That Friday would pass as the most boring. Horrible to the core. First there was blackout. But who cares about blackouts these days in a third world Kenya? Not unless you’re an Internet nomad like me and you scavenge the Internet for a living and blackout means no power. No power means no Internet. No Internet means no work. No work reminds me of Jimmy carager’s explanation of the economic’s recession, inflation and depression. In his explanation he said, a recession is when your neighbour loses his job. An inflation is when you lose yours and a depression is when the president loses his.
Back to that Friday morning. Power went off then on then off again. I cursed. Then my laptop left the working table unaccompanied landing face down on the floor. She’s called Virginia. She lost her face. I became dysfunctional. Totally.
I picked my phone and typed “boring morning. Virginia just lost her face. Anyone who might help with screen replacement. Price?” I tagged her pic in her new disfigured face and shared in a couple of WhatsApp groups. What else do you do at that hour? Look, there you are serving a blackout with a comp which just lost a screen. It’s like how a farmer would hit the farm and his Jembe breaks at the midpoint core.
Some moody girl on one of the WhatsApp groups hyperlinking to my chat typed back “this is wrong absolutely. How do you call the comp Virginia?” (she signed off with an angry emonji) I could see her swear like she knows Virginia personally or someone long gone from her lineage went by that name. I wrote back “easy madam. We’re still mourning Virginia the comp (pun intended) and it’s still morning. Can we talk about Virginia the person later?” The rest of them laughed loud. I concluded they were laughing at the girl. Not my broken computer. I felt sorry for that moody girl.
In another group, someone else wrote in a boy’s handwriting “sorry Virginia for losing her virginity” I could read his dirty mind. I put in a rejoinder in a sombre mood; “be kind a brother is bereaved”. That person is heartless. He never responded.
For the remainder of the day, my inbox flowed with quotes from dozens of computer repair experts ready to undertake a facial uplift for our Virginia. I responded to a majority of them and bargained to near zero charge.
In one of the cases I sounded like how a mother who’s just lost a kid would sound. “See buddy. Times are hard. Plus I have just lost my comp literally. For the next a week or so, I am not going to earn anything. Why can’t you give me a fairer rate?” That chap took me serious and called the next day and halved his offer. In response I told him he gives me some time to heal first then get back. Sadly I am yet to get back.
What’s the point here? Most of the times we get attached. We get attached to things and people and places and pets. It becomes kind of hard to break apart. Such level of attachment normally is bad.