Man was not born to love alone ...

Anne-belle and Ali-belle are the most amazing women I have ever met in Nairobi.
They are very ambitions and very capable. And maybe, that all they will be. They are fine women.

Since our separate meetings that was by default, I realised -- and they have failed to -- we are very susceptible to useless mood swings and childish emotions in the exercise of our judgement, maybe unaware of the way we can be swayed by such forces unless other people tell us or until we lose it or survival faculties.

In a few occasion we chatted heartly in the Graveyard, they were articulate women who packed punches in their voices and slipped kicks in theiy lyrics I can hardly forget. All tailored to speak the truth like Angelina Jolie in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
Their lines of thought, often thoughtful, ambition, often ambitious and dreams, often dreaming, but have helped me stay on track and in tune and eventually see another day in this world where survival is based on the fakest and not on the fittest.

God bless them for the sake of those they are dear to or who are those dear to them or both.
Generally speaking, they are fine ladies but mysterious of sorts because nobody knows whom they sleep with. Who they sleep with. How they sleep. When they sleep. And they like it that way. And thus they have 100 percent of female power intact, ready to manouver a free lunch, beer and taxi home, Monday through Friday.

What an unfair world! They seem to fail to understand that and maybe they may never get it before el - Nino comes.
"It keeps people guessing and wanting to know more," a woman told me, justifying why she likes being, or attempts to be mysterious in an era where being mysterious seems to be the best way to live.
Months earlier, Ali-belle had asked me what my plans, if any, were in this world. I had no answer at that moment because life seem to move on a lopsided part, rewarding those who do not work. My colleague, whom I had mistakenly invited to one night-out confidently answered her: "Sex." "Women are there for sex and procreation, after all, if not, why should people marry." My opinion remains undiscussed, for now.

Guessing? Well, Anne-belle might be right, but she confirms what many people fear to speak out, but agree that sometimes we live in the most pothological and horribly cynical world -- a world that is as awful as Arabian nights where majority hoplessly. "I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year-old again," a woman blogged recently. The belles can now understand.

Or as Pauline, my other friend, says: "We might go to the moon, mars and the Ivy League. We might have shitloads of cash and a line-up of sexy women within a phone call away. We might get a cure for AIDS, cancer and Hepatites. But we will never get happiness in this world unless we get way of reliving the primitive life that our forefathers lived."

Quite honestly, much has happened since I last met them -- and subsequently made desparate attempts to meet again, but in vain -- but mostly deep inside me. Several times I spoke to them about the realities of this cruel world reflected this private quest, but all this blogging and frequent visit to the Graveyard with some of my colleagues have really been about walking my way free of forgotten events, uncertain future and the an unavoidable present.

This two women need to be confronted as one day, very soon, their own denial will bubble to the surface like lava in a volcano -- Mount Nyiragongo in Goma -- than a corpse returning to the surface after nature snuffed life off it.
I am looking forward for another foray with the belles, if any, or a drink with John Michael.