Your girlfriend leaves with no apparent reason(s). You don’t leave your socks on the floor, you actually never wear socks, you don’t mix dirty laundry with the clean ones, so you are wondering why the hell she left; was it the color of your dishes she didn’t like or was it because you didn’t even have any, or maybe she is into matadors or maasai morans, someone who can kill a lion with his bare hands, someone who roasts crocodile balls for breakfast, maybe you just didn’t seem like that guy who flirts with danger. It could be you never use a particular emoji in your texts and she forever waited that you would realize it and change, she prayed that you meet some gay guy in some bank ATM queue who would teach you the importance of that particular emoji in a relationship, but that never happened or maybe you are the guy who keeps his savings under your mattress so you never met any gay guy in any ATM queue.
I am yet to get over this/her or get the answer why and maybe get new dishes or attend emoji classes when its one fine Monday morning…wait I lied there are never any fine Monday mornings. So on this one, my roommate phone rings and it’s a damn boring alarm on another boring Monday morning and the alarm tone is what would freeze Mugabe’s wits. Never mind it’s 3’something in the morning and he is snoring like he just won the lottery. So I crawl out of bed and switch the damn thing off but midway I stumble on his phone charger cable and his phone drops on the ground and the charger spoils. This is going to be a long Monday. I crawl back to bed as I try and figure out where they sell android chargers at a cheap price along Tom Mboya. Android chargers are cheap but it’s mid month.
I can’t think of any place, I could just sleep and tell him that there must have been an earthquake or some hurricane Katrina that passed on its way to America, he wouldn’t know what that is or maybe he knows, either way I will take my chances. Later that day, I visit my friend who sells chargers at his home. I am kidding he doesn’t sell chargers he doesn’t even own a smart phone but don’t judge him yet he knows what whatsapp is. To cut a long story short, I mean to cut you the nonsense now that we weren’t discussing business or where I would get a new girlfriend…he is one of those guys who would ask his ancestors to haunt you for a couple of weeks for not closing the door behind you as you leave his house. I am pulling the door knob and before I realize it my left hand thumb is between the door’s frame and the vertical edge of the door so I crush it, not so badly that I can’t lick it when you invite me for a delicious dish of chapati and chicken but it hurts like hell, no like losing a girlfriend who wears sneakers with beautiful races and not those pointed loafers with shiny buckles.
You guessed it right my Monday is fucked up (PG) or maybe it’s true after all ‘misfortunes don’t come singly’. Here is the fucked up part no all are fucked up so this is the bestest fucked up part. The climax. The part that will make you come. It’s around 5pm, 1400GMT and I am in my house with some three other guys, we are not discussing where I’ll get another charger neither is it a tribunal to figure out where I might have gone wrong with my girlfriend, no this time you didn’t “guess it right”, sorry I know how it feels. Everyone is minding his own business on the internet, there’s Wi-Fi; I am downloading the latest episode of GOT, Tom is on some betting site, Sam is stalking Sidika’s ass, and Dick is on some dating site. *Names have been changed for confidentiality*. Haha
So, Dick is fixing his eyebrows so he can video chat some girl from Nicaragua, when some two uninvited guys come into the room without knocking. Whatever happened to manners? One is of average height and the other quite taller. The taller one brandishes a pistol and promises not to hurt us in a way that can be trusted. (Tall, dark and with a gun, or what do you look for ladies?) They are looking for a “Ken”. They are what you would call well dressed and maybe well fed if you will. I tell them there’s no Ken or Kens here but they insist that we lie on our bellies with our faces deep in the floor, at some point they mention about checking our IDs so they can be sure we are not lying but they don’t do so, the shorter guy (the one who is not tall dark and with a gun) picks my shirts and those of my roommate from the hangers on the wall and he starts tying our hands and our feet together, our mouths too. They are still talking of a Ken so we assume this is just due protocol, they will be out of here as soon as they realize that their informer is a cheat and “Ken” is probably in some ‘Chai Moto’ hotel with some village girl in Murang’a.
Just after they had tied us up they started collecting our phones and packing them in my backpack, laptops too even before Dick’s new catch from Nicaragua had sent him pictures of herself probably nudes. I protested and tried to speak out of the cloth that was tied across my mouth the taller guy threatened to blow up my brains and he blind folded me. Luckily these bastards could only find the padlock with no keys otherwise they would have locked us in. By the time we managed to untie ourselves they were long gone with a 760 dollar laptop and another one that is slightly above half its price, three phones and a camera. This Monday!
That left holes in our souls, holes in our trust and maybe holes in our pockets. Things that stop you dreaming. But the point is life moves on, that wasn’t the last Monday, I have actually survived one after that and there will be more to survive probably more fucked up ones but how you live up Tuesday is what matters. Lungs full with air, eyes in your sockets and a heart that beats like a leaking tap on a night when you can’t get a plumber to fix it. Perhaps we don’t have to figure out life, maybe it just is. There will always be a hole, you will always seem to gain less than you lose, and boy did I just sound inspirational? I think not. We should never let things hold us down, so next time you lose don’t lock yourself up and wish death on you, people have greater, perhaps ‘better’ problems. So dress up, walk in the streets, tag a street kid along, check into domino’s, grab a pizza, tip the waiter, check your weight and BMI on those talking machines on the street, walk into a bar order margaritas for all present(on them), chat up the bartender, call your girlfriend at 2 in the morning, if you don’t have any Dick could connect you with one from Austria or Timbuktu, whichever is your type…because that’s life and it’s for the living so live it or you are better off dead.
Ps. Domino’s pizza did not pay for that promo, so if you read this and you happen to visit their outlets or order a delivery remember to mention me. I could do with some pizza too.
Peace and Love.