B plus

Pity is exactly what I feel and this is what I know and don’t know.

I am not Muslim and I don’t know how it feels like to pray five times a day or to be on an Islamic pilgrimage, going to Mecca- a city in Saudi Arabia which is considered the holiest place in Islam. I do not also know the feeling of watching a big football match in an ultra-modern stadium. My hands don’t know the texture of a first class air ticket or how big size of paper, it is. My head cannot tell how new fabric would feel on my skin apart from mitumba –second hand clothes, rather how I would look like. I also do not know how losing a limb would feel like. But I know how it feels like to be swept away by the moment or losing myself to time.

However, I know how big my smile cracks on my face when am satisfied. I also know the number of letters my name has. Longinus.

I love knowledge, and so I am aware that Louis Vuitton is a top clothing fashion brand. If you know nothing about fashion, and less about the latest trends like Versace, Fendi and Gucci, or own no collection, relax, we have something in common. I don’t know everything either.

I am a Christian and I know how it feels like not to pray in a week or forget to meditate in the morning. I know the feeling of watching football on a big screen and owning many used bus tickets. In my head something always tells me that the sun never sets that it is always a bright new day to someone different around the globe in every hour.

What I also know is that I do not have the monopoly of knowledge and that wisdom is universal. I know you do not learn everything by reading big books and magazines, instead, being a good student of life is far from reading. I consider what I know as basic and I believe it can sustain me until I learn and experience more.

Here is what I also know. ‘I know somebody who knows somebo’… Aah! Just don’t read that, I know people!

If you are a practicing driver you have already met her, if you have not, then fate will soon bring you to her. If you don’t drive, relax, when you learn how to ignite the big engine, step on the accelerator and brake, putting your hands on the steering focusing on the road. You will listen to good music in your car and follow traffic rules and finally meet her. This should not frighten you. I am talking about an enthusiastic rider and a lover of speed. Who will accelerate and overtake you on high speed.

Immediately Anita finished her science degree and graduated from the city university she had no more options laying unchecked on her to do list. She had been in this city for the last six years. Now she was an architect both by training and experience. In a modern and competitive part of the world like this (Kenya) she had skilled hands. Apart from sewing her torn pants and washing her dishes clean without going through the dish washer or worrying about her manicure, Anita knew a lot of things. The city had made her a tough woman with a fully formed character. The city campus had made her learn drawing unique designs and become bold and confident. Her friends had made her a motorbike lover.

Riding on a scooter was fun but it became something cheap and less weighty, feather like dreams. A 150cc engine. That was what she rode first, a bike that she would sit with her legs together and her feet placed on a resting board between her seat and scooter’s arms. She believed there was more to bikes than just riding a scooter, so she learned how to ride bigger bikes. She was an admirer of speed, big and better bikes with bigger engines, bigger tires and colorful helmets. After her street training she went for a license.

Speed bikes hooting past her, rushed her adrenaline. Her riding experience stuck somewhere in her head. When she was alone she moved her hands as if she was accelerating a bike just in case her skills were fading away she could hold its tail and pull it back. She felt pain in her hands whenever she felt like she was losing the grip and focus of her mental bike. Her riding experience was found and left at the fields she used as training grounds. She did not see herself in the future riding.

At 24, the time she was leaving the city, she was not seeing anyone therefore leaving the city would not feel like she had left a part of her behind. She moved on. The look on her face was satisfying and fulfilling, so she packed her bags and left for the next town. She had a job offer as a delivery person. It would not be a bad hustle after all, she would be useful with her time as she figured out what to do with her degree.

Anita opted to live with her brother, Charlie, who had just sat for his national exams, KCSE (Kenya Certificate of Secondary Exams) and now waiting for his results. He was obedient and a good errand boy who would do house cleaning, cook and use the Wi-Fi subscription fully.

She worked on an average bike. A 180cc bike. She knew her road safety majorly depended on her decisions. She knew that she didn’t have to rush to be early but instead schedule her work in good time. And enjoy her ride.

Every riding opportunity has its untold stories.

After a successful day with around 20 deliveries made. All she wanted to do was get home in a few minutes and take a heavy nap. Meditate. And pray. She remembers; a rush of events, a scream growing and suddenly dying, screeching breaks, a big bang then a blur and total silence with sound sleep of no pain.

“Some things are never meant to be, everyone sometimes stares at what they like, love or do not hate and give it a second thought.” She says.

The next day came, that day her mother was a little confused. The first week of December. When KCPE (Kenya Certificate of Primary Exams) results are usually released. Charlie’s mother thought her son was calling to tell her about his KCSE results. When she picked that call there was a long silence.

All that Charlie did was to read what was on the small note.
“B plus” Charlie said.

His mother felt happy and proud, she thanked God for the hard work and good grades. But everything was wrong her mother’s joy was not on both sides of the phone call.
“It is the type of the blood ‘She’ need.” Charlie corrected her.

That is how the next chapter of her life would start. She left riding on a bike and came back pushed on a wheel chair. She would not walk again.
Anita is a rider who will not live all her passion.

I don’t know the exact measure of remorse I should feel for; her, those who have lost body parts or senses, the crippled, the poor, those in bad health, those who are hurt or those who never enjoy the good side of luck. What I know is all these people do not need our pity instead need our support!