Sometimes I really wish I had actually not quit my job and joined the Hustler’s republic. Business transactions can get a bit tricky for my species sometimes.
Let's take for instance today, a Saturday. A day of rest and relaxation . I get a call at 10 a.m from Kemboi. Kemboi works in one branch of the government and a few months back he got a windfall and the idiot has no idea what he wants to do with the tidy sum.
"Mrembo! Kuja unipeleke kuona hile Mali. " He says ,his tribal accent pronounced, making me smile.
“Chamgee ,my fren! Uko sehemu gani?” I merrily reply.
He gives me the coordinates, a pub located somewhere near Isinya. I check my wardrobe and chose a yellow sundress. The highland nilotes like brown so I unhook my brown chaget and place it on the bed alongside the yellow dress. Meh! They actually match and if they don't well...ferk it!The client is king right? ( You should see what I wear when meeting Kambas.tihihihi)
Quick shower then I log on to the taxify app and order one,I am not burning fuel to show a prospective client property located deep in the heart of masai land.The driver’s ETA is 5 mins. Enough time for me to get ready …
Soon the taxi is here.I kiss my Rugrats and wish them a good day,Pat my dog and get to the cab. My driver keys in the coordinates and we are off.
520 kshs later I am at the pub and I see Kemboi’s double cab being washed at the pub’s carwash.
Idiot. I think to myself, we are going to a dusty place.
I get in the pub and locate Kemboi.He is in a group of other aged pot bellied men.The table is littered with bottles of Guiness and Konyagis…
oh boy, it’s going to be one of those meetings.
I walk up to the crowd and greet them humbly.
“Yamune” I humbly greet them with a curtsy. Kemboi gets up and gives me a possessive hug.
"Here is my Pseudo!" His loud inebriated voice booms. He calls the waitress and orders her to bring another chair and soon I am sitted next to him. The waitress asks me what’s my poison and I opt for my Heinekens.
“Hio haijafika bado.” She replies.
Makes sense , it’s 11a.m.
“Nipe white cap light baridi basi.”.Ten minutes later (in a basically empty pub) my two cold drinks arrive. I don’t mind. I am used to slow service.
Back to the table. I exchange pleasantries and soon the conversation goes to politics. Kemboi places a hand on the back on my chair and speaks authoritatively about Kalenjin politics. How I wish he could link me up with baba Abby, f**k corruption.
The men continue drinking their Konyagis and Guinness I am already sure we will not be sight seeing today.
Kemboi’s empties his drink and I refill it for him everytime.He grins, the men smile and ogle at my wolf pendant. Men…
I sip my beer and catch snippets of the conversation.Ofcourse they have been speaking in their mother tongue all along. I can only stare and smile and respond when one of them has the decency of addressing me in Swanglish. I don’t mind. I got to focus on the bigger picture.
I get lost in my thoughts momentarily. I can’t browse on my phone. I consider that to be rude behavior when sitting in a table of ‘respectable’ men but I really wish I can log into ktalk and see what’s going on and even more I wish I could check whether bae has sent me his goofy messages on WhatsApp …sigh.
Time lapses, the gent on my left who was mixing Konyagi and Guiness starts a side conversation with me.“You look familiar”.…He says. Alcohol is a bitch ,I think as I smile and look at him.
“Have we met in Moiben?” He asks…
I shake my head.
He insists and places his grubby hand on my thigh. I brush it off.
“Jinga”…he mumbles. Kemboi is lost in conversation and does not hear his friend grumbling.
I look at the idiot dead in the eye and asks him softly to repeat his statement.
"Mutyo" he apologizes.
A few minutes later the same incidence happens. I tell him I have no idea where Moiben is. A white lie. I Know Uasin Gishu county very well.
He calls me a fool again and apologizes.I smile and ask him to shove it. I guess he is not as drunk as I thought because he loudly shouts.
"Ukipendwa pendeka! Fuckin! Mapenzi ni suruari.
The conversation halts. Kemboi responds curtly. I down my remaining beer and announce my leave. They protest. I tell them I have a meeting at 4pm but I had fun and it was a pleasure meeting all if them. I get up and Kemboi walks me out and apologizes. He suggests we go later but I politely decline. We can do it another time when he is sober.
“Achamin” he mumbles as our handshake lingers.
I laugh lightly and tell him that’s alcospeak but I grimace inwards and remember how that simple word used to make me happy once upon a time when I loved one of his people.
He Pats his coat pocket and I know he wants to Uberize me. I decline and prod him to join his friends and he promises to make it up to me.
Damn right you will…
I walk away and take a tuktuk passing by and head home. Yep…hustling is a bitch for a pinkie sometimes.
