I don’t know how they did it but a month ago we watched a film at work during working hours. Not everyone was invited but most of us tried to get in to watch it.
We got the information not through an internal memo or mail as the Staff did, but through the normal channels aka rumours. Word went round that the Ministry of Labour had organized a motivational film for the workers and that all of us were invited but those who wished to work could continue with their routine. Most of the workers wished to keep their jobs and therefore declined with lots of regrets at missing such an opportunity. The Staff attended en mass.
Being a worker but closer to the Staff, I attended and even got a front row seat by virtue of being asked to carry chairs for the guests and the Staff. I had other work to do but decided to stay just to make sure they were comfortable and got myself a chair in the process, nothing extraordinary about that.
I, unfortunately, did not make it through the entirety of the movie as one of the Staff who had an earlier engagement came in and stood next to me just as the trailers were ending. It was then that I decided that a job in hand is worth more than a seat and decided purely out of courtesy to give him my seat even though I got no thanks for it. Murmurs followed on my standing and it was only natural that I went to the back as I was not transparent, with the staff eyes following my every move and when I got to the back I again decided to find out if there was anyone left outside and as a result left the room albeit on my own terms.
Of course when I met my fellow workers over our boiled maize lunch the next day, I did not forget to mention my film experience much to their dismay and amazement. Someone even bought me an extra cob of boiled maize as a celebratory gesture for my success for getting that close to the Staff. However, I was nearly overshadowed by a guy who had bought a TV and watched a show called “Killmore kals”. He also had friend who could not understand how he’d seen someone die in a Nigerian film in a morning TV film and be alive in an evening TV film. No matter how it was explained to him he stuck to his guns and in acrimony concluded that it must have been the Nigerian juju at work.
Thankfully, he was sidelined by the new topic that was started on “leg value” in the movies. After a great length of many lurid descriptions of the Nigerian women in the films, it was unanimously agreed that most watched it for the leg show.
On getting back to work after a fulfilling lunch, we met the Staff going for another meeting this time with the Big Boss, his receptionist and his Human resource manager. A couple of guards were also in tow. One of the workers said he wished he could attend one of the many meetings the Staff normally had especially in the hot sunny lazy afternoons. He’d give an arm and a leg to go and sleep in the meetings as well.
Most of the Staff had already trooped in one by one when I was kindly requested to help in setting the chairs again. Unlike the first time there was neither a movie nor the Ministry of Labour people or as we called them Suits. It always looked like they were more interested in their suits than in our welfare what with the way they kept brushing away invisible fluff off their suits punctuated by incoherent murmurs urging the respondent to state his case. The worker would then get summarily dismissed in the days to follow.
One by one the Staff were called in to the Big Boss’s office by the all-smiles- receptionist. A few minutes later some came out all smiles while others were escorted, carried or dragged to the gate by the guards and locked out. Apparently some of the Staff were being “let go” and the previous days movie was a motivational movie- to create a softer landing for those “let go” and the Suits had come to be greased in anticipation of any future problems. Now that was a movie with different kind of” leg value”-one leading to “tarmacking.”
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Bar Soap For Lotion.
I have been rather busy this last couple of months. What with the African Nations cup and the FIFA World Cup to deal with. I have been fully involved in their preparations to ensure their smooth running. I preferred the FIFA World Cup more because it had more set ups and re-evaluations to do plus the clientele were very diverse some great others miserly. Things have been good.
I knew things were turning for me when I bought my first ‘hand and body’ lotion without asking the cute attendee at the supermarket promoting it if biology had changed and hands were no longer part of the body. So it’s true I’m no longer using bar soap for lotion, I have moved on. I think I’ve even become spiritual and begin my days with the inkling that ‘every day is a blessing’ before my cold shower and lotion- hand and body lotion- application. I am as they say ‘fairer’ than before. Things could not get any better.
On the other hand- note; there was no ‘on one hand’- my boss has been up in my face cursing me for my constant lateness, sickness and absenteeism as I abscond from work to prepare for the FIFA World Cup. In my success I have seen people do weird things like go to church. Now hold your horses it’s their reason for going to church that has astounded me. I was preparing one family for the FIFA World Cup and when I was done the wife said that she would be the first one to go to church that weekend. The husband obliged and so on that Sunday the Husband was laid back at home waiting for 9am to turn on his TV and try and catch his wife live on TV in a live Sunday sermon broadcast by one local channel. Come the next Sunday he would get his chance.
My preparations have taken to places you’ll never go to. Have you been to your MP’s residence? Not his home but his official residence? You have? Not on a begging mission but because he needed a favor from you? I didn’t think so. Well just to rub it in, I have. And it’s not once or twice but several times. An illegitimate daughter of his has also been pinpointed to me. I also got her phone number so I have been sending her ‘please call me’ text messages and beeping her every now and then. I’m still waiting for her reply as I’m a patient man. The workers at his home have a nickname for her too. I’m not to be quoted but just so you’re in the know they call her “out-grower” – born out of wedlock, came with father to his first marriage. What? You know who an out-grower is? I ask -Are you speaking from experience?
I have also in my forays been to immaculate, gigantic houses where the watchman has his own toilet and bathroom and really good skin. His secret being not only lots of soap and clean water but also a rough polythene sack that he uses to scrub himself thoroughly for the appeasement of his boss’s madam. I had a difficult encounter with him on our first meet. He had left the gate wide open in his haste to keep himself clean when I got to it. There were other people waiting at the gate so I stayed put waiting for him to be done. When he was through he came to address us and began with me but I did not know it. He hurled insults at the guy next to me for not paying attention to him and it was only when he pointed at me that I realized it was me he had been insulting all along. How did he expect me to know that he was cross-eyed?
In the house there was also a cook who fed me like the dogs, literally. I can safely say that those who are always shouting about our country going to the dogs have not met the dogs I ate with. I even sampled some of their crunchy biscuits. The cook has gone to school and has an acquired accent with a refrain to boot. All his sentences would begin or end with the same phrase whatever the case.
“By the way, the food is ready madam.”
“I was feeding the dogs by the way, when the food was cooking madam.”
“By the way madam, do you want me to serve with the white plates or the clear ones today?”
“I think, by the way, that it will rain today.”
“I’m the chief cook here by the way.” Never mind that he was the only cook there!
“By the way, where do you come from?”
To which I nearly answered “I’m definitely not from by the way!” at the risk of missing out on the food he was about to serve.
I have also been to the near-do-wells and have assisted them with FIFA World Cup preparations as well. Most of them have huge masts that I had to lift on my own on to their roofs and fix so that they could get a clearer reception of the free-to-air TV stations. My work is so good that I have started rumours that once I fix your antennae depending on your payment you might receive cable TV. Of course I’ve been modest enough when asked to confirm or deny them. I told you what I have been doing right? Fixing TV aerials for a fee.
Unfortunately it’s all coming to an end tonight. The FIFA World Cup ends tonight and I’ll be out of work. Soon, I’ll be back to bar soap for lotion- for both “hands and body”.
.
I knew things were turning for me when I bought my first ‘hand and body’ lotion without asking the cute attendee at the supermarket promoting it if biology had changed and hands were no longer part of the body. So it’s true I’m no longer using bar soap for lotion, I have moved on. I think I’ve even become spiritual and begin my days with the inkling that ‘every day is a blessing’ before my cold shower and lotion- hand and body lotion- application. I am as they say ‘fairer’ than before. Things could not get any better.
On the other hand- note; there was no ‘on one hand’- my boss has been up in my face cursing me for my constant lateness, sickness and absenteeism as I abscond from work to prepare for the FIFA World Cup. In my success I have seen people do weird things like go to church. Now hold your horses it’s their reason for going to church that has astounded me. I was preparing one family for the FIFA World Cup and when I was done the wife said that she would be the first one to go to church that weekend. The husband obliged and so on that Sunday the Husband was laid back at home waiting for 9am to turn on his TV and try and catch his wife live on TV in a live Sunday sermon broadcast by one local channel. Come the next Sunday he would get his chance.
My preparations have taken to places you’ll never go to. Have you been to your MP’s residence? Not his home but his official residence? You have? Not on a begging mission but because he needed a favor from you? I didn’t think so. Well just to rub it in, I have. And it’s not once or twice but several times. An illegitimate daughter of his has also been pinpointed to me. I also got her phone number so I have been sending her ‘please call me’ text messages and beeping her every now and then. I’m still waiting for her reply as I’m a patient man. The workers at his home have a nickname for her too. I’m not to be quoted but just so you’re in the know they call her “out-grower” – born out of wedlock, came with father to his first marriage. What? You know who an out-grower is? I ask -Are you speaking from experience?
I have also in my forays been to immaculate, gigantic houses where the watchman has his own toilet and bathroom and really good skin. His secret being not only lots of soap and clean water but also a rough polythene sack that he uses to scrub himself thoroughly for the appeasement of his boss’s madam. I had a difficult encounter with him on our first meet. He had left the gate wide open in his haste to keep himself clean when I got to it. There were other people waiting at the gate so I stayed put waiting for him to be done. When he was through he came to address us and began with me but I did not know it. He hurled insults at the guy next to me for not paying attention to him and it was only when he pointed at me that I realized it was me he had been insulting all along. How did he expect me to know that he was cross-eyed?
In the house there was also a cook who fed me like the dogs, literally. I can safely say that those who are always shouting about our country going to the dogs have not met the dogs I ate with. I even sampled some of their crunchy biscuits. The cook has gone to school and has an acquired accent with a refrain to boot. All his sentences would begin or end with the same phrase whatever the case.
“By the way, the food is ready madam.”
“I was feeding the dogs by the way, when the food was cooking madam.”
“By the way madam, do you want me to serve with the white plates or the clear ones today?”
“I think, by the way, that it will rain today.”
“I’m the chief cook here by the way.” Never mind that he was the only cook there!
“By the way, where do you come from?”
To which I nearly answered “I’m definitely not from by the way!” at the risk of missing out on the food he was about to serve.
I have also been to the near-do-wells and have assisted them with FIFA World Cup preparations as well. Most of them have huge masts that I had to lift on my own on to their roofs and fix so that they could get a clearer reception of the free-to-air TV stations. My work is so good that I have started rumours that once I fix your antennae depending on your payment you might receive cable TV. Of course I’ve been modest enough when asked to confirm or deny them. I told you what I have been doing right? Fixing TV aerials for a fee.
Unfortunately it’s all coming to an end tonight. The FIFA World Cup ends tonight and I’ll be out of work. Soon, I’ll be back to bar soap for lotion- for both “hands and body”.
.
Trial and Error
Excuse me, does this trouser make my bum look big?
What?
My bum. It does, doesn’t it?
I don’t know!
See those guys over there?
Yeah.
They said I could not make you smile.
They did?
Yeah and now they’re waiting for you to wave at them.
So you want me to wave at them?
No. You don’t have to I will.
Why aren’t they waving back?
They’re probably wondering who I am. I don’t know them.
I thought you said…
Forget about them. They’re not important. I’m more interested in you.
Wa, ok.
I was just seated over there when you walked in and thought to myself.
Yes.
I thought I needed to check if they were real.
If what was real?
Those two.
WHAT!
Those beautiful earrings you got on.
Oh!
They go well with your dress.
Thanks, I guess.
I’m Edward.
Joy.
You must think I’m weird.
Yes you are definitely weird.
Thanks.
Thanks?
For the compliment. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far Joy.
Do you go asking people about your bum?
No. You?
NO!
I just thought the line “have we met before?” is so over used.
So that was your line?
Kind off.
So now what next?
Well I’m sort of lost right now.
Lost?
Yeah. I did not think I’d get this far. Not with someone like you.
What do you mean by that: “someone like you?”
Someone as pretty as you.
Is that another one of your lines?
Yeah. Told you I was lost. Any hints?
This is the part you’re supposed to ask me what I’m doing here.
What are you doing here?
Waiting for someone.
Who?
What about you? What are you doing here?
Checking you out.
Yeah?
Yeah.
So what do you think?
I think whoever you’re waiting for better come quick.
Why?
Cos I’m trying to make a coup de tat here. All I need’s a phone number.
And why on earth would I give it to you?
Cos every pretty girl needs one and I’m willing to be one.
Be what?
Your stalker.
You said your name is? Edward?
Yes, Edward.
Edward you’re starting to freak me out.
Is that a good thing?
No.
So, I’m not getting it am I?
Nope.
So who are you waiting for anyway?
My boyfriend.
Oh …ok. Is he a big guy?
Yeah and he’s going to bash your head in if you don’t leave now.
Ok. At least I tried. Cant’ blame a guy for trying.
Can’t.
I can live with that. Tell you what, here’s my number.
What for?
Just in case.
In case of what?
In case you need a stalker.
Ok.
I think I should have stopped when you said I was weird.
Are you leaving or should I?
No need to I’m leaving.
Go.
Ok.
What?
My bum. It does, doesn’t it?
I don’t know!
See those guys over there?
Yeah.
They said I could not make you smile.
They did?
Yeah and now they’re waiting for you to wave at them.
So you want me to wave at them?
No. You don’t have to I will.
Why aren’t they waving back?
They’re probably wondering who I am. I don’t know them.
I thought you said…
Forget about them. They’re not important. I’m more interested in you.
Wa, ok.
I was just seated over there when you walked in and thought to myself.
Yes.
I thought I needed to check if they were real.
If what was real?
Those two.
WHAT!
Those beautiful earrings you got on.
Oh!
They go well with your dress.
Thanks, I guess.
I’m Edward.
Joy.
You must think I’m weird.
Yes you are definitely weird.
Thanks.
Thanks?
For the compliment. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far Joy.
Do you go asking people about your bum?
No. You?
NO!
I just thought the line “have we met before?” is so over used.
So that was your line?
Kind off.
So now what next?
Well I’m sort of lost right now.
Lost?
Yeah. I did not think I’d get this far. Not with someone like you.
What do you mean by that: “someone like you?”
Someone as pretty as you.
Is that another one of your lines?
Yeah. Told you I was lost. Any hints?
This is the part you’re supposed to ask me what I’m doing here.
What are you doing here?
Waiting for someone.
Who?
What about you? What are you doing here?
Checking you out.
Yeah?
Yeah.
So what do you think?
I think whoever you’re waiting for better come quick.
Why?
Cos I’m trying to make a coup de tat here. All I need’s a phone number.
And why on earth would I give it to you?
Cos every pretty girl needs one and I’m willing to be one.
Be what?
Your stalker.
You said your name is? Edward?
Yes, Edward.
Edward you’re starting to freak me out.
Is that a good thing?
No.
So, I’m not getting it am I?
Nope.
So who are you waiting for anyway?
My boyfriend.
Oh …ok. Is he a big guy?
Yeah and he’s going to bash your head in if you don’t leave now.
Ok. At least I tried. Cant’ blame a guy for trying.
Can’t.
I can live with that. Tell you what, here’s my number.
What for?
Just in case.
In case of what?
In case you need a stalker.
Ok.
I think I should have stopped when you said I was weird.
Are you leaving or should I?
No need to I’m leaving.
Go.
Ok.
Getting Bossy
My boss and I have a lot in common. I realized all this while seated in the back left on my way from work in the evening traffic jam yesterday. Guess who else seats on the back left? Granted my back left is in a public service vehicle but the similarity continues- we’re both stuck in the same traffic for hours on end staring out the window. He has a snack in his wait and so do I – I have some roast ground nuts bought from the hawkers just outside the vehicle while he has some nuts as well in his chocolate candy bar.
Like my boss I also like new clothes. In fact all of us at work have new clothes thanks to him and the annual stock taking held at the end of last year. All employees got a pair of trousers while the ladies got a skirt . Everyone would like to think of it as our Christmas or new gift but we know it’s not. Our boss was just getting rid of dead stock and what better way than to invest it in his workers. He used some of the none moving cloth material to make us new uniforms. The color does not do us much justice but we are not complaining at least not in his earshot. The color grey is unofficially for school uniforms here in Kenya right? So why do we look like we’re going to school every morning? School of work?
Other complains are on the quality of the material- it shrinks. The picture you see early in the morning as we queue to get in at the gate before the security search is both gruesome and lovely. Gruesome because all the men seem to have a one size fits all pair of trousers. All the trousers are at ankle length, what we call “can’t reach down.”The lovely part is on the other side of the line- the women’s line. Our trousers shrunk right? What do you think happened to their skirts?
When it comes to readership my boss and I are also in the same league. A slight difference though is that he is more interested in the present whereas I’m inclined to the past . We read the same magazines and newspapers, I , just an year later when he’s dumping them in his end of year office clearance. Those magazines do have a good read whatever the year and the newspapers come in handy at least once or twice a day when I visit the small private room outside my room. Tip- a little water makes them user friendly.
It therefore comes as no surprise to you then that recently when a female colleague sent me a short message informing me that she would be coming to my room in the evening I got my best china out. I filled the wine bottles I had gotten from my boss with boiled water to serve my guest. This was no ordinary guest- she is the boss’s receptionist. Thanks to her the word “receptionist” has had many new meanings added to it at work. It is not every day that she gives “house calls” to “workers” hence my anticipation for her arrival and behest to be a good “receptionist” in the spirit of receiving. I also asked Jose to lend me his two-battery operated radio to play some cool music that would set the mood. I was tempted to also ask for Jose’s low wattage bulb that he had for those special occasions but thought better of it for I wanted to see exactly how I would be received.
I was all set by the time I had the knock on the door, the ambience in my room very welcoming. I had spent a good two hours sprucing up the room. My pounding on Jose’s radio batteries had stabilized them. They were struggling to power the radio inefficiently but somewhat effectively. I prayed they would not go dead on me in my hour of need. I opened the door and was met by her warm receptive smile. I smiled back invitingly and asked her to get in.
“Karibu”
“Thanks” she replied, her face still in a smile as she got in. It was definitely something else the boss and I had in common- an appreciation for beauty.
“Have a bed…. I mean a seat on the bed” I mumbled awkwardly, “something to drink?” I continued.
“No, thanks.” She answered as her eyes toured my room. She was finished in ten seconds.
I moved to close the door.
“Don’t close it” she said.
“Okay” I said and walked to the bed and sat by her side. I wished I had gotten Jose’s low wattage bulb the lighting was too bright. I stretched my arm going for her phone to “break the ice”. She stood up.
“I’d like your help on something” She said.
“Yes?” I prodded as I controlled the urge to add “I’m at your service.”
“I was wondering if you could house my brother for the night”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, he’s outside finishing a cigarette. He came over unannounced from my parents to visit and I have some plans for the night. I hope you don’t mind”
“I….my mind…. I thought …no, I don’t mind. It’s ok. I don’t mind. Anything for you.” I answered in calm realization of her intentions.
“Let me get him. Thanks a million. I owe you one. I’ll pay you back someday for sure” she exclaimed her smile now back on full swing as she went to out.
She owes me and I intend to collect and yes that’s another thing I have in common with my boss-I also got her to bed too you know.
Like my boss I also like new clothes. In fact all of us at work have new clothes thanks to him and the annual stock taking held at the end of last year. All employees got a pair of trousers while the ladies got a skirt . Everyone would like to think of it as our Christmas or new gift but we know it’s not. Our boss was just getting rid of dead stock and what better way than to invest it in his workers. He used some of the none moving cloth material to make us new uniforms. The color does not do us much justice but we are not complaining at least not in his earshot. The color grey is unofficially for school uniforms here in Kenya right? So why do we look like we’re going to school every morning? School of work?
Other complains are on the quality of the material- it shrinks. The picture you see early in the morning as we queue to get in at the gate before the security search is both gruesome and lovely. Gruesome because all the men seem to have a one size fits all pair of trousers. All the trousers are at ankle length, what we call “can’t reach down.”The lovely part is on the other side of the line- the women’s line. Our trousers shrunk right? What do you think happened to their skirts?
When it comes to readership my boss and I are also in the same league. A slight difference though is that he is more interested in the present whereas I’m inclined to the past . We read the same magazines and newspapers, I , just an year later when he’s dumping them in his end of year office clearance. Those magazines do have a good read whatever the year and the newspapers come in handy at least once or twice a day when I visit the small private room outside my room. Tip- a little water makes them user friendly.
It therefore comes as no surprise to you then that recently when a female colleague sent me a short message informing me that she would be coming to my room in the evening I got my best china out. I filled the wine bottles I had gotten from my boss with boiled water to serve my guest. This was no ordinary guest- she is the boss’s receptionist. Thanks to her the word “receptionist” has had many new meanings added to it at work. It is not every day that she gives “house calls” to “workers” hence my anticipation for her arrival and behest to be a good “receptionist” in the spirit of receiving. I also asked Jose to lend me his two-battery operated radio to play some cool music that would set the mood. I was tempted to also ask for Jose’s low wattage bulb that he had for those special occasions but thought better of it for I wanted to see exactly how I would be received.
I was all set by the time I had the knock on the door, the ambience in my room very welcoming. I had spent a good two hours sprucing up the room. My pounding on Jose’s radio batteries had stabilized them. They were struggling to power the radio inefficiently but somewhat effectively. I prayed they would not go dead on me in my hour of need. I opened the door and was met by her warm receptive smile. I smiled back invitingly and asked her to get in.
“Karibu”
“Thanks” she replied, her face still in a smile as she got in. It was definitely something else the boss and I had in common- an appreciation for beauty.
“Have a bed…. I mean a seat on the bed” I mumbled awkwardly, “something to drink?” I continued.
“No, thanks.” She answered as her eyes toured my room. She was finished in ten seconds.
I moved to close the door.
“Don’t close it” she said.
“Okay” I said and walked to the bed and sat by her side. I wished I had gotten Jose’s low wattage bulb the lighting was too bright. I stretched my arm going for her phone to “break the ice”. She stood up.
“I’d like your help on something” She said.
“Yes?” I prodded as I controlled the urge to add “I’m at your service.”
“I was wondering if you could house my brother for the night”
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, he’s outside finishing a cigarette. He came over unannounced from my parents to visit and I have some plans for the night. I hope you don’t mind”
“I….my mind…. I thought …no, I don’t mind. It’s ok. I don’t mind. Anything for you.” I answered in calm realization of her intentions.
“Let me get him. Thanks a million. I owe you one. I’ll pay you back someday for sure” she exclaimed her smile now back on full swing as she went to out.
She owes me and I intend to collect and yes that’s another thing I have in common with my boss-I also got her to bed too you know.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Last week in the Van (part 3)
On one hand the girl with the brown dirty fingers could have removed some mud from her shoes and in the process gotten it into her fingers you know. I know I said her dirt was from a lifetime in the rural setting but maybe I’m wrong. On the other hand she was pretty so that could have clouded my judgment too. I’m not saying it did but it could have. I remember getting lost in her eyes when she had looked at me and asked to know what had been going on. I had caught myself in good time just before making a fool of myself –I realized I had been inclining towards her as if ready to plant one on her. Plant what you ask? A kiss! What else did you think? Cactus?
The Miraa chewing fellow in his failed attempt to” break the ice” had helped me do so! I told her about the Miraa chewer’s wandering hand albeit hush hush but clearly touching her thigh in my elaborate demonstration. She did not seem to mind. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.
Anyway, I wished she had sat on my right side which is my best side then she would have had the honour of seeing my dimple. I tried turning my head sideways to show her the dimple and kept throwing one or two smiles her way. I think that made her think she was dealing with another buffoon and I was wondering why she looked alarmed until she moved her leg and I realized my hand was still on her! I quickly removed my hand and grimaced my face tightly; eyes closed expecting a slap but did not get one. When I opened m y eyes I saw her putting on some earphones and then she leaned on the window on her left side and closed her eyes. The ice had freeze once again. Come to think of it her fingers were really dirty. I hope it never comes off.
We were now just over 50km to Nairobi. Back then I thought that perhaps things would change- perhaps her phone battery would go low and then she’d have to open her eyes and I would be there with my dimple ready to start a new page. For now I can confirm to you that nothing of the sort happened. I think she had a new phone.
I decided to wait for a miracle and in the meantime I pretended to be staring out the window on my left stealing glances of her in the process. It was dark outside so the most I could see was just a few spots of light here and there. My thoughts and my eyes were in two different worlds until I heard the man with the heavy leather jacket shout at the driver to stop at a center next en route where he would alight.
The drunkard seated in front was by now fast asleep perhaps finally he had found his true age in his dreams. The hat man next to him was still quite just looking ahead at the endless road and on coming vehicles. I was grateful the driver was no longer on phone. I think he had won the phone argument .He looked apprehensive which I attributed to the blinding lights he had to face every couple of seconds from the on coming vehicles.
The passengers seated behind them were all asleep in awkward poses. The balanced diet woman and the woman with the crying baby were leaning on each other like to trees supporting each other in sleep as they had in eating. The spitting woman next to them leaned in font holding on to the driver’s seat. How could she sleep holding a seat? Isn’t sleep supposed to be relaxing? Even the leather jacket man and the two “politicians” behind her looked at the 3 in awe. “The politicians” had stopped their constitutional debate after it had emerged that neither had read the draft that they had been emotionally arguing about. They had moved on to international politics mostly American and Obama related but from what I heard they did not know much about it as well.
Perhaps if they had spent as much time as the show off reading a newspaper in the dark behind them, then they would have material to argue about. But that could also have been a death knell for their argument for what’s the fun in it if you know the facts? The newspaper man was now half way through his constitution reading. He kept nodding his head and biting his lips as he went through the lines following them with his index finger. One would have thought there was an exam at the end of his destination hence his cramming. Did he know it was a draft and that changes would be made? The Miraa chewer was fascinated by his reading and seemed to chew in sync with the nodding, his hands now fully focused on feeding his mouth with more khat. He had found himself a new obsession. The woman with the weave was however still on her weave patting obsession, now alternating from her right to left hand.
Everyone seemed to have something new going on except for the guy on my right who was still coughing incessantly after every five or so minutes. But not for long for all changed. I had gone back to looking at the girl on my left so peacefully asleep when I was jerked back to life by the loud wail of the driver. (Next: The Last part)
The Miraa chewing fellow in his failed attempt to” break the ice” had helped me do so! I told her about the Miraa chewer’s wandering hand albeit hush hush but clearly touching her thigh in my elaborate demonstration. She did not seem to mind. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.
Anyway, I wished she had sat on my right side which is my best side then she would have had the honour of seeing my dimple. I tried turning my head sideways to show her the dimple and kept throwing one or two smiles her way. I think that made her think she was dealing with another buffoon and I was wondering why she looked alarmed until she moved her leg and I realized my hand was still on her! I quickly removed my hand and grimaced my face tightly; eyes closed expecting a slap but did not get one. When I opened m y eyes I saw her putting on some earphones and then she leaned on the window on her left side and closed her eyes. The ice had freeze once again. Come to think of it her fingers were really dirty. I hope it never comes off.
We were now just over 50km to Nairobi. Back then I thought that perhaps things would change- perhaps her phone battery would go low and then she’d have to open her eyes and I would be there with my dimple ready to start a new page. For now I can confirm to you that nothing of the sort happened. I think she had a new phone.
I decided to wait for a miracle and in the meantime I pretended to be staring out the window on my left stealing glances of her in the process. It was dark outside so the most I could see was just a few spots of light here and there. My thoughts and my eyes were in two different worlds until I heard the man with the heavy leather jacket shout at the driver to stop at a center next en route where he would alight.
The drunkard seated in front was by now fast asleep perhaps finally he had found his true age in his dreams. The hat man next to him was still quite just looking ahead at the endless road and on coming vehicles. I was grateful the driver was no longer on phone. I think he had won the phone argument .He looked apprehensive which I attributed to the blinding lights he had to face every couple of seconds from the on coming vehicles.
The passengers seated behind them were all asleep in awkward poses. The balanced diet woman and the woman with the crying baby were leaning on each other like to trees supporting each other in sleep as they had in eating. The spitting woman next to them leaned in font holding on to the driver’s seat. How could she sleep holding a seat? Isn’t sleep supposed to be relaxing? Even the leather jacket man and the two “politicians” behind her looked at the 3 in awe. “The politicians” had stopped their constitutional debate after it had emerged that neither had read the draft that they had been emotionally arguing about. They had moved on to international politics mostly American and Obama related but from what I heard they did not know much about it as well.
Perhaps if they had spent as much time as the show off reading a newspaper in the dark behind them, then they would have material to argue about. But that could also have been a death knell for their argument for what’s the fun in it if you know the facts? The newspaper man was now half way through his constitution reading. He kept nodding his head and biting his lips as he went through the lines following them with his index finger. One would have thought there was an exam at the end of his destination hence his cramming. Did he know it was a draft and that changes would be made? The Miraa chewer was fascinated by his reading and seemed to chew in sync with the nodding, his hands now fully focused on feeding his mouth with more khat. He had found himself a new obsession. The woman with the weave was however still on her weave patting obsession, now alternating from her right to left hand.
Everyone seemed to have something new going on except for the guy on my right who was still coughing incessantly after every five or so minutes. But not for long for all changed. I had gone back to looking at the girl on my left so peacefully asleep when I was jerked back to life by the loud wail of the driver. (Next: The Last part)
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Last week in the Van (part 2)
I got in to the Nissan (van) and sat at the back not because the van was full but purely on different motivation. Yes, there was girl involved. Soon the van was ready to go and I observed all its occupants starting from the driver.
At the front sat the driver busy conversing in vernacular with someone on the phone at times steering the car with his protruding belly whenever he got agitated and let go of the other hand to emphasize a point to the caller as if he could see him. Next to him was a man with a black hat, one of those given when to you when you buy barbed wire-written “seng’ege ni ng’ombe”. No! Not “Wire fence is a cow!” Don’t translate it okay? Just listen to me! The hat man kept quiet to himself never uttering a word to the drunkard seated next to him, he looked like a lost farmer. Close to the door was the drunken man who kept singing happy birthday to himself. In his song he was 31 but from his balding head and grey-white hair he must have been in his late 60’s, but no one was interested. One would have thought that the hat man being used to dealing with cows would have told him to shut up or get dehorned or neutered.
Behind them sat a woman who knew the value of a balanced diet. She chewed her way throughout the journey changing from boiled eggs to boiled maize and kept insisting that the driver make stops whenever she saw a roadside seller with food. But man or now woman must eat right? One thing you got to give her though is her giving spirit. Half of the food she bought was eaten by the woman next to her and her crying baby. At first I thought the baby was sick but as we went on I realized it was sick alright, sick for the boiled woman’s eggs and other foodstuffs. The baby kept demanding for more. Its mother was more than happy to assist in chewing the food for it and swallowed most of it in the process. No wonder the baby wailed so loudly. The old woman sitting next to them was appalled by their behavior and kept spitting outside at regular intervals while looking at them with scorn.
The man in a heavy leather jacket seated behind them kept looking at the four of them in disgust. He told the two men seated beside him that he hated being in a van with women and children because of all their fuss about nothing. The two men had then stopped their arguments and looked at him for a couple of seconds not knowing how to reply and then continued with their politics. One of them the one with those khaki jackets with many pockets had insinuated that they would be no peace without a new constitution and that he would mobilize “his” people to reject the draft constitution as it was. This was met by a quick rejoinder that the other man also had “his” people who would vote for it. The heavy leather jacket man, he who hated children interrupted them again and asked them if they had read the draft constitution to which they replied that they had not. Their reply invited lots of stares from the whole van .Even the drunkard at the front cut his song short and asked them to tell him how old they thought he was.
We all ignored him except for the man behind the politicians with the day’s newspaper apparently reading the constitution! Show off! He told the drunkard that he was as old as the first constitution in the world. The drunkard by this time was so busy in his world that he did not know he had been insulted. The newspaper man got back to his newspaper world for he had a few hours before the newspaper became stale after all who reads a daily at 6pm? It was just a few minutes to 6pm. This I got to now from the Miraa (Khat) eating man in front of me who had finally “broken the ice” by asking the woman beside him what time it was and had nearly chocked on his saliva in the process. After a few good coughs and minutes had passed he had finally tried his seduction skills again this time asking for her name. She did not respond and there was a long awkward moment which followed.
Now I’m not saying that she was ugly but she was not beautiful. However, she was trying her best to work with what she had. She had a weave which she kept patting every couple of minutes. At first I had thought it was because she wanted to make sure it was still on her head and had not gone with the wind blowing at high speed from the open window beside her. When she dug in to the weave with her fingers, I realized that she must have had an itchy scalp and all the patting had not helped so she had decided to go in for the kill. I think I imagined it but there were some creatures crawling out going down her neck after her long scratch in the weave. She must have felt my eyes on her neck looking at her creatures because when she suddenly turned to face me, she caught me staring and for a moment we were in a gaze.
I broke the gaze and looked away not in fear or shame but in surprise at how grey her face was. She had applied so much white powder on her face that she looked like she’d fallen in to a makeup kit face first. She turned to face the Miraa chewer who had been following her head movements keenly and slapped him! The Miraa chewer spat some greenish saliva on his shirt and quickly faced the front while wiping off the green matter as if nothing had happened. The weave woman pointed a dirty looking index finger at him and told him to keep his hands to himself.
The commotion had woken up the girl sleeping on my shoulder much to my displeasure. The man on my right side who had been punctuating our journey with his loud irritating coughs gave me a wide grin and gestured with his chin and lips at the girl on my left side checking herself out in a small mirror from her bag, as if passing a coded message to me. His grin did not last long for the cough caught up with him and he gave out a big one.
I prayed that the girl would go back to sleep. I did not mind being her mobile pillow. She was pretty. I had immediately known that she did not live in the city and was probably visiting. How? Her fingers. I came from the village so it takes one to know one – she had dirt stuck in her nails. Now this kind of dirt is the one you get off after a lot of washing and zero contact with soil for a long time. Well now you know. (To be continued)
At the front sat the driver busy conversing in vernacular with someone on the phone at times steering the car with his protruding belly whenever he got agitated and let go of the other hand to emphasize a point to the caller as if he could see him. Next to him was a man with a black hat, one of those given when to you when you buy barbed wire-written “seng’ege ni ng’ombe”. No! Not “Wire fence is a cow!” Don’t translate it okay? Just listen to me! The hat man kept quiet to himself never uttering a word to the drunkard seated next to him, he looked like a lost farmer. Close to the door was the drunken man who kept singing happy birthday to himself. In his song he was 31 but from his balding head and grey-white hair he must have been in his late 60’s, but no one was interested. One would have thought that the hat man being used to dealing with cows would have told him to shut up or get dehorned or neutered.
Behind them sat a woman who knew the value of a balanced diet. She chewed her way throughout the journey changing from boiled eggs to boiled maize and kept insisting that the driver make stops whenever she saw a roadside seller with food. But man or now woman must eat right? One thing you got to give her though is her giving spirit. Half of the food she bought was eaten by the woman next to her and her crying baby. At first I thought the baby was sick but as we went on I realized it was sick alright, sick for the boiled woman’s eggs and other foodstuffs. The baby kept demanding for more. Its mother was more than happy to assist in chewing the food for it and swallowed most of it in the process. No wonder the baby wailed so loudly. The old woman sitting next to them was appalled by their behavior and kept spitting outside at regular intervals while looking at them with scorn.
The man in a heavy leather jacket seated behind them kept looking at the four of them in disgust. He told the two men seated beside him that he hated being in a van with women and children because of all their fuss about nothing. The two men had then stopped their arguments and looked at him for a couple of seconds not knowing how to reply and then continued with their politics. One of them the one with those khaki jackets with many pockets had insinuated that they would be no peace without a new constitution and that he would mobilize “his” people to reject the draft constitution as it was. This was met by a quick rejoinder that the other man also had “his” people who would vote for it. The heavy leather jacket man, he who hated children interrupted them again and asked them if they had read the draft constitution to which they replied that they had not. Their reply invited lots of stares from the whole van .Even the drunkard at the front cut his song short and asked them to tell him how old they thought he was.
We all ignored him except for the man behind the politicians with the day’s newspaper apparently reading the constitution! Show off! He told the drunkard that he was as old as the first constitution in the world. The drunkard by this time was so busy in his world that he did not know he had been insulted. The newspaper man got back to his newspaper world for he had a few hours before the newspaper became stale after all who reads a daily at 6pm? It was just a few minutes to 6pm. This I got to now from the Miraa (Khat) eating man in front of me who had finally “broken the ice” by asking the woman beside him what time it was and had nearly chocked on his saliva in the process. After a few good coughs and minutes had passed he had finally tried his seduction skills again this time asking for her name. She did not respond and there was a long awkward moment which followed.
Now I’m not saying that she was ugly but she was not beautiful. However, she was trying her best to work with what she had. She had a weave which she kept patting every couple of minutes. At first I had thought it was because she wanted to make sure it was still on her head and had not gone with the wind blowing at high speed from the open window beside her. When she dug in to the weave with her fingers, I realized that she must have had an itchy scalp and all the patting had not helped so she had decided to go in for the kill. I think I imagined it but there were some creatures crawling out going down her neck after her long scratch in the weave. She must have felt my eyes on her neck looking at her creatures because when she suddenly turned to face me, she caught me staring and for a moment we were in a gaze.
I broke the gaze and looked away not in fear or shame but in surprise at how grey her face was. She had applied so much white powder on her face that she looked like she’d fallen in to a makeup kit face first. She turned to face the Miraa chewer who had been following her head movements keenly and slapped him! The Miraa chewer spat some greenish saliva on his shirt and quickly faced the front while wiping off the green matter as if nothing had happened. The weave woman pointed a dirty looking index finger at him and told him to keep his hands to himself.
The commotion had woken up the girl sleeping on my shoulder much to my displeasure. The man on my right side who had been punctuating our journey with his loud irritating coughs gave me a wide grin and gestured with his chin and lips at the girl on my left side checking herself out in a small mirror from her bag, as if passing a coded message to me. His grin did not last long for the cough caught up with him and he gave out a big one.
I prayed that the girl would go back to sleep. I did not mind being her mobile pillow. She was pretty. I had immediately known that she did not live in the city and was probably visiting. How? Her fingers. I came from the village so it takes one to know one – she had dirt stuck in her nails. Now this kind of dirt is the one you get off after a lot of washing and zero contact with soil for a long time. Well now you know. (To be continued)
Friday, December 11, 2009
Last week in the Van (part 1)
I think I told you what happened last week. I did. I didn’t? Well there’s nothing better to do now so I guess I’ll go over it again for you- one last time, ok?
People die everyday, every second, right now? Anyway the reason for this story is that I had travelled to attend a funeral. No, it’s no one that you know, I think.
I think there was sadness for some minutes and then joy on learning that workers would be allowed to travel to attend the funeral. I confess I was a little bit happy. At my work place we only get official permission to be absent on such occasions. Jose being now a member of the in house welfare association had promised me that all was being organized for the bitter-sweet travel. By “all being organized” I mean he fixed me in the entourage even though the deceased was not in my department. What? My department? Cleaning, but that’s beside the point. Stay focused. Where was I? Oh, the travel.
Yeah, so I got in and I must say it was fun- it reminded me of that time our primary school teacher took us to the agricultural show. Despite the 3 hour walk in the muddy paths we took in our school uniforms it was still fun. The teacher was quite frugal though he made us make groups of four each to share a loaf of bread and a soda. Someone said he took some sodas home for his family. That someone really had it rough for a couple of days later. He experienced what we used to call “global warming”- our frugal teacher lay the rod on his behind every now and then at will. What? The other story? Oh! Ok.
Well we got there and buried our colleague. We made a few stops on the way to sight see- the driver called it “kuuwa nyoka”- killing a snake. Most of the sight seeing was done in the heavily forested areas and individually in hiding. Ok! I’m getting to it. Alright!
When it got to time to travel back some of the deceased relatives said that they wanted a ride back to the city as they had some pressing issues that they had to attend to – rumour had been going on that they wanted to inherit the deceased’s position and the way they saw it the first to get back to our boss would be the rightful heir, thus the race and scramble.
And so they called out for the list of those supposed to have been attending the funeral and my name was not there! I looked at Jose but he was nowhere to be seen. So now I was left stranded in a place I’d never been before with my colleagues not in the least interested in my pleas.
Just before they left I cornered one of them and bled my soul out to her shamelessly. My efforts were rewarded with some money for me to use private means to travel back and that is where the story begins, ok? In the van? The Nissan? The story begins in the van. What? It did not the last time? Do you want to tell this story or will you let me? Fine! So this is what happened….I got in to the Nissan (van) and sat at the back not because the van was full but purely on different motivation… (To be continued)
People die everyday, every second, right now? Anyway the reason for this story is that I had travelled to attend a funeral. No, it’s no one that you know, I think.
I think there was sadness for some minutes and then joy on learning that workers would be allowed to travel to attend the funeral. I confess I was a little bit happy. At my work place we only get official permission to be absent on such occasions. Jose being now a member of the in house welfare association had promised me that all was being organized for the bitter-sweet travel. By “all being organized” I mean he fixed me in the entourage even though the deceased was not in my department. What? My department? Cleaning, but that’s beside the point. Stay focused. Where was I? Oh, the travel.
Yeah, so I got in and I must say it was fun- it reminded me of that time our primary school teacher took us to the agricultural show. Despite the 3 hour walk in the muddy paths we took in our school uniforms it was still fun. The teacher was quite frugal though he made us make groups of four each to share a loaf of bread and a soda. Someone said he took some sodas home for his family. That someone really had it rough for a couple of days later. He experienced what we used to call “global warming”- our frugal teacher lay the rod on his behind every now and then at will. What? The other story? Oh! Ok.
Well we got there and buried our colleague. We made a few stops on the way to sight see- the driver called it “kuuwa nyoka”- killing a snake. Most of the sight seeing was done in the heavily forested areas and individually in hiding. Ok! I’m getting to it. Alright!
When it got to time to travel back some of the deceased relatives said that they wanted a ride back to the city as they had some pressing issues that they had to attend to – rumour had been going on that they wanted to inherit the deceased’s position and the way they saw it the first to get back to our boss would be the rightful heir, thus the race and scramble.
And so they called out for the list of those supposed to have been attending the funeral and my name was not there! I looked at Jose but he was nowhere to be seen. So now I was left stranded in a place I’d never been before with my colleagues not in the least interested in my pleas.
Just before they left I cornered one of them and bled my soul out to her shamelessly. My efforts were rewarded with some money for me to use private means to travel back and that is where the story begins, ok? In the van? The Nissan? The story begins in the van. What? It did not the last time? Do you want to tell this story or will you let me? Fine! So this is what happened….I got in to the Nissan (van) and sat at the back not because the van was full but purely on different motivation… (To be continued)
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