Just Maybe IV- The End?

He finally called.

Am sure you are wondering who. Pay keen attention. He’s the boy I used to like at the beginning of the semester. There was a week a literally lived by the phone…and was on walking on air. Does it remind you of those posts? The ones called Just Maybe..episode 1 to 3.

Being a big girl in a big bad campus, I decided to let him go. Life’s like that, I figured. Win some, lose some. That means I was not going to call him anymore. I more than gave him space. Anyway, I had given up on the waiting (he said he needed to sort himself up), and had, in relationship terms, moved on.

It’s been a month or more. We meet at the paths occasionally and say hi. Until yesterday.

The lights had gone off as usual..and I had spent the evening watching two movies..figured an early night (read midnight) would do me good. No sooner had I entered bed half-changed ( I did not fancy rummaging through my wardrobe/locker in search of my night clothes), than the phone rang.

“ Hi..it’s me.”

“Hey..”

“ I need to talk to you, am outside your hall. Can you come downstairs?”

“Um..right now? Can’t it wait…am already in bed.” Notice how I wouldn’t have slept that week till he had called.

“ I really need to talk.”

“ Ok..sawa just a minute.”

Pulling on a sweatshirt… I met him downstairs just at the entrance.

“ I forgot most people sleep early..” he began.

“ Yeah..it’s not like you guys who stay awake up to 4 a.m. and past… how’ve you been?”

“ Fine. And you?”

Small talk. This and that..graduation coming up. He suggested we go for the infamous j-circuit. You know, the night walk where guys take long walks at night to sort out issues, meditate etc… How I wished he had asked me this earlier…

Finally, the talk.

“I want you to give us another chance.”

“What do you mean us?” Dumb questions get asked all the time.

“I mean…first of all, am sorry I lengad you like the entire semester.”

“No, it’s ok. What made you change your mind?”

“I told you I was sorting myself out. Kinda like finding myself…”

“I know what you mean. For me, am lost everyday. It’s a daily search to find myself.”

“Anyway, I want another chance, so what do you think?”

“Well..a whole semester is kinda long. I wish you had said this earlier.”

“Does that mean no?”

“Yes. Actually…am over you. Am sorry but it’s the truth. Sometimes it’s not what you say but what you don’t say. Silence for that long…” Where do these words that sound like lines in a movie come from?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You see, am not one of those people who agonize over decisions. If I mean yes, I tell you. If I mean no, I say it. And once my mind is made up, it’s hard to change.”

We had by now reached someplace where we could sit down. He took my hand, and I turned and asked..

“What could we have? Suppose we are to have another chance.”

“I don’t know…we could start small, hang out, go to places…”

“I think you were just a little too late. Wish this had been said earlier, but then you were finding yourself.”

“Yeah..and now I know what I want…” a little silence.

The security van passes by and flashes headlights menacingly at us. The security guys have been known to harass students before. But this time they are content with driving by at 1km/hr. we smile at their ‘scary’ antics.

“Is it another guy?” He asked.

“Actually no, I like being single…doing my thing, you know. What about you, met any other girls?”

“No. You really thought I had forgotten you all this time?”

“What was I supposed to think, you didn’t call…”

“I told you it wasn’t such a good time for me.”

“Maybe I should learn to be more patient. I should have waited. Anyway, I think you will find another girl..”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

The security guys have disappeared over the corner.

“Are you afraid?”

“Me? No? I’m not afraid of the dark, or challenges….afraid of what?”

“Afraid that I’ll make you change your mind?”

“No. Am not.”

“You won’t give me a chance to try?”

“No. This is pretty much it.”

“So we should be going? Sorry to get you out of bed.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s still early..kinda”

“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. I’ll be waiting.”

“Sure. Though I doubt I’ll change it but just in case, I’ll call…”

We take the walk back. I can feel it’s been a rather disappointing night for him but am sure he’ll get over it. Well, I think he will. However, am afraid anything I say now might just come out wrong, so we walk on in silence.

“Okay, can I try something?” He asks me.

“What?”

“Just one last thing.”

“Yes..No!” I said quickly when I realized what he wanted to try out. The last kiss, but I said no.

We said goodnight.

And that was it.

Now I sit here in this cold room taking a break from my studies. I know he is probably upstairs in the studio right now. Just one flight of stairs, and that’s it. Am beginning to wonder if I made a mistake, the what ifs are killing me.

The Woman and The Kid

I was watching a mungiki documentary *shudder* and I don’t want to talk about it. I mean about the mungiki. But a few scenes in it got to me.

The street children, the Dandora dumpsite, the poverty (not that it’s new but it gets to me every time), the mutilated bodies, the violence recorded, the woman (I’ll elaborate more), the terror..it was all just horrifying.

The woman am referring to here is someone high up in the organization hierarchy. Her name is Florence. If ever there was a cold woman, it’s this one. She is so blunt. She was a prostitute before she joined them. She has this bold stare and chilly smile even when she is talking about killing, it’s like a mocking smile. Her words are precise. She sounds like someone who means what she says and says what she means. I’ll attempt to type out part of the interview:

Q: Maina’s wife disappeared yesterday.

A: Yeah, the day after yesterday.

Q: What happened?

A: Even now am just here, am feeling..my blood is telling me they are dead. My blood is telling me. (Bold stare, absolute conviction in what she is saying.)

Q: You think that they are dead…

A: Yes, am feeling!

Q: Who do you think is responsible for taking them away?

A: It’s this *** squad.

Q: You are sure?

A: Yeah, they want us to feel pain, so that we can leave mungiki. But, even if they take my baby, and kill my baby, eh..I’ll never go back. NEVER. (So much passion, words alone won’t be able to describe this.)

Q: (This guy is definitely buffled..) Tell me actually what you do?

A: Am a coordinator. Of women.

Q: Do you target prostitutes?

A: Yeah? Yeah. I can change their life within 30 minutes.

Q: Really?

A: (That smile again) Yeah.

Q: And what do you to change their lives in 30 minutes?

A: I do read the Bible, and tell them “I was like you one day.” I was smoking very much bangi.

Q: A lot of marijuana, yeah?

A: Very much. I’ve been jailed because of robbery, I was even slaughtering gangs.

Q: (Very shocked guy) You were slaughtering?

A: (That smile) Yeah. I was a bad girl. Yeah.

Q: You killed people?

A: Yeah..Yeah..I was brewing chang’aa..

Q: Very strong alcohol..

A: Yeah..I was selling to people, and if you don’t pay me.. I was taking a glass and slaughter you (movements to show this-the slicing across the throat) I can..yaani I can do everything to you. (Smile again). So everybody was fearing me. In Kayole, Soweto.

Q: what about the claims that, you know, some of the girls that join have female circumcision. Is that true?

A: Yes, of course.

Q: So the allegations that we have that people were locked up and are basically forced to have circumcision..

A: (Emphatic shake of head) Not forced. No.

Q: Okay..

A: It’s your wish. Like now..April, there is 20 girls.

Q: 20 girls?

A: yeah. And they come to my house.

Q: How do you do it?

A: there is an old woman, she will come with a knife..and then I’ll take the legs of the girl (demonstrating) and then I’ll cover the neck, like this. (Shows how.) Please please, hold on. Hold on. And then the mama will just cut. Just a small thing. Just a very small thing.

Q: some people might disagree with you that it is a small thing.

A: It’s a small..very small thing.

Q: Doesn’t that mean that by taking away that very small thing, that she won’t be able to enjoy sex in the future?

A: That’s lies. To be circumcised, is a good thing. Coz I can stay..about 3 years without a man. And I can survive. But uncircumcised girls can’t stay. Coz when that thing stands like this, you’ll feel yaani you want a man. You can be fucked by everybody. Even dogs. (Laughs-it’s chilling)

I don’t know who else watched the documentary but as I said no more comments about it. It’s too big to upload and am not even sure if it’s copyrighted. It’s by Sky News. The narrator is called Ross Kemp.
Here is a photo from a scene that literally had me in tears.

The glue community.

Ross Kemp with the community

Ross Kemp with the community

The mother giving her kid glue

The mother giving her kid glue

the kid sniffing away

the kid sniffing away

no one attends to her as she stumbles around

no one attends to her as she stumbles around

as she stares into the camera, what future does she have?

as she stares into the camera, what future does she have?

I have updated ;that blog now trying to RSS feed it into this blog..

The Power of Alcohol

No, no, this is not a story to praise the firepower, but a sad tale of someone’s uncle. Never mind the brain cell theory that I’ve heard around- that alcohol kills the useless cells of the brain, leaving only the active ones hence you become brighter.

The uncle should be around 35 or so, doesn’t really matter. He probably began drinking around 12 or 15 years ago. Those days, he used to go around cursing “shit, shit” and the only thing I understood was sheet as in bedsheet and wondered why someone would go round saying that. He also used to say something close to praryfakiu, which I later came to understand meant “bloody eff you.”

He used to live in the hut that his brothers built, which was never swept and cigarette butts were littered all over. He drinks and smokes all the time. I think when he gets money, he goes to a home where they brew chang’aa and drinks until it’s over then goes back home. It’s not surprising to see him beg for 10 bob so he can buy a cigarette from his nephews and nieces. Imagine a thin, dirty and rugged 35 year old with an outstretched hand for 10 bob. It’s such a pity.

So where does he get the money to drink from? Considering he doesn’t work, though he did get educated to form six (maybe past..am not sure.) Well, he cut and sold just about all the trees that were planted on the farm. Next he started selling bananas, maize and any other produce, even when it’s still maturing. In the beginning, he actually used to go to the shamba and dig and stuff, but these days he doesn’t even bother. He also used to bathe, wash his clothes and hang it on the flower bushes that surrounded his hut. I doubt he cares very much for personal hygiene these days.

One day, in a bid to get money, he started burning charcoal. Now, I don’t know how charcoal makers do their burning, but I doubt they do it inside houses. He decided to do it in his house and up in flames it went. Nothing was salvaged.

So he moved into his brother’s iron sheet roofed house. He is the only one who still lives in the village, you see. When you enter that house, it’s like walking on a soft carpet of dust. Cobwebs hung precariously from the roof and fleas are in plenty.

Another time, a relative came visiting from abroad, the land of dollars so to speak. He gave him 500 shillings. Not much, but consider a reasonable bottle of 90+ % alcohol changaa goes for 20 bob or so. There is also plenty of marijuana grown on private farms by rogues traders.

He does get unruly sometimes. Then he will fight his mother calling her all sorts of ghastly names. She denies him food for a while and he goes harassing neighbours for food. Eventually, she resumes feeding him.
What hasn’t been done to him? The chief has been called and administered many of his whips to no avail. ( Alcoholism cannot be cured by whips of course, but it was the name-calling of his mother that got him ‘disciplined’). He can’t walk for a week and when he is finally able to move, he crawls back to the changaa dens and comes back to harass his mother. People have talked to him, respected members of the family, his uncles, all those good old relatives; oaths have been sworn and put down on paper, appended by signatures. Even before the ink is dry, he’ll be smoking and cursing everyone in sight.

Marriage you say? He doesn’t want to marry, the better because what woman would be willing to live with him? And who will bring up his children? Educate, feed and clothe them? Some ‘wise’ elders felt it wise for him to marry to keep the family name going. So they got him a wife (and you thought arranged marriages are no more). He just sat there during the bride price giving ceremony saying little. What could he say?
Later when he got drunk, he told them they could keep their wife. Let’s just say she never even stepped in his house, and I don’t think he even spoke two words to her. After a few months, she left and went back to her parent’s place. What a waste of bride price. Two lovely cows gone to waste.

Now? He just there. Still smokes, still drinks, still thin, doesn’t talk much. Just stretches his hand in greeting then continues to mind his own business.

Useful member in society? I don’t think so but perhaps as a warning to other not to tread his path.

The Revival of one Lost Poet

So I have been trying to revive my otherwise mostly dead poetry skills. Halfway there, I started this blog

A friend of mine left me some poems when he was graduating and am thinking of putting them up on the poetry blog with a disclaimer that am not the original author. Should put up one this week. Watch this space.

In the footsteps of my mind

In the footsteps of my mind

Karate: The Comeback

I am a paradox sometimes, or so I would like to think. Sample this:

i.)                  I am a conservative at heart, but a liberal on the outside. I tell people to go for it, break the rules, sometimes I break them too. But I still conform to traditional views like marriage, decent dressing (this is one hell of an everyday debate) and other moral views that could be seen as outdated in today’s glitz blitz world.

ii.)                 I condemn religion on one hand, but defend my religion when someone takes a jibe at it. At that time, I can take the religious fervour of one possessed by demons…yet at other times, I seriously wonder if people believe all they read in the holy books. For instance, there are many verses in the Bible that allude to Paul’s chauvinistic attitude towards women. I’ll quote a few. “For woman was created for man, but not man for woman.” “I forbid any woman to teach men..blah blah…” “The man is the head of the woman, as Christ is the head of the house.”

 

Don’t get me wrong. Equality is not the same as hating men, but I hate having someone say something like “There are some things that a woman just can’t manage.” I always ask which ones and would in fact be tempted to do them just to prove someone wrong.

 

What is more worrying is this conversation I was having with a fellow lady in Bible study, and what was she saying, that we were never meant to be equal. She was the one quoting for me those verses above. She totally believes she should meekly be subservient to her husband.

 

iii.)               I scoff at soap opera watchers and women (and men) who still read Mills and Boon. I try to understand the rationale of those who go overboard and name their kids after soap opera stage names, like Maria Clara, or Carlos Eduardo. Yet, I find a movie, any kind (action, scientific fiction, detective drama) incomplete without some form of romantic involvement between hero and heroine.

In other news.

I tell myself this is it. You are going to have to exercise. That smooth round sexy   belly has to go. What happened to your dream of a six pack? Oh, I remember you realized it was just a dream, but you settled for a lesser goal of an outline. You know an outline…when I hold my stomach in and forget to breathe, you can see vestiges of a six pack that lies underneath. And how am I supposed to show off the tattoo am to get on my lower back if I can’t wear small tops? No, you have no choice but to exercise. Besides, it is good for your health and all that.

Of course I realize your body was never meant for exercise. You can’t run for five minutes before you start hemming and puffing like you were doing some other suspicious activities. You don’t have long graceful limbs that true athletes are blessed with. Which is why exercise is torture for you.

I know you cannot help it that you have a healthy appetite. It’s in your genes. Even your mother tells you she never had a problem feeding you as a child. While your brothers whined all through their meals, eating supper with eyes closed trying to feign sleep, you cleared your plate like the good girl you are. The only problem is, it took you quite a while and you were often the last one at the table. Of course that has not changed, but it could stem from the fact that nowadays, you are eating as you watch news, read a novel and glance at the newspaper all at the same time.

You remember how last year you held the prestigious title of vice-chairperson of shorin matsubayshi ryu karate club. You kept all those files of members and made announcements, admonishing those who did not keep time. Discipline is important in karate. So you see, that is why I decided to go back to karate. Never mind the sensei (the teacher, he’s a black belt FYI) who flirts with everyone in sight. Provided they are female. And we both know there are very few females on that team.

I know you can hardly take those funny exercises…the splits, the pushups (I caught you staring at your biceps this morning..you amuse me you know. But do you really think they’ll become defined after all those push-ups?).

So yesterday you showed up, sensei was happy to see you. You got lost many times in those steps, sometimes they can seem so complicated. So it reached the part where you partner up, and apply the theory to practical. You definitely suck at this. You probably know the first defense in a situation would be to run away. Failing that, you will cower at a corner covering your head and praying for the best. Let’s just hope you never have to be a in a situation where you will need your karate skills.

Do you remember how your mother reacted when you joined karate? She called it the drug addicts’ club. That the sort of thing Conjestina would do (BTW, what happened to her?). you tried telling her karate is all about the discipline. Self-defense. Drug addicts and alcoholics are not allowed into the club. It’s about meditation and finding a spiritual connection. Was she even listening? She decided to let you do your thing. Am sure she was hoping you’d give up. Well, so long…am not quitting till I get that black belt.

Oh no, don’t go there? Which colored belt are you again…white? Ha ha ha.. (evil laugh) isn’t that the first one? No, actually the white belt is stage1, stage 2, stage 3…and am in stage three (8th kyu.) One more step and I can have a belt of another color. Let’s hope this can be done by the end of the year.

What was I telling myself again? Oh yes, this is it. Tomorrow, you will wake up at six and go jogging. You’ve done it before…I heard you saying that since you sleep late, you’ve been jogging in the evenings instead. What was the other excuse? That tomorrow you are going swimming? Ha, that’s a good one. We both know swimming for you comes once in a while, especially in this cold weather. It’s been sunny of late…but you still have to wake up early.

 So you did not wake up at six, but instead groaned out of bed at 8.30 a.m. on a school day, get serious. Now where is that pic of you swimming last time so you can fool your readers that you went swimming today? We both know you wont be going because it looks like it might rain any minute now.

 

Ah..that picture of you swimming the last time you were there

Ah..that picture of you swimming the last time you were there

 

Song of the moment: Be Somebody – 3 Doors Down

Incomplete Post..

Ever had such a moment? The threads of your thoughts disappear altogether…here is the post below.

Sometimes you want your life to be different. You wake up each morning and wish something adventurous, unnatural, out of the blue would happen to you. Like you become a vampire, better yet, you fall in love with one. I don’t mean those ritual-killing pastors of Naivasha. More like the enhanced vision, strength, speed, good looking and immortal vampires who shine in the sun (not those who turn into monsters). Perhaps you should watch twilight the movie, am now into reading the books this movie is based on.

Leaping through the trees in a scene in the movie

Leaping through the trees in a scene in the movie

You wish you had something deeper going on, not just the empty (or so it seems sometimes) day to day existence with mundane stuff like books, friends and what not. Of course, am still trying to discover what deeper thing. Maybe that’s the point: the search for a deeper meaning of life is the deeper meaning of life.

Once in a while, something happens to jolt you out of routine. Like you top your class. And then afterwards, there is pressure to keep up. And you almost lose it but then soon enough you are back to routine. Routine. The monotony that life can become. But then, we find comfort and safety in predictability. We sleep in peace when our routines are not disrupted.

I would be happy if I never had to sleep. There is so much to do and so much to do and so many goals I’ve set for myself. I have finally admitted (I feel like a failure) that the goals are unrealistic. So much to learn, yet I still waste much time doing nothing at all.

Fantasy

Okay, I remember writing something close to the post you are about to read, and some not-so-positive responses. So one day I wrote this post in spite..then lost the heart to publish it. (While at it, you might also read this) I was going through my papers, trying to be organised when I found the folded foolscap and voila! Nikolas requested a fantasy post, so here you go…

Warning: Explicit content, proceed at own risk. (One would think am about to explode a bomb in your face.)

My heart beats loudly in my chest. Am gaining the courage needed to face you. I look at you in the distance and my stomach ‘whooshes.’ It’s a warm night. It’s a night for dancing. In fact, the whole village is at the dance now. I can hear the drums beat in the distance. Here, upon our secret grove, we have learned each other’s secrets. Tonight is the night, and though no word has been spoken about it, we might as well be screaming out our desires.

You walk tall and regal, silent as a cat stalking prey. I cannot help but admire your stature, your demeanor. In the moonlight, you slink away to our hiding place.

Am already seated, resting my head against the tree. Remember how you taught me to write? We’ve now scratched our initials on our tree. You sit by me. It’s a bit cooler here so I move to sit between your legs, my head resting on your chest, and you put your arms around my shoulders. We sit like this for a while. The elders will probably have a fit if they see us now. Things like these are forbidden in our land. They are now taking the village brew at the dancing ceremony. One day, you shall probably be among them, leading them. After all, you are the chief’s son. But tonight you are mine, and am yours.

I relish the feel of your warm skin on mine. Yours is a hard worker’s body; you are not afraid of physical work. I, on the other hand, have been accused of being lazy. But we’ve talked about this and am sure you understand when I say some of us were just not meant to do some kind of work.

Our clothes are of the usual style, so skimpy. Your loin clothskin. My single leather skirt. We women walk around topless, but am only shy when I meet you in public. You always talk to my chest, don’t you? But it pleases me greatly, and sets a warm feeling in my belly.

You sigh contentedly and run your hands up and down my bare arms. You say you love the smoothness of my skin. I love the feel of your hands on me. Now your hands are on my belly, and I can feel coherent thoughts flying out of my head. I can only feel this moment.

Your hands cup my breasts, and even though you have done this many times before, each time is as good as that first time. You gently massage one nipple, coaxing it to erectness with your thumb. My breathing gets shallower, and I can feel myself growing damp.

Ever so slowly, I turn to face you, and look into your eyes. The animal desire I see reflected there holds me captive. Moving closer, my breasts now pressed against your chest, I lower my head, until my lips are touching yours. You pull back just a little bit to show me you want to taunt me, make me beg for your kisses.

My hands tracing loving paths on your back, and this time you don’t pull away. Your lips taste of those minty leaves you like chewing so much. I probe my tongue deeper, exploring, teasing and tantalizing. Am lost in this feeling so electrifying. Raw heat engulfs us. I can already feel the moisture on your skin. You know am so ready I want you in me right now. But you are a patient one, and you love taking your time. You literally drive me crazy.

You make me lie on my back on the cool soil. I blend in with it; me and you melt in the dark. You gaze at me as if you’d ravish me, but I can see the restraint in your eyes. You want this to last as long as possible. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Your lips find my nipple, and I wriggle and moan beneath you, as one hand caresses my silken thighs. Your hand moves from the knee, up my hip and onto my core of pleasure. Your middle finger finds me, hot and wet, and quickly slides inside. I tense for a moment, feeling only what words cannot describe. You index finger finds my bud, and spreading the lips to have full access, you tease me. Am half out of my mind and am almost coming. But instead you reduce your speed, leisurely exploring, and now you have your two fingers in me, which am riding. I tense for a minute, utter a cry and a shattering orgasm rocks me. I can feel the wetness trickle out of me. I still want you.

Discarding your loin cloth you stand, and pull me up with you. You support me against the tree. I have one hand around your neck, and in the other hand, I hold your glorious manhood. It throbs with a life of its own. The need to have you in me is great.

With your strength, you lift both of my legs and wrap them around your waist. My hand is guiding you, and with the first thrust you enter me deeply. We both gasp. What we have is powerful. Slowly, you move in and out, pulling out almost completely and as am about to move forward in refusal, you thrust back. I meet you stroke for stroke.
Our rhythmic movements increase in pace. I can feel you swell and grow inside me. We are moving in a kaleidoscope of color, making sounds we cannot hear. Light explodes before my eyes, and my coming this time is like thunder. A few seconds later, you too lets go, close your eyes and ejaculate in me. When you pull out, it’s sensuously lubricated sliding.

We lie together at the foot of the tree, your arm my pillow. Before long we have to part. But I know we’ll be back here again soon.