Guilty Love.

You know it's a dream, a life every lady desires for, but the end doesn't justify the means always. Now you get to understand the most unthinkable things in life, like why do roosters wake up and start to scream?

I quickly dropped that," ah, so why do they do that by the way" text, you know the casual ones when chatting, and now you have to put on hold a long text just because of a random out-of-topic in-between text but she responded with a voice note.

I figured they too are afraid, and they call on each other to remind themselves of, yeah, we have a loving human family, but today might be the last day if they get excited and decide to celebrate. So good morning, my neighbours! They live in a continual state of terror, and in the evening, they are tired out. They can't even believe they made it, so they jump in silently and wait to shout the following morning. It's not always about Time, like seriously, they don't have a clock or something, and sometimes you'll hear them scream at random hours like midnight at such, they just had a nightmare and can't help but scream, why would they be reminding each other of time, it's not like they'll be late for work.

I used to envy women in marriages with drunkards or even cheaters. At least you know he'll be back if he's descent enough and know his maxima, or you'll go collect him in a ditch somewhere in the morning. Maybe his buddies will drop him after he shits himself and can't walk, or you know the local keg joint to find him in, or when the heat wanes he will be back, away from the arms of the mistress if lucky, healthy but with a bunch of his miniatures who at least you get to face off with when he's gone. Still, yes, he's your man, and you know what he's into. You don't know what it's like to be waking up to a house full of random new stuff in the morning, from TVs to fridges to dildos, plate-less cars in the parking lot, and you can't raise a concern or say a word about it to a soul. It’s hell, he leaves at night and is back early down sometimes with blood-stained clothes. It's hell, and the devil you know is not always better than the angel you don't.

 By now, texting was too much work, more of voice notes, and with each, I could feel the pain though long gone, just not shirked with which she recounts to me her past life. She's the kind of woman I call a warrior. Unfortunately, you have to notice such powers after their agony.

We met in my final year on we were at a friend's party he was with a friend of mine but I had never seen him. He was a very cool guy, charismatic, handsome with a flat chin and some majestic sideburns. You get to see white teeth with a dimple if you get him to smile deep. You know I used to see it a lot, am amazing and he loved me. He had this movie star lean body, unlike Mr Bean or Rambo, more of Kevin-heart minus the height and the cheekiness, more of Michael b Jordan. But the always relaxed, manly stature he has, you fall for him. He scents masculinity. We started seeing each other after a while, and shortly, I was at his place on the weekend washing some classy bed sheets

then later tuning on Telenovela on a 64inch TV. He seemed like the kind of putrid mama's boy. I loved him and didn't care to ask more about the lifestyle, not a "yes, I'm rich, I must be seen the kind of.” I was also having a hard time, when you hit that 3rd year, your pillar of strength (parents) assumes that now you are working just oozing cash. He used to finance my lifestyle and even more gave me a little paradise.

I got pregnant with his child in my final semester. I managed to finish before the little man came out, my firstborn son. I suppose your favourite, he likes you, and you know he’s always talking about you.

Come one, who doesn't enjoy being around sunlight? Oh vampires, is he one?

Sometimes I'm scared he might end up like the father and it breaks my heart, I hope there's nothing like thief-gene, and he inherited it. I love when you spend time with him, maybe he'll be different. They say start them young!

So after my final paper, he proposed that I should move in with him, he even went and met with my mother. Sometimes, I blame her for never opening my eyes. I always imagine she saw something out of place with him, but you know destitution, the guy changed her life, bathed her with money and a new kitenge from the coast every phone call, the one with funny writings like “dera Bila tako..", she was lost. We stayed in Makadara for a while, and things started getting cold after I delivered. We moved to Narok. He had built a home, he was 33 now, a home fully furnished with a big garage. The house had everything one could wish, of course, me being from the village, from baby bathtubs to a majestic master bedroom. Life was okay, a dream life every lady wants. I needed not to work, he wouldn't allow it, I understood him for the first year, I was still recuperating and bringing up our new young man. Everything was ok. I had an account that he used to give me something to drop on every week, a good amount, why would I look for a job with a bachelor’s degree inRrecord_keeping?

Having it all sometimes if you are not keen, is like masturbation, it gets you sorted but takes you away from the facts of life. No moment since we moved in together did I ask about his source of income. He's a cool guy, charming, so I figured he's into business. He had a degree in economics and I had everything I needed brother, everything, and whenever in need, I just had to mention it, and Boom, served. We had a car, but I wasn't into driving, so I had a lifetime subscription for Taxis, pick a location, and they'll be streaming, be it going to see mum at the village, a whole Toyota_Wish for me and the little man and the driver would come to pick us back. I wasn't more into shopping just made a list, and everything would be delivered to my doorstep. Even my hairdresser used to come home to do my hair. I had a little gym in the house, or I would go for short runs in the evening with my cat. He didn't like dogs, he said they made people human, whatever that meant.

So after a while, some neighbors moved in around, I had a boring rich life, so new life around I decided to make some friends with the woman. He never liked the idea, and he'd always inquire what business I had with them and if there was anything I needed from them. So things started to seem off, he was so much into my life, that he didn’t want me to make friends. He decreed the kind of interactions we had. He was concealing something, but he was my man, a sufficient provider, I don't even remember praying man, what do you ask for when you have everything from hospital insurance to the gym, maybe pray for protection that a fish bone doesn't choke you to death, well we ate good fish, few bones with thick haze.

So one evening chatting with a friend, over fences, I had a phone, but what was the need I lost all my friends; I wasn't in touch with them. So the lady asked if sometimes I get scared of what my husband does for a living. It got my head spinning; it was a wake-up call. I hesitated for a minute but hit back with "hio ni mambo ya watu tu" I wish I knew better. I started getting curious, by now he was working at night, he’d sleep the whole day, and make random calls with some friends I hardly met. I was okay with him working at night, but now things start getting off, I would wake up to a room full of new stuff, his garage was full of the same, and sometimes a random plate-less car in the driveway will be gone after a day or so. One day, I asked, what he did for a living, something I should have never done. I saw his claws for the first time, the beautiful face was now a demon, and the angel I knew was now a demon. 

Is there anything you missing or that I have never provided? If not, then stay out of my business.

That's how you sell your peace, my friend, my life was never the same again, I couldn't sleep at night when he was away, and I started listening to the radio, seeing him differently. He was no one I used to know, a total stranger, not the devil I knew and was in love with. I once thought of moving out, and lucky enough, that day was the first time I saw a gun in real life; I was used to seeing it in movies, I could feel blood rush through my veins, and I've never been scared. I could see him hunting me down like in the movies after "gentle, I'm going to look for you, and I’ll find you, then I'll kill you call.” 

One morning he came in quite disordered, something horrible must have happened, I figured. He had blood-stained clothes that he threw in the trash can and went to sleep without saying a word to his son. It was human blood, there’s just something about human blood you just can tell from any other. Later that day, listening to the radio on my earphones is when my world came to light. Police had gunned down a gang and managed to down two while two got away just in the neighboring town. The gang had been terrorizing people around and even hideous murders and carjacking. I was in pain, not for what the victims went through, but for the life id been living lavishly on other pain and sorrow, I think. 

But I was loved. Men can go to the dungeons of this earth to give you that life you deserve, he did. I had a fat bank account, with millions, a cute son, and a life in which I needed nothing. I had a good sex life, boy that meat was majestic. A perfect life, I say. But was he doing this for me, or was he just a criminal? Was this a test of my loyalty? Was I willing to go down with him? No, I have a son! I figured maybe his best friend was caught up in the fire. The blood on his clothes was his as he tried to save him, applying pressure to his bullet wounds, like in the movies, but his soul left, and he couldn't believe it crying, “noooo, don't do this, brother, don't go, you have a daughter bro, huff huff huff trying to give him a CPR, but he's gone.” Now he was in pain, waiting for that moment o " it’s about time they pay,” He’ll jump out of bed, put on his jacket, carry a big black bag, and go kill some sons of b*tches!

I couldn't take it, man, I left the house as he was asleep, and took my son with me. I went straight to the police station and told them I thought I might know the whereabouts of someone of interest, he fitted their description luckily for I had my finger crossed. What if he turns out to be just a butcher working on nightshift for a meat Exportation Company? I had called the cops on him, how would I live with him after that even though they promised to hide my identity? Of course, it was easy we were never legally married, we had no connection, not even pictures together funny enough, and I have his, though. Who in this world doesn't have random pictures of their better half, one day I’ll show his son.

Things got heated when the cops stormed the house. They found him at his lowest, he thwarted arrest and was gunned down as he tried to run, and died in his home as I was in the police station. I cried, I did, but I had no connection with him, I had just met him a month. How do you justify living with a criminal for a year plus and not being an accomplice? I had a way out, at least for my son, it wasn't a ditch worth going in. Luckily, I got away with everything, thanks to our messed-up justice system. He was just another thief gunned down, and now the streets could leave happily. I later learned from the police reports he was from Rwanda; he had been lying that he was an orphan and made his way top. Man, that face and that life you believe can even snails can fly is he says so.

 I later sold the house and bought my current one in Nyayo estate. My son is okay. I run a couple of businesses in the city. I don't know if I want to get married; I can't imagine living with someone. I can’t help but see it turn to hell again. I have a son, and I get random safe services whenever I feel like a woman, so I don't think I'll need a man. My son can learn from you.  You're not a criminal pretending to be a saint, are you? Hahaha.

I'm kidding, I can smell even a pen thief a mile away, the beauty of the practical experience.

Sometimes when I look at my son, you know he's more of him, from the smile-triggered dimple to the flat chin and cool ever relaxed mode. When the time comes, and he asks about his father, will I manage to look him in the eye and tell him that his father was a criminal, a hardworking boyfriend, who gave me perfect life from the sweat of others with a gun, he might even have robbed life out of them at some point. What if he asks whether he will be a thief too, father-son? How will I tell him that his father is dead because of me? My price for loyalty was his father's life. I gave him away because I couldn't just contain a little self-guilt. His blood is on my hands, will he ever look at me the same?

Anyways, I'll cross that bridge when I get to that river. For now, let me try my best and ensure he turns out to be anything like him.

:I dozed off at some point; the voice notes were overwhelmingly too much and long. I couldn’t reply lest wake up those dreadful feelings I had aroused the previous evening but she closed with a long text.

"I wish one day younger to tell your friends or readers, particularly ladies, that it's not gold alone that glitters, glass can do the same and end up cutting you if you are not cautious enough. Whatever comes easy has a price, and never gets carried by the moment. Open your eyes and know what you are into. Your peace isn't worth any lifestyle that you should pay for with your mental calmness. Be cool with life; earn yours.

To the guys, just be cool with life, you can it all, but it won't last long enough if you never genuinely earned it, and you'll never enjoy it. Go easy, don’t do crazy stuff to please anyone, not even your wife or kid or family, you are worth more alive and present." My life story is clear enough that shortcuts come at a cost, a true one!

Please take it easy, champion, you'll get there, true wealth is peace of mind...