Creative Nonfiction Romance Teens & Young Adult

Egyptian Gods

I am sure the ancient Egyptian Gods are gliding softly on their cloud chariots above laughing mightily at my folly. Such a folly made of my outlandish whims. To be candid, maybe it was more than once. On times too many, I lost my one and only, befitting the title 'better half side of my heart' - the soul searching after my own.

My folly resulted from the single most selfish deed that led to losing her. Maybe I chose to. I mean, she is still within the limit of my reach, but she won’t be eternally so. But, I remember, yes, I finally have after years, of how it felt to have her. Having her close enough to make flowers sprout in the creeks of the tomb of a heart - I so lost calling alive. Yes, she made life shoot from my stone cold dead self. Gently, from those crevices I had long lost hope cleaning. It all came back to me via a dream. 


There she was, immaculately cute, after all the time away from each other.  How it came to be, I can’t comprehend. I just recall she was next to me. Next to me again, of which I had dreamt in years ere. Where on days, on those majestic castles I built in mid air, she was mine to behold and stare into her eyes. Smell her delicate sweet perfume, glare at her succulent sweet smile and search through her facial features, to see if she could still be mine again. 

Tonight, in my dream, she was all mine. Even for a single second that extended a lifetime. A singular fleeting moment. I knew I was dreaming, such a rare state, to dream yet fathom it so. In light of the fact, the weariness of soon to wake up and all your dreams of old opulence - be robbed by the light of breaking day. 

There she was, swinging her braided hair to her back. This is how I remember conversing with her: at the University park. With all those Thompson’s gazelles grazing peacefully on those lush green grasses. With the meandering river separating where we sat with their grazing fields that evening, the sun setting on those lasting Ngong’ Hills in the distant orange horizon. 

Nyathi: “Bimri, don’t tell me with all the beautiful ladies the world has thrown your way, you are still miserable…” 

Me: “Yes, they are beautiful alright, for some other hot sensual entanglement purposes… Not emotional reasons though…” 

I hadn’t finished explaining what I had to say, when she ensued laughing. Let me help you understand this for a second. 

Her laughter was golden. Gold being spun in the air. She always seemed to close her eyes while laughing in glee. She could half shut those eyes, while her head tilted back at an acute angle. Then you could hear it. Those air waves as they passed through her larynx. Compressed to form silent yet thoroughly audible short spasms of joy. I always loved her Southern Africa accent. You could hear it, when she spoke, sang, laughed or when she quietly whispered in one’s ear. 

Back to the dialogue. 

She totally understood my predicament and ironic statement. That is why she laughed so hard! Maybe she was happy that I was miserable, maybe she was sad for me really, or maybe both! Or, maybe, just maybe, and this is the good part; she still wonders too, how great a couple we would have been,  if I hadn’t let another person swipe her off her feet at a moment of weakness: but a moment of strategy for him. (Or maybe that’s just my make belief ‘maybe’ scenario. Still, it’s a valid one.)  

Nyathi: “You are hysterical Bimri, what happened to you? You need to move on, be happy, life is short!” 

Indeed I knew that. Life is fast now, years after I graduated from University. I had gone back to our University for a thesis research paper I had to present with a co-author who needed me to be there(in the dream). Or else, I swore never to be back at that hole. Where I lost many things I had once so held dear.

Me: “Nyathi, I wish it was easy. I wish it was so.”

I said that to her with every hint of a broken heart. Yet, it was my demise that had set this center stage. 

Then I saw her take a few braids of hair from her back side to the anterior view. She just kept fondling it until Mikitta came, her friend, who we never got along with at all. That was my cue to leave, and that’s just what I did. Not knowing I was going to wake up from my sweet dream. I wish I could have held on to her for a little bit longer. 


So here I am, writing all this as the rays of sun hit my window panes, yet in pain I sit here and plan my own salvation, from all the sins I transgressed to myself and her more so. Redemption must be nigh, or else I am doomed to eternal damnation.

Selling my Soul to Bimri

He was a delight; both in mind and in heart. Who flourished and dwelled within me days long after our brief encounter reached its terminal state. When sleep became elusive, he came forth from his permanent residence in mind to warm my life. God, why did he shrug and fail to take me for himself?

To say ours was a complete union would be an understatement. My comedian gentleman of an audience of one, me. The ease with which he filled my life with bliss, mesmerizes me. He would hold my chin into his comfortable hands and reach depths within my soul with those stares that stupefied my being to forget all nouns to describe myself, including my name.


In the city streets of Nairobi with its skyscrapers, we'd hold hands and I'd feel giddy like a chubby child I was when young. He'd watch me laugh and utter, "Wow. Your laughter is soulful. You're just so cute." My lower lip could quiver, sending waves of ecstasy to my core when he said just sweet nothings. You know those tingling sensations - where one minute - it is as though butterflies are having a circling festival in your stomach. While a carnival ceremony with all its throbbing drums and beats march in your heart. Filling your whole being with euphoric feelings of those early stages of falling for someone. 

I loved him for his comely face. For his zealous work ethic and charming smile. To top it all, I loved him for his well thought out worldviews. He was an empirical pragmatist. He could discern between black or gray, the white from the cream and lived out his truths! To the fullest. He was a pillar to lift the maladies of my life, from my frailest moments to the stormiest-darkest of nights.

I was his princess, an empress of his heart. Until she came. And he thought her prettier and more intriguing than me. I must have ceased to exist supremely in his mind evermore. Let me assert that I could feel the apocalypse beacon its approach to our fortuitous encounter.  The day when it dawned on us is still crystal clear. If only I went for a fortune reading in time to abscond its impending gravity that tore my heart asunder! I was no longer the apple of his eyes.

For months on long, I fasted and prayed, hopeful he'd return to his senses. That he'd realize the rare ruby he had thrown in the gutter to have been worthwhile for him. That I was the true seeker for his endearing love. Those prayers must have lingered in celestial traffic jams; for my heart withered in patience.

Recently, I read his blog post of his `Egyptian Gods` article. Nyathi, my name was all over his site. He called me his Muse that he was bemused by for eons to come. Silently, a tsunami of nostalgia drowned my mind, wondering what could have come of us if fate was only a little bit kinder. It was sort of awkwardly weird. He, stumbling over his words and me, lost for words. I am told that happens when too much water has passed under a bridge.

Me: (chuckling) “Bimri, don’t tell me with all the beautiful ladies the world has thrown your way, you are still miserable…”

This is me pretending to not care(extrapolating on his dream). But I secretly hoped he was. I mean, who doesn’t like to be missed and the universe finally restoring order for the meek! I wanted to hear him say I was a different kind of being altogether. And he did.

Bimri: (Looking weary and beaten) “Yes, they are beautiful alright, for some other hot sensual entanglement purposes… Not emotional reasons though…” 

Me: “You are hysterical Bimri, what happened to you? You need to move on, be happy, life is short!” 

Bimri: “Nyathi, I wish it was easy. I wish it was so.” (He seems heartbroken and it is kind of thawing the ice in my heart. And I hate it.)

I take a few hair strands of my braids from my backside and play with them in bid to dissipate the growing tension until Mikitta asks me to go eat before the meal gets cold. She closes my laptop by force as she points me to head into the dining room… and she saves me before I pick up my phone to sell my soul to Bimri. Again.

November 19, 2021 22:43

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