You think you have seen them all until someone chucks a success card you sent them in class eight. This is a whole different story, altogether. I mean, all women are crazy but some are truly crazier than others. With the traffic situation today, I was stuck at a spot which reminded of an encounter I had some time back.
I was onto one of those random two-three many with a childhood bud, let’s call him T. His friend had a gig as a DJ at some haunt in the Ngara area, Nairobi. This was not my original plan, though. I had reluctantly tagged along from T’s prodding and more so, for lack of a better plan.
Soon, dawn begun suggestively licking the drowsy nightscape. I picked my cue to nudge T into joining the great migration that throngs nippy Nairobi mornings the day after. Well marinated and stubborn as ever, we just managed to moved joints. He said he was intent on grabbing some this or (l)ass.
We ended up in a smoky, stuffy underground spot where I remember following a South American football tournament. A cold Pilsner thrusted my already violated throat and kept the ‘Smokey Robinson’ image in check.
Right across was a lady. Or as they call it nowadays mteke!
She wasn’t particularly a thing of beauty, but those Gazongas elicited involuntary jaw-dropping. She was serious too, and not an off the mill ‘trapster’. Still, she was worldly and very particular on Stickmatisation which just intensified my interests as she appeared feeery ‘innocent’
All this, I learnt on the second meeting. It was on a random weekday and safely tucked in a corner ideal for canoodling. See, she was full of surprises. This time, she flipped some Chinaman phone and be hold, her glorious preciousness shot from several possible (and impossible) angles appeared in all the graininess pixels could offer!
I almost tilted the table over as levers worked my fulcrum when I peered closely enough –
Man, even Moses had not seen anything as dense one as that. The bush was stronger on this one!
Don’t ask why I kept on – I dropped enough hints for a smooth course of action, and on a particular Thursday evening, I was to transport the ‘Merchandise‘ home. One liiiiiiiiittle problem. I had about Kshs. 550 /- to my name. The month has taken a particularly nasty turn, but blue balls know no month, rather the many months gone by.
I had to wait for her to leave work (at some cinema) and had planned on hanging about the office until it was time.
All the same, I couldn’t sweep her off straight away to the stage. Tact. So I decided to gamble with one as I waited. She came, and naturally, had to order for her as well. She seemed in no rush. Therefore, even as I drained the last drags from my bottle, I steered the conversation towards leaving.
Then she ordered another.
My balls cringed.
Shortly after, I had only 150 /- to my name. Fare for both of us would be Kshs. 200… even as she kept asking what my plan was.
Bang your brains off ya mean?
“Yeah, yeah, we hang around this local, have a few, dance, at least before dawn…”
She had high heels and the walk to the stage was a painfully slow torture as my mind shuttled between how I’d make up for the fiscal shortage and giving her enough excitable reasons – in case she decided to change her mind mid – stream.
Boy, I dint even have fare back to work the coming day – but I was fery fery determined that the Syokimau Train spends the night at the Embakasi terminal.
We’re seated on the mat, at about 12:30 pm. It’s one of those late night javs run by a racket intent taking advantage of transport shortage.
Part II, en route.
My DEaR Wa-jee-raw*!
I would want to break into your thoughts with what’s written in my heart!
Hey wait, waiiiiiiiiit, let me tone it down as you would when you smear your Kimbo-vasirini* and the layer is too much for your mothiririmos* liking and those soft hands rise over and above your chocolate thighs…
Oh, the sighs that come out unbidden out of my lips when i ritho* you do your rishio*.
Surely, there’ll be no rats to interupt your animated grunts as my rhumbas serenade and refresh your body, soul and mind (in that oda!) like the ka-Novida*drink i brought you from the big city!
Shy girl, shy girl, hear, hear, give me your ears for all these years i’ve wanted to see you draw that map on the red earth with your big toe…for such a market day like this, when your mother and mine rush to sell ndumas* and ikwas*, i’l invite you right into my hut…and what’s more, into my heart!
See, see, Wa-jiro, my rav*…i bought a brand new kanyitera and, tsk tsk, suprise, supriiiiiiiiiiiiiise, a pink lacy one…the kind cool girls in the big city wear!…don’t blush, don’t blush, Wa-jiro, don’t blush, because even as rains have disappointed, i shall stand to appoint you with countless reasons…reminiscent of the days we rolled carefree on the green grass carpet and it’s viridity merged with our childhood innocense….
Hold on, hold on…Wa-jiro…i know you got no humor tumor in your head and i can not be simpler than this…but i can assure you, in Uni-verse-City, they don’t award degrees for virginity!
So, pris, pris, un-insure your thoughts from mindless chastity…
Ok!Ok!OK!My bad!I fixed the bed, i swear i did…that by the time the sun bleeds over Gaichanjiru Village and the mishumaris are loose, i bet the crickets will swallow the creaking with the rhymes of their chymes….
Oh…there comes your nyukwa, i must go!
laughter in that language – i told you!
*Wa-jiro > Wanjiro- the name of a young maiden Kikuyu girl.
Kimbo-Vaserin >Kimbo is a cooking fat brand- folks in the village back in the day applied it as you would Vaseline…vaserin is, yes, Vaseline!
Rishio> Ritual, hehe
Ka-Novida > Novida – a refreshing non alcoholic drink from the Schweppes and Cocacola stable…assumed to be ‘up-market, mobile…with-it city folks…
Ndumas & Ikwas > Arrowroots and…Arrowroots…they’re all dug out!
rav >love, lol.
Kanyitera > a smoky lamp made of tin, a wick and paraffin…emits a lot of smoke!
Nyukwa> A derogative term to refer to ‘your mother’.
….. CNN is streaming into the room about stuff we have little control over, and am diligently digging into my Ugali*.
“Wasn’t Samson’s eyes gouged out in Gaza?” Mum chips in and i re-focus. Beaming ominously,on a low resolution camera, images from Gaza…man records brother death,the running footnotes read.
mum?details? how could she know that and i don’t? my eyes widened, mind flipped open, challenged.
i must admit that…even as i dug the good book for a better preview…it was mainly fueled by skepticism. Sorry ma’…but besides my doubts, i discovered some things.
you know the story…most of you does(?) but hear, hear, hear me out on this.
Samson! Son of Manaoh, from the tribe of Dan…born of a former-barren unnamed woman…obsessed with the kisses and caresses of the enemy daughters’…i consider him a hero, a tragic hero,like say, Oedipus. Oedipus the King.
From Judges 13, this life story rolls on…and before i sink his mother further into oblivion…like her husband and the Angel of the Lord, let me quote for you a little evidence of the apparent chauvinism that overrode in these times.
(KJV) Judges 13: 3 “…And the angel of the LORD appeared unto the woman, and said unto her, Behold now, thou art barren, and bearest not: but thou shalt conceive, and bear a son.”
But Manoah, the soon-to-be dad…thinks his ‘woman‘ is insane and calls upon the Lord for another sign…
9 “And God hearkened to the voice of Manoah…”
J’dges 13: 13 “And the angel of the LORD said unto Manoah, Of all that I said unto the woman let her beware…” The angel of the Lord further sunk her into obscurity of history, she who was to give birth to the strongest man to have lived in Israel…their savior and liberator.
The other thing that amused me about Samson, a ‘liberated free soul’…was his ‘poetic inclination’.
Though we can’t calibrate it on the ‘Shakespearean scale’…he was expressive and captured his emotions precisely, giving ambiguity a wide berth. Mostly, it showed up in times of turmoil.
On his way to a town called Timnah, to betroth his first love, a woman ‘who had pleased him well’ against his parents wishes, he kills a lion (Judges 14:5)…and what better way of keeping this heroic secret (Judges 14:6), than by encrypting it in a riddle at his wedding?
“Put forth your riddle, that we may hear it!” over a bet (Judges 14:13)… the sons of Timnah, eager to hear and win, urged him on.
Here, i prefer my NIV version Bible that reads like:
“Out of the eater, something to eat;
Out of the strong, something sweet‘ (Judges 14:14)
Three days were to elaspe and with no clear answer, the sons of Timnah pushed the bride to seduce the answer from him ‘or did she bring this man to rob from us?’ You know what transpired, after she ‘vexed him to death…and thus, he burst:
If ye had not plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle. Judges 14:18 (KJV)
Brethren, there is something i think you should note here…after this bet went against him.
“…he went down to Ashkelon, and slew thirty men of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of garments unto them which expounded the riddle. ” Judges 14:19
It’s this same Ashkelon that appears in Zephaniah 2:4
Zeph. 2:4 (KJV) “For Gaza shall be forsaken,
And Ashkelon desolate;…”
the stripper of Gaza
Maybe this is where i should chip in what attracted most to this page: the stripper of Gaza. It’s true there was one…only then, they called them ‘harlots’ not ho’z…
Then went Samson to Gaza, and saw there an harlot, and went in unto her. And it was told the Gazites, saying, Samson is come hither. Judges 16:1 (KJV, def!
So there you have it, the harlot, contrary to many miss-conceptions, this teacher tells thee, was not Delilah..Delilah, was just a girl that Samson saw and loved…
“And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah.” Judges 16:4
i see yawns here and there, so let me wind up..AAAAAAAAAmen, haloooooo?(dont you dislike when preachers do this?)
So, Samson’s eyes were gouged at Gaza, i verified..
But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house. Judges 16:21
And the most foolish thing, or failure in this plot..the Philistines actually allowed his hair to grow again eventually killing them off? (Judges 16:22)
End of Sermon.
when i woke up leo, i was a really sad face. sad as tortoise…but some drama in the mat woke me up n i smiled all the way to school/work….
we were sitted pensively in the mat, everyone engrossed in their own world, probably contemplating on what kimunya’s budget offered for the ordinary mwananchi when out of the blue, the concordi hit the roof…literally…and everyone turned…not because it was odd…but coz we were in this no-man-land area and curiosity had us hostages-who could be alighting at this place at that hour of the morning?
no sooner had our heads turned when a commotion arose, the dere pulled over and the short thing disguised as a tout jumped out…with this passenger hot on his scruff…guys, i was shocked!
mungiki! i almost shouted…but there was no one with close semblance to the modoathii kind(no pun!)…was in sight, brandishing a bloody panga…
be4 we could even hear the bone of contention, the dere was struggling to open his jammed door (i was a ol’ ol’ mkebe mat) hurling unprintables..but they are bloggable..heheh..mbwa kasia, nyani…
by this time, the dwarf concordi was on the ground chewing grass as he couldn’t withstand the numbing blow administered by the jamaa who was physically way better endowed..if that makes sense … then, as the shocked passengers watched, the jamaa was bouncing bouncing belligerently, like a prize boxer baying for his victims blood…
then the driver showed up, n when we thought the whole thing would be sorted…he launched on his own Weapons of stubborn Passenger destructions…and wasn;t that thumped hard..
“we unatupotezea wakati, tunaenda kazi!!!” those not amused were now shouting…other cars were now stopping to ‘witness’ and i’ve never felt like laughing on such a ‘serious’ situation…
eventually, the jamaa was let go with seriuos bruises to nurse and the tout had since spat the bunch of glass he had swallowed…
n it was then that we learnt of why the fate of the person had to be like that…he had refused to pay full fare:twenty bob and wanted to foot half of that coz ‘alikuwa anashukia junction‘
…he went half of his destination and paid half of the whole route’s full fare…
talk about miscalculations…oh…n he got to buy some bandage for the thungurima‘s on his head too…
am still jolly!