On the Love of Street Girls

There's this girl down my street. I like her. Of course her skin is black honey, and her eyes are wide, swallowing eyes; of course, she is as thick as untouched burger, and her hair almost always weaved in full, thick cornrows—but no, that is not what attracts me to her.

Mine is a truer connection. It's a deep calls unto deep kind of thing. No, I am not a simp. It is true love. Yes, Daniel, it exists. I made the mistake of intimating my brother of my feelings for the damsel. My brother, the scoundrel, chuckled and said dey play, then he went on to drag his left ear and offer the cliché mock advice: make money o.

Damn the boy. Doesn't know what it is to have found the one; the bone of your bone, the flesh of your flesh. I told him that he was in a different universe from that which Jack and Rose existed, and Romeo and Juliet. He pointed out however, to my embarrassment, that they didn't exist in any universe, that they were fiction. Defeated, I proceeded to ask someone who knew how it felt: my mother.

It was a mistake.

I came to her, one evening, while she was cutting oha leaves for the edikaikong we were to have as dinner. "Mama," I said, and took a safe step backward. What is it? she asked. Did I not have something to do? Had I taken my evening bath? Why did I not like bathing?

I had not even stated my purpose! Anyway, I mustered some courage and told her that I had fallen in love. What? The knife fell from her hand, flat on the board. My God. Fall into your books o. What? How old are you again? A plethora of questions followed, and then she listed a few of our neighbours' sons who had become fathers—the ones she referred to as Papa Bomboys. Do you want to end up like them? Take your time o. Who's that girl? in fact, she must see her parents, warn them to keep their daughter away from her son.

Later that night, during her midnight prayers, I heard her condemn to die by fire all the Jezebels and Delilahs that had been sent to steal the destiny of her sons.

Hey! It’s been a long while, I know. How’re you? I’ve been writing elsewhere, that’s why. Find my new writing home here.