love dilemma 💔😁😁🤭

Guys, nishawai waambia nimekula dust hii kanairo? There’s this girl I used to kuchumbia when I was in college. We actually went to the same primary school, but back then she never entertained my nonsense at all.

Fast forward to high school, we met again during a funkie when I was in Form 4. We had visited their school—and that's when things started. Later on, I was living in Mlango Kubwa, and she stayed with her aunt in Kahawa. For the longest time, I tried to persuade her to come visit me, but she wasn’t having it.

What I didn’t know was that her boyfriend was consuming all her free time. Slowly, I lost interest. The guy was a fundi wa stima—well, a student in that course. Eventually, he left for Mombasa for an internship, and suddenly I became her only option. Out of nowhere, she started dropping texts one after the other, and I said to myself, "My ancestors have really fought for me on this one!"

She sent me back to the days I used to buy unlimited SMS bundles just to chat with her. I went back to my original pleas: “Come and visit me.” That’s when she confided that she had a boyfriend but they had broken up—he had left for a job in Coast.

Not long after, we planned a date. She was to come on a Friday since I only had one morning class. And I couldn’t miss that class—ata nikiwa na mgeni. I wish you saw me that Friday morning. I stepped out like a man in black, rocking a clean pair of Timberlands.

Now, those who know Mlango Kubwa can bear witness—it’s always muddy, with thick black mud. You can imagine how that would look on my Timberlands. So I had only one option: take a longer, less muddy but riskier route to Karambe, instead of using the usual shortcut near Mkoko.

Almost at Karambe, I met two guys I had befriended for security reasons. Ras was like, “Boss, kwani leo what’s up? Hii si class look bana. Lazima unaenda mahali serious—usikose kutuletea kitu!” We exchanged pleasantries, and I crossed the road to catch a matatu to town.

Taking a mat was a luxury I couldn’t afford daily. It usually meant skipping lunch or squeezing supper. But today, I couldn't afford to mess up my Timberlands with that Kariokor dust.

I got to class, but I couldn’t concentrate. Good thing it was just theory. Every few minutes I kept checking my phone to ask, “Babe, umefika wapi?” A few minutes to 11 am., a text dropped: “Nimefika. Niko Commercial.”

I tapped my neighbor, told him I had to meet someone in town and would get the notes later. As a true son of Metumi, I rushed to buy some airtime so babe could tell me exactly where she was. I placed the first call—she didn’t pick. I nearly fainted. I thought she had played me. But a minute later, she called back.

I told her to hang up so I could call her back. When I did, she couldn’t explain where she was. I told her to ask someone. She turned to a watch repair guy, and the mzae told her she was at Tusker.

I was like—what the hell is Tusker? Do Kenya Breweries have a branch here in CBD? It’s not that I didn’t know town, but I had never heard of Tusker as a place.

So I called my walking Google Map—my cousin. He used to be a taxi driver in town before life in Kanairo showed him vitu ni different, and he went back to his mum’s place.

Luckily, I’d spoken to him a few days before, so there was no guilt in asking for help. He told me Tusker is that stretch between the Ronald Ngala–River Road junction and Tom Mboya Street. I bet even some of you didn’t know that.

I called her back, told her to relax—I was on my way. But just before I hung up, she mentioned she was near the entrance to Tusky’s Magic. Now that was a live pin location.

My college was around Assanad House—I can’t remember the building name, but I remember Assanad because of the bombing incident.

I rushed past Tusky’s Beba Beba, bought three tea scones and a litre of soda, all packed in those branded Tusky’s nylon paper bags. Then headed straight to Tusky’s Magic.

Babe was in a grey short, a white top, hair nicely done, and her pant line was... let’s just say confusing. She was glowing. We hugged for a good 30 seconds—I felt like a real king.

She handed me her phone to carry, saying she felt unsafe in town. Kanairo ilikua imemshinda. So we started walking toward OTC to catch a mat.

Five minutes into the walk, her phone rang. I handed it over. Guess who? Ngugi Love.

Her mood changed instantly. She looked panicked, picked the call while glancing around nervously like she was being followed. Then she hung up, pulled my hand, walked me like 10 meters ahead, and said her boyfriend had seen us and she didn’t want to cause drama.

Ndatigwo meni.

I felt like crying, honestly. After everything—nimeachwa, na nimekubali.

Later on, she confided that the guy had never even gone to Coast. He just had a new girl and didn’t want babegal to visit and find out.

Did she eventually come to Mlango Kubwa?