Nothing spices up my Monday like a weekend well spent. I enjoyed the company of good friends from back in my campus days and it was simply the most beautiful encounter that I have had this long and dreary month.
I spent Saturday evening with my mentor at a nice cafe in the town center, then picking second-hand novels from her favourite vendor on her way to the bus stop. I took a vehicle to my girlfriend’s place and spent a few minutes with Lydia and her boyfriend, Mwanga. Naturally, he was left out of the conversation for the most part.
It rained as if 7 rainmakers were out dancing for mother nature, so there was a blackout for about an hour. Lydia had been gracious enough to let me have some quiet alone time to myself so I could enjoy the peace I rarely experience during the week. So I lay on the bed, two flaming candles dancing in the cool evening air, and wrote down pointers for the pieces I would write during the week. When I got tired of being so serious, I lay on my back and listened to music on my ipod – a little Daughtry, some John Legend and a lot more of Acoustic Alchemy.
When I woke up, the aroma of the pilau rice and tomato soup garnished with colander, which I had had for dinner, was still wafting into the bedroom area. It was still raining. I smiled to myself as I imagine that the rainmakers I had thought about the previous night. In my head, their strength had began to fail and they walked about wearily, trying to keep the rain falling as steadily as they could.
Hellen arrived while I was doing the dishes. Just as I have depicted in my short story about a reunion with my college roommate, I screamed like the mad woman that I am around Shiku and my closest girlfriends. Right away, we began to go on and on about the stresses of living at home, our mothers’ draconian rules, the weather, the men in our lives, our other mutual friends and plans we have for the future. Later, Hellen got me a bunch of movies and copied them on my laptop – nobody knows my tastes in entertainment like she does. We talked and laughed some more before Lydia came in. I was still in the red dira I sleep in.
The premises almost came down once the lady of the house had come in. There was so much laughter that there were also tears and stomach pains! And who would have stopped us from sounding our feminist drums in Mwanga’s very presence? My mother would not be proud. She is empowered in every sense of the word, but she is still an African woman if ever there was one.
When it was time for serious talk, there were several interruptions and asides. We wrapped up hurriedly and promised to do it all again next weekend while we plan a launch for a business idea that has grown bigger than any of us had thought it would. Or maybe I just speak for myself. The word “business” only ceased to have its nauseating effect on me a few short months ago.
On my short trip home, I kept thinking is how beautiful my life felt at that particular moment in time. In spite of the weekend blues, I am still thinking the same thing today.