They dragged his ass to court. He was shoeless, penniless, and out of luck. He stood in the dock, blinking in the bright light of justice. The judge, a stern lady of the Vioja Mahakamani disposition, never once looked at him. Head bowed, she read whatever judges read in a dead voice. He was supposed to eschew humility and remorse but he was hungover and all he thought about was the drink he would chug upon his release. With slightly trembling hands, he clutched the wooden railing like a sailor who had run into a mad storm.
The lady judge was saying something about him being ‘mlevi kupindukia” and being a nuisance and a disruption to public peace. An exhibit had earlier been held up for the whole court to see; a jerrican of changaa. Sure, he and others not in court had been arrested in a seedy drinking den in Juja but he didn’t recall disrupting any public’s peace. Actually, they were doing pretty okay alone until the cops came and disrupted their peace. Also, he had never seen that jerrican of changaa in his life – one of the crooked coppers with watery eyes might have planted it on him. Anybody who has drunk changaa knows that you can’t own a jerrican. Nobody walks around with a jerrican of changaa. Screw this kangaroo production, he thought, get it over and done with.
“Unakubali hayo mashtaka?” the judge asked, head still bowed, scribbling something. He said, “Ndio, mheshimiwa.” He thought of saluting her but thought the better of it.
Female judges are like female cops; you don’t try any smart-ass -monkey business with them. I was once stopped by a female cop. Unbeknownst to me, I had crossed an unbroken yellow line or some inane shit like that. I rolled down the window and said cheerily, “Habari ma’am?” She barked back at me, “Unaita nani mum?” I said, “hapana, sikusema mum, nimesema ma’am.” She wanted to punch me. She truly wanted to punch me. She was very light-skinned with plum-like pinkish cheeks and the temperament of a buffalo to match. The life of the party. “Mimi usiniite mum,” she snarled, moving closer to my window “mimi ni afisa, na niko kazi.” OK, then. I said, “Sorry bas, officer. Sina ubaya.” I should have left it at that but silly me, felt like I needed to dig myself deeper into this hole so I said, “Lakini, unakaa umekasirika, I hope sio mimi nimekukasirisha?”Just polite harmless banter between two Kenyans. Let’s just say she kept me there for a long time, chewing my ass. Now if a female cop stops me, no small talk, no smarty-pants remarks, no chummy-chummy. It’s yes, afisa, or no afisa, and I do as I’m told.
The female judge delivered the sentence of possession of illicit brew; a fine of 1,000 bob or “kifungo cha mwezi moja.” Then she rapped the gavel. He didn’t have a 1,000 bob. A cop held him by the arm and led him to a door that opened into a long corridor like the type you see in a cattle dip. The corridor was full of men with stricken looks. The escaping air hit him in the face; it smelled of urethra. As soon as the door closed behind him, rough hungry hands rummaged through his pockets looking for money, cigarettes or whatever. It felt like he was being raised up in the air as this very brief but furious violation ensued. Later he realised that he was in the holding area for men waiting for their hearing or those like him who would be ferried to jail to start serving their sentences.
They were ferried to Thika prison-like cattle where he was handed a prison uniform, the infamous stripes. His uniform barely fit, he floated in it like a ghost. A warder loaned him old bathroom rubber sandals. What can one say about prison? Prison was prison. They did chores during the day. At night, packed like omena, they slept on blankets spread on the floor of a big hall. “You slept sideways and you only turned if the person next to you agreed to turn.” There were all sorts of characters in there; pickpockets with fingers that looked like they had fungus, petty muggers with missing teeth, burglars with scars on their faces, small-time weed runners with small feet, folk who fought in bars, aliens from neighbouring countries who had dyed faces that now looked like medium-rare steak…these and other forms of small-time flotsam and jetsam of humanity. They all had one thing in common; they had lice. His arms and thighs looked like he had been licked by the devil’s cousin. He truly didn’t belong in this prison. Or any other prison. He was a failing engineering student at JKUAT struggling with alcoholism. He had failed to graduate. He had been discontinued. He spent his days drinking in dingy holes around Thika road.
Luckily for him, prison warders took an interest in him; they said he didn’t look like the type of guy who ended up there. “Mtu kama wewe unatupa maisha yako hapa kwa nini?” They asked. One warder got his dad’s number and called him a few times. Dad didn’t want anything to do with him. He’d washed his hands off that story. The warder then called his mom a few times. Get this boy out of here. This was no place for a young man like him, they said. She was reluctant at first because they were supposed to be a united front, teach him a lesson, but then she relented because mothers’ hearts are made from sukari nguru. His brother was sent to go pick him up, halfway through his sentence. He brought him some open shoes and paid 500 bob. He walked out into the sunlight of freedom. His mom had then come from the village and was staying with her sister. When he saw her, she looked sad and discouraged. Food was set before him and he ate as she watched him silently, piteously. She had thrown a green leso around her shoulders to ward off the chill of disappointment she felt. When he was done eating she said, “You have to go to rehab.”
He was shipped to Asumbi Treatment Center in Homabay.
I travelled to Asumbi while doing research for my book DRUNK. I remember parking facing the fence, exiting my car and turning to find some chaps seated under a tree following my movement with very bland interest. I remember talking to someone in administration, being shown the schedules and programs and my request for a tour of the facility being turned down politely for obvious reasons. I remember being saddened to be there, looking at how the patients looked like they were waiting for something good to happen to them but also looking defeated at the same time. Like an oxymoron of a place.
“I was there for three months and in that period I was visited once by my mom.”He tells me. “It wasn’t that bad. At this point in my life I was in bad shape. I remember my university roommate leaving me because I would get so drunk, I’d pee right there in the room when drunk. At Asumbi I met brilliant guys and mad guys. I don’t think rehab helped me the first time but what it did was it made me aware that I had a drinking problem. What rehabs does is that it brings structure into your life. When you are drunk you don’t have any structure. It made me realise that unlike other people, I couldn’t control my drinking.”
“Does heavy drinking run in your family?”
“First time I used to think hii kitu ni urogi,” he chuckles, “but it’s in my family. My uncle died from booze complications. He died on his seat outside his house, his head just rolled to the side and he was dead. Other uncles and cousins are struggling with it. I think it’s in the genes, this alcoholism thing because all the first born boys on my dad’s side have struggled with it. My father on the other hand thought that learned people, people who were smart and who went to university to study courses like engineering, medicine or law were immediately immune to alcoholism so he didn’t understand my problem.”
In rehab, he was appointed the overseer. The guy in charge of other men. “I was mkubwa wa walevi,” we chuckle at that. “Can you imagine the irony? When I was outside, I was a mess, but inside I was a leader!”
Three months after he was discharged, his mom was there to pick him up. A month later he was drinking again. “You can go to rehab a million times but if you don’t internalise the program in your heart it won’t help you. I internalized the program, but only intellectually. It was in my head, not my heart. You need to embrace it here,” he points at a point I’m pretty sure is his lung, but who am I to say where a man’s heart is?
“How bad was it?” I ask.
“Pretty bad,” he says.
“How pretty bad?”
“You drink, right?” he asks.
“At some point you say, ok, let me go home now.”
“Yeah.” I want to add, ‘then I get on my horse, and say, ‘whoa boy, let’s go to mama!”’
He continues. “So when I drink there is no internal mechanism that tells me to stop and go home. I’m in free fall. I leave my senses. I’m mad. I’m walking on a precipice. I do mad things; I stagger into highways. I stagger into walls. I wake up in police cells, in ditches. I’ve woken up in a dingy room someone paid for and locked me in until dawn. One time I was travelling to Kisumu. I was thrown out of the mat at night because I was drunk. They left me in the middle of nowhere, just after Nakuru but I didn’t know where I was. I walked and walked in pitch darkness until I started hearing the birds, it was morning. I asked someone where I was and they said, ‘Kericho.’ That’s how I drink. It’s like nothing you have ever seen.”
He resat his exams in JKUAT in 2009 and passed. Actually, he was the best. He got a job in an engineering firm. When his first salary landed in his account, he went on a bender and ended up in Kenyatta Hospital where he was put on a drip. He stayed a week. In November of the same year he went back to rehab in Ngong and stayed for two months. When he came out sober he got a very good job. His drinking started again. It got worse. He got warnings from his boss. They said, “We like you, you are brilliant at what you do, but you gotta watch this drinking.” They let him go eventually.
He moved to the village in 2011. He shows me his Simba that looks exactly like my Simba. They could be twin simbas. He was depressed in that simba, in the village, how villagers called him “engineer,” as if mockingly. He drank in hovels that sold changaaa, drinking with men who had nothing left to lose. 2011 turned into 2012 and then 2013. He got a job again, a decent job and the drinking continued. I have to say here that for all that drinking he describes he doesn’t look like your typical drunkard; red-lipped, saggy-faced, tired looking and bony. He is healthy and coherent. He could be anyone.
“What would trigger your drinking so much?” I ask.
It’s the same story of alcoholism. Only for him it was the stretches of sobriety, a year or so, then one drink and the bottom falls off and he’s sinking into the chasm. He was now in the village, his contacts in Nairobi dried up, his prospects thinned, his friendships even thinner. “Your phone never rings. Nobody calls you because nobody wants anything from you. Nobody wants anything from you because people have written you off.” He had had no notable female relationships at 39. He occasionally would drink a lot. Mostly he helped his father around the boma; milking cows, helping in the farm, or helping mzee with his projects. Kept him busy. He’s getting gigs to do, odd gigs that require a sharp engineering brain. “My dream has always been to work for the government but I think my prison record has gotten in the way of that,” he says.
But then something peculiar happened to his life at the beginning of this year.
His drinking changaa base is called Kwa Mama Fei. With exception of Cliff The Tall (your wife makes dope birthday cakes, boss. Thank you, Lisa) I don’t suppose many of you have been to a changaa den. There is no barman. There is no parking. There are no ice cubes. Or mixers. You pee against a tree or in a bush or on the leg of the guy who never buys anyone rounds. Mama Fei’s belongs to Mama Faith. Faith is the girl you don’t dare talk to.
There are two sitting areas; in a small poorly lit house or behind the house on benches. The people with village money – the VIPs – sit inside the house. The rest of the hoity-toity sit outside. Inside, a glass is 100 bob a pop. Outside in the cattle section it’s 50bob. It’s a bit like the Titanic; inside is full of stiffies who think they are still somebodies. They speak a lot of English. Outside is like the ship’s lower deck where all the fun is. This is where you find the storytellers, the quick-witted and the comedians. There are a lot of laughs outside, and people falling off benches and just dozing off there, folk stepping over them as if they are logs.
Outside is where Engineer would drink.
“Often when I’d lose sleep in the middle of the night I’d call Mama Fei at 3am and tell her I’m going over. Then I’d walk there in darkness and I’d find her awake with my drink ready. That’s how desperate drinking makes you. You drink not because you enjoy drinking but because you are thinking a lot, a sinking stone.” He says. “During one of those nights Mama Fei told me, ‘wewe bado ni kijana, mbona hujaa oa bibi? Nikutafutie bibi?’ I didn’t want her to bother me any further so I said, sawa, mlete. A few days later she told me she spoke to a lady and she would be coming in a few days.”
A week later, a lady showed up at his mom’s house together with Mama Fei and a church lady. She said, “Haya, mschina ndio huyu.” She was slim and beautiful. Engineer likes slim curvy girls. She was dressed very neatly even by shags standards. Well coiffed. A 27-year-old Bukusu girl with rich skin. Her mother – also a Bukusu – was curiously very excited. “I was still high. Normally it would take about ten days for me to completely sober up. So when this girl came to our shags it didn’t register to me.” He says. They all sat in the living room making small talk as a child ran after a squeaking feathery lunch behind the house. It was a meet and greet so she didn’t have a change of clothes but his mom didn’t want to let her go back. She offered to buy her clothes in the market the following day.
That night she moved into his small Simba. Man and wife.
“Was it awkward?” I ask.
“No, not at the beginning, remember I was still drunk?”
“Did you get laid?”
“Yeah…eventually.” He laughs. “It had been long time since I was intimate with a woman… a year plus…maybe even two.”
“I didn’t have anyone but also I just didn’t have the urge, you know. When you drink like that the urge goes away and women are just effort which you don’t have..”
“What did you guys talk about those first few nights?”
“Not much, the first few nights because I was slowly weaning off alcohol, so just small talk…nothing that I can recall in specifics.”
As he slowly sobered up he gradually started seeing her clearly; he learnt that she was a teacher by profession. She was polite and respectful. She was dutiful, he noticed. She slowly upgraded the simba, bought a carpet, a table, and curtains. She always opened the windows. The house smelled fresh and clean. But as he sobered up and regained his senses he also panicked, he thought Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into! I don’t need a wife. But she slowly grew on him. How tender she was. How concerned and dedicated she was towards him. His mother adored her. His father respected her. “There is something about her that has just changed my life gradually. She brings me peace. Some level of order. And love. I have only been in three relationships in my life, never lived with a woman before but I got a very good feeling about this woman. She’s called Brigdett, by the way. I think she was raised to be my wife. I mean if you are looking for a wife, you are looking for Brigdette.”
“Would you say you are happy?”I ask.
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever definition of happiness you choose.”
He pauses. “You know, I’m not really good at processing my feelings and now you are making me do that.” He leans back on his seat, mulling. “Happiness Is not a feeling for me. I don’t talk about love or happiness, it’s about responsibility. I appreciate her presence in my life. Honesty is big for me and she has been open about herself. She has taken me for all these flaws that I have. I now feel like a man. I feel proper. Whereas my self-esteem has suffered greatly I now feel respected. This woman has given me confidence. I see even how my dad deals with me now is different, like a man with a wife, a responsible man. I can stop my dad when he starts saying something I disagree with. I have confidence. Before I wouldn’t. But most importantly I stopped drinking. I haven’t touched alcohol since she came into my life six months ago.”
It worries me, a little; him placing the responsibility of his sobriety on her. I ask him what happens when she disappoints him, as she is bound to at some point because she is human and she isn’t perfect. “Will that send you back to drinking, to drown that disappointment, seeing as your drinking has stopped because of her?”
“If she disappoints me I will send her away. She will go!” He snaps. I know he doesn’t mean it, this initial response. I recognise it for what it is, male conditioning, machismo, a show of might, and authority. I know this because as soon as these words leave his mouth, he takes a small step back and reconsiders his answer, replacing it with another one, a more tempered one this time.
He says he doesn’t know. That he’s taking life a day at a time. “I don’t care what happens tomorrow, if I drink or not.” That disappoints me, breaks my heart a little. As I’m still processing this he asks me, “Have you watched Shawshank Redemption?”
I have. Ages ago. Si Morgan Freeman?
“Yeah. There is a scene where Red faces a parole board for the last time and he is asked if he is rehabilitated. He asks them what that means. He says it’s a bullshit word, a policy word. That he regrets the boy who did all those nasty things before, but that boy is long gone and what’s left is this old man sitting before you. So he says he doesn’t give a shit about that word. They stamped the approval of his parole. That’s how I feel.”
I don’t quite understand the relation of this scene and his life but I don’t ask because the interview has been going on for over two hours and my gluteus maximus is tired of sitting. That was two weeks ago. I called him today morning. I could hear birds in the background. He had sent me some pictures of his shags in Western; rolling greenery, blue skies, fresh air. I pictured him standing under that sky. I asked about rain because now I’m at the age where you have to ask if it’s raining. Then I asked him about that scene in Shawshank and why it’s relevant to his story.
“That scene is important because before I got here I used to play to the gallery. I would say things to please people, someone would tell me they want to give me an opportunity, but can we trust you? I would gush about being sober and changed, a new man and that kind of thing. Now I don’t care. I know myself, I know where I have been, if you can’t take me for who I am, then see you later, tembea na Yesu. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I can’t control how people see me but I can control how I see myself. I’m the man I want to be in my mind and in my heart and I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow.”
“Well said. Well said,” I tell him, “Listen, if I ever find myself near your shags I will definitely look for you. I would like to visit Mama Fei too.”
He laughs loudly. “Lazima. I will tembeza you in the village. You will see the ditches I have been through.”
The registration for the creative writing masterclass scheduled for next week is closing this weekend. Get the last slot HERE.
Also, do you have a quirky compelling story? Buzz me on [email protected]
how does it feel to be the 1st one here
In a hospital waiting in the queue. It is refreshing to have something amazing to read.
Really nice reminds me of a few verses from the Bible;
He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord
An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life. She seeks wool and flax and works with willing hands. She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar.
You are blessed Man
Yes. He who finds a “wife”..which means she must be a wife before she is found. All the man needs to be is a man. So ladies, make yourselves wives and you will be found. Problem is, many women of today were not raised to be wives. They were raised to be men..to go out and fight it out with other men. Hence the scarcity.
Great Read. Thank you Biko
Peace be with you.
It is an amazing story…the alcoholics’ stories always hit me here (points to solar plexus) , too close for comfort. Thank God for the Bridgettes of this world, peacemakers, may they be blessed.
I hope we will come back to hear great things but even if we never visit in time, I am so happy he is no longer playing to the gallery, Play on and dance to your own tune!
Peace be with you.
Life is a mystery.
Wow! This is deep! Happy for the dude! May he be fulfilled and not turn back to alcohol. Hoping the next time you meet he will be a father. I would like to read his perspective on life as a parent.
Thank you and cheers to a blessed week ahead!
This destiny shaper found at the very place that was sapping his life out. Very interesting, what peace, love, and willing responsibility.
My mum was a Brigdette many eons ago. She’s full of self blame and poorly masked regret now and I’m a 29 year old with anger issues (that I’m working on)
Moral of this comment? Hang in there. You seem to be doing so well already. All the best!!! Brigdette is a life saver!!
Ciku, that’s the thing. We all want to see the happy but never ask about Bridgett after 10, 20 or 30 years.
I hope your mum finds healing and you are able to resolve the deep issues that caused the current pain. I’ve since learnt something from my healing journey: most of the ‘Bridgetts’ didn’t know better. They didn’t think their actions would lead to the current situation.
Can I get link to your whatsap group kindly.
I love your work.
The phoenix rises from its own ashes.
Wow, mama fei was God sent
Who else saw that question of getting laid coming?
“she is a teacher by profession” this part gave me mixed feeling about this profession of ours.
Teachers and nurses make the best wives…so I hear.
Please toa nurses hapo!!!!!!
I’m the man I want to be in my mind and in my heart and I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow.”…..
That, right there, is another level of self-awareness. He had to have beaten himself up many times before that resolve could register. Nothing can beat that! Big up to him. And Brigdette must be a pearl, one of those rare, once in a lifetime kind.
All Bukusu babes in house helloooo
Helloooo (hands all the way up)….
Hi bukusu babe
This whole time I’m wondering about Bridget… she’s a teacher by profession so how did she just nove in with him. I’d want to be like that, not think just move
Many factors come into play.
Moving in where ? Village settings and town settings are very different. In town, you would be gambling heavily – you might never get to meet the family.
Next is the man’s family – would you be accepted ?
Then there is the man himself – How well do you know him or his family ? (In the village, people know each other or about families well. ) And would the man’s attitude towards you change over time ?
What are you leaving behind ? What are you getting into ? What is guaranteed ?
Bridgette was “head hunted” for a “well known position”. I am pretty sure she “researched the organization before joining camp”.
Note that church weddings and elaborate dating does not guarantee you a happy life long marriage …
Lastly, keep in mind that the fact that you can’t just move into a man’s house is a plus for some men – they respect that. So just be you 🙂
Bridgette is my Shujaa! Kudos Mwalimu!
Thanks for sharing your story. Its redemptive and a ray of hope to many going through the same. Very apt especially during this season when many are battling demons, mental illness and borderline depression masked by alcoholism.
How do you become your own Bridgette now that there may not be many Bridgettes to go round?
Well, love and hope are redemptive.
Alcohol has destroyed many people and families than it has built. Alcoholic syndrome is a disease like any other, you need a strong support system to help you get back to who you are. Am glad his mother fought for him, his dad now respects him and a wife who shows him love and care. I pray that his sober days will stretch into many years that he will talk about his drinking days like he would about a stranger’s life.
I like this guy’s peace that comes with appreciating today, now, and not being anxious about tomorrow.
Reminds me of Matt 6:34
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
i’ve never had the guts to comment but this one got me out of that cacoon .. maybe because am also haunted by that gene… n my nbot so rosy relationship with alcohol.. Way to go man.. Raise a glass to Bridgette.. may we all find ours.. no longer playing for the gallery.. that we ain’6t bro… nice read Biko.. cheers
Women.constantly fixing broken men sigh!…he doesn’t seem like he will stay sober especially when they start facing marital stress like having kids and finances are slim. and poor bridget will find herself with 3 kids going back to her parents because she has had enough.
Have faith and pray for him
Put yourself in his mother’s shoes, just for today
Username checks out. We all need some help sometimes. You do too.
Finally someone who is not romanticizing this! It is not the role of women to fix broken men!!
I think so too, I partly feel sorry that Bridget had to be the saving grace of someone else and noone is thinking about her. Its called codependency, it might even screw up with her esteem in the future….but what do I know
Bukusu lady, hit me up and bless my life
Thing is, everyone has a choice. Bridgette chose the guy, despite knowing all he is. She was not forced
May God give her resilience.
Remember Red, hope is a good thing.
Somebody real s hard to find, somebody who tells the truth, somebody who loves you for you. I think he found a real human in Bridgette.
Even though at the beginning he was “out of luck”, I’m now convinced that he’s “full of lack”.
Thank you Biko and I wish him and Bridgette all the best in life.
And a big shout out to Mama Fei, through her the Engineer was saved from his own mess.
Your phone never rings. Nobody calls you because nobody wants anything from you.
I slowly drifted to Asumbi, that was amazing. God bless Brigdett’s heart.
Biko, why the devil’s cousin though?
Nice read… very encouraging
I’m happy for this man. Getting a feminine woman for a wife is a blessing. A feminist will send you to your grave at break-neck speed. I wish you a life of abundance and many children, like the stars in the sky.
Many women of today undermine the importance of a woman’s respectful cooperation with a man, a.k.a submitting to a man, and what value it can yield for their own lives.
I’ve actually been to a chang’aa den
Rehab is only helpful when the person has a good level of insight and has made the decision to quit drinking or abusing whichever drug…
Asante Mama Fei for coming through in a big way for the Engineer
Incredible,thanks for the read.
I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow.”
Insightful. I pray it all works out for both of them.
This is touching and well written as always Biko. Beautiful story
Now I don’t care. I know myself, I know where I have been, if you can’t take me for who I am, then see you later, tembea na Yesu. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I can’t control how people see me but I can control how I see myself. I’m the man I want to be in my mind and in my heart and I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow.”
I am rooting for you you Engineer. May you stay on the sober side of life and may everything else fall in place for you and your wife. Be blessed.
Wine/strong drink are a mocker as the bible puts it. It can make the smartest people foolish. I’m glad he is getting his life together.
Get a job engineer, and perhaps involve Bridgette in managing the salary since a salary seems to be a trigger.
I would also like to place an order for a Bridgette replica for an alcoholic relative.
Mama Fei, is that you reading Bikozulu?
Reading this story is just a mere reflection of someone dear to me. To make matters worse is a lady. Senior nurse . But due to her drinking she just woke up one day and decided to resign and disappear to drink
A great read
As always a good read.
Allow me make some observations . ‘Urethra’ is an internal body part you may have meant ‘urea’?
‘Hoity toity’ means the important folk: you may have meant ‘hoi polloi’?
Self awareness, peace and hope.
The description at Mama Fei’s den, so phenomenal. Great read!
Stella wee ni mzee sana kuandika hii upuzi
Bridgette kinda silenced the shit he was so much obsessed with. I love her, may he change not only for her but for himself too.
It’s amazing how some people come into our lives and transform us… it’s healing to know so
Great read! He who finds a good wife finds a good thing!
Biko, welcome Boss.
Awesome read as always Sir, but please, don’t take him back to Mama Fei’s
Mama Fei is amazing, she knew that she would lose a customer by reforming him yet she did it anyway. God bless Mama Fei for getting him a wife.
I know someone of this kind and sad to say he is an engineer too. Except for the tribe and age difference I would say he is the one in this story
Sisi engineers were just chilling…everything will be ok!
Always a pleasure
Gentlemen, gather here please.
There is Mama Fei and then there is Bridgette…
You must recognize them in your life. They are always around you. wanting the best for you. Ready to nurture and guide. Don’t miss the moment.
Mama Fei is that concerned loving mama mboga…big sister in the office…distant auntie… She can see you and your abilities. Listen to her. These women have loads of wisdom… They mostly play the match maker role. I personally missed one such opportunity…
Then there is this gal…she could be pretty…boring…plain… She sees the potential you have to make a great man…her man that is. Don’t miss the opportunity. These are usually God sent… Style up and man-up. Thank me later. Especially if you are a mess and she wants to love “as you were”
Class dismissed…..Bryo and Kevo…see me
God bless this lady, can I get her sister for a brother?
Great story!! It’s never too late to start over. I wish him well.
This is an uplifting article, it displays hope and there is a future. No one is a write off!
Bridgette sounds like a saviour and a keeper and a lover.
I’m rooting for them!
I hope he stays strong in sobriety and if he slips back I hope Brigette is strong enough to stay by him if she will want to.
I’m scared for her, she has not seen the lows.
Teachers are nuturers.
I know myself, I know where I have been, if you can’t take me for who I am, then see you later, tembea na Yesu. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I can’t control how people see me but I can control how I see myself. I’m the man I want to be in my mind and in my heart and I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow.”
am back after a long while
“When I get sober, I’ll get my act together
I will put my life in order, No longer be a victim
Of the devil on my shoulder, Lord knows I’ve been lost for way too long
I’m getting older, Na muda unayoyoma aisee”
Sauti Sol, 2020.
Biko, please let known if Bridgett has a sister.
And that right there ladies and gentlemen. Is the power of a woman. Even the good book says he who finds a wife finds a good thing…. I can only pray that you keep it steady, if only for the sanity of your wife. Did you mean for her name to be Bridgette or did I misspell?
And then again, did you ever pay dowry ama yours was a “free gift”?
And oh yes, The Shawshank Redemption was a very good movie, one of my best ever! I re-watched it countless times. Very nice. Now don’t mistreat life and it will be good to you. Here’s to more life…
These sounds so much like my brothers story, they are similar, except that he went to colle in Voi and never finished because of alcohol. Had a stint in Nairobi to finish off his studies but again alcohol. Then he went to the village. Now my brother is firstborn and he was the brightest. Until today it pains me how alcohol has done him. None of us touch alcohol because we saw what it did to him. Almist 3 years back, he was brought a wife, he was 34 then. Beautiful lady that one. He is not yet sober but he has stints of sobriety. They now have a daughter(lovely girl) and another on the way. I wish things were better than they are now. Rehab also never worked for him. Infact he became worse and that was ages ago.
Kudos Bridget… May you be the turning point he needed.
His uncle is fortunate to have just lolled over on his drinking bench and kufad! ( My ole man died hard, across months, with his cirrhosis, and still chapad brandy till three weeks to ‘dasvidanya.’). Now, onto our guy’s Shawshank quote: –
” There is a scene where Red faces a parole board for the last time and he is asked if he is rehabilitated. He asks them what that means. He says it’s a bullshit word, a policy word. That he regrets the boy who did all those nasty things before, but that boy is long gone and what’s left is this old man sitting before you. So he says he doesn’t give a shit about that word. They stamped the approval of his parole.” ( one of the great all time movies, from a Stephen King story)
For our friend, though, another quote from the film is what I most WISH for him: ‘Here’s to (Andre Dupree), who swam through five hundred yards of tunnel shit … and came out, clean as a whistle, on the other side!’ (g’luck to Bridgette).
I pray for you engineer and for Bridget.
May you have a happy prosperous life.
May you be matched in the high times and in the low moments.
May you sail both the high seas and the low tides together.
May you be inseparable.
May you conquer together, may you celebrate your conquest together and most importantly, may you enjoy the fruit of your conquest together.
May you conquer your demons together and may you conquer her demons together as well.
May you be a beacon of hope to others in similar situations.
May you now build your legacy.
A long prosperous life is what I pray for you.
“It is not easy being drunk all the time. Everyone would do if it were easy.” – Tyrion Lannister
Awesome awesome awesome awesome!!!! In the end I think he was just looking for his kind of love and he found it in Bridget. Please do a follow-up story in a year or so, it would be nice to meet his kids
Mama Fei should be given that thing they call HSC. It takes a great woman to fix hard drinks and marriages.
I love the happy ending for this dude.
Meen he’s really suffered.
He’s soo bright, I pray an opportunity in his field of engineering locates him.
Gluteus maximus. That’s an intelligent word for ass. My mother used in during a hospital visit and the doctor was impressed
I feel so inspired by Bridgett. Women/men should learn that nobody is perfect, you shape your person with a lot of love and understanding because everyday is learning process.
I hope he never touches the bottle again.
Reading this just relates a lot with Sauti Sol’s song – Sober. Below are the lyrics.
Credits: Sauti Sol
When I get sober
I’ll get my act together
I will put my life in order
No longer be a victim of the devil on my shoulder
Lord knows I’ve been lost for way too long I’m getting older
Na muda unayoyoma aisee
Call my mama
And tell her that I’m sorry for the lies and pains I caused her
And tell her that I never meant to turn out like my father
Lord knows that she’s cried too many tears for all my drama
Naomba unisamehe mathe
I’ll call my daughter
And listen to the stories of a guy that she called father
Hope I get the courage to say sorry to her mother
Lord knows that she tried to make it work, I pray the karma
The karma will be easy on me
When I get sober
I’ll look for all my friends and make amends
I’ll drink more water
Find somebody new to love again
Feels like it’s over
But Lord knows that I need another chance
To start all over
Na Misiri sirudi kamwe
When I get sober
I’ll get my act together
I will put my life in order
No longer be a victim
Of the devil on my shoulder
Lord knows I’ve been lost for way too long
I’m getting older
Na muda unayoyoma aisee
A good read. I like the positive perspective. Light at the end of the tunnel.
The wife is God- sent
My Story and his are a very similar. Almost acting the same script.
I’ve drunk in dingy places. I’ve dropped out of Campus, coincidentally doing an Engineering Course. I’ve gone back and finished my failed Units. I’ve been to Asumbi for 90 Days.
Sobriety is possible, I can attest. One day at a time.
At First, you have to hook it on something (or someone). He’s hooked his on the Bukusu Love.
I hooked mine on Fear. Yes, Fear kept me sober for a while. I Feared dying. I feared running mad again. I feared the beating I had gone through.
But with time, you’ve to unhook it on anything and place it inside yourself. It’s a personal decision to stay sober. God, or whatever higher power you choose will help you sober up.
It’s a daily decision. One Day at at Time.
Interesting, Smart guy there though messed up by liquor.
Positively – He is surviving and is going to make it.
Some of us have lost “Engineer” Brothers and Sisters to the village changaa dens completely. They died like stray dogs, mysterious, pained souls that we lost many many years ago while they were still in Campuses, only we didn’t know.
We just lived with shells of humans in our shared bedrooms and living quarters, compounds, classrooms.
Hoping that one day they will wake up from their stupor and be real humans again, the big brothers or sisters who’d suddenly start taking care of us, hold our hands and show us life. Play ball, walk to church, chat up girls.
But this did not happen. Instead, we buried our big brothers and sisters with their dreams and promises.
Leaves very sad parents and disillusioned siblings especially if you really tried to help.
Alcoholism is a monster that grows slowly from that first drink to eventually decimate souls, jobs, families in daylight.
Lets pray for our children and siblings, our friends and neighbours’ children, those Campus students in our towns with rugged hair and sleeveless tops and small jeans, and hope for wisdom to be good solid guides. And be present.
All the best to this Engineer.
I have a brother who has struggled with alcohol and can’t explain the pain and the tears as we watch the pain they go through can someone give me mama Fei number. My brother needs a wife. He has been sober for a year now,
hehe ‘squeaking feathery lunch’..
Ha! Watched Shawshank Redemption yesterday night. How coincidental
Sometimes I’m convinced alcohol is very sweet, otherwise how does one drink to that extent?
I hope he does not relapse, Bridgette is a steely woman.
Great piece Mr
” I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I can’t control how people see me but I can control how I see myself. I’m the man I want to be in my mind and in my heart and I don’t know about tomorrow, I know about today and today I’m in a good space, a better space than I was before so I will enjoy today and not worry too much about tomorrow”
This is deep, man!!!
Such a nice read, as usual.
Bukusu ladies, hit me up and bless my life
I usually wonder how someone can detail their mistakes and go ahead to do them repeatedly. He seems to be aware of what is happening to him but can’t control his negative thoughts which lead to drinking into stupor. Is there a scientific explanation to this?
i am not an expert scientist, but from my little understanding on drug abuse it is called drug dependency- the user is aware of the negative implications but he cant stop. he has a compulsion to use it. pia they use it coz they fear withdrawal defects. some drugs like heroine once you withdraw from them can lead to sever symptoms like kicking legs, diarrhea and vomiting. i hope umeelewa
This is an amazing read. Bridgette is God sent to save the engineer guy. God help us to recognize “Mama Fei” in our lives.
i am happy the guy regained sobriety. its heart warming.
God help all people struggling with alcoholism. i am studying something on the drugs and substance abuse. the addition or compulsion to drink alcohol is actually a chronic health condition. but our society sees is as moral decadency. lets support them where we can.
something to take home: for the pray for teenagers around you to never taste drugs. once they taste they are at risk of drug abuse menace.
Biko God bless you for highlighting on drug use and its downside. Cheers
A great piece
Great read as always. The irony is mama Fei who fed him with “poison” found him his “medicine”…. for now
Your writing is becoming an obsession for me. Thank you Bikozulu
Been there, done that…
Mama Fei was heaven sent….Enjoyed every bit of the story.
Your Book DRUNK is amazing, we’d read it in turns in highschool between lessons
Feels like a part of my story, I once dated a guy who was an alcohol addict, as soon as we started dating he stopped drinking and his life changed completely. unfortunately, we parted ways 2020. I thanked God I impacted his life positively
That means one thing-you are a good woman.
Is this guys name Brian? Sounds exactly like a Brian I went to campus with in Jkuat who was also an alcoholic…always wondered where he disappeared to. 8f it is, let me know kindly..would love to touch base.
I’m never one to comment but this story reminded me of that kid from Purple Drank and I really hope he’s okay.
A man fighting his demons and I’m pretty sure conquering them. Lessons aren’t necessary the ones you spew out and they make sense to everyone; sometimes they just need to make sense only to you. All the best to ‘engineer’.