I see the rain, and a car full of people, and suppressed tears in the corners of my eyes. "You will come back," she whispers kindly, and deep in my heart, I know I will.

She jokes with me as she cuts your birthday cake, days after my return. We cheer to a great year ahead... a year full of surprises.

We share an unexpected work trip, some eight hours in a bus that feel like a lifetime. You tell me your breakup news and I share the pain of being cheated on. We visit the city slums and a local jail. It rains heavily and we are stuck in a shady eatery, talking for hours. The labyrinth of gardens leads us to an old coffee mill, plants growing on top of it. A kiss turns into laughter as a group of tourists walks into sight, observing us, not the mill.

How is she, I ask you a couple of days after the accident. "Why don't you check for yourself?" As I am waiting in line for the plane, I finally get the courage to do so. I hear her voice going weak as I make that morning phone call to the hospital. "I'm about to go into surgery," she says quietly, and although she's trying hard to suppress them, I can hear her tears.

I can't stop feeling resentment for my actions. I can't help but feel that even this physical pain she's enduring is somehow my fault.

Masking my heartache, I ask you to be with her. "She really needs you at such a time," I whisper. "I really need you at such a time," you reply stubbornly. I nod in disagreement.

I hear my phone beep one morning as I sit by the Nile, one week till I see you again, one week before there is no more 'us'.

"How I wish to be the one who completes you."

I put the phone aside and dip my feet in the water. No one here can see me cry.

Image credit: Elizabeth May


In the backroads of my mind, where gravel meets the fallen leaves in a gentle touch, you are lost somewhere in between the windy sky and the earth, moist from the rainy yesterday. You are holding my hand in a sweet attempt to keep it warm. Who are you?

I know this is silly, a digitalized feeling of a sort, a quick note in my phone, one of many saved during countless traffic jams of Nairobi. I haven’t blogged for a while, and felt a strong urge to write something, anything. The job keeps me busy, too busy in fact to walk around the yard barefoot, or talk to the lonely dogs in our compound, or ever sip from that air of creativity that surrounds you once you let your mind loose for a minute, once you let go of the burdens of the day. I want to absorb Sunday mornings again. I promise to myself I will try doing nothing... this Sunday morning.

Image credit: GREYFading
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