Dogs Or What! The Series

DOGS OR WHAT! VII

“I broke my leash. I was all over the place like a mad rat looking for a mate. Someone watching would say I was looking for a mate by the way. But I was wild twerking to whatever stood behind me. Even if it was a pole I’d still break off my back on it.
And all this time he was just watching. He had never seen me like that. I bet he had never imagined I’d ever be like that. I felt like I crossed it when I threw up. For everyone else it was fun and so nobody cared. You can imagine he cleaned it and also had a girl friend of mine make sure I get a change of clothes just before I blacked out.”
(Read the preceding blog here.)
“Sounds major,” I said and peered into the view from the window behind her.
There was a pigeon on the base of the window pane. Its fellows came by and flew away but it remained there. Seems like it had been there even before I noticed. Listening in to my conversation with Njambi. Like it had been sent from Heaven to spy on us.
I hear the good book says that the things around us will testify about all what we do on earth. I thought of sharing my diverted line of thought with her but I figured she might think that I think weirdly.
So maybe the floor in her 20th birthday party would testify against her saying, “She threw up on me!”
And the Lord would ask, “Are you sure Floor?”
“Yes yes!” Says Floor. “Si she is the one who was celebrating her birthday on that day. Nobody drunk and danced like she did. She had no manners at all! Upto date I still smell her…”
“Okaay that’s enough Floor.” Says the Lord.
“But before you go, could you please testify about the guy who wiped you after she threw up?”
“Oh you mean threw up on me, right? Sure I can. He was a good guy. He walked carefully on me as if afraid he’d hurt me. He seemed to care about the girl. Yea you know which girl. (Rolls the eyes. As if floors have eyes anyway.) While in the balcony alone, he said a prayer for her. Oh he is a good guy my Lord.”
The Lord nods His head and jots something on a big book lying on an ancient, bonnie, concrete stand. I’m imagining He’d be having on a pair of shiny old, oval framed glasses hanging by His nose. By His chin is a massive bush of snow white beard. And no he would not be having a cigar sticking out of His mouth.
Afterwards the Lord would say, “Eh Floor, seems we are not done yet.”
Floor starts to look muzzy.
“Could you also testify about what happened on the night of,” He turns and runs a finger on the book as if to look for what to read. The finger stops at a point and He looks up, “February 14th, 2015.”
“My Lord. That testimony. I… I cannot tell it alone.”
“Who should we call to accompany you in your testimony?”
“Bed. Call the Bed my Lord.”
Just then, an angel, Michael perhaps, would rush to whisper something in the Lord’s ears. He nods twice and pushes back His glasses.
Clears His throat, “Floor, that testimony has been written off. Neither do we need Bed for the testimony. You’re free to go.”

****

The first guy she ever dated when she was 22 was who she did call Mr. Right at the time. I asked her what a man would have to have to merit as Mr. Right to her back then. She giggled and shook her head as if she didn’t believe she was being asked such a question.
“Mr. Right for me was to be just my first and only man. He’d be the man I’d get married to.” She said. “He’d have to be a provider for starters. And for sure he was. He was an ambitious man and his hard work paid him well. He’d have to add value to my life, be a team player, ready to settle; no more boyish games and he’d have to prove that he was serious about being in a relationship with me.”
“And I’m assuming he passed your test.”
“Oh yes he did. Until I realised that he had passed the test I had examined him on but he failed the one I didn’t examine.”
She had reached a point where she was ready to have him go on his knees at any time. Her sisters were envious of her. They marvelled at how she had got her first shot right. Like a bull’s eye right at the heart of a dartboard.
She upheld her standing for no sex before marriage like a torch that should never touch the ground lest it starts a fire all around. He was okay with it. After one and a half years, he expressed his intention to marry her. But he wanted a private wedding.
“So none of your friends could attend your wedding?” I asked.
“In fact, none of my people should have to know that I was getting married. Only my family.”
“Likewise for him?”
“Precisely. I figured there was something he was not telling me.
I thank Heavens I am not the type to leave things to oblivion all in the name of love. I saw the red flag and pursued it. I found out that he worked so hard to earn not because he wanted to be a good father and husband, but firstly because he was already a father to someone and therefore a baby daddy.
Thank God for Facebook by the way.
People out there should know that if they want to hide their past, they should delete their Facebook accounts or something.
I was heart broken Mjango. I didn’t know heartbreak felt like a chicken being twisted by the neck. Or being run over by a herd of buffaloes. It was my first shot at love and I was already tired of it. For about a year I stayed single nursing the pain and betrayal. I couldn’t imagine that I was about to marry a lie. The fact that I had been lucky to know by a close cut should have comforted me but for some reason it just didn’t.
I couldn’t look at my sisters in the eye. My old close friend from my teen age, I had lost touch with him for slightly more than two years. I found it hard to get in touch with him again because I didn’t want it to seem like he was my last resort whenever I landed myself in shit. Not anymore.
The stress and denial sucked the life out of me. I started to drink, not heavily though. I just wanted to hang around the bar with people who just wanted to let loose like I did. People who wanted to forget their problems like I did.
There is one day I decided to hell with it, why wait for the perfect man to give my body to when there’s actually no perfect man? Or if there was any, they were perfect for other people but not me. I had had advances from men in the bar but I rejected them all because I loathed men. I still did but it just had to be with a man. I had to get myself more drank than usual to drown the hatred of men in me and accept at least one advance from whoever my tipsy eyes would approve.
The man turned out to be a very nice man. He treated me really nicely. I remember I loved the way he had a bald head and goatie beard.
The following morning while we were buried under the sheets of his bed after a hot morning ‘bedrock’ in his house we started talking. Can you imagine he started by joking about how drunk I was the previous night? Too drunk that immediately he approached me, the first thing I said to him instead of replying to his greetings was “I’m drunk so please use a CD when we get to it. Promise?” He said he wasn’t even approaching me for a shag but since I said that, he was also not the type of man who would say no. “Desperation and promiscuity my foot!” He said.
He then turned and looked at me and said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking. How come you’re a virgin?” I started shedding tears and I just couldn’t stop.”
Maybe nine or more rounds like those with like four of them being with the bald guy with a goatie beard saw her old friend show up in her life again. Like an angel sent to save her from the bottomless abyss of heartbreak that she was falling deeper into everyday and after every bed.”
“Is this the part you finally tell me and my readers his name, Njambi?”
“Oh yes. Proudly. His name is Shawn. He came to the bar I went to and sat next to me as if he knew where exactly to find me. He asked, “How many more men before you catch a disease that cannot be treated by a gynaecologist, Njambi?”
“Shawn how did you find me?”
“It’s not as if you were hiding, is it?”
He said he wasn’t sure whether I’d appreciate having him back to my circle but he took the risk anyway. Especially because he felt I needed a soul that understood me pretty well to just be around. Just one person who could by pass the walls she had built around her.
We talked for the whole night till 4am just at the bar counter and by the time we decided to leave, l realised I hadn’t touched my drink ever since he sat next to me. I didn’t cry when I talked to him even though we talked the things that had scarred me. I don’t know, I just felt strong around him. He made me feel strong.
Every other man who sat on the same seat he did in the bar was after the crack on my soul just so that they may fulfill their lusts on me. I don’t judge them though. But Shawn? He came to seal it. Like the friend he has always been.
One day after like four months and after I got my job back, I woke up one Sunday morning earlier than usual. Sundays were my days to sleep in. Today when I look back, I have reasons to believe it was God who woke me up.
Mjango believe it or not, after I woke up I felt alive. Like I had just resurrected from a dead past. I don’t know how but my mind started to replay everything in an aerial view. I realised that I had made bad decisions for the better part of my adult life. I had let bitterness drive me. I had sought for a conventional but very ineffective way to heal my broken heart. I had locked out the one and as a result, two people out of my life that had proven to care and love me more than I ever realised and appreciated. This was Shawn and his God.
It was not coincidental that Shawn would show up next to me in the bar on the day I had decided I would drink and drive. I think he realised that I had driven to the bar but kept quiet about it. Instead, he asked whether he could go get me a jacket from my car and after he came back, he didn’t hand me back the keys.
I felt a deep desire to know this God He has held on to for years. I wanted a guided life like that. Because it seemed like all I did on my own was to lead myself to irremediable situations.
And so I texted him and told him not to leave me behind when he is going to church. Although I made him run late – he has never been late for a service, he came and picked me up.
Two years later, in fact our anniversary coming soon – I said yes to my best friend. I have never regretted ever since. This time all I can say is I let God do the examining for me.”
“I feel like clapping my hands Njambi. Perhaps even clap back my tears.”
“Aw Mjango. Shall I get you a wet wipe?” She said and laughed.
“Ah you just ruined the moment. Anyway, ‘All men are dogs.’ That has been the basis of my series and the bullet in the mouths of ladies today – unafraid to fire at will into open air. What do you say?”
She thought for a moment, “Men are two things: what you choose and what you say they are. If you don’t involve God in your choosing, all you’ll keep choosing are dogs. Because love is a choice. And if you keep professing that they are dogs, then words still have power, remember? So they surely will always be dogs in your eyes.”
“This is a good time to bring in the ‘Let them that have ears hear.’ It was a pleasure Njambi.”
“Likewise Mjango.”
We stand to leave but then, “Wait, sorry. One last question.”
“Okay sure. Should I sit?”
“No it’s a quick one. Drawing from the part you talked about with the first guy you rolled with from the bar, you lost your virginity to? To him?”
“Yes. To him.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I did. But I forgave myself. And I believe God forgave me as well.”
I nod, step aside from the table and ask, “And when was that?”
“Valentine’s Day, 2015.”
I looked at the window. The pigeon turned its head and flew away. It flew to heaven, maybe.

End!

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