[An Introduction]
November 28th 2022, as I’ve been thoroughly reminded, was the last time the words I write found themselves on Manenoz. I’d like to tell you that in my hiatus I’ve been too busy to pick up a pencil and one of my many notebooks, but I feel like my guardian angel would shove his halo so far down my throat that I couldn’t tell lies anymore. Instead, I’ll tell you about the Critical Drinker and how I’ve been spending countless hours of my free time binging critiques from his YouTube channel and following his wisdom on Twitter. I’d also like to tell you about Zuri.
“Zuri is the Super Metro of those areas,” she said, “and that’s something considering Metro is the epitome of efficiency and reliability in the transport business. Well, you could also Metro there, but it will leave you at the TRM stage and there’s quite a bit of a commute from there to Zimmerman. I took a Zuri from Tom Mboya somewhere near the Fire Station. I was tired, 9-hour shift on the cash register.”
Now dear readers, it is important to know that she said most of that in Swahili, and for all the C minuses I scored in the subject in high school I do not deem myself worthy to write in the language. And to my ancestors, I’m sorry I have failed you, but I promise my kids will be better.
My life between the 28th of November and now could fill a whole month worth of articles of the day; because somewhere between then and now, I got lost. Between her never-ending tales, sparkling eyes and flawless smile, I somehow lost myself.
I like to tell myself that when people leave with questions that only you can answer you know you got them; and when I was away, I learnt that when you receive a text asking “what the heck just happened?” within a day of knowing someone (that same someone that was talking about Zuri), one of you has screwed up, royally! However, I have this quirk where I won’t let you, my dear readers, have the pleasure of laughing at my misfortune. Nonetheless, I neither regret what happened, nor am I pleading for forgiveness. Perhaps the latter, but only to her (that her again) and to those who would castigate me once they learn her name is Njeri. It was quite the journey, I tell you! The specifics are on their way, as usual, although slowly due to traffic. The perks of residing in Rongai. I’m going to let the suspense build for a minute, let you wonder what a bus and Nairobi have to do with whatever silly words I write. Till then, stay tuned; this is the conclusion of a story that had barely begun, and it should be iconic.
For now, just a question, have I got you?
see you in the next part…
Chiko.
Manenoz 