A Recipe for Jealousy

Another ordinary day in Kenya. The sun rose in the East, from the JKIA — Jomo Kenyatta International Airport — and later on after about twelve hours set in the West, somewhere there in the Eastlands area. In between was everything you will expect in a 2017 Kenya.

Politics was on the menu like it’s the norm; lawyers, politicians, and political analysts of all kinds, and any other Tom, Dick and Harry with a grasp of the current happenings in the country did nothing but discuss the repeat of Presidential election to be held on 17th October and the Maraga Petition — petition to remove CJ David Maraga — filled by a certain audacious Jubilee Mp with an ugly name I must say, and also the unending NASA–IEBC stalemate. No love lost between these two.

We also had the untamed Moses Kuria, Mp for Gatundu South, President Uhuru Kenyatta’s home constituency finally being arrested for profiling Kenyans who didn’t vote for the incumbent in the last election. This was after the bashing of both the NCIC and its chairman, Francis Ole Kaparo by angry Kenyans on social media. Even as I write this, the loose “honourable” Mp is roaming freely, waiting for another opportune moment to strike again, helping worsen the already volatile Country.

But that’s not the reason for this impromptu post, a sure recipe for chaos in my small world. It’s not the reason I’m seated here, reminiscing about the good old days, thinking aloud about some of the good dear friends I used to have around that unfortunately have no more. Nostalgic feeling. Some are still around but we rarely see each other, unless it’s through the social media. One of those is Nzilani, a lady friend of mine. She’s among those I keep telling myself I don’t ever wanna forget as long as I’m still smoking on God’s good oxygen. Thought about using an alias or even an acronym instead of her real name in this post, but it wouldn’t matter much, so I stuck with her real name.

The girl is one of those social media girls with thousands of followers. The kind that post a photo on Facebook or Instagram and after like 10 minutes, she has over 100 likes with a surprising number of comments, some in languages you’ve never heard of. She’s a nubile young brown girl with so much life. She bears this innocent childish look that can sometimes be befuddling, even to some of her close friends like me. Apart from the fact that she’s careless — which I think is unusual for a girl — she’s quite hard-working. Could have preferred to move with her mum to Thika town, but decided to remain behind in Nairobi and live her life, which is commendable.

Before I go any further, my sincere hope is that your boys, both real and imaginary, won’t be baying for my poor blood. Let them know I’m not trying to snatch you away from them. If I wanted to do that, I would have done it years ago when you were still that innocent girl, still staying with your mama in that old apartment. But I think I tried, to be honest, thank God you didn’t fall for my little seduction tricks or else by now you would already be my ex, or bored stiff in that relationship. As you already know I’m not quite a party guy, a complete contrast of you and by the way hope this is the nature of most writers.

Living in seclusion in some isolated villa in a Godforsaken country, doing nothing just writing like Balthazar, somewhere in Alexandria. How I dread about this! You know what’s funny, I wanted to be a rapper. Which kind of rapper have you heard of that hates parties!

Once again thank the most high God I chose writing. I believe that I can do more to make life a better place as a writer than I would as a rapper, with all due respect to rap. Not in any way to mean that I will forget about music for good. Once in a while I will drop a song or two, but it will have to be conscious music, close to Kendrick Lamar’s. Informative. Knowledge is the key to real power. Do you remember you wanted to be in my videos as a vixen? Haha… I would have let you in almost every one of my songs, even if it was a dirge, until it start sounding like pure bias.

It’s not like I miss you, or anything. Believe me when I say I don’t, because you already know what I do when I miss you. For the benefit of “others”, I write you a song, follow it up with a recorded acapella and sent it towards you at Godspeed through WhatsApp. Girl this shit will go on, at least as long as you still got my digits. Hope after this, some black forces won’t be on your ass trying to force you to lose them digits. Trust me I know how Kenyan brothers operate.

Last week after posting the story of the other girl, guys were all over me like, “we know that girl”, “is she your girlfriend?”, “are you sleeping with her?”, or “what did your girlfriend think?”, and many other questions and remarks. Guys you know no shit! You know nothing about what goes on in a writers head when scribbling, unless you are one. No one knows what was going on through my head or the real reason I wrote that post, or even the real reason I’m writing this one here. Unless you open up my scalp like in one horrendous scene in the GRIMM, that horror movie Nzilani gave me that I just accepted out of courtesy — I didn’t want to disappoint her, make her feel like her movie taste is wanting — believe me you will never know. Since I’m sure you will read this post, let me try to expound on what I meant. I hate horror movies. The last one I had watched was mirrors, back in highschool. I’m better of with GOT, even if my homie, Bor says he can never sit down and waste his precious time watching a movie that has no sight of a phone — Pre–Bell era.

As I finish this, Nzilani, just know I’m still mad at you for not alerting me early enough that girl was cheating on me. You chose to remain mum, which is not what friends do for each other, but maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on you because she was your “friend” too. Loyalty to the end, right? But don’t worry, I settled that shit long time ago in A polygraph test for my next my girl, and believe it or not, my girlfriend told me that’s her favorite post of all my posts. Crazy, right? But she’s a sweet girl. She said I wrote that post high on emotions. Haha…

Now I gotta bow out girl, but before that, I want to ask you to keep it up. Keep that fire burning. Keep dreaming, and don’t ever think of giving up. Nowadays not even the sky is the limit. Just work hard and always remember to take care of yourself and above all, God above everything else. Told me you do go to church, which I didn’t buy by the way, but hope you were telling the truth. Everyone appreciates a God-fearing woman.

Last but not least, don’t think I have forgotten about that graduation present, and recently, a birthday present — though this one you coaxed me — that I promised you. I owe you that.

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