Sunday, April 19, 2009

Sex And The Village

Everybody has a special place of disguised blessings, unforgettable romances, weary trials and precious memories. For me, that happens to be the village. And that is where I went to pitch last weekend after it occurred to me that the Mayor of Nairobi doesn’t even know my name!

I ran into Wangila just as I made the turning into a pool of stagnant water right in the smack of the road. The thing about the village is that everybody’s name has a meaning. Wangila for instance means one who was conceived by the roadside. That might explain this dent on the road that was now full of water.

‘Kiddo!’ he shouted. ‘Long time, bwana! You vanished like a car with Track-It’

I rolled down the window. I had to talk to him. What if my car got stuck in the mini-pool? There were two nick names for Wangila: Joe Black and Gish. The former for his Sudanese like skin and the latter merely a pet name.

‘Gish! You aren’t looking too bad,’ I fibbed. With good reason. Courtesy of my memory bank, peeps always wore their best threads only on Sunday, so the tattered clad could be excused.

‘It is because I have three!’ he replied with a hearty laughter.

‘Three kids?’

Another laughter as he gripped my hand and pinched my cheek. ‘You are still a funny man! Three kids! He he. Three wives man.’

Wangila is 30. That makes it one wife for each decade he has lived. I am with Hillary on this. It really takes a village!

Later that evening two things occurred to me. All the three were pregnant at the same time. Knowing that Wangila was very vocal in his support for PNU during the last election, this was proof once again that kazi inaendelea!

The other thing that occurred to me was that his third wife was Jackie, a girl I had been quite fond off. She had made the words ‘I forgot’ very famous when back in the days, I was schooling in an all girls school in this village. My parents had been requested by the Headmistress of the all girls school to allow me learn in the all girls school so that the grades of the school could improve. Being the only boy in a class of eighty girls was something I could deal with.

But Truphena Hill, our class teacher, seemed to forget my gender and would ask all the girls each morning to lift up their skirts so she could check who wasn’t wearing panties. Two whole minutes of bliss! Jackie was always caught having gone commando and would then utter the words ‘I forgot’.

I bought her a pair as a birthday present when we were in our teenhood. It was more a joke than intent. But we were close that she even once whispered in my ear: ‘Am not wearing any’ after I had slipped a note to her in church with the words: Gravity. It makes panties fall off.

She also disliked Wangila. And now she was married to him! He insisted we had to go cut a drink at a pub. If you want beer in the village, you needn’t go far. There is a pub called Simbi Bar. Simbi means near.

On our way, we met the local tailor who insisted I should order a suit from him. He is so accurate in cutting up pieces of cloth, that he doubles up as the village circumciser.

‘Hey, isn’t that the dude who owns the Bata franchise shop?’ I asked Wangila as I saw someone in a corner drinking in solitude.

Wangila raised his eyebrow and nodded as if we were in Code Speak.

‘See that bandaged hand? He was caught with someone’s wife in bed. The man had been tipped about the wife’s infidelity and laid a trap for him. When they were in the act, the husband stormed in with a supporting cast!’

This wasn’t good.

‘He was stark naked. He was given two choices. Do we chop off your manhood or do we chop off your finger?’

‘No!’ I said.

‘Yes!’ he replied. ‘He chose the finger!’

‘I wonder why?’ I mused. Sipped my beer. ‘Perhaps he was only fingering her’.

‘Love rectangle, my friend from the Big City,’ Wangila said after his laughter diminished.

Perhaps this was why Wangila made the decision to have his rectangle in marital bliss. I also learnt that Wangila wasn’t formally working. No, no, he hadn’t turned from ‘Joe Black’ to ‘Joe Bless’. He provides bicycle transport popularly known as boda boda. From what I hear, it leads to quick impotence. Small price to pay for having three wives.





‘So Gish. Three wives all pregnant at once. Isn’t that illogical?’ I asked. I mean the dimwit in me would imagine that spacing out pregnancies ensures you are sexually active through out the year. Isn’t that a simple obviousism?

‘Cost sharing my friend’, he says, but am still not convinced about this nappy sharing. And the three are all due in December. ‘No Maternity Ward and all that modern jazz. After all I was born by the roadside. My second wife is a midwife.’

Oh. So his name means ‘born’ not ‘conceived’. I am thoroughly ashamed at my thoughts. Considering I resist asking ‘Your last wife. Does she wear panties?!’

He is actually thinking cost. Hmm. They say 2007 was a horrible year for the Prime Minister’s or ‘annus horribilis’. If those three wives each give birth to triplets, Wangila will close an annus as horribilis as the Prime Minister’s.

We pub crawl to another bar called Pewama Bar. My mind is thinking ‘pewa’ is Swahili but it’s is only called this because the owner is called Petro Wafula Masika. If Gavin Joseph Bell knew about this, Kengeles would be Gajobe rather than the translation. Same reason teacher Truphena refused to call herself Mrs. Sikulu (which means hill) when she got married and translated her name to Mrs. Hill.

At Pewama, we encounter a chap called, you know, Chap. He is a real dipsomaniac and is already singing. When he sees me, he lights up and adds an octave to his song. His expected reward was a beer but I demur.

‘Our Kid! Every day we have to be thankful. And today I am thankful that you will never be my MP. You are so mean!!!’

Wangila isn’t happy and he swings his glass at Chap. Beer splashes over Chap. Chap leaves. I am informed that he has two wives. But that they were both playing him. They would pretend to go to the posho mill but instead end up in some dingy lodgings with their men.

Recently, one of those men was stood up and he rode his motor bike to Chap’s home. He met Chap and presuming that Chap was a hired help, he asked him if he could go and call the woman he was interested in.

‘That is crazy!’ I utter in utter shock. ‘So what did Chap do?’

Wangila looks at me and says. ‘Get me another beer!’

Turns out Chap went to get a machete instead; the philanderer narrowly cheated death as Chap wasn’t the best shot in the village; and the motor bike zoomed off.

From a distance, I see a fine woman approach.

‘Who is that?’ I ask.

‘Wait. Let her pass by first,’ Wangila answers. ‘I can never tell a woman from her front.’

And that is not said under the influence.

‘That is Kisima’, he continues. I open my arms to gesticulate a request for explanation and he informs me that she was called that because she is the first woman in the village to fornicate in church.

‘Fornicate in church?’ I whistle.

‘Yes’, he replies. ‘She kissed the groom. In front of her parents! And her in laws. On her wedding day.’

Scandalous. Just like me who went straight from a High School to a Law School, she must have gone straight from an in law to an outlaw. Kisima means well. Why is she called Kisima, you ask. Her husband reported that she wasn’t a virgin on the wedding night and people immediately coined her nickname. Well well well.

I would have thought Kisima is a corruption of ‘Kiss me.’ The church had since banned the ‘You may kiss the bride’ line from its weddings.

I look closely at Kisima. I remember her! She once went out with an altar boy who served Mass with me. He was the crooked type. He once drank half the church wine and filled the bottle with water. In Biblical terms, it was equivalent to the turning of wine into water!

We call for our bill. I am jolted when the barmaid comes over and Wangila slips his hands under her skirt. She doesn’t offer any protest. I have seen enough. He has three pregnant wives and he is feeling a barmaid?

It is time to leave and I give Wangila a ride. He often takes people for a ride but I reckon he needs the break tonight. After all he is staggering. When we get to one of his houses, he is asleep. I knock and Jackie opens the door.

‘I forgot’, I begin and pause and we both laugh, ‘to bring him home earlier’.

‘It’s okay Kid. They say better late than…’ she also pauses and points at her belly ‘… pregnant.’

‘I always thought you will marry a Scotsman,’ I say and she laughs.

Wangila slumps on the couch.

‘I wish I had,’ she says. There is a tinge of regret in her voice. ‘I wish I had,’ she repeats herself in a whisper as she looks at Wangila. His snore is loud.

‘Good night,’ I say and start to leave.

‘Good night?’ she asks. ‘I haven’t had any good night since…’

‘Since?’

‘Good night’ she replies and smiles. ‘Good night Our Kid,’ she adds and closes the door.

36 comments:

Mo said...

I like how you write; it's a series of lateral thoughts and sub-plots and quite unlike the 'linear writing' of most bloggers out there. I find myself lost every now and then but I enjoy the 'journey' of finding my way back.

In a nutshell, I'm Mo Maalim and I approve this blog post. :D (a little bit of McCain-pisstaking there for the less politically-savvy)

Mama Shujaa said...

I am in full agreement with the previous commenter. You are a gifted writer. I look forward to more, please!!!

Blog said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
mboiz said...

LMFAO, your village has crazy characters, esp Wangila! hilarious post and well written...keep up!!

KK said...

LOL! Please explain the Kisima translating to not being a virgin on the wedding night part.
BTW... WHat kind of lawyer are you? I might be interested in retaining your services.

Mo said...

As excellent a lawyer as you may be, I hope to never need your services. *knocks on wood*

Our Kid said...

@ Mo... I think the best McCain piss taking was calling people 'my friends.' Those ads bombed, eh!

@ Mama Shujaa... more, please? This isn't a Royco meal. Just kidding.

@ Blog.. uh oh. Now where did that go.

@ Mboiz... there must be something in the water in that village!

@ KK... I should ask Wangila about the Kisima thingy. He probably thought she was as deep as a well.

As for the lawyer thing, am at your service.

@ Mo... True. But lawyers do other things other than just criminal law, you know.

Mo said...

I'm well aware of that but, if memory serves me right, you once mentioned you were a divorce lawyer.

Enough said!

bs said...

It must have been a huge burden strutting along the school's corridors knowing that the school's good grades rested upon you. No wonder there was a daily 'flashing' session to keep you motivated. Am so traumatized on behalf of those girls, especially 'i forgot'. ms truphena hill sounds like a freak who was enjoying the show as much as you.

PEWAMA- i thought only kyuks were into that kind of narcissistic nomenclature.

I risk sounding like a badly scratched CD, but you write beautifully.

a little birdie whispered about touting & advertising on blogs:)

bomseh said...

Ati Wangila's second wife is a midwife?but of course. Guy you got jokes.

Mama said...

I agree with the previous commentators, I absolutely love your writing! Our Kid, you should really consider writing for money seriously.

SG said...

When Whispers died I wondered where we'd get a Sunday dose of laughter. Writing may be different but everytime I come here u leave in the same state Whispers used to. This was waaay too hilarious.

val said...

You've just reminded me why I love going back to the village...drama and more drama. I've just remembered a certain holiday :)

Nice post!

Our Kid said...

@ Mo... Yes. Divorce Law is exciting.

@ bs... you know the funny thing is that I had the hots for Madam Truphena Hill herself. She was a hottie.

@ Bomseh... You spotted that 'second wife was midwife' one! You are good!

@ Mama... I thought money is the root of all evil.

@ SG... Believe it or not, I used to write a column called Whispers Junior for my high school.

@ Val.. Please spill the beans about the holiday!

Loco said...

Aiaiai (It took me till now to catch my breath and I read this just after you'd posted) I take it back, I take it back, now I'm REALLY sure I don't want to know what goes on up there! LOL!!

Loco said...

Ohhh, oops I forgot *chuckle*, so that's how it must have felt for that guy who was in our class (Just like you we had one guy in our entire girl's school, every holiday though, it was high school) :-D Great read.

Darius Stone said...

Our kid, props to you sana for some quality writing...I thoroughly enjoyed myself and you've taken me back sana....

I can see how you'd get away with being a good lawyer....You should seriously consider continuing to write columns.

Darius Stone said...

Our Kid...

Hope you don't mind but some chain reaction thing has got me tagging you here (that's if you haven't been in the first place).

Digzer said...

You are the most entertaining blogger ever! Hats off!

(I'm only now getting mid-wife. Too good)

pink m said...

I have tagged you too Our Kid. Head on to mine's and see.

Mountainous said...

Hillarious post. yeah village life is just the best where everyone knows everyone and their dirty little secrets and their naughty past.

Cee said...

Our Kid your blog is one place that makes my day any day....wonderful posts and I agree with the first comment...your are a great writter

KK said...

Good.... Now, can I tag my lawyer or would that be messing with the client lawyer privilege? Tag.

nikolas said...

this could actually be a script! it is brilliant!

Mama said...

Our Kid consider yourself served...

boyfulani said...

our kid.
i love the flow, subplots and all.

There are enthusiastic amateurs. And there are writers.

You prove that.

Peter (Walkabout) Njenga said...

Our Kid, your blog is among the best.

Your writing is well above board and quite admirable.
Very hilarious posts, can't wait for the next one.

Keep up the good work!

Our Kid said...

@ All... Finally, I was cornered and I have had to blog about that tag called Honest Scrap.

Thanks for all your comments.

Anonymous said...

LOL B!!!

joyunspeakable said...

gosh Kid...I missed out on this one..You are terrible....I mean you remember some things like they happened yesterday...then you were the only boy in a girls class...? gosh? i now understand the post afer this

btw....i need a lawyer....

gladys said...

ur blog should come labelled with 'proceed with care' lol!
my jaws hurt from laughing

savvy said...

LMAO... I could not stop laughing while reading this.

I can't believe she used to 'forget' he he.. sounds like your village is one I'd like to visit.

Ngare said...

The only boy in an all girls school? Damn! Wernt you lucky? Super post!! You can make serious chums from writing stuff i bet!

Anonymous said...

I know a jackie who also doesnt wear panties, wonder what her reason is?

Angie said...

yaani i have laughed till i dropped. really really funny stuff. And you are very very talented. Quite a rare gift :)

Kollo Nabiswa said...

Wangila.... He was BORN by the roadside...not CONCEIVED. Few people noticed that!