Kenyagist….after smoking raw weed, this is what he posted...

….after smoking raw weed, this is what he posted on social media, poured his heart out

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Those who steal our hearts. Part 1.

A few years ago, I applied for a job in one of these top global agencies. I was called for an interview. I went. It was a sit-in exam, more of an aptitude test.

The exam was to begin at 9. I arrived. Security was tight as it is with this top global firms. We got to the room. About 10 of us. Some of the brightest Kenyans anywhere, because the qualifications were quite tight.

So, there I was. A humble village boy with these kids in spectacles and you know vile miwani zinafanya watu wanakua intelligent. I was honestly intimidated, because half the guys were in specs. But that is not the story.

My computer had a problem. Took a while to troubleshoot and thus, I began my test like 30 minutes later. And the examiner, a plump and fabulous lady, with some nice bouncy humour told me that I will be added extra time, not to worry.
An hour later, this girl walked in.

She is the type that you look at and you know you have found a wife. She is all you have been looking for all your life. She is everything you want in a woman. Everything you need. She was dark, decently tall, and beautiful as hell. But above all, she had this calm face, this mature gaze that I have hankered after, many a time. She is the type you marry and even if she was the worst behaved thing in the world, you will take it. I swear I have never seen such a beauty. I still remember her long black dress.

So, I look at her and I am totally taken. She came and sat next to me. Tears, man. I read her name tag, and to put some really good icing on the cake, she was Kisii, but with an English surname. That puzzled me. There is no beautiful woman in the world like a beautiful Kisii woman. Trust me on this.

Anyway, she sat down. Annoyingly so composed and was offered a computer and got down to work. She took some small Peek and Peel juice from her handbag and started to sip and I could notice she was slightly nervous. Maybe because she was late. Maybe because of the exam. But she was handling it well.

After two hours, those who started the exam earlier finished and we were left, the two of us in the room and the examiner who assured us not to be in hurry. And boy, those extra 40 minutes I spent in that room with her are among the best in my life. I couldn’t even concentrate. I need mention that she wasn’t like the pretty-cute, exciting beauty that turns heads. If anything she may be the unremarkable girl from accounts in your office. But she had the beauty that is personal. The one that only you knows why you like it. The type that you may show your friends and they will be like, ‘kwani anaona nini?’. I could picture having a son with her.

I couldn’t concentrate. I kept looking at her and one point we exchanged a look and I died inside. It is the look that restores your hope in humanity. The look that you want to swim with in some island in the Pacific. A look you want to receive you at home after a long day at work. I don’t know what she thought of me, as she was busy with the exam.

I finished the exam. And in a rare moment of confidence from a very shy man, I said that no matter what, I had to talk to her. Since she had an extra hour, I hang out on the lawn outside the pristine offices waiting for her. And I waited. When an hour and half went, and she didn’t come out, I was beside myself with grief.

I called my best friend to explain my predicament and this is what he said,
“She probably came in her Mercedes, and has left using the backdoor to parking. Enda upande matatu na uache ujinga.”
I walked to the stage, boarded a matatu and later in the day, I went online to Google her name. She is not anywhere online. Not on Facebook, not on Instagram. Not on LinkedIn. Not on Twitter. Not on Myspace. Nowhere.

Not a day that goes without me thinking of her. In fact, not an hour. No kidding, I have asked God, why the chance encounter. WHY?
Many a time I want to go to Village Market and chill there and see if she will come. Or Yaya Centre. Or Capital Centre. I have wanted to text the lady who called me for the interview and lie to her that there is lady we exchanged contacts on this day of the interview and I lost her contact and I have job for her. But rules of common decency forbid this.

Where is she? Is she happy? Does her man, if she has one, cook for her? Does the man cuddle with her, sharing silly jokes? Does she know that her soulmate is somewhere in Nairobi hurting? Does she think of me? Does she remember me? Where is she?

Here comes the worst part. My memory lately is not very sharp and her face has been disappearing from my mind and I am helpless. Will I know her, if I met her and maybe she had a different hairstyle? That day, she had cool Afro, so confident in her looks and style.
It is really frustrating that the job we wanted was a Communication job and Social media was a key component, and she is nowhere. I have used all the possible permutations of her names and she is nowhere. God, where is she?

A few months later I learnt that I had been shortlisted. And I went for the oral interview. I hoped maybe I will bump into her. But man, she wasn’t there. To be sure I checked the visitors’ book where we signed in.

Of course I didn’t get the job. And I have never seen her again. And I have never been happy again…
Now guys, is it just me, or have you ever met your soulmate, if only once? Are you frustrated like me? Do you feel like doing a crazy and desparate thing? And what should I do?

Adapted from Silas Gisiora Nyanchwani Facebook page

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