If there is anything as old as the earth, it is sin. We all know far too well that there is nothing tastier than forbidden fruit, especially if that fruit comes with old flames and a waistline tighter than your fanbelt.
It all started in the garden of Eden, where man was clearly told not to eat of the tree of knowledge. The flesh however is very weak and we all have given in ; one time or another, and decided to find out what this fruit tastes like.
Yes, that which we should not have is what we desire the most. Todays technology makes our wanting and the process of getting far too easy. Smart phones come with all manner of applications that will keep our secrets. From codes that should bear more than the required capital letter, numeric, Egyptian Hieroglyphic alphabet, blood from a virgin, to those that ask to scan your pupil to allow access. I will share the story of my pal John, whose discovery of a nifty new chat that has a “for your eyes” only ability, and will literally self-distract in one second; and how this app helped fan old flames into an inferno .
Telegram; will be the death of marriage and many a stable relationship. Either that or it will save many, given that what you do not know will proverbially not kill you.
On a slow Saturday afternoon, as he was “ funguaring lock” John stumbled across Telegram which promised to work better than all other chat apps. So , being a curious cat, he downloaded Telegram, and scrolled through the many delightful features and pleasantly hilarious emoticons. He then saw the New group option with its icon of two grey coloured persons. Right under it was New secret chat with is icon of a padlock. Mmmmmhhhhhh? Wharrizthis? (I hope you can see him teetering at the edge of a very steep cliff, the bottom of which is deep red molten lava whispering his name).
John quickly clicks on the new secret chat icon, which took him to all of his contacts who were already using Telegram. He could not understand why his heart was beating a little faster.
He scrolled down his contact list, arranged neatly in alphabetical order, A, B, C, he wondered if everyone he knew was named by letter C. Goodness! Will this never end? He reached M…his mother was on telegram? Why? Note to self “ask her why she is one here and how she got here before me…nkt! Cucu manyanga business will be the end of me!
His patience is waning, but he is also distracted by the profile photos his contacts have put up. John continues scrolling down just a little longer… the experience is borderline exhilarating. Is this what the white “ masters “ felt as they picked out slaves? A light skinned girl, right next to another “light “ skinned girl, he knows for a fact she bought her shade of yellow, he hopes she can get her money back. “ Look at this one, whose child is that he is holding?” Surely some of these pictures require captions. By Ceasar! This one has lost weight, she looks fantastic, he hopes her bitch levels have reduced as much as her girth. And ooooooh! There was his favourite niece, looking all grown up… perhaps a little less cleavage would do…clearly her mother is not on Telegram; another note to self “ask her how she is doing, and if she has a boyfriend” such photos are obviously designed to strike jealously or get attention, children of nowadays! A few more none interesting photos and then he saw a photo reading team money, name saved as Shetani….he is confused. Who is this? Mmmmmmh….and then it hit him, the “team money” aka Shetani fell into his black list after feeding him BS on why he could not repay the 50k John loaned him. And now he is team money? Shetani kweli! Another note to self “call the looser and demand my money…team money my ass!” Maskini Jeuri, Nkt!
John reached the end of his contact list, marked by the last contact, named X. Accompanying photo is of a blusing bride, and she is breath taking. John clicks on it to magnify, and his breath is taken away. “She got married? Kwani when did we achana?” Quick math and it doesn’t seem right, it has barely been 18 months! WTH?
It is hot, very hot. He pushes open the window with a little more force than required. Its not enough… he walks to the door and kicks it open. Johns is now pacing and doesn’t even know it…surely, she did not get married! He had always harboured feelings for her, and felt sure he would have one more hook up. Sigh! She meant it when she broke it off. Bloody hell!
The unanswered questions are begging for answers, surely he deserves answers and “closure”. As if al the name calling and new marital status of “X” were not closure enough. John just could not let it go, he decided to text her.
But wait she is married.
What if she gets in trouble?
But she is a grown woman! She will decide for herself, and it is just a question!
Mmmmmh! I will secret chat her.
Back to the menu, open secret chat.
A little window with instructions appears.
Use end to end encryption
Leave no trace on our servers
Have a self destruct timer
Do not allow forwarding
*insert angels voices singing Halleluya!
Baaaaaaas! Problem solved!
John type “Hello!” clicks send.
Then he realized how cheesy that looks….the kikuyu cover immediately starts playing in your mind.
He is now grinning foolishly, yes, she always did make him smile.
Then you remember about the James Bondesque self-destruct element.
Where is it? Aha…
He sets the timer for 1 minute… then he wonders what type of people use the one second option… true secret agents? Or the high risk takers? Anyway, if she does not respond in the one minute then you will know.
His phone vibrates, with an unfamiliar tone. It must be her!
As my dear John seats across from me relating of the activities that followed, I quietly wonder how many other people are sliding down this same slope, rediscovering, ruffling feathers, dancing with the devil.
Is the grass greener on the other side?