Celebrating East African Writing!
Paul read the message again and again. Could this be a trick? Paul had to live in Mukuru slums when he finished college to cut down his expenses and operate a bar without worrying about the license.
He had met her three years back when she was sweet sixteen, and with a few nice shoes and niceties he had won her cheap love. With his tender care she blossomed into a beauty with curves in the right places. He dressed up and hurried towards ‘Laving ton’ as he normally called the area she lived because of the ever green tree near there and numerous TV antennae.
‘I have a few minutes to live, come immediately my lost love’, the message said.
The door to her place was open .He got in and thanks to illegal power connections the lights were on. He looked around but all he saw was note and beside it a photo album. He dialed her number but all he got was ‘Mteja wa nambari unayopiga hapatikani kwa sasa.’
He picked up the photo album and before him was the evidence of the sweet moments they shared which turned sour when she got pregnant. To him she was an entertainment kit and nothing more. He took the note and as he began to read it, the joy he had when Spain had won the world cup evaporated. He was shaken. He didn’t notice tears falling from his eyes onto the same spots where her tears had wet the writing pad.
DEAR PAUL ………THE LOVE OF MY SOUL
My life was sweet with you around
You lit the end of my tunnel and gave me a reason to live
Now like a passing storm you are gone
Gone to younger arms
You sowed your seeds in my young womb and left
All the sweet names you called me now gone to her
Do you think I can live any more?
Do you think I can watch the fruit of my womb swim in the sewage?
We had dreams to cross Uhuru highway
Questions are more than answers my love
You were all the family I had
Aids took the others away and a woman took you away from my arms
My life is empty…so empty
I have to join them
Maybe they will love me better
And I hope God will accept my soul
It is all I can do to fill the void
If you find me gone, my body will be under the bed
If you can, bury my body
If you can’t, the police will
I loved you in life Paul
And in death I will love you more
Let me die now
I will miss you love.
HARRIET – Your ever loving love.
Paul knelt down and under the bed was Harriet’s dead body. He collapsed and fainted.
If you would like this piece to be the Story of the Week, please vote below on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being weak, and 10 being excellent. The numbers will be tallied on Friday and the story with the highest figure shall be Crowned Story of the Week. Be sure to fill in your name and verifiable email. You can include your critique/comment after the vote.