Cars are okay, but I think I will buy a motorcycle first. Something about wearing black boots and riding a cool road hugging two wheeled machine as the wind follows me is enthralling. I am a black woman whose favourite colour is black. Just stating non-essential facts that have nothing to do with today’s piece. As I wrote this one, I actually took time to reflect upon each paragraph. I scavenged through the lines, like a hawk. A hawk hungry for grammatical errors and unnecessary full stops. Ally says I use too many full stops and that I write really short sentences whereas people want more words in their sentences. The sentence you just finished reading looks pretty long to me.

A story is told of a couple. A man and a woman; you have to be specific these days. The woman was staunch Christian who held one of the important roles in a small church she went to, about four hundred meters from where they lived. The man, on the other hand, thought Sundays were rest days that the Lord put aside for a man to have beer and escape the dull routine of work from Monday to Saturday. Kinya and Shebe. Shebe and Kinya, if you will.

Kinya worked his ass off, crunching the numbers. Making balance sheets balance because that is what balance sheets do. They balance. And if they don’t, they are just sheets. Shebe stayed back in their four bedroom mansion, making a home of it. Ensuring that her two son’s homework was done and that there was always food on the table. She scrubbed her sufurias as if the goal was to see her reflection on them. Spent a lot of her time baking scones and cake even when there were no birthdays to celebrate. She loved cooking and she expressed her love through the passion with which she did things. She was a lover, and he was a fighter.

Together, they owned a Mercedes Benz S320. Rather, he owned it and took all the responsibility for her (the car). He was a man who understood that cars are women and need to be treated so. Men know one needs to listen to their car, that every light that goes on or off on the dashboard is telling a story. A woman’s car on the other hand would be coughing and wheezing but she still wouldn’t tell that something is wrong with the car.

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