The high black wooden tables were laden with drinks. Yes, drinks, what were you expecting them to be laden with pregnancy? Wait, here’s a better one, or you thought laden as in Osama Bin? Am I trying too hard again? So the tables were laden with drinks and I and three other guys were seated across each other discussing important matters. Top on the list was why Obama had to come and visit the country. My argument, as you will agree with me, was that the government spent millions pushing forward the digital agenda they might as well prove it by having a Skype call. If it was good enough for them to rule while they would be at The Hague it should suffice for a presidential visit.
Imagine them setting up the call on a large Samsung smart TV with an unreliable Zuku connection that keeps buffering every few seconds. Hunye would give Ruto that ‘wewe nani alikwambia uweke zuku sasa na unajua faiba ndio mambo yote’ look and Ruto would give the ‘ule msee wa faiba ako na accent kama ya Kalonzo so haingemake’ look. Hunye would then summon his digital assistant (I am assuming he has one) the guy is slender and tall with boney cheeks. He has huge black rectangular spectacles that hang on his nose which he has to keep pushing up with his index finger to prevent from sliding down. He will fumble with the wires and mumble words to himself ever so often and throw around IT jargon. He will say something about the servers then stop one of them midway from calling the actual servants. On the other hand Obama is bored and is making a tweet on his potus account using the hash tag #OnlyinKenya while the social media strategist for the JAP tries to tweet Zuku expecting to get a resounding response with the all too familiar “we have our technicians working on the issue to resolve it kindly bear with us” only to realize there is no wifi to tweet with. The whole thing would be a disaster but at least we wouldn’t have had to deal with traffic jam backed up like the constipated intestine of an ‘I only eat pizza’ diva.
We laugh at the thought of it as one guy decides to come up with his own theory. Okay, his is less of a theory but a complaint. He hates the fact that during the period the guy is here we will have to suffer untold havoc on the road. This guy has a limousine with missile launchers and a system that can unhook the bra off a super model 300 yards away what is he so afraid of? Why does the ordinary, vitz driving, newspaper reading, beer drinking, hard working, politics hating, chapatti seated on common Kenyan have to suffer? But in this guys defense his girlfriend is the iron lady herself and that couch in the house that faces the television is her iron throne. This guy tilts his head at unnatural angles to watch television because he is afraid to ask the mama to move. So I don’t think she would let the ‘babe there was jam si you know Obama is in town’ excuse for his lateness fly. She would want photographic evidence of ‘The Beast’ and maybe two references from secret service agents that indeed they saw the guy in his red vitz frustrated or else it’s the couch for him. I pity the guy and suggest he should take an off during the period of Obama’s stay, but the look on his face tells a tale of a man that is content sleeping on the couch than spending even half the day with the girlfriend.
“Did you know they are beautifying the roads?” One of the guys fires across
“Yeah, man I heard.” One replies
“This guy won’t even be here a month and they’re making roads for him” I reply
“Kwani you, your mother didn’t have those sahanis for guests?” The guy with an iron girlfriend shoots across
We all take a minute to think about the last statement. It actually does make sense. My mother would have special seat clothes, plates, cups, hot pots, thermos and even cutlery for guests. There is something in the African DNA about treating guests well. Sometimes a guest would come and I would innocently take out the ‘ordinary’ cups and she would snap at me “leta zile za wageni”. So it makes sense that we will beautify the roads for Obama’s visit. He should make a point to visit the slums, parts of outer ring, Airport North, my house these all need beautification.
Drinks kept flowing and the banter shifted from beautification to beatification. First off, did you notice the resounding resemblance between beatification and beer-tification? Here I thought religion only endorsed wine. So the guys also noticed this and we forgot about sister what’s her name sitting pretty in some tomb in Nyeri. In all honesty the only thing I could care about in that county is that man that had his pee pee stick cut off. Sorry man things just got hard for you and not in the good way. But, how does a woman just decide to cut off the ding-a-ling? Forget the woman, how does a man let a woman wielding a knife close to his ding-a-ling? Was it some weird sex thing? What did she tell you? Ummh honey I read this thing when I was in the market (probably on a newspaper that wrapped her meat for the evening) that said in order to make the experience more pleasurable we should caress the ding-a-ling with the sharp end of the knife. The article said side effects could be severe bleeding and or the ding-a-ling falling off. Do you think we should try it? What did the guy even say? Yes? Did he ignore the text and deliberately get drunk thinking it would boost his confidence but instead he got too drunk and couldn’t get ding-a-ling up so the wife decided to skip to the side effects? I will never know.
Time flew and soon the drinks were no longer flowing. Save for just three botis on the table it was time to go home. The rest of the crew had no commitments but we did say a silent prayer for our brethren lest he got his ding-a-ling cut-off. We also added in a bit to the man up above to spare him from traffic laden roads during Obama’s visit. We however encouraged him to take selfies with the secret service agents. We know it wouldn’t work but it’s easier telling his girlfriend he is in a cell because they have arrest records.