DECEMBER love STORY

In a quest to know who people really are, I realised the world has identified groups; the whites, Caucasian and blacks …etc. In a black nation like Kenya, this is not any different. Hierarchies still exist; black men, black boys, black women and finally black girls.

Ooh Africa!

She was a village girl who barely knew the village roads. Born and bred in Shagz but never knew the fun that came along with belonging to her countryside; she was not involved in what other kids were. I mean never played Chakalongo, skipped ropes or riot against small boys.

Useful lovers, readers. I am talking about a black girl child.

This one was unique, I mean different. She had read more novels than what other girls her age in this neighborhood had. Her English was fluent, though she was not loud they say intellectuals don’t speak much. ‘Empty debes …’ (it’s you who said)

She never fetched water, never went out to collect firewood or sent to the shop and so she never made rounds going to the shop after she forgot to buy anything. She was a hidden gem.

They met in an abandoned village road, never used because no boys used to hang out these sides. He was interested in knowing where the road would lead. His spirit of exploring was on another level, he walked in confidence. Like a loose lorry he was rolling her way, his broad chest covered the road. His figure suggested he was a player of a rough sport; tall, well built with big biceps and large muscles around his neck. He was a striker, he played handball for his university team and back there he was a celebrity. He smelled like a man; cologne and a little sweat. That was enough to tell his physical dominance, his presence was too much for her small face and this footpath.

She remembered to breathe and looked up straight into this bold guy’s eyes. She had read more articles and books that advocated for gender equality. She knew her place though did not know how to ask for it. Everyone has a problem, gamblers have a penny problem, silence was hers and it was costing her. Her adrenaline rushed in her veins, she had a mix of reactions on her face. She had never felt like this before. He spoke to her like a real man – with a base. The feeling of getting the man of her dreams. A man so complete, nothing more can be admired from another.

For most girls first boyfriends feel like they would lead to a happily ever after. He asked for her number after a few exchange of words. She couldn’t hesitate, it felt like Christmas in a mug. She didn’t fathom how easily she recited the zero seven two …
She was going to the shop I guess to buy candies or airtime but now, for the first time she had to go back to the house and remember. She had forgotten.
This would see a beginning of an end, she developed feelings for him and she would no longer be a spinster without a suitor. She was a lady in love. She had fallen in love at first sight -her crush. She did not know why it happened but kept on believing it was her time.

This handsome lad was new to the area. He did not know much about the village or village life. He was a city boy and was not afraid to experience life of this other side of the world. She was joining campus soon. She could meet a handful of this kind of men in university but fate had brought her this guy. For the next few weeks the couple would walk around holding their hands they would together walk on new roads and meet new people.

He was good in art he made cards for her, bought her chocolate and candies. He was engaging and tender. He was a good singer, she was a good dancer but unleashed her dance moves in her bedroom. He also was a dancer, only that he danced a lot in his head. They say good dancers dance in their heads more than they can do. She sang a lot in her head too. Worlds of imperfections had met. They complemented each other. Seemed they were made for each other. Love birds, watching this two was a beauty. Young souls in love.

However, her bubble of happiness was bound to burst. It would be a little loud and painful for her. She had hidden her face and a locked door behind a four walled for a reason. Her window opened on occasion -when cleaning her room or when her novels wanted an outside feeling. She had no friends.

In this unforgiving land, you grow up quickly, you grow up listening. You become a witness. You become a part of it. A rumor will take a round a half the world before the truth even gets the chance to wear it pants.
He met new friends from the village, and adopted the narrative, he feared her -for who she was. Blamed her -for never saying the truth. She was HIV+. It is the positive that he feared. He was positive when working hard but not this positive. She tried to tell him but stopped because she thought that he would go forever. She was an introvert she was hurt. Hurt by the society.

He left without saying goodbye. He felt sorry for her -for who she was. She was born this way and started taking these pills (ARVs) which she never knew were strange to the world. She wanted to change this state for her kids, she also wanted a family, a beautiful one like anyone else!

My story is that of a HIV positive black girl stigmatized by the whole community. These innocent lives have been denied a chance to be happy. It hurts.

Dear Kenyans lets end stigmatization. They are beautiful humans.