Chirped out

Waking up in the morning is always a hustle. But there’s is always this early bird in the woods that seems to have no such problem. First of all lemmi state that like that song I’ll never swim Kern River again, my version be I’ll never live in Kanairo again. A great part of living mashinani is that you mostly take ten minutes to get to work. Now imagine taking me to Kanairo where I’ll waste two hours in the jam. No need to say more.
So back to the bird, I hope she’s a bluebird or else I’m making a catapult and bringing her down. Hahaha just kidding, I don’t kill for a living. So this bluebird carries the huge responsibility of waking up the entire forest all by herself. She’s like a bellringer in all the evil sense. Ever wondered why the bell ringer never arrives late or falls ill?
Now Mr bluebird will chirp in the wee hours of the morning, then listen and on hearing no response he’ll keep mum for a while, chirp again, listen again, keep mum, repeat and so on and so forth until finally the response comes. What he doesn’t know is that a daughter of Jezebel is stepping on the blanket and praying like Joshua that the sun stands still. Wait a minute, did I just put Jezebel and Joshua in the same sentence? Some Js there.
Now to the story of the day, mama calls me, uvivu ni adui mkubwa kwa ujenzi wa taifa is playing on the radio. Instead of rising up, I step on the blanket, sleep comes calling and ooh we sped off into Dreamland. I’m late to reach the gate and I wonder why the bell ringer couldn’t be late like me. The bell sounds and I realise not even running of stick will okoa my Jahazi. So now if running won’t save me, what will, akili mtu wangu; limping. I start limping towards the gate and when I reach the gate I find the teacher on duty standing, arms akimbo and she looks at me questioningly then asks, ‘why are you limping?’ I reply with a poker face that the donkey hit me. Wueeh even I get surprised because said teacher is my aunt and she knows that we neither have a donkey at home, nor the whole village.
What surprises me is when she looks agitatedly behind me and asks, ‘all of you were hit by donkeys?’ I look back to find everyone else limping. SMH Lord have mercy, lemmi turn into vapour like naphthalene. Na mbona by the way ulininyima properties za naphthalene ukapatia ghosts?
That’s how I found myself almost late for work. Bluebird ukiniamsha wewe nitakuwa naamka mara that that.
#StillTheChronicler.

Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

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