A Song For Tasha

I was dreaming. I was back in campus, some years ago, at a park we used to call ‘Sajori Park’. This was not the official name given to this garden which overlooks Iganga Railway station, and you’ll never find such a name in the records anywhere, but we all called it that, having coined the name from one Sam, Joan and Erico, my classmates in campus who had ‘first’ discovered the serenity of this garden during our foundation days at the university. It had a small stream flowing at the edge of it, and the sounds of it added to the occasional chirping of birds from the shady mango trees and gave it an ‘Eden-like’ atmosphere. This was where we used to take girls for secret picnics, at ‘Sajori Park’.

I was lying on my back at Sajori Park, and the bell in a nearby school was ringing persistently. I cursed! Why the hell disturb my peace? For how long was it to keep on ringing? It was the sound of my phone ringing that woke me. It had been a dream. I grabbed the phone and shouted to whoever was calling. “Do you know what time is it?” 

“Greg, sorry to wake you up, but I have some terrible news, your friend Tasha is dead”

“What? Tasha? No. Tasha can’t die!” I blurted out.

“She did, just about half an hour ago”, the caller said. At this particular moment my mind went berserk, and I didn’t even think of asking who the caller was. How could Tasha have died? I woke up, pulled on some pair of jeans and a T-shirt and bolted out of the door. When I got to the car I realized I hadn’t asked what had happened to Tasha and where they had taken her. I gathered some sanity and called back. That’s when I realized it was Tasha’s husband who had called me, and that Tasha had been involved in a fatal crash as she drove from work that evening. I sank to the ground and cried. 

I had met Tasha way back as a 20-year old. I was on my second year in law school and Tasha had just enrolled, fresh from high school, her face blended with innocence had been the centre of attraction during the usual campus “Gold Rush”. Tasha was a sight to reckon, and just as they would say, you must have had a stiff neck if you didn’t turn to stare at her as she walked. I can’t exactly recall how we met or who uttered the first word, but Tasha was there, as if she had been in my life always, since time immemorial.

Her naivety as a first year was apparent, no doubt about that, but I took it as a gentleman who never pounced on naivety to inflict an injury to a soul. Tasha needed a friend to shield her beauty away from the ravenous campus men and I took it upon myself to play this role. I am no saint and I may never make one, but the connection between us was great and didn’t want to imagine a heart-broken Tasha. I just couldn’t stand her tears. Never. And so we ended up as being best friends, what one would call friends forever.  

We weren’t in the same year, but we would always find ourselves seated next to each other, in the library or even in the cafeteria and I would stare at her, my so called 'best friend'. I’d stare at her long, dark hair, and wish she was mine. We explored the world together, having fun and celebrating being young. Tasha loved nature, and romance, something we had in common. She was so easy to love. Little things made her smile, and brighten up her eyes like the moon. Her angelic eyes always light the paths we walked on, and made loving feel so easy. Tasha, a perfect soul to match. And at Sajori Park, we munched crisps, and smeared each other with chocolate cream, and stoping to once, every now and then, to lick away the smears from each other’s face. Such was it, Tasha and I.

But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. One day, she walked to my room and asked me for the notes I had used in my firs year. I handed them to her. She said 'thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I didn’t want to be just friends, I loved her but I was just too shy, and I don't know why. That was Tasha, in first year.

Tasha would consult me in almost every decision she took, even when she got to her first relationship. She came to me and asked me what I thought about it, and I told her it was fine, if that’s what she really wanted. I wanted her to be happy, and I told her that. One day, my phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart. She asked if she could come over because she didn't want to be alone. I said yes. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Bradley Cooper movie, and three bars of chocolate, she decided to go home. She looked at me, said 'thanks’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek. The connection was there, and it almost burst my heart. I held her in my arms, and felt her melt on my side. I wanted to tell her, to let her know that I didn’t want to be just friends, I loved her but again, I was just too shy. And so I let it pass, again.

One fine day she walked to my room. “There is Fun Rugby today at Jinja, and my date is sick" she said, "he’s not gonna go". Well, I didn't have a date, and way back, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as 'best friends'. So we did. That night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. Then she said- "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, just to let her how her kisses made my head spin, and make forget how to breathe. To know that I didn't want to be just friends, I loved her but I was afraid of complicating her life. I loved her too much to ever think of hurting her soul.

Days passed, then weeks, then months. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her degree. I wanted her to be mine-but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said-'you're my best friend, thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt world reel on my feet. I wanted to tell her, of how much I loved her, of how much I adored her. I wanted her to know that I didn't want to be just friends, I loved her but I was too shy to say it.

After campus we kept in touch and met occasionally for coffee until I left the country for further studies. When I came back three years later, Tasha was getting married. I chose to attend her wedding. Now I sat on the pews of the church. Tasha was getting married, and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said 'you came!’ She said 'thanks' and kissed me on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I didn't want to be just friends, I loved her and that I’ll love her until the day of my death. But, again, I was too shy to say it.

Years passed, and now she was dead, her life snuffed away by a road accident. I didn’t want to imagine it. 

I attended her burial and I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my 'best friend'. At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her campus years. This is what it read:

'I stare at him wishing he was mine, 

But he doesn't notice me like that, and

I know it. I want to tell him, 

I want him to know that I don't want to be just

friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, 

And I don't know why. 

I wish he would tell me he loved me! 

I wish I did too, I thought to myself, and I cried..

‘I woke up, perspiration pouring all over! It had been a dream, a bad dream. I picked up my phone and dialled Tasha’s number. The phone was picked at first instance, it was Tasha. 


“Greg, I’d hoped you would call, and you did” she said in her ever charming voice, “I was thinking about you and whether you are okay” she added. My heart melted, and all sense of my manhood left me. Tasha had been thinking about me, at 3 am?


 I loved Tasha, I realized, and I had loved her ever since the day of our first meeting and keeping it to myself was injurious to me, and maybe to her, going by my dream. I threw caution to the wind and decided to break the silence, the silence that had ruled my heart ever since I realized I was madly in love with her. How many hearts had I broken in the name of loving? Just because I thought the bearers of those hearts could be Tasha? I had all along fallen in love with her illusions. Any girl I asked out had to be Tasha, and that’s where I went wrong, there could be only one Tasha, my best friend from Campus who was now engaged to Tony. It was time to fight for my love.


“I need to talk to you Tash,” I blurted out, “When do you think you can be available?” 
“Any time Greg, any time” she replied.

That was all I needed….

I grabbed my shower gown and rushed to the bathroom, kicking every fear of the unknown out of my way, and with every kick bringing a desire to have my love back. As the shower splashed cool waters on me I couldn’t help but imagine how sweet life sometimes was, and how love and life were simply inseparable. I found myself humming a non-existent tune, as the water splashed on me. It was a long shower.

When I stepped out of the shower fifteen minutes later and stared at the mirror, the reflection I saw there was that of a man with a new confidence, confidence reborn. I didn’t need to be told that this was the time to make right my mistakes, time to say all what I had needed to say all that long. I didn’t know where to begin once I meet Tasha, but I knew nature would come to my rescue.

I dressed hurriedly and left the apartment quietly not to disturb my neighbours who were still sound asleep unaware of my emotional liberation. Outside, a cool breeze blew from the Indian Ocean and the stars lit the sky, and you could see their illumination on the ocean. It was a magnificent early morning. I took to the stairs, two at a time, with my travelling bag clanging behind me. When I got to the parking lot, I looked up at the stars, as if to ask them for luck and said a silent prayer.

I got in the car and started the engine. The long journey to Nairobi where I had a date with destiny had just begun.

Dawn was breaking and I could see the rays from the rising sun behind me, and blinding my eyes from the side mirror. I loved the sight of sunrise for it brought me the joys of my teenage years, those years everyone wanted to relieve, the years of innocence, when we lived a life full of fun, laughing and loving. Memories came flooding in one full swing, as I recalled those early days with Tasha.

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Waking up as a teenager to find yourself in a university is one dream every one harbours. It is a dream we all nurture as we grow up in high school competing with all overriding interests to secure that slot in an institution of higher learning. Thus when at nineteen I found myself in law school I felt I was in the path of realizing a childhood ambition and this came with a sense of feeling that I was on top. I had heard stories from my peers who had gone to campus before me, those stories about love and fun, and all the excitement that came with being in campus. I had even gone out of my way and started dating a campus girl a few months before I enrolled for my degree, if only to have a feel of it.

As the first year wore on, I was grappling with a discovery that love extended beyond those platonic kisses and hugs behind the church during ‘keshas’. I discovered that to win a woman who was considerably mature and at her natural threshold of losing her virginity was quite a tall order.  However I came to realize that I was gifted with a natural charm, a gift that coupled with my theories about relationships came in handy. This is what led me to this one lady I would live to remember. She is the lady who taught me that the best one can get out of love is a broken heart.

I can’t quite well remember how we met but I can vividly recall the place of our meeting. It was at the registration arena at the university where we had gathered as new students for some sort of orientation. Afterwards I began to pursue her, in my imaginations and dreams.  It was about two months later that I picked enough courage to approach her about my feelings. I didn’t get the shock of being rejected but still I didn’t get the relief that comes with being accepted.

When I sit back and recall that period in my love life, I am left wondering what I could have done to fully and correctly understand womenfolk. What followed was a string of false hope, and love. It was a period when I felt loved but still unwanted. There existed a large vacuum in my heart and could feel the emptiness it brought. I never understood any bit of it until that night I got myself drunk enough at Columbano Bar and confronted myself in front of a large mirror at the washrooms. I stood before the large mirrors and spoke to myself…”you still don’t understand it boy, do you? Throw the emptiness in your arms out into that space we breath; maybe birds will feel the air thinning as they fly deeper into themselves…” I sobered up and went home that night and wrote, ‘Parting is just but, nothing’ in my diary.

I could not, at that time, comprehend what really came over me at the washrooms. Perhaps it was the effect of the beer, but, looking at it much later, I came to realize that something was working me up in my sub-consciousness, something that enabled me to gather the remaining bits of my love and move on without necessarily having to wait for my walking papers to be signed. For once I was gone, but not forgotten. That experience had laid a foundation block for something else, some strong bond of love that I could only compare with the way I felt toward my siblings.