Monday mornings
I was up the whole night, thinking. Or watching or Instagramming while watching.
I can multitask maybe, or it's the background sounds of Baywatch, or mainly it's the voice of the Great Man of men; Dwayne Johnson I love so much. I'm watching this for the umpteenth time now.
It's six, I prepare to leave. Some people brush their teeth after the shower, I do it before. I find it great though (was this even important really?).
As I walk out of the house I meet him. My bike guy, he's an albino. One of the greatest souls I'll ever meet. He is opportunistic, hardworking, kind, determined and most of all he is positive. There's a thing with positivity, it makes people attractive and I think you should try that sometime.
"Twende Sasa?" He asks.
Today I was planning to speed-walk, I tip him some coins for breakfast because somehow that makes me feel good. Like when Angel Gabriel is revising my file in heaven he won't see just things like how I hate that kid with mucus on the road, or how I find Dwayne attractive but God if you're reading this, how is that a sin? I am just appreciating nature, but that and adultery and murder are the same?
Students are hurrying for school. Watchmen or men dressed in uniform for work - well they could be anything, they could be teachers, or horse riding trainers. But there are no horses in the Eastern Province. Everyone is hurrying like we are walking against time, that Kipchoge thing had impact on Kenyans.
Then a woman, a mother, she looks abnormal or she could be just a normal homeless woman. Her hair is messy, her clothes are torn and dirty, her smell - oh God, that smell is not good at all. Then at the back she's carrying her baby. Maybe a girl or a boy, she wrapped her baby so well that no cold can touch it. I can only see the baby's face.
That baby is smiling at me like the world is filled with puppies and ice cream. Well, I think puppies and ice cream are great but is the world really great? The baby is innocent. It doesn't know it's mother is homeless and maybe hungry, I wish I had some coins on me, that smiling baby needs milk, or maybe it doesn't drink milk, it needs bread.
I am still walking. I enjoy the sound my shoes make with the tarmac. It is lyrical and jazz or hip-hop-ish.
I might have passed a city council cleaner. Or not. Because I normally don't look at cleaners' faces, nor their bodies - I just see them the way you see a shop or a mall. For a second I wonder if I am the only one who doesn't notice them.
Then the security guards in dark blue raincoats. My best friend calls them black. Honey, they are dark blue. Black is like charcoal you sucker (insert that 'you annoying piece of shit' emoji).
They must be freezing from this weather but they love their jobs, or they don't but they have bills to settle, they have families behind them and needy girlfriends too (I only add this girlfriends thing because women don't really understand the depths men go to make them happy, they take it for granted and that is painful. Especially when that money comes from sacrificing sleep and putting yourself at risk).
Moonlight is open, I was told it is an overnight hotel. Waiters are checking in to change shifts. Then drivers. Now this ones I must look at them, they're not invisible like cleaners. I look at my driver, as if I study their alcohol content by my eyes. Am never trusting my good life with a drunk driver, I can be careless with anything else but not my life. I'd rather wait for a sober driver.
I am at Total One. I don't know why there had to be two totals, it's none of my business though. I secure a window seat. Then I pray that God to gives me a nice smelling person today. Most of the people I sit with smell like cigarettes. And muguka (ask your meru and kamba friends buddy i dont know too) it's disgusting. It gives me headache sometimes. The last guy I sat with smelt like cigarettes mixed with rotten eggs, or it was his perfume that smelt that way. But his lips, oh God, he looked like someone who used to test the temperature of boiling kettles with his lips.
Then I see them hug, they kiss and hug again. They must be in their third or fourth year together. You just know an old couple, the way they're free with one another, the way her hand fits in her's the way they fit. They are perfect. Then she kisses her one last time. She gave her one last forehead kiss and bades her goodbye.
God, which supermarket sells love like this? I want to buy one and get one free.
She walks towards me and occupies the empty space.
She smells like cerelac and weetabix. A cerebix lesbian. But she smells good.
_
Gloria Nyagaka is Kenyan and just completed her Bachelor's degree in Geology.
She has been a writer for six years now. Her manuscript is the biggest project she’s ever done, a modern romantic thriller, is in the hands of her literary agent. It is a book that expresses great female characters and the strength of a woman at large. She mostly campaigns against women violence and for freedom for women to choose. She also focuses on how great women have changed the world, Michelle Obama, Serena Williams, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and others. She is a swimmer, a swim coach, a Taekwondoka, hockey player, and a dancer.
