Hell Broke Lose

Schizophrenia demons live in my head.

Wesley Willis


Picture this; I am in a washroom with my face bent over a clogged sink washing my face. The sink is disgusting someone just puked in there and it wasn’t me, I am gifted I handle my liquor pretty well. Outside the doors of this washroom is noise that now sounds like a boom box playing from the bottom of a well. My world is spinning and I can’t help but wonder why everyone seems to be in twos. All the while I am cursing as the rest of the guys I met in the washroom watch me with their zips open standing rather to close to the urinal careful not to fall in. Are they just too many to be in a washroom at the same time or is it my head playing mind games on me? I cursed so hard the devil must have been put to shame, lots of the f, s, b words and just about every curse word in the entire alphabet as we know it, to no one in particular, but the red eyed drunk and rather disappointed reflection of me on the mirror. Drops of water dot my face like many tiny rushes. It’s not uncommon for me to have this kind of imaginations. One time when I had had too much of the rose colored waters of life and I walked in a mad pool, I thought it was blood from my body and I even started weeping like a little girl. I stood there for a while in deep contemplation like I was trying to solve a chemical equation and my life depended on it. Given just how chemistry and my chemistry teacher were on top of the list of my least favorite things, rocket science would be an understatement, because I doubt I would get right the spelling of a three lettered word at the time. So if my life depended on me unraveling this situation I was as good as dead.

A little flashback so that I can get you on the same page of how I got here in the first place, frustrated, beaten and rather an eye sore to saints and the white God, Jesus is white right? A little past six o’clock in the evening my girlfriend called me, long after I had called her and said my I love yous, I miss yous and an early goodnight because I would not be able to seat in bed and flirt with her like we do every other night. I was going out, it would be too loud, I would be too occupied to check my phone. So she called back a while later to say:


“Steve promise me you will take good care of yourself.” Her voice firm and with a ton of motherly concern except she is my girlfriend, resigned that she could not be hard on me and tell me firmly; Steve I do not want you going out at night. She sounded as if she had this maternal instinct that something bad would happen or she had seen a vision of me angrily throwing my fist on a wall and crumbling down on the floor with my back against the wall as everyone else danced their hearts out. It’s possible she had a vision. She is more religious than I am, she believes, while I am not entirely certain of what I believe in because I fail to identify with all the foreign religions. My room is piled up with religious texts, the Bible, the Quran, Bhagavad-Gita and other Vedic literature texts. I wish my great, great, grandfather wrote a text on my true African religion, I would identify more with a black God, Obong’o Yakalaga, Nyasae, the God of the rising sun, the one who made us somewhere in Ramogi hills. I am not sure she saw a vision but I should have hid that warning. I would also have brought her along except she likes her life under the wraps, still and calm. I have however witness her whine her waist and she is pretty good at it.

“Sure sweetie, I will take care of myself, I will be fine don’t you worry.” I assured her before I hanged up.

Then on second thought maybe she was afraid of the ton of indecorously dressed women trying to put their paws on her handsome man with a sexy voice. Those are her words not mine. I would personally be scared if my girlfriend went out at night with or without me. Not with all the fisi(hyenas) of men and now the lions that roam Nairobi. I understood her fear and the justification in reminding me that I needed to take care of myself, I would not let me out in the first place if I were her, given how handsome I am. Would you let your man out of your site with every girl throwing themselves onto him? Luckily she is a lover of nature and she would rather spend time somewhere with trees and flowers trying to figure out their names. She likes the sound of rushing waves and chirping birds. Usually she will end up window shopping for flowers and trees she will plant on the front porch of our house when we finally move in together, soon I am hoping.

I received another call from Marlin’s mum later on. Marlin is not just my classmate but a very close personal friend who laughs at just about anything. It is easy to make her happy and stay happy around her because she sees me and laughs; she is so real and confident. Mama Marlin was calling to wish us a good time and then she charged me with the responsibility of looking after her daughter, she didn’t have to, Marlin has always been my responsibility. But it was a rather smart move of putting me in charge because Marlin is a disaster waiting to happen. I stop her from dancing very awkwardly in public like an insane woman and from flashing her middle finger to other motorist on our ride home from school. Everyone in school knows she is my piece of trouble some just assume we are dating and others think we are related.

“Don’t you worry mum, I will watch her with the eyes of a hawk, I won’t let her out of my site, not for a split second or two or even one shake of a lamb’s tail. If she does anything stupid I will tell on her you have my word,” and then I said my good night while Marlin punched me on the arm calling me a snitch. She calls me a snitch all the time, when I finish my assignments before her and submit them, when I remind the lecturer we had presentations or even when I simply raise a hand to ask a question or add my thoughts on a particular subject.

This post will be a lot about Marlin and I, so I need to say this so that my girlfriend doesn’t stop picking my calls or go all insane and track Marlin to her home with a pair of scissor. No she wouldn’t do that; she is rather too sweet and a bit of a crybaby. (Sweetie again, I said a bit not a total crybaby.)

Marlin and I dress a lot alike even on normal school days, we sometimes discus what to wear for class the next day, so with a big event coming up we almost formed a focus group of great designers to decide for us what to wear. Of course we didn’t we are just two broke campus kids and Marlin won’t buy into the idea of getting a sponsor for us, if anything she and another friend of ours have been trying to pimp me out to some old female lecturers. They go like: “Steve madam so and so was totally checking you out,” and I go like, “so?”

We dressed in black and white a common theme we like. She was in a short white dress, hugging her body rather voluptuously, (goodness I was dying to use that word.) It accentuated her curves, like she was chiseled to shape by a God, Black stockings to go with it, and a black blazer. I was in a white T-shirt, white pants, a black blazer and boots. We were set for a red carpet.


The night was beautiful, I love the smell of expensive liquor, the scent of mint tobacco, the lighting in the place that made my white look luminous blue, the overly dressed and the underlie dressed women, the lust of Nairobi’s night life that makes people run amok and lose their cool like the full moon on wolves, people become totally different. They let lose, some too lose, they do despicable things, and I like it. You are probably wondering why? It’s because I get to dance like no one is watching, no one is judging you and even so I do this in the company of total strangers I will not need to remember their names when the high goes low and loyal friends who get to see my wilder side and make fun of it later in good faith. Call me a sinner and pray for me all yee saints.

Marlin was in the company of a gentleman friend of ours Job, I am almost certain there is a relationship brewing so we can start going on double dates. As of me everyone basically became my friend after the first bottle. I said hey to everyone fist bumping the guys like we were old friends some even hugged me and I hope these dudes were not gay because I will soak in a bleaching agent and scrub myself with a brush. Without fear of contradiction my Africanism will not allow me see it any other way. I can’t tolerate gay men or women. I went complementing women on their looks but of course only those who deserved it, I found my way to the VIP lounge soon after, in this overly expensive club that I felt was a total reap off, the drinks were thrice the normal price and they did not sell my favorite whisky because apparently it was considered too cheap for this fancy place. I was fine just until midnight, slightly tipsy and in full control of my faculties before it all went south.

Marlin lost her purse with all her documents, phone and her cash. Someone stole it because the phone went off. I was devastated, we just had to lose her purse when I promised the mum that I would be watching her, meanwhile Marlin unaware she has lost her purse was out their flirting with Job while I ran around like a mad man chasing the disco ball around trying to find her, find out if she had her purse and when I finally did find her she did not have it with her. I spent a long time crawling in my fours trying to find the purse. You know how a serious occurrence makes one sober up quickly, I was all over sudden sober than a judge.



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