Have you ever met someone so incredibly your type you keep wondering “Where have you been all my life?” Someone who gets you from the word riaaaa(horse language folks).Someone both solid and liquid it’s like taking in air. Beach air. No pain, just pleasure. No disclaimer alerts, just seamless chemistry. Someone with whom there can never be awkward moments. You know like when you are reproducing intelligent Eurobond jokes to your dad and then suddenly that durex advert comes on telly…that one time your phone will be charging in faraway lands, last year’s newspaper that is always lying around will go M.I.A and the remote control will have leprosy. No one will dare touch it. Just that one time. You don’t want to be the bothered one so while the white girl recites how great sex moves her, your black self will maintain like a statue .Stiffer than a well-fed AFC Leopard player’s mazigwembe. See, trick is play dead. You know what they say about living in the moment? Don’t do it. Die in the moment. You can’t even blink because what if your eyelids flap too loud? What if the old man turns and your eyes meet and in that single ana kwa ana moment your feigned innocence is stripped. In that single moment all your 16GB of raunchy sexcapades if any will flash right before his eyes and he’ll never look at you the same again. Playing dead never killed anyone at least. Methinks I should open a college on the 13th floor of somewhere and offer these tips as a certified course. Hehe. But just before my business instincts kick in Mayweather style, let me tell you about someone I can never have awkward durex moments with. Here is a story about a girl I’ve known for barely three months but feels like a decade. A girl I’ll go a century with if God wills, till our hairs are grey and our days are golden.
Sabina Wacheke Njeri. This girl is fire. She is ice. She’s a grenade about to pop and still waters that run deep. Of all my friends I have not met one with such energy. So jazzed with life. Bursting with bouts of joy and laughter with a stellar smile brighter than my future. Well I have another friend, Fiona, who is quite something. Girl got booty, knows how to use filter on Instagram and I can almost see her as a valid socialite in another life .Just not this one. Not this one where she takes Electrical engineering and Schrödinger’s equation, Maxwell equations and Fourier series all want a piece of her. The only lite she can now be is elite. Take heart mami. On the other hand, Sabina takes entrepreneurship but Karl Max has clearly not capitalized on her will to live. Every time I visited her campus room I left a happier person(with a fuller belly too. Bless you SabinaJ).She has this effect that rubs on you like that designer Dior cologne scent. Exquisite. Elegant .Tweaks your confidence to rooftop levels. You leave like you just bagged the Lotto jackpot when in fact two assignments, a report to submit and a C.A.T await for you the next day. Talk of fleeting pleasures. Fleeting but the impressions last a lifetime.
I met her on a Tuesday, 8th March this year. God must have been smiling a good one on me that day. Either that or what they say about fate is true. It brings the best people to our lives without our afore knowledge. We met in a North Rift matatu headed to Nairobi where I was to attend the creative writing master class given by renowned writer/blogger Biko Zulu. Imagine a panda with chopsticks, or to bring this closer home, a Kisii with ripe yellow juicy sweet bananas…that’s how excited I was. So I enter the matatu last and I sit next to this tall Jang’o guy who was reading “Star Wars”*rolls eyes* and talking on phone a quarter the time(Hi MalcolmJ).On my right is a light-skinned lady who looked out of the window half the time. The chronically antisocial type, I thought to myself. But time proved me wrong. By the time she was alighting at Limuru I had discovered we were from the same campus, we exchanged contacts and the rest is a developing [hi]story. I don’t need to be under oath to say that journey was worth every minute and shilling for the sole reason that I met Sabina. I wouldn’t have started a hash tag on twitter to insult Biko in the off chance that he had cancelled the class say because his forehead had grown larger overnight and he couldn’t let us see that side of him; or maybe his cow was giving birth and he had to be there to experience that surreal moment of life unto life. Plus *hash truth is I have kedo 34 followers on twitter so to what end? Also I do not see Biko owning a cow, just doesn’t seem right in my head. He’s more of a chicken/kulukulu guy.And those lay eggs, nothing surreal about that…but he showed up like all gentlemen should and in that line she showed up. Double win for me.
I interviewed her this Monday after a lot of second-guessing. Mostly because it was a delicate balance between our relationship as friends which I take personally and the fact that the world would now know her not-so-rosy story through my blog. But the good outweighed the bad. So I made the call…
She picked it.
One day twenty four years ago in Nazareth hospital, Kiambu County a bouncing baby girl was born. She was not your ordinary baby since she could only breathe through her mouth. What was later diagnosed as nasal blockage led to this baby spending the first ten years of her life juggling surgeries between India and Aga Khan Hospital in Kenya. Her single- mother who used to work for some Indians could only raise money from family, harambees and her employers’ generosity. To add salt to injury, the eldest sister passed on. It did not quite hit her since she was only eight and with her own health struggles to deal with…Life moved on as it always does .In 2002 aged ten she got well and went on to be admitted straight to class two in Merry times academy because she was bright enough.Yeah folks, there’s a difference between the English at Aga Khan hospital and that at Gakoromone dispensary. She went on to ace her KCPE exams scoring a clean 395 marks that earned her a place in the school of her dreams,St Anne’s Girls Lioki.Things were finally looking up for this young girl.
She spent only one term in St. Anne’s. Just when she was starting to enjoy the fruits of her hardwork, bad luck struck and it left evidence. Her elder brother who worked as a matatu driver was involved in a grisly accident that left him admitted. This is on top of the fact that he had a disabled child who was being taken care of by his mother. When it rains, it pours. Money had to come in from somewhere. So Sabina dropped out of St. Anne’s and started looking for a job as a househelp to raise money for the family. Her first could-be employer saw her worth and enabled her join an orphanage ,Alpha joy Children’s home.So she left her family and life started all over again.
Just like that Sabina descended ladders from a prestigious school to a little known Kikuyu-speaking day school that had less regard for education and more for passing time. It had even been nicknamed Kahuruko which is Kikuyu for place of rest. Her spirit was dampened but it did not die. She defied the odds and rose ranks to be the head-girl of that school, spearheading major changes through Achiever’s club, Press club and the GnC club which she chaired. In the four years she spent in the orphanage Sabina never for a moment forgot her value. She knew she was of different mettle, an eagle among chicken. Despite this fact she did not think highly of herself than the rest; she mentored them, preached hope and walked the talk. It is said that what you give is what you get. Sabina was the first student in her school to join University having scored a B+ in a school whose best grade had been C+ since its creation. She is celebrated to date.
Of life after high school and fighting cancer…
In October 2013 Sabina Njeri joined Moi University in Eldoret to pursue entrepreneurship, a course she says is cut just right for her. I tell her it is because she is a Kikuyu and we all know Kuyus and mbesha. She thinks differently. As early as first year Sabina managed to chair one of the most progressive clubs in Moi,Enactus. Under her term the club with the aid of well-wishers bought two dairy cows for a nearby school but she left afterwards. While at Alphajoy,Britam Company had noted the immense potential in her and took her up to work with them during her long holiday. She maintains that the relationship is still cordial. With a few cents from here and there Sabina managed to open a barbershop for a few of her friends that she left in the orphanage. She also picked up a lady from there who did not make it to university and put her under the KASNEB CPA program. She says that when they are happy, she is happy. Selfless.
Sabina’s elder brother (mentioned earlier) was diagnosed with prostrate cancer in August,2013.The worst part is that it was at stage 3B,a tad too late. Sabina describes his time of illness as a hard time. Many times in campus her mother could call her and break down in tears. Those times when it became too much to bear. When it got to the point where she had to change his 41 year-old son’s diapers like he was a baby all over again… Sabina could only comfort her mama and all that emotional burden could be offloaded on her. It reached a point where all she wanted was her brother to leave, if only that would ease his pain. But there’s never a right time to say goodbye to the ones you love. On the 16th of September,2015 he left. This time it hit her, the wound is still fresh.
Sabina’s mother was diagnosed with cervical cancer shortly before her son’s demise but only let the family know afterwards. It might seem like the world is really crumbling down on her but Sabina tells me this is a brand new fight. I concur with her. What choice decided that cancer ultimately means death sentence? It is not. If cancer were called butterfly, would it still sound as scary? As unsavory as this may sound we will all die someday, only the when and how are undisclosed. That is how the system works. But what is life without hope? The moment we have we risk losing just like every moment we live we risk dying .And so we should love now and hope now because as sand shifts through an hourglass so are the days of our lives. Sabina mum’s case was diagnosed in its very early stage so we hope she’ll receive the right treatment soon enough. Access to the only radiotherapy equipment in the country at Kenyatta Hospital has proven difficult because of the long queue. She is slated for later in December or early next year. Getting an organization to cater for financial sponsorship has been quite a task too, with none forthcoming so far. Sabina’s family is struggling but the day shall soon break.
By the time I wind up on our interview after close to two hours I am a total emotional mess .I hope my voice does not betray me. On the other end Sabina does not crack for a minute. Which I’m grateful for because I wouldn’t know what to say. I decide to change the topic and ask her whether she’s taken. She laughs a bit, tells me she saw that coming and answers she’s not. Ideal man? Tall enough for her to hear his heartbeat without crawling up his chest. So for stingy Okuyu guys whose heart is in their wallet or akina Kiplagat whose heart is in the feet please keep off. Short men have been catered for too, condition is you got to wear spectacles. Medicated specs pris,not those hideous green digagas that Gor Mahia fans don to matches. Bless you Gor Mahia. No stones please.
Sabina Njeri is the kind of friend I’ll be in a chama with twenty years to come. When my son will grow his first pubic hair and think he’s too man to obey me and his daddy; smoking the weed of that generation and glorifying ass(not the animal folks),I will holla at auntie Njeri. That time Nairobi will be a shadow of its former self. Machakos will be the new Nairobi. Sauti Sol will be the Beatles and our kids will listen to Diamond’s music and marvel at his vocals and message in deep awe. Robert Alai will finally have a street in his name and team mafisi will be a registered political party with manifestos and branches all over. There will be a superhighway on top of Thika superhighway and a commission of inquiry will probe into the matter, swindling taxpayers money while at it before finally changing its name to Thicker Superhighway. I will call Sabina and she will show up. She will come with njahi and a sack of waru that she will claim her mama forced her to bring along but we’ll all know she actually just brought all that waru. Then she will speak some Jesus into my son or slap sobriety into him with embellishments of “unajua siku zetu…” and a series of hallelujah vibes. My son will see the light and straighten his ways and I will love auntie Njeri more. More than I love her now.
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