Attacked !!

          ‘Children, family . Is his quitting genuine?  What if he was unhappy with me although? But then do I care?  The hell I don’t! ‘ Back to  square one, and just like a friend of mine who lives amidst lines and stanzas, Flor is questioning  Certainty, Perception as well. Truth be told though, there will always be something spurious about men. Majority of them have a terrible taste for authenticity ,so forgive this new Thomas in skirts and heels.. She isn’t to be blamed for doubting and questioning! The thing is,  my dislike for counterfeits is uncounterfeited.

       Choices laid on my table. I choose him. my father. He is the only one who matters, the only one I’d climb hills for. I have to make him proud, but it will be at the expense of something, maybe someone.. Yes it will  cost me him, some lover I met during pascua de resureccįon. 2017th easter wasn’t just important to the Christian fraternity. It was to me too, a daughter from the countryside, hoping for love the Mexican way… Perfect, infallible. Little did I know, that I’d soon be counting  costs and fixing prices. ”Father Cyril, did I just hear you speak??? ”

     It’s a  dull day for me, garlanded with confusion in plenty. I’m sad but for reasons. The day before, my home county Nyeri had just lost its governor in a grisy road accident around Kenol .That same day my prince charming from  Easterstide ,’Juan’ had called to end it all ,citing conflicting priorities. Since time imemorial, I’ve grown up around meticulous priorities. So fixed they  can’t be changed or misguided . For me, education comes first before everything  and everyone, including men but this time round, my heart is with_setting cooperation, aching for consolation. On the other hand ,life’s speaking  ”we don’t listen to hearts all the time, be kind to logic! ”

       I’ve been walking for minutes now, went past my favorite boutique ,even stopped by the butcher’s to buy some meat. Preparing a complicated meal like Pilau would do me some good since it would buy me time ,most importantly act as my escape from these constant torrents of memory..a meeting in my head, of me, my inner self, and an absent Juan! 

         Tired, hurt, confused. I was just but  a walking body, completely deprived off concentration,hurrying to get to my house before dusk. ” I’ll be back Juan, I promise ” I say to myself absentmindedly.. “I’ll crush you, I’ll shake your walls so hard,  like you just shook mine! ” I was playing  karma, and for a moment it felt like I was really shaking him. Only to wake up from dreamland and spot a man right in front of me. His face covered ,his hands on my handbag ..Knowing very well how unkind the streets are, it dawned on me, almost immediately, that I was being robbed. I screamed . Struggling to keep my bag with me. Hoping someone would come to my aid but quite the contrary, no one seemed to  bother!  Everyone around was just a typical spectator..and I; one more victim.  Not necessarily the first, or second, or thirtieth.. Who cared?  

       Everything was happening fast, my resolute retribution didn’t last long..There were more and more men within seconds. Sooner than later, my strength would  fail me, and it would vanish alongside my handbag, in there an item of value, my new infinix hot 4 which had costed me a huge fraction of  my savings. ‘Heeeelllppp! My phone! ” I shouted one last time.One of the  men wrestled me to the ground making it easy for  the other one to make away with  my handbag. 

       Tensed, I stood up, determined to run after the thug ,only for someone from behind me to hit me on my left leg, and I hit the ground one more time, so hard I lost consciousness . I woke up  to lots of people around me. This time sympathising . “Did you  see their faces ? Can you recognise any of them? What was in your handbag??  Is there a tracker on your phone?  ” Too  many questions  at the same time was all I could hear.. Wamekuumiza? (did they hurt you?)  Asked one lady. I answered a few questions, and since this was the same crowd that let it all happen under their watch, I felt too betrayed to entertain them for long, so I walked on. 

       On the way I met Jane, a friend of mine who gave me nothing short of an  ‘I told you so’ kind of  face. ”You shouldn’t have spoken for these people on your blog Flor. In fact the police should shoot them all dead!  See now you ended up their victim! ”

       Lovers of words speak  for truth Amiga, even if it hurts. 



Article by Wachira Florence. 


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