1. Prayer Warriors

Hi Ex,

I don’t believe bad things happen to bad people.

I don’t believe bad things happen to good people.

Me, Anastasia Airene Mbula, I believe everyone is taught how to pray fair and square. The good people and the bad people who master the prayer craft become prayer warriors who get their prayers answered.

Those are the facts. So I don’t let anyone deceive me into holding my karmic breath. What goes around does not come around. It dissipates.

That is why I started seeing a therapist 10 years after you dumped me. Yes, I am still single. Thank you. It’s your fault. It’s your fault I can’t talk about it. With anyone. Including this therapist that costs 9K per session. 9 fracking thousand shillings.


I don’t cuss anymore.

The therapist told me to write about the thing stuck in my neck. You.

This is the first entry of my recollection of you and your relationship with me. I cannot remember anything good. There was a really good time but my head is really squared on the assholery.

Particularly the last shitty thing you did. You are not allowed to read this journal. But I want you to feel it.

So…when your subconscious-telepathic-parallel-universe-whichever-self feels this entry you should reprogram for wounding.

We start from the end. The time you robbed my house and left the keys on the window sill. For the next thief.

Bye for today.

2. Wanton Abandon

Hi Ex

They say don’t put some things online. Fundi wa Macareer a.k.a John Cena na Madredi a.k.a the G.O.A.T hapendi. Kama unamtambua unatambua kelele za internet na wozzap hatakagi.

But haidhuru. Hatujuani.

I am Anastasia Airene Mbula and this is sex education thanks to your hatred.

I am the person you gave an STI and acted like it was a small flu. That is pure hatred.

And, yes, I found your dose of meds under the mattress. Yaani mtu uko na kisonono ha hukutaka kuitibu?

Remember I had told you I was feeling a type of way and I went to the doctor. So naively not expecting all the judgment I got from the doctor, the lab, and the pharmacy. I remember them making a copy of the prescription and telling me to share it will all my sexual partners.

Because I knew it was just you I bought you the antibiotics with my own money. The side effects were shitty and as I was talking to you about them I felt you could understand because…obviously…we were taking them simultaneously. You acted like the metallic saltiness in my mouth was exactly like yours. And when “we” finished we went back into the sheets with what wypipo used to call “wanton abandon”.

Until that day I found the tablets under your mattress. Fully untouched does. It was so fracking difficult to know that I had walked out of an STI into the same STI and this time round, as I found out later, with more consequences for my reproductive health.


When women say men don’t give a frack about our health sampuli mwafaka ndio wewe hapa.

I went back to the doctor and he told me if I keep messing with you I may never have kids. I mean. What?

I told you. I was angry. And in that moment, you told me, “It’s a pity because I was planning on getting you pregnant.”

Me, Anastasia Airene Mbula, that you wanted to pregnant at 22?

Mtoto tungemuita Gonorrhea YourLastName?

3. Character Development

Hi Ex

Remember I told you I was packing off after that venereal disease incident?

That night you ignored it and became evasive as if I was not serious. You started asking some dumb questions about the time difference in the world and it doesn’t make sense that part of earth is dark and the other is light yet we are all breathing the same air. The time difference between Kenya and Nigeria doesn’t make sense because aren’t we all in Africa?

East and West. The earth is not fracking flat. Why were you so stupid, man?

I woke up next morning and left with my walk-of-shame-bag.

I didn’t even reach the gate before you started texting.

I should never have left Chanice for you, even though she slept with uncovered feet and had big hands, she was prettier.

I ignored it. But then you sent another one

 She used to give me fruits after intercourse. You were selfish.

 Fruits? From where. Was there a secret orchard in your bedsitter somewhere? I flagged down a matatu.

I had a threesome with her and two other chicks and it was fire. Plus she knew how to bend over and collect simisim while I stirred her pot. You are always uncomfortable, kifo cha mende kila saa.

I had to correct your math dammit: “Threesome is three people. Can’t count or are you packing lies in the wrong lunchbox?”

Three is crowd anyways. And it doesn’t matter we were more than one and this still happens so you are not so special as you think. Oh and I have done it with the lady we buy fries and samosas  from when you come over. The yellow one with big boobs, always sucking yogurt with a fat black straw. Her, me, Chanice, here.

 It now hurts that the immediate truth was that, me Anastacia Airene Mbula, I had a very stupid boyfriend but I was butt hurt by your determination to develop my insecurities.

Do you know why I have never kissed you? Because of that ugly gap between your upper front teeth. Looking like a rabbit, no one wants to get into that mouth.

I started sobbing in a public service vehicle because aren’t you the same one who told me you don’t kiss because it is super intimate and you are waiting till marriage to swap saliva exclusively. Kumbe it was the gap in my teeth that sucked the skill out of you?

4. I hated your cat

Oh my god you and your cat must have taken me for a rat.

I hate you both more right now that I remember the cheese and the scratches.

You because, me Anastacia Airene Mbula, when we were still in the talking stages I told you that I do not eat cheese. At all.

But the first time I came to your place you had prepared a big enamel plate of ham and CHEESE sandwiches. I said I can’t eat that and you said the only other option is hunger. So I fracking ate and my stomach hurt like hell.

Then your cat sprang on me with its claws. Jealous demon. You laughed so much you had to pee. You went outside to the ka-plot 10 toilet.

I put her in my bag when I left your house as you peed. Left the door open to answer any ideas you may have had about her “disappearance”.

I hope you are in the pits now that you will never really know what I did to her.

Eat that!

5. How High?

I mean. You lived in a bedsitter but you were so posh about yourself it is funny now.

I was listening to a Nyashinki playlist and in one rap he says sometimes jipe ruhusa tu kua ratchet. I have typed and retyped that so many times because autocorrect wanted to say other things I didn’t mean or understand. I hate fighting with autocorrect over my messages.

Anyway I wish this song came out when we were still dating. You were so ratchet in how you treated me but where it mattered you never wanted anyone to know how base you are.

Sijui going to clubs we had to suffer in places where matatus don’t have a route. Then we had to stay at the rave till morning ndio we walk to a highway to get transport.

Kununua label mtumba kwa deni ndio ukienda kuzurura Sarit you look like one of them. Entering label shops saying, “The ones I am wearing are getting old and I am looking for similar ones. Are they in stock? What size? What colours? Do you have that size in this other colour? No? Oh that’s so unfortunate. Can I leave you my number?

 Inflating your ego with Air.

I knew why the damn shoes looked old. I’m finna tell them because petty malice is my portion.

Kidogo kidogo you are sent money from Dubai by your mother for your masters degree and you drag me to some exclusive club in Runda to buy full bottles of Moet for strangers.

And then?

What was all that shit about?

Why did you have to involve me?

I think of it now and every single one of those people must have seen right through your bootleg high classness and I must have been perceived as stupid, brainless, uneducated, RATCHET woman.

Me, Anastacia Airene Mbula, as whole actuarial scientist. Fronting with some ghetto fabulous wannabe.

Shame on me back then and shame on me now for even remembering.

© Linda Musita 2021