A soft breeze blows with a dash of humidity and the taste of heavy dried up clay soil. Its so hot!!yet its merely 7:30 in the morning. The sun hasn’t fully freed the moon of it’s burden yet. There are two sounds being picked out, one is the clunking of metal and the other is the in sync Inhales and exhales that surround the enclosed space.

Why is it shaking so vigorously ?yet at the same time accompanied by a soft voice echoing from a distance . What’s the voice saying?? To whom are those words directed to?? I think its a woman’s voice ,sounds responsible and still figuring out life while coming to terms with its “unfairity”. It Gets louder with an increase in pitch and urgency  being noted.

Ericcc! Ericcc!

Amka tumefika..

Amka tushuke..

Eric amka!!

Ooh yeah that’s the voice of my mother, and Eric is my name. I look around the space we are in, then i glance outside at the big plateau facing me, daring me to hold it, so i stretch out my arm but only end up brushing it as i am swayed to the side then back again. My ears open up and its not as quiet as i thought, women are speaking behind me, others are laughing, some are making plans.(its Sunday by the way) all this is being done in a language i haven’t fully grasped.

I was swayed and floated then realized that the “matatu”/bus was departing and i was holding my mother’s hand. She looks so huge from where am standing, i can only lookup and see the bottom of her chin. She looks down at me and ask me a question, she always asks this question, do all mothers asks this question??

Are you okay my baby??

I shake my head in agreement. Its time to walk now. I throw some quick glances around this small town covered in red soil and countable brick buildings. I get some stares back, they are intrigue stares.

Why is he dressed like that?

Those clothes must be expensive?

I see that woman is back this year?

Does he think he is better than us?

dissecting the stares.

I finally notice this woman holding my hand has a big bag or her back, the other hand is also occupied by some shopping, and here i am almost opening my mouth to say i don’t wanna walk anymore after just 50meters. (what a shame)

Where are we going ??

Forward of course.

To be continued….

“spinning in circles, living my life without rehearsal for if i die today was i really worthy?? should this be my last breath am blessed it was purposeful .”

Why do we care what others think of us?? As i was lounging on my couch scrolling through my YouTube timeline i found an intriguing story. It may not be as compelling as a man who has the biggest penis, or a lady with the longest fingernails, but it was captivating at the least.

A lady of 24yr was happily married to a 67yr old man. What do you think of that??? Astonishing right?! There has to be an ulterior motive at play, right?? The man wasn’t wealthy, he was just your normal retiree eating his pension awaiting his demise. The white couple are featured on the news not because of their love but because they need to tell society why this is happening, most specifically the lady. They have a new born baby together. #manpower

As i was watching the story, i asked myself why i cared what she said?? I don’t know her, or do you?? And what business what is it of mine?? And more specifically why were the comments so full of individuals trying to dissect her words??

She explained how she loved the man and wanted to make a life with him. The man didn’t say much, just that he had finally found someone whom they clicked with. A 67 year old “clicking” with a 24yr old !! Bogus!!!!

It dawned on me that age is not maturity , for the longer you live the more experienced you become, but does the experience count really? Times change, society changes everyday, so your experience wont be of help to the next generation for your times are different… So at the end we are all the same age, just depends on the influence society has on you.. Don’t be a slave!! Or so i should say.

I say live your life, for the statement i started with is what you will ask yourself before you approach your death bed. And finally;

2 bulls sit atop of a hill with cows grazing at the bottom, the young bull says “lets run down and fuck one”

the older wiser bull with years of experience says”no! Lets fuck them all”

Point being, you can never fuck em all, choose that one cow and fuck it good ..

Make your own decisions don’t let the wise define your role in life.

Have you ever Followed something So intensely till the corner of your eye couldn’t keep up?? ? And this is not like staring at a big butt or the back of that BMW M5. It’s something you’ll see and obsess over on how it would be like just having it. I was 16yrs when i first had this experience back in 2009 when fashion was taking a turn and we were healing as a nation from the atrocities of the elections years before.

A reflection on the window but i saw her, yes her!! She was dark curvy and the new body shape at the time, yes she was thick, I’ve never fallen so hard(neither did i know what love is) ,but i knew she was out of my league so i made the motion and moved on.

Fast forward two years on, August the 8th a day after my 18th birthday ,i saw her again and the surprising factor is , my mother introduced us(how many can say that) and that was the inception of our relationship , with a simple hand shake of approval you’d think i was uhuru and she raila.

The road was ruff, But the first two years were a breeze, calm, fruitful and full of joy. The problems started on end Of the second year when i made new friends and they came to like each, so my time with “fyn gal” had been cut by half, we didn’t see each other for weeks for she was hanging out with my friends, jealousy kicked in but what could i do??

she had always been fragile, can’t say i wasn’t joyous that she was sick for she came back to me. For a few months i had to spend a lot of money getting her treatment to heal her illness . finally she was okay not 100% but it was enough , now the mood swings kicked in, one day she would go all blue on me, the next she would be orange. I had to schedule tasks for she would get headaches if i gave her to much to do .

Now as our 7 year anniversary is closely approaching, i wanted to let her know how much i value her and love her,she even forgave me when i dated a light skin girl for a while, for better for worse.

So this is for my dark, thick, curvy, exceptional and loyal girl dell inspiron ( my cherished laptop .)

Ps. The lights skin is my mac book pro

“Sorry about the mess, please do make yourself comfortable. Let me tidy up just to make it a little more presentable”.

” the walls , plastered with African art on all the corners,  you might think he is one of those black american fellows who think “wakanda” is real and the rest of Africa is full of semi nude women in grass thatched houses . Black and white leather sits with a red handwoven carpet and a clear glass coffee table with a kind of velvet flower engraved on it. Its a living room full of uncoordinated colour. He really is a single guy, evidence is the big 52inch slim Samsung tv connected to a Sony home theatre system with a PlayStation as visible as the red carpet.

“Can i get you anything, water, juice, tea?, ”

“just a glass of water would be fine”

He is a 30 year old of medium height with attractive facial features and a small goatee which Accentuates his Chick bones , with neat long hair(afro style) shaved at the sides.

We just sit there without uttering a word to each other in dead silence , is he shy? No he is not, terrible with people? Yes ,but He’s always Seemed interesting to me as a guy who bore his loneliness on his face, his clear brown eyes gave out that “save me” statement whenever i stared at them, he lived in a generation that believed if something doesn’t work out, just cut it, no baggage , “i wanna be free “. He lost contact with the outside world and now doesn’t know how to communicate at an intimate level. what a boring existence !, no friends no girlfriend, only the PlayStation and an active wifi connection.

Who am i? Sorry i didn’t introduce myself. My name is Alvin, i am the delusion that keeps him occupied, his name is Alvin, we are one and the same… I am the man in the mirror .

The  fictitious existence…

“Depression is real, patience and acceptance are a major part of life.

Don’t allow depression to get you while you are alone ….”

According to google , “a celebration is a social gathering or enjoyable activity held to celebrate something.”

Now is it just me or is the word not defined well?? It uses its own word to define it’s self.

So with that “swervy” logic, I’d say that; if the word cant define itself, how are we supposed to know how to act upon it.

Over 100 years ago in 1918 — on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month The first world war ended and how glorious was it. The scenery, the faces of men from the war kissing and crying with their wives and loved ones, the children running around the streets joyous and care free ,with a plastic/metallic fighter plane in their hands. Germany the villains of the war, had formally surrendered n CELEBRATIONS broke out.

Fast forward to 2019 , our year, the new century which is measly 19yrs old. What did we get to learn from history??? I’d say, that the best celebration is when another person is suffering deeply, that’s the time its the sweetest, for the Germans were not celebrating but vengeful, the mothers who lost their sons and wives who lost their husbands. So why was it a party??

Human being are negative people or so i believe. Watching the news and a lovely white woman with brown hair, those foreign blue eyes, a small cute mouth with maroon lipstick on and dark purple T-shirt was shouting at the top of her lungs “lets embrace love , love can cure violence, lets stop the unnecessary bloodshed” .i was blown away. How could she shout out loud something that we as Africans and most black men cannot say in front of a small group of 3 people. I celebrate that woman, not because she made sense (which she didn’t) but her passion,confidence and dedication to go out there and just shout out words that cannot solve a thing with such conviction.

I came to the realization that love is the cause of the wars and the bloodshed.. Every story about wealth started of with intention of making ends meet for the family. Then protection of the family which gets wrapped up with “your family stays on this piece of land, which is in this country, so to protect your family you must protect this land but first equivalent it to the love of your family so that they become one” and then after the war the side that wins, HOLDS A CELEBRATION to rejoice in the killing of another’s family, for my love was greater than yours…….

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton