Mulenga’s Diary; Chapter 2

Chileshe’s Journal.

I think this is stupid, Mulenga. I’m writing in my “diary”, to myself(and now to you) and I’m more worried about punctuation than content. What does one write in a journal when one has the best female paramour in existence?

This paramour being the one that later saves my life. I just used paramour to piss you off cause I’m dead right now and you’re obviously reading my secret journal. I feel pretentious for laughing on paper, so just know I found that funny.

Knowing that death is near, I documented my last thoughts for this shall we say, message in a bottle.

In my last days all I could think about was you, Mulenga. I may be gone but I will forever live on through my thoughts of you. I know you always hated my stories but allow me this opportunity to tell my eulogy the way I deserve it known. Here goes…

I met Mulenga on the hottest day these Zambian parts have ever seen. Even then I knew I was a lucky guy. I’m a cliché, I know, but you have to understand more than just a cliché; I am a passionate man with very few weaknesses, Mulenga happens to be one of them.

I am dead, but before I died I loved the last 5 years of my life because Mulenga made living life worth more than a lifeboat on the Titanic.

My life changed shortly after my therapist(Dr Mwenda) had just announced to the entire family that I had bipolar and she thought it best for the whole family to be involved. I dreaded the end of my entire life as I thought of it. Little did I know waiting outside Dr Mwenda’s office was the most captivating person, Mulenga.

As I walked out of Dr Mwenda’s office, I remember seeing a girl wearing a crown of the most amazing hair on her head, I looked her dead in the eyes and thought to myself, “My entire life is about to change.” Little did I know how right I was. Looking back to that moment I can safely say, believe in miracles.

A week later I was awoken with a pillow to my face. I remember getting up, being incredibly irritated and thinking I was ready to fight with someone only to be stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of Mulenga.

I always think back to that first time in my room, me with my dumb open mouthed expression and Mulenga comfortably sitting on the floor with the biggest grin waiting for me to get over the initial shock.

Worse still Mulenga said nothing but held a piece of paper that read, “Your parents let me in” My parents clearly were out to sabotage me. But for once I thank them.

Even back in those days it was strange, almost like magic, looking at Mulenga. It was like watching expressive dance, how she floated around, even her words danced on through my ears leaving me searching for more. You could say I was smitten.

I honestly can’t explain the feels, it’s one of those things; if you know, you know. A week after meeting Mulenga we became inseparable. Two peas in a Petri dish kind of inseparable.

A month after meeting Mulenga I decided to tell her I was mentally ill, certified by a doctor and everything. Telling her was more for my sake than hers, when your heart decides to love, what better way to protect it from such foolhardy talk than to find a way to break the forever after, before it begins?

We were playing FIFA with 10 minutes left and I was losing for the first time to Mulenga. So I thought why not kill two birds with one stone;

1. Tell her I have a mental disorder which should lead to…
2. Her being distracted enough by the news and me scoring to maintain my undefeated streak against her.

So I spoke, “Mulenga there is something I need to tell you.” She said nothing in reply so I figured that was her way of giving me her attention and I proceeded.

“The first day I saw you at the hospital, the doctors had just told me I have Bipolar.” Another round of silence.

This time I didn’t want to break it either, because I was defending my goal with my life. I remember, Mulenga got the ball with Neymar on the edge of the box and finessed into the top right hand corner of the goal. Set the controller down looked me dead in the eyes and said, “So?”

That was the moment I knew I’d been beat. Both at FIFA and evidently in life, for how does one counter against such a formidable foe?

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