OUR DICTIONARY, OUR STORY

(Written for Flashpoint pullout, Moi University. IT'S JUST ART!)

ARRESTING is what you looked that first moment I beheld your sight; and I couldn’t help saying “Ameiva”. I bit my ‘F’ finger over somebody for the first time in eons.

BREATHLESS is what I said you were leaving me, for you are always dressed to kill, I think even when you are in your birthday suit. 

CHIVALRY is the strategy I decided to use; for fear I might lose you before I even got you. I shed my bad boy cocoon and reincarnated into a most gentlemanly fellow. Your hostel might never see a more chivalrous me again.

DON’T! is the harsh word you threw at me that first day I tried to hug you – and, my, it hurt. I learnt the hard way that your no means no. Principled lady. But I stayed on, a hustler as I am.

EXPECTANT is what I became, as I waited for you to ‘digest my proposal’ and be my one and only.

FOGGY were my days before you accepted me; and you don’t know how many prayers I made at the Chaplaincy, asking for divine intervention.

GLOOMY were my nights as I waited; I daydreamt in lecture rooms . . .

HURT would sure be my other name if you rejected me. ‘Usinikatae utaniumiza’ became my most listened to track. 

INFORM me please, why did you make my frail heart suffer so?

JEEZ, I had never kowtowed so submissively before a lady.

KNEAD my emotions you did: when you couldn’t SMS me back, when you couldn’t pick my calls, when you couldn’t accept my Facebook friend request . . . 

LITTLE did I know that you were gauging my resilience. For four long weeks.

MA’AM, why did you test my patience so painstakingly? Why such a tough exam?

NOUGHTS upon noughts are what I think I scored. Did I pass really?

OSTENSIBLY, as you usually say, I passed. No sup. My transcript! My transcript! Give me my transcript!

PAP! Then came the evening you called me to your room. Need I say I was taken aback, wowed, confused?

QUIETLY, I came, expecting anything. Pussy footing. The Thursday had after all been harassing during the day.

RICH was the food you had cooked (I again say you are a superb cook), and warm were your smiles; which made the dish a feast, then . . . 

SHRED not my heart is what I remember you saying, as you threw yourself in my arms. I melted.

TATTOO is the only word that can describe how my heart beat then: it was beating a tattoo. I couldn’t believe I was the one hugging such a Miss Kenya.

UNMATCHED was my happiness, as I asserted that I would always be faithful, gentle, caring, loving. Never mind I was half conscious.

VALENTINE’S DAY was just the following weekend, remember? I felt good, oh, so good.

WOW, I boasted to my boys later on, I have found the one!

XOXO, which stands for hugs and kisses, is our language; not just on SMS or Facebook inbox but also in practice. Btw, XJXJ ma luv.

YUMMY is your tender love, two years down the line and still counting.

ZEST is all I want to have; zest in our bond. Zest till the day we’ll walk down the aisle and explore the life beyond; and live happily thereafter like the soap opera stars you revere.