Lately I’ve been having conversations with myself. Monologues that never seem to end. They drone on and on, as if my mind was truly unoccupied even when it’s not. Sometimes my monologues are violent. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. Sometimes they are full of reason and hope and optimism and endless possibilities. During these times my heart threatens to come apart at its seams, pumping and pumping. It’s a pity to have a weak heart in the world we live in today so I have dutifully trained mine to play hard, never falter heart. Never falter. A rock the size of an elephant be thrown at you but don’t you dare flinch! Put yourself together and pump heart. Pump. Hard!
A penny for my thoughts? No? Well, here they are anyway.
A couple dozen days ago at about five pm I received a text message from IEBC. It was one of those ‘usual’ days that just happen to occur. Days with the personality of a cardboard that exist on the calendar for quorum-just to get us by to the next day or birth-day or worse still, the graveyard. I have low affinity for usual days. I go to lengths to avoid them. Usual days have the taste of cold bland coffee. Coffee that went to school to be coffee but dropped out at an early age with unfinished taste as a mark of it. I was required to report at Kasarani constituency offices for an interview the following day at eleven in the morning yet here I was, rusty as it can get and hundreds of miles from the capital. After counting my luck and seeing that it was on the flip side I called my golden-goose-hatched egg a bluff. Golden-goose because the speculated pay was thirty grand and only the heavens can attest as to how bad I could use thirty grand at this point in life. The only ‘sponsor’ I have is married to my mum and my mama is a jealous lover .But I didn’t wallow in mourning for what-could-have-been. No. I nipped that ‘moneybag’ prospect at the bud, muffled it to silence and went on with my (un)eventful day like nothing had happened.
A couple dozen days later I am standing at a very busy terminal somewhere in Nairobi waiting for someone. The estimated time from his location to mine is fifteen minutes at most. I decide to exercise patience, a lesson life has imposed on me, while listening to some slow Naija love song that makes me want to stop the nearest good-looking stranger walking by and tell him ” Folake gimme love o! I wanna have your babies o!” Fifteen minutes drag to thirty and then forty-five and by the time an hour is clocking I want to lash at that same stranger “Never mind, I am an empowered ISO Certified alpha-female! I don’t need no man! I am capable of making my own babies!” …Needless to say, the said date arrives a few minutes later and I give him my most cheerful hug because I don’t like making harsh judgments about people who arrive late. Maybe he was busy growing a garden of roses for me. Never underestimate Kenyan men.
Instead of a bouquet of roses, what I get for three-quarter of the entire time we spend together is sparse attention all thanks to SportPesa which keeps my company well-occupied. This is even more hurtful to a person whose sense of humor needs constant approval such as yours truly. The guy sits there, giving me either half-baked sentences or mono syllables which are interrupted by a phone call to some ‘accomplice’ where statements like “nimekutumia game” are exchanged. All this while I hold on to grace and relentlessly entertain my fellow human being, never losing my cool. I constantly whisper to my heart “Peace, be still” and when I finally board the vehicle home I cross this game off my list because if it was once ever a draw now it is a lost game for sure. ”Bet imeungua.”
The previous day to this I was pacing outside an iron gate at seven in the pm devising ways of how to jump over to the other side. The key to the gate had been locked inside. ‘Where’s a tape measure when you need one?’ I wondered. After much probe and mental revision of the Charles Darwin theory I resolved to radio carbon-dating to measure the length and breadth(width is for sissies) of the aforementioned gate so as to apply the Schrödinger’s equation in determining the frictionless loss of energy, the phase angle and the error of continuity in scaling this protective perimeter. To confirm my measurements I thought this would be an appropriate time to finally apply the formula of finding the area of a trapezium which I did, much to my amusement. However, as we all know of vagaries of nature, those things like to stand naked between mortals and success and my case was not any different. They manifested themselves in terms of self-doubt and thick thighs which could not stay in an elevated position on the gate for more than three and a half seconds. I tried every position imaginable to the human mind and the sight must have been ridiculous to a silent observer. Let’s just say I retreated from the battle front a few minutes later, sparing my body and soul the energy for other greater causes to come, say, mass voter registration?
Yesterday I read this line in a Mark Twain book that caught me by the chords of my spirit. It goes” It is a little thing-glass is-until it is absent, then it becomes a big thing”. Glass in this case refers to a window pane but the depth of this line caught me in an uncommon place. For all the things we consider small are mighty when they’re gone.Like this
short aimless post.
If at any point of reading this you were confused or at loss of the “theme” or “purpose” or “inspiration” behind this piece, please note that the first line I typed initially was “I am in love with a banana” which I quickly backspaced upon the realization that that was my personal life and nobody really cares!