Nòî

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On another episode of: things that never happened, or did they? Saturday or Sunday, many many many moons ago. I used to go to the bafu na towel pekee always wondering how women always walked around in skirts. So after showering it was free mode mpaka kejani. Kwa buloti, it was a communal bathroom so you had to carry your bucket. Na ukipata mtu yuko ndani, unapanga laini. On this particular day nilikuwa nimechemsha maji niko ready kuingia kwa bafu, jirani beat me to the bathroom by seconds. I left my bucket full of warm water hapo nikiwa frustrated then nikaingia kejani kutime akitoka, naruka ndani. Asubuhi gets chilly so you can't just hang around there waiting ukiwa kifua iko nje, umejifunga towel pekee. Akamaliza nikaskia mlango yake imefunga, nikakimbia bafu fasta fasta maji yangu isipoe, ingepoa ingekuwa balaa. Kumbe she was not yet done, alikua ameacha karai yake na maji hapo ndani arudi kuosha kifuniko. Mimi naye nokatoa hio basin nje nikaingia kwa bafu, this is not ...

Nyama!


This days, I don't eat meat, be it red, white, or multi colored like an army's gear. 


Reason why? 




Let me take you a few years back. I used to live at Naivas by then, a common hustler in that lakeside estate called Kihoto, kwa mukorino mwisho. Living in a single mabati apartment room posh enough to have a cemented floor. 

When I say hustler, I mean hustler or rather what Mbusii says, “sufferer”. There are people who came through massively for me in my life a lot like Mama Njoki. Mama Njoki had certain a “Villa Rosa Kempinski” kibandaski, near the stage offering, and serving all types of meals. 

At Mama Njoki's place you could even have a pizza if you fancied. 


Let's chill on that for a moment.


Back to the main story, I was a life member at Mama Njoki's, meaning it's where I took all of my meals. I could eat, without a coin to my name because I was trusted.


You are wondering how I pulled it off, 

aren't you?


We used to supply the place with assorted foodstuffs managu (African nightshade) grown in dirty water to roadkill to chicken that had died mysteriously on farms, and that is where my story comes in. 


Aaaah, 

kitanzi sasa!


It was one morning, I was going out there looking for a hustle, until the devil decided to give me an escort. I had left the warm embrace of my blanket and bed early in the morning to try my luck out in the streets.

I was on a two wheeled cycling chopper from a certain friend of mine from Bungoma. My first stop was straight to the “Villa Rosa” 


“Kata katia mimi masikio ng'ombe, 

na uweke stew.”


(Apologies for using a scientific name, what it means is cut for me a few local mandazi made from wheat grinded at a local posho mill, and add some soup.) 


Too bad for me, the meat supplier had delayed, so I had to make due and eat ma capsules (beans) or in layman's terms madondo. I hurriedly ate my breakfast, and hopped on my chopper. You would have seen me, morale up there, it's on the 10th floor. 

From the way I was cycling, you could have felt the power of Mama Njoki. From town, I took the Mai Mahiu road, just right before kwa Fai Amario, I changed route and took south lake road towards Oserian. A few metres ahead of me, I saw black and white stripes. A zebra had stretched out besides the road. 

I said the Lord's prayer and 

the grace combined.

Comments

  1. I used to think these stories about sukuma ya Nairobi being grown on sewerage ni story za jaba until you confirmed everything 😂😂 I thought it was a fragment of my imagination kumbe it was true 🙂na vile zilikua green vizuri

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  2. What did you do to my dead donkey? 🤣🤣

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  3. Now I wanna know what you did to that zebra😂

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  4. 😆😆Nyama, nyama, nyama! Ya Zebra?! Nyama!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wee kwani iyo zebra ulifanyaje kwa njia 😹😹

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    Replies
    1. Find out in the continuation that has dropped today.

      Delete

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