THE 7 OH 9 GUY

​Maybe we’re perfect strangers,maybe it’s not forever.Maybe the life won’t change us…Maybe we’ll realize,we’re only human.Maybe we don’t need no reason.~Perfect strangers[Jonas Blue ft JP Cooper]

I am contemplating on whether the ticket prices for Diplo’s concert are reasonable and whether I will part ways with that amount which I could use for a little adventure like ziplining but isn’t Diplo’s performance going to be a night affair that will stamp a lifetime memory in me huh?So many questions, such inadequate answers.
Hoot hoot!
This thought train comes to an immediate halt.
Lo and behold!
He was in a black sweater and some navy blue or dark blue dresspants and some nice chelsea boots,brown ones,ones that resembled the colour of coffee beans.

He carried a water bottle,a Sport one.I saw it when he was dangling it and I thought it was empty,you know considering the fact it was in the evening,the sun had already gone down and wisps of darkness had started seeping in, clearing the daylight subtly ,until I saw him drink from it and my inner voice just yelled a bless your soul at the top of her lungs. A guy carrying a water bottle always sent a message home.

Always did.

Because there was always a story to that,for some reason, that I am yet to figure out.

I was already playing our water conversation in my head.I am very fluid as you can sea.Anyway I digress, as always.

As I am just thinking why the heck did I not refill my bottle we could be water buddies for all I know ,I see one of the homeless kids ,who are always hanging around,walking against the direction that we were taking and once she sees a human being sauntering down that road she quickly scampers towards him and lifts her little palms, already cupped.
“Uncleee!” she whines in a really small voice.I could imagine the number of times she had said that today to the number of strangers walking by. My heart was silently sobbing for this poor little girl.I quickly check my pockets for any coins and I recall that I always put my money in my purse which is far when I calculate how long I would have to take to get to it, I frown but my heart warms at the gesture the 709 guy was extending towards the little girl.
He stops,takes some coins from his right handside pocket, crosschecks them or counts them ,I don’t know which of the two and hands them to the little girl

(He had stopped walking and I was still walking.I did not want to overtake him,so I was macktime-walking this whole time)

I smile and so I decide to look at him close enough .We had walked for close to 120m, him ahead of me and me trailing at the back with a 2 and a half metre gap in between,he had turned twice already to check who was at the back.A petty buglar, a stalker, a kidnapper, a crazy ex perhaps.You just never know these days.Personal security checks are key. He clearly was not an oblivious walker.

I keep up with my scrutiny,not as microscopic as I’d like but this would do for now.He was holding onto his bag tightly,too tightly if you would ask me.I could already tell that was a laptop in there he’s holding onto with his dear life. He had slung it over his shoulder blades,not the really cool ones but a decent bag all the same. We pass the first estate ,he does not get in,yeees ,I could hear that little bitch in my head.I inwardly roll my eyes.Suddenly,out of nowhere, a hiccough started rising from my throat and forcing its way out but I managed to suppress it partly as a loud unpleasant sound erupts from my mouth, he turns again and I almost ask him for water with my eyes for that split second but I decide against it and blink severally covering my mouth in the process, after I muttered a muffled ‘excuse me’.
He does not turn right either,where the 2nd estate is located and my hopes rise by like 0.0000000078X that he may come from my estate which was still ahead,that just this once I would make friends with my neighbours, I mean him ofcourse, not the old chaps living in my neighborhood,that I will put an end to my solitary long walks to & from school, at times a little company does no harm,yes?

I keep watching him and what I thought was his gait and posture is actually a limp,he seemed uncomfortable and I felt concern wash through me.A series of questions were on my tongue already,holding to the restraint(my buccal cavity hehe) tightly not to unleash any thing; have you applied pressure to that point huh? Applied any ointment, deep heat ,fastum maybe?what happened? Basketball,football or is it rugby,no you don’t look like a rugy guy,no offence or maybe you were tackling a roommate and things turned sour for you?Huh?

I guess in the end we’re all human, a little too much at times. I felt so human that I wanted to reach out to this stranger and ask him all questions that were going through my always busy mind, and when he did not turn left as I headed to my estate,my heart dropped to its knees.I felt like asking him where home was,embrace him in a warm hug and tell him to go safe and watch his back too and to call me when he arrives which could or could not break into a longer wonderful conversation; few jokes here and there ,several bad puns, lamentations about how terrible Nairobi weather is,crazy exes, revelations about presumably a new weed supplier ahem buddy , biko zulu, milk and unga prices,poetry maybe, monglebacch, shitty music and we would see where the night would take us but I could not,because that is what we did to ourselves,not that society ever shoved it down our throat.We made it a wrong thing to do such little acts that are always screaming love makes the world go round.We made this earth unsafe for our own selves. We became less trusting and more doubting.We became more about self.And because of that my 709 guy slipped past me just like that,like sand through my fingers.
Even if I see him tomorrow in school, I would not place his face because I could not see his whole face clearly and even if I did see his face and place it quite well in bright daylight,there was nothing I could do about it even the common robotic ‘hey there’ but I know for sure our eyes will talk,that unspoken satisfying conversation that eyes have the power to hold.
And with that I bid my byes to the 709 guy who had no clue of all this that was going through my busy mind, who maybe had boarded a matatu headed to his place or maybe lives the estate across the road or down the road; so many possibilities exist here but till then he will always be the 709 guy.

Stay safe 709 guy.

And if you ever stumble upon this piece about you,please tell me if your foot recovered and resumed to it’s normal posture, I bet you have a leisured,laid back posh walk, I was taking notes,remember?

Simple-Be human,that’s the whole essence of life.❤

P.S-709 is 1909 hrs in common lingo here in most Kenyan towns,seven oh nine.
joymoraa©
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