No matter how deep, wide, high or low I go, I arrive at the same place, NOTHING.
I am simply a stack of memories, piled up over time.
Memory stick of blood and bones not wires and chips.
I am a Frankenstein; stories, accents, locations, ideologies, lies woven together.
No I am not Juliani, a made up character to survive and find a place in my community.
No I am not Julius Owino, a name I was given to identify me from the crowd.
No I am not the best that ever did (okay! Tulia G, hapo umeenda sana!!, you have to stop!!, unachizi!! yes you are, wewe ni ule mse!!)
No I am not a Christian, a badge to announce my questionable moral incline.
I am not who you think i am, your projection of me, simply a typical identification mechanism,
You are a chair so I must be a table.
I AM NOTHING!
Which give me so much freedom.
I blank canvas to draw the best piece of art i allow myself to imagine and believe as true.
Even though the instrument for my becoming are still remnants of other lives, others time, others imagination, other strides, others shortcomings.
I am happy to be nothing.
A milk from an udder.
A milk in branded package.
A milk mixed with water and majani, now I am chai.
A piss in the drainage.
A water that’ll follow the stream.
A body of water that’ll overporate to come back as rain.
I AM.