Mtazamaji mpendwa: I need change

“Mtazamaji mpendwa, ningetaka tuombe upate kubarikiwa leo hii” a raspy voice boomed out of my beat up 14 inch JVC.

It was yet another Sunday and I had nothing to show for the week other than a pretty nasty hangover. My old JVC had seen better days and if things were looking up then so are rozay’s boobs! Things like a remote were a myth. I’d have better chance of winning a trip to London distilleries down at Industrial area by buying their famous ‘naps’ or as papa julu would call it ‘Black and yellow’ than I had of finding a remote for this archaic machine.

“Funga macho tuombe” the voice continued.
Too lazy to get up to change the damn thing myself I resorted to hearing what this guy had to say. No, I did not close my eyes. I mean what is the point when it is a television program. Furthermore, there was a promotion that was running where a few 32 inchers were up for grabs every fort night I could not risk closing my eyes and missing my name scroll smoothly across the small screen. Coming to think of it maybe closing my eyes would have led to a blessing that won me the television but it’s too late now.
Guilt begun to creep up on me and I had this feeling like someone was watching. How ironic right? I tried to close my eyes for some brief seconds just to shake the feeling off but as soon as my eye lids parted the guy on the screen had his fingers stretched out pointing at me.

“Mlio na dhambi mtubu!” his voiced echoed across the room and resonated in my soul.
He was talking to me alright. But his eyes were closed so maybe he actually was pointing to the wrong person. C’mon guy open your eyes, you will see that I am definitely not a sinner. Maybe I drank too much last night and ended up kissing my friend’s girlfriend’s best friend. But is that a sin? No! The good book says nothing about a kiss. Maybe about the one that cost 30 pieces of silver, mine just cost me two guaranas, two shots of southern comfort and a slick tongue dammit!

“Kama wewe ni mgonjwa nyoosha mkono karibu na tiivii uombewe!” he went on to say. If my hands could stretch towards the ‘tii vii’ I would change the damn channel. But since it can’t I don’t think a hangover counts as sickness so I will stay with my hand wrapped up in my ka blanket.

I was as sick as a dog. I had a headache from Hiroshima to Nagasaki. I had so much action in my system I could pass as a Bruce Willis film. Then my guy on the silver box started the sermon. It was on change. Perfect! The one thing I can’t do. I can’t change the damn channel! How fitting right?
“Mtazamaji unajua Kuna ile change huwa hatupati?”

Say what?! How did he know? You see last night Ciku had stiffed me out of my change as I was buying rounds as if my wallet was a radius! This guy was speaking to me – and I was not listening. I had enough of it it was time for change – yes I know how that sounds. I dragged my miserable aching body across the floor toward my silver archaic analog viewing box and changed the channel. That is when it hit me, the change I needed the most was a new tiivii! One with a remote – so I cam change some more.


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