THE BUMP

The Bump. My belly is slowly gaining weight. At about three to six months, it isn’t easily noticeable unless you give it a second look. I am so ready for it. I have close to five trench coats. Dress tops come in handy and tights too. I am very much afraid of questions from random people. How do you feel in there? Did you plan for it? Are you married? Where is your boyfriend? Were you raped?(A classmate, asked me so, I must say that I felt so disgusted) Why didn't you use protection?

Sometimes, some people go an extra mile to touch your belly. They even joke that the baby you are carrying will look like them. As if they look any good. So by now I no longer wear heels. I have stuck to my old school rubbers and maasai sandals, sometimes flat shoes but they irritate me a lot and makes my feet sweaty and swollen at times.

Long queues at the bus station are a story of the past. Nowadays, conductors are so much friendly with me. They joke that I am carrying one vote for Raila Odinga, which I bet would become a fulfilment at 2033 when Shun will be 18. Impossible... Raila will be 88. This might be possible, Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe is a sitting President and is 91 years. I don’t even know why am getting political.

 At the swimming pool, roughly 25 weeks pregnant

I must admit that Shun gave me the best time as a young mum. Every moment that she rested calm in my womb, kicked me out of anger or joy, I treasured them.