SHORT STORY Aug. 16, 2021

I have never liked the sounds at a party. The sound of loud music in the room, the sound of lips kissing other lips, the sound of toilets flushing. 

But more particularly, I have never liked the sound of people shouting


Shot !!!


To me.

Expecting me to gulp what seems to be my hundredth shot, enjoying the drunker I get and making fun of my slurred speech. 

I have never liked this. Any of this. But I must do it. For her. Otherwise, she will think I do not appreciate this surprise party she threw me, and then she will conclude I do not appreciate her. 

What is a man to do? Take another shot? Okay,  I’ll have it. 

“Babe, uko poa?” she asks. 

Of course, by now, I can barely see her. She is all blurred lines of picturesque. But, I can see her figure. God, she still got it. 

I nod, or I hope I nod. Honestly, I am way too drunk to function. 

She smiles, or I assume she does because seconds later, the picturesque disappears, and I am left alone to my thoughts. 

Not for long though. 

“This is for the birthday boy.” I hear, and my eyes try to find the owner of the voice. 

Oh,. so I did nod, and she did smile. Was my nod an indication that I wanted a fucking birthday speech?

“Babe, I have known you for a long time. And all I want to say is, nakupenda kuliko kila mtu hapa.” 

A couple of boos in the air. Her best friends probably protesting. Jokingly. Kiddingly. Drunkenly. 

But does she though?

Does she love me more than anyone here? 

I stand up to ask her. 

I have to know. I have to. Does she love me more than anyone? Coz I do.

“Baaaabe,” I hear the slur in my voice. 

And then I see the heads turning to look at me

Am I standing up? Am I stable? 


What did I want to ask her again?

Oooh, if she loves me more than anyone. 

“Baaaabe,” I say and then, for some reason, I can feel my face on the floor. 

“Ouch.” I hear myself saying. 

Why did I say Ouch?

Oh right, there is an immense pain on my left cheek. 

Shit, did I just fall down? At my birthday party? When my girlfriend was about to give a speech about how much she loves me? 

There are a couple of laughs in the air, and then her picturesque again, taking my hand, lifting me up. 

She really does love me.

How did I get so lucky?

Should I tell her…?

Fuck, fuck. 

There is something rising in my stomach. 


It’s rising, rising, rising and finally, it’s out. 

Out of my stomach, onto her red dress.

“Fuck, Zaaaaazk, umenitapikia!!!!!” she says. 

No, she does not say.

She shouts. And suddenly, the whole room, if not already, turns towards us. 

I can barely see their faces but I can see their laughs. 

Cruel is what they are. 

Wait, did she just call me Zack? 

My baby, who calls Babe called me Zack? 

Fuck, what did I do??


“Babe,” I try to ease it for her, hold her hand but then, it rises again, and the second gush of vomit is on her feet. 

She screams once and then she is out of my sight. I vaguely see her best friends following, each giving me a stank eye. 

The person controlling the music feels pity for me, and puts it back on, louder than ever before. For once, I appreciate the loudness of the music. 

People seem to forget about me and they go back to kissing lips, grinding on each other and talking about non-sensical stuff. 

Now that I have let the whiskey out, I feel soberer. I rise to my feet and head to the sink to rid myself of the vomit. 

What am I supposed to tell Grace? How am I supposed to get her back? 


I hear a harsh feminine voice behind me. 

Who is she to tell me to hurry up? It’s my birthday. Didn’t she get the memo?

“Zii,” I reply, equally harsh. 

I am not normally a harsh person. But alcohol, alcohol always has a way of bringing that out of you. 

“Nkt,” she clicks then gives me a shove towards the sink such that my head almost hits it.

Infuriated is what I am when I turn around to face her then, I stop on my tracks. 

I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in my system or something but I believe I have just seen an angel. A rude, harsh violent angel but an angel nevertheless. 

She is dark. This angel. Darker than any girl I have ever come across. Her darkness is almost blinding. She blinds me with darkness. 

God, am I still drunk? 

What the fuck am I saying?

But she is blinding darkness. 

She blinds me and for a moment, I don’t think of Grace, or the party, or the vomit. I only think of her and her blinding darkness. 

“Wee, msee, hebu toka kwa sink wasee wengine wanadai kutumia.”

By wasee wengine, does she mean her?

Coz I would gladly give her my spot if she wanted. I would give her alllllllll the spots. 

“Baaaabe,” I hear Grace’s voice. 

Shit, how could I have forgotten about Grace? 

I love her, right? 


by Amanda Nechesa 62


  • 34

    June 9, 2020, 7:50 p.m.

    Blinding indeed

  • Madaraka

    June 9, 2020, 8:17 p.m.

    Love promised faithfulness

  • Who Knows

    June 10, 2020, 3:19 a.m.

    No you don't And you captured perfectly the plight of a light-weight kwa bash... Awesome piece

  • Kimathi Makini

    June 10, 2020, 5:04 a.m.

    Zaaaack! How could you? 😂


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