The Valentine Story

It all starts in a 14 seater ‘matatu’, well back then they were 18 seaters. Daddy doesn’t know what Valentine’s is all about and he is at pain to explain. Largely because he has been brought up to believe that anything to do with love is evil and not to be talked about, well, unless it is about “For God so loved the world…”



Flash forward and he is in a campus room, in one dirty hostel, name withheld for fear of libel, or is it defamation? The alcohol cannot allow for engagement of the brain to pick out what the hypothalamus saved when the lecturer spoke about this. Speaking of the hypothalamus why the hell did they come up with the phrase Medulla Oblongata? It’s one of those broke campus months and all he can think of is how empty the campus is after all stroll to town for “Lover’s day”. The poor man can only afford a plastic flower, oh! God, plastic? He finds solace in the fact that the missus thinks the day is overrated, maybe only coz there was nothing she could do about it. By this time HELB loan had gotten to where it belonged – The barman’s pockets, and the wallet was the loneliest thing on a day people should be coupling.

Quick! Quick! And comes the moment, 24 hours of nothing but twitter, solace in Afterhours984. Everybody had left, it was that week when the lectures created some “Masters Students Thesis Defense” activity. Who knows, they may have just deliberately decided on this week to get away from the nagging wives, fiancées, girlfriends and maybe “Mpango wa Kandos”, for the men of course. And an opportunity for the ladies to spend time with their sidekicks without raising suspicion. This was a perfect moment for the Nairobians to tell how much they hated the “bundus” and all flocked out…or is it away, like termites after a thunderstorm. All he had to look at was the two extra metal feet, maybe Carnegie would want them called steel, which had been acting as his company in the past few months.

All wasn’t lost though coz even when the light at the end of the tunnel refuses to show up, there’s always a light bulb to light the dark alleys. And this presented itself in the form of a homemade card, should I call it ‘hostel made’? And, oh, there was the week or maybe plus of brainstorms. Note, it was brain and not brains. But it wasn’t a waste because it bore fruit in the form of a close to milk like liquor, from one of the best stores around, specially delivered on a motorbike, famously known as ‘bodaboda’

The aftermath, a walk across town, with yet another a bit whiter substance in a slimmer bottle and an all so common chocolate, inspired or maybe not, by those Cadbury – Mobile Money sales. The succession was a first time visit to a middle class coffee shop and a taxi ride. All in oblivion of the opposite direction runs a few months later.

But it doesn’t end there coz there is yet another phase, one that starts at exactly midnight, and it all starts in a bar’s bathroom….

Happy Valentine’s Day people!


One thought on “The Valentine Story

  1. […] 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 […]

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