Dame wa Kichinjio

The other day as you were walking through town minding your own thoughts, your eyes seemed to follow the deriere of some lady who was ahead of you. You had trailed behind her for a while. As you were about to take a right turn and cross the road, some person went and called her dame wa kichinjio.

It was definite that she was agitated and sneered at the remarks. It looked like the guy who made the remarks knew her. Then it takes you back to the days. Days when you had not been stranger to the dark. Hideaway your emotions they said, cause they did not want to see your broken parts. You’re afraid that they would be ashamed once they saw your scars. The one person you opened your heart to, ran away. Hence you were convinced that no one would love you the way you are. A million dreams was all it got to take, for a million dreams, for the world you thought you would make with her.

You remove your airpods and look left, right, then left again and cross the road. Your mind wanders off again like it normally does. You have been the one to always have short attention spans. When she left, you had a meeting with yourself. Brought out tea and served it to yourself. Heck that meeting you had with yourself while taking tea, even that tea needed to take tea for the decisions you were about to make that would later alter the course of the stars.

You walk ahead and stare at nothing in particular. You put back your airpods and there is a song playing. It’s pombe sigara. You hum at first and then sang slightly, “pombe, sigara, waeza wacha bila kung’ang’ana. Lakini hawa wasichana, vile unawapenda ni kama laana.” This song takes you down along memory lane as you enter Art Cafe. You sit down and take out your laptop from your bag. The waiter comes and you order Expresso and some samosas.

It takes you back to the summer of 2017. The tempo of the city approached hysteria. Stocks with betting companies reached record peaks. And the betting market boomed in a steady golden roar. The parties were bigger, the concerts broader, buildings higher, morals became looser and the ban on alcohol was less effective making liqor cheaper.

Back then all of the people in the city drunk too much. The more in tune with times you were, the more you drunk. And none of you contributed anything new. The alure of the city was promising and drew you in like many other lads who were in their twenties. Then you met her, while you had gone into one of those posh clubs to give thanks to your body. There was a sensitivity about her. She was like on of those machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. Her name was Gael. You liked every bit of her. To you Gael was not like every other random Mary you’d meet on the streets.

Gael was an enigma of some sort. She was the life of the party. She brought out that wild side in you. You had always been a wild one and loved risking things. But there was that part you had never discovered and she brought it out from you perfectly.

She was a mechatronics engineer in some oil company. She challenged you in all aspects of life. You liked how she was power hungry. It was the sole reason that had made you date her. She was ruthless in the corporate world. A force to reckon with. While you on the other hand were still trying to figure out this adult thing. She allowed you to see her soft spot. A spot which she always guarded jealously. She was like a flower with sweet fragrance.

You dated her cause of the gains you’d make just by association. Things opened up. You got good deals. It is true that you never opened your heart to her. You were comfortable with how things were. Comfort was the enemy of progress to her. She understood just by associating with you would cost her lots of things. It would cost her a lot more than that. She would be risking everything, but on the other hand she would find herself a free woman. Free from the ramshackles of being a loner. You offered her freedom.

Freedom came at a cost. While she wanted something stable, you were busy dundaing out there with some random chick. You’d normally text and tell her that you were out with the boys. You made her feel loved yet at the same time made her feel like she was in a competition with all those other farm tools you were shagging around. You did not dare leave her cause of the deals she’d throw your way. The company you had recently opened up was picking well.

One day she caught you pants down. You didn’t quite really care, since things were good on your side. You had found that financial footing. You decided that she had outlived her use and there was no importance of her anymore.
She just stood there shell shocked for a moment, then asked you, “is this really how you would like to spend your days? Whiskey misery, party and plays, and sex from random women? Don’t I offer you deals? Don’t I give you mind blowing sex and earth shattering orgasms? Or am I just another dame wa kichinjio?” After that she left. You didn’t here a word from her.

The waiter startles you as she places down the Expresso and samos you ordered. “Enjoy sir.” She says as she flashed a smile to you.


You sip your Expresso and wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t treated the mechatronics engineer as a dame wa kichinjio.

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