After being in this so called love industry, I have had a lot of testimonies. There was positive and negative moments, but I would like to dwell on the negatives because they carry the bigger percentage. Whenever I see a rose flower I always think of Rose that African woman with a coca cola shape black beauty with protruding hips. I mean Rose was that girl I used to dream of. Meeting her for the first time in the streets of Nairobi felt like someone I knew from wayback. I remember very well meeting her for the first time at chicken Inn opposite Kenya archives Tom Mboya Street. It was around 6.45pm she had a red dinner dress and I can't explained what happened but I fell for her, I know it sounds weird but that's what happened; I had no control over it. I gathered all the courage in the world knowing very well that I would be rejected but that didn't scare me I had experienced a lot before. "hey what's up how are you doing" I tried shooting my shot but she didn't reply she didn't even give me an eye but as an African man with knowledge of dealing with this gender I didn't give up. "I just wanted to say hi since you look familiar but now you ain't interested. can I give you a ride" "a ride? ofcourse why not you have a car? I am Rose by the way sorry I didn't talk to you earlier" and then I was there in deep thought wondering, so she decides to talk to me because I spoke of a ride. Lakini wasichana wa Nairobi ni funny. At this point I had enough room and flexibility to push my agenda. "What is a beautiful girl like you doing here at this time, waiting for someone?" "yee...sss.. No no actually I'm waiting for no one" Believe me or not Rose was waiting for her boyfriend for a dinner date but she decided to deny anything related to that. Now since it was on a Friday and you know how we do it in Nairobi during weekends, we got into my Mercedes E650 and drove our way to Quivers Lounge to get the party started. I didn't ask questions since I knew Rose was just like the other girls in Nairobi who like clubbing. At this point I knew very well I had done 75% and that this girl was already locked in my box. It was not the first time I did this, every Fridays I used to pick random ladies from town and pull the same stand of going to club and taking them to my house after and the rest was history.
In my Mercedes E650 I drove professionally to showcase my driving abilities, I won't say it was showoff but its something I used to do oftenly since I loved cars and now driving in my new benzo was something different. I took the left lane to Quivers lounge. As the gentleman I purpose to be I opened the door for my new catch. My friends say doing that is a sign of being lambistic of which I'm aware of but at this moment I had to prove my worth as a gentleman. Honestly this was the mzungu stuff but I had to get used to it since African women is all that they want. Being treated as Queens. It's not a bad idea but we tend to copy the westerns. Slowly she got out of the car and we entered to our place of comfort. I won't lie Rose was a beautiful lady with natural hair no the wig thing no make up but still pretty. 11pm the party was still but we decided to leave. I took my benzo and off to my digs. All time her phone kept on ringing but she didn't pick it up. I had no issue with her phone calls since I knew it was a one night stand and all is done. I parked my car and upstairs we went. She asked for water and I showed her way to the kitchen and also asked for some. I took a sip of water and what happened next, I don't know. I was awoken by the sound of a siren and what I say on my bed was a pool of blood. On my hand was a knife covered with blood. On the floor slept Rose in blood. Before I could even wake up from the bed, my door was banged, and two armed men in flying squad attire entered. Before I could even say anything my face was on the ground and my hands were tied back. I thought the first thing was to check on Rose, but they left her there and never bothered . They came there just for me and me alone. Quickly, they pushed me outside, got me into their black van and covered my head with a rag. But police don't do that what's happening I questioned myself. After driving for estimatly 45minutes the car came to a halt and I overheard their conversation "hio nyangau iko wapi" still my head covered in a sack I was dragged out of the car the next thing I was sitted on chair and the sack on my head taken off in front of me was a man with a gun. All this time no one was talking.
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Brian Martins
This is a journey of discovery, enlightenment, and inspiration waiting to be embarked upon. Each article is meticulously crafted to ignite curiosity, stimulate thought, and provoke meaningful dialogue.
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It was like a dream
I woke up that morning, and on stretching my hand to my left my eyes still closed at least to wake her up but the only thing I could reach for was the sheets. I quickly opened my eyes just to confirm that I was still not dreaming, but she actually wasn’t there. I then assumed she was at the wash room and began to call out to her, Babe! Babe! No answer, Maggie! again no one answered. Slowly I woke up and headed to the bathroom but she was not there but then I thought she was at the living room but wait! she never wakes up that early infact I am the one who serves breakfast on weekends. Maggie loves sleeping and usually complains that waking up early to go to work makes her sick, so weekends are usually her days to sleep in. I checked her closet but I only found 2pair of shoes and a black velvet dress which I loved, as it was actually my favorite. Whenever she wore it she always looked ten times more beautiful and that made me fall in love with her over and over again reason being I bought it with my own money , my money! as a gift for her on her birthday. As I went downstairs to look for her since she wasn’t responding my phone rang and I hurriedly received it without even knowing the caller, “You killed her, you killed her you idiot”, “sorry? Killed who?!” I was in shock as it was Maggie’s mother and I knew for a fact that she never liked me as she always said I married her daughter to squander her money. Maggie was well established, strong, independent and hardworking woman. For me, I never had a stable job actually I was unemployed but Maggie took me in and accepted my situation and loved me for who I was. I know as a man a lady taking you in is a sign of weakness and the society terms it as being LAMBISTIC. Despite getting negative comments from people I never fell for any, “achana na uyu dem bro si ligi yako” that’s what Kevo a friend of mine used to tell me. Maggie and I had a bond not a chemical one like the covalent or ionic bond this was different a humanic one should I say a ‘James bond’ kind of bond. I felt whole with Maggie. I checked the kitchen, guest house, balcony but still no sign of her. ‘Kwani ameniacha’ I tried to call her but her phone was off and that is when I remembered what Kevo said ‘tafuta ligi yako’ I panicked and sat on the couch she was gone! I poured myself a glass of vodka and relaxed but something caught my attention, it was an envelope. I opened it. It was a death certificate and in it was Maggie’s name. Was I hallucinating?? No! I came back to my senses. I tend to forget a lot mostly after taking some shots of vodka my memory lapses or something? It then hit me that we had buried the love of my life the previous day at her birth place, Chikuti. Maggie had been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer and had fought a good fight but lost to it. We spent every penny trying to cater for her well but nothing. It breaks my heart knowing that i will never see you again. Oooh i wish that I would also die and meet up with you in heaven. I keep on anticipating for your return as my heart is filled with the desire to delve into every corner of this world alongside you
By Brian Martins11 days ago in Humans
The problem with being a nice person
Who would have thought that being a nice person could be problematic. The majority of people would tell you that’s what they want to be or at least want those around them to be, but as it turns out, what we want and what we say we want are worlds apart. I won't stress or ramble on about how I would like things to be, but I’ll just analyze why this is, I am not sure either if a solution is even possible.
By real Jema3 days ago in Confessions
The Psychologist's Journey
Dr. Maria Hernandez, a renowned psychologist, had spent her entire career studying the human mind, trying to understand the intricacies of human behavior. She had always been fascinated by the complexities of the human psyche and had dedicated her life to helping others overcome their struggles.
By Isra Saleema day ago in Confessions
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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Keep up the good work.