Ilinirambaa aisee!

   The first time I bought a skirt, I did not intend to buy a skirt. Lakini, I bought  skirts and crop tops. I did not even have a girlfriend. Or at least a girlfriend that could fit those sizes.

Sasa, I was coming from Gwa Kairu, a place somewhere in Ruiru. We had a project there. This was the intervening period between college and the banking job. So, as you might have correctly guessed, I was an internal designer.

Let me explain, interior designers know what they are paid to do. Some have even gone to school to learn their craft. Then there is us, internal designers, we are not the same. Us we rely on the mercy of God to complete projects. 

In Kikuyu we say, “tuturagio ni kuiyumia.”

Remember Fred Gumo? 

His slogan? 

Kaa ngumu. 

That is how we did our jobs. 

Baas, we got to Githurai, hapo kwa roundabout. I think when Angel Gabriel finally blows the tarumbeta, he will be near Githurai. It is there that he is sure many people will hear it at the same time. It is important that many people hear it at the same time. Because if some of us don't hear it, Skiza Tunes will record it, package it and sell it to us at 2bob daily.

Anyway, people are crazily many there. There is always like 3 million people trying to buy either cabbage, or nyanya, or crop tops. Or crop tops and skirts and nyanya. In that order. Or not in that order. And now because kitunguu is very expensive, kitunguu.

Now, I was looking for trousers of material. There were two reasons to that, one is because I would be joining the corporate world soon plus, there was no way I was going there in my shorts.

All went well. I carefully selected and got seven trousers that made the cut. One for each day of the week and two to break monotony of the other five. Like, I have a specific trouser I wear for each day of the working week and to confuse my enemies, add two extra pairs so that nobody says that, 

“Kwani unavaanga hii trouser,”

“Monday zote?”

Baas, the seller even had a tape-measure. To look serious. Asking me to lift my hands so that she could measure my waist. I was a size 28 then. Right now, I am size 36. Growth I tell you. That is the lesson here. Growth—of the waist.

After selecting and being satisfied with the seven, she told me that she would add me one because that day I had been her best customer. I told her I would bring my friends there including Michael Joseph, one of the previous CEOs of Safaricom. We have always supported SMEs at Safaricom. I had dreams to work there. So I was manifesting. Well, now I work there at times but as a storyteller. Not the finance guy I wanted back then. 

“Uko na mahali pa kuweka, ”

“ama,”

“nikuwekee kwa paperbag ya 10?” 

She asked. It was before plastic bags were banned. I told her, sina. She remembered that I had bought many trousers and said, 

“Ama wacha nikuwekee hii yangu, ”

“ju wewe ni customer mzuri.” 

I was winning on every front. For the first time in many days I was winning. God surely does not sleep in Kayole. Or Githurai. She turned back to try push all my seven camera trousers in that bag. I even offered to help. But she told me, 

“Ahh, hizi vitu tumezoea sisi.” 

I told myself,  what a man can do? A woman can do better.

“Na uniletee customers wengine...”

“Sawa mom...”

I called her mom. Eih! Eloi Eloi Lamasabaktani! My God! Why have you forsaken me? In the matatu I kept imagining how my colleagues pale kwa new job will be asking me, 

“budaa!”

“hii nayo ulianua wapi?”

“Kuna mtu ulipiga ngeta walai!” 

That is how men compliment each other. Short story long, I got to the house thinking happy thoughts, the kind that gets you smiling sheepishly for nothing. I exercised a lot of patience with the trousers. I did not try to fit into  them immediately. Maturity has always been and is still my greatest strength to date. 

At around 9pm East African Time, I decided to fit my new-ish trousers. Can we, cry together? Eloi Eloi. Lamasabaktani. My God! Why have you forsaken me? I had bought 3 crop tops, 3 skirts, plus one thing that looked like a kimono. 

Technically I still had clothes for at least 3 days. But not to wear to a new job. That lady, the one whom I had called mom, was not where I had seen her when I went back the next day. So, I carried my skirts, my crop tops, and my kimono back home.

Fun  fact: I never wore them to work if that is what you wanted to ask. Once again, let us cry together; Eloi Eloi. Lamasabaktani. My God! Why have you forsaken me?

2015 was a good year, anyway. 

#NduguAbisai.