Incase , you missed part one.Read it here.
Viewers’ discretion advised.Some of the content here is not suitable for persons aged 16 and below.
Completely ensconced in the matatu culture of loud moving discos was the 14 of us on board to Bus station. In my warm hand lay a wrapped joint that I carefully examined.I decided to smell this green coloured substance before looking at its donor who was noticing me, from whom I collected 5 winks.
What really disturbed me was the deep chutzpah of this …………
What was I supposed to call him.We had not exchanged names.Here I was so desperate for letters of the alphabet to make out a name
.Chiding him for his boyish foolishness would sink in when I called him by name.Mama always taught me to get someone’s attention by dressing them by name.After a few rounds of simulations , that is Donny Boy , druggie lord, mutant Guy; I settled for the Metro boy.
Finally,we had reached bus station.I was debating what to do with the paper from my acquaintance, Donny the druggie Lord from Donholm.(Sorry, let’s stick to metro boy.)
I scampered for Dubois street to collect signature from a client and rushed home to preen myself up for The Meet.
Time check:7:30 pm EAT, the uber lady had dropped me at Dusitd2.I was received by Prof who cross-examined me for not asking him to pick me up in his Range of a Rover.I always told him I preferred not to inconvenience him.The truth being how he really is a disgrace to the male species. What I mean is ! Who gives the man the audacity to hit woman not once , not twice but countless times.I am sorry did I call that a man.In my contacts, it’s saved as it.I find it hard to believe we are friends of some kind.
Jema was dressed to the nines and Imani looked quite misplaced on our table.She was ready to rock and roll ,clad in a bomber jacket like a biker girl.We ensued in small debate about having friends with benefits.
Denison, the waiter presented the menus before our eyes.
I was out of my element.To be precise.I was a little all over the place.Imani implored to get it together and teased me how Daudi was rushing through Nairobi traffic to meet me.
“Girl, of course I know you like him.The way you’re always laughing in melodious tunes when he says something instead of that usual snorting.
Keep it together, lady”,said Imani.
Prof implored us to put our phones off and prepare for the night of our lives as he had a big surprise for us. I peered into my purse.Therein lay the joint, still unused.Five glasses of Long Island were carefully arranged on a tray and handed out before us.
I called Denison,
“Can I get a cup of strong camomile tea?”
“yes mum”, he replied.
“Party popper, pass it over to me to indulge.” said Prof.
Alas! A heart started thudding hard against my ribcage on hearing his voice in a heavy Burundian accent say, “Guys,better late than never, I am here.” Daudi was finally here. In that moment, I replayed Imani’s words in my mind,”Keep it together , girl.”
I planned my next move in a quest for closure.I needed God right now in this moment to deliver from his demons.I wanted to plead my case for forgiveness for enjoying and playing with them.
The previous night ,was the second time I dreamt of Daudi. A male creature-Dark chocolate, hairless and well-built:in bed.
Towering above me in all the right angles , exhaling heavily in such a passionate manner.
Was God going to torture me for considering this a miracle? I wanted him so bad. But I knew very well in my spiritual relationship, How God intended such encounters exclusively for the married.
In my head , I pictured him countless times presenting me before our friends as the reason he loves being in love.As his beloved wife .Or something romantic along those lines.I saw him being a great father to our children.I let Imani in on my persistent struggles as we had got in the habit of praying together.I hated how she was affirmative in the action of praying against these lustful spirits.
I needed to tell him, he needed to hear me professing my undying love for him after all these years.I texted Imani from under the table to help out with an emergency in the cloakroom.We excused ourselves.We went to the smoking area outside.Her brows furrowed in confusion as I asked her for help.She saw the cigarette and looked on as I borrowed a lighter from my neighbour and lit the joint.
Imani’s eyes were teeming with rage as she has a high moral fibre.Stop this madness, Kirabo.
I reiterated , “I need to muster the courage to tell him.”
Imani looked at me in dismay, “why!
There is so much wrong about this
I naively responded “yet it feels so right.”
Imani said in a more stern voice “you’re making the first move.
some roles are meant for men alone.
Do you really love him?”
I replied ,”Yes , he is the love of my life.”
“What do you love about him?”
The reality of that question slapped me hard in my face.I had clearly misspelled love spelt as lust in my book of accountability.
There I was. A girl trapped in a woman’s body.
We successfully managed to get the attention of the other persons.I put out the cigarette.I was put off by its’ repugnant smell akin to burning christmas trees.
Shortly after ,we joined the others where I decided to inquire whether girls and guys could just be friends. Everyone answered save for myself who was riding on the excuse of having asked the question.We called it a night at midnight when Daudi offered to take me home.
I thanked God for the opportune moment to let him on how we needed to disclose our silent relationship.I cleared my voice and said so many words to which replied,
‘Kirabo, I really will miss you, and like you.
He spoke like he had a bone in his leg.
A brief silence that lasted what seemed to be entirety passed.
He continued,”But, not in any manner to jeopardise our friendship.”
Just like that our ship of love had sailed off course.Feelings of resentment trickled in and filled up whatever love had placed in my heart.Everything was headed to the left.
I sheepishly replied, I understand .”Friends Forever.”
He repeated , “Friends forever.”
I called Imani to vent properly.I let the well waters down my face and she seemed so un-bothered which made me sob even more louder.The last time I experienced such rejection was during high school in Tanzania when my parents forgot to pick me up upon completion of my finals.I felt so alone , so rejected , just like in this present moment.
“We have got to move forward.
Girl, you don’t have to chase what God sends.
It comes naturally to you.” were the words of counsel Imani offered.
What do you know about rejection ,Imani?
This is not any guy,
This my Daudi.”, I said while sulking.
“That’s the thing.
You missed the point.
It is for the better, you gotta guard your heart and I would like for us to pray about it, Here and now.”
I stubbornly refused and she took my hand and prayed ,I joined in on the prayer
“Lord, fix it.Work it out, for God’s sake.”
Imani rudely interrupted.
God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage for those we can and wisdom to know the difference, living one day at a time enjoying one moment at a time.
The next day
DISCLAIMER. ANY Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s wild imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Part III is underway.