When I first walked into the bedroom, I saw a brown lady; stark naked. He was beside her, grinning like a monkey. No offence to monkeys.
They had quickly separated when I walked into the room. I saw shock in their eyes; guilt and confusion made them look awkward. And of course, profuse warm sweat made their skins glitter. Were they fighting? No one knows…
I asked, “Jemo niaje?” [Not his real name]. He sheepishly answered, “poa”! The response wasn’t from his normal deep heavy masculine voice. It was a shriek. It was rather a forced “poa” as of an adolescent whose voice hasn’t decided whether to be alto, soprano or bass.
And then it hit me. The lady wasn’t me. But, she was in our bedroom and on our bed. And Jemo ensured that she slept on my side of the bed. And then “kitu kikaniambia” [I had a realization], as if I hadn’t seen it till then…. he is cheating on you!
I asked another question, “Jemo, unafanya nini na huyu malaya”?
Jemo: [Jemo is quiet here]
Me: [Jemo!]
I didn’t know the speed with which I found a knife from the kitchen, but as we were told in primary school…it was with the speed of lighting or at a break-necking speed, if you like.
I didn’t blame the lady. Why could I blame one who didn’t know how much I had invested in the relationship. She didn’t know the torturous sex I had endured, even during my periods. Or the amount of money I had advanced him on several occasions. How could she know that I am the one who had paid the rent for the previous four months. Did she know that the mattress they were now on cost me Kshs. 11, 275 at Nakumatt.
She had nothing to do with extravaganza. She could be a prostitute in search of money to pay her rent or buy food. Or a tourist, who happened to be just passing by for a quickie. Or maybe, he was raping her.
I wouldn’t blame her. Maybe later. Later on…
So, I had to direct the knife at my betrayer. The cunning, opportunistic, venomous and manipulative liar.
I went for his kneck. I wanted to end his life and run away or kill myself too. I was doing the world a favour. I needed to stop this generation from “spreading pain”, or so I thought, at the moment.
He catapulted from bed just in time for the knife to slightly cut his left shoulder.
I didn’t stop.
I tried again.
He blocked using the pillow. The knife went straight in, but didn’t get through to the other side. I had aimed at his chest. I pulled it back to aim again. I was a ferocious beast intending to devour its enemy. In another life, Nat Geo World or Our Planet or any other related programs would have been grateful to record this fight even as an 11th wonder.
Then I saw his dangling manhood that still had a condom tucked into it. I estimated the exact place to cut. Ooops, I only got the thigh. The knife went deep. He leapt and wailed. It was a thin, terror-filled cry; too much from a man who is supposed to be the head of a family.
I even thought that his cries were overacted considering the fact that I hadn’t even started.
He lacked patience.
Jemo and I met in my first year at Hostel C, Moi University’s female hostel that hosted the most beautiful girls. Wolves were many and they often visited these premises. Looking back, I almost think that Jemo was the leader of these wolves. It was rumoured that this hostel hosted the highest number of men between 7pm and 6am. It was so impossible for one to go in and out of the hostel; a virgin.
That day, I had picked some fried fish from mama Oliech, some kales and ingredients. I had my laptop bag on one hand and my food on the other, the left hand. Jemo approached me and said one or two things and within a few minutes, he was carrying my laptop bag. Comrades are always friends. Well, within another couple of minutes, he was squeezing ugali and gobbling the head of my fish. I am not complaining. I was contributing to charity.
We met the next day at the Student’s centre. Both of us were “chasing” our HELB loans.
We bumped into each other a few days later. Again. And again.
He was a nice guy. The kind that pulls chairs for you or opens lecture hall doors. For some strange reason, he didn’t mind going to the kiosk with me to buy even tomatoes. Although he insisted in buying in bulk from a market further from school to cut on costs. Once or twice, he accompanied himself with some soda or yoghurt when visiting. He sang well, or so I thought. He taught me how to play FIFA. We swam together. We rented an apartment near school and moved in together. He escorted me to class sometimes, okay sorry, most times. Well, we were in a relationship and living together. What a mistake!
We knew each other very well such that he could almost read my thoughts…note; almost not entirely.
I couldn’t think that this particular guy, the one who almost reads minds can also read the prints of the unmentionables of other ladies.
He broke my heart.
He left me for the dead.
It was so painful.
Torture!
It was the kind of pain that you can’t point a finger at, yet, it is there. Eating you up. You can’t stop it.
Who remembers these songs;
Dunia haina huruma- Bahati Bukuku
Or Girl am gonna miss you – Milli Vanilli
Fernando- Abba
West life…?
For starters, they come in handy during such situations.
If you haven’t associated with any of these, then, girl/boy…you haven’t been heartbroken.
Back to the fight….
After his bitter plaintive signal cries, some of our neighbours rushed into the house. They immediately understood two things [only the intelligent did]; firstly, someone was going to die and secondly, a woman’s heart had been broken in the most inhuman way.
I still don’t know how an acrobatic jumped up and snatched away the knife in mid-air. I also don’t know the amount of energy that two others had to summon in order to restrain me. But, yeah, they tried. They faced me and won. I was pulled away. Once or twice, I threw some kicks. I bit some of my handlers. I punched. But, nothing lasts forever, right? My fight came to an end just like my “awesome” relationship.
I swore never to love, to date and not even to look at a man twice! Ha! [what anger can do!!]
I was done.
The next few days that followed remain the worst in my life. I cried for several nights. I would promise not to cry again and the next moment, I would be all tears.
It was so painful.
I refused to talk to anyone. I hid in my bedroom [Jemo moved out the same day, after the fight] and tried everything to distract my mind. Nothing worked. Weed and alcohol tried.
If you have been to Moi University, you will obviously know that the best weed is not sold. It is planted behind hostel M. No one takes care of it but, everyone is careful to take just enough. I broke that rule. I was always high. In my frustration, some few criminals took advantage and slept with me. I consented but, only to forget my pain. I was trying to trick my heart. To show it that men still loved me. It didn’t work. I wished for a quick death. I wanted it so bad, yet, I wouldn’t find enough strength to drink the poison I had bought; twice.
I wouldn’t wish a heartbreak on anyone else. Not even my worst enemy… except Jemo. He deserves to taste the pain.
I was dying slowing…
This elderly lady, let’s call her Jenny. We worshipped in the same church. We were leaders in the same department; children’s department. Her daughters were lovely. And they recited poems and sang every Sabbath, thus, I was always with them. We were always training with them. And Jenny never failed to bring us some snacks. She enjoyed seeing her razor-sharp daughters recite their pieces. We were good friends, I could say.
When I fell under the turmoil of heartbreak, she was the first person to notice. When I stopped going to church, she noticed. Her efforts of seeking an audience with me failed. I was a hard nut, if there is such a thing. After ignoring her calls for a long time, she came knocking on my door and found billows of bang smoke. If she was shocked, she didn’t show it on her face.
Jenny: Sasa dear?
Me: Poa.
Jenny: I have come to visit [she sits without waiting for an invitation to even come in]
Me: mmmnh…
Jenny: I used to smoke about three rolls daily. [she informs me. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care.]
Me: [I turn to look at her] ….
Once or twice she had joked about it but now that she blatantly mentioned it again, I knew straight away that it was true.
She looked around and said, “I will visit again. Get real weed if you have to smoke! And don’t dare ignore my calls.”
The word “calls” was spoken when she was half out of the door. The next day she called. I picked. She invited me for a football match that had been organized by her company…. It was a game between the male and female employees of the company but, anyone could join. The women had to be a double number of the men. The men still won. I was their goalkeeper. I might have conceded 7 goals.
We had lunch and left.
After 2 days, Jenny came in with a new pair of shoes. They were beautiful black leather shoes with a zip on the inner part. I loved them. Again, she dropped them and left after saying one or two things about flowers and cars. Completely unrelated if you ask me.
The next few days, she invited me for lunches and occasional suppers.
When I explained myself to her, she cried like a baby. She was more wounded than me. I had to console her. I feigned happiness. I threw out dry laughters; totally unconvincing. She pitied me too much. From a woman to another, she knew what I had lost and what it had cost me.
She stayed by my side. She talked to me. She smothered me with love.
This humble, energetic and happy woman was an angel sent from heaven to me. To give me hope and rebuild my peace.
We kept reading these two Bible verses, almost daily:
Philippians 1: 6 And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.
1 Corinthians 10:13 13 No temptation[a] has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted[b] beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted,[c] he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.
To this day, I am grateful and will forever be …. I love you Jenny, you know that, don’t you?
They say time heals. I don’t know who these people are…. but, they were right. I got over the frustration.
That was 3 years ago. And so I learnt;
You are not supposed to know too much about tomorrow for you to be happy, be happy now.
Faith functions best when you don’t know. And God has His own way. Sometimes, he allows difficult situations to happen to us to wake us up; to destabilize us. The less stable one is, the more muscles he/she builds. You are strong enough to withstand instability. God cares. He wants to show us what is good…and we know; all things work for the good of those who love the Lord; all things!
I was in a panel. My company was hiring. Jemo walked into the room carrying his certificates. We were hiring 3 interns for the finance department. He had pursued a Bachelor’s degree in Environmental Science.
When he saw me…he froze. He had to be told thrice to seat. He looked absent-minded.
Panellist 1: Welcome. What is your name. Please tell us about yourself.
Jemo: I have hurt so many people (His eyes were on me)
Me: This interview is not about your emotional journey and sexual escapades. We want to hire financial trainees. Are you still interested in this position?
(The 3 panellists followed his eyes and were led to me.)
Would he be hired?
I might as well let him have the job.
Then, you know what I will do next…don’t you?
Such a nice writer.simple,cohesive and real
Kudos!
what a story
Too hilarious
The suspense, wow…
Superb writting skills!