The war within me

Dear diary,

For a while now I keep waking up tired than the way I went to sleep. There are two parts in me that are fighting. Each one determined to take control of my mind and eventually my body. One is trying to convince my mind to take the road that I swore never take again. And each time it manages to take my mind under control, I feel like am drowning with fear of unknown. It makes me crave for someone in a way I have never done before. Like I would literally be happy if he was here with me, sitting next to me even though I know he wouldn’t talk to me. It’s as if his presence is tied to the side of me that is responsible for making me smile.

Have you ever wished for a phone call, a text or anything from someone and all you could think of is when they will wake up from their sleep and just do anything? It doesn’t really matter if it’s good of bad but just anything because for a while you cannot feel anything and out of desperation you need a sign to know that you are still alive. That you still exist and in the land of the living not yet condemned to the dark future.

I never pretend to know what love is, but on moments like these I find myself able to define what the word love once mean to me, on days like these I know for sure love is knowing all about someone and still wanting to be with them more than any other person in this world, love is trusting him with the deepest, darkest secrets that you are ashamed off. Love is feeling comfortable and safe in your own body, love is feeling strong when you are with him but at the same time so week on your knees every time his skin is against yours.

But there is a second part, which would not stop screaming, yelling how much closure is a joke and every time it takes me in front of a mirror, make me stare at my own image wondering when I became so weak unable to fight for myself, when did I become one of those people who placed their happiness in the hands of un-trusted and ungrateful creatures.  Every time I look at myself get choked by anger, thinking how the same people who made me feel everything at one point made me feel like I was nothing at another point.

Step by step I begin to examine what I thought they were good times; I begin to question what was so good about them and why I liked them. Before I know it, I find myself confronted with the cold truth that, even on those moments that I held so precious , part of me would still be working on eggshells,  running my nerves, anxious about the future and when would be the next act of  disappearance, worried that he would forget like everyone else. Wondering why something did not feel right, when is the next switch and he wouldn’t recognize me anymore, how my heart was pulled down by constant changing of plans, trying so hard to catch up with the constant change of rules.

And it reminds me of how I lost so much and gained so little, how I forgave the same mistake over and over again just because I was afraid to lose someone who never saw my worth. How I am never going to be enough, not even for myself. And it whispers in my ears… “Darling he doesn’t care”, he forgot about you the moment he turned his back on you, he doesn’t think about you at night or see your face in a crowded room, he forgot how you smile even though he told you it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. He does not remember anything.

And I feel so cold inside, like an empty vessel. It’s a good thing that from time to time the other side runs to my rescue.  Teaching me to love the fool in me, the part of me that feels too much and love too much, the part of me that talks too much and would sacrifice too much for people that don’t remember me once their needs are fulfilled. The part that take too much chances, win sometimes and looses often. The parts that get hurts and broken and cries it self to heal because, it is that part of me that protect me from myself. The part of me that if dead, it would give power to the part that would rob me of my humanity, dignity and mercy.

“Awake from your slumber; arise from your sleep….” An old hymn would run through my mind before the second part would start counting all my mistakes. Your first mistake is always to love without conditions; giving people power to hurt you, by crushing your soul with their bare hands, words and even worse, their silence. And then your second mistake is always letting them know how much you need them, how you have been waiting for something like this for a long time, how your days will be empty and your nights cold if they are not by your side.

Your third mistake is as usual, to fall too fast for the idea of who they are. And this makes you miss the soft hints of deception in their words and actions, the points of concern you should have noticed. And then you love them more than they love you.  Kissing each little bruise and bone being convinced each scar had a story behind it even when it didn’t. They look at you with bored eyes and you convince yourself that they are tired and perhaps need few hours of rest, they hold you with careless, clumsy and dirty arms that have never hold anything precious and you are convinced they will learn to do it better.

Darling wake up and smell the coffee, you cannot wish on stars that aren’t bright. They are dark and that how they will always be, the best they can do is pull you in their darkness. This has to end, you have to put a stop to all this, don't be like the rest of them, you are better than this.

If I didn’t know any better I would say am possessed. But then again.. Can the light and the dark live in one room? Dear diary, Once upon the time I was falling in love, now am falling it to a deep sea of confusion and I feel trapped between true love and being alone forever and I have no idea which road to take.

A letter to my future Husband

Dear future husband

I don’t know if we have met or not but I feel it’s about time I write this letter. I have no idea what I want to tell you in this letter so am just going to go with the flow and write anything and everything about you but most importantly me and all the things that you should know before you ask me to marry you.

First of all, I want you to know if I say yes to you it is because I truly love you. I won’t say yes just because of peer pressure to be married and have a family of my own. No, I would never settle for less. I have had several proposals which did not turn into marriage because for one reason or another I thought I had not found you; and until I did I was not going to give up on you.

So here is the thing, I don’t know your Idea of a wife but my husband will be more of a partner than a husband.  He will be my best friend, a friend that I can sleep with, make love to, hustle with, travel with, shop with, club with, clean the house with, someone that I can totally rely on. I hope you will be my partner in crime, a life partner, someone I can talk anything to without regrets or fear of consequences  without being bound by obligations, human limitation or worrying what your reaction will be. Someone I can trust with my heart, my money and my life. Someone I can build with and laugh with about all the silly things.. Yes silly things even though I also have deepest affection for intellectual conversations, the ability to just sit and talk for hours about politics, religion, love, life and everything in between. Someone I am not afraid to lose because I know you will always be by my side no matter how difficult the situation seems to be

Darling, after all that I have been through in search for you, after all the deception and the lies, I have grown to appreciate more men who are honest. A man who will tell me exactly how it is no matter how difficult and painful it is. I hope you are a man who would own up to your mistakes and want to improve to become the better version of yourself. Don’t worry about me, the only thing that I will always love whole heartedly even if its painful is the truth. I also understand that we are all human and at one time or another you will make mistakes, and what define us is how well we rise after we have fallen. I will appreciate you more if I hear about these mistakes from you not from your friends, family or neighbors. I want to be the first to know, I want to be your confidant and someone you can easily talk to.

Dear future husband, my father is no hero in ordinary life, but he is famous for how he defend his woman no matter what.  If anyone ever try to hurt my mom he will immediately turn into a superman no matter who that person is. It does not matter if it is his sister or his mother. My mom is the queen of his heart and his house and he does not tolerate anyone who will disrespect her. I hope you are that kind of a man. I man who will fight for me and stand by my side no matter what. A man who would pick me over football, his friends and family and everything in between.

You don’t have to be a big man or a bouncer; you don’t have to be cool or athletic. You don’t even have to play guitar or fix cars or be a millionaire to be that man. But you have to be kind, because I know for sure that a good marriage is created by the little kind acts we share with each other. I will never be too old to be spoilt with random gifts, our romantic outings or to hear those three magic words (I love you/ I miss you). Let me wake up next to you with that morning kiss, have coffee in the morning and wonder through the city with my hand in yours. One thing I have learned is we will never be too old to hold hands in public or kissing in front of our children, but most importantly we should never go to bed angry at each other. It’s  in having the capacity to forgive and forget that will chain our souls forever, it’s in giving each other the safe environment  to grow that will teach our children the importance of finding the right partner.

I have a weakness that I think it’s about time I come clean, I am attracted to laughter. I hope you are the kind of person who smile often and think positively and enjoy the little things life has to offer. I admire someone who can put their cynical and pessimistic thoughts aside no matter how bad the situation is and bear through with a sense of humor; because staying close to such people makes me happier even in my worst moments. It’s also important to our children because I want them to grow in a happy family with a positive attitude even when nothing seems to be working.

You should also know I am a work in progress, at times I have meltdowns and I wet my pillows with tears when am in pain. Many times I find it difficult to let people in because there are times when I have opened my self to people and all they did was to walk all over me. Please know it is not you that I am afraid of, it is getting hurt, it is the pain and the heart breaks that gives me the chills then I think about the possibility of being broken again. Pain has been a big part of this journey and at times am afraid pain is all I will ever know. But you don't have to worry; my damaged heart and broken soul that were wounded along this journey are still in repair, I don’t know how long it will take before they are whole again but I assure you baby, the work that my father in heaven is doing is an excellent work and it is worth the wait.

In the end I hope we work together in advancing the kingdom of God, I pray that not only should we see the potential in each other and all the areas where our strength lies but also see the areas where we struggle and encourage each other to be and do better. I believe in knowing who we are without limiting our selves to expectations of who we are. Trying new things and experimenting should be the only thing that is constant in our lives. 

With endless love,

Future wife.

A letter to the step daughter I never met

Dear Beyonce,

Before we kissed good bye, your father asked me if i could do one last thing for him. He asked me to write you a letter to tell you how to be a good woman, a woman like myself. Well, I am honored that out of all people he asked me to write you this letter, but honestly I don’t know what to tell you. Probably because I have never been a mother (but I hope to be some day), and it is really difficult to tell anyone how to be a good version of yourself while you clearly know at one time or another the worst version of your self did exist too; so instead am going to tell you all the things I wish someone told me before, all the things mothers should share with their daughters.

First of all, I want you to know you’re not a mistake, your father told me you have never gotten over the fact that your mother walked out on you when you were just a baby. I don’t know why she did what she did but I do know there is nothing more precious to your father than you. He would give up absolutely anything to see you happy. I have seen great dads, (my own father being one of them) but I have never seen before a single dad who would choose to raise a nine month baby on his own. Most men would just choose the easier way, and run. So darling enough with beating up yourself about what your mama did, enough with hating her, I know you might think that in hating her you are hurting her, but the truth is you are not, hate is a curved in blade, and it hurts you more that it hurts the people you hate. From today start counting your blessings, look at how lucky you are to have a wonderful father and how lucky you are that you went to the best schools and you are smart and talented and most f all the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

Baby girl, I wish you spend as much time as possible on being happy when you are still young. Get excited about the little things around you, get excited about wearing a new pair of shoes, about Sunday outing with your friends about that new guy who smiled at you on your way to church, about finding an extra shilling in your pocket that you had forgotten about because as you grow up, passions fade and the enthusiasm get mistaken for foolishness, so don’t let anyone or anything get in your way of happiness. If you want a nice body, go to the gym and get it (your father is an expert in that), if you want to  be a doctor (yes your father told me you want to be a doctor), study your ass off to get to your goal, if you want a nice hair style pick a style and get it done, never stop to motivate yourself, never stop trying new things, because your happiness is out there waiting for you and no one will bring it to you, so you have to find it and be happy. Life is too short to be anything but happy.

We are all here for a purpose, we are all here for a reason, growing up my parents had opinions on what I should do, what I should study, what I should wear and who I should become. But darling I want you to know, your purpose in this world might not make sense to many people, not even to your dad.  You may tell it to your friends and they my laugh at you not because it is something bad but it because they don’t understand it. I want you to follow what your heart want you to do and do it with all your heart. It does not matter what others say, as long as your true to your heart desires and your energy and intentions are pure you can become anything you want to be.

My dear, as women it is our duty to balance intelligence, femininity and divinity. The three are like the cooking stones, if you miss one you can never cook with two. And yeah I know When you’re smart and many people will think you’re a bitch, may be they will call you names, some names will come to your attention some will not, but never let these intimidate you from being the best version of yourself. Be confident so that all other woman and daughters will look up to you. Always remember you are a work in progress, you are still under construction and no matter what mistakes you do today I pray you learn and grow from them but never should they stop you from being a star you are meant to be. A woman without God is a woman who has lost direction; do not ever lose your faith in God, no matter what other people tell you or how bad the situation seem to be.

Baby girl, now let’s talk about that important part of your life that you may never be able to discuss it with your father and your father will never be able to advice you on it; boys. Darling, there will always be women out there who are better that you, who are smarter than you and who have more money than you, but if you find that right person, if you find that missing piece of the puzzle you will never have to worry about him finding someone else. I am not saying the journey to find this man is going to be easy, no...! it is never easy, you will have to kiss a lot of frogs before you can meet that one frog who  will turn into a prince. your sweet heart will be broken along the way, there are going to be days when you won’t have the energy to get out of bed, the days that you will want to give up and put a stop to everything, the days that you will think your life has no meaning, the thing is no matter what, you are not allowed to give up. You are given life you are supposed to live it. Get out of town, cry yourself to sleep, curse, do anything to get that pain out of you but never give up on life or love.  We are not meant to stay wounded; we are not meant to stay in pain so move through your tragedies and challenges and help others who may need your help.

Even after all this I am sure there is a day that you will meet one person. A person who will love you more than anybody you have ever known and you will know their love it true. They will love you with every bit of energy and soul, they will say all the right words at the right time, they will surrender and give you so much that it scares you, but darling I want to let you in on a little secret that I had to learn the hard way. Some people are good at being in love and others at love. Yeah, I know you think they are the same thing but they are not, being in love is the romantic part of a relationship, sex all the time , the jokes, the laughs the fun the long conversations with no pauses about all the crazy things, overwhelming separation anxiety and all the best sides of both of you. But true love begins when the excitement of being in love starts to fade; life stress sets in the butterflies disappears the sex becomes a chore, the tears and sadness become your guests, the never stop arguments become part of your life, in short the worst part of person becomes real. If you still want each other after all this then I will be happy to welcome him home when he asks for your hand in marriage.

So my dear, before you bring him home, before you introduce him to you father, see him scared, see him in despair and wanting, see him sick, see him bankrupt, see him stressed, stress changes a person. Find out what he does in his free time, find out what he does when he think he can get away with it, find out if he has an addiction and see if he puts you in front of it. Find out if he drinks, get him drunk and see how he behaves, my dear let no one deceive you, you can never change a person if they do not decide to change themselves. At times you have to make the tough decisions and burn the bridges so that you don’t cross them again. And yeah it is never easy, it’s like when you get your tooth pulled out. The process is painful and even though after a while you will be relieved that the pain has ended, there will be many times when your tongue will run itself over the spot where the tooth once was; Countless times may be, just because it’s no longer hurting it does not mean you do not notice its absence. But should you have kept the tooth?? No!! It was causing you pain it had to be removed. So baby girl, don’t be afraid to cut ties with anyone who causes you more pain than happiness.

 Last but not least Beyonce, in the end everything will be okay, well not everything but most things. Sometimes you will put up a really good fight and loose, sometime you will hold on to something for so long and at the end you will realize you have to let it go. It’s okay to let it go. All I want for you is at the end of the day you can look back and be proud that you gave it your all. Nothing protects the heart like patience. Don’t get your hopes up too fast, don’t allow your fears to speak too loud and don’t give your doubts too much time.

Endless love

.......me.......

The confession

Dear diary

I am a murderer and this is my confession.

First of all, I want you to know I was not always this way. I was not always a murderer and a cold blooded person. I was born and raised in a beautiful warm normal environment. My life was okay up to the point that is was not anymore. I was taught to look at the positive direction until there was nothing positive to look at, I was taught to never lose hope until hope was the last thing to lose. I was taught to believe in God even when nothing seems to be working out. I was taught that I had a destiny until I realized I make my own destiny.

From the moment I was born, from the moment I started to understand and comprehend the complexes of life, i  was taught and reassured that I have a part to play in this world. It doesn’t matter what that part is but it is important for the world to be a better place. I was given hopes, I was given knowledge on how I can perfectly play that part. But somewhere along the lines I lost my family. Not that they were gone but they lost connection with me, they didn’t see me or what I was going through.

Sometimes it felt like I was drowning in an ocean, and every day that goes by I was sinking deeper and deeper in the ocean of loneliness and confusion and they did not notice. Even when I try to tell them they would look me with confused faces wondering what I am struggling over when they are all doing just fine not knowing that I was trying so hard to keep my head above the water.

Then one day I fell in love with a boy, he loved me or so I like to think, he became my source of comfort, he was there for me, he understood me and listened to me. He was my only chance of hope, my only chance at redemption until one day he decided he would not talk to me anymore. At some point I knew that was going to happen because he was the light and I was the dark... the two could never meet, I just didn’t know it was going to be so soon. But now that it was here I could not shake off the feeling that I was never enough for him, that no matter how hard I tried I just could never be enough. I had imagined this pain several times but I was wrong, this was more than I had ever imagined.

Then when the pain ended I became empty. I didn’t know what to feel and I needed to feel something to know I was alive, I began to cut myself, enthralled by what the razor could do. I am addicted to the pain and when it is not there I have to create it. I hurt myself, sometimes I have no idea how deeply I do it, but without it my body feels like a lonely temporary container that I happen to be borrowing.

I never tried to hurt anyone consciously, but every time I stand naked in front of my mirror, the scars on my body remind me of the demons i fought at 3 am when everyone was sleeping, the insecurities and the lonely nights, the depressions and the feelings of rejections I couldn’t contain, they also remind me how I have changed, how self centered and cruel I have grown to be. I have become the kind of person who could use a lame excuse to inflict pain on a person I cared for a wound that would never heal.

The jovial funny girl who used to have lots of friends no longer exist, the girl who used to spend weekends in the library now spends it in the bathroom thinking of the way to make pain more painful, the girl who could not hurt a fly now enjoys to inflict pain on herself and others, the brave girl I used to see in the mirror is a distant memory that no longer exist.

Dear diary, am a murderer, I killed the girl I used to be.

Why Men should marry women above 35 years

The younger the better; it’s what every man says and believes. For years, men have been in relationship or even getting married to women who could be their daughters and granddaughters as long as their age is below 35 years. Societies have been quick to embrace relationships with high age discrepancy provided the older of the two participants is a man and not woman. These are the kind of relationships people call normal.

However, there is a new normal that I think all people should embrace because of its benefits to both partners. Yeah I know you might not agree with me now but maybe you should comprehend my reasons first. Just like you, I come from a society where a young man being in relationship with an older woman above 35 is deemed unacceptable. In most instances, the man would normally be branded a gold digger.  I don’t know why any man would not value women above 35 years.

When women are above the age of 35 years, they seize to depend on their physical appearance to attract men. Instead, they study to be good and maintain their influence over men. They supply their diminution of beauty by an augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand services to their men both small and great. They become the most caring and tender creatures and not to forget useful friends who make it almost impossible to find a woman aver 35 years who is not a good woman.

For men who fear unplanned pregnancies, fear not. Most of these women already know what they want, how they want it and with whom, they know their bodies like the back of their palm, they can plan and decide if they should have a child with you or not. And in case they decide to have a child with you, don’t you worry because they won’t force you to provide for it since they always have a backup plan.

Women above 35 are always mature. If she doesn’t want to watch a game with you she doesn’t sit around whining about it or fight over a remote control with you. She finds something she wants to do because she already knows there is usually something more interesting than the game she does not enjoy or arguing with you.

Women above 35 yrs have no problem introducing you to their friends and neither do they ask you to live your friends for fear that they will teach you to be unfaithful. She has self assurance that her friends will not betray her and for that matter care less if you are attracted to them. They also know you are mature and can make your own decisions. Besides, they are psychic. You don’t have to confess your sins to them as they are always in the know and choose to ignore.

Women above 35 years are full of knowledge about life and everything that surround them. Their minds are simply better stored with life lessons from both experience and observation. Their conversation is more improved and gives points that hold water whenever they are involved in an argument.

In conclusion, women above 35 are experienced in all matters relationship- from the bedroom to child raising to everything. Not to mention they are prudent and discreet when in relationship which makes the commerce with them safer with regard to your reputation in case of an affair.

147 Not Just A Number!!

In the wake of the Garissa massacre, Kenyans came out in their droves to convey their heartfelt condolences. While this is quite laudable in every aspect, the truth of the matter is that we have formed a habit of raising serious questions and thereafter going on with our lives until the next tragedy happens. The Westgate attack brought us together as we sought to support men, women and children whose lives had been cut short in the hands of murderous terrorists. We donated blood, foodstuffs, sent M-pesa and when all was said and done, we moved on with our lives as if nothing ever happened.

We never got to know of the faces, of the stories, of the dreams that those who perished in the Westgate attack had. We, in our characteristic fashion, coined the “we are one” phrase and moved on. We held long debates on where the problems lay, the loopholes in the security system and what could have been done better to prevent this catastrophe from happening. Every time we are under a siege of sorts, what we see from the government is kneejerk reaction. As much as I would like to dwell on all this, my conscience can’t allow me considering how fresh the memory of the recent attack in Garissa is in my mind.

147 not just a number has been the hash tag trend on twitter and many other social networks. It’s a stark reminder to all and sundry that the lives lost in the latest terror attack won’t just be a statistic. For long, we have quantified the number of people killed in terror attacks or any other kind of unfortunate incidents. We have, successfully so, managed to sweep under the carpet their dreams, expectations and denied them of their place in history. Just like the slain police officers in Baragoi, we have refused to put a face behind their names, to document their sacrifices, their commitment to service and above all the tribulations they go through every single day to make this nation a safe haven to each and every single citizen.

We must refuse to ascribe to the norm of all talk while nothing is done to properly remember the souls that have lost their lives. We must celebrate each and every student who perished. We must tell their stories, their aspirations, and their dreams and document them as a constant reminder that as a nation we are bleeding. We need to walk around and see what murderous acts have done to the well being of this nation. 147 families are in pain, Kenya as a nation is in pain. The question is; are we going to just sit back and move on while saying those killed were just 147?

Were those not humans who had dreams and aspirations of a better tomorrow? Were those not individuals who died without ever having to put their ides to practice? Were those not individuals whose families had placed so much hope in them? It beats logic that we have become so adept at issuing condolences while giving a wide berth to the very things that unite us as a country. We must speak out on the ills bedeviling our country. We must speak out on the haphazard way in which the lives of ordinary Kenyans are handled.

147 not just a number is not just a hash tag as some of us have literally taken it to be. It’s a message to all and sundry that these are bright lights that have been dimmed. It’s an attempt to celebrate the lives of individuals who in their quest to make our country a better place met an untimely death in the hands of blood thirsty and brainwashed radicalized terrorists. It’s a rallying call that such a thing need not happen again. We must feel safe in our own country and we must do everything in our power to ensure that such blatant killings of innocent lives do not recur.

Lastly, while celebrating the lives of these 147 great Kenyans, we must also ensure that we are not sucked into the unnecessary hatred of a particular religion. We must not be sucked into the cheap propaganda that a particular religion is responsible for the wanton and heinous killings. This is just but a diversionary and divisive tactic that these heinous terrorists are using to create a rift among the peace loving Kenyans. Yes, we have a lot of questions on why there is discrimination based on religion whenever these heartless terrorists strike. However, this need not be a catalyst to start a campaign that will hurt us as a nation. We are one and must work together if we are to slain the ugly head of terrorism.

To the 147 families that lost their loved ones, to the many relatives and friends who are reeling in pain and anger, please remember that we refuse to make the 147 just a number. We refuse to refer to them as just as a statistic. We want document their names in the annals of history, document their aspirations and forever remember them as the future generation that never got to touch the silver lining of their dreams. Kenyans must unite and let all and sundry know that 147 is not just a number. The 147 are brothers, sisters, cousins, and friends whose lives were cut short but whose memories we must keep alive!!!

The last letter (Reply to Africa Kills her Sun)

Africa kills her Sun By Ken Saro Wiva

Dear Bana,

In every letter that I ever wrote to you, I knew exactly how to begin it, what I was going to say in the middle and how I was going to end it. It was never difficult. I wrote them effortlessly, probably because I thought I knew you that I was writing to the man I once knew and fell for, or may be it’s because I knew there was a possibility of a reply no matter how small it seemed to be. But today, I sit here with a pen and a paper and all I can do is wet my paper with tears. Tears of lost love, tears of unimaginable pain, and tears of a dream deferred.

I am crying for so many reasons. I cry because you are dead, because you turned out to be the very thing you swore never to be but most of all, am crying because you gave up on us in your quest for selfish patriotic ideas! We could have had a life together, we could have had our children and we could have had our happily ever after if you did not choose that stupid profession and gave your life to save your friends. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?? Had you lost all your senses? Were you under some form of spell? I have so many questions that seem to have no clear answer.

I don’t know how I should feel about all this.  I don’t even know what this is so am just going to write anything that comes to mind starting with the memories that have tormented me for the past 10 years. Do you remember where we used to meet? Do you remember back in the days when we concocted all form of lies just to spend some time together? Do you remember how you would lie to your mother that you were going to cut grass for the goats, and I would say I was going to fetch water in the stream only for us to disappear together in the forest, eat fruits all day, play and dance together as though the rest of the world did not exist? Do you remember how you used to hold me so tight and tell me you would give up anything to have me by your side? Do you remember our long conversations and true confessions under the sycamore tree? Do you remember how we used to bath together in the river Nash? I don’t know if you remember, or even how you could forget all these because for me, these memories kept me going when you were nowhere to be seen. They kept me going when you vanished without a trace!

I still remember the day I found out you had left without saying goodbye as if it just happened few hours ago. It was Saturday 10^th June; I went to our usual meeting place in the afternoon hoping to see you. I had a surprise for you; a sweater I had been knitting in secret for our future first born. I was so excited to show you how pretty it was and how I could not wait to have a baby with you. We had agreed we were going to call him Syna. The Initials to our two favorite places. So I went there and you were nowhere to be seen. I sat for hours, waiting, wondering what could have happened to you. Then, when the sun set, I had to go back home confused; wondering what could have happened to you. My worries were not unfounded as you had never missed a date with me even when you were sick. I spent the night staring into the darkness, wetting my pillow, my heart in my mouth, questions of what could have befallen the love of my life running through my mind.

The next morning I went to church, prayed for your well being and that you show up at our usual meeting place. When the time came I went to our meeting point with my little black sweater. I didn’t find you and waited in vain. I decided to go to your house; a decision that was not easy considering your mom never liked me. She was always irked at my sight and always disapproved of my relationship with you. Luckily, I didn’t find her home as she had gone to fetch water from the stream. Your younger brother was home and he told me you had left to look for a job in town.

In as much as I was relieved that you were not sick, dead or in prison, I was a little bit mad that you never found it proper to inform me of your plans before you set out on your sojourn. That notwithstanding, I was astounded, shocked beyond measure when I finally came to learn of the path you had taken. My heart broke into pieces when I realized you had ascribed to some stupid patriotic principles that had consumed your soul. How could you do that? How could you swear your love for me in one minute and the next take off without saying goodbye as if I never meant anything to you? How could we be talking about building the family together, having a future together and before I know it you have vanished without a trace? I cried, I cursed and I blamed you for a very long time. But even in all this, I never stopped writing to you or going to our meeting place every chance I got. Sometimes, I would write a note and leave it under the sycamore tree hoping that by some miracle you will collect it. I know it sounds crazy but somehow, I thought you might one day come back to me. Needless to say, that was wishful thinking.

It wasn’t easy being the girl I used to be when you left. I was broken, shattered and my mum thought I wasn’t going to live. I didn’t eat or drink for days. I cried every time I looked at that little black sweater and the thought that you never got to see it, and you never even got a chance to know I was making it. After a while my Aunty Nina came to visit and I begged her to take me with her. I felt like there was no longer a place for me in the village. Everything reminded me of you, everyone reminded me of you. I wanted to start afresh; I wanted to be happy again. Little did I know when you left you took a part of me that I could never get back.

I started school again in Masagura high school back in the village where my aunt lived with her family. I was determined to be the best so that I could be chosen to join Kwamanga College in town with a hope of meeting you some day. When the time came I did my exams and passed with flying colors. I remember the day I went back home to inform my parents of the news that I was going to a college in town. They were so happy for me. I passed by your house to ask if you had been around, if you got any of my letters I sent to you and I was told you never came back, your mother gave me back my letters, some of them were half way eaten by rats. So I took them put them in the small bag my father had bought me in the market hoping I would give them to you in person when I met you.

My life in college was okay, except for the fact that while other girls would engage in the social activities after school I walked around asking people if they knew you. I had an old picture of you the one you took the day you got your confirmation, am not sure you remember it, I  knew you might have changed considering you took that picture a long time ago but I decided to give it a short. My friends thought I was crazy to look for a man who left me without even a goodbye but I told them I just wanted to know why you did what you did. I needed to hear it from you. After two years of searching with no success I began to lose hope, I became desperate so I found myself in toxic relationships.  Now that I think about it, I realize I never really stopped looking for you. I was still looking for you in other people. Everyman I slept with, or had a relationship with was because he had something that reminded me of you. The truth is I didn’t care whose bed I slept in as long as it made me feel close to you.

Then, one morning, I woke up to the news of bandits who were going to be killed in the stadium. Your name was mentioned alongside other names that I didn’t recognize. I gazed at the picture in an old TV set at my boyfriend’s apartment and I saw your face. I didn’t even shower; I took off to the bus stop, took the first bus hoping I could get just few minutes with you before they kill you but by the time I got there you were already dead. Your body had been taken by the city police. I knew my chance to get answers was gone. I cried so hard until my voice and the tears dried out. The city was no longer a good place for me, so I went back home to our village, there is where I found the letter you wrote to me.

If you are wondering how it made me feel, well don’t, because it made me feel as though I had lost you all over again, it was more like the day I found out you left without saying good bye. You say you are proud of your profession; that you are in company of presidents and ministers and social workers, since when did you start to care about how others live their lives? Since when did it become about the wrong things just because everyone else is doing it? How could you forget your good morals and do the bad things just because no one is telling you to stop? How did you become so selfish that you forgot your whole family depended on you? Your father used everything he had to take you to school with a hope that you would help your siblings after you got a job and you repay him by throwing your life away under the lame excuse of solidarity? I am disappointed in you in ways I can never explain, I thought you knew better.

Anyway, I have spoken to your father about your statue, he suggested we put your grave among your ancestors, we did not get your body but we are still going to make a grave as you asked me to. In it we will put anything that symbolizes you and burry it. For me I will put all the letters I wrote to you in the past ten years and the little black sweater I was to show you before you left. Just so you know am not doing this because you deserve it. But for the sake of the love we once shared, I will grant you your last wish.

I hope we meet again in the next life because I have so many questions that only you can answer them.

Love,

Zole