You wear me down for months only for you to be processed overseas.
I love you like Cocoa,
Deep, dark, bitter and warm…a toast here, broken back there…sweat here, hopes there…everything finds its way to you…to us…
I love you like Cocoa,
You need a sweetener to go down my throat,
So, I’ll mix you with honey,
Stir up some sweet trouble and gulp you…
I love you like Cocoa,
Dark, rich…glowing, the kind that makes the sun shimmer in remembrance of your glory.
I love you like Cocoa,
For whereas others strive to breathe under water, I drown…I let go of every fear, doubt, malice, anguish, anxiety, anger…and my hands break through the strong waves, upright…so you’ll see me and know that I’m here, not by a show of hand…but a show of hands…
I love you like Cocoa…drowning, rich, dark, strong, unforgettable.
I smile at how easy it is for you to liken me to seasons.
You smile, and it’s the best look you’ve had this year.
“Love, you are like Fall, you come once in a year and everyone looks forward to you, to seeing you, to being around you, because you radiate such light and love, I am jealous. How do you give your time to everyone and still have some left for yourself? Sometimes, well…most times, I feel like you slip through my fingers and settle right on my skin so I go everywhere with you…”
“You’re so cheesy…” I say and shrug. You are miles away from me.
Your voice is the home I know and now…now I miss home.
I tell you all about my travel experience and you laugh…you wish you were there to see my face and make fun of me, but you’re not…so we laugh some more.
“Hey, I’m not cheesy, you just make me say things that I never would.”
“I thought about you today Love,” you say…and I sit up on the bed. It is raining outside.
I have no plans of leaving neither this bed nor the house. So I ask, “really? how come?”
You laugh.
It’s always the laugh that gets me Stardust. You clear your throat and I hold onto the phone, pushing it as close to my ear as possible so that your breathing is one with mine.
“I was visiting a flower shop today, working on some financial plans for a client and I stepped into his greenhouse and there were petals on the ground, many colors, different petals I think, red, yellow, pink, some even brown and as I followed him to the back where his office was located all I could think about was you.”
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“You saw petals on the ground in some greenhouse and thought of me?”
“Oh, you are milking this…I miss you.”
“You are deflecting.”
“No, I am measuring my words Love, with you, the less I say the better…why is it that I still say so much while you only ask questions?”
“Do I?”
“See! That’s what I’m talking about…right there, look, I miss you and this climate change drama is not helping, these heavy rains and stuff! Being here reminds me of you Love, guess, you bloom even when it seems like you shouldn’t and you don’t mind shedding a few petals so you can make the ground a beautiful place for those who come your way, heaven knows I’m one lucky pig!”
I smile and I know you do too because you laugh, and there’s a long pause…before you say “take care of yourself Love, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Every kingdom had a fool, someone to lift up the spirits of royalty, every kingdom except Enzi.
Enzi was the kingdom that bordered the great lake and it was surrounded by two kingdoms. Yajayo to the hand side of eating and Kiko to the side of curses. There were many more kingdoms however it is these two that come to mind when I am speaking to you.
Now, inasmuch as they did not have a fool, they did better, they had Chronicler.
I will try my very best to explain to you what role the Chronicler played, give a moment, let me light up these dry leaves and settle in my seat. It is dusk and the one I am waiting for is yet to announce her presence. I fear these times.
Call me Zuri, I am the only living Chronicler. In Enzi this position was only to be filled by women. As far as I can remember, my Great Grandmother was the first Chronicler and after that, she trained her daughter, who went on to train her daughter and in turn I was trained. Chroniclers never died in Enzi. They would instead accompany the King to the afterlife if it so happened that the ruler died before them.
As I speak to you, King Lua has been dead for three moons now. On the fifth moon, my people will bury me beside him covering me with soil as I chant praises of the dead king. It is the way of our people, taking and giving life as they please unaware of the wishes of our deity- Meichi.
Chroniclers are also the ones who are aware of the history of our people and having heard all the tales of Meichi and our people, I am yet to learn of when this deity ordered that Chroniclers be sent to the afterlife together with their King.
The ones that make you smile, that make you say “I’m fine,” when you are not.
I know a couple of things about you,
The kind of things I wish I never knew,
Like how you smile in between kisses,
Like how you cannot part with a cigarette, not even to share a puff with a stranger.
Like how you wish your Mother stayed a little longer, loved you a little harder,
Like how you see the world in numbers, and yes, you can multiply complex numbers without using a calculator.
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I know a couple of things about you,
The kind of things we wish the world never knew,
Like how many times you’ve wounded me,
Like how easy it is for you to find warmth in another, yet your heart beats only for me…
An addiction for the feminine body is what you called it,
Stardust, how easy it is for you to self-destruct, my love.
I know a couple of things about you,
The kind of things that only my soul can speak of, a galaxy of its own, an ember unknown.
I know a couple of things about you Stardust and I won’t wait for my being to define it, so I’ll leave this here…another breadcrumb which I hope you’ll nibble on as you make your way home.
“What should I get you this Christmas?” you ask, and in between puffs, I compose myself. I collect my thoughts and sort them out as one would rice.
Lately, I seem to stumble upon my words, as I gaze into your eyes.
It must be the haircut.
Or is it that you seem vibrant, radiating an aura of sheer joy…or content, I don’t know. I never know how long your bliss lasts. I’ve never cared much about prolonging them.
“Get me whatever you decide upon, I’m not so big on Christmas,” and I lie back, my eyes roaming the ceiling as you puff your thoughts away…how is it that you take a long drag when you are afraid of speaking your mind? I keep my eyes on you and you smile.
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“You have a certain power over me and you act like you don’t know you do, and that smile right there, that one…where your right cheek bulges and your eyes twinkle, it’s the best look you can ever wear.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t know, maybe I do, but sometimes like right before you looked my way I was thinking, why is it that hearts can break in more than one way yet they have to heal in the same way?”
“And…”
“You know what I am talking about Love, you may smile now, laugh now, or better yet, talk to me now, yet there are times when a slice of pain brushes your heart and I get a glimpse of it in your eyes, that stuff scares me. To know that I did that…is it worth it love, being here and now, back in my arms, is it worth it? Can I get you flowers for Christmas?”
I look into your eyes and instead of the black pool I always get engulfed in, I find myself thinking of yellow flowers and my head throbs…this is how I’ve learned to stay, apologies, moments where you’re remorseful and unlike you, I devour pain.
I let the hurt simmer and serve it chilled in words.
How is that we take one step forward and galaxies back, Stardust, did you know that a cage is still a cage, it matters not whether it’s in gentle hands or not.
I look at you and to stop the throbbing in my head say, “I want you to hold my hand this Christmas…” you smile and before I know it, I am in your arms, right where I should have been before you started all this talk of Christmas.
I don’t know what to make of these thoughts, that stir my mind, set it ablaze you’d say.
For a soul so unknown, you love fire, like the air you breathe.
It will be ten o’clock in fifty-eight minutes.
I’ve had a cup of tea for supper and you are probably watching National Geographic, stretched out like a big cat on that brown couch you have.
You’ve had a cigarette for supper, but you will fix yourself something to eat, because you know how to whip up a meal when you’re motivated, and nothing motivates you like hunger.
I keep talking to myself, my words bounce back to me, these four walls know more about my emotions than I do.
So, I’ll write you another letter before I go to bed tonight.
And it will be something like this, “Dear Stardust…silence.”
“Have you ever felt scared while on a boat on the lake?” you ask.
It is four o’clock in the evening. I am in bed, trying to regain my composure from the nap I was taking. How is it that you still have my phone number?
How is it that even when I have been miles away from you I can tell exactly what it is that you are doing?
So, I stretch out on the bed, sit up- look at my hair that’s half undone…braids on the right side neatly done, on the left, a chunk of hair to be braided by dawn.
I do not wish to talk Stardust.
I do not wish to welcome or relish the silence we create between your questions and my answers.
It’s been happening…and my mind wanders even as you hold, waiting for a response.
I do not know what scares me Stardust…not anymore.
You sigh, let out another easy laugh and say “I feel like I am drowning every time I think about you. Do not immortalize me Love, I do not deserve it, have you ever wondered how many kids we’d have by now? I mean, if I wasn’t such a jerk, we would have two…maybe a girl who looks like you, and loves me more or a boy, who walked like me…I don’t know, these post on facebook of parents congratulating their toddlers on graduating just got to me. What’s so epic about graduating from kindergarten? It sucks that parents pay thousands to get their kids a good foundation and then they go to public school and suddenly the parents can’t even fork up motivation fee for the teachers, saying that the government offers free primary education, how messed up is that?”
You light a cigarette…I can feel it, miles away.
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I look at the time, walk to the next room to turn on the kettle. A cup of tea could do me good, ease my nerves…and I want to cry Stardust. You don’t know this because you talk about your dreams and I sit on the floor hoping the cold would numb my sorrows.
I want to hold it all in Stardust, because you have turned me into your Therapist, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like I am drowning, so who will save me Stardust when I cannot even save myself from your memories?
nilichoandika 