Field Marshal
Elder Lister
So I was driving leisurely along the Thogoto-Thigio Road, officially known as Dagoretti Road, in Luseggetti watching the local teenage girls swish their little dirty asses this way and that way on their way to the market when I brought my four-wheel drive, diesel-powered Wingroad with alloy rims and warmed leather seats to a screeching halt.
I just had to say hi to her.
Hi, is this the right way to Kamangu?
She smiled to reveal a set of slightly uneven badly-kept teeth. She knew a fishing question when she heard one.
And that's how it all began a week ago. Yesterday, I picked her up from about the same spot for a cuppa just up the road at Kamangu Gardens, our local five-star establishment.
No sooner had we settled in than I heard her exclaim.
"Ngai, Ngai, sitaki ile couple imeingia inione. They are my customers".
She took as much evasive action as she could in the circumstances, but of course they still saw her.
A cup of tea and one or two sausages later, a huge group of women made their entry. Again the reaction from my beau was the same. She didn't want to be seen by them because, ostensibly, ni 'wamama wa mucene'.
I was starting to wonder, kwani am I dealing with a mafioso hitman or a simple businesswoman from a nondescript backwater in the bundus?
When we were finally through and made to exit, she shot out first and told me to find her outside the perimeter wall of the restaurant. She had to make a call. I was starting to get irritated. Her stuff was still in my red vintage Wingroad Convertible otherwise I would have taken off like a bat from hell.
Anyway, being the cool and collected gentleman I am, I did as asked. Picked her just outside the gate to drop her at the nearest boda stage so she could take her ride home.
"Niweke tuu hapa nitembee. Nataka kustretch miguu," she asked 100 metres before where about 40 bodas and their riders were parked. Ngai Mwathani! Sasa hata hataki tuonekane na yeye na watu wa nduthi? Kwani how bad is my reputation around here?
I dropped her where she requested.
As I turned my awesome 8-piston behemoth, Made in Japan no less, around to drive to Frae Over, Nyandarwa, for a Kiama Kia Maa mbuzi, I was stunned. WHY WOULD A 37-YEAR OLD SINGO MATHA WITH BAD TEETH AND AGING SKIN BE SO SHY OF BEING SEEN WITH ME THAT MUCH?
As I sanitised my hands in my stretch limo it hit.
When we first met, I was wearing a mask, some shades and a kofia.
But when we met to take tea, I had to remove the mask, and of course I couldn't wear shades inside a restaurant. She must have seen me in all my glory - dentures, bald head, white chest hairs, hearing aid and all - and screamed in her heart: HOLY MATHA OF GOD, WHAT AM I DOING WITH THIS PREHISTORIC ALLOSAURUS? JEESO!
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I cursed out the GSU dude at Kwa-Mathore, along A104, who asked me stupid questions on where I was going.
It's not nice when a washed-out pre-menopausal kiheti (hag) is the one telling you that you are out of the game.
Fuck that bitch!
I just had to say hi to her.
Hi, is this the right way to Kamangu?
She smiled to reveal a set of slightly uneven badly-kept teeth. She knew a fishing question when she heard one.
And that's how it all began a week ago. Yesterday, I picked her up from about the same spot for a cuppa just up the road at Kamangu Gardens, our local five-star establishment.
No sooner had we settled in than I heard her exclaim.
"Ngai, Ngai, sitaki ile couple imeingia inione. They are my customers".
She took as much evasive action as she could in the circumstances, but of course they still saw her.
A cup of tea and one or two sausages later, a huge group of women made their entry. Again the reaction from my beau was the same. She didn't want to be seen by them because, ostensibly, ni 'wamama wa mucene'.
I was starting to wonder, kwani am I dealing with a mafioso hitman or a simple businesswoman from a nondescript backwater in the bundus?
When we were finally through and made to exit, she shot out first and told me to find her outside the perimeter wall of the restaurant. She had to make a call. I was starting to get irritated. Her stuff was still in my red vintage Wingroad Convertible otherwise I would have taken off like a bat from hell.
Anyway, being the cool and collected gentleman I am, I did as asked. Picked her just outside the gate to drop her at the nearest boda stage so she could take her ride home.
"Niweke tuu hapa nitembee. Nataka kustretch miguu," she asked 100 metres before where about 40 bodas and their riders were parked. Ngai Mwathani! Sasa hata hataki tuonekane na yeye na watu wa nduthi? Kwani how bad is my reputation around here?
I dropped her where she requested.
As I turned my awesome 8-piston behemoth, Made in Japan no less, around to drive to Frae Over, Nyandarwa, for a Kiama Kia Maa mbuzi, I was stunned. WHY WOULD A 37-YEAR OLD SINGO MATHA WITH BAD TEETH AND AGING SKIN BE SO SHY OF BEING SEEN WITH ME THAT MUCH?
As I sanitised my hands in my stretch limo it hit.
When we first met, I was wearing a mask, some shades and a kofia.
But when we met to take tea, I had to remove the mask, and of course I couldn't wear shades inside a restaurant. She must have seen me in all my glory - dentures, bald head, white chest hairs, hearing aid and all - and screamed in her heart: HOLY MATHA OF GOD, WHAT AM I DOING WITH THIS PREHISTORIC ALLOSAURUS? JEESO!
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I cursed out the GSU dude at Kwa-Mathore, along A104, who asked me stupid questions on where I was going.
It's not nice when a washed-out pre-menopausal kiheti (hag) is the one telling you that you are out of the game.
Fuck that bitch!
Last edited:
Sunday.