March 12 201515h07
There are small moments in our lives that don't seem so huge until you staring death in the face and you add them up. I wonder if my life would have turned out differently if I had married Karen, the sweet catholic girl who begged me to seek a quieter less complicated life of raising a family. But I was too ambitious to listen to her and when Anne/Samiya entered the picture, my head was turned and Karen's plea was drowned out.
Looking back now, I should have picked the simple life. But that moment is gone and the only story of love I have is a bitter one. Samiya is dead and I have relapsed into my drug habit. Every night I have had the same dream where I am the one who is kills Samiya. I can feel her collar bone crumble as I choke the life out of her. It feels so real.
I remember the day I met Samiya. The reason I am talking about Samiya at the moment is because my relationship with her will help you understand the diabolical nature of the conspiracy that a group of African politicians are engaged in. So please be patient, I will release all the information before I am snuffed out of my hole like a dishevelled Saddam Hussein. Then maybe you will understand that African politicians do not care about African people.
Samiya was overwhelming. She was working as a project manager for a Relief Agency that is based in Juba and was mostly concerned with building schools. When I came across her broken down SUV it seemed like a coincidence but looking back I now know that it was a well-orchestrated move on her part to meet with me. I managed to figure out her problem and it seemed strange to me that her car would run out of fuel. It was not something you see every day and why was she travelling alone in an area that suffered frequent raids from terror groups both Christian and Islamic.
None of those questions mattered when I looked into her eyes. I took her out for dinner and as they say the rest was history. At spy school we were taught that nothing is a coincidence but as far as I was concerned all the spying nonsense could take a back seat. For the first time I knew what it meant to love someone so completely that you are borderline insane.
Those little signs were always there, there are times when you have to convince yourself that the lie you are living is truth, when the person you love says or does something that should raise alarm bells but you choose to not see it because that will destroy the picture of bliss that you have. That was me, I let emotions guide me and now I am so far gone and I hate this thing called love.
I opened the door to my life and I let her in. I told her who I was and what I did. That is when our life began unravelling. She seemed genuinely intrigued and she asked me about the missions I did. I told her my favourite story about setting up a General Badawi. Her graceful smile evaporated from her face when I told her that I had pulled the trigger and had shot the man in the head even as he pleaded for his life.
She recoiled from my touch. She asked me to live her apartment. It would take me three months to understand her reaction. It seems that I planned the mission that led to the execution of her father. I did not know General Badawi was her father. I guess the question you asking is why she never killed me, she had many opportunities. Could she have fallen in love? The answer is more complex than that. Samiya was pregnant.
From a secluded I watched her coffin was lowered into the ground. That was not how our story was supposed to play out. It was never meant to be like this. When the grounds men began to fill the grave with earth I turned and walked away. Samiya is dead and large chunks of my life have been stolen from me. I feel imprisoned. All because of a carbon trading deal that has exacerbated the climate change challenge facing Africa.
At that very moment I was not aware that there was someone else lurking in the shadows watching me. It was Karen. She would later tell me that she had watched nervously as I slinked away, she had been afraid he would not believe the charade that had been put on for his benefit.
The rich have gamed the system against the poor it doesn't matter what you do the vast majority of you are going to die poor and those who manage to make their way out of the squalor will get themselves entangled in a dangerous rat race. People like you, me and Samiya are just pawns they can use at their pleasure.
I was too busy looking at playbook they gave me to even notice that they were playing using a different set of rules. I was brought up never to question my elders but to fulfil an obligation to the nation because I should be grateful that she gave birth to me. I should be grateful for the freedom that was afforded me. When I was privileged I chose not see anything wrong but when it all came tumbling down, I realised that I was living a lie. I was a lie.
There are small moments in our lives that don't seem so huge until you staring death in the face and you add them up. I wonder if my life would have turned out differently if I had married Karen, the sweet catholic girl who begged me to seek a quieter less complicated life of raising a family. But I was too ambitious to listen to her and when Anne/Samiya entered the picture, my head was turned and Karen's plea was drowned out.
Looking back now, I should have picked the simple life. But that moment is gone and the only story of love I have is a bitter one. Samiya is dead and I have relapsed into my drug habit. Every night I have had the same dream where I am the one who is kills Samiya. I can feel her collar bone crumble as I choke the life out of her. It feels so real.
I remember the day I met Samiya. The reason I am talking about Samiya at the moment is because my relationship with her will help you understand the diabolical nature of the conspiracy that a group of African politicians are engaged in. So please be patient, I will release all the information before I am snuffed out of my hole like a dishevelled Saddam Hussein. Then maybe you will understand that African politicians do not care about African people.
Samiya was overwhelming. She was working as a project manager for a Relief Agency that is based in Juba and was mostly concerned with building schools. When I came across her broken down SUV it seemed like a coincidence but looking back I now know that it was a well-orchestrated move on her part to meet with me. I managed to figure out her problem and it seemed strange to me that her car would run out of fuel. It was not something you see every day and why was she travelling alone in an area that suffered frequent raids from terror groups both Christian and Islamic.
None of those questions mattered when I looked into her eyes. I took her out for dinner and as they say the rest was history. At spy school we were taught that nothing is a coincidence but as far as I was concerned all the spying nonsense could take a back seat. For the first time I knew what it meant to love someone so completely that you are borderline insane.
Those little signs were always there, there are times when you have to convince yourself that the lie you are living is truth, when the person you love says or does something that should raise alarm bells but you choose to not see it because that will destroy the picture of bliss that you have. That was me, I let emotions guide me and now I am so far gone and I hate this thing called love.
I opened the door to my life and I let her in. I told her who I was and what I did. That is when our life began unravelling. She seemed genuinely intrigued and she asked me about the missions I did. I told her my favourite story about setting up a General Badawi. Her graceful smile evaporated from her face when I told her that I had pulled the trigger and had shot the man in the head even as he pleaded for his life.
She recoiled from my touch. She asked me to live her apartment. It would take me three months to understand her reaction. It seems that I planned the mission that led to the execution of her father. I did not know General Badawi was her father. I guess the question you asking is why she never killed me, she had many opportunities. Could she have fallen in love? The answer is more complex than that. Samiya was pregnant.
From a secluded I watched her coffin was lowered into the ground. That was not how our story was supposed to play out. It was never meant to be like this. When the grounds men began to fill the grave with earth I turned and walked away. Samiya is dead and large chunks of my life have been stolen from me. I feel imprisoned. All because of a carbon trading deal that has exacerbated the climate change challenge facing Africa.
At that very moment I was not aware that there was someone else lurking in the shadows watching me. It was Karen. She would later tell me that she had watched nervously as I slinked away, she had been afraid he would not believe the charade that had been put on for his benefit.
The rich have gamed the system against the poor it doesn't matter what you do the vast majority of you are going to die poor and those who manage to make their way out of the squalor will get themselves entangled in a dangerous rat race. People like you, me and Samiya are just pawns they can use at their pleasure.
I was too busy looking at playbook they gave me to even notice that they were playing using a different set of rules. I was brought up never to question my elders but to fulfil an obligation to the nation because I should be grateful that she gave birth to me. I should be grateful for the freedom that was afforded me. When I was privileged I chose not see anything wrong but when it all came tumbling down, I realised that I was living a lie. I was a lie.