WARNING: STRONG LANGUAGE
The world we live in is a crazy fucked up place where anyone fed up with all the vitriol wishes they could pack up and move to the sun. But it’s still our world. And there is a lot happening.
Here at home, after the recently concluded elections, protests broke out in Kondele, Mathare and Kibera after the announcement of the presidential results (ironically, the opposition only objects to those results. They appear fine with the seats they won). Unfortunately, they took a turn for the ugly when police used live bullets on protesters and according to the Kenya National Human Rights Commission about 24 people have been left dead including a six month old baby. Fucked up, right?
Thankfully, Kenyans rallied together to help those afflicted and at the moment- IPOA and the deputy Inspector General have ordered investigations on police brutality to be carried out.
In the USA, white supremacists held a rally in Charlottesville. And after watching countless World War 2 documentaries, there was one universal truth anyone with a conscience and an IQ above -1 (in that order) could agree on. Nazis are evil. End of story. But tweeps are trying to lay blame on counter-protestors. Saying “both sides” are to blame. Because bacteria and antibiotics are the same, right? And the US president’s ambivalence to the issue is equally heartbreaking and nauseating. Fuck ups all around.
In Sierra Leone’s capital Freetown, a mudslide left over 300 people dead and 600 still missing. The President Ernest Bai Koroma, has called for urgent help in support of the thousands affected by the mudslide. A national emergency has been declared after the city suffered heavy flooding, thought to be the worst in Africa over the past twenty years.
It doesn’t end there. Every channel you turn to shows death and destruction. Worry and fear. Pain and suffering. And for a moment when I took it all in, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t function. Prayer wasn’t working. Music didn’t help either. I tried to read a novel to distract myself to no avail.
I tried to call Mama Pedestrian but she was unavailable. So was the case with Baba Pedestrian. But even he wouldn’t know how to calm down his grown ass woman of a daughter who was having a breakdown just from following the news. My BFFs were having issues of their own. I didn’t want to be a bother. And so I called the one person who always picks up my calls. After about 6 continuous missed calls. Mr. Pedestrian.
Mr. Pedestrian listened to my shrieks and whines and heavy sighs and silences. He inferred them all without needing the Mari Dictionary. And after a lengthy one-sided conversation in which I spoke gibberish- Mr. Pedestrian managed to calm me down. I’m not sure how. The best situation I can compare it to is when I calm my cat down by tapping a wooden surface with my nails or when I scratch his chin (this isn’t highly recommended as I get scratched and bitten before calm sets in).
Mr. Pedestrian also told me to think about the other side of the world. Like a cooler flip side of a pillow, there is also the good in the world. Especially my world. Even though half the times the problems in my world are mountain ranges made of ant hills made by ants in kindergarten. There is a lot I am grateful for. Blazing beacons of positivity and fortune that I occasionally turn a blind eye to when the darkness threatens to consume me. One of those beacons is I got another job. The other one of course is Mr. Pedestrian himself.
Why? Because exactly five days from now, he and I turn six. Whenever people find this out they become shocked. I am never sure why. One friend made it clear that he didn’t know any man could stand my personality for more than a few minutes. We promptly stopped being friends. Yes, I cut people off as soon as they get judgmental.
Others immediately ask for advice. How have you managed? What’s your secret? Do you have an open relationship? The answers to those questions respectively are, through a lot of work. I have no secrets and hell no.
But I’ll give a brief overview. For the ladies hoping to find a soul mate, maybe this will shed some light. To the people who asked me on Sarahah if I’m available, this should also shed some light. And for those who love stories to do with fluff and romance- go away. This isn’t for you.
Mr. Pedestrian and I met in May 2011 while in college. He claims he saw me first but I don’t believe him. The first conversation we ever had was where I called him a bad omen after a game of poker where I kept losing every time I stood next to him. In June, we exchanged phone numbers because I wanted to invite him to my 18th birthday party. This turned out to be a dud (but again, story for another day). After exchanging phone numbers, we would talk all day and through most of the night. Mind you, I was two timing two other guys at the time. Let’s call them Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber.
He and I became fast friends, calling each other for anything and everything. Whenever I saw something funny I would tell him. Whenever he saw something bizarre, he would tell me. I trusted him with nearly everything. He did the same. We loved each other before we even knew we were attracted to each other.
After I dropped Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber, I told him. He reacted the way every guy would. He didn’t react. I kept wondering how I would shoot my shot because the guy couldn’t pick up a hint if it came in a large bag marked HINT, PICK ME UP.
The opportunity presented itself when I was travelling to Kampala in August the same year. He kept me company through the day until it was time to leave. As we were about to part, I hugged him hard and kissed his neck. The shiver was very telling. While on the bus, I called him.
“Hi,” he answered. I could tell he was smiling.
“Did you want to kiss me?” I asked.
He paused, “Yes,” he answered.
“What stopped you?”
The conversation that followed would make a porn star blush.
Through the years we had our ups and downs. I once broke up with him because he refused to go to lunch with me. We made up after three days. He also dumped me because I got a tad- er- bitchy. That break-up lasted three weeks. We have ups and downs just like any other couples. The difference is, I’m upfront about anything. And I force him to be upfront too. We argue even more than Parliamentarians argue.
We try to foist dishes duty on the other one.
We take turns in taking out trash. He takes out the trash. We send each other the way African mums call you from the bedroom to pass them the remote next to their feet on the coffee table. We just mesh. I have no clue how we happened but I never question great fortune. I am not in the business of inspecting gift horses’ mouths inasmuch as I am paranoid like a dictator sensing he’s about to get overthrown.
But I love him with all that I am and I know the feeling is mutual. (Yes, I asked him to prove it).
Happy anniversary baby.
To help those affected by the protests in Kenya visit: Host Rescue KE