A short period after joining campus, I realized that my dream was not only getting laid. Among all other things I wanted to write. Write better than Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians, Philippians and Galatians. I have to say father, I really adore the writers of the Bible especially because they had the patience to write using a feather from a bird.
As we came close to the terminus of the first semester, I had written a few poems and scribbled something long that was supposed to be a book.
What was that father? You would like to see the book? I am sorry father, that book and many other things I am going to be telling you about are things I would love to leave in my past. Eventually, I begun writing on a blog that used to belong to a club, Bloggers Association of Kenya Dedan Kimathi Chapter. I must have been good because I caught the attention of many others and therefore the birth of dennispetersblog. I have been thinking however, about dennispetersblog and father, I think I should change the name of the blog, you see, I do not like the word blogger thaaaat much, therefore having it on the name of the website somehow beats the logic. Do you have any suggestions for a name for my website?
Okay, no problem. You are probably not the best person to ask that question anyway. I have come to learn that gloom places often make gloom ideas nonetheless, you need to do something to this place father, add some flowers or some party lights just something bright but I am no interior designer.
Where was I? So after the blog, I was not done. I felt the need for a bigger audience, people who would be silent when I spoke. Slowly, I started skipping my Computer Science classes, the calculus became a nightmare that haunted me in the middle of the night and the algebra and statistics classes weighed heavily on me. I was an artist dealing with the consequences of choosing a bad course. That was entirely not my fault though, I blame my high school teachers. Koelel High School was not a place for artists, it was said that failures go to university to do bachelors in arts. Engineering was glorified and commerce applauded, medicine worshiped and information technology extolled. When it came to arts, we made fun, bachelor of anything and that kind of unfunny shit we said back then. But there I was, wishing I had studied something that related to my passion, I would later come to leave School of Computer Science just a single year before graduation.
That was when I met Mose, a videographer in Nyeri town. He was a business man determined to make money and I was eager for a bigger audience. The two combined formed a symbiosis friendship. We came up with a magazine, Tamal, I am sure you might have heard about it father if you read magazines around here. So I worked on the magazine, gathered all the kind of content I thought people wanted to hear. I was a man with a calling just like you father. I wrote proposals to large business owners in Nyeri town, had lunch with big men with big cars on big tables. Some were mean, some were nice, some giggled at my inexperience.
I remember vividly a certain meeting I had with a certain CEO in Nyeri town, White Rhino Hotel, a guy with a serious face, a big cheque but a fucked up lifestyle. I could tell because all through the meeting he kept on yawning. The meeting was around forty-five minutes but he had ordered four beers and emptied all the bottles during those forty-five minutes. He looked hangovered and I could barely get anything helpful from him. He looked at his beer bottles more than he looked at me. My proposal was that he would buy the last page of the magazine each issue for a period of an entire year. With this page we would publish marketing content for his company. The guy seemed amused at my age first so he asked me how old I was and I think that was where I lost the bid, I was nineteen years old. I could not be trusted, I was so inexperienced and to him, young people lacked consistency. To be helpful, he said, he would sign the proposal after the magazine had been running for a whole year, which was when he would invest in what he called ‘newspaper’. I was disenchanted.
The CEO was right however, Mose and I broke up when we could not agree on the amount of shares each board member would own. He wanted 60% and I was offering him 12.5%. The company was a sinking ship and not even a lawyer could save the fragments of its existence. Again I was on the streets with burning school grades and no company. Father are you still there?
When Tamal reached an untimely culmination, I was broken beyond words. A relationship that had taken so much from me and screwed up my grades suddenly wanted a divorce leaving with all my savings, decency and innocence. Your God had abandoned me and I had a new lesson – in business you have no friends.
Be it as it may, I had Cheryl, Oh Cheryl bless my soul!
Feature Image by Mukiri Gitiri