In This Homestretch
There wasn’t sleep on me today. Yester night I slept quite early, at around 8. To a person who is used to sleep at mid-night, sleeping at 8pm can be a gross nightmare. Let’s face it, if I sleep early before my time, there are two outcomes; waking up in the middle of the night or waking after my 6 hours of sleep are through. The case yester night was similar. I woke up at 11pm.
First, I don’t feel like going to bed after this. So what do I do? I jump into a ‘mfuto’ and go down stairs to the TV room. Football fanatics are cheering all over the hostel. Having nothing productive to engage in, I find myself seated right in the middle of some cold metal seats, among other guys.
There is a fifa confederation cup game between Germany and Mexico. Not that we’re haters, but everyone seems to be in support of Mexico… I bet Donald Trump wouldn’t. He would be seated in the Oval office and talking to his proxies, “just wait and see how these drug dealers get trashed.” When Germany scores, he would be “beat them, show them that drugs are not compatible with football. Be merciless. Cane them on my behalf.”
What angers me when I watch this game is one, it is in the last minutes. I wonder where I am gonna go after the game is done and sleep is having a vacation in some beach in the Bahamas. The game ends so quickly, Germany having utterly defeated Mexico 4 goals to 1 goal.
In any match, when you lose, there is a sudden silence that overwhelms people. Call it betrayal, or being let down. All you want is to sleep and erase this harrowing memories. But I can’t sleep. I look at my phone, there is a missed call and a text from Mercy. All these had come at around half past 8, when I was fast asleep.
Courting sleep plays hard to get. I browse through the interwebs for long. I turn, try to sleep, sleep evades, I go back to the phone, I get bored, back to sleep, sleep runs away, I do some kegel exercises, try some funny work outs to tire me up, but still can’t sleep.
My mind wanders off to the activities of the previous day. It is not easy doing so without girls popping up often. Especially Mercy. Her text lingers in my head. “Tokea and say hi.”
Pages and pages of memories flip, but nothing good enough to send me away on a sleep trip. At around 2am, I clutch to loose strings of sleep and slumber with time. Not until Vincent’s phone buzzes loudly waking me up again. Looking at the phone, it is damn 4am. 4 am damn it! I’ve never gotten irritated as I was that morning.
So that you know, I am the kind of person who wakes up at the slightest distraction. Many times, I prefer sleeping in sound proof rooms or places where there is a likelihood of being able to mitigate distractions. For another one hour, sleep literary abandons me and I have to implore it to come. With closed eyes, I plead, “Please come back baby, just come back. I really need you right now, I’ve never been so horny for you like now. Don’t leave me high and dry with these hard ons.” Did it ever hear? I begged for a full hour, “I won’t ever break your heart if you come back. Aki I promise. I swear on my dead mother’s grave.”
Diary of a lost Casanova
KISSING THE ASS
I wake up late. 6. 25 Am. My eyelids are intensely heavy. Trying to open them brings such immense pain that I curse a lot. This pain doesn’t leave. I slouch and try to pray that my day goes on well. My head is experiencing terrible headache and it blasts even on my face. Forcing myself to get up, I take a look at the mirror, very red eyes, an indicator that I didn’t sleep well enough.
Maybe the shower can change this rhetoric, I say to myself and check into a shower. The damage remains. I do some laundry, brush my teeth, don a black polo T-shirt, button it to the neck, a milky trouser, brown shoes and head to class. I top it up with somewhat dark goggles. The ones that can be worn even in darkness. I bet I look fine, my beard is neatly made up and my hair combed backward in a stylish manner (hope Grace and Onyi my hairdressers down at Movits won’t come across this).
Vincent sleeps till late. I leave without him. As days go by, our friendship grow stronger. On my way, I meet Mercy and a friend. I greet them and we head to the mess. Mercy gets mad at me for not getting to be with her the previous night. I tell her I shall compensate by spending time with her in the evening.
Day 5, Thursday:
Bidding, online security and mode of payment.
Today Ruth is not in her seat. An early riser? I still doubt. Maybe she slept late, or just had to waste time off applying makeup, or couldn’t get to match clothes easily. I take my seat and in my goggles, pretend that all is well. Fingers on the phone, mind asleep.
The previous day, we’d been taught on how to bid for work. So today we’re tackling online payment methods, safety and stuff. We’re taken through signing up for PayPal and Payoneer and how to link them to various platforms for billing as well as Mpesa.
In the afternoon, Faith Kitavi from #Googleskills4Africa takes us through digital marketing. This basically deals with being able to make online presence for yourself or your products. Faith is adorable and easy with us. We do love her.
THE LAST SWIG
After classes, I hit the field. There is not much going on today. Seems like I am getting used to this shit now. I do 10 strong rounds in fast pace. My chest burns. I feel like there are these hot rays going through my chest and leaving unending embers that smother with time. This is a sign that I need to do more to beat the chest pains.
Some two guys join me and we work out together. One of them plays rugby. We lift some heavy tires and sprint alternatively. Ever felt your heart is trying to rip through your heart and escape? That is what I feel like. The tires in fact are so heavy that my hand muscles burn like hell.
The other guy gets me talking when the one for rugby leaves. He tells me he resides in Githurai and he runs all the way home. Well, I accept blindly. There is this point we do press ups, we do one, we shake hands, and so on. 20 moving forward, he tires and leaves me pressing on the ground like a machismo.
I hardly get to know names of people, or I don’t keep memories of names. He tells me that he survives through academic writing. From a writer’s experience, he throws pro tips to me, which of course are so basic for me because I know shit, and he, doesn’t.
The evening breeze keeps blowing more swiftly. Goose pimples run all through his body. Shivers. Continued shivers. I pity him but tell him to keep strong. The key to online writing is consistency, he informs me.
Before my work outs, I called Mercy. She told me she is at Kahawa Sukari. I am baffled because I fail to understand when she decided to cancel our date. When I discover that she is at her cousin’s, I let her off the hook. Family comes first you know. Family is everything. When it is family, we forgive what we kill others for.
My evening begins desolately. Taking off while jogging, I shower back at the hostel and go for supper.
This is my last supper at KU and I need to eat meat. I devour every piece.
I wrote this piece twice. In the morning and late night. Writing on a daily basis while juggling with other balls of life requires sacrifice. Finding time is a fortune and at times, juices are not flowing. You become a cliché. At times, you have to trash a number of important activities to get something written.
Sleep well lovely people.
Signed with love,
Mzangila Empire 2017.