The Blackness

Have you ever been consumed by the feeling of loss and inconsequentiality? Looked at the world, seen the amazing things around, wowed by the skyscrapers and the extensive jungles, overtaken by the top of the range machines as they cruise on the endless roads; thought of Ruto and the helicopters he is buying every now and then like mtumba clothes in Gikomba and felt the inconsequentiality of your existence?

Have you ever stood by a window on the 17th floor of your work place and looked around the city? Drove your eyes across the horizons, tried to trace the sources of the billowing smoke far in the distance? Thought about the crawling traffic way below in the streets? Seen the way in which the sun reflects stunningly on the glass walled multibillion investments across the state? Watched  the birds travel past the triple-glazed glass that is so clear that the panorama is like a high definition screen at the movie theatre , buffeted by the winds that whistle through the tower, as if to remind you that you’re in their space now?

Have you ever sat by a river stream and watched as it headed towards the heart of the sea? Easing it’s way through the rocks? Have you watched it move round the meanders, vertically down the hills? Eroding, smashing, bashing, crashing at the rock, accelerating down the waterfall and gurgling over the rushing rapids, thrashing, dashing, swishing, spinning, through thickets and bushes all along supporting numerous life forms?

Have you ever stood on the balcony on a night that Kenya power has decided to flex its muscles? All around you’re surrounded by a blackness that is so complete that it obliterates the memory of the day that had just been? With thick clouds above and no relief from either the moon or stars? You feel the darkness seeping up through the joints in the floorboards and from dark corners and crevices. The feeling that the blackness forms from some primeval hatred, and the collective despair and pain of all those that stand on balconies like you overcomes you as your eyesight can’t proceed further than just a few meters in front?

The world around us is copious and numerous in so many ways. Our actions sometimes don’t seem enough and the lack of positive reception by their intended addressees doesn’t help things at all. The frustration gets unmanageable and all you want to do is shout, have a tantrum and beat your hands on the ground like a toddler. You want to vent, let it out, but you don’t want to say words you don’t mean. The hurt is a spider web, intricate, yet strong. You know in time it will pass and the sun will regain its warmth, but the elation from your heart is gone. Over time you get addicted to the soaring pain and you feed on it to survive. You become contingent on the hurt to remind you of your humanity and vulnerability. It becomes your support system at the same time being your expanse of retreat when the cruelty of it all gets too strident.

I also have and I can tell you that its darkest just before the first rays of sunlight. I never take credit for being the most optimistic of persons because generally I believe the world is a shitty place but I believe there’s a reason darkness was separated from light. So at times I let myself swim in the fleety dream of a brighter tomorrow; I let hope bead my skin like dew on spring grass. I allow myself to feel it radiating in to soothe my blood. I let it form perfect spheres, each one like a tiny world of its own. This is informed by the fact that I can’t know for sure that today will be better than yesterday, or if this is time I win, but I let myself be optimistic… So should you.


2 responses to “The Blackness

  1. This >”The frustration gets unmanageable and all you want to do is shout, have a tantrum and beat your hands on the ground like a toddler. You want to vent, let it out, but you don’t want to say words you don’t mean.” and this > “but I let myself be optimistic…” re quite opposites, i take the last, so should I.
    Great read as always

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