Diary of a Kenyan 'player'

It is one of those days you sit down to write something then you realize you just have been over-optimistic. Writing is not just your cup of tea, and among many gifts, you lack, one is creativity. But that’s exactly how it works, guys, especially after you already, unwillingly, tapped “chat later babe” to your girlfriend. The other two or three, it is not working out and you would rather have your phone off than hear them beep. So you decide to be busy. You remember you once scored 18 in composition. You can write, right? Take out that writing pad.

So I pull out my intercontinental writing pad (this has been a treasure for days now) and my pen (Bic), and starts writing. Well, I am vague. Nothing flows. I pluck out the first page. Such a loss! Go to the second one. Try out some lyrics (You know how everybody in campus thinks he/she can sing). Damn! I have to tear that again. Then an idea strikes me; why can’t I be real and share with these guys what I go through in my daily life. That sounds awesome, right? Let’s go!

Now, Alaine called. Alaine is my current girlfriend, and probably my future ex. I am in the club (Not a good thing on a Monday). Hey, I don’t drink. I just came to see some friend. The club is loud, normal, though. But it’s like the DJ increased the vibration when he saw me so I didn’t hear my phone ring! The phone went answered.

She would have understood except I had messed up the previous day. Worse… Worst. I left her chatting with ‘ME’ as I drooled off to the theatre of dreams. By the time she was tired, she had ‘eaten’ like eight pairs blue ticks. That was on a Sunday and I had promised to make it up to her the next day, a Monday.

Something else; I have been vying somewhere. I have actually launched my manifesto and the campaigns have been underway until today. In the club is my crush* (Did I spell that right?), Dinah. At first, I think it is a blessed coincidence. Then on her right, I see some familiar face, no, coat. A common character too. There’s a whole lot of revelation running through my mind ( a story for another day). But Dinah can’t be dating Prof. Njiri. The guy is too obsessed with his books. Does he even say ‘babe’ without mentioning waves? And I am not that wrong, the tired man is revising on a date, and in a club.

Whatever, I meet Salvo. (OK. Sylvester). We have been friends for two weeks now. He is a man of links. You know Kenya; tenders are more important than honest regular jobs. He had promised to hook me up to one, of course with a kick back. And that’s where I come in handy. Pretty handy. Should I tell you why now? I am afraid no. Until I am sure of the deal. And he doesn’t seem trust-able, but I collect some documents from him. How I die to get out of this stinking bar, where my crush* is on a date with a Prof. Njiri, and he’s treating her like some revision material.

So I rush out. It is somewhere 9 in the evening. I notice the missed call. Damn! What could Alaine be thinking right now? I call her. No, like I call her number. Nobody picks. I call again, she doesn’t pick. And again, it doesn’t ring. The number is out of service. By the way, is that possible?

I think I better go. I will keep you posted over how this goes. Though there is somebody else I might meet tonight. She doesn’t live far from home. So am gonna be well buddy… I promise I will tell you how this goes