The Educated Street Boy

By Sam Rogeni

The book is based on a true story on how a father, Athur Kingoina, mistreats his youngest son, Maxwell Ratemo who had just graduated from Nairobi University with a B.Com degree. His father occasionally, receives some money from his other three children who are studying in the US and thinks that the one at home should have a job and may be, be in a position of giving him money too.
His girlfriend, Rosalina, is not kind either. She jilts him for another man whom he meets with her at Uhuru Park enjoying their time. The good thing was that he didn't confront them. This tough life makes him to run away from home to even a tougher life of being a street boy in Nakuru town after searching for a job in vain. A road accident one evening which nearly took his life, changed everything.
When all these events were happening in the life of Ratemo, politicians were campaigning in preparation for the general elections which was scheduled to take place at the end of the year; Dec.27.2007. When the time reached and the electorates cast their votes, chaos erupted after the tallying had been done and the incumbent president was declared the winner. The results were disputed which sparked the violence. A great destruction was done to both human lives and properties. Business operations were disrupted for two months. This impacted negatively to jobs, especially into those foreign companies which had ventured to do business in the country. The majority of them, wound up their business ventures and re-located to other countries which were politically stable. Ratemo's company, DIMA investment was no exception. After the lull of the big storm of violence, the company found that it had made unsurmountable loss, it laid off almost all the workers and later on wound its business rendering many employees jobless.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483667546

Sam Rogeni

SAMUEL ORINDO is a former high school teacher of English language and Literature for 12 years in Kenya. He taught at Mong'oni secondary school in Nyamira County and Kapkenda Girls in Keiyo- Marakwet County. He is a graduate of Chaudhary Charan Singh University, (Formerly Meerut University) India. Currently, he is pursuing a BSN degree. He lives with his family in Arizona, USA. He can be reached at: [e-mail]

Book preview

The Educated Street Boy

Sam Rogeni

Copyright © 2013 by Sam Rogeni.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

As much as it is a true story, I have used pseudo-names. The real names of the main characters, names of some companies, some places or events, have been changed. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

Rev. date: 09/09/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

139018

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

I am grateful to my family for giving me that unwavering support in writing this book. My wife’s support greatly strengthened my spirit of writing it, thank you Jacky. My children, Raphael and Rachel has been a source of inspiration, their presence has been my guiding star. I won’t forget Jacinta, who tirelessly type set the manuscript, she deserves a pat on the back. My work won’t have been complete without the skilful cover design of Victor, thank you for your invaluable skills.

This book is dedicated to peace loving Kenyans wherever they are, may God bless them.

Chapter One

The morning was calm like any good day which is seen through the morning sun rays. My bed was near the window overlooking the expansive eastern valley of Nairobi city. The sun rays that had dissipated through the partially curtained window, had woken me up. I felt lethargic that morning although the day looked fine. I had slept late the previous night, owing to the fact that stress and depression had started taking a toll on me. Everything seemed to be out of touch for me. I even did not know whether I had taken supper! My stomach was in a querulous mood. The rumbling was unbearable. It was as if a pack of hyenas were fighting over the leftovers of a wildebeest that a lion had killed!

I thought you were asleep? I heard a hoarse voice behind me that startled me. The door of the kitchen was in a position where you could not see who was coming from the sitting room or the main bedroom, especially if you were immersed in cooking.

I immediately turned around to meet Vincent staring at me with an apparent surprise written on his face. Usually, when he comes home from work at that time of the morning in the thirteen days that I had sojourned in his place, he used to find me asleep. But not that particular morning!

Gosh! You scared me Vinnie. I am not asleep. I replied as I continued to stir the two eggs that I had cracked into a cup ready to prepare an omelet. When did you come in from work? I enquired.

I came from work in about 45 minutes ago. I have even taken a shower, replied Vincent.

Today is an unusual day for me. Last night, I stayed up late staring at the ceiling as if it had an answer to my woes. When I fell asleep, I guess it was about 2.00 a.m., I fell like a log without turning. It was the morning sun rays that were reflecting at my window and making it bright, that woke me up. Upon waking up, the first realization was hunger. Here I am trying to respond to those pangs of the stomach.

Max, Vincent said after having a glimpse of what I was doing. I might be wrong, but what I have observed in the past two weeks, tells me that all is not well with you. Most of the time you are pensive and the fact that you didn’t sleep well last night as you have told me, augments it. I have never known you to be a downcast person. Obviously, your body betrays you. I am not saying that I have known everything about you, no. But the much that I have known you, gives me a signal that things are not okay somewhere. For the two weeks that we have stayed together, I have observed a big change in you. I never saw you a downcast person before, like what I am finding in you today. Are you in a mood of telling me what is happening?

Vincent had just read me like a book. His observation was indubitably accurate. Things were not the same any more. I unreservedly, unwrapped what had been tacked in my chest for the past several months.

Vincent, there is nothing that I can hide from you. You are like a brother to me, though a friend but who has stuck with me in times of my ups and downs. Let us prepare some tea first and after satisfying the morning hunger, then you will be strong enough to withstand what I will tell you.

My parents live in Kileleshwa, a well secured suburb in Nairobi city, where most dignitaries live. It is a generalized perception that in such an environment, people living there are living a blissful life. Not always. Don’t forget that human beings are imperfect irrespective of their being well endowed materially. They are vulnerable to nature’s twists and turns of life as does those who are not well of financially. Some rich people do get poor emotionally up to a point of losing their sense of direction in terms of reasoning. May be, my father has fallen into this category!

Well, I am not telling you about where my parents live as if you don’t know, but I am trying to conjure up a clear picture so that you can see the actual predicament that I am in. Last time when I was here, that was three months ago, I hinted to you that the relationship with my father had really aggravated. The main reason is that I haven’t secured myself a job! He believes that a Bachelor of commerce graduate from a prestigious university of Nairobi, can’t fail to get a job. I have been knocking at the doors of many offices, filling application forms and responding to interview invitations without any success. I have parted with kickbacks wherever possible, only to find that there were others who had given more than what I had given. Today is the eighteenth month down the line. Nothing!

What makes your father think that you haven’t tried enough in looking for a job? enquired Vincent.

I don’t know. All I know is that I have become a bad egg amidst his lineage. The fact that I have two brothers and a sister in America, has compounded things. Occasionally, these siblings of mine do send him money, a lot of money when he converts them into Kenyan currency. The money he never used to get before he retired from his job. I become an object of condescending remarks when he has received these money.

My real warriors are in America! You will hear him thundering in the sitting room.

Mama Ratemo, where is that useless darling of yours?

My bedroom is upstairs, right above the sitting room. So, everything that was spoken, if my door was slightly ajar, I will hear it. Most of these negative remarks portrayed how insensitive my father was towards my feelings.

What does your mother say upon all those unfair treatment? Inquired Vincent sympathetically.

My mother is the only supporting soul that I have in that house. She has staged all sorts of drama in protest of the uncouth treatment that I am getting from my really father. But all her opposition has fallen on deaf ears.

Baba Ratemo, remember that he is your son whom you are failing to recognize just because he doesn’t have a job. You have been blinded by the money that you receive from your daughter and sons in America. You would hear my mother retaliating.

If I may ask you, how many years have gone without you seeing any of these kids that you are bragging of? The one you have, who is always handy, the one who helps us in most of our needs, is useless! My mother would retort.

Children are a bountiful gift of God. Whether they are successful in life or not, they are still our children. What were you to do if Ratemo was to be born a disabled child? Were you to turn a prosecutor and a judge, and say that you didn’t deserve such a child, Since you are a respectable person in the society and throw away your own fresh and blood, like the former dictator of Uganda Idi Amin Dada, who collected all disabled people put them in a tipper truck guarded with Ugandan soldiers and hauled them through Entebbe cliff to their miserable plunge of death into Lake Victoria!

Arthur! In this battle, I won’t relent—a hen does not break her own eggs! I won’t let you mistreat my last born as if a child is a piece of a cloth you can go to any shop and buy. No! When a child achieves extraordinarily in life that is the father’s child. When one misses to achieve or delays to achieve, that is the mother’s child—he has the traits of his mother that is why he has failed! Well, partly that is true. He has my blood. But, I wasn’t a Virgin Mary when I was getting Ratemo! For this issue of seeing my son as a useless person, I promise you that you shall regret one day!

These were doleful, agonizing lamentations I had heard my mother telling my father.

Her lamentations had indeed fallen on deaf ears. Whatever she had said was as if a furious fire of pride had been ignited in my father.

Woman! This sissy of a son is the one you are defending! That is not my blood. My real blood, my heroes are in America! I don’t own useless ones like your Ratemo. No money, no job. He is a beggar around here! A parasite! He can’t look for a job, at least to help his miserable state. I disown him until he proofs that he is my warrior!

I was seated on my bed when this conversation was going on. I didn’t realize that that particular discourse had a profound impact on my ego. My real father had called me a sissy and to add insults on injuries, he had disowned me! Spontaneously and unconsciously, I found salty soothing tears oozing down my cheeks. I was in a trance. After what seemed like eternity, I woke up to find my whole shirt soaking wet.

I had cried and cried without any whimper, only streams of tears. I am not a belligerent person who can pluck that immediate courage and face the source of a problem. I can’t face my father and tell him my piece of mind. Words will fail me and may be, anger will swell up in me, and the resultant will be disastrous—a fight, amounting to a curse—a son fighting with his father… No! Let me languish with my humiliation. I thought and thought, perused and perused all pages of my life, but no concrete answers were worthwhile.

Good morning Ratemo I heard a feminine voice outside my bedroom door the following day.

Good morning Mum, I replied. My mother’s voice was easy to recognize. You have overslept today. I was just passing by to see whether everything is okay with you, continued my mother.

I wasn’t feeling fully strong today, that is why I didn’t wake up early. Otherwise I am fine, don’t worry about me mum.

My son, things are not what we want them to be sometimes. One might see a straight line in life, but there is no straight line that doesn’t have hidden meanders. There is no rose without a thorn. That is part of life. Those who don’t have, pray that they should have gotten so much so that they can be like those who have. Those who have, have tons and tons of lopsided desires to attain, lamenting that they don’t have enough. Keep heart son things will calm, for I believe that wherever there is a will, there is a way. If there is anything that you wish me to assist you with, don’t hesitate to tell me. My mother advised.

Ongata Rongai is a suburb of Nairobi City, but slightly isolated from the congestion of most city estates. It is about 20 Kilometers from the city. It is a new estate with expansion prospects. Middle earning families, have opted to buy plots here because of the fact that they are cheap and somehow big in size. One of my uncles, the brother of my mother, lives here. Five years before coming here, he had been living in the Lake City of Kisumu and had decided to buy a plot at this place and had built a good home, where he lives now.

Gesare, is everything alright with you? Ondieki inquired.

Brother Ondieki, you are an early riser, what are you doing in the garden at this time of the morning, when you are supposed to be sleeping and regain the energy that you lost yesterday while working? My mother asked.

My uncle had developed a habit of waking up early in the morning as he had to board three more buses before he reaches his place of work. Over a time, this habit had embedded itself in his body. When it reaches 5:00 a.m. in the morning in any day of the week, he becomes awake. If that day he was not supposed to go to work, like that Sunday that my mother had visited him he had to lay in bed for a while for 30 or so minutes. Then he wakes up and inspects his compound. That was what he was doing that particular morning when my mother visited him.

No sister, I was tired in sleeping, so I decided to wake up and see what was happening around my compound. You can see, I am still in my pajamas.

"What brings you here so early in the morning?’

Brother, things have gone from bad to worse. My husband has gone nuts. Yesterday evening, he went back to his abuses to my son Ratemo, calling him a useless son who doesn’t give him anything, that is not enough, he went to an extent of disowning him until he proofs that he is his real son by securing himself a job!. My son is real devastated and distraught. He is only 24 years old. He is a grown up who can fend for himself, but to chase my last born from home as if I am tired of taking care of him. This is going to send me to the grave soon!

Calm down sister, let’s go inside the house and mull this over a cup of tea. My uncle led the way, while my mother was following him to the sitting room.

Diana, you want to tell me that my brother-in-law, Arthur Kingoina, uttered this words from his own mouth of disowning his son over lack of securing himself a job?

Yes, brother.

It is so sad that such a respectable person like Kingoina can stoop so low. How many children of rich people have failed to finish school because they are seeing no need of school, since enough money is in possession of their parents which they will inherit? My nephew, has done his best irrespective of living in a family which is financially stable. The ready money that he gets from his children in the US in terms of dollars, has made him think that the one in Kenya without a job, but well educated, is useless?

I have tried to talk to him about that bad feeling towards Ratemo, but I am unable to water down his foul talk to his son.

This is a serious issue which needs elders to come together and try to hammer sense to him. People would laugh at him if they hear the main reason that he is using to trouble such a humble child.

I am completely defeated on what to do. My mother said.

I am coming on that day that you have suggested, hopefully Nyandoro would come so that we can try to find what is ailing him in harassing the young man that way. There could be something that is troubling him.

Vincent Arama, was very attentive. The situation that was unfolding to him, had baffled him. He didn’t feel sleepy any more, though tired he was. Tiredness could have made him to doze off, but surprisingly enough, he was wide awake. It was as if he was watching an episode in a soap opera through what I was telling him.

Max, don’t worry about the tribulations that you have undergone. For now, lean on me. I will assist you the much that I can. We have talked enough for now. Let me catch up some sleep. See you later in the day. Having said that, he left to his bedroom.

Chapter Two

My mother did whatever means possible that she could lay her hands on to stop the weird behavior of my father. The week before I left home, she had managed to gather a few family members and explained to them the unfortunate happenings in our home. My father’s elder brother, Nyandoro, who is a retired primary school teacher, had promised to come. He lives in Nyasiongo settlement scheme in Nyamira District, where he had bought 20 acres of land. He had promised to come the day that they had planned to have the gathering and get the gist of the matter. My uncle Ondieki also from Ongata Rongai, had promised to come. My mother had told them that if my father was not to be restrained through being talked to, she wasn’t ready to lose her only available child, something bad was to happen.

Nyandoro was the first one to arrive at around 2:15pm on the material day.

How is everybody doing around here? He had started by saying. Although my father had not been notified of the impending meeting, that day he was at home, which was unusual for him. Maybe he was nursing a hangover!

We are doing fine. My father said.

How is everybody out there in the up country? My father asked.

Everybody is fine, except that they are battling with coldness due to a lot of rain. Uncle Nyandoro said.

Rain is a sign of enough food; many crops will do well when there is plenty of it.

But the danger is when it is too much, the already ripe crops are rotting because there is no sunshine to dry them.

The settlement scheme is endowed with green vegetation due to adequate trees like blue gums type, and tea plantations. This vegetation makes the atmosphere to be moist and when a little sunshine is experienced, rain occurs. This area together with the whole area of Gusiiland, experiences enough rain throughout the year due to the presence of this vegetation and the undulating hills also plays a role.

How are the children doing in the US? My uncle enquired.

They are fine. A week ago, I spoke to the eldest, Edwin, he told me that they were doing fine.

Don’t they have a plan of visiting us?

They always wish to come, like Edwin, but as per what he tells me, if he comes he won’t have a chance of going back, because he has overstayed. He had a student visa which was to enable him to stay for only 4 years and if he had planned to come during that time, it could have been possible. After 4 years, one is supposed to come back. But most of the students don’t come back, some are lucky, they get white women and marry them. With time, they become American citizens. Generally they are fine, doing odd jobs here and there.

I was seated in my room with the door ajar. I could hear all what they were discussing. He said that my brother and my sister were doing odd jobs. Does it mean that those odd jobs were the ones which were giving them all that money they use to send him? Sometimes, Kshs100, 000 or Kshs200, 000. I remember there was a time they sent him KSH 385,000. There is a mystery with students who go to the US that they don’t reveal. On the other hand, why don’t they want to come back home and look for jobs here? The majority of those who go, don’t come back to build their nation. The desire of unraveling this mystery was hatched.

How is the one who is here doing? My uncle ventured.

I guess he is fine only that he is struggling to get a job. My father said nonchalantly.

Jobs don’t come easily nowadays, one has to exercise a lot of patience when looking for one.

At this juncture, my mother came to announce that lunch was ready. They can go to the dining table to take it. As they were about to get up and go to the dining table, uncle Ondieki arrived.

Welcome brother-in-law, they said in union.

Indeed you were not talking ill of us, as we were about to go to the dining table, uncle Nyandoro said.

Thank you in-law for welcoming me. My maternal uncle Ondieki came around as he greeted them.

It was a belief in our culture that when a visitor comes when you are about to have your meals, it was a sign of good tidings. The meal is blessed and it would do well to our bodies.

Welcome to the dining table, we were heading there, join us, uncle Nyandoro invited my maternal uncle.

As they were taking their late lunch, my uncle told them, that it has been a great problem in the country for ordinary citizens to get services in public offices without bribing your way in. I arrived in the city in the morning and went to T.S.C (Teachers Service Commission) offices to pursue my pension issue. Since I retired 2 years ago, I have been struggling to get my pension. Whenever I go to T.S.C offices, they keep on telling me that they are looking into the matter. Two years have gone down the line, I went to the pension section and found a young man there who told me that he will look into my case, when I yelled and shouted myself hoarse until their boss, who was coincidentally checking on some files there, intervened and requested to be told what was happening. He ordered my file to be searched and brought to his desk within 30 minutes. He told me to wait for only an hour and my case would be solved. That is exactly what happened and I have a check here. But my question is, if all of us resort to such desperate behaviors like the one I took today, where is the country headed to?

I hope the politicians that we are going to choose this year, in about a couple of months, will fight for the rights of common citizens.

Corruption is frustrating every good intentions genuine citizens have, intoned uncle Ondieki.

After a short while, they were done with lunch and went back to the living room.

"In-law Arthur, I have come to confirm on what my sister, is telling me about my nephew Ratemo. She tells me that there has arisen a sharp difference of opinion which is bringing a lot of stress to her. Is it true that you disowned your own child due to his inability to secure a job?

A pin-tight silence ensued. The poignant moments were creating anxiety in the minds of my two uncles. Keeping quiet signifies that the question was not received well or the person the question was directed to, wasn’t ready to answer it.

In-law Ondieki, those are family inner matters that you are venturing to which I might not be in a mood of discussing about. My father indignantly replied.

Brother Kingoina, I came from all that far to get the crux of the matter. My sister-in-law came home some few days ago lamenting on how you are tormenting your younger son due to the fact that he has not secured himself a job and stop being a parasite to you. You went to the unimaginable extent of disowning him! Brother, you are doing things people will hear and laugh at you. How many sons of rich people have failed to finish school even after their parents have spent lots of thousands of money on them and how many out there do desire to just have the papers your son has attained even without seeking a job?

The boy is not trying enough to get a job. How do others get a job? He should try harder! My father blurted out.

Brother, you are failing to see the reality on the ground. The time we got jobs, is not like this time. Just a few minutes ago, you heard me saying that my pension has taken two good years without being remitted to me. The main reason being corruption. Then, how do you expect your son to succeed without being assisted?

He went to the university and finished hence being equipped with the necessary knowledge. Let him prove his worth, I am not going to assist him.

In-law Arthur, a child is the pride of the family and society. The success of a child resonates throughout the society. Similarly when one of the society members suffers in anything, the society feels it. Give your son a humble time. Sometimes luck delays, but you can’t pull it to suit the time that you went to school. Luck will come at its convenient time.

Sister Gesare, tell my nephew to take it easy and continue looking for a job, not that he will be doing it to appease his father, but his own sanity. The boon of hard work in school is a reward—a job. He will get it. My in-laws, I have to leave now, because where I live is not a safe place when one passes through those areas in darkness, thugs lurk around, waylaying people. I don’t want to be a victim.

My uncle Ondieki left shortly after 5:00pm for Ongata Rongai. Uncle Nyandoro had to spend the night until the following morning. After uncle Ondieki had shortly left, I went down to greet my uncle Nyandoro.

Good evening uncle Nyandoro. I greeted him as he was seated in the living room alone by then, because my father had gone to the bathroom.

Good evening my son. he replied.

Where have you been?

I had my lunch at 1:00pm and went to my room to relax. Later I felt sleepy and took a nap.

That is okay especially with this February warmth in this city. I came probably when you had slept. I have been here for couple of hours. Your uncle Ondieki, was also here, he has just left. briefed my uncle.

How has life been taking you, especially the aspect of looking for a job?

Not encouraging. Because not one area have I seen a prospect of having a chance of an interview. But then, even if they give you an interview date and they interview you, there is no guarantee that they will hire you. Those interviews are formalities. Somebody has already been hired through back doors.

You are right my son. I was just telling your uncles the experience I had today at the T.S.C offices. I have been a victim of this vice: corruption for the last 2 years, my pension has deliberately been delayed. So, today I went there and made noise which caused a commotion. The manager of that sub-unit came and inquired what was happening and within a short time, my file, which they have been telling me that it has been misplaced, was found and my case solved. Corruption is the bane of our success we the ordinary citizens.

Be patient my son, things will be alright. At that juncture, my father came back from the bathroom and announced that they were going out for a while with my uncle.

Hi Ratemo. He greeted me nonchalantly as they were walking out.

Hi dad. I said.

"My mother had escorted his brother to the nearby bus stop. I had come down to the sitting room to catch on the development on how the meeting with my father and my uncles had transpired. So, when my uncle and my father had left, she came back and briefed me on how the discussion had gone.

My son, your father doesn’t seem to know what he is doing, my mother started to tell me. Your uncles had a chat with him, but he didn’t give them a concrete reason why he is pushing you too hard. He told them that you haven’t tried hard enough, as if you are not trying and said that he won’t help you to get one."

Mother, I heard all what they discussed because I was there in my room. My father doesn’t seem to have the clear picture of what is happening in offices nowadays. His perception of job market is based on those days when jobs were guaranteed even before one graduated. Nowadays, there are many people with degrees hence job scarcity, corruption notwithstanding.

Chapter Three

At about 1:45 pm, Vincent woke up. He told me that he felt fresh and ready to face the activities of the day.

Today we are going to have our lunch in town.

A change is better than a rest, I said.

I fail to understand how these touts manage to dangle so precariously in a fast moving vehicle. I registered my observation when we were on our way to town.

You know that these are private businesses and there are many vehicles doing the same activity. So, when touts are jostling for passengers, they have to learn various antics to keep them relevant to their business.

In developing countries, there is lack of orderliness in running things the smooth way, and perhaps due to the rampant corruption, this vice has made business owners to devise ways of survival. So, the same orders trickle down to the conductors who must devise ways of sustaining their jobs.

Rush hours are tricky times to be found in the roads of Nairobi city, especially from the city center to the suburbs. If you had a full tank of gasoline in your car, be prepared to fill it the following morning. You will spend hours and hours in the jam. Cars will snake in the highways without clearing. Passenger vehicles, especially the 14 sitters, are the worst in creating these jams. They will be making abrupt stoppages even where they are not supposed to stop to pick passengers. Others will form feeder roads which don’t exist, totally disregarding other users of the road.

You might want to ask where the law enforcers are when all these things are happening.

They are there, but less concerned, unless it is one of the vehicles they are not familiar with, that is the time they will come in and try to bring order.

Luckily, this wasn’t rush hour that we were in, so we reached the town center within a short time. After walking through a couple of buildings, we went to a popular restaurant, near Ramogi house. We went to the table which was empty and near the window.

What are you guys going to order today? a waitress had asked us as we had sat. She was ready to take our orders.

I will take beef stew and some chapattis, then a coke I gave my orders.

I need ugali and some chicken and a glass of orange juice ordered Vincent.

Do you remember this restaurant? asked Vinnie. It was a very popular restaurant during that time that we were in college, especially when we had received our financial aid from HELB (High Education Loans Board).This place used to roast good goat meat, although I don’t feel like taking some today, I don’t know whether they still prepare that delicacy.

How can I forget where I met my girlfriend the first time? I remember when we came in that evening, there were two ladies sitting at that table, I pointed to the table which was in front of us, with two unoccupied chairs.

Let us join those ladies, you had suggested. Even without giving me a chance to give you an answer, you had started walking towards them.

Can we join you ladies? you had asked.

Yes, the ladies had said in unison as if they were talking about us as we were going towards their table.

I am Vincent and my friend here is Maxwell. you had said as we greeted them.

One of them, may be the talkative and the bold one, had introduced herself as Belinda and said that her friend was Rosalina.

They were taking sodas when we joined them. So, we ordered more for ourselves and another round for them. Later, we ordered dinner for all of us. After that, we had talked on everything and anything. It was while we were talking that I started to notice surreptitious glances towards me that draw my attention. Rosalina was occasionally having stealthy glances on me which were unnerving and suggestive.

During our discussion, we discovered that all of us were students and in the same university, the university of Nairobi. The two ladies were second years, both doing B.S Community health. We told them that we were doing the same course and third years in B.Com. That revelation, heightened interest in each other. Before we parted ways, we exchanged our phone contacts.

After waiting for a short while, the waitress brought our late lunch. The appetizing aroma was wafting in the air as the food was nearing our table.

This is for you sir she said as she placed in front of me an appetizing beef stew with some chapattis.

Here is your ugali and chicken as you had ordered sir, she placed Vincent’s order in front of him.

By the way Max, asked Vincent as we were taking our lunch. How are you faring on with Rosalina? Pardon my asking.

Since I had talked of where I had met my girlfriend, I knew that the question on her was in the offing.

I don’t know what I can say about her, because I am not sure on what is going on. The relationship has not been as vibrant as it was in the time of inception. I don’t know whether my private life has been in conspiracy with my public life! It seems that most of the things that I am associated with, are turning their backs on me. When misfortunes strikes, they never come singly!

Rosalina has never been answering my phone calls, nor has she bothered in calling back to let me know why she wasn’t able to pick her phone when I used to call her. Maybe she has been swayed by the situation I am in or she has found a better man than me. I said.

It is sad Max, when things that you once cherished, start to fall apart. intoned Vincent after getting the perspective of my relationship with Rosalina.

Material possession is not permanent. It is like a flower that withers when the sun shines on it. It is deceptive for one to tag ones love to money or on material gain. A true girlfriend loves a man the way he is; as an individual.

You are right there, Vinnie. I have been agonizing about it for a long time. There is no place I can take her to petition. I loved her, but my love seemed to have fallen on the rocks where there was no fertile soil to enable it to germinate! That was a futile adventure.

Let’s walk around this town and see what is new. At the same time, we will be doing some exercises so that some fats can be broken down. Suggested