CLOWNERY: A PRIMER TO HEARTBREAKS!

 

PART 2

If you are a believer in love, then you sure must know that it is one of the most beautiful emotions when handled right. However, its charm works like a drug, probably the most fucked up of them all, as you can’t control who you love and worst of all, there is no rehabilitation center if you overdose on it or become an addict altogether. Mejja in his most recent depiction of lyrical prowess in the hitsong “Kalale”, spits nothing but venom to those men who find themselves entangled in this seemingly mysterious web when he says;” Ukirushwa manzi kalale, compe ni compe roho safi.” On that morning, and in that moment, I exclusively fell into this category and maybe I would have heeded to his advice, just that it wasn’t there. The images sent to me were crushing me piece by piece as I hoped they were nothing but a show of proper photo shopping skill and intellect pieced up by the vicious agents of “mtachana tu”. But no, it wasn’t, at least this time round it was the master, “utaachwa tu” or rather “ulishaachwa tu” taking center stage. I could feel the kiss from where I was seated as my alcoholic tears socked the bedbug infested mattress at least just to notify the blood soldiers that their primary feeder was in no mood for sucking at least for the rest of that day.

Wait, maybe you don’t get it! This was my so called girlfriend kissing another guy, both of their eyes blinded by passion, and capturing the wholesomely perfect moment. It was then that it all dawned on me how much we had actually shared over and above the sheets just to get the vibe and energy to capture a perfect kiss on camera. The thought alone drenched off any remaining alcoholic content in my body, but surprisingly, I was neither sober nor drunk, no!! For the very first time I was heartbroken and believe you me, I would have traded whatever I was feeling with either drunkenness or sobriety because it was unbearable.

Well, as the book of clownery chapter 1 verse 2 to 4 says, “believe her even if she is lying because her word is greater than any evidence you have.” As I approached her on this journey to our end, I kept on referring to this holy book, as I hoped there could still be a second chance. One reply led to another and paragraphs were soon overflowing, and for the very fast time the Cheetah was seemingly running away from the antelope. What struck me most in this exchange was that she was more interested in who had concealed her most priced secret than the contents of the secret or even mending the secret altogether. She even insisted that she had made plans of her own to inform me of her seemingly eventful escapades and yet for the previous three months she never wanted me to visit her cause she was in a “bad place”, a place bad enough to accommodate a hyena it seemed. In fact they were two, one unknown to me but the other a close confidant.

Finally, I got off that conversation and got out of bed and I walked straight to a friend’s room and vented out to her as she watched in sympathy. She could not find the words to soothe my soul probably because she had been in the same situation a year earlier and she knew too well that the pain needed no soothing nor description cause there was none. In the days to come, she became my therapist and advised me here and there just to ensure I retained my sanity, as I battled through my deeply struck clownery to let go and stop using alcohol as an excuse to try and rekindle a flame that was no longer mine. Unknown to us, on that day of heartbreaks and tears, we sparked another journey. Well, today marks three years on our official journey and I’m glad that despite the Lord shutting the door to my heart, He kept the window open. Anyways, if you love, love! don’t just be a clown at it cause even a room full of mirrors won’t show you the reflection of stupidity and foolishness in your very face.

TIME TELLS IT ALL

PART 1

The beauty of time is one that amazes me every time a second passes by; what’s even more interesting is the whole imagination of how this phenomenon takes place. Wait! Let’s take a sip and visualize this whole concept and try to integrate it to reality. Amazing, Right? Well, the beauty of all this takes me three years down the line back in 2017, a year I’d say showed me storms and shadows and a bright spark at the very end.

Just as tradition dictates, we were out drinking on that Friday night as we let off some steam in readiness for our end year exams in the week to come, our club of choice; Sabina Joy. Well, the club just as the name insinuates did not disappoint for “joy” was all over and any man fruitful enough would have had his fair share of this holy fruit. Some of my friends got lucky and in fact they did not have to go up the tree to have a taste of Sabina’s fruit, instead, the fruit obligingly adhered to Newton’s law of universal gravitation and landed motionlessly under their drought infested trees which would sure do with some wetness lest they die of thirst. In the midst of all these, I was seated at the far right corner of the club ”tumbling” down my emotions as I stared thoughtfully at the blinding lights, nothing but my Joy in mind. She was as many would put it, a sight to fathom; a lady blessed both from the rear and front views with equally complementary side views. She was a beauty!  For months, she had been the lady in my heart, queening her way through my auricles and ventricles, just to establish her dominant undying love for me. I was hers and she was mine and every time we pictured our future, it was nothing but pure bliss, with lots of love and heartwarming fantasies. However, as destiny would dictate it, just after about 8 months, she relocated into my mind, even without a one month’s notice and an application for her newly found residence. She sure adjusted quickly enough and that’s why even on that night I couldn’t stop thinking about her and trying to piece up the reason for her sudden change of heart.

Well, just as the proponents of the “mtaachana tu” school of thought had it, my fate had been sealed and a pandemic of prime tears awaited me early the next morning. If tragic was a period it would have been that morning for me. As I stared into those pictures, I wished I had not picked that call up!! In that moment I was the clown, very stupid in love, not knowing the weight that those five seconds of pain had in directing me to my destined path, a path I tread on to date.

To be continued……..

WAYNING WITH THE ANGELS

The 9^th of August is one of those days I’d wish wasn’t part of the calendar. It’s a day of reflection, pain, sorrow, and most of all regret. Well, time and tide waits for no man, and as sure as the wise men were, it waited for none of us. The other man in question, a 22 year old “light skin” luhya (as many would jokingly put it), now the late. This time round, he was not late for evening preps so that I could print his name down among the latecomers, no not all. He was not even late for meals or late to join in at party, no. for the first and only time on that fateful day, he became late in life, and worst of all he did not come out of it alive despite the struggles to be on time, he was unable, his angels had knocked for 22 good years and now it was their time to dine and shine with their very own.

Confidently so, I’d say he was the extroverted type. A man who would mingle and jingle with literally anyone regardless of social class and background. His personality was sure one to dine with the Muraya’s at night and still get up and play hide and seek deep in the dark alleys of Kibera with the less privilaged. Best of all, he was a lover of the bottle, and occasionally made peace with his ancestors as he ensured they had a taste of the fine whiskey in hand. I remember one time he burst into my room almost balancing on his toes and almost simultaneously, he sent out a trajectory of smoke signals just as a mere sign of in-depth relationship with Jah.

Well, I’d be lying if I said he was perfect, he sure had a downside, lots of them in fact. However, his flaws are beyond us for now and it’s upon the Almighty to meditate if he truly delivered on his journey as Wayne Makwata.

Feminism! A closet that needs cleaning.

The sun seems to be rocking every inch of my capillaries. My mind has indeed been melted and socked by it. One rock however still stands firm in it.Feminism.
Robin hood once said that, I feel that ‘man-hating’ is an honorable and viable political act, that the oppressed have a right to class-hatred against the class that is oppressing them. I have to agree that this statement holds some truth, however one thing forgotten in the statement was that  often the  oppressed find in the oppressors their model of 'manhood.' Could this be what is leading to radical feminism?
The discussion on feminism and whether really the toxic feminists stand for the core values of feminism is one that has stood the test of time and if this discussion is not brought to an end, the whole society might end up getting poisoned.
I see a society where men resent women and women in return want nothing to do with men. A society where test tube babies are the order of the day and babymaking is a booming business in the city centre. This thin line that no one is really taking a bold step to challenge is slowly getting faint and its manifestations are slowly piling up in social media platforms.
From inception, the core values of feminism had been and still are to uplift the girlchild from a disadvantaged position in the society. The girlchild was deprived of opportunities to get education and ideally was just sent into marriage when one seemed to be ripe enough. The society saw everything wrong in these acts and able men as well as women took their time to champion for this gender. A gender tossed out in the open and left to be used and even overused by every Tom, John, Dick and Harry. I have to say the society was whack back then and the fight for equality for both sexes was in order.
The roof that was set up so firmly has over time rusted. It might be a case of many cooks spoiling the broth or rather just the roof providing suitable conditions for its leaking, either way the roof is still leaking.
Self proclaimed modern day feminists have gone from championing for equality of sexes to demeaning the other gender. Man hating is their new hidden agenda and they are slowly but surely taking the rest of the flock with them. They want to take the society back ti where it was only this time the female gender in dominanation. In such a civilised world I'd say this is a henious act with evil intentions written all ovee it which will come back to haunt its perpetrators as us the castigators will take our seats, sip our tea and watch them wallow in their poison.
I stand corrected, but maybe its time we got back to upholding feminism and its core values.
All in all, Shoot your shot and let it hit the nail on the head, however don't despise the nail when it defends itself.

LITTLE lost SoUL in WRONGai

If at all you cherish your life as much as I do then you'd probably not want to make your way to Wrongai especially on a Friday night. The alarm that comes with the name is all that is wrong about the place. Maybe I am just a young paranoid male student in his early twenties who is afraid to lose it all cause of the love of a party night down the diaspora.
Its probably around 10 on a hot Saturday morning when i get up at a friend's place. I can feel the surge of pain through my body and especially around my puny test. The sun rays are already striking hard on my face and I can't seem to recollect how or even why I'm there. Staggering out of bed, I bump on a huge mirror on the warddobe door and believe you me the mask of a face that I possess tells it all. The night must have been long!
Having just resumed the semester, my two long time highschool friends decided to attend a denim party that was being held in a club down at the diaspora. Just from the name and the little knowledge I had about the place, I for sure knew that this would be the night of nights with lots of campus girls and loud music crisscrossing my senses intermittently.
As tradition dictated, we had to get ourselves in the mood first before we boarded a matatu down there and which better way to do this but have ourselves drowning deep in whiskey. What we didn't know was that our choice of drink would hunt us down. Down to the ground and maybe, just maybe 6 feet under it.
In the company of another highshool friend( maybe one day I'll give you a story on him), the four of us carried our drunk selves to board a matatu. The matatus headed down that way are well known for their booming music and the one we boarded didn't disappoint. If you've never boarded a matatu drunk then get it from me that its the most satisfying of feelings.
The next thing I knew, we were being ruffled up by policemen probably because we were urinating just by the roadside. Yeah, three grown men unable to get hold of their bladders in a particularly erie night down in Wrongai. Being at least a little sobered up by the arrest I was able to put a price tag on the officer who had me and he let me loose, little did I know that I was freeing myself up for the pack, the pack of wolves. For my friends, the next I heard of them was that they were seen singing joyously to songs of praise and worship as they took an oath of honour before a man of God to never taste the forbidden drink.
Well, as for myself, i went to the club ready for the night of my life. Jumping up and about the dancefloor and pouncing on any lady who was willing to give me a dance, I was surely enjoying myself. What i didn't know was that the time bomb was ticking and sooner rather than later, an explosion was about to wreck me up. 
I was approached by about two boys about a year or two younger than me who wanted to steal a phone that i didn't have.Seconds later, the narrative had changed and a phone that had been lost during the night was being pinned on me. I don't how or even why but I was now the phone thief.
It was now too late to save myself, blows were already flying from left to right on my face. Gideon boots and timberlands were all I could feel stumping on my chest and kicking the blood out of my nose and mouth. To wail or just to take it in as a man is what I didn't know, but one thing was for sure, it had been a dreadful night in WRONGAI!