Heartbreaks Are Loud (Nimewachwa)

There’s this concept called Love. Love is the beautiful madness of finding a home in someone else’s heart while still remaining yourself. Then there’s also Heartbreak. Heartbreak is realizing that the person who once felt like your favorite chapter has become a story you can no longer live in. Today we will talk about the latter. Heartbreak. You go through that experience and there is no coming out of it sane. The world suddenly feels too small for you to exist in. Every silence feels louder than usual and every ordinary thing somehow finds a way of reminding you of the one person you’re trying not to think about. I have never experienced “The Red Car Theory” in practice more than I am experiencing it today. It genuinely feels like the whole of Nairobi has a spotlight shining directly on me. Every stranger looks suspiciously informed. Every glance feels longer than necessary and everybody seems to know something about me that I never publicly announced. The conclusion my brain keeps arriving at is very simple. These people know. They know that I have been dumped. They know that the relationship is over. They know that Princess is no longer my Princess. Somehow the entire city seems informed, they know that…

NIMEWACHWA!!!

I am currently walking through town trying to clear my head. That is usually what people tell you to do when life becomes complicated. Take a walk. Get some fresh air. Touch grass. Well, I am touching grass, concrete, even the new Sakaja cabro blocks and several potholes but none of it is helping. My phone suddenly vibrates and a notification appears. Google Photos. “New Memory.” I should ignore it. In fact every instinct tells me to ignore it. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. I open it. The first photo appears. A selfie of me and Princess during a live music date. Google even adds one of those innocent little captions, “This Day Two Months Ago.” I stare at the screen then swipe. Another photo appears. Princess laughing. Swipe. Another one. Us posing somewhere. Swipe. Another one. At this point Google is no longer showing memories. Google is conducting a relationship autopsy. The final photo appears and this one is dangerous. It is that one photo. The photo where I look exactly how I wanted and Princess somehow looks even better. The picture genuinely looks like she was running a charitable organization dedicated to improving the lives of struggling boyfriends. The kind of photo that makes people comment things like, “Bro won.” Looking at it now however feels different because apparently winning can be temporary. I stop walking for a second, stare at the photo and reality taps me on the shoulder that she left. Princess left. Suddenly my smile disappears. The memory ends. I lock the phone, take a deep breath and continue walking while trying to convince myself that I am okay when deep down I know very well that…

HUYO ALINIWACHA!!!

I continue walking but unfortunately Nairobi has chosen today to become the capital city of romance. Couples are everywhere. Holding hands. Walking side by side. Sharing earphones. Taking selfies. Leaning on each other. Laughing at jokes that probably are not even funny. Last I checked I thought open PDAs are not permitted in Kenya but today seemingly that law was lifted. I swear there are more couples today than there are potholes and this is Nairobi. The more I walk the more convinced I become that heaven opened sometime last night and rained relationships directly onto the city. Eventually I get to the bus stage and board a matatu. As I walk down the aisle looking for a seat, I notice a couple sitting together. These people are deeply invested in love. The girl is laughing, the guy is smiling and they keep whispering to each other every few seconds. Normally I would not care but today they feel like a personal attack. Unfortunately the only available seat happens to be directly behind them. I sit down. A few minutes later the guy briefly glances back. Our eyes meet for only a second before he turns back. Heartbreak is a terrible thing because it immediately convinces you that everybody is talking about you. A few moments later I hear him whisper something. I cannot hear everything but I hear enough, or at least I think I do. The words sound suspiciously like they are directed at me. Out of all the things they could have discussed, they somehow seem to have landed on my current relationship status. By the time the guy turns back toward his girlfriend, my mind has already filled in the blanks and I am convinced he has just said…

HUYU NIKAMA AMEWACHWA!!!

I get off at my stop. The sun is beginning to set and that soft orange glow is spreading across the estate. Coincidentally this is always the time me and Princess usually take our evening walk to buy vegetables. It is one of those little routines that never seem important until they disappear. We usually walk together, argue about tomatoes, disagree over avocados and pretend we both know how to identify quality vegetables. Neither of us has any qualifications in vegetable assessment but somehow the debates are always passionate. Today I am walking alone. I arrive at my favourite mama mboga and before I even say anything she notices. People underestimate mama mbogas. Those women could solve criminal investigations. Within seconds she has already completed her analysis. I am alone, my shopping basket is smaller and Princess is nowhere to be seen. As she packs my vegetables she finally asks where my girlfriend is. I do not know if it was a genuine concern for me or just a problem for her since going forward, her revenue collection from me will now be reduced to half, because now it will be shopping for one and not two. I laugh awkwardly. The kind of laugh people produce when they do not want to answer a question but already know they have to. Then I tell her the truth. The woman pauses, looks at me, looks at the vegetables, then looks back at me. She shakes her head slightly as though she has just confirmed a rumour she heard somewhere and responds with the exact words I was hoping not to hear…

NYINYI MUMEWACHANA!!!

Back in the house I cook dinner and try distracting myself with my phone. Big mistake. The moment I unlock it, notifications begin flooding the screen. Most of them are from my friend’s wedding WhatsApp group that I had completely forgotten about. Me and Princess as part of the groom and bridal teams, had already been assigned roles. We were supposed to walk down the aisle together, dance together at the reception and pose for photos that would later become somebody else’s Google Memory notification. Our outfits had already been measured and tailored. Everything had already been planned. Apparently the universe attended a different meeting. The group now has over 170 unread messages. Curious, I start scrolling upward to understand what everybody is discussing. Somewhere along the conversation I notice people are discussing about replacing someone in the wedding lineup. A replacement partner is needed. I continue reading slowly and carefully. Then it hits me. The person being discussed is Princess. Since it is my friend’s wedding, she was only there through me as a mutual. Now she has quietly left the group. Word has already spread. In fact, judging by the confidence in these messages, everybody seemed to know except me. I scroll all the way to the top where the discussion began. One member had asked why she left the group. Another immediately replied, “Kwani hujui?” the member then said, “Hapana” , he never knew. Then came the response that perfectly summarized my entire day. The response that Google Photos, random couples, matatu passengers and mama mboga had all been trying to communicate from morning. The person confidently replied…

HAO WALIWACHANA!!!

I throw my phone to the side and collapse onto my bed. Evening thoughts become weapons. I remember our night routines, how Princess would let me play with her beautiful breasts, how she wore nothing beneath her pajamas so that if the urge took her, she could easily climb on top of me. I remember resting my head on her chest, more comfortable than any pillow, how we would fall asleep entwined. Smiling at the memory, I stretch my arm across the bed to reach for her. My hand lands on cold, empty sheets. Again sanity returns like a slap. I am alone and she is gone. I pull the duvet over myself, shivering in the June cold, my eyes already wet with tears that I refuse to shed. In my devastation, in my solitude, I whisper to the darkness…

YAANI NI UKWELI TUMEWACHANA!!!

To try and get some sleep, I decide to play some music because surely there is no way this day can get any worse. Unfortunately, before I can pretend to be strong, I find myself shouting at my phone, “SIRI PLAY THESE THREE SONGS FOR ME- INAUMA BY BIEN, OUT OF LOVE BY CHIKE and FINALLY PLAY THE OTHER ONE SANG BY BAHATI IDENTIFIED AS….

WATAACHANA TU!!!!