If you ever complimented me on the cologne I was using during my firsts semester on campus, I’d like to take this chance to invite you to my next doctor’s appointment before the year 2017 ends. Because you, my friend, are a liar. And so is your nose. Your sense of scent is balancing on two shaky legs and dancing in reverse into the deepest abyss of hell at a speed that not even your pastor can control. The kind of ignorance your nose has, has no place in the table that the good Lord has prepared for us in 2018. Otherwise, how would you have allowed me to use a god damned air freshener for a cologne and only realize that 5 years later?
Kwani when you love the lord, you let your neighbor walk around wearing air freshener as cologne for a whole damn semester? All the time, complementing her. I mean, none of you ever felt I smelled like a house? The worst part of it is that I had eight roommates at the time, two of whom, had already made it in life. By making it, I mean they had climbed up the stairs and made out with Nokia Lumia while the rest of us were at the basement still shaking hands with Lumia’s rather skinny sister, Nokia Asha. How could you guys, with your Nokia Lumia that made me despise myself still manage to let me make a fool of myself in such a despicable manner? Never mind, it is too late now and I already bought my tickets to planet Pluto. Huku hakukaliki.
Also, before I leave, my small bro joined Facebook a few weeks ago. Ever since he did, peace in our household has become a thing of the past. Everyone in the village now knows Jonte amesija Facebook and the next most likely thing is, he will go to Nairobi. Isn’t that where people go after completing form four in Kenya? My people, it is a sad affair. But if I cringe that much when I look back at my old pictures and see acne flashing a toothy smile at me, how much more will he be cringing at the xaxa xema crapola he keeps posting on his wall? I can hardly finish reading a sentence of his posts before shaking my head and moving on to the next sensible thing on my news feed. You know, uncle Facebook never forgets. He knows when to dredge up ugly dirt from your past, cringe-worthy pics of your face filled with acne that had refused to respond to your vegan diet and kindly ask you if you want to share that memory on your wall.
I cannot wait to see him look back at his first posts and wonder the name of the demon that had sunk its teeth so hard into his bum to make him post such crap. I cannot wait for him to want to clean his old photos with Jik, the blood of Christ and any other detergent that kills 99.9% of germs. Seriously guys, I look forward to walking him through the self-loathing that engulfs each of us when Facebook brings up stuff from your past that you have no business remembering at this time in your life when God has sprinkled you with Royco and mariandazi and you are possessing that healthy glow that only money and a few other pleasantries can give.
I would have enjoyed telling you that I will never forgive you all for deceiving me but on second thought, January is coming soon. And January does not have a comely face. January does not balance carefully on raised shoes. It shows no fear nor favor. January will be punishment enough for you guys. It will slap you so hard with poverty and kick you severally in the crotch for lying to me. Before it leaves, it will perform all kinds of ritualistic dances around you till you are too dizzy by the time February will be getting around. Yet, do not be alarmed, you will survive. Isn’t that what you and I have been doing all our lives? Surviving?
If I had the time, I’d have narrated to you guys all my embarrassing narratives of 2017 but you just might decide to love me less if I did that. So I will just stop here and go eat the mandazi that remained on Christmas but stay knowing that God always gives us sugar to go with the vinegar. He will do just that in 2018.
See you next year. And I promise to write more often in 2018. For riri.