Hawkers Jameni IV

This is a continuation from 

Hawker Jameni III

           Why would they place such important things so distant from one another? I wondered. I ran up the next flight of stairs, knocking down a couple of mannequins. After asking yet another attendant, she pointed to the changing booths at the far end of the floor. 

I limped into the changing room and shut the door. I quickly chucked the shorts and stretched one rubber band, slid one foot into it and rolled it up to my thigh. I then tucked my homo erectus and held it against one thigh with the band. 

The bands were quite small and tight, the poor quality has a low elasticity so I added another one and walked out, like a normal human being – relieved- albeit with a slight limp. The bands were a little tight and uncomfortable but they were better than a dangling deek in public.

I was so relieved that as I walked down the stairs, I confidently saluted an attendant who was redressing the mannequins I had knocked down. I apologized after he gave me a nasty look. 

I descended to the ground floor where I found Mohawk waiting by the staircase. We walked towards the exit, picked up the TV and walked out of the supermarket. In the process of picking up the TV, I absentmindedly placed the box of rubber bands on the floor and walked out. 

We were three meters away from the entrance when someone shouted,

“Hey! 

Stop!”

I turned around and saw a young, petite, beautiful, female (Luhya) supermarket attendant running towards us. I stopped.

“Hizi haujalipia!” 

She shouted, pointing at the box of rubber bands she had in one hand.

“Oh damn! 

I forgot. 

Let me come and pay”

We walked back to the entrance and I placed the TV on the floor. Suddenly, just as I approached her, apologizing, I felt the rubber bands strain, stretch and then,

Snap!! 

Snap!! 

Snap!! 

Twap!!

The rubber bands snapped and one shot me right on my left ball, releasing Mr. Dickson as he slowly but seriously rose up, raising the front of my shorts and taking his earlier stance. It stretched like those kids’ toys that are sold by hawkers, the ones that you blow as they uncoil and stretch forward. 

I was too confused, in pain and embarrassed to do anything. I just stood there, frozen, with a humongous boner, in front of a huge lady old enough to be my mother, in front of curious passersby who had stopped to stare. 

My Mr Abdalla, 

was now fully stretched out, 

like those cranes, used in constructing tall storey buildings, 

&

it was throbbing with each heartbeat. 

The attendant looked at my ding dong, then at the stick in my mouth, at Mohawk, at the stick in his mouth (the Mukombero), then back at my stick and down to my Mr Abdalla, then back again at my brushing stick in slow motion. 

She slowly raised up both here hands, extending her stubby index fingers and pointed at both our toothbrushes and shouted at the top of her Luhya baritone voice - on Tom Mboya Street,

“MUKHOMBERO!!!”