They said it was the biggest mall in East Africa. Some said in East and Central Africa. So who is right? You think about that for a while. And the kind of things that you think about nowadays. Your thoughts have become too frivolous of late. But yet again, what are you supposed to think about?
You want to think about them. The eight year old prostitutes in Kibera? There was a time you would have cried about hearing such kind of a thing. It would have broken your heart into pieces. You would try to avoid thinking about their small vaginas unsuccessfully. Or their doll like little bodies beneath a smelly grunting being. And your head would hurt. Your soul would be crushed. You would pray about them. That father sends a saviour for them. That’s because you are not old enough to go save them yourself. But you would promise yourself that only a few more years and then you would save those wrenched souls.
But that was before you adulted. And things stopped being white and black. By the time an eight year old is a prostitute already, surely, they had a choice, right? I mean how else do they know they are supposed to be paid? Plus by the time they are regular workers in their chosen field, their vagina must be used to it, no? They could have chosen to be beggars like other kids or thieves. They chose to sell their bodies. And to you, the only thing off with all these ,is that they are under-age. Kids shouldn’t work. But maybe you are not sympathetic enough. Or maybe you have become heartless.
You wonder what Jesus would have said or done. But then again, for a rotten country like yours, you will need many Jesuses to be healed of what ails you. But he said his father is strong. Strong enough to fight for the poor, for the widows, for the fatherless. In your society, everyone needs some form of saving from something. And more importantly, some saving from each other.
You want to pray to his father. But of late you have been having too many questions concerning His mode of operations. The manual he calls His word is full of crimes against humanity. Christians call them miracles. And you wonder besides the new testament, is there anything that qualified as a miracle if it didn’t include the deaths of thousands of men? And if He would come here , how sure are we , that we won’t be the people drowned in the red sea or in our case, the Indian ocean?
How do Christians differentiate on who to worship? The God who saved three spies plus Rahab and not the one who buried a whole city besides one woman’s family? The God who made a way in the sea, and not the one who buried a whole nation’s army in sea? The God who with everywhere his people settled, the nations around them suffered as a result?
They will say you are losing faith. They will tell you to pray about it. They will say its okay to ask questions. To doubt. And how do you know all this before even asking? Because in other instances , you are usually the one giving the answers.
So see, its easier worrying about petty things. Like, will your brother remember the beatings he gets right now? You remember some things from age 7. So he might. Or he might not. Especially if he continues being as mischievous as he is right now. You wonder about that professor’s suits. If only he could get them tightened just a little bit. Then he would look twenty years younger. And looking younger is a good thing, right?
Your head is pounding. You need a holiday from life. You need a break. From yourself. You want to cry. Its like this immense craving you have been having for Korean chilli chicken with honey. But you can’t afford any. The chicken or the crying. The chicken requires some good money. And of late, you and money don’t get along well. And crying will make you feel pity for yourself. It will make you want to make things better. And that requires effort. It requires time. It takes money. And you just can’t afford that luxury of making yourself feel better after a sobbing session that will leave you wrenched than before.
And so you look for easy distractions. For petty things to laugh at. For people to diss. For memes that will crack your ribs for a second. And its in the middle of that ,that you find him.Amu-uze Emmanuel. You don’t read poems. And you read his. A poem about incest surely deserves attention, right? Especially written by a man. And so you stalk him. And realize that he is the kind of a writer that you read while you are in this place. In this place where nothing moves you. And you are glad you found him. Amidst all those happy people digesting on Chimamanda’s person as if reading her work is not enough. Do they have to follow her every move, breathe or fart? They will say you are a hater. Now that they are lovers, how many days have been added to their lives?
Talking of lives. You remember the boy you saw today. And the mother who is yet to finish campus. So she must have gotten him as a first year. And you salute her. Because in first year, probability is that you would have aborted had you become pregnant. They said you shouldn’t say such kind of things loudly. But they weren’t listening when you told them that something is wrong with the contraceptive education in our country. People don’t know enough about those things.
Plus the church prefers more babies without fathers than young unmarried people with full knowledge on contraceptives. But again, why are you again worrying about people? Why are you even judging them? By the time they got pregnant, surely unless it was rape, they knew the risks involved , right? So why did you naturally assume they got pregnant unwillingly?
And see, its safer worrying about the size of malls than whether babies were wanted or not. Its easier laughing at makanga jokes than thinking about our education system going to the dogs. Which it is by the way. Or about august elections. Thoughts about the Laikipia situation will only make you wonder how you can help the Maasai people. And if you can’t afford to help yourself, how will you even help others?
So focus on being shady. On being petty. Look for like-minded petty shady haters. Like the lady who was roasted for admitting that she didn’t like Mercy Masika’s voice. Like that other lady’s post. The one who said that she finds book lovers who claim they can’t read soft copy books pretentious. You would gladly read a good book from a bill board or television or a tree or someone’s face. Is it the pages or the book’s contents they want?Don’t forget to diss relationships. Or rather those in the bad ones. And as you have observed, those are the majority. They said single people love giving relationship advice. And you wonder, how do they expect someone tolerating their own bullshit from their partner to be objective about someone else’s ? You will give that unsolicited and unappreciated advice. Afterall, you haven’t been wrong so far. And as usual, they never listen to you.
Again, is it the biggest mall in East Africa only or in East and Central Africa?
Mwende Kyalo 