Just the other day I attended a wedding.

Ten years ago, I met a girl on a Unique Shuttle from Meru to Nairobi. After 3 hours of deliberation, I gathered courage & introduced myself. I said "Hi, my name is Knight, on a bus". She said "Hi Knight, I am Nkirote, Chritine Nkirote to be precise, & you're late": I couldn't help but laugh, I'd met my soul mate.

And for the next 7 years, Nkirote gave me life. She gave me love, she gave me devotion: she gave me belief. Nkirote got married today, and the groom by her side wasn't me. I played myself gents! I played myself.

We spoke about a month ago: 1 year and 3 months after she'd left & I only learned of the depth of pain I'd caused this woman when she asked,

"Did you ever love me?"

I shared 7 years of my life with her, yet somehow, through my actions, I'd made her doubt everything in the 7 years.

Last week mom asked about her. She lamented that Nkirote hadn't spoken to her in a month, "is everything ok?" Long after she'd broken up with me, this woman was still checking up on my mama. I almost broke down when Mama said, it's time I married her, "what are you waiting for"?

How do you tell your mother that you lost the girl that helped her sweep her Verandah? The girl that loved you enough to love your mother.
The girl that brought her lipstick and "sampoo" from Nairobi. How?

And boy have I suffered for it! I called her, a week before her wedding. I said, "Please Nkirote, please. Just one more chance, please" And this time I meant it. Must have been too late. Coz she said, "I gave you 7 years, and you wouldn’t change. It's done" So soul mates get over you afterall?

I think the hardest part about it is knowing that people will love you, but not with her intensity and honesty: not with the fear she had - the fear of losing you. That the safety you felt will never be there. That you'll matter to some woman, but not with a similar passion.