Only 6 Malawians attended my first high school. Three of them were in my year, two of them were girls and for a very long time, I thought one of them was my friend.
Her name was Wali. She was Malawian, short and popular. There was this after-school club we both went to, it was called Computer Club for Girls [CC4G]. My mum would pick us up in her way home from work every Thursday. It was possibly the coolest club I’ve ever been in. I think I liked it so much because in that little computer room, it was almost like everyone forgot I was a loser and I could just be… normal.
One day, on a Monday, I got into a fight with Wali. I don’t remember what it was about, all I know is I didn’t speak to her. Come Thursday, coincidentally the day she would need me to be her ride, she came to me and apologised and me being the naive 11/12 year old I was, I ate that shit right up.
My older sister had witnessed all of this and pulled me aside to tell me that she was using me. Up to this day, I still don’t know whether she told me out of love or out of spite.
I brushed my sister off but this became a recurring pattern in my friendship with Wali. Fight sometime during the week, make up on Thursday. Too bad I wanted to cling onto every person that talked to me so much I let them treat me like shit. If that shit were to occur in the present, I would’ve dropped that bitch faster than [insert example that makes me look cool here].
I suppose I ought to thank her. I am much more sensitive to people’s intentions these days. Nothing comes for free. I’ve learned to question people when they take an interest in me.