Here’s a confession: I have a crush. On this guy. His name, I can’t tell you because that would be cheating. But I will let you know that he’s a poet. (They’re over a thousand poets in Kenya, so good luck guessing).
For the sake of this piece let’s call him P. And it’s P for Poet, not Peter or Paul just in case you had started guessing. So P is your typical guy with a common face, one you’ve probably seen on many people.
But I have met no one like him (see what I did there… uh never mind). That is because P is exquisite through his art. When he goes on stage, he suddenly comes alive. And becomes so damn attractive.
I clearly remember the first time I watched him performing live. He looked simple, with loose clothes hanging over his lean body. But when he opened his mouth, he was transformed. When he moved his body, he became a god. And I watched in awe as emotions poured out of him like water from a fountain.
I kept gasping at the beauty that lie in front of me, the beauty of his words. And as I drowned in his flowing pain, all I could think about is going up there to hug him. To comfort him. Tell him that it’s all going to be alright. And maybe do other things with him, hehe.
When he spoke, I felt like he was talking directly to me. Like he was telling me his life story. And the story of others, only to me. At one point it felt like it was just the two of us at the scene. Him, the narrator – I, the listener. And so I listened with keen, as the rest of the world slowly faded away from me. Was he talking just to me? I wondered. Could he see this black hole I was sinking into? The deep bliss I was feeling, just by being there with him?
Okay, maybe I overstate. But the bliss part was real guys.
I never told him any of this though. When we finally met. That’s because I was too busy grinning like a kid. And marveling at was really happening. For he was the one hugging me. And thanking me for coming to see the show. What do you mean, thank you for putting on this show. You were incredible, I wanted to say repeatedly. But I couldn’t, I was just too overwhelmed by everything.
You see I’m used to being the fangirl who cheers creatives whose work I enjoy. But for the first time, I was the one being appreciated for being supportive me. The artiste was showing love to the fan. But wasn’t it supposed to happen the other way around?
I can guess what you must be thinking by now. I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over again. Is it him that I have a crush on? Or is it his talent? Maybe it’s both, I don’t know. But whichever it is, it’s still a crush no? A celebrity crush you can call it.
And am I not given the liberty to at least have that? I think the local Constitution covers it.
I wish I could say I met P again. That is one of the few items on my bucket list. Yes, my list is that simple. It doesn’t include going to Barbados, or visiting the Big Apple – because I know all those things will happen one day.
What my list actually contains is things I really want. Presently. And when they are fulfilled, they shall make space for more wishes to join the list.
So for now, let me dream that the dear Universe can hear me.
Keyword is little.