Wednesday is right around the corner and I can literally smell the redness of the flowers and the wine as the sickly darkness of the chocolate dances around my lips. ‘Tis the season. Post exams, happy-go-lucky, and all the good stuff that comes with celebrating a practically made up event, during which, there is no break from work or school, made up as you can see.
Valentine’s is an elitist celebration. For the Have’s. Definitely not for the Have-Not’s. The Have-Not’s, it has often been assumed, are the ones vending the flowers, wine and chocolate. They are the ones taking all those candids of you and bae.They are the ones to whom the ever noble task of hanging-line watcher is given.
“Aki Jacky, sitakuwa leo afternoon, si utanianulia nguo zangu uniwekee kwa bed? Alafu Suzie anafaa kunirudshia blouse yangu, mwambie kama hajaifua ajue kama ndio atatumia kuchunga nayo chai.”
See, purely elitist. Jacky will probably chill, listen to music, paint her nails, and take milk. Later, she will have to stomach all the stories of how, ‘Valentine’s Day is the best day of the year!’ I salute you Jacky. You should probably cut back on the milk though. Jacky will go through February not hang up on a cloud with pizza and a bedsitter in Roysambu. Well, maybe she will, but, for a whole different reason(s).
I am obviously rooting for Jacky here. She is a stoic creature, having to listen to all the ceaseless chatter about Wednesday. Jacky’s mind goes something like: Every day is Valentine’s Day on this cloud I am riding. She will take pity on this other one, but they are friends, and friends don’t voice their pity out in the open. It’s going to be masked in the new weave Jacky will suggest for her the next time they are at Best Lady. It will be in the way she almost whispers into her phone trying not to giggle as she exchanges voice notes with… Find yourselves a Jacky.
My take? Valentine’s Day is a day for people to force their emotion down everyone’s throats. Most of these emotions are actually second hand, only good enough for show. Then, when 15th comes knocking, we take these back to the storeroom and lose the key. Till next year, hopefully. If you enjoy it however, by all means go out and paint the town red, literally. Unto each his own, they happened to say. However, be safe. Don’t take risks you wouldn’t normally take under normal circumstances. Look out for sex predators. Enough of me sounding like your middle aged aunt who volunteers at Sunday School. Have a good one.