The Diary of an Oyibo by Tejiri Oru - HTML preview

THE WEST OF NOWHERE

I woke up with a sense of dread. It was a terrible feeling. I pulled myself out of bed. I stifled a yawn successfully and sleepily walked towards the bathroom. I flicked the light switch on. I looked into the mirror and could barely recognize the man that stood in front of me. My eyes had heavy circles under them. I looked jaded and hadn’t shaved in weeks. I had put on a lot of weight because I ate too much and barely exercised. I turned the sink clockwise; I cupped water onto both palms and splashed it onto my face.

I flicked the lights off and walked into the kitchen. I gently opened one of the cupboards in search of bottle of alcohol. I found half a bottle behind a cereal pack and poured myself a glass of scotch. I steadied the glass and took a few sips. A quick glance at my alarm clock notified me that it was almost noon.

I hopped into the shower and allowed the cold water wash away my pain and anger. I felt refreshed afterwards and got dressed into a simple blue shirt, gray shorts and a pair of slippers.

I need to escape, run, run away from everything, this is what I want and need to do, disappear without telling anyone where I am headed. It is not mandatory but necessary that I escape to somewhere new, neither necessarily far nor fancy, just somewhere where I can make new friends, get a proper job.

I need a fresh start with a clean slate where no one knows my past- my mistakes, the consequences I have had to face because of the mistakes I have made and my past and current situation.

I do not feel at home, not since my mother died even a bit farther than that, not since Dad left. I must leave, and I must do so as soon as possible. It may be a bus ride away or an ocean way, I have no idea yet but what I do know is that when I leave I’ll be home once more.

This is not a one day decision, it’s a plan, a plan I had all along but could not execute for certain reasons- my sister needed me, she always would maybe until she’s married, and even though she had grown up she was still that little baby I stole milk from when she was asleep in her cradle.

Nothing has ever gone right for me all my life, I take a look at the mirror and I am disgusted not at whom I see because I am sexy and handsome but what  my life has been and is.

I cannot believe who I am; it is quite difficult to do so especially at this point in time. I hate who I have become. I can’t remember when last I had a hair cut or shaved. My fridge which was once filled with soda and water has been replaced with beer, liquor and wine. My closet is filled with clothes I don’t wear anymore; surely there are kids or teenagers out there that have nothing to wear.

I don’t know if should toss my phone into the river or throw the sim card into the dust bin and sell the phone, it’s quick cash plus I have a feeling I’ll need money, not too much just enough to make my trip to the West of nowhere.

This would not be the first time that I would travel alone, I have done so many times in the past plus I enjoy meeting new people, learning new languages, experimenting new food and culture.

I have become disgusted with this environment. The place I once treasured began looking like a deserted building. I was sick of everything- the same thing on the news every day, unstable electricity supply, bike men whom scratched cars and were the major cause of car accidents, the corrupt police men, the traders at the market whom always sold items to me at an expensive price instead of decent one and the taxi drivers that often swindled me no matter the distance I travelled, to the people whom envied me just because I was white skinned and those who worshiped me just because I was an oyinbo....the list goes on.

I’ll leave very soon for a land unknown. I’ll depart with no rules and no regrets. I’ll live for the moment and start afresh. I’ll figure out where I am going really soon, I could figure it out as soon as next week or next month and even though I have had fun with you- shared my good, bad and ugly life. I remember the day I picked you up from the bookstore and hid you in my school bag and raced home. You’ve only been outside my room just a few times, yet you’ve had different stains on you from cooking oil, to blood to tear drops to soup. You made me happy, when I didn’t think I could be, people always wondered why Jack was the only friend I had, I guess it’s because you and he knew everything about me. No one keeps secrets like you do, and despite how awesome and rich you are (in paper and texture) you’ll leave me with things I don’t want to remember so you will not follow me, you’ll stay behind and I have not decided if I want to strike a match stick and set you ablaze or it if I want cobwebs to make you a home just yet but only you would know the decision I shall eventually make. I’ll call Jack when I get to my destination, the last time I saw him was after Christine’s funeral. He barely picks up his phone these days and for some reason he deactivated his social media accounts. I often worry about him and I really hope he is okay. Well, we had good times didn’t we, my dearest Diary. It was a privilege indeed.

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Tejiri Oru