Deep. Intense.
That’s how his kiss felt.
Comfortable tension
In how my name he’d mention.
It wasn’t the first time
His lips had met mine;
But it was the way he made me feel like it would be the last.
Oblivious of his real intentions
But strangely aware of his expectations.
We didn’t just stumble upon this moment
Even though it had been ten years.
This was still a result of a guided calculation.
A well planned schedule.
A coincidence of wants and desires; and lust.
Perfection. Articulation.
This wasn’t a hungry chap at a food festival
Or a child at a friend’s party.
This was a man who knew how to feed
And still leave you in want.
This was a man who thought only of himself
And still managed to make you care too.
He was a slave master you thought rewarded you
He was a king you would dream to please
He was a small god; or a small devil.
Letting you be happy to do his will.
He was beautiful, especially in his speech.
Manipulating, where you would do his bid
A leader, how he would let himself in.
Convincing, in why he would never commit
Deceiver, seeing as how I’m lying here
Thinking about his mysterious ways.
As he thinks of another to leave in this state.
First of all it has been awhile
since I had anything to write. Not that this will be a huuuggee piece I just
thought I’d break the silence. Secondly, happy new year :)
So last Monday I had to give a
speech as part of my assignment. A tribute speech. Frankly I was super
blank even on that Monday morning. We were to acknowledge our role models and
people who have really impacted our lives- for the better I presumed. Because
if I was to give a speech based on impact a lot of fuckboys would’ve been on
that list lol so obviously, I chose to speak about my mother. Obviously in my
case because I realized I don’t have a role model. I don’t aspire to be like
anyone. I mean there are goals here and there and a lot of people’s lives I’d
want but there’s no “ultimate” role model. My mother was the closest I could
get. Others in class, especially ladies, gave speeches on their mothers as well.
How they’re the best, they are women of worth,
and how they would do anything for them and vice versa. One even started “I’m
not just giving a speech on my mum because there was no one else to talk about…”
and I’m just seated there like “Weh! Call me out why don't you.”
When it was my turn to speak I
got up and simply stated “I know your mums are extraordinary and they’re the
best but I’ll give a tribute to my mum because she’s so weird and is the most
ordinary human being I know.” And everyone looked at me with such judgemental
eyes. But I know if my mum was there she would’ve enjoyed that speech. So this is like the story of my life lol. Basically my mum
is weird and don’t get me wrong I respect that woman she’s on some other level
I think I’ll reach only when I’m above forty. I like to believe she’s fikad
that self-actualization point in her life where she doesn’t care anymore, she
doesn’t keep up appearances, she’s TOO REAL and she just does her. And it seems
as though it’s the most ordinary thing to do until you stumble upon generation
waste-his-time-2k16 and realize how rare that is. My mother has broken down in
the most eccentric of ways and it just blows my mind till today.
I remember a
time in class five when we used to live in Ngumo in some estate I won’t reveal
because my old neighbours may remember me lol. One Sunday she took an umbrella
and a paper bag and announced her departure to Kenyatta Market to buy
groceries. She didn’t show up that night. We called her phone only to hear it
ringing in her room. We called all our relatives and friends and no one had any
idea where she was. Naturally, we were worried. My small brother who was then a
jumpy one-year-old cried all night and I’m not even joking. It was so hard to sleep. That night I had dreams of her being kidnapped and yoh my
imagination just took off. On Monday I went to school and came back home
expectant only to find my sad brother still crying. Those two have some weird
bond ((lastborns SMH)). I remember I didn’t even go outside to play that day as
was the routine right after fun factory till around 6:30. By Tuesday the police
were involved, this was a missing persons’ case. No one in my estate knew, no
one in my school knew because we literally could not explain what had happened.
Then we get home on Wednesday afternoon with my other brother and we walk in to
find my mum seated laughing with one of my auntie’s, paper bags full of
shopping around everywhere. My brother ran to hug her and everyone was so
freaking overjoyed. I just stared, climbed up the stairs to my room to put my
bag down but really it was just to process how this woman thought her
disappearing act was funny. I said hi eventually but I don’t remember asking her
where she had been. I think I knew deep down I was not ready to understand
that.
She later revealed to me last year that she’d gone to some random hotel,
still around Ngumo and just wanted to be alone for a couple of days to sleep.
Okay.
In class eight one Sunday
morning, ((why Sunday though, now that I think about it)) my dad, siblings, housie and I went to church and left my mum sleeping. At this point I was old enough
to know not to ask grown-ups certain questions like “Why are we going and she’s
not going?” because the answer would always be a long lecture I used to
summarize into “Do as I say and not as I do.” So we come home for lunch, we
ring the doorbell and no one answers. We call, the phone it’s mteja. We didn’t
panic this time considering what she’d put us through three years earlier so we
just went to a nearby hotel and bought lunch and soda. We tried calling from
time to time and leaving messages but it was no use. We drove back to the
estate and waited in the car till 9:00 pm only to realize this woman had locked
us out and had no plans of opening that door. Also because the lights were on
in the house and we could see someone moving around. We had to sleep at a hotel
that night. It was a very confusing night. We woke up the next morning, went
back home and rang the bell. She opened up, dressed ready for work, left
the keys in my hands and left. (Why me mother?). I missed school that day and I
didn’t read the bullshit letter my mum wrote to the class teacher the following
day to explain why. Also because she had stapled it.
Growing up with such a dramatic
mother who eventually toned down (and passed it on to me) made me think a lot. I
think of all the bad decisions I’ve made in life, all the stupid nonsensical
ones that I have no reason for. Some mistakes that we make over and over and
over again in different versions of one person. ((My friend was busy convincing
me that I have a “type” but that’s a story for another day.))
And I was
thinking of how we often react to situations especially the ones we’ve put
ourselves in. You knew what you needed to do but you just did your own things
anyway. We either beat ourselves up for it or we choose to blame the thing or
person that influenced our decision. One of the paradoxes of life is the fact
that we are free to choose but we are not free of the consequences of our
choices. The whole concept of free will. I digress. But like in Jessie J’s song
where she says it’s okay not to be okay, life is exactly that sometimes.
Nobody likes to fail and mess up although bad decisions make for good stories. And some people seem to make a lot
more mistakes than is allowed, I think I’m one of them. But what I’ve learnt is
to be true to myself more than anybody else. It’s okay to break down. It WILL
affect people and all but sometimes you just have to do what’s right for you and
your life because the alternative is worse. I was too young then to understand
why my mum acted the way she did but now I do. Especially more as a grown up and a woman. That
was like her version of throwing boiling porridge at her children or cutting
off her husband’s manhood. (Soon as I typed that I realized I was talking about
my father but I’ll just leave this here and hope we all focus on the forest and not the
trees).
I grew up knowing it’s seriously okay to be weird. It might not gain
you friends or popularity but it will give you some sort of peace at least. And
you can be a better version of yourself for a moment before you conform to
society. Sometimes you just need to sleep or think about your life away from everybody
else even if it means withdrawing and doing some serious introspection. A lot
of times we have to sijui be the bigger person blah blah and it’s of course
advisable to think before you leap. But letting it out there is important too.
Go out have a smoke and think about how much shit you got yourself into then
buy food and take a nap; and think about it tomorrow. Not everything has to be
solved today. Not every mistake has to be dissected and evaluated so that we
don’t make it again or else we didn’t learn anything at all. Not everyday life
is going to go according to plan. Learning to live with the mistakes you made
is one of the greatest gifts you can ever give yourself because peace of mind is much more
fulfilling.
Also that poem is un-related to
the topic of discussion but I just thought it needed recognition :)
