As I listened to a radio interview one Tuesday night, a story idea which had played in my thoughts came to my conscious mind like an electric current surge. I had scribbled a sketch storyline in a piece of paper. Not being sure where I had kept it I found myself rummaging through my bedroom desk drawers.
My search turned out to be a sentimental reminder of my past: some supermarket receipts, long forgotten diaries, a Maasai Mara memento and other memorabilia and stuff. An unfamiliar purple notebook however attracted my attention. It could only be my wife’s. The handwriting confirmed my guess.
17th May 2011
“My mental anguish at the prospect of telling him the truth about Justin has eaten into my heart. I am not at peace. Yet peace and tranquility is all I ask God for. God!! ”
* * * *
That was three years ago. I, Angie and friends were having a good time, celebrating her birthday. But that was then. Why this secrecy now. Who is Justin? I flipped over……
* * * *
20th July 2011
“I know that I have been unfair. Having failed to disclose my complete orphan status and the truth about Justin is sickening me now. That in his deathbed my brother made me swear that should I get married and have children, I should name my first boy child Justin. Justin was our late mother’s he-goat. ”