MY HOUSE WAS ABOUT TO BE LOCKED on the 4th of February, just because I was not able to raise rent. I posted it on Facebook seeking for help, but all I got was 2 likes & zero comments.
So I sent 100 messages to my contact list requesting for a loan of Ksh3, 000. Sadly only 10ppl replied. 6 out of the 10 claimed they can’t help. Only 1 out of the 4 who said they could help actually gave me some money but the rest only gave me excuses and never picked my calls. At the end, my door was locked.
I have no where to sleep. I walked in the dark seeking options and sadly a heavy storm carried me away. Fast forward, the next day news quickly spread around that I had died.
1500 ppl posted on my wall how they knew me. How great I was. A committee was formed by my “loyal” friends who contributed Ksh20,000 to feed guests at my funeral.
My colleagues at work teamed up and brought another Ksh10,000 for coffin, tents and chairs.
I am burried in a coffin worth Kshs 5000 but since they purchased it in haste there was a middle man who sold it to them for Ksh8,000.
Relatives meet again, it’s a rare occasion for them to meet, so they met. For my send off they contributed an extra Ksh8,000.
Everyone wants to volunteer in order to appear they are helping. The printed T-shirts with my image, each T-Shirt costing Ksh120, youths pay, so the T-shirt man gets Ksh 6,000 from my death.
Everyone wants to speak in my funeral. There is drama all over from people who never knew how I survived. There was rumour that I was murdered by my friends. People falsely accused my successful relatives of sacrificing me. Speeches are made on how talented I was even those who never attended my events. The few friends who supported me didn’t get the chance to speak during my funeral although they knew the Truth. In fact they are prime suspects for my death………………
Don’t show people Love when they are gone show when they can appreciate you..
Call people when they can pick your call not when they are gone and you pretend to shed crocodile tears when in fact they cannot hear you.
THIS IS THE IRONY OF LIFE; WE LOVE THE DEAD MORE THAN THE LIVING.