Author Archives: murayaa

My Confession, My Truth


“If my mother ever discovers this secret, it will kill her. To her, I am the face of  sanity, purity and all those other adjectives she likes to plaster on me.

I’m her favourite daughter, the one who she hopes  to give away to a  responsible young man in a church wedding. She likes to make fun of how jelous her co-wife will be on that day.  “Tabitha will choke in bitterness when my princess finally gets married,”  thats how she puts it.

Being remorseful  will not be enough to sooth her bruised  ego  or heal her broken heart when  she finally finds out.  I look forward to that day of doom as if it were  the return of  the Messiah.

I can already imagine how she will react. She will wear  that look she gave me anytime I spilt her milk. That look that  anyone would want to flee from.

She will convene  her believer-friends to intercede for her daughter whom the devil is determined to destroy. They will all fast for days in solidarity, she does the same for them anyway.

Emissaries will perhaps  be sent to me to try and speak sense into my thick head. I  know I will tell them to mind their own business and I loathe it.

As I lay in wait for that day,  here is how it all started. I left home to go to college,  to make myself and Mama proud. I had the vigour of any lady of  my age who desperately wants to make it.

Whatever happened between that day and today, I  hope to find out some day. All I know is that  my phenotypic and genotypic make up do not marry.

Naturally, am supposed to like men but I don’t. I should have  crushes  on hot guys and maybe blush and  fidget in their presence. I don’t!  On the contrary, this only happens with fellow ladies,  like my current “boyfriend.”

Trying to fight it has proved futile and am not complaining. The only thing that worries me is my mother. What will she do when she finds out that am a lesbian?”

Her confession still plays in my mind as if it were a favourite tune. I must admit that jaws dropped at the realization that my best friend is “awkward” but life continues.

Sometimes, all that people need from you is a listening ear and a shut mouth. Is that too much to ask?


My Maiden Heartbreak; Born Out of a Silent Love.


I have for long tried my best not to write about me.  For a considerably long while, I have successfully steered away from airing my life but this cannot be held back.

Have you ever had a  pressing urge to tell  a story, not to one person but to the world? Mine is a sentimental one, a love story.

A story about a man I loved in silence, waiting for a time when I could have him all  to myself.  A man I will continue to love even in the next life. Sometimes I wonder if he knew how happy he made me, even with the psychological distance between us.  Yes, psychological distance.

Didn’t I say it is a sentimental story?

This guy had an  okay physique, one that only a few more possess to date. He always flashed a milk-white smile when he was happy and I always blushed on impact. Rolled back sleeves were his trademark. I still find it attractive *winking.

His drunken laughter is what I miss most, not to talk of the liquorized aura that announced his presence. To date, I hate too close  proximity to drunken men but this one was exceptional.

I loved him most when he was drunk!

It was only then that he had time to tell stale jokes that always left people in stitches. Even when he was telling a joke for the hundredth time, I laughed as if I had never heard it before.  On such special “occasions”, he would help in preparing the only food he knew how- to; Ugali.

The people you want to stay always go too soon and the converse is annoyingly true. He left, or was he taken away?  His love affair with liquor cost him his pair of kidneys. He  fought the demon but it was stronger than his will to stay. He gave way.

Being a people person, and one riding on  an enviable corporate career, the loss was felt far and wide. With me, it was as if I was watching a play. I waited for the curtains to be drawn, to see the thespians  come forward and take a bow.

I watched  his daughters and wife mourn him and I sincerely pitied them.

At the replacement of my milk teeth, it came to my knowledge that  it was my loss too!  My  first man was gone for good!   I shed the tears I should have shed more than a  decade before.

That is how long it took me to swallow the pill. It dawned on me that I had lost a father, a friend I was about to meet. More often than not, the wish that he was still around crowds my mind and I end up in tears.

My maiden heartbreak  remains  edged on my memory. Maybe the reason I will never forget this man is because he was gone too soon.  Gone before we could have a relationship; before we could talk and  before he could see my next man.

In  honor of my best man, I have vowed to love people in the moment.  There is no guarantee that there will be a chance to open-up to a person in the days to come. There is no right time to allow people into the heart except the present.

Are you shelving a fond feeling while waiting for the ripeness of time to show it to a person?  You imagine that there is still time left, a future. The sad truth is; the only future we have is now.

If you love in silence, the heartbreak will be so loud that the whole world will hear.


No Wedding, Marriage Please


I have recently had the privilege to witness a separated couple tussle over custody of their son. Trust me; you don’t want to be in that woman’s shoes. Having witnessed their marriage and break-up, I’m left with more questions than answers on marriage success.

Marriage is probably a common denominator when it comes to the dreams we all have. I cannot get more honest than this; am not sure I still long to take the plunge.

Is it that people change after days of living together reducing them to mere housemates?

Take a step or two backwards. I am still not sure if I need a disclaimer before I speak my mind. Maybe this will do: I have nothing against marriage, I also hope to get married one day and more importantly- I am straight.

Ladies want children but not all of them want the man to tag along. Some people will blame it on modernity or permissiveness in the society.

A shocker of a survey released recently confirmed my fears. Six out of 10 women in Kenya are likely to be single mothers by the time they are 45 years old.

Look around you, how many single mothers do you see? Get some pebbles because you’ll definitely run out of fingers.

Society will baptize it as a moral rot on the side of ladies but I think otherwise. Where are the “proper-mannered’’ men who fathered these children?

They are a picture of failed marriages or a newly developed phobia for commitment. Who wouldn’t be afraid of condemning themselves to solitude the rest of their days?

Any time one says they fear commitments; they are labeled perverts. These people are just being honest, a virtue that idealism will never afford.

My reason for thinking so results from a craze you may have noticed as I did. People are getting into marriage as a destination and not as part of a life-long journey.

There’s more to life after “I do,” a fact that we have refused to acknowledge. While wearing the blindfold called a wedding, couples are walking themselves into a life imprisonment.
In this case, I prefer a state convict who has a chance of getting out alive. I dread the thought of having to spend years beside regret, if you get what I mean.

It is better to remain single than die of heart ache. Patience is what we need in abundance, even though it looks like the gold rush is already into our heads.

Get off the wedding craze and start getting married.

A Typical weekend in Campus


Campus life is fun for those who have tasted it and more fun for those who have adapted to its swings. Weekdays are characterized by lecture activity with less unrelated activities. The larger percentage of comrades is busy furnishing their CVs as they hop from lecture hall to another.

One would wonder what keeps these people going with assignments and reports to submit almost weekly. Ask an honest one and they’ll tell you that a degree is a communal affair. That’s a story for another day.

Saturday is one wonderful day and most people will confirm. One has woken up to their day off bookwork and is feeling light and liberated. It is that day that when your lecturer is the last thing that crosses your mind, unless your lecturer is also your landlord.

It is also this day that others wake up to nurse sickening hangovers, evidence of their liquid reunion with beer bottles after a sober week. Someone else is somewhere nursing a broken heart that suffered a major stampede in the Friday night escapades.

Given that the next day is set aside for being spiritual, it is time to clean up yesterday’s mess and look forward to a less boring week ahead.

The girl next door has just been dropped at the gate by her ‘uncle’ who picks to see her ‘grandmother’ every Friday. She hallows past the ‘good girls’ who spent the better part of their night in a believers’ fellowship somewhere within school.

Someone else is having his time alone with his books after failing to take notes the entire week. It’s time to attend passive lectures with a comrade’s notebook clumped up in the library.

Another will choose to sleep the weekend away and get over a torturous CAT that gave all the indications of retaking the unit.

The streets of campus are buzzing with activity as students walk in and out of campus, just to breathe some fresh air. It is time to make desperate calls home for those who are still dependents, making sure to paint the perfect picture of a broke in distress.
Come Sunday and places of worship, within and outside campus are thronged with worshipers. It is that day considered as one set aside for making up with the creator. Nobody wants to be at logger heads with “the one up there” with a new week smoking ahead.

However comrades choose to spend their weekend, they have one thing in common. Everybody wants to relax and have a good time, after all who else loves books other than the bookshop.