It's Me Scumbag
Elder Lister
Disclaimer: I also didn't read. Its too long.
It is 9pm. On a saturday evening,in the brave new world of corona curfew times. And you are in 'high end' club. High end because you are not above slipping into a mama pima and taking a glass of false courage. High end because it is your boss who has brought here.
It all started at 5pm when the boss came to inspect the works done for the week at his construction site and to pay the day labourers,you included. There was some things you needed to get explained by the boss and since he was meeting someone later,he suggests that he gives you a lift to town as you discuss the issues.
But before you get to town,the boss says that you can go to a hotel and continue with the discussion as he waits for his colleague who he is meeting at that particular place.
You thank your gods. A free ride and a cup of tea in the mix. And you got money in your pocket.
So there you are at the high end club.
As you walked in,you excused yourself to the gents. Because you wanted to get in all the details of the place. In case someone disputes your narration at the base on Monday.
You also take the opportunity to marvel at the bar. You have never seen so many brands of alcohol,in all shapes and sizes. But they do not stock your favourites...your favourites only come in quarter litre bottles and have names like 'Dallas' 'Spark' 'Blue Ice'...
By the time you are getting to the table,your boss and your colleague (you had forgotten about the bugger) have already ordered. And they are not taking tea. Your boss has two green bottles before him and your colleague has a brown one. You know the brand. You relax.
Time flies when you are having fun. At someone else's expense. At around 8:30pm,the boss tells you that the person he was waiting for has arrived. He thanks you and pays the bill. And hands each of you a 500 shillings note. For boda.
At the mention of boda,you sober up. You remember that you live in another county. You live on the boundary of two counties. You normally walk home.
You remember that there is a curfew in place. Its 9pm now. You do not know how you will get home. Alcohol fuelled courage tells you that its going to be fine.
As you leave the premises, after taking exactly five steps from the entrance (sometimes you surprise even yourself,how the hell did you remember that),you hear the famous Kiganjo Swahili. With a distinct baite accent. Its the cops. Asking you where you were and where you think you are going.
Before you even react,you get hit on your back with a whip or so you think. Before you can say afande,another lands again on your back. You become more sober than you have never been and tears well in your eyes.
The same baite accented Swahili orders you to go home pronto...
Pain forgotten,you take off and run. Run through all the back alleys of the town you know towards the road that takes you home. Praying that you do not meet other cops.
On the main road,you duck into the bushes every time you see the headlights of any type of vehicle.
You do eventually find your way home. Into your house. Somehow getting home make you sweat and all the good and bad smells of all the alcohol you have taken make an appearance. The wife pointedly asks where you have been. The memories of what you have just been through comes back. A tear or two escape your eyes. She is now concerned as you remove your jacket and T-shirt and ask her to examine your back for injuries...there are two welts running parallel down your back.
She helps wash them with a bit of salt water. Later on she applies balm as you explain how you were almost killed by curfew police. Tonight,you get sexed in the most gentle way by a woman who has been made to feel guilty for your beating. When you are good,you a very good.
On Sunday,you call your buddy. You had forgotten about him. The woman who answers is not his wife. You will call back you say.
It takes two days for you to get back to normal. You promise the wife that you will be coming home early (until the next offer of alcohol comes,curfew or no curfew).
It also dawns on you that your were used. To keep him occupied as he waited for a woman. Who was not his wife.
It is 9pm. On a saturday evening,in the brave new world of corona curfew times. And you are in 'high end' club. High end because you are not above slipping into a mama pima and taking a glass of false courage. High end because it is your boss who has brought here.
It all started at 5pm when the boss came to inspect the works done for the week at his construction site and to pay the day labourers,you included. There was some things you needed to get explained by the boss and since he was meeting someone later,he suggests that he gives you a lift to town as you discuss the issues.
But before you get to town,the boss says that you can go to a hotel and continue with the discussion as he waits for his colleague who he is meeting at that particular place.
You thank your gods. A free ride and a cup of tea in the mix. And you got money in your pocket.
So there you are at the high end club.
As you walked in,you excused yourself to the gents. Because you wanted to get in all the details of the place. In case someone disputes your narration at the base on Monday.
You also take the opportunity to marvel at the bar. You have never seen so many brands of alcohol,in all shapes and sizes. But they do not stock your favourites...your favourites only come in quarter litre bottles and have names like 'Dallas' 'Spark' 'Blue Ice'...
By the time you are getting to the table,your boss and your colleague (you had forgotten about the bugger) have already ordered. And they are not taking tea. Your boss has two green bottles before him and your colleague has a brown one. You know the brand. You relax.
Time flies when you are having fun. At someone else's expense. At around 8:30pm,the boss tells you that the person he was waiting for has arrived. He thanks you and pays the bill. And hands each of you a 500 shillings note. For boda.
At the mention of boda,you sober up. You remember that you live in another county. You live on the boundary of two counties. You normally walk home.
You remember that there is a curfew in place. Its 9pm now. You do not know how you will get home. Alcohol fuelled courage tells you that its going to be fine.
As you leave the premises, after taking exactly five steps from the entrance (sometimes you surprise even yourself,how the hell did you remember that),you hear the famous Kiganjo Swahili. With a distinct baite accent. Its the cops. Asking you where you were and where you think you are going.
Before you even react,you get hit on your back with a whip or so you think. Before you can say afande,another lands again on your back. You become more sober than you have never been and tears well in your eyes.
The same baite accented Swahili orders you to go home pronto...
Pain forgotten,you take off and run. Run through all the back alleys of the town you know towards the road that takes you home. Praying that you do not meet other cops.
On the main road,you duck into the bushes every time you see the headlights of any type of vehicle.
You do eventually find your way home. Into your house. Somehow getting home make you sweat and all the good and bad smells of all the alcohol you have taken make an appearance. The wife pointedly asks where you have been. The memories of what you have just been through comes back. A tear or two escape your eyes. She is now concerned as you remove your jacket and T-shirt and ask her to examine your back for injuries...there are two welts running parallel down your back.
She helps wash them with a bit of salt water. Later on she applies balm as you explain how you were almost killed by curfew police. Tonight,you get sexed in the most gentle way by a woman who has been made to feel guilty for your beating. When you are good,you a very good.
On Sunday,you call your buddy. You had forgotten about him. The woman who answers is not his wife. You will call back you say.
It takes two days for you to get back to normal. You promise the wife that you will be coming home early (until the next offer of alcohol comes,curfew or no curfew).
It also dawns on you that your were used. To keep him occupied as he waited for a woman. Who was not his wife.
