Its 00.11am on the 18sth of June 2021.
I am confused, literally out of my wits. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Such a good time to listen to 4 Non blondes but boo, I got no phone.
This day was supposed to be no ordinary day and it wasn’t. I woke up wondering why the fuck I had to wake up. I hated the day. It began cold. I hate cold days. I’ve also been going through a depression that has sealed my lips and rendered me cold to people. But at least I’ve been writing.
“Fuck! It’s another day!” I remarked at my mother, with whom I am staying with currently. Her, my sister and Mr. Ochieng’.
I knew what I had to do; edit my one week long article and publish it. Afterwards I just wanted to go out, out of the house; where I have been hibernating for the past several weeks/months with no exposure; just the usual cigarette run. My mom even gave me 200 bob for my fare. “You need to see people!”
So I edited my article and then at 3.00pm, I left my home for town to just go and chill at someplace with trees. I arrived at city park; Murumbi’s memorial; which I had been introduced to by my ex, at around 4.00pm.
I sat in the park; wrote some reflections of the year and read more of Angela Davis. Then I started making a video. That’s when I met a couple; a young woman and man who went to sit at the place where I had put my bag.
I joined them after a 30 minutes call with a friend with whom I shared my current life frustrations. It’s the best conversation I have had in a long time. Every Gemini needs a Sagittarius in her life. They had some coffee, alcohol and soda. The girl, Stella, offered me coffee and alcohol which I accepted graciously.
We started chatting and I realized all of us were firstborns; of which I gave them a hug; like you should every first born you meet. We also bonded on horoscopes; she was a Gemini like me and he; a Pisces. Then we realized we all like the Fugees, horror and psychological movies; I had met my tribe!
This encounter was meant to be!
Everything was flowing and when the fireflies started dancing; the half-moon shining through the canopy of trees and crickets began to chirp; we began to walk back home. Then a friend sent me some money she had promised for alcohol; to help me with the hard times I have been going through and we decided to add a quarter to our state. And we did.
They took me through Pangani, showing me around and we ate street smokies, sauntered the streets and chatted more. We even organized for more hangouts in the future.
After that; they walked me to Muthaiga where I would get a car to go home. So we are just walking; then the guy, Ronnie starts to tell us about a time when he and other three friends were mugged by three guys who shot one of their friends at the same place where we were at.
You know how you know when something’s about to happen to you? Well… I have been thinking that someone is going to rob me for the past month. I thought I was going to get robbed as I was leaving the house. I thought about it at Murumbi’s. It’s that inner voice; instinct, that has been preparing me for this moment.
No sooner had he finished speaking about it than I felt a major and vigorous push to the ground and snatch of my bag. It happened so fast. There I was on the ground, unable to move, realizing what had happened.
I gathered my energy and saw that Ronnie was chasing after them, two of them. They were quick on their feet. I also chased. He stopped at a point and I caught up to him. “Why did you stop? I can’t lose my phone! I have to get my phone! I worked so hard for it! We need to go after them!”
They had gone under the bridge. “We can’t go there!” He cautioned. “I don’t care if I die, I can’t let go of my phone!” Partly the alcohol speaking but I have also lost some of my fear of death. I will die anyway; can’t wait to see how it happens. I am curious.
We went under the bridge. We found a man bathing. “Where did they go?” Asked Ronnie and he pointed us to a direction, towards City Park and we followed. Idiots?
When we got to the City Park Bridge opposite the nice apartments near the Shell petrol station, there was no sight of them. Ronnie called my phone, it was off. He went towards the park, I followed the bush and went in deep till I found a shaky bridge, and I couldn’t cross it.
I sat down. Numb. Still. What just happened?
Then I realized I was in the middle of nowhere. Far into the bush. Where women get raped, mugged and blamed. I made it out.
I got back to the bridge. I have no phone. Both of my phones, the one whose screen just got fixed after a year; which my mom is supposed to be using and the one I got months ago. The one I had wanted for two years. My books are gone. My books are gone. My journal, my plan book, The Angela Davis novel, my recorder, my stand. My bag. My wallet. All gone. I have nothing. Ronnie is nowhere to be seen.
“Can I borrow your phone?” No one did. A man with his son even threatened to beat me if I didn’t stop disturbing him. So I climbed the bridge to the other side and I just started to cry. That’s when Ronnie caught up to me. I haven’t cried like that in a long time. I cried so fucking hard.
The ex and the police; same shit.
Then I decided to call the only person I knew around that area. My ex. The one who introduced me to Murumbi. Biiiiiig mistake. He came in about ten minutes. At that time I was smoking a cigarette and Ronnie was telling me we needed to go to the police.
“What were you doing here at that time? Don’t you know past this time…?”
“And we can’t go to the police right now, they will arrest us. I was busy working on something and right now…” He showed me the time; 22.00.
“I called you because I need your help.”
We start walking towards Muthaiga police station. “Seriously Wambui, what were you doing here at this time?”
Then he walks a mile away from me and Ronnie. “Are you sure he wants to go with us?” And I feel ashamed that someone else, a stranger feels for me for than someone who once said I love you, someone who I called because….
Just as we are about to get to the police station, reality dawns on me and I wonder what the fuck am I doing going to report this to the Kenyan police? Seriously! Don’t I know better? I sit down and let out three hearty screams. I have wanted to do that for months now and it feels good.
My ex comes back to where Ronnie and I are seated. “Wambui, I was so busy and now, 10 meters to the station you are behaving like this?”
“You didn’t want to be here right?” I stand up and start walking to the police station and realize that none of these people can understand, can feel my loss. “Well, both of you can go!” I think, well, I am familiar with loss and being stranded at night. I will find my way home. My ex walks away and Ronnie remains.
He walked away like he had four times before. He walked away like he had the first time his love for me died. He walked away like he did after I woke up crying one night after dreaming that my sick father had died. He walked away like he had when he fucked up our relationship. He walked away like someone who never loved me. He never did.
Aaah our police and Mathari; Home
“Mumetoka wapi kwa ulevi? Munajua tunafaa kuwashika?” Ahhh but of course!
It takes close to two hours to get an OB no. A useless OB and go to the hospital, follow up in the morning.
My head which has a scar is throbbing so fast and painfully. I have been having migraines the entire week and it’s the first place I hit when I was thrown to the ground. I feel like it’s going to explode. I am not speaking anymore. All I need is a laptop, a word document, silence. The only noise I want to hear is that of my fingers romancing the keyboard and wisdom trickling from my mind to my wrist.
“Now to the mental hospital!” It’s around 11.45pm.
We cross the bridge and here I am in the great Mathari Hospital. I always knew I would get here somehow. I always knew.
It’s time to get lobotomized! Why continue living like this when I can just shut off the world and shit myself? Let my mother take care of me. You know as a firstborn, you never get that motherly affection, you leave that for the other snakes who come after you.