LICENCE TO CHEAT
Since a packet of Unga started retailing at sh 161, I don’t prepare any
meal at my place. What I do can’t be called cooking at all. It’s
avoiding death by starvation. I will at times prepare some strong tea
which I will take down together with my daily dosage of Kinyajuis
Mutura. At times I will ask Kinyajui to pack for me a cup of soup that
will be an accompaniment of a kilo of Njugu. A kilo of Njugu in one
sitting for a staunch church goer like myself who is nursing the damages
of prolonged dry spell is enough to keep him awake whole night. This
habit has turned me into our plots watchman. I will ones in a while rush
to the basement room which is still under construction to scare away
some dog that has been making a lot of noise. Apparently it is still
stuck inside the girlfriend while in the act of love making. And since I
am not interested in other parties’ marital affairs, I will let them
be. Besides, I shouldn’t put asunder what God has put together. On my
way back I will stumble on my neighbours stove which she has thrown out
after it burst on her while on her third hour of boiling the Luhya
mboga.
In room 13 a man is getting a thorough ass whipping from the wife for drinking their son’s milk. The previous day he had been dragged from Gacwiri gardens to explain why a thong lace was in his pocket. The wife had made the discovery while disposing some trouser he had seriously pooped on. He has a habit of turning his trousers into a toilet. He poops on it and flashes the shit with a brown concentrate of his short call any time he is drunk.
At door 15, I hear some college girls making out in the corridors. One of them has exiled the rest. On such occasions the occupants of the room will be making loud noises that you would think ones internal organs are being sucked out. Not even the booming hip hops will subside the squeaking of their bed. Am planning to launch an official complaint to the landlady on this matter. Sitasimama maovu yakitawala. I have a history of standing against immorality. In campus for example, my roommate brought the girlfriend along expecting that I would excuse them for a conjugal moment. I instead engaged them in an in-depth bible study session. He left the room for me for the rest of the semester. I later gave that as a testimony during our class fellowship on how I overcame Satan. My good act was rewarded by getting a new roommate who would exile me with the smell of Omena at 2.00 am. But that is in the past. Yaliyo ndwele sipite. Ama namna gani?
On this day a special sitting has been called upon between Pato and Jeremy. Jeremy works as watchman at ILRI and Pato is a professional painter. Pato stays at room 17. I have never seen his girlfriend(s) but I ones in while hear feminine convos at his place. They don’t last for long before I hear some mourns. Pato thinks he has a good taste in music which the whole floor should share in. He plays the vulgar Mike Rua Mugithi, which puritans like myself may describe as ungodly, with the volume very high. Jeremy is his immediate neighbour. He is a staunch member of Dini ya Msambwa Kawangware branch. I have seen him on Sundays with a turban and a cross bigger than that of the Pope leading a caravan of drum beating congregation in luhya songs. He seems to have perfected the art of procreation. The other day his 8th born son knocked at my place with a contribution card for a fundraiser to have his two smaller siblings treated for digestisis. His wife is a soft spoken lady and at times does laundry for members of our plot apart from myself. I wouldn’t have her touch my clothes from that time she cleaned my duvet and it came back hairy and with maps drawn on it.
Jeremy wants to have a man to man talk with his neighbour. According to his credible sources Pato has been invading his territories while he is on duty calls at ILRI. Not less than two times, according to him, his wife has mistakenly called out Patos name during coitus. Last weekend for example, when Jeremy had requested leave to actively participate in looking for their 11th born who they intend to name after Governor Awiti, his wife narrated one of her Pato encounters during her sleep talks. And most importantly, his wife doesn’t look sexually deprived or even complain when Jeremy goes for a two months sexual break to cleansen himself in readiness to partake the table of the Lord during the Passover. He can’t understand why Pato would be working in cohort with his wife to cheat on him. At least he knows it’s not to hurt him. Truth is, you are yet to meet a man who cheated with the sole intent of hurting. It just doesn’t figure at all. Cheating is always out of a need to satisfy a certain need – either emotional, sexual or physiological – that s/he has been deprived. Granted, some other circle-jerks may look at Pato and pass the death sentence, but not Jeremy.
“Nikuulizeko?” Jeremy will ask Pato in typical Luhya accent. “Huwa unararua hii maneno?”.
Am interrupted from following their convo by a caller on the radio. She has called to contribute on a late night program am following every Saturday. The kind of program that has to wait for the children to sleep for it to air. Marriage and relationship counselling is done on this program. The caller claims that since she divorced her husband two months ago, she is being attacked by demons. They will sometimes tickle her while asleep or when in public leaving her laughing uncontrollably. They will add salt to her guest’s food and hide her inner garments every morning. He who bargains the price of an underwear can as well walk without it. She is therefore urging her ex-husband to leave alone her lingerie since she has had enough of walking around without one. The counsellor advises her to book an appointment for deliverance in his church. My two neighbors are now laughing together.
“Hatuwes kosania pipi.” Jeremy says amid a heavy sound like a clap.
They have greeted each other like the gentlemen signature for a deal. Like the jubilee ‘tuko pamoja’ logo. Jeremy had pledged two roofing sheets towards construction of the church after their previous sanctuary was brought down by a flood of sewage. The deadline for submitting pledges is the next day and he has just spent his last 200 hundred on a packet of unga. They will therefore get in a gentlemen agreement. Pato who has just received his weekly pay from a building he was working on in Muthiga, should provide the two sheets. One as a fine for sleeping with Jeremy’s wife without his consent and another one for him to continue keeping his wife company while he is at work. A man who gives out his wife for the work of God deserves to be served at the high table when we get to heaven. WIRA WA NGOMA!!!
In room 13 a man is getting a thorough ass whipping from the wife for drinking their son’s milk. The previous day he had been dragged from Gacwiri gardens to explain why a thong lace was in his pocket. The wife had made the discovery while disposing some trouser he had seriously pooped on. He has a habit of turning his trousers into a toilet. He poops on it and flashes the shit with a brown concentrate of his short call any time he is drunk.
At door 15, I hear some college girls making out in the corridors. One of them has exiled the rest. On such occasions the occupants of the room will be making loud noises that you would think ones internal organs are being sucked out. Not even the booming hip hops will subside the squeaking of their bed. Am planning to launch an official complaint to the landlady on this matter. Sitasimama maovu yakitawala. I have a history of standing against immorality. In campus for example, my roommate brought the girlfriend along expecting that I would excuse them for a conjugal moment. I instead engaged them in an in-depth bible study session. He left the room for me for the rest of the semester. I later gave that as a testimony during our class fellowship on how I overcame Satan. My good act was rewarded by getting a new roommate who would exile me with the smell of Omena at 2.00 am. But that is in the past. Yaliyo ndwele sipite. Ama namna gani?
On this day a special sitting has been called upon between Pato and Jeremy. Jeremy works as watchman at ILRI and Pato is a professional painter. Pato stays at room 17. I have never seen his girlfriend(s) but I ones in while hear feminine convos at his place. They don’t last for long before I hear some mourns. Pato thinks he has a good taste in music which the whole floor should share in. He plays the vulgar Mike Rua Mugithi, which puritans like myself may describe as ungodly, with the volume very high. Jeremy is his immediate neighbour. He is a staunch member of Dini ya Msambwa Kawangware branch. I have seen him on Sundays with a turban and a cross bigger than that of the Pope leading a caravan of drum beating congregation in luhya songs. He seems to have perfected the art of procreation. The other day his 8th born son knocked at my place with a contribution card for a fundraiser to have his two smaller siblings treated for digestisis. His wife is a soft spoken lady and at times does laundry for members of our plot apart from myself. I wouldn’t have her touch my clothes from that time she cleaned my duvet and it came back hairy and with maps drawn on it.
Jeremy wants to have a man to man talk with his neighbour. According to his credible sources Pato has been invading his territories while he is on duty calls at ILRI. Not less than two times, according to him, his wife has mistakenly called out Patos name during coitus. Last weekend for example, when Jeremy had requested leave to actively participate in looking for their 11th born who they intend to name after Governor Awiti, his wife narrated one of her Pato encounters during her sleep talks. And most importantly, his wife doesn’t look sexually deprived or even complain when Jeremy goes for a two months sexual break to cleansen himself in readiness to partake the table of the Lord during the Passover. He can’t understand why Pato would be working in cohort with his wife to cheat on him. At least he knows it’s not to hurt him. Truth is, you are yet to meet a man who cheated with the sole intent of hurting. It just doesn’t figure at all. Cheating is always out of a need to satisfy a certain need – either emotional, sexual or physiological – that s/he has been deprived. Granted, some other circle-jerks may look at Pato and pass the death sentence, but not Jeremy.
“Nikuulizeko?” Jeremy will ask Pato in typical Luhya accent. “Huwa unararua hii maneno?”.
Am interrupted from following their convo by a caller on the radio. She has called to contribute on a late night program am following every Saturday. The kind of program that has to wait for the children to sleep for it to air. Marriage and relationship counselling is done on this program. The caller claims that since she divorced her husband two months ago, she is being attacked by demons. They will sometimes tickle her while asleep or when in public leaving her laughing uncontrollably. They will add salt to her guest’s food and hide her inner garments every morning. He who bargains the price of an underwear can as well walk without it. She is therefore urging her ex-husband to leave alone her lingerie since she has had enough of walking around without one. The counsellor advises her to book an appointment for deliverance in his church. My two neighbors are now laughing together.
“Hatuwes kosania pipi.” Jeremy says amid a heavy sound like a clap.
They have greeted each other like the gentlemen signature for a deal. Like the jubilee ‘tuko pamoja’ logo. Jeremy had pledged two roofing sheets towards construction of the church after their previous sanctuary was brought down by a flood of sewage. The deadline for submitting pledges is the next day and he has just spent his last 200 hundred on a packet of unga. They will therefore get in a gentlemen agreement. Pato who has just received his weekly pay from a building he was working on in Muthiga, should provide the two sheets. One as a fine for sleeping with Jeremy’s wife without his consent and another one for him to continue keeping his wife company while he is at work. A man who gives out his wife for the work of God deserves to be served at the high table when we get to heaven. WIRA WA NGOMA!!!
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