“Guuuuys! You know this is my last day here and you won’t see me again until Karma knows when. It’s my daaay!” She said with a whine in her tone. Her face became round as she frowned over the minimal attention she was getting from her pals who had gathered to see her off. She has melanin written all over her face and of course her body though I don’t have tangible evidence to prove that. But she is safely dark. Perhaps that is the only visible aspect about her being Luo. She does not have an accent – in fact life is not fair. She should have been a black American.  She would have a reality show of her own by now. She speaks so well and knows too much. I would say she knows things beyond her age but she is past eighteen. Case closed. By the way I feel no shame in saying that she does talk a lot because she admits it herself. She even says that she is sorry whenever she is around. She automatically kills the show because I am the one who talks. But she talks a lot. Some people were just born talking. I doubt whether she loves fish, though I am sure about chicken. Girls who know they are pretty love chicken. Those who only think they are pretty, well I don’t know about you. Just keep thinking and decide whether you are pretty or merely fearfully made. She does not use the word ‘bwana’ or ‘yawa’ in her sentences whenever she switches to Swahili. And she cannot even speak Luo. I have evidence. She once received a call from her mum when I was around and she spoke in English from the beginning to the end. What am I saying? I am saying that there are those who will slay with English all day, never admitting to anyone about their origin but when baba calls, humility possesses them like a ghost, “Eh ndaddy niendeye nesa na niwo Ngai ni museo,” … “Onakwa nimumissi muno!”  True story there by the way. So you see, nothing shows she is Luo but her rich dark skin.
“Can’t you hear I am talking!” Finally she was granted attention. She loves attention. I mean who does not love attention? But this particular one really loves it like a daily dose of pot to keep her spirits high and her attitude on check. She doesn’t have an attitude. But here is what she says, “I only have an attitude to guys behaving like an *** around me.”
“You people are not even treating me like I am going. Today is my day.”
“Okay Kez. Let’s help you carry your stuff. You are the one who is stressing yourself with your own luggage.” Zid my ol’ nigga said. I don’t know whether this is good news, but the two happen to be best friends. They are perfect contrasts of each other but I came to know that it is not like so in everything. They make a team worth being titled international when it comes to some life crimes.
So Kez is her name. She is the maker of the headlines in girls’ gossips around campus. She is feared and loved at the same time. I used to fear her too. It’s my moment of truth now. I didn’t fear her because of anything but the fact that I heard that mjangos fear her. I was curious to know why people feared her. Thank God people are not like mountains, we met on a hangout occasion one time. I felt privileged. I don’t know why. And you know what? I realized that there is nothing to be feared in her. She just looks like she can tell you all your secrets and dark sins when you cross her path. Nothing else. Though who in all his or her sanity would want to have where they were and who they were with last night announced before their faces? Definitely not me, though I can dare her to try and then I’d tell the rest of you cowardly mjangos if it’s true.
“No, you’re just busy taking selfies as if you are happy that I am going.” She looked like she was going to cry. She didn’t though. The time hadn’t come yet. You mjangos should obviously know by now that I get traumatized when a girl cries. As a straight member of the boy child community, I think I should start
learning how to cry too. Someone told me while we were in the third cloud of romance that real men do cry. So I have to start shaving my ego and after I do that, I was assured that we would proceed till the ninth cloud. I can’t wait to get to cloud nine mjango, where a cry is a mixture of laughter, maybe pain and pleasure.
“No we are not Kez.” I said trying to sound sweet. “But let’s enjoy the last moments with you while it lasts.” She smiled. A million dollar moment there.
Kez was leaving for home in Kisumu for good. She was relocating her studies to another university located along one of the edges in the Kenyan map. People got wind of her leaving. Even those who feared her were sad she was leaving. Maybe they thought about who they were going to fear after she is gone. Maybe they are the kind of people who fear other people in order to live. Do people like that even exist? Perhaps they had fallen in love with their fear for her and now, they have no choice but to be heart broken. So I suggest for their consolation, they can start fearing me for the time being until another Kez shows up. I am a good guy, but just fear me anyway.
She shed tears when she was about to board the matatu. Seems she had never imagined that that time would ever come. Now she was standing before her best friends and behind her an almost overloaded matatu just waiting for her to bid her friends a kwa heri kwa sasa. I couldn’t help but think that she would actually sit on a sambaza. Kez? Sit on a sambaza? “Dereva simamisha gari nishuke!” Maybe she’d say. Anyway a moment silence for the tears the girl child shed despite having expensive make up on.
Thank you.
You know I didn’t realize she had makeup on until she mentioned it. Oh you melanins! “You guys I can’t actually believe I’m gonna cry. I wish I didn’t apply makeup. This is the hardest part.” Yes it was hard for us too darling. Though maybe what we thought but didn’t say was that we weren’t sure whether the tears were shared between your love for us and your love for makeup. Forgive us however. We only know too well that the boy child has no right to ask for more than he is given. How merciful. That is why we do not feel even a gram of discontentment for only giving us hugs as you said goodbye. It was however noted that one of us was hugged twice while others only received one round. This person felt alittle bit special and decided to write this. But there will be a meeting after this to discuss whether it meant anything. Be prepared to administer one more round to the other boy children if it is discovered that the second hug was intentional yet it had no strings attached – when you come back.
Speaking of coming back, Kez came back last weekend to pay a visit. It was rumored that when she comes back, tables in the club would be turned.
“Guys it feels so good to be back.” She said while hugging the crew. A hug was as long one’s value to her life. So some probably don’t know that they are silently and politely being asked to up their game. Mjango, for how long will I teach you these things?
“Feels good to have you babe. Thank you for making it for my bash tonight,” Macy says as they embrace like the way girls do. Boy child just you try and start calling your fellow boy “Babe.”… I mean, no one will stop you.
As they went to prepare for the night after supper, “I can already smell that tonight is gonna be lit. Where is team Bluemoon?” Kez said while raising one hand. Oh you better not be shocked mjango. I
have been in the midst of conversations around Kez that made me take off my glasses and wear my hoodie to rid of my recognition.
“Watu wa kubleki after sip mbili?” Zid says and everyone laughs.
“Akina blogger.” Kez says. My association with that joke made the joke even funnier. Yes it was a just a joke. The smell of booze is enough to get me tipsy. I only go to clubs in movies, series and the stories they bring on Saturday afternoon or Monday morning. It all depends on weight of the hangover. They don’t talk about what happened last Friday on Sunday. These people respect Sunday it seems. They call me the blogger.
“Where is the blogger by the way?” Kez asks.
“Maybe ameenda club mapema ndo tusimwone,” Ian says.
These mjangos said all these things thinking I would never know.
“Aki you guys leave the blogger out of this. We all know what he is capable of doing when he hears how we made fun of him. Atatumulika kwa blog yake aki.” Esther, a short wonderfully made girl says. Sometimes she is the soft voice of reason in the crew. She looks humble. She is humble. But you wait until Bluemoon does what it is made to do. She begged me not to say, so I won’t say. One day she might cover up for me too.
“Blogger anakuja bash yangu?” Macy asks. The bash she keeps talking about explains why she is elated. I am touched by the way she was concerned about my turn up.
“Amesema hatamake.” Zid says.
“Leo Mercy uitishe birthday present! You know what birthday present I am talking about. Ako wapi bae?” Kez says. The rest exclaim in reaction to what she means.
“Macy who is the lucky man?”
Macy is speechless.
“Mimi na boyfriend tushajipanga. Ama niaje my boyfriend?” Kez says while looking at a guy in the crew with dyed hair and geek glasses. He has a chest like a rhino and the look of a wrestler. I see what rugby does to mjangos now. The two wear geek glasses by the way. I wonder if that is what they consider as their bae goals.
The mjango only smiles as if he has to and walks head down wishing there was a rock to kick. Poor boy child with bae admission problems.
Come Saturday afternoon. I innocently pass next to a food place. I spot someone in a black pair of tights, old school shoes, a crop top and geeks dramatizing what I don’t want to believe was what went down on the previous night. It’s Kez, being herself even in a food place. It’s obvious that she wasn’t alone. Always having the suicide squad with her. I walked in and switched to my hyper mode. I knew what to expect. Well, I wasn’t wrong.
“Heeeey look who is here!”
“Eeeiy mjango! Umepotelea wapi.”
“How dare you miss my bash aki!”
“You had one opportunity to collect stories from your blog and you missed it!”
“You could have just come and drunk soda ata kama. You should have just showed up for me…”
“Si you tell me what happened jana.”
Laughing, “Noo! They cannot allow me to. I could have told you about theirs but not mine.”
“Weh! Don’t say anything.”
“Mjango ntakuonyesha videos nikonazo ujionee.”
“Aki don’t show him,”
“We’ll kill you if you do!”
“We should tell him about Shimmishimmi.” They burst out laughing.
“Who is Shumishumi now?”
“You don’t worry.”
“Guys don’t be like that. There is nothing to hide,”
They said in unison, “There is everything to hide!”
“Or go ask the one who was forced into a dry spell.” They laugh again.
I chuckle, “Nani alikula dry spell nikambembeleze?”
“Don’t worry dear. We missed you though.” Kez said.
“After mmenifeelisha eh?”
They laughed and got down to the rolls of chapatis before them. They were starving. For all they know, the last time they ate felt like a week ago.


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Written by The Mjango

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zidane gimiga
5 years ago

Jesooos! ???

5 years ago

“What am I saying? I’m saying…” The nostalgia that came with that line…???

Moses mambo
Moses mambo
5 years ago

Dope msee ⭐???⭐

This is the beginning of ur success in blogging i can see utaonyesha watu vumbi kwa io contest ya blogging ..Big up mehn

Brian Jay
5 years ago