After the Valentine Story

Remember the plastic flower, the homemade card, the bodaboda delivery, the milk like liquor and the Cadbury chocolates? If you do then you probably can tell where we are headed with this, if not maybe you need to revisit ‘The Valentine Story’ for catch up. Well, now that we all are on the same page, we know that the valentine story didn’t close, we were to start the other phase at midnight, in a bar’s bathroom.

Calls have been made, most don’t seem promising, looks like everybody always has an excuse. This has to happen, if it doesn’t this might just be the biggest false start of the 21st century. Help comes though too late for dinner but at least the thought shall count, or so they put it. Here comes the next phase…


Source: pixbay

He walks in, a bit late but not too late, but oh well, late is late, with an excuse of course “The guards held me at the gate for a while, I should have been here on time.” He is in a brown stripped shirt. The buttons are all done, save for the last one at the collar, on a normal day one or two more would be undone but this occasion called for ‘looking the part’. He comes in with a lot of expectation. “This has to be it”, he thinks to himself, it can’t get any better, and just like it was before “Life Happened” the only direction was North, South would mean going back to Egypt. Who wants to cross the Red Sea again yet you can’t be sure of finding Moses at the crossing point, to part the waters?

The first three months are great, not so for him, he feels like he’s only been tickling, but she insists he has been satisfactory, she even mentions moments when he has been better than those who went before. The comparison should anger him but not in the way that she puts it, at least not now that he is holding to insecurities. He just promises self to keep up and even grow better, he knows there is a gap in his performance.

He is now six months in, and reality starts to check in, and it sure does like a sponsor checks into a bar, ready to throw rounds. Signs indicate that he might get through with this, but as it looks it won’t be smooth sailing, there is a battle to be fought. He remembers ‘The First’ in “Thoughts of a lone drinker” once lied that scientists have proven that if you go past this sixth month, you are bound for eternity. (Things people create in their heads when in love, SMH!). This was of course a lie; he actually knows of one whose life changed for worse at the sixth.

He managed to ace the battle at the sixth, but the news at the eighth comes as a shock, she has decided to leave, life has enough, this isn’t one she was willing to take on. She non ashamedly says it in the company of two others. By this time, he wished he’d listened to Reuben Staddurd’s ‘Change Me’ keenly. He’d like to fork out Avant’s ‘4 Minutes’ but even that can’t save the situation, he is already at half of four. He is in love alone.

It’s three and a half months of ‘loneness‘, take note of ‘loneness’ and not loneliness, because all seems to be working fine, and if anything this is a moment of shine for him. Then they try a ‘make up’, it seems forced but he chooses to give it a try, only to realize it is worse than the first. No matter how hard he tries, the sins of the past remain a ghost, when it falls at half of four again, he figures out it is time, and this time he isn’t willing to let them walk out on him again, he has to act first and fast.

Tomorrow is yet another valentine’s day, in less than a week, he walks out….

Then life happens…

It’s a good year, if anything anyone that might have wished love and beauty during the New Year festivities must have done it right. It was a year characterized by new, beautiful, flowery and joy. New relationships, career advancement, new friends, financial breakthrough, it seemed like everything was falling into place, then life happened…

She walks in and one would swear she was the one, her eyes spoke of the future, her smiles swallowed all the pain the past came with. She was everything a man would look for, an intelligent trophy that was pleasant to not only look at but also listen to. Her company was everything, the rest were thrown to the periphery, then life happened…

She was the epitome of convenience, a beauty with the voice of a beast, her name was actually ‘The Beastly Beauty’. She drove and rode fine, got everyone where they needed to be. Her needs were always first on the budget list, everything else could wait. She was protective and protective in a good way, she protected from potential injuries enough times, then life happened…

It’s all fun and play, a night out every so often, road trips every once in a while. Known to many attendants, his parking and sitting spots were reserved. He was the ‘mzito’ in a lean body. Everyone wanted to be associated with him, at least he looked like he’d pass for ‘Money Bags’, he threw rounds and was ever sufficiently philanthropic, then life happened…

Stars don’t shine brighter than he did, he was a darling to almost all. Everyone loved what he did, diligent and always willing to go beyond call of duty. Nobody would have imagined a task without him. He was the savior and in him you’d be sure God Manifests Himself through human beings. A promotion here, a counter offer there, the only way to go was North, South was slowly fading off his vocabulary, then life happened…

He was of good health, if anything he hadn’t used his Medical Insurance for the two and a half years he had been there. He couldn’t remember the last time he needed to request for sick leave. He had a permanent phrase in his morning prayer; “Thank you God for good health”. Hospitals were buildings he stared at while waiting for traffic to move, then life happened…

…she got up one day and said she was fed up, no solid reason, she just wanted out, all she said sounded like excuses, it made no sense at all. Life had happened!

… in her quest to always drive fine she called for a fist fight, she was doing well, didn’t look like anyone was about to beat her, or maybe they just let her win, which she never did, she drove straight into a ditch. Life had happened!

… fun and play turned into a problem, it just bordered addiction, money had to be dug from unthinkable sources to maintain the status. Rounds slowly turned into empty fridges and hungry nights. Company started disappearing into thin air. Life had happened!

…the star started dimming, the sky started clouding, concentration was lost, even judgement was clouded at this point. Everything he set his hands on turned worthless, he couldn’t understand it, a star couldn’t just fall so suddenly. Excellent performance turned into disciplinary cases. Life had happened!

…the doctor sat across the desk, he needed a next of kin. The news wasn’t pleasant. Life had happened!

When Life happens, you have to keep going, because you can’t separate life from being. It happens and happens at the most unexpected moments. Just when you think you have it figured out, you realize humility is actually a virtue. You have to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel, once in a while you will come across the light bulb in the middle of the tunnel, but you have to hold on to hope because life happens…

My suicide note

Growing up, we knew the solutions to life challenges were in parents, mum had solutions to all the bullies out in the play field. We’d always run back to them when we couldn’t face these ‘stronger’ beings out there. Dad had solutions to everything we needed that we couldn’t have. He held the keys to all permissions, and all matters financial. We even hoped he would get us a jet when we thought we needed one, forget the fact that he couldn’t afford a jalopy. But I hoped and believed that all my problems had capable people to take care of them.

When we moved a notch higher, the teacher had solutions to all life problems. Finding that ‘x’ in a math problem would be trouble, but I always stood, watched and marveled as the teacher went about finding the solution to it. It always looked like ‘abracadabra’ and it still does to date. I have never been a numbers person, if anything I have a phobia for numbers. But somehow the teacher had a solution and temporarily made me understand, even if just till after I had sat my exams even when it was that complex mole concept.

At some point I thought education would be a solution to everything, and I worked hard to ensure I achieved that which I thought was the panacea to life problems. The perception that all hardships would drift away with the attainment of education, that a career would bring satisfaction and money in turn would bring joy. And I sat through school, not the best in class but among the top cream through all stages. God even gave me a job on the very day I sat my last undergraduate exams, just to make sure I don’t experience the tarmacking phase. And a great career it has been that has grown steadily in the last three and a half years.

I know this will sound suicidal, crazy, insane, the best of my friends will say I have lost it, and trust me these are friends who have my best interests at heart, the ones I will not part ways with even when we owe each other millions. But time has come for me to kill life, to kill pleasure, commit the gravest mistake according to earthly standards and start a ‘boring’ journey with Him. Turn to the parent of all parents, the teacher of all teachers, in a stage called re-evaluation, because all other solutions have proved to be blank stares at the roof when you have nothing to write on the exam sheet.



They keep him up all night, they remind him of his failures through the day, they point out the instances he would have done better. He can’t sleep, the voices won’t let him. Some are laughing at him, others keep speaking with him. He doesn’t know where they come from or who they belong to. He can’t figure out how many they are and isn’t sure whether among them is the ‘voice of truth’ and the inner voice. He wishes he could identify at least one. He knows it would have been better if it were the bleating of the sheep he is supposed to be counting.

They get him out of bed at 5am, it’s not a day he would have willingly wanted to be up at this time. He has to snooze for an hour on a normal day why be up this early on a free day. They remind him of the many tasks ahead that he needs to work on, the unfinished business. They forecasts the calls and texts he will be getting through the day, those he won’t have answers to, not because he doesn’t want to answer but because circumstances never provided answers. He knows it would have been better if it were the sound of his alarm getting him out of bed.

They follow him to the bathroom. He can’t hear his toothbrush rubbing on his teeth. They are now too loud. They remind him of the worry, they take him back to when it all started and give him a step by step account of how deteriorating this has become. At some point one gives him hope, gives him a smile, but that doesn’t last long, because it is his own voice just not loud enough for anyone else other than him to hear. It would have been better if it were the sound of water out of the shower.

They follow him on commute to work. He would be planning on a normal day, maybe budgeting during this time, smiling at the thought of spending the day with great colleagues. It can’t happen, not with the voices that remind him of misery, not with the voices that speak inadequacy, not with the uncertainty that comes with listening to them. It all started at the point where all was supposed to be rosy, but to get to the rose he had to go through a thorny stalk. It would have been better if it were the honks from others on the road.

They sit with him in the office, it almost feels like all his colleagues have are voices. They tell him this isn’t right. They tell him this is not what he was cut for. They tell him he jumped in a bit too early, maybe he shouldn’t have considered it at all. All moves, one after the other, each seems to drive him deeper into the woods closer to the monster. Every opportunity that appears to be helpful turns into a greater tangle in this maze. It would have been better if it were the sound of his keyboard as he goes through his days’ work.

They get him out of his evening nap, actually the startle him. The sound of the barrier makes him think they are coming for him finally, the adult voices sound like they are scheming. It seems like he may never find the rest he thinks he deserves, the peace of mind and heart he religiously asks God for. He wishes it was the sound of the innocent children playing after a long day, the child he wishes he would go back into every day.

Voices…they only speak trouble, worry, inadequacy, uncertainty. It would have been better if it were the voice of truth, the voice of hope, the voice of assurance.

Living a wish… to leave…

I wish I had an answer why it takes this long to pull my tiny body out of bed, not because I snoozed, no, because the knee couldn’t let me. Because my feet got too stiff to even fold at the joints. I wish I had an answer why the migraines are this strong. I wish I had an answer why it takes forever to walk from the parking lot to the office. I wish I had an answer to why everyone looks at me as I walk, why the guards won’t bother frisking me when I enter the mall. I wish I had an answer to what happened…

I wish I had an answer to why I started growing inversely, to the question that each classmate in campus asks me. I wish I had an answer to why I am half the size I was three and a half years back. I wish I had an answer to the wind when it wants to blow me away, to the guy who wants to pass through the rotating doors at Stanley at the same time as I. I wish I had an answer to the shirts and pants that wear me today that I wore sometime back. I wish I had an answer to what happened…

I wish I had an answer to the quiet moments, the bloodshot eyes days that look confused. I wish I had an answer to the appetite less days, the mornings when the sight of milk causes nausea. I wish I had an answer to the psyche less afternoons, those that being manual makes more sense. I wish I had an answer to why I can’t think beyond the worries that cloud my head, clouds that threaten to fall in teary rain. I wish I had an answer to what happened…

I wish I had an answer to why all others look afloat, why this sea seems to have only one individual at the bottom. I wish I had an answer to why I can’t seem to get hold of the floater, let alone understand why I never had the opportunity to learn how to swim when I was supposed to. I wish I had an answer to why no one wants to hold my hand to get me to the surface, why those I look up to seem to only push me back in when I struggle to get my head above the water at least for a breath. I wish I had an answer to what happened…

I wish I had an answer to why that call adds to the weight of my heart, why the texts get me cringing and my fingers shaking. I wish I had an answer to why what were beautiful sights have turned into eyesores. I wish I had an answer to why what were comfortable rides are now bumpy pulls along the potholed road. I wish I had an answer to why I sat to write tonight. I wish I had an answer to what happened…

I wish I had an answer, I wish I knew what happened, but I can’t keep wishing, It’s time to leave a wish



For some reason…

For some reason I am scared, that your blue shirts and sweaters will turn green, that your white and blue caps will turn into green berets. I am scared that your short round batons will stick in your arms but your colleagues will carry a long gun by their hips. I am scared that your big, dusty leather boots, will turn into tiny, shiny black shoes.

For some reason, I am scared that your high handedness will turn into arrogance. That your tiny scope of looking at things will grow even smaller. That you will not want to listen to me, that you won’t even want to reason when I request that we reason, that you will want me to stoop low to your level where reasoning is a star in the sky, which no parachute, air balloon or plane car reach and we all know no rocket or space craft exists in your world.

For some reason, I am scared that the judge in you won’t be as sober as the one I referred to in my primary school compositions. That maybe the night before we meet, one of your boiz will have taken you out for a round or two. That when we talk all you will be thinking of is how to nurse a hangover and not how to soberly make a judgment. That just like the Keters of this world to you I will be a ‘matapaka’, and you work will be to ‘eff’ innocent Kenyans like me, or maybe not so innocent anymore.

For some reason I am scared, that maybe it all makes sense. That I deserve nothing but the fear I feel inside. That I deserve all that will happen after, that I should have thought about it when I put my right foot on the gas, when the speedometer read KMs that were unimaginable. That this may be the turning point for the future I am meant to live in.

For some reason I am scared, that my love for stripped shirts may be taken a notch higher. That it may move to a forced love for stripped pants as well. That my not liking for caps might actually die at this point when I am forced to wear one at all times. That the shape of my head that doesn’t allow for a bald shave might actually have to ‘come out of the closet’

For some reason I am scared, that the beast I see in Becca might be the reason I meet the beasts that think other hommes might be beauties. That shower time may not be as pleasant as it has always been. That I may have to literally watch my back and develop glue for bars of soaps to ensure they never drop to the floor. That my hate for beans won’t matter anymore when I anticipate for the weevil infested meal every lunch and dinner time.

For some reason I am scared, that in as much as mum had no official ‘time out’ strategy, ‘ulimwengu’ is out to show me what it means to stand at the corner. That I may have to experience what it means to start over again after six months when I try to compose my own version of Safarina’s freedom song.

For some reason, I am scared, that I may have to look hard for a synonym when I start my own music label because … Konvict music (Insert Akon’s voice) is taken already. Aha!

Courtesy of

Courtesy of

PS: This is just for laughs

Today more than ever…

Today more than ever should have been a different day. Smiles would be wider, sleeps would be more peaceful, and minds would be more relaxed. The sun would shine brighter and the hurt would either not be there at all or would be lesser. It would be easy to figure out what tomorrow would bring and the future would be more predictable. There would be no need to second guess, we’d lay it all on the table because we’d be sure that was it. Today more than ever should have surely been a different day.

Today more than ever, I wish I met neither of you. The moments shared, the work done together. The laughs, the advice, the listening ear, the challenges were all good, but this does not cancel the betrayal felt inside. It doesn’t clear the hurt that you instill in m, either knowingly or unknowingly. It pisses more to see that you either do not want to stand in the light or keep evading it whenever it follows. Today more than ever would be a different day had life gone on without the two of you coming in.

Today more than ever I wish I never hassled that hard for you. The patience when you persistently called, the push when I felt like I was failing you. My ear was always out for any opportunity, a minion I was but I promised myself I would do all possibly within my ability and capability to ensure I didn’t disappoint you. I treated you right when you were made my responsibility, I did not want to be like any other all I wanted was to be like none other for you. All, because you meant to me more than what you thought and I always thought it could be seen. The laughs, the light talks even when our relationship didn’t allow, all to make you comfortable.

Today more than ever I wish I did everything differently. I wish I never embraced, I should have kept you at arm’s length. I wish I never laughed with you, because we didn’t have to anyway. I wish I never opened up to you, because my inner self doesn’t mean a thing to you. I wish I did not say a word because all I said was carried by the wind. Most of all I wish I never went out of my way because I got pricked by thorn yet I would have had a smooth ride.

Today more than ever I want out. It has been 2+ years and this means time to move one. We have been together, through the good and bad. You taught me a lot, I contributed the much I could to your growth. Today more than ever, I feel like I have played my part and you have taught me all you could. Maybe it was time we gave some other persons to learn and contribute, some other persons to earn.


Today more than ever cannot be a different day. Today more than ever, I cannot cancel the fact that I met both of you. Today more than ever I cannot take back the efforts I put across to ensure you achieved what you always hoped for. Today more than ever I cannot change a thing I did for the sake of friendship. Today more than ever I have to embrace the challenges that come with this day. I have to take the positive that lies in every interaction and make the best out of it. I will learn from the negative, stand, dust and continue with the race, because today is the best day today would be.