Sad, bad, dad

Jambo, jambo not-so-bwana...habaregaregare-not-so-good-zana.

Today, I don't feel so good. I feel bad. Actually, I'm quite sad. This is one of the worst days I've ever (and I really thought I would never ever ever ever have) had. I feel like I have to apologize for the sadness that is appearing in my eyes, and I wish that I was full of lies. But I'm not, unfortunately, and not so fortunately. I'm sure you must wonder what is happening with me, but I can assure your that it is not some zebra allergy.

The truth be, my wifey left me. It did not happen today, actually it happened the other day. But I thought she would come back from the store, so I could make love with her once more. But she never came back... first I thought she had been eating by a lion (you know, iron like a lion in zion), 'couse she had forgotten her iron, and then it's easy getting eatin' by a lion when you walk in the muddy streets of Zion (which is our neighbourhood, which I'm sure you understood). But when I never found a lion with stomache problems (which would be quite understandable, 'couse my wifey is quite big, you know? BIG!!!), I concluded that it couldn't be the explanation of my wife's silence.

So I took a walk in the safari and bathed with the zebras to get rid of all the sticky mud that I had on my back after grinding on a dirty elephant. And while I did that I saw something floating in the water...it was a NEWSA PAPAH! You know, the tingz you read from by following your finger from one line to anotha without any help from your silly motha or angry father? That's right, a Newsa papah! Any how, any where, any who, how 'bout you, how do you do and what to do when you don't have a clue, in this newsa papah it was written something that I thought was quite silly, really. It was written "Bachelorette party - let's party hardy hardy and forget our hearty hearty!" (direct quote from the daily newsa papah "letters from Zion, watch out for the lion"). And on the front page of the papah it was a picture of my wife. She wasn't holding a knife like she usually does when she is in the kitchen while she makes me my favorite dish called "nGele jelele", but I could still see it was her. She is quite chunky (eh...BIG, actually), so a husband like me would never ever be mistaken by those zebra noodle salad fingers of hers.

So I thought to myself; does my wifey who usually holds a knifey want to be a bachelorette and get rid of ME, her husband from above who always gives her much appreciated love (or unappreciated as it looks like after reading the newsa papah) ????!!! Has she made a fool out of me? Is that the reason she said she wanted to go out and buy me tea, when she was actually taking secret cooking lessons to become a bachelorette?

And what now, you aks? Well, my quite unknown friend, if you aks me, I'll through the muddy ball right back at you, aiming at your belly to make your shirt dirty (sorry, but I am sad, you know...and when I'm sad, I do stupid foolish tingz like that, being almost as silly as a cat trying to kill a rat) and aks you: WHAT THE JAMBO-EH-EH-SHAKY-FREAKING-KILLING-A-HYENAH-WHILE-DANCING-ON-A-ROCK-AND-STOMPING-MY-LEGS-IN-A-RARE-ANIMAL-AM-I-GOING-TO-DO-WITH-MY-LIFE?!! Who will now be my African wife for life?

As I said, I am sad. And I feel like a bad dad. I got the best son I have ever had. He is actually quite rad, if I can say so myself. But now he doesn't have a mommy (the mommy was not my wifey, but don't tell my son, couse he will be so surprised, you know. And that's not good).

I hope I can go on with my life and get a new wife. This time, maybe for life...