You Stole from me

Dear Friend,
I do not hope you are doing well at all. I am not usually a hateful person but something about the memory of you brings out all the hate in me.
See, you and I were close. You knew my dinner plans two days ahead. You reminded me to burp my little one after a feed, you reminded me to check on the cake baking in the oven. You were with me.
Physically apart we were but the thousands of miles and difference in time zones didnot matter. In an era where whatsapp messenger, viber and all the messenger clan members were not yet born..we managed to keep in touch every minute of everyday.
In you I found a friend, confidante and everyone warm and fluffy. Not even the man with whom I shared my bed, body and baby could elicit a smile as wide as the one that flashed whenever my phone vibrated.
#Sigh
You were my sister, brother, best friend and my Me.
So, the day you called to tell me you'd be in town for a three day training was no doubt a happy one for me. I knew we were not going to paint each other's nails or try out each other's petticoats but I had envisaged a fruitful meeting. One where we'd talk personal development. Maybe you telling me about The girl in your life, the one with whom you'd been having problems.
I prepared the evening meal at mine in haste so as to be at your hotel in time for us to catch up and me to get back home before my housemates came home. I carried my little one and off to Your Plush hotel room we trudged.
Little did I know that you had "other plans" for me.
Other plans
Plans that saw my daughter cry herself coarse while you forced yourself on me. I asked you to stop but I doubt you heard my plea. Maybe you did but didnt care.
Tell me, did you feel a better man? Better than the one who was taking me for granted back at my house? All the time you and I had been talking, you seemed to be an understanding person. You understood why I hang in there even when my partner got physically abusive.
But that day, your understanding all disappeared in a haze. I hurt but I could not cry. My baby was crying for her and I. I prayed for her to keep quiet. I prayed that you'd climax and get off me. I prayed that that Thursday would be erased from memory.
When you were done, you apologised, gave me money and left us in your hotel room.
You stole from me.
You stole my belief that no one has sex with another person if they are not in any sort of relationship.
You stole my special box where i kept my values for sex, love and marriage.
You took away my belief in Happily ever afters.
You robbed me of my will to forgive. You turned me against me. You Robbed me.
I took that money home, told my partner- my bad partner about what had happened.
He wept.
We wept.
I still weep. And I hope you are not doing well. Because you stole my goodwill.
Don't be fooled by the happy stories you hear about me, I don't know what happy is. I want to forgive you but that would mean forgiving myself. And I blame myself for trusting you.
My partner forgave me and maybe even forgave you. But I haven't.
You robbed me of my happy little girl. The one I had bubbling inside me.
I hope you are not well.

Tripping...yes I am

Miriam Makeba is on my play list. Surprise song! combined with the rain- this song sends me places. Think playgrounds and grass thatched houses. Lantern lit dinners and BBC News at 6p.m. Listening to guys talking through their 'noses' ;).

I was 14 years of age. Living with my Grand Parents. The Best Couple ever. The closest i ever came to living with Mummy, Daddy and Joy. Yes, there was Joy-in abundance.

At 14, I was exploring and learning and exploring and messing up. Had my first crush- yeah, had a huge crush on the neighbor's kid who seemed to be a ladies' man at my school. My crush all went and died the day he showed up at my school someday and everyone was around him. Well, I know it was a single sex school but everyone was so around him.
Suffice to say, my crush died that day- before I had had an opportunity to be exploited... :D
But, his Dad was a great guy. Had all these books in his study room.. The first time my Grandpa sent me to drop off Nelson Mandela's thriller I was blown away. Totally- I didn't want to walk out of that room. The Late Mr. Ochiengs was a smart guy (oh yeah, he was a lawyer and I was a teen wearing my heart on my forehead).. He looked at me once and told me to pick 5 books. And I could keep them. As long as I read each and gave him a summary- one a week.

He passed on a few months later though. I hope he is resting in Peace. I still have 3 of the five books. I have lost possessions in my life but I can't seem to let go of my Jeffrey Archer, John Grisham and Danielle Steele. The other two, I lost at school- trying to fit in circles by sharing...

So, the evenings with my GrandPa. My Best Friend to date. My Dad. The only Gentleman I've known in this walk of life. My Teacher. My Friend. We listened to Miriam Makeba sometimes- most times before the news came on.

Oh how I miss my Grand Pa. I miss you Jajja Dad.. Ok. So, we'd sit and listen to Makeba (RIP)- aaah, and he'd teach me things about life. Little things here and there.

He taught me how to bargain something to half price with a straight face.

He taught me that family is everything. He taught me that Love is enough. I look back (with tears) at the times he would come visiting me with nothing but his copy of the Sunday Monitor and a packet of family biscuits. We'd sit down and he'd tell me about my GrandMa who was bedridden at the time.
And he'd leave me a happy little teenager.

I remember a time I was suspended after just two weeks of school!! Two weeks! I got home, and fed him my story as was. He looked me in the eye and told me loved me very much. But he was a Teacher. So, he believed my story alright, but when we got to school he would believe the headteacher's story too. And whatever punishment would be dished out, I was to accept without any remorse. So, we agreed on that and fried egg that evening. The topic was never mentioned again.
Super GrandPa.

Oh wait, Its stopped raining- and I gotta come back to right now. Right now, aint so happy. Right now has responsibilities... Responsibilities.

If i could, If it were possible, I would have loved to spend a few more hours with him. ok. at least one hour a day with him. Just one hour a day.
Wait, he is physically gone, but still here,... so, why don't I, put aside one hour a day and write my GrandPa a letter. One a day...

Brilliant... Looking forward to that-we can do this Jajja Dan. We can.

Tomorrow morning- we'll hang out together. That I promise. Right now, I gotta go and do adult runs- Things... see people, take care of them...

I love you.