A Return to Love

The journey to awareness is like mist, sometimes it clears up, sometimes it thickens into a fog. Most people desire to be happy in life. When you ask what happiness is to them, some can describe it as the feeling they get when things work in their favor, others see it wrapped up in a box of chocolate. Some, like my friend, Bill, find happiness in standing beside a maize vendor waiting for a roasted cob of maize after it’s rained. But, is happiness a state? If so, is it constant? If it’s not constant then what happens when we cannot feel it or embrace it?

It is because of this that I experienced the foggy part of awareness. I thought I had everything figured out in a relationship so much so that I could tell when he was about to ask me something about the English Premier League standings, or just how my day was. His laugh was soft like a three month old baby’s chuckle, sometimes it sounded like carrots being grated or coconuts being grated. His scent was neither musk nor mild but lime. He hated lemons but loved the scent of lime. His colors were grey, sky blue or white. Black was too common and unbearable in this heat. His shoes had to be leather, black or brown but nothing else. His jeans dark blue and he could not stand skinny jeans. His hopes well, that is where I started to see him as ‘was’ instead of ‘is.’

But, love is _____________________________. I don’t know.

I cannot precisely define love because I’m in a fog and 75% of me does not want to leave here. It is like being hurt and playing the victim. A sweet relief to a selfish person like me, and I am enjoying this moment because very soon it will clear up and I will find myself crying and then changing my wardrobe and moving on and blah blah blah.

What is love? How much do I owe the people who love me, and why should I pay? How much do they owe me and why should they pay? What is happiness? Is it clocking into the internet everywhere you go?

At — drinking Iced Coffee 🙂

At —having lunch with — #bae #relationshipgoals #muchlove

Feeling —-at —- with—-

Always informing the internet and the world at large of your every move more than you call or text your own parents and spouses, a thrill for Private Investigators and Serial Killers…they simply sit and follow the breadcrumbs you leave for them online. Is that happiness? It is. It is not. I don’t know, but to end this game, I’ll say that happiness is relative.

So, I woke up at 3:18am to make sense of a dream I had, and then returned to sleep because it was too dark to think and I wanted to know why I kept calling some guy Triton and why I had twins! Twins! Cut me some slack! Worse off, why we lived under the sea! I can’t even swim…(Someone conjure up Sigmund Freud)

When I opened my eyes at six and checked my phone, I saw thirteen missed calls and thirteen text messages all from him, the first one asking what I could not answer, “How can you walk away just like that?”

Truth is, we were married before we thought we were in love. I was the ideal girlfriend who had his parents confidence and affection and it was all good for a while, but for the sake of drama- I walked away, not desiring his commitment or affection, but desiring my own.

I became us and forgot all about me.

I became the definition of him because wherever he went his friends and family expected to see me by his side. I was his right leg, he was my left. I became a couple and slowly forgot about my dreams and he let me sink. He let me do what I could to please him while denying myself and when I saw how selfish and inconsiderate that was- I left.

I am looking to return to love. My love.

She said, He said.

She said, “He is not good enough for you,” as she applied that red lipstick that she got from me. Signature or Charm Max? I cannot remember. She looked better with red lips.

She pulled out a soft tissue from her black purse and pressed her lips slightly on it, then applied gloss.

I did not know if it was a rating or a competition. Is he supposed to be good enough or right? Is he supposed to be handsome or perfect?

Is he supposed to be rated by her or by me and my family?

I thought about her and wondered how easy it was for her to push him out of my mind. We walked back to the restaurant together and there he was, waiting. She looked at him and smiled. He pulled out my chair and let me sit before continuing with a conversation, as though she was the ghost hovering above our heads.

He said, “I hope she has told you great stuff about me.”

She said, “You wish!” and then she got up, picked her purse and walked away.

He went after her.

I’m Done!

I’ll be your demon, guarding your doors so that no evil shall pass. I will stop all the girls from staring, with their teeth every time you walk into a room- and grip your hand so they know you seek no evil. But, I will be the angel hoping and praying that you cease to create room for evil by telling the truth.


(Photo Credits: Larisa Koshkina )

Such that when your phone lights up, you do not have to leave the room or talk in the bathroom or pretend that your boss needs you. Your boss does not send you messages via Whatsapp.

I will sit and smile and hope that when I ask, “are we good?” you will say, “I don’t know,” and it will be the truth. I cannot deny lust when it is before me. She smiles and you start day dreaming. She smells like roses and kisses you like Aphrodite. She is your night while I am your day, and you know…a man needs peace of mind. Sometimes, you have things that are so great in your life and you cannot figure out which one to stick with. When there are so many women to choose from, why not see what will become of it all, why not have fun?

So, I am the “wifey,” the one who is respectful and is loved by your parents and siblings. I am the one who knows how to cook your favorite serving of fried beef and ugali with sauteed sukuma wiki, and will add your can of Tusker just to top it off!

I am the one who knows what gift to get your friends and family and will write something sweet, you know just cause you need them to know you care.

I am the one who will ask you questions that your conscience has been drumming up on you so much so that it has gone mute, like, “what are your career plans?” and “are you looking to invest in that?” and “how was your day?”

I am the one who knows that there is more to radio than listening to Classic and Kiss 100, and will bore you to death by listening to BBC.

But, she is oxygen itself!

She knows what to say and when to say it! She knows when to order drinks and help pull out your wallet to pay the bill, and the taxi back to her place. She knows how handsome and loving you are, because she does not need to tell you this when you are sober, I mean, why be so serious? You only live once, right? And you nod, “yeah,” and sink in her…and at the back of your mind you say, “only for tonight.”

What you do not know is that to women, the phrase, “the world is a small village,” is not news! We knew it long before we knew that we are women.

One word, whispered to two ears, finds itself an audience of ten thousand, and whatever is gospel truth to four ears is the verdict!


(part two comes this Friday.)