Goodbye and farewell, Milly G

By Tony M

All of December, I imagined Milly G was on leave; and in January, I thought the young lady writing 'Code-name Stubborn' was what the Americans call an office temp – a stopgap measure, until Milly G came back.

But as January has slowly wound down, unlike Mututho’s laws which are going nowhere, I realised Milly G – like a runaway wife who says she has gone to visit her sick mother, kumbe she has run off with another feller – was never coming back home.

Home being this page, although she always made me sleep in the couch downstairs.

Although, you got to admit, it’s kind of cool, just sneaking away like that, without so much as a word of goodbye to her many fans. I’ll correct her rude manners by saying farewell to Milly G, because my mom taught me better than that. And since it is African to say ‘bye’ to people by eulogising them – as you’ll no doubt discover after you die – here goes.

My Milly G memorial is based on what she wrote a year ago, in January, in this magazine. (Tony M’s eyes cloud with tears as sweet memories flood in). Early last year, Milly G told us she is melancholy when making her New Year resolutions, as she put it, taking "copious cups of coffee in cafes as I (she) conceptualise goals." Who talks like that, other than that weirdo lead hero in the film called ‘V’? Me. Certainly, I will miss Miss Milly G’s mealy-mouthed, miserable copy.

That same January, Milly G said "Tony M appears befuddled when you ask him about his goals, repulsed if you ask him if he plans to make money from his books, and says his (my) long-term plan is to die – and stay dead."

Milly G will be glad to hear that I have changed my mind on that topic; with a child in the oven, even macho men do.

Size matters

In fact, I’ll take the opportunity right here to plug my next, soon to be published novel – ‘Princess Adhis & the Naija Coca Brodaz’ with its pimps, politicians and drug dealers – but then I terribly triply repeat myself.

"There as many kinds of beauty as there are people in the world," said Milly G, a little over a year ago. There are also as many kinds of ugly! But of all the insights she swang us that January of 2010, the most honest was her piece about what girls talk about on girls’ night out.

That catching up, even for chamaas of which our Matilda Nzioki is enamoured, are really a chance for chai and gossip. That size matters – and if your airplane is small, you better have the skills to land smoothly on that runway – and cause turbulence (okay, I may be getting carried away on the analogies there by irrational exuberance).

That many women, (with the possible exception of Zawadi Lompisha), often hide away monies in case of a rainy day – like the man walks out on the family. That that girl gang of lasses actually gives each other Oprah-like therapeutic advice, and smacks the other if they are acting like a fool. Like screwing up their marriage and here I was, thinking they do the opposite. And, yes, they discuss sexcapades – from yucky one-night stands to the time in college they fought over a man who was double-dealing them. But while the chap is long gone from their lives, if not forgotten... they’re together.

Lastly, exactly a year ago, Milly G told us there is nothing like a perfect couple. That’s not true. Milly G and I were – although I slept on the downstairs couch. And we argued all the time. And... ahh, but this is the time for only the sweet memories; and stories.

Milly G at the end of last year sneaked out on us like that tenant who moves out on New Year’s eve at midnight from the plot; when even the watchman is ji-enjoying at the local busaa bar in the adjoining neighbourhood. But that is alright.