Happy New...

-
Last year or should I say just the other week, ooh time the unconscious high-flying bird.  A lady friend invited me over for supper, and with my innocence of knowledge and purest of intention, after long consultative meetings with Self, we eventually agreed to honor the invite, a gentleman should never turn down a lady, right? 
Jesting.

Two hours after the proposed time, knocking at her door boldly for  I have, in my mind’s handbook, explicit rules for the very situations. I got her a packet of chocolate and some oranges to hide my "admitting" I was late though it’s always nice to carry something with you when visiting, my great-grandparents laid the rules, I heard. 
I watched her give that all-is-forgiven smile accompanied by a brightly lit face feeling like she was the best thing to ever occur in this world after sliced bread.

Anyways, she did the cooking, some gently wet fried fish, ugali to the left, a cup of cold water, and some chilies as my country people would put it kwa umbaaaali. The food checked the cook by all means, at this point I mean the looks, how tempting to have a taste, but I did leak my fingers, it was delectable too, still, the food.

Minutes later as I gulped the cold water while dropping some pointless taffy lines to break the awkwardness, at around 1030pm, after being served warm water to wash my fishy hands, how innocent I was, the bull at confusing a slaughterhouse for a marketplace. Let me remind you when the deal is too good, re-read your notes.

I got a call from my neighbor, stranded at the gate. Just the two of us left in the compound after everyone else went voting that holiday. I responded in a robust, well-fed voice; Ok, kiasi nakuja clearing my throat off the nice morsel of curry powder still stuck in it. My friends, things turned bitter-sweet.

On hanging up, I met with a Unaenda wapi and thought for a minute she was being 'casual'. Of course, I had to leave at some point. Then she pointed out jokingly, that the caretaker latches the gate at exactly 10 pm till the following day at 5 am. I thought she was fooling so I popped the question to a buddy living the same block with her, and my friend she was right. I felt a thin cold sweat flow down my spine, I'd never spent a night out and at a lady’s place.

All I can say till now is, that king kalala's voice started playing for I don't know how long in my head " hatakama ni 3yrs, nitarudi kwa drawing board tuta-restructure and nitakudi....". It was nice my people, I was eaten let me tell you, NO IS STILL  CONSENT.

 A moment of silence for unwanted greatness…

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How You See It

-
Men can be beautiful.  So this is a story about beautiful men, or rather, a beautiful man. A man of Perfect legal years, not young enough for sling bags and fake chains around his neck, nor old enough for a front shirt pocket where everything goes in first with a pen always hanging there, sometimes a rosary around the neck, a tucked-in T-shirt, safari boots, and khaki pants, just old enough and defiantly happy. It's also a story about words and their definition. Not from a dictionary, but from a perspective. Words are like chameleons, and it's all about where they sit that you can define the colour. It's also a story about familiarity and and it's effects. So it's a story about a lot of things. Of course, you never expect a story to be about a specific thing. Like a story about mangoes, a story can never be entirely about mangoes, or watermelons, or sneakers. A gentleman is standing in a Matatu that is almost two times filled. It's rush hour, and everybody is la...
Read more

Cate's Season.

-
Image
I'm at the door taking deep breaths, not the kind you do after a small mouthy dog has been chasing you. Those small things have a way of frightening everyone, like they can just sneak up into you and bite the most delicate part of your existence. So you find yourself running, unlike the big ones, you hardly run from them when they are serious, you just freeze and let your soul do the running. I'm taking deep controlled breaths, the kind you do when you feel a deep trembling in your stomach and your heart wants to jump out from pounding too loud, so you have to breathe deep to relax everything, and most particularly hold the heart in place, then try to act absolutely fine which sometimes has lot's of peculiarities and takes people with special eyes to see.  I'm very nervous, it happens when you know exactly what to expect but not how to handle it.  I ran into the old man at the door, always do, but he's always coming in on my way out, so I quickly figured there...
Read more

Fast Last Time.

-
Image
He made me, red-handedly staring at her artistic curve in her short miniskirt, too short to be considered a cloth but also not the traditional skin, it was complete all-round, no need to adjust it to your behinds when someone is following you The lights shining from behind understood the assignment, illuminating her inner thighs through the see-through piece of cloth she had around her bottoms but that wasn't my focus; how does she manage this cold? Is anyone up already to get some work? Early birds may be looking for some warmth perhaps, I wondered.  It must pay, she wasn't alone at that time of the day, and neither was she the pioneer of such hours of operations. Our eyes collided as I turned to look through the other side of the window, and we all smiled. It's a men's thing; we agree in the simplest form on anything we all find interesting. I've been there before   man. He started, they always do. I don't know how I get them to, but they talk.  I didn't g...
Read more