I cant write. I cant tell this story. I cant explain in a simple, silly yet justified way. I cant get my thoughts to form the words I really want to say. Whoever said women can speak a thousand words per minute should be brought before a jury of peers and support his theory- if the person was a he- because it is already half an hour and that’s all I got. Ok maybe that person had a point because I sound so incoherent in my ears right about now. Its during low moments like this I wonder how Steve Biko does what he does. I mean that guy can spin words into webs and have you tangled. Trapped even. You find yourself lost in his thoughts and taking up a role in the story. You read his post- A long post About Life- while in traffic and suddenly the heat and squealing children are tolerable, in-existent even. You have had a long day at work or school and his posts in the evening appeals so much like a scented bath. You actually read it while having a so not scented bath but you don’t notice because you are already hooked. You wake up in the morning to find Biko hasn’t readied your favorite cuppa coffee and you turn sour as a lemon. Grumpy, grouchy and snappy as a dorm mistress on a rainy morning. We all had those in high school, I know you relate. Steve has made people do things, be brave, be free. I mean he has made me tell stories. He has made me share feelings and emotions with random strangers because sometimes it’s much easier to tell a stranger than a friend. You know you won’t be judged and if you land yourself a judgmental bastard, well, it won’t be every day that you get to listen to their nasty comments. Steve has made me step out of the closet.
Now don’t get on the edge of your seat, waiting for me to say that am gay. I mean, I have literally stepped out of my closet, where I was initially writing this post. And it wasn’t a comfortable position I can tell you that. Sijui what the show was for and the devil that led me in there. I don’t have the flare for the dramatic Biko, but my friends think otherwise. Not for a minute have they stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, they are the reasons behind my dramatic life and Hollywood heights. Yes, you Eva Gatwiri. And all of you girls from that high school I attended and you all hated me at some point but later…you found out that you couldn’t live without this dose of pure awesomeness that’s me. To all of you, I am just glad all your parents had sex.
Now, back to trying to tell this story and evidently dragging Steve Biko into it. Steve don’t be in a rush with me please. You are the only shrink I know that can actually help me figure this out. I think my problem is emotional correspondence. I cannot handle a highly, emotionally charged situation, without ending up feeling worse than the person actually hurting. It takes split seconds to say something absolutely hilarious when it’s all gay and making merry but when the tables turn, I coil back in a dry corner and evade the storm like the Ten plagues of Moses. Am I a bad friend? Am I a bad person generally, because only nerds with high I.Q’s are socially exempted to have low E.Q’s. In such situations I get this queasy feeling of inadequacy in the pit of my stomach because deep down I know I could have done better than a hug, pat in the back and those cliche words of ‘it’s going to be okay’ . Will it really be okay?
I am a bottled up person. My pain and grief never goes beyond the tears in my eyes. My thoughts and feelings are only confined in a hard paper back ruled book that’s more of a person to me than a book. I have loved a person for so long ‘till it hurts but I had to get nudged by forces unbeknownst to me to let it out. My greatest fear is fear itself. Fear to be judged, labeled, prodded into and questioned. The fear to be misunderstood.
So I walk around campus, around town and across cities. I live this life I have chosen for myself and wear this façade like it’s a suit of armor and it’s a war am fighting. I have pent up feelings and emotions threatening to burst. I wish I was Adele you know. I’d have written this song and won me a couple of Grammy awards. Then the struggle would have been worth it