Posts Tagged ‘Ngara’

The Shawshank Redemption is undoubtedly the best movie ever produced that details what redemption and self forgiveness is all about

With a heavy sigh, he forces himself to stagger away from the window, where he’s been standing in his boxers for the past thirty minutes, no longer able to bear the sight of the man staring back at him. His eyes are partly bloodshot, his head heavy and his hands are trembling. Taking one last sip from the bottle of vodka firmly in his grip, he places it on the small table beside his bed, gently, before reaching for the pack of cigarettes next to the now empty bottle. With a slight hesitation, he lights up a match, but his trembling hands cause him to burn two of his fingers in the process. He winces. More scars. It doesn’t matter to him; what are two more little scars compared to the millions of scars that blight his life anyway.

He lights up another match and this time, he successfully manages to light up the cigarette already on his lips. He inhales and feels the head rush hit him almost instantaneously, even before he blows out the poisonous smoke. The woman on his bed coughs and stirs up, her gaze now fixed on to the back of his head. Annoyed, he takes two more puffs in rapid succession, almost choking him. He didn’t pay for her services to care a morsel about her; besides, it’s his room. Like most smokers, he resents how the cigarette makes him feel like shitting a ton. He wishes the cigarette, now almost halfway, could make him release all the shit in his life.

The events that led to this night are still fresh on his mind, burning him, scorching his soul and will to go on in the process. His gaze is fixed on his right hand; he wishes he could cut it off. After all, Jesus did say any part of the body that causes you to sin should be cut off. He wishes it were that easy- to cut off the hand that drove a dagger deep into woman’s chest only hours before and forget the whole thing happened. He knows he’d give anything, including his own life to go back in time and warn his past, angry self before the bugger did the heinous act, because like most murderous, he didn’t intend for it to happen that way. He also knows his anger for her cheating didn’t warrant her death… for starters it has only added more misery into his life… but what is done is done. They are probably looking for him now, but he’s made up his mind not to run.

God knows he already misses her; if she were here he’d probably tell her something cheesy to make her laugh, just to see her warm smile one more time… to hear her beautiful voice call out to him telling him to stop making her ribs ache. He knows he’d probably respond with something even dumber. He’d tell her to forgive him for making her tired, because she’s always running through her mind. He still remembers the very first time he saw her. He was having lunch with a friend when she walked into the hotel. Disappointed they didn’t have pork ready at the time, she left. He’d run up to her and told her he wanted a picture of her to show Santa exactly what he wanted for Christmas that year. He bursts into a drunken, hysterical laughter when he remembers the priceless look on her face. For them it had been the proverbial love at first sight; there had been no need for him to walk by again. People had once described them as the perfect couple.

But like everything else on earth with the exception of Herpes, love too fades away. He makes a resolve.

He staggers one more time to his bed, where by now the hooker, whom he can’t remember her name, has already helped herself to a cigarette, but was too occupied with his thoughts to notice it. He takes out another cigarette and hands the remaining pack to her; where he’s going he won’t need them. Then, he pulls out a bunch of notes without bothering to count them and hands them to her. She knows she was lucky this time. To show her gratitude, she tries to pull him back into bed to give him one last fuck. He declines and she starts putting back her clothes- her work here is clearly done.

She follows him out of the door and watches him as he slowly locks up and without as much as a goodbye; both of them take to their different directions- two strangers that will probably never meet again, at least not in this crowded neighbourhood of Ngara. He pictures his destination in his mind. Outside, it’s began raining but he keeps walking straight ahead, willing every muscle of his legs not to let him stagger, knowing he’ll soon reach his destination. The darkness coupled with the rain trickling down into his eyes make it hard for him to see where he’s going, but he soldiers on, unafraid someone might jump him at any instant in these unsafe streets of Nairobi.

At last, he arrives. He looks up at the signpost that reads ‘Nairobi Central Police Station.’ He smiles as he lights the last cigarette he’s ever going to smoke again. He finally knows he can have a chance of redemption by taking the first step of taking responsibility for his actions. He reduces his pace now, taking one step at a time. He knows he may be drunk, but his mind is clear. This is what he wants to do. What he has to do if he’s to live with himself. Finally, he’s at the doorstep and he throws away the remaining cigarette.

He takes his first step inside the building, his gaze firmly at the book on the desk ahead, unconcerned about the curious glances directed at him. Then his phone starts ringing… A new number. He might as well find out whom his last call will be with.

“Hello, is this Alfred?”

“Hello, yes it is… Who’s this?”

“I’m Dr. Kimana calling from the Nairobi Hospital… We want to let you know your wife was brought here today with a stab wound and we performed an emergency procedure. We managed to save her life.. She’s awake now and she’s asking for you….”

He doesn’t bother letting the doctor finish… Alfred drops the phone and crumbles to the floor, tears in his eyes…

Leornado Dicaprio in the world he created in the 2010 sci-fi film Inception

“It all over, Chelsea are the new European Champions!”

That statement was what got me to church on Sunday. Chelsea had the last laugh. And oh my, was it sweet. I am not a Chelsea fan, but I had a lot banking on that game. For a start, Ksh. 3850 on bets was on the line. Yes, it was that serious; to me, the unexpected is expected, because I have come to expect the unexpected in football. And I had promised God that should the wife grabbers win the match, the very first thing I’d do on Sunday was to go to church. Ok, not really, I first had to sleep as the match ended way after Sunday started, then I had to wake up, shower, take breakfast and walk to church. It was the very first time I kept a promise to God.

I know, it sounds immoral; the fact that I needed financial motivation to go the House of God. It isn’t. We all have our reasons why we go to church; many to find potential spouses that are ‘born again.’ Or as a Luhya would say, “Porn Again”; God loves porn again people after all. Others go to church because they bought expensive new heels that only they can afford and do not want to miss a golden opportunity to show them off to multitudes of people that have gathered gladly for the show. Very few, I repeat, very few people, go to church to pray. Finally, there are the few like me, who believe God is the benefactor of everything including life and money.

So I found myself tagging alongside my mum, who frankly, was astounded that I was even awake at 9.00 am, leave alone accompanying her to church. Needless to say, we parted ways the moment we entered that gate- somehow I have never understood why churches have doors and gates, you’d think the House of God would be the most secure place on earth. I headed over to the corner, as far away from the watchful, painfully reproachful eye of my mother, just in case the need to post a tweet on twitter should arise. And it did.

The pastor started off the sermon with “I am just from Nigeria in case you are wondering why I am dressed like I am.” In my head it sounded something like “I have been to Nigeria. See my heels and my elegant skirt, you’re damn right they are not from your pathetic country so shut the hell up and listen to me.” I was willing to overlook the fact that I had just been stepped on by a woman I had never seen before, except she proceeded, “and I am here to cast out demons.”

Much to my bewilderment, people were applauding. Some people, the show offs, took this opportunity to throw money on her feet. I am not saying I thought it was pointless, I found it amusing actually as it looked similar to the same fashion the Catholic Church lost its money fighting lawsuits they couldn’t win; lawsuits of child molestation. Pointless on the other hand is why they sterilize needles for lethal injections.

All religion-related activity in my brain ceased. For the first time, I noticed the people I seated next to; I was more confused than an infant in a topless bar. I found myself looking around just in case I spotted a demon, or worse, Lucifer seated like a boss at one corner, laughing quietly, scheming his next move. Nothing. I looked back at her in frustration, willing every nerve in body to stop the mutiny that was going on in my head and which was about to conquer my mouth next. I took out my phone to prevent myself from shouting back,

“Excuse me little miss sunshine from Nigeria, I have looked around and I can see no demons. Please be kind enough to point them out for me.”

Instead, I tweeted my thoughts.

Not that I don’t believe demons exist; like the suicidal blonde that killed her twin sister by mistake, it is stupid to believe that God exists when you don’t believe there is a Devil. But the thing is all the demons I have come across are people. People with troubled minds who look to the church as validation that they are not insane; that they are in fact possessed.

I have a hard time trying to convince myself that the man who bombed a church some time back in Ngara was possessed. Or that the guy that raped a 6 year old girl was in cahoots with the devil. Or worse, that that the man who first his wife to death, then set his house ablaze so he and his entire family would burn to death, including the two young girls that were fast asleep in their bedroom, was led to do it by the little red devil perched on his shoulder.

I believe that there is a God and there is a Devil and likewise, that there is good and there is evil; two things each man must decide which to be. Like two sides of a coin, you cannot be both at the same time, but you can have both. It all boils down to which face is up but unlike the coin that needs to be tossed and cannot choose for itself, everyman has it in him to pick one and fight the other. Then there is the third side of the coin that nobody ever considers significant.

If you’ve watched the movie The Adjustment Bureau then you know how much power mere chance has in reality; chance is responsible for lots of things. Hitler got into the army by chance; but it was the decisions he made there after that would later prove the platform for his misguided politics and the cause of a six year war that would leave in its wake 60 million people dead including him.

My point being, we are our own worst enemies; we create the world we live in and likewise the demons that haunt us as portrayed in the thriller, Inception. A few misguided words of advice here and there, a few moments of weakness, a few moments of rage, hate and jealous glances; those are the downfalls of man. And the question is what type of person are you and what side of the coin are you on? Are you the good guy, the bad guy or do you leave it all to chance before you can decide. As far as I am concerned, everybody seems normal until you get to know them

***FACT: If you take the first letters of the first names of the main characters of Inception, you get the word DREAMS; Dom, Robert, Eames, Arthur, Mallorie, and Saito.***