No laughing matter today: PART 1 ROBBED AT breast POINT! - PART 1 The short rains had resumed, watering the dusty streets which sprouted with fresh green vegetation. The Christmas celebrations were first approaching and as custom I was at home, to ‘eat Christmas nyumbani’. Those days I used to stay at a silent gated estate where we knew everyone in the neighborhood. My parents lived a few blocks away and I only stayed with my young brother. My Cousin was a peace keeping soldier with the Sierra Leone peace troops and his stint had just ended. He was back to Kenya, and he had requested me to keep his belongings in my two bedroomed house as he looked for a good house to rent. He was a fairly rich guy- state of the art furniture, expensive electronics and handsome amount of dollars which he didn’t want to put in a bank.He handed them over to me for custody, all his wealth now under my watch. I felt happy and indirectly rich too. We had hot coffee, as he narrated to me the war anecdotes and survival tales. Later, I escorted him to the bus stop outside the estate. The evening drizzles were gathering momentum and we paced up. As the drops grew bigger I regretted why I had forgotten the umbrella. As we turned the final junction to face the main road, we heard a bang, my cousin regimentally shouted ‘take cover’ and as a trained Uganda guerrilla militia, I screeched in a second and dived to the ditches only to land on my cousin who had preceded the plunge, hearts in our mouths. It took us a minute to realise it was just the power transformer which had blown up.There was a complete blackout in the entire estate. We hurried to the stage and my cousin boarded a Matatu off as I quickly turned back to the house.My mind was on the dollars which I had stashed under the kitchen carpet. The drizzles had by now turned to steady droplets with the whole estate deadly dark with no power. I turned on a nearby shop to buy a candle but found it was closed. Dejected, I decided to just go and wait for the powerblackout to be sorted. As I turned back I almost collided with a fairly tall lady. Her shiny lipstick was dazzling in the darkness. Standing a foot away, my ‘manner-less’ hormones woke up. I greeted her, casually she re-joined. She was shivering, cold and looked confused. She told me that some boys had snatched away her handbag which had everything. I had never heard cases of insecurity in our estate but courtesy prevented me from doubting her. Ladies are always right you know.She was new to the estate, rained on and with no umbrella and looked misplaced. Sheepishly I covered her with my jacket, exposing myself to the chilly drizzles. I didn’t ask her many questions but told her to follow me to my house to at least stay away from the rain as I find out how best to help her. We sat opposite to each other. Her pointed breasts, threatening to tear the scanty bra, pointed at me like a gun muzzle, mysteriously making the cold to disappear.My mind wanted to ask her who she was but the heart wanted to ask her if she will spend the night. We sat there, staring and dawdling. My legs were rehearsing on their own with the mind fantasizing. I told her that I was alone in the whole house the whole night, even before she asked. It felt awkward but promising. She was Carinah, she said it when I told her my name. She asked me where the washroom was, I pointed to its direction, suppressing the temptation to ask if I could escort her. As she left, her hips swung, and swayed with them my heart and hormones. I crossed my legs to ease the hardness; I pinched my puffin barrel and whispered to it, “Kama ukona kiherehere shuka umufuate basi” I was still hard and confused when I heard her scream from the toilet. I shot up. Stood still on top of the coffee table in awe and listened again. For a second I thought I had heard it wrong but another long, frightening scream reverberated across the whole house. She sounded hurt, choked and as if someone was struggling her. The shriek send shivers down my spine. My erection subsidized and I came back to my senses. I slid under the sofa set, not to hide but to pull out my Somali sword which I kept for such instances. ******************************************************************************************************
Posted on: Thu, 21 Aug 2014 08:58:26 +0000
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