It was the end of the year; December 30 to be exact.
2008 had been a gruelling year, with immense emotional travails, spiritual failings, academic disappointments, financial struggles, unachieved goals, and total weariness and near depression. It had been a period of pious highs and carnal lows and frankly I was fed up. Travelling Home for Christmas had been a most welcome agenda to the chaotic line up of activities that was my life.
Home sweet Home.
Whoever concocted that oh-so-delicious expression was right on the money. Why-oh-why do we ever leave it, to be honest? I know, I know, to gain new experiences, to expand our horizons, to learn, to be all we can be, to grow. Any other clichés I left out? Anyway, I had not been Home in a couple of years and it was so good to know I was returning to a loving, home cooked meals, non judgmental, need-not-lift-a-finger, environment where I was simply who I was. Me. Not colleague, or classmate, or tenant, or minister, or object of affection (or detestation). Just Me.
I didn’t even have a lot of money, but that didn’t matter much because you see Home differs substantially from Away. In my perspective, when on holiday at Home, money is the least of your problems. Not because my family is extremely wealthy because we aren’t. It is simply because cash flows freer at Home than Away. Away, you earn every penny you make, thus is harder to part; at Home the cash cow takes residence permitting looser wallets among friends and relatives. In addition the incessant need, by Home dwellers not to be outdone (and rightly so) by their Diaspora-ic peers, eventually worked to my advantage. I will now refrain from sounding like a very bad Economics text book for the time being.
Fun times lay a-waiting for me that December. Regardless of the fact that the Home bound airline lost my luggage resulting in my going a week recycling two tops, borrowed from my sisters, and the same pair of jeans, which ultimately meant my plans to unleash hot summer ensembles were untimely dashed, I still had such an amazing time in carnival city with my good friend from my younger college days who happened to get engaged that season, coupled with lots of heat, laughter and cute local celebrity blokes. Good times. For once I could just enjoy being young and free and not worry about how I was being perceived. I had no image to preserve or protect. It was liberating as well as refreshing and I was loving every moment.
So it was on December 30, following our return from carnival city that it happened. I met up with good college friend after enjoying a second trip to the hair salon in one week- unattainable feats Away- and we had stopped at a nearby restaurant for lunch. We were having a girly chat, taking in the atmosphere and planning the rest of our afternoon.
Then He walked in.
Now I wish I could sit here and tell you that I looked up, our eyes met and we were caught in a transfixed gaze which transported us, in a euphoric miasma, to the highest height of ecstasy while in slow motion the wind blew through my hair (or weave) and the angels rapturously sang a harmonious melody of spectacular glorification as I came into the consciousness that I had met The One.
But I can’t.
What I can tell you is, a large man-boy in a suit walked into the vicinity. Good college friend recognised him, gasped, stood up and gave him a somewhat awkward hug. I was vaguely aware of this clumsy scenario as I tucked into a quite delicious shawarma I had waited almost half an hour to get prepared. It turned out they went to primary school together. Introductions were made and to my credit I managed an almost interested smile and a small wave as I muttered my name in between mouthfuls, promptly forgetting his once he’d said it. I did notice, though, that at almost 6’5 he was scrumptiously tall, which would have been such an appeal if I didn’t think he was just too big for my taste- like an oversized teddy bear in the best possible way. He had a young face yet wore a suit – which looked a bit too big for him- and spoke so quietly you had to lean in and attempt not to breathe lest your noisy respiratory exercise drowned out his voice. Maybe this is why I forgot his name. I never heard it.
He moved on to join his companions after the brief greet and so naturally good college friend gave me the low down. Not that I had any real interest, but a little bit of gossip is always good for the soul, I say. Apparently he was once engaged to her friends but for reasons unknown to most people, it had been called off. She had even been asked to be a bridesmaid by the ex-fiancée.
At this point it occurred to me that there was too much vested interest for me to get into anything with Him even if I wanted to. How would good college friend feel if she heard I had something to do with her own friend’s ex? I know, I know, how do all these aspects concern me, right? I don’t know any of the parties involved and I had nothing to do with the break-up. But sadly, this is the sort of person I am. I never want to get involved in an issue if I feel someone I know will be affected, even in the slightest. And considering where I’m coming from there was no way I was getting mixed up in any sort of love triangle, as it were, yet again. May I state at this juncture that this train of thought I have in an almost carried-away fashion presented before you was all but a flash in my head at the time.
