boyfulani and the ‘stomach pangas’

September 29, 2008 at 6:02 pm | Posted in he-motions, life, re-treated.. | 11 Comments
Tags: ,

cretus ndung’u kiratu.

that’s my cousin for you.

i happen to masquarade under the same name- though with some alterations-interchangeably, actually. maybe this is why we were tight back in the day. me and him, him and me?cretus and kiratus? meeeeeeeeeen, like the legendary two cheeks of the butt, we faced life side to side- only shit came in between.i know that phrase is as tired as some backsides, but…it did work then.

ok, i mean, our history runs deep- picture the abovecracks. sometimes, it got through messy and gross phases like the former statement. but the memory has since remained…

see, it was like this. every holiday, we met at our granniez place. it was the ultimate meltdown for any holiday- we never kosad plans. it was only recently that i went rural and discovered little else had changed. grannies kitchen still has the same 19 fote fae trass…with soot hanging above like icicles in an iceland igloo.black soot, mark you, threatening to spice up your indigenous meal.(i wonder what all those sons in US of Ass do for mum)

anyway, it is here that cretus and i whetted our vast appetite. cretus had a tad too big of an appetite than mine, considering his physique. he had( or still has) this dark complexion, a footballish head that always reminded me of a character in those west african treadsetter storybooks i liked (Foli Fights the Forgers, Eyes and Ears)…his teeth were neatly arranged like a freshly harvested maize cob (or do u se ‘unorwad?-‘peeled’ that is) and his mouth amused me most when he had to do some stunt that cracked me up kabisa- he imitated his dads Toyota Hilux,  KYX 345, which has definately seen better days…

” vreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeem” he would ‘vroom’, his mouth forming a funny protrusion, little drops of saliva spilling forcefully out of his pursed lips. i ‘poured myself in laughter’ (kuing’aurira mitheko yaani’.at times, he used this to crack me up when i was mad at him.

nooooooooooow, this particular holiday, before a shosho spinned for us ugali no. 19 (the one that turns green in the morning) and some patches of sukumawiki, cretus thought of a very bright idea. it was a hot aftey, lunch was late, and we were  quite bored. we unanimously agreed that we ‘could check on some juicy sugar cane over the hedge owned by one key-raw(a neighbouring no non sense man whose name, ‘myth and legend’ had it was from ‘ kill…then killo…pronounced, kee-raw.people used to ask him to ‘kill’ for them one sugarcane from his fairly large plantation…

so, here we were, Cretus taking the honour of making headway into the plantation…bundles of neatly tied sugarcane were a stone throw away from the fence…and man, dint they look juicy? Cretus went ahead to ‘kagua gwaride ya kwanza/inspect the 1st parade…and i was hunched at another trying to look for the root of this particularly dark one(the darker the cane, the sweeter the juice). kwak!Cretus was chap chap, down went his first harvest, kWak! again, the ‘githethwa’(non sweet part) was away and before he could start eating at his, i literally swang with mine…and came down with it..

“tiga waana man!” wacha utoi man, we will be heard…

no sooner…ok now this sounds like a compo….had i started to peel my piece of cane than some rufflings from inside the plantation came through….

“gai, key-raw!” i could see the terror in eyes as he chorad a K, cane still in hand.

i,the other kiratu, dropped my cane and as i picked up with his pace, i heard some breeze pass by leg…grease in my knees kwishad-it was a fcking panga!!!!

rugamai hau ihii ishi kana demohore fanga cia da!” stop, you lads or i slash your stomachs..

the coward i was couldn’t move another step and i just stood still…Cretus on the other hand, was on  his way up the fence.

i had sold him, but haidhuru, key-raw was going to kill me, so it mattered less…or so i thought.

a rude hand grabbed me, dragged me along as he shouted at Cuzo, who was now looking back..cane still in hand: you go and you get your brother delivered in pieces…tonite.

the finality in his voice, the murder he wrote with his eyes…Cretus had to bow down.

at least- i lived to tell the tale!

Advertisements

11 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. Cretus Kiratu? Key-raw? LMAO!!!

  2. sounds like one of the Moses (UG) tales…lol

  3. Oooh yeah the Moses stories! U have such a memory! The story here is hilarious! You win boy

  4. lived to tell the tale indeed!

  5. Yeah! ‘Moses and the sugar cane farm’.

    Hilarious story…

  6. RLMFAO….

    Sugarcane stories indeed..

  7. HILARIOUS!You guys didnt have plot,what we used to do is you cough violently at the same time as the sugarcane breaks.Whether it works in other scenarios,I dont know,it so happens our ‘Kee-raw’ was partiallt deaf.

  8. lived to tell the tale. hehehe!!

  9. @madmyke
    now that is what u call plot? coughing violently as you break the canes….he he

  10. Hahahhahahaha, Val. It does indeed!

  11. […] remember the dude of the sugarcane muhadhara? well well, Cretus Kiratus was here to welcome me, host and helped me hoist my flag in several […]


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: