ENDING FRIENDSHIPS

… As the friendship goes resentment grows, we will walk our different ways- Bad Blood- Bastille

I am sure as everyone reads that line, you realize that there are always those moments in almost all of the relationships we have, be it with friends or family. The moment when you realize that there isn't much to hold you together. The dawning of the truth that your road together has come to its inevitable end. Take a minute and look back at how many of your individual relationships have had to meet this stick end.

Personally, as I look back on the friendships that I have lost- consciously or unconsciously- I discover that there is a lot I could have done differently to try and keep those that I valued close to me. Equally, there is plenty that I would not do any differently. This situation is the kind some might term as being at a cross roads. The time when you need to pick, albeit painfully, between those you need to push further away and those you need to keep close to the vest.

We have had to push some people away. People who either drag you down, weigh negatively on you and end up causing you more grief than joy. I tried to lend a hand to a few such individuals. Big mistake. Those relationships felt like being the Titanic or the Bismark, doomed to sink even with all the effort of the universe vested in it to keep it a float. Unfortunately, being perceived as a 'good guy' tends to draw these types out of the woodwork. The kind of people who bury themselves neck deep in shit because they know you will be there for them. The endless hoards of people sapping all the emotion out of you. The reason I send them off is, no matter how hard or well you try, they always end up doing something silly and drag you down with their baggage. The best lesson I learnt was to push them away as fast and as hard as you can. Burn those bridges so that they do not follow you.

Then there are the pompous types that believe that they know everything about you. They even believe that in their deluded way they can tell you who you are and how to be you. They even confuse themselves long enough to think that they can run your life for you. These are the friendships that fade into resentment so fast, lightening would feel slow. The people who develop an entitlement to your emotion and if you let them, to your being. If unwatched they may fill you with such self doubt and loathing that you will never move forward. The only answer for such people is to ask them to stick their opinions about you where the sun will never shine.

Next are the kind that get their heads in the clouds. The people who feel like they got ahead in life and no longer value or seek your company. I am certain that there are a number of individuals who are of the view that with growth there should be notable change in the company you keep. However, life been life tends to dish out quit a bit of karma. When the time at the top crushes down and you come tumbling. Word to the wise, its the same people you left at the bottom that you will expect to prop you up on your feet. Point is don't forget the people who helped you on your rise.

That being said, some friendships just come to a natural end. If you get to that point when you can neither enjoy the things that you did together nor find common ground to find joy in. this are the relationships that end with some, if not a lot of emotional pain. When you start to drift apart and none of you is willing to make an effort to keep the relationship going, then you need to accept that this friendship has for all intensive purposes served its purpose. When you cannot be there for each other at those times you need each other most, and the people around you change. That is a friendship that you can cherish for memory, but it serves both parties better is they willfully let go of each other.

Finally, are the friends who are as refreshing as sunshine. Those that brighten your life and offer a helping hand when you need one. The kind of friends who will give you the truth hard and bare when you need it. The kind who will have you back and not stab you in it. These are the rare birds, that if found should be dearly cherished. Important thing to not is that you need to reciprocate in equal measure. If not, then it will quickly fade into one of the relationships described above. I have been fortunate enough to have found someone that reliable and I do try my best to be as good as I can to them as they are to me. After seven years I admit she is extremely amazing company. May God bless her for it. {NAOMI}

 

burdens

poor deluded fellow,

you wanted power so much

you lost your head

lied that they loved you,

claimed that they wanted you

demanded that they have you

imposed that they love you

the burden of your hubris

you wanted power so much

that you grabbed it

left the world soaked red

your hands dripping with blood

your heart filled with hurt

that you smeared across the land

forced your “power” with a start

the burden of your hubris

you robbed the people of their land,

looted their funds

killed their sons

reaped their daughters

and still claimed they loved you

claimed that they would keep you

believed that they chose you

but in reality

they would kill you

for all the greed you reigned

on the innocent individuals

poor deluded soul,

sweet wine

Sweet cup of wine

numb my lips

numb my fingers

numb my thoughts

give me release

show me ease

sweet cup of wine

drecnh my tongue

quench my throat

give me escape

from the world so cold

Sweet cup of wine

lift my feet of the ground

feel me with a sweet sound

of the liberation

from the worries of this world

LONGING FOR DUSK

Juma sat at his desk, back upright, head bent, arms folded over stacks of papers. He was trying to look busy since all his colleagues seemed to be busy too. His desk was a mess; numerous efforts to keep it tidy had failed. Now he no longer had the spirit to try. He longed for dusk to come. The end of the day and the end to his torment.

He was tall, six foot-five and heavy set. The once joyful and vibrant face was now perpetually draped in fatigue. Disappointment does that to a man. He had been a dreamer once, jocular, jovial, and willing to paste a smile on every ones face. He had been warm, the life of the party. All that was left was a jaded silhouette gliding through the motions.

“JJ, boss wants to see you,” Kevin shouted over his shoulder as he went to his desk. Kevin was a fish, fresh out of water. He had the youth Juma wished he could get back. The pure optimism and raw excitement to face the world. The pleasant ignorance of youth that was forgivable. He knew little about life, about how it could turn on you.

“What's her mood like?” Juma inquired as he rose to go to the directors office.

“Dark skies an d thunderstorms.”

“That bad, I wonder what I could have done to make her so mad,” he responded, his statement dripping with sarcasm.

He shuffled to the director's office that was at the top of a flight of stairs. He did not bother to tick in his shirt or straighten his tie. His shoes were not polished and his shirt badly crumpled. The stench of alcohol hung heavily about him. He was a devastating sight.

A photograph of Juma, the director and the president hung on the wall at the landing on the staircase. A young Juma, spry and lively, beaming brightly at the camera. He had received a life time achievement award for having engineered several projects that helped schools and hospitals in semi-arid areas gain water and electricity and landed a contract that made the company more money than they ever believed was possible. That was one of his high moments. He paused, looked at it, sneered,grunted and shuffled on.

The director sat behind her desk. Her face, though deeply lined still had an essence of beauty about it. Her features were set sternly when she looked up. However, the sight of juma was pitiful and she could not help feel a little sorry for him. She knew what had caused the change in him. What had sent him in to despair. What had crushed his hope in humanity and drained his optimism in the world. It was her mistake, a mistake she deeply regretted.

“You have a mother's love, but you are over bearing on him; over protective.” a friend had once observed.

“ I only want what's best for him,” she had replied. She believed it at the time and new no better.

“ A mother's love can be all he needs, but if you are not careful, you will crush the poor fellow,” the friend had warned. This was just after she had come up with the idea to sabotage juma so that he would stay under her wing. The consequences however were more than she had bargained for. They were here with her now and she had to deal with them. She longed for dusk to come, to save her from her torment.

Juma stood just inside the office. He looked at her and felt searing loathing burn his insides. She tried to stare back but could not hold his gaze. Her eyes went back to the letter of complaint in her hand. The latest in a number of citations against juma. She hoped to have him working for her. But a demoralized, depressed and violent individual could hardly be termed as an asset. The board members were not pleased in the slightest. She took a breath and mastered her courage and tried to be stern again.

“ You were in a brawl again?” she said trying to keep her voice even.

“ I am always in a brawl, its my nature.”

“ You know its bad for us, for our donors. The contract states....”

“Forget what the contract states. I know it, I just don't care anymore,” he shouted back, his chest puffing with vehemence, fists tightly balled, eyes reddening with each breath. “They can't police me off the clock and neither can you. What I do on my own time is my own business, and you can't come after me for that. NKT! As if I haven't given enough of me to this retched company.”

A mixture of guilt and exasperation washed on to her face, and for a moment she look like she would give it all up and let him go. She clasped her hands together as she stared at him, all the while questioning her every emotion and instinct. She had been ruthless in her past. Pushed aside and trod over anyone she felt shew could get ahead of. Its the the nature of any entrepreneur of her age: to be cutthroat and selfish. However, with J.J. She had been dogged by her guilt but too pained to let him go. Now their every conversation seemed like walking on shards of glass.

“J.J., I only want what's best for you. I am watching out for you....”

“Really, like you were when you got me arrested, or turned me into the black ship of the industry. The one no one would touch, so that I would keep picking the scraps from you feet.”

Indignantly, she retorted slamming both palms on the face of her desk “You know better than that, you know all I did was to keep you out of prison after you marvelous misfortune was made public. You did that to yourself and I tried to save you...”

“Save that sacrosanct speech for someone who cares,” J.J. Cut her short, this time not shouting, but speaking softly and calmly.

She seemed a little pulsated by the change in his tone and softened a little bit herself. He was silent, and she felt it would be better if the silence hang for a moment or two longer. She studied the signs of depression that were manifest on him. The smell of alcohol and his disheveled look made her feel sorry for him.

“You know J.J., the board is tired of the complaints and they now want bite and not bark. They want to let you go.”

“It wouldn't be so bad, would it?” J.J. scowled as he turned to the door. They always ended up at this crossroads. His will too hardened to accept defeat, too bruised to focus clearly on what was at stake and too bitter to look past it. Her ego to delicate to accept defeat too. Her guilt too heavy to endure these confrontations. Their truce resolved when they went their separate ways.

“J.J. I know you do not believe me, but I care for you. I want you around and I am just trying to look out for you.”

“ You know Boss, even if I wanted too, I know too much. Only the dead keep secrets,” with that he was out of the door.

He went to his desk and sat staring at the mass of papers that lay there. He had the weeks quarter yet to be finished. He wanted to work but he had the strongest urge to have another beer. The entire office had their heads bowed, working or pretending to work on something. He looked them over, let his eyes fall to the papers again. The stash of beer he kept on the roof was so very tempting. It was kept for this purpose: quench his thirst when it grew and now it was pulsing.

He had spent fifteen minutes staring into dead space, contemplating his urge for the bottle and desire to get something accomplished soon. The will for the later was was waning quite fast. The increasing need to tend to the former unbearable. The inaudible whisper was now a resonating scream, deafening to his senses, screeching in his inner ear. He gave in and rose from his desk and headed for his stash.

It was barely noon but in Juma's world, it was never too early to have a drink. That morning, he had delude himself enough to believe that he could last through the day. How thoroughly misguided he had been. Now as he went up the service staircase he thought back on it and laughed out loud. He got to the top and found the caretaker trying to fix a leaking pipe. They exchanged grunts before Juma perched himself on a wicker chair and pulled out the six-pack from underneath it.



“J.J. Niaje kutoa lock saa hii.” the caretaker spoke over his shoulder. “Its early.”



“Not so early, besides I need to get to the end of this day quickly,”

hold hands

Let us just hold hands

Shhh! Don’t talk,

It will ruin the moment

At times like this,

Silence speaks best,

And our eyes,

 tell what our hearts habor

shh! Let us hold hand,

and share in our fond silence.

Let our unuttered words

Spark the mystery

That our hearts long for

Let our longing dance on our lips

But never beyond them

Let our passions flood our fingers

As we feel our palms

And the taste of touch lingers

Let us just hold hand,

Hold back the urge for the urgent kiss

For the warm embrace

For the sneaking caress

Let our lips desire more

Than our hearts could give

But please

Let us just hold hands

Let our eyes  sing ballads

As we dangle in each others gazes

Let our fingers entangle

To the rhythm of the tango

Of their own making

Let our palms send pulses

Of promises best kept silent

Lest fate make us diligent                      

Shhh! Bite back the urge to speak,

Let us savor eternity

In this knowing silence

Enjoy our fading essence

And smile at our secret message

Darling

Let us hold hands

And walk in to the sunset

Your head on my shoulder

And make a prayer

On what our lives may become

Let us just hold hands

they said

They said the rain would fall
yes, they said the rain would fall
so we gathered all containers-
pots and pans, buckets and basins
drums and jericans
and set them under the rafters
Waiting and waiting.....
In the hope that it would rain
and we would harvest water
 
They said it would rain,
and we waited for the rain.

They said it would rain,
Yes, they said it would rain
so we fixed our roofs,
repaired the patches that still were....
Leaving one hole (to provide proof)
and sat waiting....
remenicing the last rains
\
They said it would rain,
Promised hail and storms,
floods and doom
So we prepared to dress warm-
in our tattered sweaters
and sun bleached jackets
we waited...
And one day it fell,
Yes, it fell
A flimsy, flimsy drizzle
That came and went
with a passing cloud,
After we had hoed the fields
and planted seed
we waited and hoped for more
They did say it would rain,
Didn't they?

muiruri

His hands were shaking, not as a result of fear but as a result of guilt. His father had once told him that there was no greater burden to the soul as that of a truth gnawing at ones conscience. He trusted his father for he was the kind of man to know. Sitting there, the truth was not just gnawing, it was gobbling at his insides. Biting down and ripping apart his core and making mince of him.

“I can’t hide it.”

“What was that, sir?”

It’s not right; I can’t keep it hidden forever,”

“Sorry sir, I didn’t catch that,”

He looked up catching a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. He looked pale, precipitation glistening on his forehead and his eyes were bloodshot. His collar was drenched in sweat. He had all the symptom of one who had been sleep depraved for a long time.  For a moment he did not recognize the image that looked back at him. He then tried to shift his focus to the driver but all he managed was a more dazed look.

“Excuse me sir, are you okay?” the taxi drivers voice came, seeming as though it drifted from some distant place.

“Ah! Umm  ye….yes, I am,” he responded. But his voice felt a bit surreal too. He cleared his throat but it brought him no relief.

The driver, having pulled up at a red light, shifted a bit in his seat to give his client a better look. His facial features seemed quite inquisitive, as though he might pry. He began to speak, paused, gave his client on last look then turned to look ahead. He let a few matatus swerve by and before he eased his foot off the brake.  He took a few turns before he turned into the hotel parking lot. The valet ushered him to an ideal parking spot.

“Sir, “he said quite formally, “we are here”

Muiruri looked up again, a bit dazed by the statement then looked around as if gaining his bearings again. He slipped a handkerchief from his coat’s breast pocket and mopped his face.

“Sir, the fare. You did ask me to get you to The Hilton, we are here,” the driver added looking at him through the rear view mirror.

Muiruri nodded, recognizing were he was for the first time during that entire day, he dipped his hand into his coat pocket, fished out a rather thick wad of notes, and passed them to the driver. He ignored the drivers puzzled look as he got out of the care and tried to straighten his tie.

“sir, my fare was only two thousand shilling. The extra cash is unnecessary,” the driver said as he handed him the extra money. “Free advice, get whatever is drowning your conscience out before it drowns you too, and get some rest too.

Muiruri stood, taken aback, not by the man’s blunt truth, but by his honesty. It was as impossible to find an honest taxi driver in Nairobi as it was to find a leper in parliament. He watched with a mixture of envy and amazement as the driver pulled out of the parking spot and drove off. Would he ever be so unburdened in his entire life? He seriously doubted it.

He turned to face the entrance. For a split second, he mulled the idea of walking in the opposite direction.  Perhaps even walking to the ends of the earth, but his resolve would fail him. That was the only thing he was always certain of. Precipitation was thick on his face, and his throat feeling a lot drier than the Sahara. He tugged at his collar and swallowed hard. “What was it that would put him down first?”  he wondered.

As soon as he walked in to the lobby, he saw her. Elegantly dressed in a rather fetching skirt suit that emphasized her long, shapely legs. She had a very business like air about her. That was rather deceptive given that she was shrewd as she was seductive, both in the high extremes. She had said her name was Amanda, though he doubted it deeply at the moment.

“I was beginning to think you had grown a conscience,” she said, standing up and giving a him a short, curt shake. “You look like hell by the way, and smell of it too.”

“Now you pretend to care you little bitch.” He felt the rage in him froth and hit the brim of heart. He detested the fact that she was right. He did have the smell of sweat and beer linger heavily around him  

“Careful now, I am the one with all the cards, and you are the one standing with your pants down. You ought to have known better, being a veteran at this.”

Again, she was right. He should have been wiser than to trust her. Wiser not to jump into bed with her, while he was married. And wiser not to have made the world and the moon of her every word. Now all he was, all he could be was done for. He bit his lower lip just at the mere thought that he had been played and had spilled all his beans for the world to see.

“Let us get some place more private, the cafeteria perhaps, “she said, not so much as a suggestion but a command. He watched her walk ahead of him and thought of all sorts of ungodly things he would have done to her earlier. Before they were pleasurable, right now, he wished he could hurt her. He felt worse when he noted that he still admired her body. Doubly worse when remembered she had every intention of throwing him under the bus and putting it in gear.

As they walked in, he saw his wife seated at on of the table at the back. Her facial features stern. Her demeanor composed but her eyes ablaze. His throat clumped up as he discovered his little bag of secrets had begun to leak. Amanda gave him a devilish simile. She was enjoying every bit of this. Muiruri let his gaze fall to the floor. He had been thoroughly ungrateful towards her, he supposed he had lost her this time. She would bear all his flaws and follies, however, she would never condone infidelity. Not once. Her promise to destroy him if she ever caught a whiff of it had been as clear as day. No idle threats came from her, and now, with Amanda, this was Armageddon.