thoughts and musings and things like that
Gharama ya passpoti
Gharama ya passpoti

Gharama ya passpoti

“Mtoto wetu alikuwa huko… miaka kumi na mbili aliishi huko”

“Haishi huko tena?”

“Aaaaaaa, hata alikuwa keshakuwa raia. Passpoti anayo”

“Na?”

“Tikiti ya kuenda huko kusoma kalipa yeye. Tikiti ya kurudi nikalipa mwenyewe.”

“Mmmm”

“Huko alienda kusoma kama wewe tu. Kisha akaanza kazi. Lakini hata uwe raia, bado wewe huko ni mpitanjia. Hawakukubali.”

“Aaa nadhani nakuelewa.”

“Hivi unavayoniona nimeenda huko mara kadhaa matembezi. Huko kwa watu kama sisi ni shida tupu.”

“Mara nyingi hivyo”

“Si mara nyingi. Mwanangu si mimi nakwambia alikuwa hadi na passpoti. Kazi akakosa. Akawa anakatalia huko, akiteseka bure. Nikashangaa, passpoti itakulisha? Itakupea furaha na ukamilifu? Uraia utakushibisha?”

“Hapana.”

“Basi? Nilimwambia rudi nyumbani. Nikamlipia nauli ya ndege.”

“Naona.”

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