Letstoriesunfold ™

New month, new day, but najua mmeamka na hasira mbaya sana. Inaeleweka, how much tolerance for lies can people handle? Nilikuwa nikuwe on a break from storytelling, chanting viva with my comrades in the streets, inhaling the price of freedom, aka teargas. It all started with rejecting the finance bill, arrogance pushed some to be in denial, while others tried squashing it with gaslighting but it has now evolved, now the ones who were chest-thumping, arrogant, are squirming in the seats. Yesterday evening, took me way back.  Pulled a memory deep from my subconscious. Hayaa, the story goes like this. Many, many moons ago, I was in primary with this ninja, scruffy-looking, short dude. He was in all sorts of mischief but one thing that stood out from him was his tenacity to spin a lie. Damn!  That ninja could lie while looking at you dead straight in your eye without skipping a heartbeat. I thought I would have met the last of people who could lie shamelessly like that, life could...

From the creator of 👻Booo👻 , Wanjiru the Storyteller, & Letstoriesunfold bring you the continuation. Normally, how I walk to my place after work is the same as how someone pressed to use the washroom moves. That evening, I kid you not, I walked all the way to my place with a bounce in my step, and giddy like a six-year-old girl. The way I waited, even after drying off, freshening up, in pajamas munching on something to quiet the hunger pangs. There was no text, not even a missed call in the morning even after dozing off on the bed with the phone in my hand waiting. The crazy part about adulting is that you do not have time to brood over such things.  Preparing and going to work while thoughts were turning in my head on what I had done, or not done, to scare him away. The day dragged itself slowly, time slowly ticking towards the end of my shift. I had accepted what I saw as reality, that it was, what it was. Coming to terms with it, as they say.  Let me tell you, no wors...

   👻 booo! 👻 Ghafla bin vuu,  mvua When boarding this matatu, the tout said to me sweetly  “mrembo, wee kaa starehe hapa kwa kiti yangu, nitakaa mbele.” I think, oh well, why not, how kind sir. I shut my umbrella and get in and he closes the door, again and I think, how chivalrous. Little by little, water starts trickling and then pours on my left side, and now I think, how cunning. The lady infront of me has her umbrella strategically placed to cover her left leg. There's a drenched gentleman at the back who's been yelling profanities I cannot say. Do I say, when it rains it pours.  As the memory played in my head, I realized your life can change in a snap, like Nairobi weather.  Here I was, past the talking stage, in the we doing this stage in a relationship with someone's son. Who I couldn't have met if it wasn't for the cards that had been played by fate that day, the tout offering me his seat, me being drenched by the water trickling in little by li...