See
I am out here, frozen
Shivering, whimpering, whispering
Asking for a little warmth
Afraid to step in
See
I have been burned before
The scars are still sore
The pain fresh where it tore
My heart from its door
See
I really want to belong
I really hope it won’t be long
Before I start to feel strong
And… God I hope I am not wrong
See
I am a lad that needs convincing
You are a lass that needs persuading
Both our hearts are a little fleeting
But both require healing
Expectation is the hurricane that will touch and break the tree- Jean Rhys
I was in an entanglement before Jada so aptly named it. Truth is I had no idea what it was or why it was happening. It broke me, not the realization that I meant nothing, no. What broke me was the expectation, the hope that it would mean something more than mere body-count. I should have been cautious, tempered myself.
Here is how it started. COVID 19 lockdowns and no job to focus on had me going up the walls with anxiety depression and all forms of toxic mentality known to man. (Believe me, there are many). In that mesh of darkness. I was tired of being by myself mentally, emotionally even spiritually. I was lost an in dire need of help. Then came the light.
Do ever open up to a person so much you start to doubt your sanity. (Sigh!) I must have really been stupid, I swear. Anyway, they came in, gave reassurance, gave warmth, and gave love. Hell they even gave themselves. Like a life raft in the deep sea, I hoped upon that wagon fast. They became the one thing to look forward to. Quick replies. Someone asking how you are doing and genuinely interested in the answer. Then the promise and assurances get sweeter. And you want more. Who wouldn’t want more?
I swear it had been too long since I felt this good and safe with another human being. Texts keep going back and forth. Nudes exchanged, unsolicited. Flirting is hot and steamy. Everything is perfect, right? I even started to picture life as a couple. Maybe even changing my faith. I am by no means a good Christian. For this, I would change. Expectations, huh!
Then we meet up and go to pound town. The pleasurable entanglement of bodies, discovering each other and all there is to please each other. Then the pleasure keeps increasing. Texts go up to phone calls. It is great. I actually laughed at guys moaning about dry-spells on Twitter while I was getting serviced like a royal’s Bentley. Expectation arrives, telling me to hope for more. Let my final guards down. To relax and enjoy the ride.
BOOM! The hurricane comes. Texts go unanswered. No more concern or love or even after thoughts about you. The lockdown was lifted and so were you feeling and lies you were told.
“You said you would always be here for me,” I ask
“I am. It’s just that I am busy. Dealing with a lot.”
Then the warm soothing light that you cherished vanishes. Replaced by a frozen soulless polar bear from the North Pole. Foul, hateful, vengeful. Tearing at your weaknesses. Ridiculing you for being weak. You hate yourself for having opened up to them. You start to question everything they told you.
BOOM! IF I EVER OPENED UP TO YOU, I WAS JOKING.
WTF. I thought we were real. I won’t even say I was shattered. Still am. I hated myself for trusting. For expecting trust in return. I wanted to be more than just our bodies.
Now the ghosts and insecurities start looming. I don’t want to blame them, however if I have lost all I need to protect. Best solutions ends up with me burying myself under a mountain of bodies. Debasing myself so that I don’t feel too bad about being used. I am worthless after all. Then there are the fears of what they will do with the rest of the information they have about me. Am I even safe anymore?
Sadly, that is all there was to it. Lies and pretense. Then the scare of the century. You see the screenshots of guys boasting about spreading HIV/AIDS. And remembering how you whispered to each other. Telling each other how tantalizing the sex was when it was raw. Eyes closed. Fervent prayers uttered. Let me be wrong about this.
Weeks later we meet. There is the feigned pretense at having forgotten what was said. After bearing with the translucent lies, you confront them. The usual excuses.
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
My eyes are blank. The soul within is dead. I can’t look at them anymore. All I really want to do is spread the punishment. Make the next person feel as worthless, as useless as disposable as I do. I expect nothing but pain now. Either COVID 19 gets me, or life does. Expectations crush you. Hope crushes you.
I am certain I am not the only person who misses X Fm. The twenty four hour rock station that soothed a lot of us through the ups and downs that is this life. It addressed all the things we loved and cherished. Then sometime last year it was decided that it would be shut down for more mundane options. What was not to love about X FM?
Ever since X FM changed their name and playlists to god knows what, I have been lost. I turn on the radio and I can’t listen to a single station for more than five minutes. There hundreds of stations but not one I can listen to. No smooth or indie/alternative or old school rock variety that makes sense. The uninterrupted hours of music that was ideal for study or work was a welcome touch.
Then quarter after laughter. I lived for the humour, especially in the evening after having a very long day. I liked the morning versions too, the fact that you could get a laugh before the grind was energizing. Speaking of mornings, The Rude Awakening and X FM breakfast were a refreshing take from the oversexed radio that was full of negative energy. It was the station that put a spring in your step as you went to conquer the world.
I also miss connect four at four. This show helped me appreciate the deep knowledge Kenyans had about rock. It was also the perfect wind down music at the end of the day. That and the playlists at seven with amazing countdowns. Just some of the many gems that made X FM amazing.
Why was it shut down? What replaced it? A replica of classic FM, playing the very same music with absolutely no sense for market segmentation or variety. That is the most frustrating thing about Kenyan radio. It is all broken down into 3 broad segments
1. The shady
Traditional/ vernacular stations that appeal to the “shagsmondo” and tribally inclined. I am not entirely against them because they do help propagate culture to future generations. However, they are also know to push for division and tribal conflict since they are largely unregulated. They have been known to spread hate speech especially during times of political turmoil. I however do not give them the time of day because I can hardly speak an vernacular. ( shh, I can hear the judgment.)
Also here, are the Swahili stations that will carter to the rural and bottom tear markets. Remember, the bottom of the pyramid is the widest, and as much as Kenyans want to pretend, a lot of them are shady, that’s why a lot of trends appeal to that crowd. It is for this reason that Patanisho is one of the most popular shows on Radio. Before anyone says anything I am not raining on anyone’s parade. Your tests and preferences are your own.
2. Old school
Leader of the pack here is/was classic FM. Then the annoying replica that now holds 105.5, and so many other that are only fun to listen to for nostalgias sake. I don’t really mind them. However there is only so much of old school music that can be entertaining without getting fatigued. I don’t enjoy these stations so I will not say much about them.
3. Hype stations
Include Kiss, Capital, Homeboys and NRG and a host of other I haven’t been able to enjoy. They are dominated by more talk than music because of marketing goals. Capital has The Fuse, but that is too short a session for people used to 24 hour of beautiful rock music. Not throwing shade at anyone.
I only wish that X FM could be put back on air. I wish we, the listeners had an opportunity to guide programmer on what we wished to hear. It suck to be boxed in by both T.V. and radio. When X FM was that reprieve, the world was a much brighter place. That I know for sure.
RIP to the best station on Kenyan airwaves.
