Bachelorette Diaries, Wk46; 2012


Friday, 4:00 p.m.

The spies have been on to me like a pack of wolves, but thanks to Gwen’s tips on how to spot and lose them. The girl is a maverick, Mossad should hire her.

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Well, looking over your shoulder every other minute is a tiring task. At the end of the day you feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. For a girl like me, I don’t have time to take it slow, and were I not as ambitious and the owner Yedioth Ahronoth, Kenya, (technically that is), I would have quit my job immediately I got the gist that I was part of an elaborate conspiracy by a secret Jewish movement to take over the world.

Now I am fighting the forces, trying to keep what’s rightfully mine – the position high up there the totem pole that I have achieved without spreading my (luscious) legs for a man. I have worked for everything in my life and being a media girl (not courtesy of my father being the majority shareholder of Yedioth Ahronoth) has given me the stubbornness that I boast of.

Dad may argue that he has given me the family business, Gevin Technologies, to run here in Kenya, but he has given me nothing really. What he should have done is be straightforward with me, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.

I can take like a big girl (because they don’t cry) stuff about secret societies, but enlisting me for the same, even crowning me the Queen of the Sea without my knowledge is abomination.

Add that to my wrong choices of men. Intelligent women are not as intelligent because they make bad choices in the area where they ought to be smarter than their hormones are screaming. Dating a priest maybe forgiven for the obvious reasons, but dating a priest who is a murderer? – No one will listen to you. I hope Major Sang doesn’t turn out to be what I am not willing to imagine.

This week has seen more of this Fr. Frank thingy crawl out of the woodwork. Yeah, I have not listened to my boss’s warning to stop poking my head in where it shouldn’t. Blame it on dad’s genes.

Gwendolyn called me on Monday first thing in the morning and told me something else startling about Fr. Frank. All that time the damn priest was taking his sweet time to plough my southern sector with ferociousness of an obsessed, sexually deprived animal; he was cheating on me with some woman from the Israel embassy. What was it with him and women? Turned out this lady was the daughter of the Israel ambassador in Kenya, and he (the ambassador) knew. Damn him too. I had sat with him at a conference room at Ulinzi House, MOSD, striking a seemingly lucrative deal with the KDF for Gevin Technologies to install stealth software on their fighter jets. Jeez, what’s really happening? Everything goes round and comes back to me in one way or another. Am I that blind?

It was this lady who had called in a detail of Kenya’s spies and trigger-happy mbois in blue on me. Reason? It was my protection. Aren’t the goons supposed to be collecting and analysing intelligence for national security?

Gwen’s investigation led to the ambassador’s daughter after her name came up after one of Gwen’s snitches mentioned her in connection with Father Frank. Gwen and I have decided to dig deeper into this Fr. Frank mystery and solve it, but the trails are leading to places that are getting me spooked. Seriously.

I am wondering, who is Fr. Frank really? Why is his name coming up everywhere? I remembered what Gwen told me about the Director of Public Prosecution’s stance about Fr. Frank, and that the Israel government was involved. How does that connect with the Catholic Church? Something really complex and deep is going on, that I can say, but I wonder how all this connected to me is. Is it because I had a fling with this killer priest?

Well, in this world we never really know anyone, do we?

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