Sometime back, i lived on the Kaaya chonjo side of the greater Tudor Locale. Just near that mega church…winners…hapo karibu. Lakini nili gura…kugura means kuhama for all you Nairobians. I shifted from that house prematurely… Let me tell u why…
I lived in a one bedroom / bedsitter crossbreed…the house had two main rooms…living rooom with a sink cum cooking area and the bedroom…part of the bedroom had been hived off to make a bathroom. Both the bedroom and bathroom doors were side by side and both opened into the living room. Meaning, wherever u were in the living room, you were in full sight of the loo and bed chambers. Thats the house. Let me tell u about me.
Am an introvert and i live alone…my family is mostly in the Diaspora. Being an introvert, living alone…means i hardly know who my neighbour are…dont get me wrong…am very social. But i hate talking to strangers…and neighbours. I say hi, and i answer hi to a hi. Period. Luckily, my neibours were mostly young men and women who , like me kept to themselves. Mostly am in house, movie, ama a good book, ama my guitar or the keyboard ama a lovely lass chuckling sheepishly to some silly remarks. Besides an occasional momo, i hadly have any visitors…infact none. I live alone and i cherish my loneliness. Now, yo why i shifted.
Living alone in a house why hardly any visitors come, comes with its advantages…like i am mostly in boxers only when its hot, a random wood is never hidden…meaning i will be at the stove cooking tea while dck is pointing to the true north and i cany care less…except on that occasion when i inadvertently switched on the oven and its dck that got the heat…u know. I will eat off the sufuria without a care, and when mama pimas madodo are not well cooked, i have been known to let loose a ratchet fart that closely march a very close bodaboda. I also scratch them jewels by the minute and scratch Mkarara by the hour. But none of that even comes close to the horor that befell me that one miserable godforsaken sunday afternoon.
See, i had spent the whole morning post poning a shower until kindu four when i decided i was too stinky to watch any more Tom and Jerry…i love cartoons. So i just rose up, left the movie running, dropped tge boxer and vest where i stood and strode into the bathroom for a shower. Instict told me to slightly close the door. I hardly ever did anyway.
So i worked the shower and went under for a wash. Got it well under way…lather all over why standing away from the jetty. Then went under once more. I was almost near to rinse the Mkalala, which i always do last, when i heard several tiny footsteps in the living room. The sub hover was high enough coz i love my movies loud…but ovee the din i could barely make out the voices of three kids in the living room. I went into a panic mode.
I switched off the shower, opened the door a crack, and behold, three tiny three year olds…two boys and a gal…with pu**y cat hair and shiet…each nestled on the Minjilis , eyes fixed on the tv, in various stages of mirth for the Tom and Jerry antics.
Up to now, you my friends, have no idea that, my towel and washed boxers are hang to dry…in the bedroom…on a piece of nylon running from the bedroom door frame to the wardrobe. Meaning, in the bathroom, i only have the washing thingie…we call it Kimuratina in greek. A piece of plant thingie that acts a sponge while bathing. Only that. Nothing else resembling cloth in that bathroom. So i was trapped. Naked in the bathroom, with three kids, strangers…in the living room…
My first thought was to wait it out…thinking the kids would leave…they didnt…infact, i watched in horror as they discoverd my biscuit container…a plastic see through jar with a lid…they plied it open, and the little thieves invaded my Digestive without a care.
My next option was to chase them away…my third shout caught the girl…little bitch…she realised there was someone in the house…in the bathroom…and she came calling…“Anko, anko…ntaka majiiii”…chesos. I bolted the bathroom door from inside. I started threatening them… But they didnt budge. The volume of the Ampex was wayy too high for them.
My next and last option was to atract the neighbours somehow. After many tries, i managed to rip off the ceiling while standing on the wash hand basin, and started beating on the mabati roof. Shortly, i heard voices and knocks…my third door neighbour , a student at TUM…came in , lowerd the Ampex, i gave her an ear full…she almost convulsed in laughter as she shooed the brats away…then i made the one step to my towel…and to freedom…
The moral of the story is…The Monkey trader will be in a simmilar situation in Aug next year…abebe towel…