HOW I GOT HOOKED TO A “RASTA”

MY PERSONAL DIARY   

With Fiona Jacques Manda (La femme fatale)

Dear Diary

I know I have taken a while since I gave you the latest gist about my otherwise complicated life. It makes me feel better coz ey! You really do listen to my griefs, felicities, and all the crazy stuff.

Diary, I ‘m pretty sure you’ve been raising eyebrows on who the lucky dude who’s gotten hold of my heart, is. Well, having been silent for like ages, I feel it’s high time I let the cat out of the bag.

Have read somewhere that real love shouldn’t be planned. I never subscribed to that up until…well, you know, it fell unto me.

It was summer time, a time like this one last year when I started seeing this guy with a rather fresher look. I’ll call him my Rasta. (please, don’t ask me why?)

Frankly speaking, I wasn’t in the mood for another tiresome relationship with anybody. Not just yet. But hey!! There came this Rasta into my life. Guess what? It all started where I’m being trained into this other industrious career. Well, I won’t go into the nitty-gritties of his physique, but just know that he’s one of the most amazing ones my eyes have ever seen.  Crazy that I was his tutee. Every time I’d a problem regarding my academics, he was always handy. By and by, I started becoming closer and closer to him, academically of course. There’s nothing much. Little did I know our friendship could graduate into…well, you know.

Time is the greatest master of them all; and he really showed his greatness unto us as this one summer afternoon, the centre couldn’t hold anymore. It was bound to happen. We finally, (read officially), cemented our hidden feelings unto each other. It’s now an item.

Happy as I was that I’ve finally have my catch, there were other complications. How would I handle myself considering our other official business as a tutee and her advisor? How’s he gonna be handling hisself to his fellow members of staff? How, what ifs?? All these raped my mind. I didn’t know how I was gonna handle such a pressure.

We kept our love-relationship a secret for a while, coz diary, I didn’t want to give an unsoundly impression to the people who surrounded us.

Of course, those around me started smelling some ‘fetid’ air around us. Though I kept myself mute, not divulging anything, it was evident to them, that there’s indeed something going on. In no time, I could be affronted, being called displeasing terms and the like.

I had once given up, I saw a bumpy road ahead, and there’s no way I could try convincing myself we could last. But then, there’s this other inner voice that kept me going, encouraging me to see it through. I listened to it, though with some doubts.

As our camaraderie kept on thickening, there was organized an adventure to some well known area of tourist attraction up the northern most part of Malawi. This is where all the doubting Thomases were given what they’d been expecting, and from then onwards, it was no secret anymore.

My Diary, when I remember that three-day adventure, memories keep on seducing my mind for that was one of the most memorable entries I’ve ever scribbled unto you, my Diary. The blissful nights I spent with my Rasta. You talk of the beers, the crazy stuff, you name it! For once, I’d lost myself into his charms!

Ever had a public lip service in front of your Doubters, friends and foes alike? Well, that’s how we officially stamped our affair during that wonderful trip. Yes, in front of all and sundry. Can you imagine??  Though unplanned, but it’s worth it for since then, nobody has ever talked trash again. We stamped ourselves into their books that I was officially the Rastaman’s wife, hahah!

As I am signing off, my Dear diary, I wanna remind you that you borrow a leaf from me. Love, real love, is never planned. It’s a chemical bond that reacts automatically. I never chased him up; neither did he. It just happened automatically. Fate, my Dear, works in mysterious ways, and it did to me. I’m the living testimony.  

Every time I talk to him, I always note how his lips curve into smiles; his glares make me realize I’m more that his tutee. All those moments, mean the universe into my world.

I have spilt a lot already, I guess for now I’ve cleared the cloud that roamed around your thoughts. That’s how I found my better half, the Rastaman. My Rasta

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