Friday, April 22, 2011

Sugar Daddy's diary: The Monologue(L2)

      The Monologue
By
Manyuira(wilsonmanyuira@yahoo.com)

         Life could have been better of course but I don’t blame myself for anything. All that mattered, matters or will ever matter is opportunity. Chance has been indispensable in my whole life. Everything about me has all but been opportunity. Being born was a mistake of mama’s looseness; my bringing up was a gamble too. What about all those faces that mama demanded I call them dad?
      Opportunity defiled the three girls we grew together, opportunity made mummy a small mere sack, opportunity robed us any footing, and opportunity denied us any education. It was never going to b e easy for the three of us. And being the eldest made matters worse. I guess the social divide played a tough role in making me a “real prisoner”. Being an opportunist that nature had shaped me to; my song was never to be a chemistry of routine.
      I still remember the shopkeeper rudely tainting Philomena’s innocence, chief's son eloping with young Lillian and still morns beautiful Elena’s death. Did God really have a soft spot for our family? Did he only give us opportunities of misery and despair? Was the other camp only fulfilling a mission? A mission of tearing us apart and disintegrating our camp? Was it all the other camp could do? And did it mean crossing the other camp you kissed off despair and misery? Why was God more kind to other camp if at all he is a God of equal opportunity? Why was he ever there for them but ever willing to condemn us?
            Indeed he is a God of equal opportunity. Only the magnitude that matters…while others has been bundles of joy, us were all but torrents of tears.

      I have come to learn that opportunities knock in two sets. Over time, nature has taught me; my spoon would always be upside down. Its mother, who hypnotized me with scramble. The hard way of earning has been my motto. The leaning of understanding parallel to my softness, a joyful moment sandwiched with luck. Nature has bred a self centered me.
           Accolades and foes has christened me names, routine has riveted my heart and iron, I have learned to embrace every positive opportunity…if at all t compensate what has consumed me over years.
Pillow-in my assumption- was a bad luck to my life. I’ve learned to tolerate her and her fools, but junior?
            Junior, our only son, had entered to the world at the right time. I had missed him for long before our first fool was born. For I needed another "prisoner" to walk with .
            After her sixth “prison”, my fear was being split apart among the seven prisons. Junior was a transitional element and the animal in me was never to be in junior.
            Another thing am sure of, Pillow is also fond of junior. Junior doesn’t seem to comprehend this but creates, if only a mere link between us.
          I’ve never for once regretted ruining Jane’s life, neither have I mourned Julie’s abortion and subsequent impotence. Nor Ruth’s dropping out of school
          Infact I counted myself extravagantly fair. No one died in my arms like my sister Elena; I raped no one like the shopkeeper did. Infact I paid handsomely and beautiful for everything. Didn’t Jane build a house for her family, didn’t Ruth pay dowry for her poor boyfriend? Didn’t Julie start a now flourishing business?
        Thinking of langa’ta, the varsity girl, I don’t see us together for so long. Even I doubt whether we will come back in the same plane once the Seychelles retreat is over.
         However I must admit she has been the hardest ever. For once I thought she was never to crack. I couldn’t remember spending the much I spend on her to any other woman let alone Pillow. But I don’t regret it. I have only grabbed an opportunity that willingly presented itself. A chance to enjoy the "Varsity girls". After all I never got any education. Neither did the only three women dear to me.
        Whatever names they call me I don’t care. I am even entertaining being salt daddy, the Broom or any other they would deem suitable for me. All that matters now is an opportunity to squeeze the hibiscus flower. Opportunity to crash my canines, soothing between them

 Yours Romantic-Energetic-Ever loving
Sugar daddy
Kisima wa juzi

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Love in a cottage.

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