He’s gone, hard to accept

‘You know my boy got a girl’.

 Who? I asked. 
You know who. …….Its the reason why I travelled to Nairobi over the weekend. We were going to visit the ladies parents. Its a done deal. 

****

Why do I feel hurt when he already hurt me and I thought I was over it. Maybe because at the back of my mind I always thought he would come back to me, someday. I have been thinking about him so much lately. I had even prayed for a sign,,, a sign to signal me if i have to continue dreaming about us or stop and forget.


Now I got it , clear and loud. I had gone to help with Construction in Kibwezi and was hoping to get his number from D, his very good friend, the carrier of the bad news. From there my plan was to call him and hope he would be as happy to hear from me as I would. Its never gonna happen. He’s made his choice already and its not me. Just like Adele said’ she gave him what i could not’ 

This is the point where people say I am happy for him. But I do not have anything to say about that, I don’t know if I should be happy, angry, sad, vindictive. Should I wish them well or bad. I do not want to think about them. I have resigned to thinking about me. How I feel, how I should feel, and lessons learnt. 

I did tell my friend yesterday and this morning she woke up hating him for me, I mean all that I need to feel about it, she’s feeling on my behalf. When he broke my heart, she was disgusted by him and from then on anytime I told her how much I still loved him, she openly showed her disgust towards him. I avoided the topic when talking to her. Should have taken her warning seriously.

I wish I felt what she does. Many have asked for my love, with so much to give but somehow I could not reciprocate, he’s been the reason. I wish I felt for them half of what I feel for him.

I miss being held in his strong arms, that is the one feeling that I will never forget. I somehow thought that I would have that forever. Its one good memory to keep, and one hell of a story to tell. 

I still feel he’s gonna be mine, why can’t I accept the fact that he’s gone, when am I gonna accept it,, may be never, maybe soon. 

Even in my wildest day dreams, years to come when am married with a family, he still creeps in, as a neighbour or something. I am not ready to let him go, at least not in my fantasies.

Happy I did meet love, at least I know what love feels like, when another comes , I will know exactly what it is. 

I still love him. 

Maize flour shortage

I walk into the supermarket and find it full of people  with a queue winding all the way to the back. This is new, I never expect traffic anywhere in this small town, whether in the shop, markets, hotels even on the roads, the beauty of small town life.

Then I notice that everyone on the queue is carrying one specific commodity, maize flour. As I squeeze past them a loud voice comes from the entrance. “Pick only one packet of 2kg maize floor unless you are purchasing other commodities” The shoppers curse as they bend down to look at the large number of packets filling their shopping baskets, and suddenly the joyful smiles on their faces turn to frawns of sadness and anger.

This has been the situation for many weeks passed and still continues. Ugali is the staple food for the majority of Kenyans and so maize and maize flour the most sorted after commodity. But its supply has been way below it’s demand, and the prices high to the roof. 

So what happened to our most produced agricultural produce, maize. Many theories abound. Some say the traders bought all the maize from farmers and hoarded to cause an artificail shortage in order to hike the prices making huge profits. 

Others say the maize production was really low last season something that always happens during the election year,, like some curse from the gods.

Or maybe poor governance.

The government came in to help by ‘importing maize from Mexico’ milling it and selling the flour at a cheaper price. Ksh.90/= from ksh.170. Shop owners have been warned not to sell at any other price and this rule has been enforced by having under cover government officials buying the flour from shops as pretend customers. Those caught are persecuted and pay huge fines.

But the commodity is still under stocked since the government sells to traders at the same price they expect them to sell at, most avoid non profitable business. That’s why the owner of the supermarket asked buyers to take one unless they were buying other profit making commodities. 

I had gone to purchase spaghetti and soap, maize floor was not in my budget but since I stumbled on it, I picked two packets which I know will serve me and my son for a month. I would have taken more but I had to be considerate of others. 

Lovers of ugali are not gonna be voting for the current government come August, they view the shortage as result of poor governance.

One scary night 

I run back into the house screaming, my mum gets hold of a mwiko( wooden cooking spoon) and runs to my rescue. She goes to the door to see who is terrifying me, but she  can’t see anyone. I go to the door myself to show her the man who was crawling on his fours towards me, but he’s no more. He was never there. Just the imaginations of my head when I peer into the darkness.  

All my childhood I avoided the darkness and if unavoidable I would walk with my eyes closed. Maybe that’s the reason why  I wet my bed for I was too afraid to go to the bathroom. I would not sleep in a room alone, and since I had siblings, I never worried about that.

 Am not afraid of it anymore, and happy I got over that phobia, so how did it happen.

I found myself alone in a huge dormitory, 50m long by 10m, with cubicles on both sides of the corridor. The place was Sori Migori, along the shores of lake Victoria. It is a monastery going by the name ‘…..Skulls of Golgotha…’ scary name,,right! 

I could not sleep that night, I remember watching ‘Suits the series’ all night with headphones tuned on full volume to block out the sounds from outside. The chattering of dry leaves blown by the breeze from the lake sounded like foot steps ,,, of ,,, ghosts and skulls of Golgotha. I had not found my faith so was pretty scared of ghosts. 

The huge trees towering over the roof would brush across throwing me into a panic, wondering if ‘they’ had decided to come in through the roof. I had left the lights on, both in my room and the corridor hoping it would give an impression of ‘daylight’ hence a sense of security, but that did not help.

I had enjoyed the sound of the lake waves beating against the rock on the shores before but not that night, they were loud and fear instilling. All I could think of were the scary stories that I had been told of the Jinis of the lake side. I have a very active imagination and that night thoughts,, imaginations went through my head, anything and everything thathappen or visit in darkness.

I sat on my bed paralysed, any sound even of my own movement startled and made be jump with fear, causing a raised heart rate, sweating and shaking. It was one scary night. 

Was relieved when morning came. 

The following night, after a long day of working out in the sun, my body was too exhausted to be distracted by fear that I slept like a baby. Research shows the body can survive on lack of food for days but not sleep. And that was my medicine, never been scared of darkness again, got healed of my phobia I can say, the hard way.

Sure to be punctured

He smiles and winks
With adoration at me he looks
Beautiful you are he macks
Today as always he speaks

I can feel the spark

Try not to be flirt ired
To ignore proves hard
Speech good to behold
Feels good to be complimented

The spark has ignited

Calls and chats
His company tickles
But hes not for keeps
Never to have for evers

Ignition in flames

In camera really good
Polite and gentled
But can’t brag to friend
Forbidden so hidden

The flames have bursted

Its gonna burn someday
Playing with fire I say
Its a game we play
Sure to be 
punctured

Love flames makes prey

Trace- Should I or should I not

I love daily prompts coz they make me write on issues that I would otherwise not.

So who do I want to trace today????

I lost my birth certificate, the one my mum got me before I joined highschool, and I am happy it got lost. In the place for my Father’s name it had been written… xxxxxxxxx. Really.xxxx gave birth to me. That’s me, never saw or ever heard my father being mentioned in all my childhood.

When my mum died, was just out of high school and as we were going through her stuff my siblings and I, collecting documents that belonged to each one of us, we came across my immunization/ postnatal care card. My sister read my father’s name aloud W.J, …will use initials. One of my aunts went like ” He used to be called like that”

My heart skipped a beat

That’s the first time I heard the mention of my father, at least then I knew I was birthed by a human with a name not an xxxx. I would trace him once I was done burying my mum.

During my mum’s burial, my grand pa took me by the hand and we walked to one of my grand uncles, his brother In-law and he asked him. ” Where is this girl’s father”

“He died long time ago” came his reply. He said it like it was nothing. Little did he know just how heartbroken his answer made me. That was the day I buried both my parents, one that I had lived with all my life and one that I had never met.

He lived in my hopes, had planned on looking for him once I was old enough to take care of myself. I know you are wondering why I never asked my mum about him. This was a forbidden topic. Even when I saw the XXX in my cert I never raised the question, I was grateful for the good life that she was providing and was hoping that one day when I get old enough she would tell me. She died with all that information, one of the reasons why I keep a journal.

But at least now my new birth certificate contains my father’s name at its rightful place. I still hold the hope of tracing his family- my family some day. Would like to know more about him, the kind of person he was and if I inherited any personality traits from him.

Am I incomplete as a person coz I know nothing (apart from name and that he’s dead) about the other person that contributed to my gaining life?  Would it make any difference to me if  I trace his/ my family and get to have a relationship with them?

I did shed a few tears when writing this, maybe the answers to the questions above is yes.

I will trace them some day.

Buff up

Will be attending a friends wedding this Saturday, it will be the first time I visit Nairobi after I moved out to this small town a month ago. Looking forward to seeing my friends again and show them just how good the small town life has been to me.

How do I do that. Buff up.

For two weeks now I have been exersing every morning like my life depends on it, it actually does but this is done for other reasons.

In most villages this one included, fat people are considered rich. (The Swahili word for fat isn’t offensive) Actually when someone tells you that you have grown  fat, its a complement, you say thankyou.

I promise not to be corrupted by that village mentality.

I love my body cellulite less. So I have been working my arms and abs and its kinda showing good results, though I need to put in more effort. And I am already loving the reflection of me in the mirror which I check everytime before and after showers.

Yesterday I tried on two of my dresses that I plan on wearing during the wedding. They fit just perfectly. Can’t wait to show off my buffed up self to everyone.

Will share the photos…maybe.

Mission Accomplished

 War is stupid, my opinion
I take an AK 47, him a G3
Load bullets meant for his heart
Same intentions, he does it too

He’s the enemy

To him am the enemy too
We fight for what we believe in
Opposing ideologies
So who’s right?
Who’s really the enemy
We pray, not to the same god for sure

I drive over the landmine
It detonates
Unknown to him, I have set one down the road

One..two..three..his tanker explodes

     Mission accomplished


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/detonate/