Waswa

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 In my days of service I had this friend called Waswa. He was way older than me, like 3 years older but tulikua tume enlist na yeye and we found ourselves sharing a barrack cube. Tulikua 4 in 1 cube. One night while we were off duty, he told me why he joined the military. Waswa was in JKUAT, Juja campus, and he was having some sort of entanglement with his schoolmate, a pretty petite lass called Syombua.  Our boy Waswa was the one visiting her because he was in a shared hostel. Waswa’s pretty lass, Syombua, lived in Weiteithie, in a well furnished apartment. Their relationship was like 3 or 4 months old but Waswa had received all sorts of treatment. From slices to the other slices, I know you know, and if you don't, jokes on you.  Kijana in his mind assumed that the lady came from a seriously loaded family. Makosaa. Sasa one Friday Waswa as usual goes for a sleepover knowing atakula vizuri pande zote. They enjoy the night and netflix as usual until they heard, “Fungua hap...
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Absurdity of it

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                 I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us


Can we play a little? I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. How many of you have asked yourself this? 

“Am I actually doing the right thing?”

“Is this story worth telling?”

I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy piece.

 

I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote. 


One thing is for sure, the longer I lingered on it, the more absurd it became. It may not be about being serious, or life was more about learning to laugh at your own emotional, and physical roller coasters, turning them into punchlines no one saw coming. There I was, pondering if this story would ever have an ending worth remembering. 


But here was the catch—just when I thought I had finally figured it out, the plot always twisted in ways I did not expect. When I thought I could embrace the chaos, it threw me another curveball—life’s own way of saying 

“Not so fast.” 

It's funny, isn't it? 


The moment you think you have cracked the code, life hits you with a plot twist you never even rehearsed for. And there I was, standing between what I expected and what actually was. 

The absurdity of it all? 

Maybe that’s the punchline.

Maybe I'll finish drafting the story, edit it, and submit it to the writing contest. Perhaps the story will wow the judging panel, and I'll win the contest, or I may not win the contest Either way, it is going to unlock infinite opportunities to hear and experience different angles to different stories. 

Or perhaps, 

the story is just beginning. 

Who knows? 

Maybe it’s meant to keep unfolding.


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Is a pleasure to keep you as my reader entertained. Peace✌️

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