I’ve never really liked the rainy season. Everywhere is wet, the ground is a mess and one must attach an umbrella to their person at all times. It’s not called rainy season because of one week rain. It is unpredictable—even though the weather apps beg to differ—and getting caught without one can break one’s day. So I don’t like the rain.
I don’t like the rainy season because it’s noisy. The sound of the raindrops falling incessantly on roof tops, car ports, cars and random surfaces drives me nuts! People claim the sound lulls them to sleep at night, not me. Maybe because once upon a time, the sound of rain meant keeping watch for all the places the water could sneak into the house. With flooding and cracks here and there, rain meant keeping watch to ensure our property doesn’t get damaged. And that’s a solid house with a roof and windows, imagine people who live in less stable conditions? I’ve never been a fan of the rain.
Rainy season in one word is ‘meh’. It causes this feeling of relaxation and sluggishness. It makes you wanna kick back and pull that duvet closer to your chin. It makes you crave the feel of another body next to yours, sipping hot ginger tea and having a cigarette. It falls relentlessly on a Monday morning when you have urgent things to attend to, urging you to put it off for another hour, day… Push it to anytime when the rain isn’t whispering seductively with each drop to stay back in bed.
I grabbed the bag that slid to a stop at my knees, tore the receipt that hung out to my left and pulled out my ATM card from the machine. When I walked away, my space was quickly occupied by another person eager to claim their goods. The silence was almost deafening save for the few automobiles that zoomed past, and the lonely ring of a bicycle bell. I pushed my shades up my nose so that the air from mask doesn’t fog the lens too much. Although I don’t know why I bother with it at all; it simply slides back down the mask. The frame is loose and I know I should get it checked but with only one hospital working and the growing number of sick people…? A little fog and adjusting my glasses was a small price to pay. People hardly left their houses these days. Everything that could be automated was automated and technology ruled. The government of my youth quickly died as the pandemic swept through, killing all those who were above 60. Many of us were orphaned overnight, babies died and sick people followed shortly after. It was like what I imagined rapture would be like only this time, we ran out of space to bury bodies so we burned them.
My partner and I take turns to grab supplies from the supermarket. It takes about 2 hours to shop and claim goods because of the long queues. We worked in tech before the global meltdown so making money in a tech world hasn’t been difficult. But with whole countries going bankrupt and economies crumbling, we still lived off the little farm and poultry we have. Food, after all, never goes out of fashion. I will spend one hour in the sanitizing chamber as my partner talks to me through the glass door. It’s not so uncomfortable, just hot from all the steam. I do this naked, while my clothes are washed and dried and ironed and sanitised as I sit here. She’s saying something funny and I hear myself laughing; small blessings in such trying times: the gift of humor. Her slender shoulders have always been able to carry burdens, from when she was young. Now, she wakes up bright eyed and cheery because my black soul can’t muster up the courage to be happy. Can you blame me? I watched my parents wither away before my eyes and it killed something in me. They had disowned me long before their deaths but I was the only one there, close enough, to show up for their last moments.
We make dinner together, exchanging gossip and talking about people we used to know. Amazing how even in the midst of utter carnage, humans still find a way to bring each other down. With the expansion of technology and the need to track everyone, no one was safe. Webcams and phone microphones gave tech companies access to people who were suspected of having the disease. Any malady that seemed like a symptom at all and the van is outside your house with a mobile station to to test you. The effectiveness of the entire system was jaw dropping; it had to have been in motion a long long long time ago—long before the pandemic even hit.
How do you explain establishing such effectiveness GLOBALLY, in under two years? Some of these technologies that run automated systems take years to develop. How, did they pop out in less than two years? They called me mad when I said world governments were working on population control. No one believed me; I was laughed at all the time. Well, baby believed me. She saw the signs with me so when I said we need to be ready for anything, she joined me. We stopped eating so much junk, made our farm, stopped cigarettes, picked up yoga and home workouts…started to get healthy. This was about five years ago when Africa suddenly started improving. I am not trying to say that Africa is utterly useless but for a continent that has been seeped in corruption, to drastically change in what felt like a night…? I knew something was going on. We lost friends and neighbours to the disease. It is an airborne disease so masks were the first thing to happen. Baby and I applied to work remotely and we were granted that when the CEO died right there at their table. Baby was the only who believed me then, and I think because of that I have her here and now, with me.
The world over is a shadow of what it used to be. Some countries don’t even exist anymore because everyone there was taken by the disease. We don’t even have the news cuz no one goes out enough to do that anymore. It’s a series of random reports done by individuals, mostly on YouTube—which became a major platform for the world. So many opened channels to report what happened on their remote areas. Our next door neighbour is one of such people; I know this cuz I granted an interview a few months ago for his channel.
The world is nothing like it was, and will never be anything like that again. My singular consolation, is baby. We live to fight another day. Together. That’s good enough for me.
Love and the art of loving is a tricky thing. No one tells you about the tears. No one tells you about the heart ache. No one talks about the ups and downs of such a beautiful feeling. We all know rose bushes have thorns…why did we think different about love? I have loved and am in love. I have cried. I have been broken to pieces and healed again…both by love. I have died and been resurrected by love. It is a beautiful slippery slope that is inevitable when you’re in it. Gear up. If you fall, stand up again. If you’re lucky, you get to fall beside the right one who will always help you back up.
We lie behind our smiles. Each day is remote. The motions, we go through them. Ignoring our aching backs and bleeding feet. We fight a silent war with ourselves. We ignore the shortness of breath. Heaving lungs. The blood pouring from our eyes. We ignore the warning signs. We are dying. Slowly. Daily. Through it all, we still have time to smile. It’s all lies.
He was ice to my fire, we would never have lasted.
He was too young and life made us part ways.
We weren’t sure what we wanted so we laid ‘us’ to rest.
She only wanted me in the dark of night; the loudest we got were muffled sounds. We would never have dared for more…it could never have worked.
He loved me and I loved him but my eyes wandered and like a fly, I got caught in a trap. I tore us apart and that was the end.
He really only wanted my body but claimed he loved me. On the steps of the cafeteria he dumped me and let me pick up the pieces of my heart as I made my way back.
He made me feel like his one and only when truly I was the side chick. The truth was my graduation gift from him.
We were a match made in heaven. Lovers that started out as friends. Still, I wasn’t enough but he had the guts to tell me. And just when I thought I could take him back, he died and took a bit of my heart.
He pulled me out of my shell and dared me to try the love thing. But I was a fool. It was simply that side chick business again.
So I vowed to not do it ever again. Then I met her…and she said all the right words and did all the right things and showed me that maybe I’m not all bad.
But now when she asks, “What have I done again?” I shrivel up and another part of me withers away.
My fingers tapped away on the keyboard as you sighed soundly in your sleep.
The words burned into the back of my eyes became images as they were brought to life with the stroke of a key. I am with you but far away, lost in the world behind my eyelids. You tossed and turned as you walked on the other side; what you dreamed of I wondered when I watched you fall asleep initially. Now, those thoughts are gone and I danced with the tales being spun on the wheels of my imagination. The light from my desk lamp cast a bright ray of light across my table, illuminating my immediate area, dark enough for you to ride the waves of slumber but bright enough to light the path for my eager fingers as they moved to the tune of creation urgently pouring out of me. I had been casting spells and making lives here at my desk for an hour until I heard the sheets ruffle and the softest sigh that brought me back.
“Mel”.
I turned around when you whispered my name; light in my eyes so I could not see you but I knew exactly how you looked half asleep. Your eyelids will be droopy, and half shut to hold on to the strings of your sleep—it is not morning yet, your head still resting on the pillow but your body is waiting for mine, poised in wonder at my absence. I said no words and switching off the desk lamp, I moved to you, found you, and merged into you. Our bodies met and I am here with you fully, all of me, mind, body and spirit.
You buried your head in the crook of my shoulder as you wrapped your arms around me. A soundless sigh escaped and just as quickly as you came awake, you fell right back to sleep. I almost thought I dreamed you call my name, and the last hour writing never happened. I shut my eyes and felt your body rising to the rhythm of your breaths. In, out, in, out…till we were in sync then we weren’t. I ran my hands across the rise of your buttocks, cupping it lightly where it meets your thigh. I feel the slight bumps and bruises on your arms, scars that have stood the test of time and tell their own tale.
Feeling your body on mine, rubbing my hands over your skin… I lost track of time and place, getting lost in the softness and smoothness of your skin. Your head rose and you kissed me fiercely. Without missing a beat I kissed you back, tongues dancing in and over each other as our bodies seemed to become one, all over again, in a different way.
The alarm rings loud and jerks me awake—the pen in my hand falls and I bang my head on the table trying to catch it in my sleep fueled haze. I wipe the drool off my cheek, as I slowly make sense of my surroundings. I am not in bed with you, no, rather I am at my table where I recall sleeping off while I penned my journal entry for the day. The alarm keeps blaring; a quick look at my phone and I remember that I have a Zoom meeting in fifteen minutes.
Sighing, I rise and shut off the alarm. My heart is heavy and I close my eyes as I yearn to feel your touch one more time—holding on to the sensation that is you in my dreams.
Our eyes met as we shook hands.
I had no intentions in that area.
He was the friend of a friend in town for the night;
Just another stranger.
The night was young,
Someone’s pocket was deep,
Someone’s eyes had started to hover.
Not mine, I promise; that much I can guarantee.
One drink, two drinks, three drinks, more.
Lights had started to shine brighter and blur into one;
My inhibitions dropped even lower,
As I made my way to the dance floor.
I moved to the beat,
In sync with him.
Back pressed to his chest,
His hands sitting comfortably on my waist.
For lack of memory, I’ll spare us the lies,
And cut right to when next I consciously opened my eyes.
We were back in my room,
I recall offering it to him too,
For the night; since he’d be gone by morning.
I shed my clothes and got into bed.
Our bodies met and the alcohol rang in my head
Again; sex!
That was all it said.
With morning comes sobriety and harsh truths.
I had slept off mid do.
If he finished, I don’t know and right then, I no longer cared.
All I wanted was for him to disappear.
He huffed and puffed and got out of my bed.
Got freshened up, packed up his box;
On his way out he barely looked back,
And said, “Do you know you drool?”
Candid. Real. Me. 