We all reach a stage where partying like rock stars and club hopping becomes a bit too much and we settle down to having a pint in a quiet place,preferably a short staggering distance from home or ideally,a place we are sure that a traffic cop cannot pull us over and make us take a sobriety test.And for most ladies,a place where we can go without getting all dressed up,many a times ,you will find me there in tees and worn off jeans. Once or twice,I have been there in my PJ’s ,why? Because I can and I don’t give a hoot.
Mine,is a quaint little place near home,nestled in the midst of Acacia trees.The ambiance is great if you are an outdoors kind of person.The service is terribly slow,a common trait I have come to associate with my side of woods.Slow service is one of the three reasons I always sit at the counter,the second reason being that I can watch sports better from that vantage point and thirdly, Men with hidden agendas and young-lings tend to keep away from ladies sitting at the counter and that suits me just fine.
With time,four years to be precise, I got to know the usual members of the [I]round table[/I]- that's what we call our counter,though in the real sense it is oval shaped-and in a funny way,these ladies (we are three) and gents have become a sort of family away from family. Secrets are shared here,deals are made ,conspiracies are discussed and political arguments do tend to go overboard once in awhile causing a bit of fracas between the "members".
One evening , Bernard, A member came in fuming,he rudely hustled the bartender to give him his usual poison,gin, and he gulped the first shot at once. Kimweli, another member asked him what was wrong. The dude looks at us and says-[I] "Aki nyinyi wanawake!".[/I]The men share a knowing grin while we get into defense mode. After a few more shots of gin,Ben loosens up a bit and tells us his "masaibus"
Ben and his wife had been together for two years and for all we knew he was a happily married man. He always bragged how his sexual prowess netted him this fine dame but as it is in most cases,we all suspected it was all about finances(especially since the guy has a keg pot...huge one where a six pack should be). He is 45 years and the lass is 24. A few weeks earlier he had noticed a change in the wife, passion had dwindled which made him suspect someone was dicking his wife while he was at work. On this particular day,he decided to go back to his home at around 10 a.m to find out whether his fears were unfounded. He drove into the estate and found a Prado parked on the driveway by his wall.He creeped in to the compound and peeped on the window and saw the wife with another man doing the deed in the sitting room. Temporary insanity made him walk back to his car and take a heavy wrench from his toolbox and break the headlights on the prado then he went and sat on his car bonnet ,waiting to see who will come out of his house since the prado's alarm was screaming. A few moments later a lad got out of the gate hurriedly and jumped on a raleigh(black mamba)bike which was lying in the hedges further up and hastily cycled away leaving poor Ben gaping with astonishment,he did not expect to find out that a worker from a nearby flower farm was the one screwing his wife.The neighbor from the opposite house came out with his guests and that explained why a car was parked on the driveway. In short,his day was terrible,he had to cough money to buy new headlights for the not so amused owner.
At this point of the story we were all trying to hold back our laughter with little success and from that day on Ben nearly runs off any cyclist he meets on the road.
Bernard cannot run to save his own life,plus he was in shock because he could not believe a casual laborer was nyanduaing his goodies.When it sunk in the guy had already fled.
By the way, why is it that when women cheat they usually downgrade? Gardeners, watchies, very inconspicuous lads or is that part of the covering tracks thing?
:D:D reminds me of a neighbor, Baba Shiko, he got married late. Ended up marrying his brother’s employee. A fine little mama. So at one point, there were construction workers at a site near his house. As you you know niggas are crude, they used to cat-call her. But I do not blame them, I would too had I not known she was his wife. The guy got the memo, went to the local AP station and got two karaus. They went and waited next to the site, the bait went out and they fell into the trap, cat-calling and shit. Ndani wakawekwa.
That was rather uncalled for. Men will always be men. Remember the old adage about a man who plants maize by the road side. But women crave attention if a woman decides she does not entertain the catcalls guys usually get the memo pretty fast.