I have gone places, I have seen faces, yet somehow I always have to go home where I belong. Not all arrival is perfect, but there is one thing that has witnessed my stay: that’s my walls. Quite yet observing, jubilant yet silent, sympathetic yet unable to hug me in comfort. It had seen the first time I entered when the house was empty because I lacked the necessities. The day I wanted to cook ugali but had forgotten to buy a mwiko. Bachelors can relate. The moment I started adding things to the house, it seemed to smile and brighten. It has silently listened to my prayers.
Sometimes maybe it shook its head, wondering the things I am praying for. When things were tough, I changed the praying posture to get God to hear my prayers. Maybe it celebrates with me when my prayers were answered. Perhaps it becomes jealous in silence. The sleepless night, the early morning, and the late-night arrival. Does it care that sometimes I don’t spend enough time there? Does it value my company or enjoy moments in solitude. There are moments have disagreed with my significant other. It has listened to all the conversation. Sometimes I said over and over again things I should not have said. Yet it doesn’t correct me or advise the best way to approach it next time. When its face started fading, I painted it. Sometimes I changed its face color, yet it did not agree or complain if it was the best. I love music. Good music. Sometimes I dance alone in the house. I don’t care if it likes my dancing moves. After all, it never talks. As life goes on, it will observe much more. It will witness my skin age and my dreams coming true. My secrets will be revealed to it. But I will always trust it because it will never speak.
