The year is 1999…I had just completed high school and was just at our rural home waiting to join campus in 2001 (BTW why did we have to wait for close to two years to join uni?). One of our jirani decided to hire me and do some coaching to his daughter who was in form 2 then (hehehe…sema opportunity kupatikana…mshande ya 2k and and a chance to taste the honey).
Every weekday evening I would be at this home at exactly 8pm, do some coaching and leave at around 11pm. Those who were born in the village would relate when I say the old folks would be in bed by 10pm;there was no Elec then.
After a week of coaching, I started to borrow things and was surprised this young girl was waiting for such an opportunity. But, the problem was this girl would never visit me kejani…so we hatched a plan; a risky one but it was worth the risk…Villagers, this was the plan: I would say kwaheri as usual at the end of the coaching session, but instead of leaving, I would tip toe to her bedroom since the parents were usually fast asleep by that time. Once nimekamua, I would now carry her in my arms (she was 1gb) and walk with her to the door, she unlatches the door and walk carrying her a few meters before releasing her and she would pretend she had gone out to attend to a call of nature (back in the village, we just answer short calls a few meters from the house)
Day one, everything went as planned…this was the tightest p I had ever tasted…this continued for a few days. One day on our way out, I stepped on their malnourished dog…sema mbwa kubweka…the old Mzee was like, “Wangari nikii murekana na ngui?”(“Wangari, why are u stepping on the dog?”). Ladies n gentleman, I freezed, released the 1gb and tip toed to my usual panya route and that was the end of game. I never cared to ask what she told the old Mzee.
I met Wangari recently with two lovely kids and her husband and it rekindled some memories…
Some of you talk like we all went to campus, I did not.
The first time I heard of the “box” was where those uni girls stayed on Statehouse Road, and they were way out my reach. But these days hata Koinange Street you find them and landloards can now pick and choose which campo girl to treat for the weekend. Kweli times have changed.
Sawa safi kabisa. Village stories have a lot . I once said my hekaya how I got busted with my own mum and my ladies aunt kwa my room, all happening in the villages . Village stories are very intriguing
