A Boy Called Harrison

Part II: The End

Vee and Chebo manage to convince me to reply. I tell Vee she’ll be the one to format the whole letter, which ends up being one-small-writing-pad long. So I jot it down, get a white envelope, put the letter in and with some calligraphy from Chebo on the envelope, we are done.

KCSE begins. The first week is crazy and hectic. I have papers all morning and all afternoons. A break finally comes on Friday afternoon when the rest are doing History Paper 1. Guess where I am headed, duh! The swimming.
Come Saturday afternoon, and we are skipping rope to diffuse some exam stress. In the evening, as I settle down to do some serious ‘chopping’, I receive yet another letter. With a rose. This is turning dramatic.

Vee, being dramatic and a believer in romance, brings a soda bottle, fills it with water and puts the rose in it. The bottle is then put on the table. Then we settle down to read the letter. By ‘we’ I mean almost the entire class. It’s a classic love letter. All the quotable quotes, and some lyrics from some reggae songs. I don’t really listen to reggae, but Vee2 does and she knows the quoted songs.
My friends tell me I have to outdo him. Too bad I didn’t keep a copy but sample this:

“You are the Harrison Ford of my life.”

Some lyrics from Westlife’s overdone song: My love.

Also, some quotes from Glen Washington’s Strangers in the Night.

Vee lends me her long writing pads where she composes sonnets for Ib. I fill two of them. There are many couriers offering their services for the delivery of the letter. I can’t remember who exactly I trust to do the delivery.

I spend all afternoons of the second week by the poolside. Scratch that, I spend all afternoons in the pool. Just in case you are wondering what we used for sunscreen, Edwina has a large amount of Valon Petroleum Jelly that she assures us it’s the best. So we smear ourselves before jumping into the water. Don’t even begin to wonder how we wash it off after swimming.

So a few days later, as expected, I receive a reply. And you won’t believe it. It’s not a mushier declaration or anything. Well, he’s given me his address, and a mobile phone number which is like 07XX XX XX. Yep, 8 digit phone number. Then he goes on to say that his mobile phone had ‘haribikad’, and that he needed like a K to repair it. He doesn’t like asking money from chicks, but he will pay back. There! Can you believe it?

Do you think am going to dignify that with a reply? I have no idea where he got the idea that am a CMS (Cash Money Sister) from. I mean, how do you like ask me for money and am still in school? Never mind you are going to use it to repair an imaginary mobile phone. And like expected, here is my friend’s turned around reactions:

“Savvy, drop the guy. How can he sink so low?”

“Dump him like a hot potato.”

Even Vee gives the letter a mean sneer. Everyone gives their views and comments, whether called for or not. It’s as if the this whole saga was between them and Harrison. In a way it was: they had participated in the composing and delivery of the letters. It’s not really the idea of asking money, it’s just that how do you ask me that after we’ve met only once and exchanged two letters? Besides, his letters had spelling mistakes. That really gets to me.

So well, that becomes the end of that. Soon after that, a final letter that I didn’t bother to read. It’s details are told to me. Asking for forgiveness. Am like yeah, so long. In the rest of the weeks that followed, I never catch a glimpse of him. Am too busy with my papers.

It’s Tuesday the 15th, and guess what? It’s my last day in this school. My mum and K come to pick me up. As we slow down to join the traffic, I see a boy in my peripheral vision. I get one good last look at him as he turns the bend to school. Then we pull onto the main road and drive off.


3 Responses

  1. …. hahaha pwagu hupata pwaguzi… my sister help a brother out.

    Don’t make me regret my decision..

  2. wewe CMS…don’t be a miser, God will pay you back…

    Perhaps I was too harsh….but after just two meeting, and a couple of letters?

  3. did it ever occur to you that your friends could have been writting harrison’s letters? it used happen in my school

    Letters were the work of a collective effort, in all schools. Probably still is.

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