By Nancy Cherotich
I have two stories to share this week. The first one is AMAZING news, so let’s start with that. I have lost three kilograms. I am so excited I want to run to Coldstone and eat everything I can find in there then later celebrate with a bottle of something really strong. I have thus far resisted that temptation.
The other story is funny, sobering and sad all at the same time. I have always been one of those people who looked at people like they were crazy when they said ‘I can’t eat cause I’m stressed’ or ‘I’m sooo stressed, I can’t even sleep’. If anything, I eat and sleep more than usual in those circumstances. The only way you can know I am stressed is I become very irritable and my brain stops functioning. I guess being angry and stressed causes one to use a lot of energy hence my weight loss.
I should have guessed from the way my week started that it was going to be one tough week. I am the official Queen of Facebook stalking. Very few things pass my very able stalking eyes. Funerals, weddings, break ups, latest love birds, hottest men, latest drama on Facebook groups, name it, I know all about it. I am the type who will see someone’s photo and scrutinize the timeline of anyone who has commented or liked said photo. Do not ask me where I get the time, when you are committed to something, you will find the time. I also sometimes offer counseling services to those who claim to have or are going through a break up. In exchange for my services I get very juicy stories of men behaving badly and husband snatchers. Do not judge, it gives me life.
It therefore came as an absolutely shock to me when I woke up to several messages asking me if I was okay and people celebrating when I respond to their messages. Only later in the day did a friend enlighten me to what was happening. Apparently, everyone thought I was dead. After asking a friend if I was indeed physically in the office and confirming that they could see me and that it wasn’t that my soul loved the office that much, I told him that I was fine and asked him where he heard that story. He told me that there were several posts on Facebook about the passing on of a Cherotich who had a great sense of humor and wrote well, l hence the conclusion that I had passed on. My first phone call was to my mum to check on her because something similar had happened while I was in campus and someone had decided to tell my mother the news before confirming the truth of the story. I am told that the screams my mother chomoad, brought the whole village to a standstill. I had to travel home the same day for her to be convinced that I was alive. When she picked my call and asked what I want, I told her I needed 500 shillings and she asked “kama nimeanza kuvuta sigara.” After confirming that she is okay, my stalking instincts kicked in and I decided to find out more about the other Cherotich.
True to the description I had been given, she was an amazing lady. She was a young lawyer who had just started to prosper in her career. It brought tears to my eyes thinking of the pain her family and all those who knew her were going through. It took me years back when it first hit me that death is inevitable and it can come anytime. A friend and campus mate passed on and it shook everyone who knew him. LC was the easiest going guy you could ever meet. What I liked most about him was the fact that he could talk about anything under the sun. He had a breadth of knowledge that was inspiring. He is the one who taught me the amazing power of books. He had an air of confidence that was sometimes mistaken for cockiness, but being him, he did not care. His death made me realize that we should make use of every single day that we are alive. He is part of the reason why I started writing. Seeing what people had written about Cherotich, all I could do was pray that the family would find peace during such a time.
Have you ever craved a strong drink at 11 am? My throat, heart and brain were crying for alcohol after all that. But instead of caving to the craving, all I did was like the Southern Comfort page on Facebook and ask my organs to be patient. In the evening thinking I was done with the ordeal and I was ready to continue with my normal stalking, I saw I had a message and what I read made me laugh and cry at the same time. There was a RIP message in my inbox. What did this ninja expect? That my soul will chat with him and probably give him more details about heaven? I was at a complete loss of words that all I could write was ‘Sawa, thanks.’ I am still trying to understand what was going on through his mind. I am sure I lost 1 kg just trying to figure that out.
I now proudly stand at 77 and I’m bursting with pride. To those whom I have met in person who say that I am not as big as they imagined, all I can say is nimetoka mbali.
The journey continues.