Oh, Just One Thing

It’s a shame you had to pull down last week’s post… It ranks top 5 of all the posts you have ever written on this blog. And I have read ALL of them.

I’m trying to figure out how that story caused discomfort. Anyway, I’m glad a mutual agreement was reached.

The man in the photo resembles Ketut from Julia Roberts “Eat, Love,Pray”

I was having withdrawal symptoms. I didn’t even know I was addicted to the blog… I mean I was once but I cleaned up my life and found better things to focus on, like filing my nails to make the ends look like an arrow tip and attempting to drink hot tea without scorching my tongue. But then Tuesday came and I was at work (so you see how it’s unfair to not write on a public holiday? Some of us are still slaves and we deserve something good after burning the roofs of our mouths with watery office tea) and I refreshed my email and nothing. Then I got home at 5 and checked my email again, sad that they’ll be too many comments and that mine will be lost in the masses. Nothing. And I thought, the audacity of this man! Wednesday, nothing! Checked FB, IG. Nada! I even thought maybe I had been removed from the mailing list. Resubscribed and checked the website, nothing.
So last night, I dreamt I was drinking soda, Fanta orange of all things, at a semi-clean restaurant, you know those ones where there are flies all over your face and they’re doing that thing, that thing you do in a game of jump-rope where you count to three outside the rope before you jump between the rope? Yeah the flies were doing that with my mouth. Those restaurants where the tables are constantly wiped down with a wet kitambaa that isn’t really clean but serves the purpose of chasing away the flies for a few seconds? Yes, one of those restaurants. And I was drinking the soda and fighting over a straw (God knows why) or was I fighting for another bottle of soda? Anyway someone with a familiar voice started speaking behind me, asking questions that weren’t soda or even food related and I turned around and saw this dark, wizened man with deep frown lines, wearing a blue shirt, zile za ofisi with long sleeves, that was tucked into a pair of ill-fitting jeans that were cinched at the waist with one of those ugly belts. I think you were wearing open shoes and I thought, Yani this guy has such a nice voice and looks like this? And I thought he doesn’t have official clothes? And his forehead isn’t even impressive. And he isn’t even chocolate, this is pure tar. And you were asking questions but the soda/straw situation was more interesting so I ignored you, despite wanting to meet you for the past hundred years. Halafu my normal non-dreaming self was like, IT’S BIKO! TALK TO HIM!! When I turned back to talk to you, you were gone. I blinked and we found ourselves in a shabby matatu, ati we were going to TZ. You were squeezed in the row of seats behind the driver’s, and you looked old and like you have suffered a lot and I was wondering why on earth you’re going to TZ using a matatu when you could just fly there.
So yeah, I was having withdrawal symptoms. We need proper warning if you’re not going to give us our weekly bread.

Last week’s story was so deep I didn’t close the page once I read it. I am so glad I didn’t because a few days later a friend told me you had pulled it down. Now I can’t close the page. Lol!
It’s however good to know why you removed it. I thought the fueling station had asked you to remove. Haha.

Two weeks ago I decided to be reading your posts exactly at 1pm every Tuesday. That decision, however simple, earned me the rare opportunity to read that story. I later shared it with friends and family who have been part of KCDF, only later to see a 404 error. Thanks for explaining the cause. I feel like a true stakeholder at Bikozulu Holdings. Lol

I wonder why you had to pull that one down. It was one of those ‘human’ stories that we hear about. So, is the boy employed now, or did he lose that, too? If you cannot divulge the details, it’s understood. If the boy still needs “kibarua”, I feel you should also let us, who were touched but happy he found something, know.

That’s all.