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My-Once Molly (thinking of Valentine),














My-Once Molly… the girl who broke my heart, the one who got away, the one who promised me the world and left me to survive alone – typical of our Kenyan politicians… I hope you are good. Now, as February – the month of love – lurks about, I find myself thinking of you.

Thing is, my dear Molly, I have new neighbours. A young couple, very much in love like we once were. The young lady, her name is Val… maybe Valentine… I don’t know. This Val, a spirited girl with rich, deep, heaving laughter - almost like yours. Her smile… ah! You should see it. The shine of the morning sun distilling the dew upon cool meadows… I am totally in love with her. Alarmingly, she teases me much and I am getting ideas…

Molly, dear, wherever you are, please pray for me… the temptation is too much. If you don’t, the frail creature that I am may fall. This, despite having numerous songs in my playlist to warn me. Invariably, Majengo – that infamous locale – does a dishonourable appearance in most of them… ‘Majengo siendi tene…’, Joe Mwenda’s ‘Majengo’ – superb Kikuyu Blues, Kariuki wa Kiarutara’s ‘Nyumba Utarihaga’…

Apart from song, I am witness to a tale of stolen love that ended badly. Then, as a young man, I had ‘started life’… a single ‘mabati’ room with shared facilities that were communal taps, bathrooms and pit latrines. The bathrooms and latrines were sited at the farthest end of the compound and the lights there had long gone out of fashion.

Now, womenfolk are naturally curious and nosey. All along, I had been ignorant of the whispers, the investigations and the setup. I usually tend to mind my business – looking after elusive money and riches. Anyway, as the story unfolded… Omosh, Senior Bachelor and mechanic, his bathing time was 11pm. Omosh’s bathing time coincided with Mama Kui… the beautiful lady whose husband sometimes worked the nightshift.

Ah, much drama that day… First, a shouting and a wailing… we all came out armed with crude weapons, possibly to fight off thieves… Now, Mama Mboya was shouting for whoever had Baba Kui’s phone number to call him urgently. Why? Omosh, Senior Bachelor and mechanic, was locked up from the outside in one of the bathrooms. Stuck together, they were – him and Mama Kui. Anyway, the news people came, Baba Kui too, and a witchdoctor to solve matters… separation and all. And what a beating Omosh got from Baba Kui and the scandalised womenfolk…

So, my dear Molly, pray hard for me whenever you are. On that note, I am still pursuing end February as the official launch of my collections: ‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’ and ‘Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold’… nice stories, snippets, poetry and a play between them. Out of a total budget of Kshs 100,000 – I have managed to raise a commendable Kshs 300. I still believe in miracles and call on Kenyans of goodwill to support this noble cause via:

Buy Goods Till Number: 9080911, Gatere Mwangi
Send Money: 0708 276 622, Mark Gatere

Plus, my anthology, ‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’ is available at the Nuria Bookstore and you can get it via this link: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/ . That’s all for now my cutie pie. I have to go as I hear the landlord knocking and I am yet to clear January’s rent.

Your long suffering lover,
Sant Mark

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