Flawed Hearts

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I promised never to fall for someone already taken, but this flawed heart never learns when to fall and when not to. It knows no boundaries. It knows no line. So this lady I will talk about is a unique one, the kind you never get tired hanging out with. The kind that has gone through a lot in her life but still affords an authentic smile; the kind that reaches her deep eyes. The kind that will not let nothing bring her down. The kind that has an ego you envy and feel like watching her drown and actually enjoy the moment.

She is mystical; and perfect in her perfection. The kind that will leave you wondering why you are dating your current, and why you think beauty is only for the light skinned girls. Her complexion is that which you would kill to pass over to your daughter. I would write a novel to describe how wonderful she is that she already knows that she is, and so you cannot charm her with them. She is the kind that will not be impressed by a piece of writing if I want to impress her.

She is the kind that leaves me every night wondering how it would be like to have her just for a day, to act like she is mine and I was hers. For her to just see me as more than whatever I am, honestly I don’t know what I am, not that I am fighting for any position, I am okay with me. For her to just assume she is not his and just charm me acting like she is mine for just one day. For once to hold, feel her breath on my skin, comfort her when she need comfort, and hold her tight when she feels low. I know that all this can only happen in my dreams; happens every day in my dreams. I am okay with it though, I am not complaining. Why would I even complain? I am in no position to do that. I am grateful for what I have……

To be continued


We can only hope

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It has been quite long since I last wrote something. I do not only mean blogs, but rather anything on this laptop. I guess it would then be fair to say that we had missed each other. So I have been thinking for a long time what to write, you see the truth is that I had promised myself to post a new blog each week, and if you have been following me you can then realize that I have not written a single thing for the past one month or so. It is not my fault though, I have been busy studying for an exam, actually not studying, I do not know what I can call it, for if I had studied, and I would have had something to write on the papers. Well, I am done with the exams, as you can guess or why do you think I am writing again? After the papers I decided to go home and for a while, hoping that I would be able to revive my spirit and have my literary magic flowing.

Well, today I had gone to Nairobi for no apparent reasons and none of the plans I had today worked. Well, I can safely conclude that it was not one of my luckiest days. Starting with the fact that I boarded a matatu which made a point of stopping at each stage then ‘emptied’ us out to another matatu which was pretty empty and so we had to wait for passengers to board the matatu. Then you could count the fact that the ATM ‘rejected my card’ three times with no genuine reason. Well, I am not complaining. I am finally home safely.

So on my way back home, I boarded a Kenya mpya bus to Thika. For those who are familiar with this place, we know that this is the best mode of transport one can use, especially during this period of economic crisis. I chose a seat near a window on the side which has two seats. If it were possible for the bus to have a place with one seat I would have chosen it. I probably know what you are thinking, but trust me I am not proud and neither am I shy. It is only that I love my privacy, I can’t call it privacy, but I just like being alone at times. I hate mingling with people; I hate talking to new people, I hate making new friends, I guess that I have more than enough, considering they are less than 10, but I am okay with it, I rarely keep up with those 10. That does not make me a bad person anyway, right?

So another guy takes the seat next to me and I do not even look at him. I can’t even tell whether he was dark or light skin. My seat is the second last, and some other gentlemen occupy the back bench, I think they knew each other from their conversations. I put on my earphones because I do not want to listen to their chit chat; I have a lot going on in my mind. However they start talking about politics, well I have a passion for politics. I want to become a politician and probably be the president of this nation one day; my dreams are still valid though. From their ascent you would guess their political affiliation. But don’t call me tribal. Point no finger.  I am not tribal though.

They started talking about “unga,” I think this has been a heated debate since we bought it at Ksh 200, we can’t blame them though, and again from their ascent, you would tell they love their meal. They, however, touched my soul by blaming the president for the current economic state. They started criticizing each project the government have undertaken, more so the SGR. I decided to listen to their argument and was left wondering what our problem is as Kenyans. The politicians have claimed our minds and turned us against each other. From their debate, it was clear that they had a problem with the Kikuyus.

It is at that moment when I wondered where the economy is taking us, who is to be blamed, the common mwananchi for not planting forcing us to eat from our pockets, the industries which are there for massive profits, the county governments for stealing all the money allocated and yet they are not ashamed of themselves, they still ask for more share so that they can spend it on their wives and businesses. Or should we blame the national government for funding huge projects while the typical “mwananchi” is dying? However, the worst scenario is when you hear the news, politicians in the positions such as governors and MPs asking for the government to help. When a poor person cries, “serikali saidia” even the politicians do the same, and I am left wondering who is the government then if they are not the government. I surely do not know who will rescue this country for I doubt that we will choose better leaders than the once we had. I think we as Kenyans simply do not learn, hoping that one day we will not choose leaders for their money, based on tribal basis and not out of fame, more so the wrong kind of reputation such as corruption and stuff, but based on personality. I pray and hope that God will intervene one day.

About last night


She is seated on the other side of my table sipping at strawberry yogurt. She is wearing a giant, black, woolen hat that covers her face to just above the eyes. I swear I do not get why she is shy, ‘because she is. I have tried to but I am yet to make any progress. So today, I thought it would be different, I thought she would stare directly to my eyes for once as I whispered the words. I thought her eyes would pierce at mine, as if looking into my soul as I broke the news; as if urging me to say it already. The tension was building up, and I had to say something. I know what you are thinking, but you are all wrong. I just want to tell her that I got the job that she literally forced me to apply. I do not know how she will react to that. You see, the reason I did not want to apply for the job is because it is Nakuru and we live in Nairobi. By taking the job I would have to move in to Nakuru and leave her in Nairobi.

I simply could not tell her so. She claims that it is my only chance to finally get employed. She is not the kind that would pressure me to get a real job, but the one she insisted on is a big deal. It’s one I could fall back on when whatever I do fails me. I had just graduated and I have applied for all the jobs that I came across but the current situation in our humble country demands connections, and the big question in these cases is ‘who sent you?’ I blame my grandfather for having three wives and more than thirty children, (if I am not wrong). He could not offer a proper education to his children. Some had to be the opportunity costs; with no meaningful jobs and definitely no connections. Can you imagine if all of them were working in different fields!? It would mean that I could choose from 30 different career paths when I joined campus.

I had gone for the interview last week and managed to impress the vetting team. They gave me the job. It was probably because am the only one who turned up for the interview. So I have been wondering how I should break the news. I am supposed to start working next week. I have already made all the arrangements like the wise man I am. The only bit left is telling her, I do not know how she will react; will she be happy for me or will she feel deserted. You see, I have known her for quite some time. We have become the best of friends. I can tell her anything and so can she. She kills my ‘vibe’ though but I am to blame for I taught her these things.

I look at her and I am still wondering what’s going through her mind; she seems so lost in her thoughts. I even doubt she is enjoying her super. Oh! Forgive me; I forgot to mention this was our supper, strawberry yoghurt and red velvet cake. Some of you are probably wondering how broke these guys are, eating that for supper. Yes, with the current economic strains I cannot argue about it. But we are here not because we are broke but rather because we love this place. It has been our haven for a long time. It is a small hub where they sell cakes and our spot is almost always unoccupied every time we go there. This is the only spot where you can get a clear view of the streets.  We get to see those old couples driving their old Peugeot 504 models. They have probably known each other for years, gone through hell together but are still pushing on; maybe they are not happy, they are just staying together because they have nowhere else to be. And then the young couples who probably met last month; they have so much expectations and hope on each other. They are probably still thinking about how good their morning sex was and how they cannot wait to get home and ravish each other.

Well, we cannot blame them for that, one couple interest me, I cannot quite recognize the guy but I have seen that girl somewhere. I blame my ‘warthog mind ‘for being so forgetful. It strikes me that I actually do know her. She was once mine, or so I thought. She is with this guy that looks so small; or maybe it’s the effects of being on the fourth floor. They seem happy together. I do not think I made her that happy when we were together. Oh! I remember we only met once before she accepted my proposal, never met when we were dating and met thrice after the break up, and I swear it was great. I stare at them the entire time they are together. She is blushing. She never did that with me. I let my curiosity get the better of me and decide to call her and congratulate her on account of her clearly happy life. Unfortunately, I have no airtime so I decide to call her when I get home.

I do not know for how long mine has been talking to me; the ‘happy couple’ took away my attention.

“Ooow am so sorry, I have a lot of things going through my mind,” I tell her.

“And what things could those be?” she asks.

For a second, I am tempted to tell her but then she seems like she is in a good mood; I do not want to spoil that. It hits me that tomorrow is her birthday and it would be a bad thing to end her year with such bad news. So I am forced to lie.

“You know tomorrow is your birthday, I do not know what to get you.”

She gives me that look she gives me when I say something that she thinks does not make sense. She tells me not to stress me.

“The only thing I want from you is your company. Just be with me when I want you to. Don’t leave.” She responds.

So we can agree on one thing, I may be psychic.  I am forced to lie to her again by telling her that she will always have me. We finish our supper and decide to go clubbing as we await her birthday. I hope this year brings her happiness, joy, esteem, and finally ‘someone’. She will definitely know what I mean by that if she reads this one day. HBD




They say life isn’t fair. Well, that is relative, and depends on your definition of fair. One thing that I strongly oppose though is the saying that the rich too cry. Crying is not a big deal. For instance, when I was young, I used to cry a lot. I cried over anything and everything. Personally, I would rather cry in a black tinted range rover sport than laugh on an old motorcycle. Can you imagine laughing on a motorcycle only for an insect to invite itself into your eyes for whatever? Eventually, it might lead to an accident where one of two things will happen. If lucky, you will survive, save for those not so few minor injuries. The second option would be certain death. If the former happens, then you are safe. If the latter does, all we would be left to do is decorate your eulogy and joke that you died from laughter, weird, right? I know.

Compare that with crying in a range rover, you got the privilege of screaming, if you are rich enough to have it sound proofed.  What’s even better, the fact that no one will see you cry unless you count your chauffeur, who you may decide to fire after the ride anyway. You could also decide to listen to your favorite jam to help cheer you up.  We all want to be rich, right? That is why we work ourselves to death each day. Trust me, I may not know how it feels to be rich, but I can imagine it. For instance, when I manage to fraud my dad some cash, let’s say like three geez, I feel like a hero. I may even decide to throw a party to celebrate and end up using more that I had in the first place.

I digress. For those who do not know, I live in Nyeri. It is a fantastic place with minimal traffic that you are only caught in when a lorry driving at a speed of 10km/h is right ahead of you. My prestigious studio apartment is at Ngangarithi, I know the name is quite enticing, but please, let it not charm you. For those who have not yet been to this place, it is a quiet place despite the fact that the number of motorcycles is larger than that of clients, which leaves me wondering where they manage to get their customers from. Luckily a quarter of the road is tarmacked, and well, you can guess the rest. And thanks to our county government for their commendable job in ensuring that we will develop some crude survival techniques.

On rainy occasions, the roads are unbearable, impassable even. And it is on such days that you end up meeting with your crush. You try explaining to them that you are not a farmer, thanks to the black gumboots that are constantly on your feet, while trying to ask them out at the same time. When it is sunny, the roads are, again, unbearable owing to the amount of dust you will deal with. And thanks to those who drive themselves for reminding us that we should probably relocate. Some drops of water and sunshine over time, I think He too gets confused at times from our prayers. Another funny part of living in this humble place is when you first show your friends where you live. The first thing that comes out of their mouths,

“How did you even find this place!!!!???”

I do not complain though; the rooms are affordable, and the environment is peaceful, or how else do you suppose I manage to write?

Another good thing about the place is its neighboring suburbs, a place called ring road. For those who have not yet been to this location, you should try it out, especially if you are photogenic. I made a promise to myself to always visit this estate once in a week. Every time I visit the place I get more confused about the statement, the rich cry. The place is spectacular, and the only noise you hear throughout the entire stroll are the dogs barking at the sound of a potential intruder. These are not your typical dogs, like the ones from my place, that are too busy fending for themselves to even realize that you are passing by. There are no motorbikes here; at least not the ones I am accustomed to seeing at my humble neighborhood.

The walks usually end gradually. I would be returning home, and there would be a clear demarcation separating the haves and those that will one day ‘have’. This demarcation is emphasized by the return of the hooting motorcycles and the reintroduction of rough roads leading to an amazing place that is the home of the diversity of this town; cues that remind me what it is that I am fighting for. Those that urge me to wake extra early and ignore the hill beneath my feet every morning as I struggle to better mine life.


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“Hi, it seems like we will be stuck here for quite some time. So, we can either choose to bore ourselves to death by listening to our boring songs from our outdated playlist on our headphones. We may opt to sleep till the end of the journey. You could also indulge in that old novel sitting on your lap. Or we could indulge in a conversation that may prove interesting, or at least feign interest as we pack regret at the back of our minds, cursing the moment we decided to play along to each other’s muse. I am Maurice by the way, you know, if anyone asks.

“Three, two, one….. Still no one is asking”.

And that’s how I met her father.

Well, as I am seated on this side of the confession box, I cannot stop wondering why you decided to become a father. Was it a calling, was it for money or was it inspired by the sting of a rejection from the other gender? I am guessing that being a father, the thought of being gay could not have crossed your mind, right? Well, father, we rode the same ship and docked at different ports. We had a lot in common. Well if you were not a father you would know that after having a good conversation with a lady, you ask for her number and plan a second date. You wouldn’t know that, would you? You see father, on this other side of the world, there are many things we think about, one enigma being who to marry. What would she be like? Will she be beautiful? Loving? Caring? Will she respect and adore me? Will she stick by me when no one else does, or will she flee when poverty knocks on my front door? Well, I have to confess, the idea of marriage gives me goose bumps. I do not intend to get married to someone then end up divorcing after spending a fortune on each other. Forgive me, father, I forgot to mention that I am Kikuyu and you would know that we love money. Who doesn’t though?

When I was younger, I wished to be just like you; I envied how you had memorized all the prayers. I still recite them after you during service. As I grew older, I realized I couldn’t marry if I chose your path, and that scared the hell out of me. Still, I could not imagine a life without a family; no offense though.  Being so young, I knew nothing about casual sex, and so that too was off the table. Well as I was saying, we had a connection with her, or so I thought. I hoped she would be ‘the one’, until one day when she sent me a photo of her boyfriend bragging about how happy he made her and how much they were in love. I knew I had been friend zoned, or worse, bro-zoned when I once helped restore their relationship when they were in squabbles. You see, that’s the reason I am telling you that I am the one who should be seated on the other side. She told me and I quote, “you are the best’s friend I have ever had, I do not know how I would survive without you and can’t imagine life without you as a friend.”

Well, father, that statement tamed my fears. At least I was not her ‘brother’. I hope you understand what it means to be a brother to a girl. You were once a brother before you became a priest, so I guess you are better informed than I am. After a while, they broke up; claimed that they were not a good match. Well, I think I am genius ‘cause I had that figured out, or so I thought. I comforted her; reminded her of how beautiful she was, and she had the guts to mention the friend thing again. This was my moment; my prayers answered. I organized dates, surprises; I consistently texted, called her, I did all I could to ensure that she would be smitten by me. Let me tell you something; there is nothing as hard as trying to impress a girl who thinks of you as a friend. Well, you can’t judge me, I have been single for way too long, and it sucks.

So, today she sent me a picture of a guy; I sarcastically commented that I am guilty of not knowing all her family members. And guess what she said, “Silly! that’s not my brother, and  you know every member of my family, he is the guy I have been telling you about, Luke remember?”  Father, please tell me what you think the problem is. I have known her for a year now. Can you imagine Father, I met her before that guy, but she has never developed feelings for me. Where did I go wrong? I did not want to sound pretentious, so I told her to follow her heart’s desire and wished her luck. I decided to follow my heart’s desire too, I, therefore, came bearing ‘this letter’; I want to join the priesthood. I hope that my reasons for being here are valid. I cannot live without her, but I have come to realize that she will always consider me a friend. So I want to convince myself that I cannot be with her because I will be a priest. Yes, I know I am smart you do not have to rub it in my face. I even brought my luggage, so where do I start father?

I Think I Have Fallen

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I liked to think that my life was perfect; thought I had all the bliss the world had to offer. On the outside, my life was picture-perfect, but all soft and jelly on the inside. I thought I had it all figured out. I had a very categorical perception of fun. Fun to me was going out to clubs; drinking me out till I passed out and my friends would drag my ass home. I thought fun was smoking out weed till I felt high. I believed the high was worth the headaches and the whole next all day sleep I had to catch. I thought fun was chasing hot girls. (That is fun though). The paradox of this is that I never did any of these. I didn’t believe in drinking for I believed it would fuck my life up. Smoking pot was the least of my options; knowing just how vulnerable it would leave me; the way it left one open to anything and willing to do all that could never be done when they dropped the high facade. And in girls, I was yet to figure whether it was shyness or cowardice that prevented me from hitting on them. All that was left was sitting on my couch binge watching science fiction series all weekend and listen to annoying cliché music on the radio.

Everything in the world I amounted to monetary value. I could not loosen up because I always cared about money. I was not that broke, yet I barely noticed the difference between when I had money and when I did not. I simply could not take myself out on a date and spoil myself. The reason behind this, I still haven’t figured out. The mountain of it all was when I thought of taking a girl out. I viewed it as a total waste of time. Maybe it is because I was afraid I would not have anything to talk about during the entire date. Or is it that I did not see what I would gain from it, (pathetic) Or the fact that I did not see any girl who was worth it? All I thought of was how I was going to make myself a billionaire, how I would marry the hottest and the best wife and have an amazing family.

But my life took a drastic turn when I met this amazing girl. She has the most incredible perception of life. Her beauty is epic and her character enviable. But the worst part is that she doesn’t hear any of it; either because she too has low self-esteem or afraid of her own light and the truth that is her. I liked her from the first day I saw her. She talked a lot and was very friendly. I didn’t know her well but I knew enough to know that I liked her. But, I being me never had the guts to say hello to her. I think she is God-send for she struck the first conversation, and for a minute, threatened my ego; my manhood.

I came to know her though it took me quite some time to do so. I realized that my life was way better than hers, encouraging me to never give up in life. I came to learn that she liked the same old songs I had listened to for decades. She began to show me a different kind of life, a different perspective of fun, a different world and a different everything. Spending a minute with her was more than I asked for, for I would always learn something new. The best part was taking a walk in the night with her under the moonlight. I came to see the world’s beauty which I was yet to appreciate. I came to view life in a quite different light.

I envied her. It turned from liking to lust. From lust to envy and from envy to something I cannot describe but the best feeling in the world. I don’t know how to put it but the feeling where you want to spend the entire night with someone, the feeling that you cannot get enough of them. I floated in that feeling where you can’t stay a minute without thinking of her; the feeling that you don’t want to go to sleep without kissing her goodnight. And yet she felt like a thousand miles away even though a wall was all that separated us. She has made me see life with a different eye and come to love my life. And all I want to do is make her part of my life, where I get to kiss her, hug her, cuddle her and talk all night.