‘I wonder how she would look naked’ was the first thought that crossed my mind when I first set my eyes on her. She had just dropped her cell-phone and she bend over hurriedly to pick it leaving my innocent eyes with no choice but to look at her heart shaped derriere.
If they say men think 50,000 thoughts a day, there was no way any of the other 49,999 thoughts would top the thought that I just had after that incident in the hotel restaurant. Some women put the danger in the word dangerous.
I was in Kisumu for a few days and was seething at the treatment I had received during the last three hours. The plane that I had booked had tried to bump me off after some more prominent Kenyans felt they deserved to be on the plane as they were expected by their constituents during the funeral rituals that they seemingly must attend each weekend.
No perfect imagery was necessary for the telling fact that the people we elected are more prominent when they come to bury us. There must be something we aren’t doing right!
I had checked into the hotel only to learn that they weren’t spared the electricity rationing that was still ongoing in this land. My laptop battery was as flat as
my intern’s chest it gets and that meant that any last minute additions to my pilot script of the TV series were going to be on hold.
I had gone over to the restaurant and was sipping the rather horrid tasting strawberry iced tea on the account of the hot sun and engaging in flirtexting when my activity was interrupted by the curvaceous work-of-art woman. I wished my textual conversation had such an effect on a woman; making her phone drop in shock.
As she got back into a homo-erectus position, she, who had just been in a hum-dinger position glanced around with a half-smile playing on her face. If those Kenya Power and Lighting Company people had an iota of seriousness, they would tap all that brightness from that smile and generate enough electricity to make me charge my battery.
She walked over to the counter at the entry of the restaurant, let a few words elope from her mouth to the waiters ear -and only the waiters ear- and then pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and handed the piece of paper to the waiter. She pointed at her glittery watch and then she caused her hips to sashay out.
Interesting. There was need to waste a few more thoughts about the contents of the piece of paper but the iced tea tasted even worse and I decided to push it away. There was a newspaper at the table and I decided to while away my non-electric time.
Unfortunately, the newspapers continue to carry the same inane stories about the political circus.
‘What sort of name is Smokin?’ I thought to myself as the left side of my brain went: Guess the Kenya Anti Corruption Commission is now a ‘No Smokin Zone’!
I may have been engrossed in one or two more stories because when I looked up, there seemed to be some darkness creeping into the room. I tossed the newspaper back and it went over the table and landed at the feet of some guy who was walking in.
‘Hii stima inarudi saa ngapi!’ he thundered at the counter in quite an animated voice.
I had been asking myself the same question and I thought it wise to voice that fact.
“Alloys,” he said and offered his hand.
I often don’t press the flesh because it it so politician-like but in this case, I thought about the hand sanitizer up in the room and I said, what the heck. I also introduced myself.
“Good to meet you brother,” he said and shouted at the waiter to come over. Before long, some beer bottles introduced themselves to our table.
Before much longer, politics wormed its way into the conversation. Alloys was complaining how the crass ‘political class’ was playing with our lives. Apparently, he informed me that there was no consensus on the constitution that was being written.
“Recently, the Experts were at the Coast with political parties and they couldn’t even agree on whether Miguna and Kivutha should be part of the process. Who are those two anyways?”
“They are the Principal’s Advisers on Constitutional Affairs!” I said.
Alloys didn’t even miss a beat.
“All the affairs that I have had are constitutional!”
Inevitably, the conversation entered the sphere of legality or otherwise of affairs. Alloys said that he was married but he was in town to spend time with a girlfriend. He let out a rich laugh and ordered another beer.
“It doesn’t bother you?” I asked.
You could discern that he was least bothered. And he went on to boast how he could never live in a country like Uganda that had tried to tinker with laws forbidding adultery.
“When I was in the States, I tried out the services offered under the website Ashley Madison. That kind of an open society pleases me! But it was expensive!”
I had come across the website after reading an Intellectual Property Law magazine that discussed their slogan: LIFE IS SHORT. HAVE AN AFFAIR.
Hmmm. Hmmm? Hmmm.
This was one to keep. I don’t know how to say this in a PC kind of way, but Alloys had the words ‘Potential Client’ written all over him. What next? Life is short, kill your rich dad?
“Auma is the name of the woman that I came here to see,” he said. “Well, not really to see, but to... you know…”
Life is short. Finish your sentences.
“I met her at a seminar,” he continued. “It was perhaps purely accidental but those who say a human can visually undress another and thereby make imaginary love at first sight were onto something that only Wet Wet Wet could surmise. I felt in my fingers, felt it in my toes and if she hadn’t quickly looked up, the feeling in my shorts would have grown”.
Tell me about it. I almost had one of those when I got where we were, I silently thought.
“It is…” I started but was brought to a halt when the lights came back on and there was a collective yelp from everybody in the place.
“My brother,” Alloys said. “This is going to be a lovely night. You know, in my community, you don’t eat in the dark. If you know what I mean!” and he laughed.
“I think I should get going so that I can charge my laptop,” I told him. I also really just wanted to get out of the scenery and take a shower.
“Hey Waiter!” Alloys shouted. “Bring me the room keys from the reception!”
The waiter asked him what room number he was booked into and he said it was 409.
Strange, I was in 410.
“Did you say 409?” the waiter asked. “I think there is a lady who left a message for you at the Counter”.
Strange, I saw a lady leave a message at the counter.
“And you idiots didn’t tell me!” Alloys frowned and asked for his message to be brought. His face looked mid thirtyish and he had some furrows across his forehead that multiplied when he frowned.
The frown dissolved into a smile as he read the message.
“She was here!” he announced and frantically reached for his cell phone. There was boyish excitement as he informed the party who picked the phone on the other end that he was at the hotel. “OK, I will see you shortly.”
Strange, some people call me OK.
We walked up to the rooms and I wished him a shagadelic night.
I had barely opened my suitcase when I heard a knock at the door.
I hadn’t ordered any room service. But that puzzle was to end as soon as opened the door to find Alloys standing there.
“Hey brother… do you have some merchandise?” he asked me.
“I mean, condoms. I don’t want to rush to the supermarket now! You never know, these fellows could have stocked the Hot Contempo range!”
I didn’t have any merchandise.
“Oh damn”, he said and threw his hands in the air. “I have to go!”
I plugged the laptop and switched on the television and started channel surfing. There were the usual boring stories on the NEWS and a few uninteresting series going on. My new TV series had to be better than these series, Thought Number 49,800 for the day or somewhere close registered on my mind.
I then dialed for room service and placed my order after I finished my shower.
I may have dozed off because the next thing I heard was pounding on my door.
“Heeey,” I remarked and went over to open the door with my lips ready to utter the words: ‘Why did it take you so long’ to the Room Service chap.
Only it was not Room Service. It was Alloys! Naked! Well, almost naked, since he was wearing merchandise.
“Help me, please” he said. “Auma… she is not breathing!”
I followed him to his room and there lying naked on the bed was the same woman I had seen in the restaurant. Boy oh boy. Turned out that she had started breathing fast as Alloys touched and caressed her and he thought it was the usual excitement associated with love-making but when she went quiet then limp, it occurred to him that she was having some seizure. It was as if the lady of our dreams had misread the tagline to LIFE IS SHORT. HAVE AN ATTACK.
A panic-stricken Alloys had tried to revive her before running out to call for help.
It is a pity. Nobody teaches us what to do when someone on top of or under you suffers an epileptic fit or asthmatic attack.
It was also a lesson for me. Be careful what you wish for!