Jirani chronicles

Image
              So I'm just chilling at my crib, I decided to call my G huwa namuita anko, (don’t ask why, story for another day because that story needs a whole episode on its own), tuonge tupange ma one two. Hata hatujaongea sana, nasikia my door ina gongwa gongwa na vurugu. Na pause kiasi.  You know that moment where your spirit steps out of your body for a second to peep through the curtain before you do? Yeah, that one. Na hang up call with my G, saa hio nashangaa ni nani huyu ananitafuta na fujo hivi? Naenda kuangalia, alafu nifungue, nijue how it will go down ie kama kutakuwa na throwing of fists. Kuangalia tu hivi, ni three burly men, wamekula chuma wakashiba ka crocodile imemeza wildebeest mzima time huwa zina cross River Mara Na tense kiasi, but najipiga kifua nilikuambia kama mbaya mbaya! Nafungua mlango nijue venye kutaenda, wananicheki hivi, design wanarudi chini then wako zile za  “Pole.” One of them turns to the rest anawaambia...

Ma thigh๐Ÿ˜


On Christmas day of 2021, I was in downtown Nairobi to pick something, don't ask what. Somewhere close to a river, and bridge, and one old tree. Old as time itself. Off the main drag of this hubbub is Nairobi. The road there was wet, potholed, muddy, and puddled. The bars are small, with net curtains fastened to small full water bottles on one end. The bars there are noisy. Plus the noise there is vulgar. And the vulgar-ness is eternal. 

It keeps going. It keeps germinating. It keeps growing. It keeps shooting at you with, 

“How can they say that in public?”



That place had also another resident fame. 

Thighs! 

Let me tell you, beloved reader, there is a place in this city where thighs are big and expansive, well-oiled, and willing to see the outside. Standing thighs, seated thighs. One thigh on top of another thigh thighs. You will see thighs emerge from doors behind unholy darkness. 
Daytime darkness. Thighs that look like they have grown under a greenhouse-controlled atmosphere. Thighs that looked like they could grow healthy Hass avocado seedlings to fruition.  I don't think I have seen such a huge congregation of thighs in one place before—not that I have been actively looking. And I don't think I will ever—again.
That day, someone called me. I didn't pick. Later on, they called me to ask me why I didn't pick up their call. I couldn't say, I was at a place where thighs were endless. I profess openly not to be a thigh guy 99.9% of the time. 
I am a hot chocolate guy. Thighs can't affect me the same way hot chocolate would. I just remembered this because I recently saw a video on YouTube of a guy that filmed that part in Nairobi, and what he filmed, oh boy! came back with a true testimony of those thighs.


Written by Ndugu Abisai.

Edited by Letstoriesunfold ™

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Death at a funeral, the interrogation.

Cloud 9 , what's next?

Back to the basics.

Miss Anonymous 2