I smiled inwardly at the question. It wasn't the first time I had heard it and I doubted whether it would be the last time either. It always came by whenever a big job was brewing. I felt a sudden wave sweep inside me with the realization that a big pay was more than a guarantee. Yet I felt a bit of a disappointment that my resounding fame or, better still, my infamy did not precede me;
The Brazillian waitress who skid over some water and repelled a flight of stairs to her death; The taxi driver who drove off a bridge to the turbulent waves; The handsome guitar player who choked on his own tunes;...and my personal favourite,the husband who gave her dearest three year old child her last bath. Good times. He was a good husband. If only he had agreed to my pleasures,he wouldn't be in jail.
''Ofcourse,'' I answered after coming out of my morbid reverie. ''How would you like it to be done?''
''I want it clean.''
''Blood or no blood?'' I asked.
He paused perhaps to ponder my query. Then a menacing smile crossed his dry lips along with a low evil laugh that made my nerves cringe.
''I'll leave that to you,'' he said. ''In the meantime,care for some wine to celebrate a job well done?''
I studied him for a while.
''Who said am doing anything of the sort?''
I looked at the man carefully trying to decipher his thoughts. He was powerful. A man of ability. The worst species of men who never tolerated nagging women.
''What kind of wine do you have?'' I asked changing the subject.
''I prefer red. I hope you do too!''
Songs of Solomon 8.6; Love is as powerful as death. Passion is as strong as death itself.
Maybe this was the case for Ruth Ellis who, in a sudden bout of suspicion and jealousy, gunned down her lover David Blakely with a .38, at point blank range. She was the last woman to be hanged in Britain. Her executioner, Albert Pierrepoint, resigned. Yet in many cases it is not as a result of a man resigning from his macabre proffession that people go ahead to kill their loved ones in an ironic display of sheer passion. Take the above for example. A husband hires an assassin to kill his wife. A man with power, money and all the wealth one can muster decides to invest it all in his sweet wife's lush funeral procession. A person he sort after, liked and evolved to loving. Went to get her from her parents' home and, for many of us who are distinctively African, paid herds upon herds of cattle...just to kill her. What's wrong with people? Where is the skrew missing. Who did this to us? How can we get back from this bloody utopia and who can help us begin to appreciate life for what it is... LIFE!
A recent research was done on human beings and it was found that this planet called earth houses more than 8 billion people. Of this, 68 000 die every day while an estimated 50 000 are born. The causes for this deaths was sort after and they realized that on a scale of one to a hundred, 60% are as a result of fellow human beings. That is to say, in every 10 people who die, 6 are either murdered or commit suicide. Ex-soldiers in the U.S army are said to commit suicide about 900 of them every year. Lost teens commit suicide and murder every day. They abort, feel guilty and decide to get aborted themselves. A jealous husband kills his wife after suspecting that she is cheating on him. Forgetting that he himself has a mistress tucked away in his warm sheets.
Yet am not surprised.
How can people not get jealous if every day on our screens and billboads this us what we see;
WACHA MPANGO WA KANDO AU WEKA CONDOM MPANGONI!
In a soceity that listens to songs such as
How can an army veteran not commit suicide when his family is kidnapped and tortured till he spills information against the country he swore to protect.
We create bounderies,call them countries and swear to kill anyone who crosses them. No wonder we haven't made contact. If there are any aliens out there, they know we'll kill them if they dare to set foot in our planet.
Love turned sour. Passion,misinformed and then directed in the wrong direction. Issac Newton also had passion for his career for he calculated the precise position of every planet in our solar system. Thomas Edison also had passion for the light bulb. Da Vinci had passion for his art and the same for Michelangelo. No wonder we remember them. Great people who invested their time in their passion. What they loved to do. I look at this generation and at their passions and... I don't even know what to say. We are riding on the success of other people. Spending too much time in their achievements. Too blinded to create our own. Then using that energy meant to build our fate to not only destroy it, but to destroy that of other peoples' as well
If you didn't make it, it ain't yours. Enjoy it. Don't worship it.
Felix Joshua in his book ''what is in the mind'' says that poor people actually hate riches. I decided to put this theory to the test. So one day I got out of the house clad in some pretty expensive clothes. (Not that I don't put on good looking clothes all the time.) I then took to the streets of one of Nairobi's slums and true to the word, I got some pretty disapproving looks and even remarks under the breath. Now, forgive me if I sound proud for that is indeed not my motive, but just think. Not all rich people are bad right. They just worked hard and got money. Wearing a ksh. 50 000 suit is not against our constitution. These guys just don't like seeing anyone who appears better than they are. Hence,how do they expect to get any money themselves if they hate anything or anyone who has or appears to have more money than they do? Money is gotten from other people. And those people with it are called rich. Yet poor people continually ask for the same from a government that gets revenue from the them themselves. You don't get what you hate.They earn money to eat it all. No wonder an Asian will leave a poverty stricken place and come to a country with nothing. Ten years later, he has a stream of shops earnig him twenty thousand a month yet the very people he found are still crying out for the government to give them money to spend in his shop.
Two boys in the Rift Valley run to school every morning and back in the evening. An approximate distance of 15 to 20 km. On sports day they are asked to participate in a crosscountry marathon. One says yes. The other declines saying its hard. Ten years later the one who declined sees his friend on television crossing the finish line first and he thinks to himself, ''I used to beat him to school''.
The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be ignited. Like wine, it grows wiser and sweeter with age.
People need to wake up!
''You're up already?'' He asked half asleep.
''I can't sleep,'' I told him. '' I have alot on my mind.''
I sat up on the bed and focused on the room. It was well furnished with some of the world's most expensive linen and leather. The lights were off. The room was cool and dark. The only light was from the window as matatu touts shouted for passengers. Cars could be heard hooting in the late night traffic.
''Are you sure you want to do this?'' I asked him with that inner fear and anxiety that always came before I did a big job.
''Definately,'' he replied. ''Don't tell me you want to back out now.''
''Ofcourse not,'' I told him as I stared at my weapon. The edge of the metallic black revolver shimmered in the flouresent street light. ''I never back out.''
''Good,'' he said. He kissed me lightly on the forehead. ''You're a strong woman.''
''How sweet of you,'' I told him. ''Am never blind to such opportunities, for I'll end up hating those who exploited them, direct my passionate energy towards their blood only to be left to enjoy their legacies.''
''I ought to have married you,'' he said as he pulled the blanket over his head obviously impressed by my words.
''Don't worry. She'll be gone by the time you wake up from your deep Comatose.''
Wewewewewe, haiya! What awesome creativity? I was waiting for the point where someone dies......great piece
ReplyDeletethank you. The next edition wl probably hv sm1 dead.
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