Dear Blog

I promptly need to vomit on you, dear blog, because if I don't I might do something stupid.
(I have already consulted my own wise counsel and decided that drinking to a stupor, today, does not count as something stupid)

Where do I start? At the beginning, I guess:

Yesterday I was going through the motions of revising and reinforcing for an MCSD exam (that I took earlier today). You see, this exam is a nasty piece of work;
Therefore when a good friend of mine called and asked if I have the stomach for one or two beers (this is where mathematics does not hold true, because when someone says 'come I buy you a beer', you end up drinking six), I had my misgivings.
But somewhere along the way, my brain also decided that it is also made of very stern stuff. It told itself that it would not have come this far if it was stupid. So I promptly banged the book shut, pressed ctrl-alt-delete and marched out to Hornbill.

Where nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Things really started happening when I stepped out of the matatu, on my way home. I peered up the 100 or so meters of dark road to see if any evil lurked there. Seeing nothing, I made dedicated efforts towards my house. At about half the journey, a burly man stepped out of a local pub, pulling a woman along by her hair.

A heated argument was in the air. But before the could get her point across, the man punched her in the face and she doubled up into the trench, which is full of mud. He did not stop. He kicked her, then he grabbed her hair and yanked her up to her feet. The whole sequence took five seconds. In that five seconds my drunken haze lifted. She was screaming for help, jumping up and down. The man, apparently decided that his fist had not caused enough pain and was looking for something to hit her with. He did not have to look far. Somewhere in the vicinity, there was a high heeled shoe, hers. The other shoe was nowhere to be seen. As he bent to pick the shoe, she wriggled free and ran to me.

The man immediately pursued, the one shoe raised high in the air. The lady grabbed me by my midsection, swung me around such that I now faced Goliath: The grip was one of desperation. It was deadly. The shoe buzzed past my ear as the man swung his hand down with ferocious force, aiming for the woman. My shoulder collected most of the impact. The man moved around, raining blows. The woman moved around, and moved me around too. I collected the blows.
At some point I think, the man did not see any difference between the two of us; Blows started coming indiscriminately. See, here I am trying to unlock the vice-like grip; And my face would be left exposed. And a stinging slap would ensue. I would then try to cover my face from such assault. The woman would get free reign of my mid-section and jerk me around like a rag doll. It was a lethal and ghastly dance.

When I realized I could get seriously injured, I told the man that I would easily kill him if he hit me again. I managed to pick a huge rock and hurled it toward him. That generally managed to instill some small measure of sense in him. He relented, and stepped back half a meter.

The strange thing is the lady kept declaring her love for the man, and saying that whatever he was accusing her of was not true. The man re-read the charges, for my benefit:
The woman had apparently f*ed the whole of Dam. (I almost grinned here, circumstances not withstanding)
She had misappropriated some Kshs 200,000 he had given her for a project with some men, again from Dam.
Many other accusations, which escape my memory at present.

We are almost at my gate. So the lady stands between me and him. She does not want to go with this beast, and I am trying to make away. Try to save these damaged people and you see how much drama you get into. Ask TD.

The man would get a fit and try to knock her down every now and then. The man withdrew and told her:
Why don't you go and f* him as well: (meaning me). He then walked off with a very determined stride. The guilt bit to the quick. She ran after him, apologizing. I followed. He walked through the flat's gates, (which is next to my flat). Immediately she was in, the man bolted the door. Then he slammed the chic very hard into the stairs. She let out a hollow, haunted animal sound. Very disturbing.

The beating began again.

As for my paper, I failed that. Don't feel sorry for me. I could have read for a whole year and wouldn't have passed. A convergence of unhappy circumstances. In any case it isn't me who is paying. Yet.


Thanks Blog, I feel much better. Hornbill here I come.
TearDrop, you will forgive me for borrowing the title.