MURENONI KANGOGO

I am so horrible a dancer that I don’t normally define my dancing as ‘dancing’ (if at all it qualifies to be termed as such) but rather as a ‘moving’. While others go to clubs to sing and dance to hip-hop songs or or others attend weddings to sing and dance or even others sing and dance to circumcision songs, I go to church to sing and ‘move’. So I pass by this church this Sunday and hear of a pastor praying hard. Whether he was praying or crying, I can’t tell as instead of pausing to take a breathe after commas, this nigger produced a certain sound that resembled that of someone with a hiccup. He thus literally sounded like a baby who has spent several hours crying and exhausted and the loudest ‘cry’ he can afford is that of a hiccup. I busied myself with my journey cursing the pastor. My curses were however short-lived and upto now I am sure they didn’t go anywhere beyond my nose as I remembered one day I also cried in church like a hungry breast-feeding baby-gir...

  It’s 12.03am on the 3 rd of March and, notwithstanding the fact that last evening I went to bed as early as 8 on the Pm, sleep has refused to come near me. I am here asking myself deep questions and I am receiving no concrete answers: ‘Am I going mad?’ ‘I think so...’ These are questions I am asking and answering them myself: ‘Why not see a psychiatrist tomorrow then?’ ‘I will see into that...’ That word “psychiatrist” got into my head and rang a bell then I remembered when, still a student, I one day paid a visit to that university psychiatrist going by the name Dr. Awiti, or was it Owiti?. Something like that. This wasn’t any ordinary meeting as I had previously come but had found him engaged and so we had to set a fresh date. Tuesday, at 11am we settled.   Tuesday 11am came by and I get into his cubicle office. He welcomes and offers me a seat, then those normal pleasantries from doctors followed. I stated my purpose of visit,...