Nòî

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On another episode of: things that never happened, or did they? Saturday or Sunday, many many many moons ago. I used to go to the bafu na towel pekee always wondering how women always walked around in skirts. So after showering it was free mode mpaka kejani. Kwa buloti, it was a communal bathroom so you had to carry your bucket. Na ukipata mtu yuko ndani, unapanga laini. On this particular day nilikuwa nimechemsha maji niko ready kuingia kwa bafu, jirani beat me to the bathroom by seconds. I left my bucket full of warm water hapo nikiwa frustrated then nikaingia kejani kutime akitoka, naruka ndani. Asubuhi gets chilly so you can't just hang around there waiting ukiwa kifua iko nje, umejifunga towel pekee. Akamaliza nikaskia mlango yake imefunga, nikakimbia bafu fasta fasta maji yangu isipoe, ingepoa ingekuwa balaa. Kumbe she was not yet done, alikua ameacha karai yake na maji hapo ndani arudi kuosha kifuniko. Mimi naye nokatoa hio basin nje nikaingia kwa bafu, this is not ...

Thoughts on (The Catcher in the Rye)

                         It's a classic but with a heavy dose of notoriety within American culture considering the period it was published. You can Google or ChatGPT the controversies around it. 


I had my own share of its intrigue when I first came across it, way back on campus. I still remember that encounter quite vividly like it was yesterday. There were the three of us around a table having some drinks after a difficult CAT. Sharing the table was my room mate, best friend. I will call him Y. To complete the table was X, a mutual lady friend whom I perceived to be a deep thinker. 


Lying on the table was a collection of three books Y had just acquired to dilute the stress of academic reading. The first book was The Fountainhead. That's the first time I knew Ayn Rand was a lady and not a man. I can't seem to recall the second book but the top one was definitely, The Catcher in the Rye.




Y was more into philosophy, while X was more into life's intrigues. I was into Greek stuff but we all read anything that sounded remotely interesting. As we talked about everything and nothing in particular, M a campus chain smoker passed by our table on his way to the counter to fetch more cigarettes from Joe, a very jovial proprietor of the establishment who also doubled up as the counter guy/waiter. 


I was sad to hear that he passed on years later.


On his way back, M takes a quick glance at the cover and mutters 


“I hear that people who read that book,

always end up,

committing suicide.”


as he quickly moves away to light his cigarette. Almost immediately we stare at each other as if saying 


“in that case we will damn read it.” 


We fight over who is going to go first but I can't remember in which order we read it. Nothing major or eventful in the book but you realize the main character sees life in a much deeper way. Yes, stories that seem to head nowhere in particular. He is narrating the story from some kind of psychiatric facility or similar place.


A troubled mind who is either having delusions about life or the rest of humanity is living on a false premise or both. In all these, he is the Catcher in the Rye or that's what he would like to be. Not a large book but you still need to have a great deal of patience to read it through. 


Fast forward many years later, Y commits suicide. Not only does he unalive himself, he wipes away his entire family. Difficult moments because I knew his wife and kids very well. Among the books that the media sensationalized as being in his possession was 

“The Fountain Head.”

No mention of the Catcher in the Rye.

Memories suddenly took me back to that sitting. You never forget some things. So I start looking for X whom I have previously been bumping into once in a while but now I can’t seem to find her. 


We didn't share contacts. 

“Hi.” 

was always just enough, until the next unplanned meeting. 


For days, weeks, months and years, I couldn't trace her. It's like she just vanished from the face of the earth. To date I still wonder whether she is still alive but one thing I know, I am still here and I still keep a copy of The Catcher in the Rye in my library hoping to reread it in my twilight.


Miliki.

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