A man and his stories

A man and his stories

800 533 poetnari

There I was, loosely holding on to my third shot. You had sat next to me for an hour now and I could feel you giving me frequent glances. We were the only ones left at that section of the bar because everyone else was at the lounge watching a match. I came to soothe my ache. I had a rough week making money in all the wrong ways and I thought I needed a break. I needed a break from life. I needed a life. I was about to go for another shot and you finally made a comment…

”Utakunywa mara ngapi ndio uache kusikia kiu?”

(you were smiling when asking this but I felt a sombreness to your tone.)

Ungekuwa na mashida zangu.. ungekunywa kama mimi…” is what I threw back at you. Ukasema:

”Hutatosheka bado…” 

Initially I appreciated that you were the only one who came up to me and wanted to keep me company but at this point I was offended by your bluntness so I sipped my drink in your face and slammed it back on the counter. I was telling you to back off.

Deep inside I was disappointed by my shallow. I wanted to push you away. I really did. But I noticed your face was nowhere close to looking disgusted. You were making yourself comfortable in my space. Why were you still here? Leave already. Go sit with someone else.

Needlesss to say, I appreciated your company and I genuinely thought you were better off sitting with someone else who would reciprocate your vibrancy and cheer.


Restless, I would drift in and out of conversation with you. I’d stare into space and ask myself questions too painful for me to answer. Like ‘where will I sleep tonight?’

I looked up at you, when my phone rang the fifth time that night. And I knew you most likely saw that I had five different numbers saved as ‘babe’ And other pet names like ‘boo’

”who’s he?” you ask innocently.

”nobody…” I say, with my head now hanging lower than my esteem.

I was glad when you made a joke about how you would never want to be saved on my phone as babe and I felt the warmth in your laugh…

You’d see my dirty linen but you had a way of covering up my lack of moral.

And in my head I’m thinking: you’re probably a good man with a wife at home and you’re here with the boys but you… I don’t know… got bored with the game? I wished you’d spend time with someone worth the while.

Okay then. I will give you an ear. That’s the best I can do. And this seemed enough for you.


By now I was enstranged to my glass and we were well past small talk. I kept signaling the waiter to take back my usual train of orders as soon as I saw him walking up to us. As my company for the night you were quick to notice and you asked me why I wasn’t thirsty any more. I asked myself the same question but when you saw I wasn’t about to answer you said ”Let me tell you a story.”

And so it was, that I let you tell me stories for the rest of the night. You are a gentleman. Very open to reason but all the same well versed in what you believe and who you think yourself  to be. When you speak the weight of your words drop in my spirit and leave an echo all through my inner man.

On that night, Everything you said settled me and unsettled me at the same time… I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew my life was about to change.


I laughed and cried more than I ever did in all my years.

4.00 am…

Saturday morning…


There’s a first time for everything.


Ten months later and I still unpackage your words in the middle of my days… I still remember your stories. I remember your gaze- longer than life.

I’m out of rehab now. It feels like I have been walking out of graves since we last talked. You unsettle me enough for me to want a new start for myself. You unsettle me enough to make me desire more from life than what I have accepted.

I moved out of the house I was living in with the bozzo who told me I was too slow to go back to school. And I… are you ready? I applied for admission in design school and I just got in!

I still don’t have means of income aspecially after quitting my last job. Going back to my last job would mean going back to the places I felt suffocated by. No more strings. No more strings… I’m free now.

You said that God will make a way and I’m still banking on that. Will it be like one of the stories you told me where, the woman with empty jars of oil ended up having more than she wanted and used it to keep her son happy and do business? The woman who was visited by a prophet. Yes… that’s what you called him. I never got to ask you if you were one yourself… or if you were bigger than a prophet.

But I know you were more than a prophet because you filled a hole in my heart that was deeper than the depest abyss. You’re the man in your stories who they called Messiah.


~ The samaritan woman at the well in the 21st Century
1 comment
  • artoftheperfurmer 26/07/2019 at 11:45 am

    For He will have his bride free of all her guilt and rid of all her shame and known by her true name.
    Beautiful piece ❤❤

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