I reported to the university on 29th October 2012. This was a really memorable day. Having  never been to Eldoret and together with my mother surviving the horror of going through Nairobi’s country bus station to secure a bus which was to pass via Eldoret to Kisumu meaning we had to alight immediately we ‘sensed’ we were near Moi university main campus. As you know buses don’t carry tauts. And this one we travelled in was special. Filled to capacity with every type of traveller from business men to young guys wearing really rugged clothes, don’t get it twisted I mean rugged, ripped, torn in the ‘bad’ kind of way-clothes. The noise was also competing with the tornado of stench engulfing the bus. Seated right in front of the back seats the high jumps I covered through that journey could’ve silenced my primary teacher who thought I was never active enough. At the left back corner a baby had been crying technically since we met. Taking just a few seconds of nap after being fed tea from a small thermos which was erected carefully along the pathway, would keep her nourished before the noise from the arguing loud men awoke her and her screams would be diminished by them.

 

We reached Eldoret at 2 a.m leaving the chaos and the friends we made to travel the rest of the journey safely. For a moment I couldn’t hear myself from the dust, the noise and the cold we had endured throughout that night. Just before I could turn  the bus hooted as it left scattering dust particles in the air and my eardrum opened. One thing I thanked that bus for.

We decided to wait till the sun came out for us to proceed with the journey to the university. We had to wait out cold at an open hotel since all guest houses had been occupied and that was the only opened place at the time. The land was cold and the air freezing. Silence and pitch darkness characterized the town. Coming from Nairobi this was culture shock. In towns people never sleep. Eldoret was unique. I remember feeling this great relief from seeing how the town was quiet and small, compared to the city, less skyscrapers and plenty of vegetation. Serenity is my downfall. And Eldoret city was my muse.

With the help of the friendly inhabitants we were on our way from Eldoret town to this vast university. That journey took two hours only. On reaching we headed straight to my School since there were rumours going around that the queues on such particular days never end. Since the early bird catches the worm we went right ahead. That’s when we saw this crowd being addressed by a tall man. I heard he was being called the dean and from the looks of it he was trying to calm people down and reason out with them. Parents, children, us students, relatives everyone was representing. Some families just like in a feast, all members present.

 

The rumor was true. The opening date was being pushed to the coming week. This was from a memo released the previous day as people were travelling and people really came out voice high. Everyone wanted to be heard of the expenses, the exhaustion from the long journey but none mentioned they were tired of grown people chillaxing at home waiting to go to the university. This dean had to listen! And so he authorized for every freshman to get signed in officially but accommodation wise every man was for himself. Later, a directive was given to housekeepers to settle in all first years and give them a temporary place to stay.

Lady luck was on my side. I had a friend living in the schools’ guest houses which are usually occupied by international students from outside Kenya. After all the janitor couldn’t tell I’m not international. I’m white, another said yellow but I look pretty damn international, they said. Life was good and I thought this is how our hostels would be like. Clean, hot showers, a kitchen, and privacy, basically a home.

 

I was getting used to it. Week after, well that too came to an end after the supposed official date for signing in students came and everyone was expected to secure themselves a room. The coveted hostel among girls was K, said to be clean and Kileleshwa in every way, I eyed it. Too bad in my green form I had chosen J. This hostel was near ‘Soweto’ in every sense of that word. So i settled. Rock bottom had a basement. I still had to fight my way through the fighting queue to pick a key from the housekeeper. At the time I had the spirit, tiny but full of spirit. Plus some people had the common courtesy of letting me through from thinking I looked so white and delicate subjected under too much pressure, I may tear. Well I got a room a nice roommate who later revealed to me that at first, after seeing me she didn’t think I was real. Reason she came back a week later. And so did friends of a guy friend I made think. What was it again, ahuh! They thought i was a genie. Tiny and very white. I remember him disclosing this after I had faked to be able to read people’s ora and character just from a glance This had him in check. Men, i had tricks. I couldn’t wait to begin the adventures of campus. This was just the beginning of life as a light skinned. Super natural.