FUTURE FLIP ON MY HAND — DREAMS WENT MERE
Disclaimer: This story was written circa 2011/2010(unedited) so sorry for any punctuation/grammar problems you might encounter
As I was waiting for my turn to be registered and enrolled as a first-year scholar at the university. The place was vast and smart. Here is where you get the combination of beauty and brain. Ladies and gents are smart and amazing.
But my eyes were caught by one tall, muscular, black, and all-left-feet man. His big-like-orange eyes seemed like in no time they will drop. He dominated the place with his bowl-sized mouth which rained like how angry cobra spitting venom.
“Lads listen, I travelled by an amazing beast from my home village. It was long like a snake, speed like a panther, it could pass even between rocks.. It was made of steel from head to toe. It could swallow millions of people in its belly... “
From his accent, I recognized him to be HAA from Kigoma. This man made me burst with laughter to itch my ribs.
On that day I was the same Jane who was raised by a disciplined family in Tukuyu Mbeya for 20 years. It was not long before I met so-called modern ladies, Angel and Zainabu. They were the ones who drew the map to discos, nightclubs, casinos, and bars on my lap. They taught me how to dress in miniskirts, and stilettos and make me forget my knee-deep skirts. They turned me into a shopping mall-goer, not for window shopping but to buy anything I want, even to daylight-robbery prices to cut a dash. I owned any gizmo my eyes happened to glance at. They enticed me to drink, I started with beer to heavy liquor. I then turned an addict, sober up was a curse to me... Hangovers were my all days morning melody. I lost money hand over fist until my tuition fee smelled like hell. Secretly I was a junkie, I puffed joint and sniffed powder... a real druggie. I was egoistic, and reluctant to change on advice, I wanted all to be left on my own lookout.
When money from the Loarn board ran into a deficit I started to look for an alternative to cover up the gap I didn’t want the shame of being seen like a late 60s lady from Tukuyu in rags. I opted to trade my cute as dickens body, faute de mieux, for money to maintain my fraud rags-to-rich status. I lowered my body ice to anyone who could make my purse smile. I screw around with people of high caliber from tycoons to government officers. Some to my granddad's age... the word Condom was lacking in my dictionary.
This was not long before I started to drive my own car, I left no five-star hotel unattended. I cared less about lectures. I was like gold dust to be seen at the college. There was nothing to choose between me and the daughters of filthy rich men. I temporarily dated fresh brains in the class and lecturers, whenever an exam was around the corner. My grades kept shining with flying colors. My beauty was my tool. I was like Angel-turned-whore. I knew every type of man
That was three years ago, now I lay my match-stick sketch on the rope-sewn bed. I am left with nothing but my well-arranged 200 bones-like remains of Zinjathropus. My bright babyface, elegant African 8-figured curve, a look to impress, shining black skin, and massive luggage on my back disappeared.
I looked 100 years older than 23 years me. I dressed in new pale skin, full of scar spots. The hacking cough was eating me. My friends, teachers-turned-students were nowhere to be seen. I was a burden only to my mother who had just enough money to keep my body and soul together. It is when I remembered the welcoming poster at the college “GRADUATE WITH A’s NOT WITH AIDS’’.
I was now a college dropout with AIDS and no A’s. Always tears dug a Suez canal over my sweet-gone-cheek whenever I remembered those words my mama told me before I went to UNI “I have used all my money and energy for you to be here. I hope one day you will raise me to the clouds’’. Her hopes were mere, I have now disappointed and disgraced her... I went under her skin but she never abandoned me during this hard time I was passing through. She strained every sinew to take care of me as she used to do when I was an infant. By the skin of my teeth, I could hardly do anything.
Sorrow hugs me when my always-good-boy boyfriend dwells in my thought. He was handsome, genius, and generous. A good-hearted lad. He showed me the difference between passing infatuation and persistent sincere love. He was deaf enough to hear spreading scandalous stories about this stud, me. Blind to see half-naked pictures in the tabloid newspapers when I was spotted drunk. But I made him number two, money took the lead, his care notwithstanding. At least I was kind enough to send a real definition of a gentleman to the grave, kind enough to give him HIV. It was last week that I got a call that he hanged himself to death. The situation was heavy for him to carry nearly breaking his spinal cord.
Oooh, my son your daddy is gone and I will soon leave you on your lonesome, starving. I am on death row and I don’t know when is my time. I won’t give you fake courage, it is a hell life you are going to live... A real hell on earth. It is not your fault for being born infected, it was my own... I am so affectionate toward you but I can’t help it anymore. You could have been swimming in feces in the latrine pit like many others I had aborted before if it was not for your father. You a lucky to have seen sunshine. I wish all these were just bad dreams but NO it is happening.
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