MY VILLAGE DATING EXPERIENCE PART III Years flew by and my quest to win over *Chela permanently intensified. As I grew up, I also discovered ways of making her happy, by copying my elder cousins. There was a shop at our local trading centre that sold several brands of sweets, but her favorite was Orbit – a pack of six sweets in a green packet. It sold for three shillings then and arguably the classiest candy a “civilized” gentleman could get his girl. I had joined high school and my dress code had transformed drastically. I had saggy jeans, an oversized t-shirt and a huge hat that I wore facing backwards. I had saved a little pocket money and bought a Walkman (tiny cassette record player) and a Celine Deon, Dolly Parton, Shabba Ranks and a Chaka Demus & Pliers tapes and so – I had made myself stand out and continued to compete effectively for this beautiful princess. There were several other suitors who had emerged and that meant I had to up my game. Days of going to the Posho Mill had passed by and therefore I depended on church functions – we were both members of the choir and community events like weddings to be able to see her. *Chela had formed a clique of friends and could dress in the latest outfit which to many of my villagers looked strange. They included *Pkoech’s girlfriend who was among the first ladies to brave criticism and wear a trouser which was considered an abomination. A young girl from a family whose father was a forest guard at a station in my village had earlier sparked public debate when she wore jeans trousers. “Have you seen Wangare the daughter of King’ori?” Arap Menjo whispered to a fellow villager when the girl passed through the local trading Centre. “What has she done?” the other man asked curiously. “She is lost; she has adopted the ways of the white people and looks like those wayward girls living in towns. She walks half naked around the village and people fear she may have the big one,” Arap Menjo said. Those days, there was a great fear of HIV/Aids and hence speculation on the cause and mode of transmission was rife. One day, my mother bought me a second hand jacket (mitumba) from the local market. My elder cousins made fun of me that the jacket had been worn by a man who died of the mysterious disease and that if I wore it I could become a victim too. I was not ready to die young. When my mother was away in church one Sunday, I squeezed the jacket into the tiny hole of our pit-latrine and there it went. I later claimed to my mother that it must have been stolen by other boys in the neighborhood. *Chela’s group was made up of very choosy girls. They wore the latest perfumes and walked boldly. Their loud laughter could be heard several kilometers away and most boys chickened out whenever they walked near them. They would retreat to the side of the road and whisper in groups, perhaps challenging one of them to approach the village queens. Securing a date became a bit difficult as her mother was keener on knowing where she slept and had even barricaded their window with extra pieces of timber to ensure they could not sneak out at night. It therefore forced me to look for ways to meet her close to their home. Despite the barricades, she managed to sneak out to meet me in the dark of night by pretending to heed the call of nature behind their small hut. Everyone in the village must have been afraid of the dark. When night fell, it was common to see or hear both men and women relieving themselves behind their houses even though the pit latrine was a few meters away. Boys had tales of their brothers wetting the beds and sneaking to sleep in the kitchen so that they can implicate their siblings the following day of “making it rain” on the bed at night. “It was a warm soothing feeling at first. Then it turned freezing cold. I tried pulling the edge of my blanket to cover the wet part of the bed but *Pkarna had rolled himself tight in it,” Psubei my cousin one day told his mother who had declared war on all bed wetters within her homestead. My Uncle had purchased a piece of land near their home and had put up a small house which he slept in whenever he came to harvest his maize. My uncle lived in a distant land and could occasionally visit his farm to plant, weed or harvest his maize. But whenever he was away, he left his key at our home so that I could occasionally go to his house to chase away rats and cut grass around the compound to prevent snakes from finding a hiding place under his bed. So, this provided a perfect opportunity. I had been meeting her severally in the bush and it was becoming uncomfortable since the rainy season was setting in and sheltering under trees was no longer an option. Most of the nights we had been hiding behind the bushes but as the bites of night insects worsened, we moved close to the clear areas which meant we risked being busted. But we did nothing really. It was a time when I was still discovering these mysterious female beings. I had so many questions about why they were developing strange fruits on their chests and why their “Sitting allowances” were growing faster than ours. We could just sit in the darkness, watching the skies and chatting through the night. But *Chela had come to know more than me. “Can we try something?” she told me one night. I froze not knowing what to answer. “Does she want to make me show her my small pimpim?” I asked myself, looking at a close footpath, I was planning to take off and return home if she suggested such. “Yy..y..es! uhm, what is it?” I asked nervously. “Close your eyes,”she said, drawing closer. My heart beat as if it could pop out of my chest the next minute. I closed my eyes and braced for the unknown. I felt her breath as she drew near, the scent of her latest perfume soothed my nerves. My hair stood as if an electric current was flowing through my blood. I felt her body touch mine, her breath more clear as she held my hand. “Let’s look at the sky and find the star that led the wise men to Jesus when he was born,” she whispered into my ear. I opened my eyes and looked up. I could not look at her as my face could have sold nervous me. I could smell the odor of my sweat which was streaming deep inside my cloths but I had to cover it up. “Yyy-you mean the one we were taught in Sunday school?” I stuttered. “Yes, yes that one. Do you think that is the one?” she said pointing up in the sky to a shiny star. My mind went blank. I just nodded in agreement as I gazed into the sky. “What did I think she would do to me? I wish she kissed me,” I said to myself. My friends had talked about being kissed on the lips by their girlfriends but I had not managed to comprehend the act itself. “It is close to being bit on your lips, but much softer,” My elder cousin *Protich tried to explain to me one day. I turned, look at her lips that shone in the moonlight and wondered what it felt like to be kissed by her. As days passed by, the rains set in and we were forced to look for an alternative. We had perfected the art of sneaking in the darkness until we were confident that no one could detect us. Occasionally we reflected on the close shave experiences I had gone through and laughed. But there was more in store for both of us (Continues in part IV)
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 08:51:28 +0000
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