Curled up in bed, inch thick mattress, my sides harassed and the cold biting my toes and fingers it’s a long night. Sleep doesn’t come too easily tonight am missing India Arie because Yang has the laptop. It’s her testimony, volume 2 love and politics. It rains incessantly as a nagging Michelle Obama would. I toss and turn waiting for the light and the little 9 a.m. sunshine.
I turn to Bob Marley’s Misty Morning lyrics. Misty morning can’t see no sun/ I know you are out there somewhere/ having fun. I want you to light up my tomorrow. I can remember no more but these lines are more than adequate. Niambie unanipenda/ ningetaka kusikia/but/ usiniambie unanipenda coz ningetaka kusikia! Just follow me we’ll get there.
Call it matters of the heart when it’s more of matters of the hurt to me, but he heals me and don’t get any bright ideas. It says more of you than it does me. Think of long goodbyes. Talk of cold kisses.
My conscience shouted herself hoarse after my mind outdid himself scrutinising ‘signals’. She took the form of a student that would have very well bought me a rose for my ‘she-love-me-love-me-not’ palpitations. Starting over is hardest when you audit the sum total of your investment gone with the wind. C’est la vie and don’t you say that to me! Neither try what does not kill you makes you stronger.
I don’t consider myself as having the classic fearsome face that sends kids to the extremities of good behaviour at supper time. Apparently my students ‘ex’ saw me in different light; gangster. Am a hustler baby/ I just want you to know/ its not where i’ve been…/ but where am about to go ! and the girl would enjoy perks. I love the back streets; is what could be said about me but am walking towards Wall Street. I keep to the shadows as the forbidden fruit. Stolen bread tastes sweeter in the dark. Amusing; this girl is ‘gangsta lovin’ me! She is no ride or die chick! It’s a generic beauty and the beast story. Sunshine comes and goes at the house on the hill, teasing me into Eastland’s Nairobi. Take me home I need something real to hang on to.
The student had already pushed me to a faint heart never won a fair lady; am coming to break you off, anybody? Days later she says she’ll call to tell me something that might not be easy on the soap opera script I was a protagonist in. It is the bittersweet truth I can not ignore. What’s more, my tongue won’t form and order the words necessary to plead for my freedom; Am in chains/ you are in chains too/ …Ms Jailer girl! It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? Mtoto si nguo
As I wait for sunlight I’ll keep myself warm. Soon enough, at ‘Gods appointed time’ the sun will shine. This I say with a heavy heart and wry smile. One day is as a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day to the Almighty- now you understand my resignation. Plus, there is a time for everything. All I have to do is wait