The Eighth

He asked me to promise him I wouldn’t cry, I don’t make promises I can’t keep so I told him I would try and changed the subject. We said our goodnights and I hang up the phone, and then I curled myself into a ball and cried my heart out like it was the last day on earth.

No, he hadn’t broken my heart; he hadn’t even been the bearer of bad news, and yes according to him I was still the apple of his eye. Cheesy no? Anyway, my crying had nothing to do with him. Well, not in that sense anyway. It kind of had something to do with him, and the fact that he knew I was probably going to cry proved just how much he knew me and that fact did not help matters. So I opened the flood gates and cried until my poor little heart had had its fill.

I was sick; don’t judge, I’m not a wuss. I don’t normally cry when I’m sick. Here I was, sick and lonely, far from home, friends and family, Surrounded by people who did not acknowledge my existence leave alone my sickness. My teachers in college could not stress this point enough. Pain is subjective. Just because he/she looks and acts ok, doesn’t main that his/her pain is nonexistent. So by now, you should understand why a phone call from that particular person would have me in tears. Wuss? I wouldn’t care less. I think at some point, a girl is allowed her tears. That being said, I think the person that came up with long distance relationships should be put in a box, have it dropped into the deepest sea and then have the keys melted into something more useful to the world. Too harsh? Why do I feel unapologetic?

Malaria is a bitch people, it’s worse than karma. It makes your head pound, leaves you feeling like a rock band is constantly drumming in your head all with malicious intent. It leaves your mouth tasting like you chewed onto some unnamed metal. It gives you chills and a fever that gives the so much talked about menopausal hot flushes a ran for its money. It takes your appetite and throws it out to the dogs. Did I mention the joint and muscle pain? That’s also part of the so well crafted package. It is relentless, it leaves you no peace. And as if that was not enough, it is also the number five killer disease in Kenya according to center for disease control. Maybe that is why next time you land on a “tuangamize malaria” campaign ad on YouTube, you shouldn’t be so fast to click on skip ad.

So now you all know that I cry. That this strong face is just that, a strong face. Well that’s beside the point, this post is not about how strong (or not strong) I am. Sorry if I had you confused, it is not about malaria either although malaria is a real killer. Maybe you should actually take a minute and think about what you and the next person are doing to “Angamiza” it. Maybe you should plant a neem tree, get rid of stagnant water around you, buy your family nets and mosquito repellent. Here I go again get distracted, forgive me,I get passionate about stuff, and then I get carried away.(I hope you can forgive me given that I haven’t written for so long, I must have forgotten how it’s done.)

Let’s get back to the main point of this post. This post is for Him: He who made that call that left me in tears. He who holds my hand in the dark and makes it ok for me to face my uncertain future. He who says it’s ok for me to cry, that I don’t need to be strong all the time. He who loves me good and bad, he who pisses me off it makes me want to scream, yet he who makes me so happy I could burst. I could go on and on but all I wanted to do was to tell him thank you. Thank you for being there, thank you for being patient. Thank you for being you. Happy 8th. It’s not always been roses and sunshine, it’s been thorns and rain too. It’s been a journey, that’s been a blessing.

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