Just a Slip.
I had already figured she'd be seated at a corner, so when I popped in at club-viro, a little bit late from the normal Mombasa Road hell on Fridays, and went straight to her because she's the first thing I spotted, Okay, the bouncers, she was the second. A bouncer with wing-like arms ready to take off from some manly boobs in some tight kitenge shirt, I used to think this guy only do under_armor stuff or Niky, some tight athlete like wear, but anyways he was the type of guy you hit and run that is if you manage to hit because if he gets hold of you, just an arm is enough for you to tell the capital city of Nairobi.
She was busy on her phone steering at some dark dude with some Whiter than white teeth, like the type you notice first before realizing they are mounted on some being, not like the athletic ones, you know from the rift. For a minute, I was curious, so I stood there; she still didn't notice someone was standing, so I peeped in.
It was a challenge.
Try not to laugh one’, so the guy stares at you, making some weird crazy smiles, and you must not laugh. Like you must not enjoy succeeding, sounds like your life, huh! Anyways I couldn't hold it. I cracked a heavy one. She was still holding her as she turned to wing her fake smile, but she's cute; she does it well. You can confuse it with some angelic stuff.
The village in me, of course, didn't disappoint, and my hand was already in a hurry for that;
"Shake my hand!”
But I got hold of it and spread it wide for a warm embrace. She's quite a hugger. So it took some seconds. Deep down, I could feel the cold soul wrapping me, so I let it hold. Not my thing, though. I want to shake the hand ruthlessly and vigorously. I want to bring you to life. So no time for fake smiles.
I asked as I pulled my seat, why she was hard on that guy, yet he was just trying to make her smile.
I know you like winning but then, why be hard on smiling?
She's been trying lots of them, and apparently, none is working so far; she's been winning all along. Genuinely, unlike in a competition form, she sincerely wants to smile and laugh, but it's not coming out. Nothing excites her anymore, and when she had my invite, just the two of us, she was on cloud nine, yeah cold still but high.
You tell me how cold that is!
She's trying to stay clean. I didn't believe it at first. But there she was, seated with some lemon water, no life, just her with her stony heart and chilly face. She took a sip and removed her hoodie. The cool evening breeze was already kicking in as we waited for the choma to arrive. It was taking too long. I even imagine they were still searching for the goat. Anyway, she kicked in.
How have you been, man?
You know me, always good—young, handsome, talented, healthy, of course. I've reduced my wheat intake; I now only do chapattis and, you know, only once or twice a month. I mean real chapattis, not the vest curtain-like structure at the locals.
How have you been?
One question maybe I was never ready to listen to the response but tell you what, maybe it was with it, maybe I was the antidepressant she'd been looking for, the last stop to down her logs. And I could see her trying to hold her tears, the pain she was holding inside.
It's been a month or so since I last saw her, I'm Not excellent at memorizing things, especially sad things, and the last time, she was quite a mess. Let me put it this way. Her hair wasn't done! Is that bad enough!
Before moving to her friend's place, she needed a place to pirate for a night. The friend had a guest, and you know better adults stuff, it's gross to think or see people doing " tabia mbaya". So we spent much of the night talking, mostly her crying, and I had that " wah, so utadoo?" After every pause she made, it just didn't come out loud. As a man, I knew I only needed to listen, not advice, so once in a while, I would give that node and then throw some "it's okay, I am sure something will come through."
If I was asked for advice, I had none to be sincere, so technically, not Man, and that "utadoo" was the best. I felt helpless as a man, not knowing what direction I could advise her on. Anyways she dozed off, after enough tears and woke up the following morning to a cold bath, then some fire sweet potatoes and black coffee, last I saw her.
We've been talking online mostly, and some few calls. I hadn't seen her, so I expected her tummy to be like an inch forward, the mweheshimiwa type. Some few months ago, still not sure with my when, haha, genius tendencies hizi.
The angel of madness and all the worst you can wish for paid her a visit. The Mr.man didn't pull out on time, and some little swimmers made their way to the deep end, and you know the safety and stuff of diving in the deep end. She got some cups, drank some litter, and her belly started showing.
She had not yet spoken to the Mr.man about it but did with the sister and mother, and things didn't turn out well. The mother was the religious one, the;
What have you done in the name of the son of the carpenter? What will the church think of this family? You've brought shame to this family, and to make things worse, okay, good, it's angel's work. The father heard the mother cry and care loudly for the congregation's thoughts, which was not supposed to happen. He only opened his mouth to roar; I never want to see you. And that was all, that's the last time she saw her family or heard from them.
So she's been staying with her friend at Tasia, the Mr.man went MIA, she was determined to see her life with the beauty she'd deliver through. She had left school and got a job as a baking assistant at a local outlet, thanks to her blessed baking hands, talk of perfect chapatti, dzam!
With covid, things got tight, and she was laid off. With all that stress, she had a miscarriage just a week after the layoff. I remember she'd been dead silent. When I called, she decided we meet up and talk. She had met a married guy who had been footing some of her bills in exchange for warmth and pseudo-love, but just a few weeks earlier, the married guy remembered he had a wife and a family, so she was on her own. She still hadn't talked to the family and told me that her mother tried calling, but she was still in pain and never responded to her sisters as well.
Our nyamachoma came, and we started giving the due respect it deserved, but I could notice there was no life in her. I know her face when she sees nyamchom. Now the mood was even cooler than the weather amid loud music, crazy arguing drunkards, and some drunk bros exchanging the " you know I love you, man, you my bro," gross!
I was in the same spot I'd been on our last encounter, unable to shake off the sullen shell she was in, with no idea what to tell her. So I decided I would listen, not being an urban pacemaker or some wizard with some powers to transmute the sullen hut she was in.
so I gnawed the meat like, yes! We were going to fight through this. It's just a life update. I wish she could read my mind, and I'm sure it's the thing when you hit rock bottom, there's no Other way but up because I have a feeling she did.
Her friend was flying to Dubai; she had gotten some gigs as a house help, so she was planning on leaving everything in the house because she had no plans to return anytime soon until she had made enough. At times it makes me wonder what's enough with all the crazy life in the middle east I read about, but I hope she's the lucky one.
She sold some of the stuff she didn't need in the house, like a TV and microwave, and used the cash to hold her rent at least for two months. She is always the smart one, and shit happens in life not because you are smart of Swazi. With some spare cash, she bought some self-coaching books and an economic one. So she was sorted; I had brought her some African touch by W. Soyinka and T.Huchu. She was now looking for something to work with. Maybe the angel was done with her this time. I had just met a friend who had offered to teach me some writing, a very lucrative one if it works for you. So I immediately called the guy as soon as the thought hit, and Man to Man, he owed me one; yeah, it works that way, haha.
I was well packed, so I dished out some chums to her for two weeks or so, I don't know. But I was sure life had given her a good kick, so she would never bend again carelessly. I later connected her with my buddy, and some few weeks later, she was doing stuff I couldn't even do in a quarter time; damn tough time, just don't wish for ones to be good though. I met her this year, and what is life. My buddy also disappeared, and it's now that I was hearing from him. They are in love!
I wasn't surprised, though. I’ve always wanted to see her happy and if being in love with him made her so, then I was okay.
I was also sure she's had enough, so must be careful this time. She had moved to Utawala, with good houses, relatively cheap, with a good network. She is more indoors, and she's been saving enough to resume studies next academic year, with some support from her Man. Her mum reached out after she had sent the fam that chased her out chums to get a new dress on her birthday and an extra for some shopping in the house. Everything beautiful starts with trying and wishing her the best of luck.
Whenever I see her text, I think of what life and the ditches it throws one in at times, and it's only for you to get yourself together, Man up, and keep on pushing, for, amid all craziness, it still gives you some light. We all mess, and when you can't go back, you have to keep on pushing. At the end of it all, you must keep clapping for yourself when no one does, but the weight of it can't be ignored. Be that light; don't judge, but give a hand where you can. You never know who will live to hold it to you for the smile on their face.
Comments
Post a Comment