Mike would be 32 today.

I just had my first downright unbothered customer service at KCB, and as I stepped out of that banking hall, I received a notification, a tweet from one of those astrology sites he might have subscribed to.



It’s the name he went by, but his real name still remains a mystery and I am certain had he graduated, all of us would have looked through that booklet and swore that he wasn’t listed. This happens in Kenya a lot, nicknames become real names and no one can escape the brand that comes with it.

What hurts is that for someone so cheerful, he would one day stop breathing and with his final bow, he never thought of saying goodbye. Who would?

When you are in pain, there’s nothing but pain, guess he understood that. He felt it.

So, his family laid him to rest…and unlike us, they felt the pain more than we could ever imagine, but even then, he was gone. He went to bed and never woke up. No one knew why, but his family knew how, and even as they spoke about it, his Old Man trembled…and he kept asking “Why couldn’t he talk to someone?” So, years went by and for a while I lived my life for what it was, until today.

It’s this never ending presence of “why” that has me asking questions that I may never get answers to, and years on, his cheerful presence is a reminder that bruises are always there and just because they aren’t visible, does not mean that they do not hurt.

Happy birthday Mike 🙂 ungekuwa tungeongea kuhusu samosa za Mama Rosie, ama Chipo Mayai pale Coast Dishes.


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