I wasn’t sure of myself. Heck, I wasn’t sure of anything. I was 24. I was young. I was clueless. The most I had experienced love-wise was Zipporah, my first love. My high school sweetheart. My walks-in-the-field-at-sports-time, weekly-love-letters-though-we-were-in-the-same-school, meet-in-dark-corridors-and-just-talk-coz-we-didnt-know-what-to-do-with-our-hands girlfriend. Oh, I loved Zipporah. For all of a year before I left high school and realised there was more than only 400 girls in the world. But boy did we have some good times. A kiss here and there. On the school bus during music festivals. Behind the stage at the auditorium during drama rehearsals. Under our secret tree in the school forest during sports days. Aah, innocent love.

Anyways, I’m about to tell you the real love story of my young life. A story that makes Romeo and Juliet sound like a badly done comedy. A story that Bonnie and Clyde wish they had had. A modern love story of pure, unadulterated emotion so visceral it will leave you in tears. Oh yeah, grab the tissues please. I’m serious. Consider this the author’s disclaimer, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I could feel my heart racing as I walked towards the location I had directed her handler to bring her to. I didn’t understand why. I mean, she was just another entity I had introduced into my life to take care of my needs, emotional and otherwise. Why would I be nervous? But here I was, each step feeling heavier, and a growing trepidation that this was a day that would remain momentous for the rest of my life.

It all started with a rueful conversation. I was ready. I was 24. I had played the field. I felt I could handle a commitment. I felt adulthood required that I enjoy the company of the same beauty on at least 3 consecutive weekends. I wanted the same soft silky smooth feel against my skin over and over. I wanted to make memories that lasted more than a few hours. I wanted heartbreaks and tears and regrets. Yes. It was time to get that forever love, one that could last at least a year you know? So I had sought the wisdom of David, or King David as we fondly refer to him. He is 8 years older than me, he was on his 3rd romantic encounter that I knew of, and he had tried them all. The ferocious, adventurous Diana with whom he caused trouble in at least 3 countries. The dark, introspective and somewhat scary Fiona who I got to know quite well but still couldn’t figure out what her deal was. Thankfully he got rid of her after barely a year, which was a relief. To be honest I kinda had a crush on her. So yes, David had seen it all, and he was going to help me find my Sinorita.

“So tell me Alex, what attributes are you looking for?” asked David as we kicked back in my sparsely furnished bachelor pad.

“Attributes? Dude, this is not some chair i’m buying.” I retorted.

“Ok, ok, what do you want in this babe? Is that better?”

“Argh, forget about it. I want grace.”

“Who’s Grace?”

“No, no, I want her to have grace, you know? I want her to be sophisticated but in a simple down to earth way, not the showy kind. I want her to be curvaceous, with everything exactly where it should be. I don’t want super model beauty no, just girl-next-door-but-will-still-turn-a-few-heads kind of beauty. Makes sense?”

“So you want a 7”

“Sorry?”

“A 7 out of 10. She shouldn’t look like a shoe but also shouldn’t be too hot she makes you insecure”

“Ok, that’s oversimplifying it, but yeah, I guess you are right”

It took three months of searching. Kind David, the always illustriously industrious partner in crime showed them all to me. None worked. He nearly gave up, and I nearly started doubting his wisdom in this realm.

Then one day, about seven days from the last failed encounter, he called me, more ecstatic than I had ever heard him sound, and something inside me clicked. I knew in my gut that I was about to hear the first few words that would describe my first, true love.

“Bruh, everything you asked for, she has. But that’s not just it bro. I swear you two were created exactly for each other. Where are you? We have to meet”

She wasn’t a city girl. She’d been around the world, but had settled down at the coast for a few months. She was ready to leave though as the coast didn’t have the energy and magic she so craved for. She just hadn’t found a reason to move yet.

Our correspondence lasted about a month. She wasn’t young. She’d been around, but hadn’t lost her romantic bone. She sent me photos. I stared at them repeatedly for a week. King David was right. I fell in love long before I had laid my eyes on her in real life. But hey, all of us only show our best side in photos. I mean, there’s a whole business called Instagram built around the concept of our best side. So I tried to hold my horses.

“Bro, if I didn’t already have Fiona, i’d be all over her. You lucky dog!”

She’d never been to the city. This whole thing felt so surreal, and she was scared of moving Cities for someone she had never met. She never said it but I could feel it in her emails. She wanted to be with me. She felt that tinge of forever-love excitement that I had boiling up inside of me. She had a friend who would bring her to the City. No, she wouldn’t have to find herself a place to stay. She would stay with me. No question about it. Was I sure? I mean, this could all blow apart the moment we laid eyes on each other. No, I insisted, i’d never been so sure of anything in my life. She would stay with me. We would work through the process of getting to know each other better. We would weather the inevitable storms of new love. We would grow old together. We would take over the City, and everyone would know our names. I didn’t need a trial. I was going all in.

Her name was Leila. Leila Mayonde. Her father had apparently dated a Pakistani girl when he studied abroad, and he decided to name her after that girl. Her mother had no idea this was the origin of the name. But Leila and her Dad were BFFs and he had given her this story on one of their many tete-a-tetes. She was a Daddy’s girl.

I arrive at the pre-arranged location and they are nowhere to be seen. I’m sweating. My stomach is in a gazillion knots. The deodorant I had emptied on my armpits that morning has become practically useless. I call the handler and his line doesn’t go through. My spirits start sinking. Maybe this was all a hopeless charade, maybe she chickened out at the last minute, maybe they got lost, which could be nature’s way of telling me this was all a bad idea. As I turned around to head back to my real life, I saw them.

She was everything. I could feel her smile from the distance. Her shy but determined gait, the sway of her hips, the way the Nairobi dust seemed to blow past her without spoiling her perfectly smooth skin. I had a whole speech prepared but the moment i laid eyes on her, words evaporated from my lips. I just stared, tempted to touch her but knowing how inappropriate that would be for a first meeting.

She didn’t talk much, still doesn’t. When she purred though? You couldn’t ignore her. My friends loved her, my neighbours couldn’t help but stare through the windows whenever we went in and out of the estate, my local shopkeeper increased my credit limit on account of her, bouncers just needed to see me with her and entry to the club was assured, VIP style. There was none like her, and we all knew it, except her. She was a simple girl, who just happy to be with me.

It’s been 8 years. Leila and I have been through it all. She was there when I lost my business and went bankrupt. She stuck around when I couldn’t afford a meal and creditors were on my neck. She was there when I had a baby by another girl, and one more after that. She was there when I was lying in hospital after multiple surgeries. She was there when I became  mean and treated her bad, thinking I could do better. There was a particularly dark two year period of our love affair when I was just waiting for her to give up on me. She didn’t. Leila taught me loyalty and unconditional Love long before I could understand what those words meant. Thank God for her patience. Today, I can tell you with no qualms, that our Love is stronger than ever. People don’t understand why I’m still with her when I have the choice of all kinds of beauties. They never will, and I don’t have to explain it to them.

Leila remains my forever Love, and everyday, I try to show her just how special she is to me. She gets the best shine. She gets the best mechanics. She gets the best parts. She gets to hear my poems written in her honor. She gets blog articles written about her. Leila is loved like few cars are.

**************************UPDATE*******************

In her final act of Love, Leila was with me when I was involved in a horrendous accident a few weeks back. Leila held me tight in her straps as we rolled not once, not twice, but thrice. Leila incurred irredeemable damage, while protecting me from scars and broken bones and probably, death. Thanks to her, I climbed out of the wreckage with nothing but bruises, and a broken heart. She now sits, crushed and written off at a yard somewhere in Utawala, but her grace remains indomitable. Rest in Peace my forever Love. Rest in Peace.