Overview

One time he had brought some Mutura and bananas to our riverside date and told me that their farm was
approximately ten acres and that his dad had showed him the parcel he would inherit. All I heard was “I
am financially stable and ready to start a family”. My delusions as a woman are deep rooted.

Travel back with me to early adulthood, back when I filled my mother’s tiny two bedroomed house seats with young boys visiting in the name of sharing assignments... (I know, tale as old as time) Those days when church went on a bit longer for "youth meetings". When life and love was innocence.  

There was one boy in our village who had caught my attention. Karaya, nicknamed Kalong.  What a dreamy name right? It means Long.  Let your imagination run free. Still does things to my heart when I remember him. I might name one of my children after him, cross my fingers and hope they turn out half a character as he was. He had a way with words. Words that made my ears hot, blood boil.  “huyu kijana atakuharibia maisha” (this boy will destroy your life), mum would yell at me when I came home late.  She knew I had been with Kalong because ours was a small village and mothers had seemingly recruited each other to spy on their children. So even when mum told me Mama Maish had seen me standing by the roadside drawing vision boards on the ground with my feet I wasn’t surprised. I had seen her too, but was only focused on imagining marriage and ten children with Karaya, to hear her shout over his shoulder “Ciku, I am going to tell your mother I saw you”. Pshh, as if that would stop me! Though that’s not what was on my mind later that evening when my mother’s cooking stick landed painfully on my rounded bottom severally until it broke. That didn’t stop us.  I would have taken a military type punishment for that boy. 

What was special about Kalong was not only the fact that he had the patience to take me on extended walks down a road we had been countless times, “accidentally” brushing his hand against mine like in the movies or carrying me on his back to jump over puddles of water and streams…. yes, once upon a time I was lightweight get over it. Never mind that on these supposed walks he was also minding his father’s livestock grazing along the road. Nor was it that he had found a special spot down the riverside, when the cattle were quenching their thirst we would sit on the rocks our toes slightly dipped in, eating wild berries and Patco (Sweets), staring silently into the water when we had nothing to say, which was rare but cherished. In those silent moments if felt as though he understood me.  He would often surprise me with a pink rose. He sayd a wild bush grew behind his father’s house. Kalongs special power was his art of speech.  He wooed me in our mother tongue. “gwitu twi na mburi na ng’ombe ta igana uguo” (we own about a hundred cattle and sheep), which I interpreted as I am ready to marry you, dowry is ready, let’s go now!  One time he had brought some Mutura and bananas to our riverside date and told me that their farm was approximately ten acres and that his dad had showed him the parcel he would inherit. All I heard was “I am financially stable and ready to start a family”. My delusions as a woman are deep rooted.

Fast forward several years later, Kalong and I lost touch. Rumour he is married with two boys. Those could have been our children. Over the years I have been on a couple of dates, some are nothing to write home about, others are just ridiculous. Two things have stood out. One, nobody has measured up to Kalongs skilfulness, two, what the hell is a friendzone?  Dude!

If am gravitating towards you, making effort to apply some lipstick, smile and gel down my baby hairs then I like you.  Dating for me has been like being a contestant in a night time game show or dress rehearsals for a coveted job.  After gruelling meetings consisting of answering questions like, where do you see yourself in ten years, do you think you can bear children, can we go to my house tonight? No, I can’t go to your house tonight, I don’t know you! Take me to Uhuru park, sit on a blanket on the soft grass and eat some peanuts and bananas, lets us talk about your and how many cows your father has. Let us watch our love blossom and bloom like a rose flower. Did you even know I like roses? So, before I can answer you whether I will bear your heirs, maybe bother to bring me one, or a bunch. Let us go to your favourite Matura joint, order for my the one for 20shillings. Oh, no! you don’t eat Mutura!? I am sorry, we have no future together.

Am sorry I did not mean that, come back (weep). I will chapati and mango juice as many times as it takes. I however cannot promise that when am pregnant with your heirs I will not crave Mutura at midnight. All I wanted was a rose flower.

The rollercoaster that is my life… “boohoo” says my inner self. “you know roses bloom and die, right?”.

WRITER: Ciku