The Lower Eastern Times Opening The Third Eye
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By: Vincent Mumba
• What I am about to tell you does not leave this blog. It’s supposed to live here. In fact, it was never supposed to be written down at all.
• I haven’t had a mumama(yet), but I’m not ruling out that option.
• When I get a view once message, I light up, smiling like a fool.
If you are reading this, I trust you are old enough to have broken something: a law, a glass, or your virginity! And if you are a man, listen closely because the bar is being set higher for you from this moment: I hope you are man enough to have gone down on someone’s daughter.
Mmmh! Wait, not the bushy slippery altar that ye men of clean bodies but dirty thoughts are imagining! I’m talking about going down on one knee, opening that ka tiny square box, flashing a smile, and saying those life-changing words: “Will you marry me?”
I hope you’ve been in the game long enough to have been told those four dreaded words: “We need to talk.” The only statement that has the power to make your head spin as you scramble to figure out, what did I do wrong this time round?
If you haven’t experienced anything I’ve been talking about so far, I suggest you leave this site right now. The content here is strictly for those who have loved and lost someone- not to death, but to other circumstances. You know, the products of the infamous “Mtaachana tu” prophecy.
When “The One” becomes The Villain
What do you do when the wo(man) you used to do bad things with suddenly decides to do bad things to you? The one you thought was the one ends up breaking your heart and the only excuse they can muster is, “It’s not you, it’s me.” The same person you were so crazy in love with, calling each other baby all day to an extent that your favourite song was: “Baby shark doooo dooo dooo dooo” – now has you singing, Bien’s “Inauma inauma lakini nitazoea.”
Laugh, cry, or stalk—we all heal differently
Some may choose to drink their pain away, cry themselves to sleep, or even hold a joint meeting (I am on a roll. Hehe) with the crew smoking blunts. But for the majority of us, we take the easy path of ghosting, blocking, and deleting their contacts. Yet, do we really move on? Do we forget them?
If you are a lady, you might find yourself stalking their socials, seeing them with a ‘new catch,’ and it makes you feel like that car in driving school-the one people use before they get their own. Don’t go confirming this, but it is common knowledge: no one goes to driving school with their own cars. (What you use that information for is entirely up to you)
If you are a guy, you might scroll through her socials, only to laugh out loud to see the “kinyangarika” that she left you for.
You can block them, but can you block the flashbacks?
You may lose her, him, they/them- but one thing you never lose are the memories you made. Those linger in your mind stubbornly, hanging around like the scent of a Somali Woman’s perfume after she is gone.
The slow backstrokes he used to give you, the way he’d pin you against the wall, navigating every curve and contour of your body like a seasoned geographer. Do we forget all thaaat? Probably not. No doubt you will be on top of a lady, and she moans “Peter,” and you are “Kevoh.” Attachment issues? Absolutely. Kamisi na baika uliwacha na nusanga ndio nilale.
When love withers and your relationship becomes weaker than Van der Waals forces (that’s a chemistry joke), the most honorable thing to do is to let go. When it is dead, it’s dead. You can’t keep pretending to be making love after divorce.
Moving on after a breakup is no easy feat. Saa zingine ni ngumu. Pain, it seems, is the ultimate price we pay for love leading us to a bittersweet conclusion that love is a beautiful thing. Yes. Yes. But only in Holy hood.
Here, the concept of love is analogous to our 2010 constitution, it works better in theory than in real life But let’s face it- relationships, especially those in Nairobi, are fragile, and most aren’t built to last. Why? Because too often, they are built on lust… and nyash. (Mostly nyash.)
I don’t know what happened between you and your ex, but one thing we can all agree is that our exes did a slightly better job to us than what the Kenya Kwanza government is doing to our economy.
And if you swore that you moved on, yet somehow, you are here reading this. Don’t worry, I won’t judge—just make sure when you stalk your ex’s page tonight, you don’t accidentally like a 2020 photo. Heal responsibly.
Vincent Mumba is a Nairobi-based writer who blends humor and street wisdom to tell raw, relatable stories. Find him on Twitter @vincent_mumba.
