Chausiku: It’s complicated

Thanks to facebook, now the whole world knows about our ongoing blackouts in our relationship. My heart races, once I see a notification. My thoughts speeding recklessly, breaking all speed limits on the way, asking myself, did someone comment on our status, or did they just click “like” on one of your beautiful pictures? And you’re beautiful, look at the Serengeti, the Mountain Kilimanjaro; and how you wear that snow cap on top under this hot tropical sky, only you know how. But it’s very unfortunate that we find ourselves writing our own “the notebook” version of heartbreak.

You have let few people abuse your state of mind, leaving me alone in the dark, not listening to late night love songs, but to an orchestra of mosquito violinists. I wish I could say their violins synchronize well with my eardrums, but irritating is what they are, holding me hostage inside the net.

I miss the candle light dinners, how romantic that was, but today I lit the candles to see my way around the house at night. I lit the candles not around the table, where we held our wine glasses to make a toast for prosperity. But today I hold a folded newspaper, ready to attack one of these blood-sucking mosquitoes. It’s even more heartbreaking to know no roses can make it right; no kind of chocolate can sweeten your heart, only a dance in the rain can start to fix things, by pouring your hydroelectric heart with love again. I feel like I’m looking at you hooked on a life support machine, and there is nothing that I can do.

I pray and pray for us, because darkness represents evil, and I fear the devil is here, hiding in the dark. And the electricity problem keeps casting its shadow further and further. But where are the exorcists, to cast away these evil spirits that have come between us, between us the people, between us being first.

I’m ashamed that we still have these childish “no electricity” fights in this 21^st Century. I know we’re young, only in our fifties. That is still very young. We’re young individuals with old souls. In the contrary, our old souls are not bringing wisdom, but corrupt thoughts. Who’s that that came in between our loyalty, our patriotism to our love, who, who? Life used to be simple when we were not as intellectual as we are today. I thought education will make our heart grow fonder for each other, and make us stand for the benefit of our future, but I guess I was wrong.

Where do we go from here Binti Chausiku. I know I promised to love you through thick and thin, but even the heart has its limits. And we both know a rose does not grow in the darkness, because it needs the light for photosynthesis to blossom.

Chausiku, the light from the kikoroboi will only hurt our sight, and even turn our vision squint. Our eyes may be young and sharp, but I fear they’re being  overwhelmed by our souls that are powered by bald heads with hollow brains, so it seems.

Thanks to the social network, because some of those who have come between us are on facebook, just a click away. In real life they may be living in gated communities, riding in their shangingis that are too high for them to see my despair, but on facebook, I can at least tag them some of my photos, to see the reality that I’m living in.

I want to see your white bright Colgate smile again. And even though I know life is giving me lemons, I shall not make any lemonade; after all, my heart is already bitter enough, fizzling like a shaken Pepsi bottle that will spare no one with splash of bitterness once the top is let loose.