At the turn of the year, one of my acquaintances set to cross out a certain lass on his hit list. Makumi is his name, so we call him Das. She’s a lovely professional, the target prey, if I say so myself. Working an eight to five in the county capital, entity withheld. Decent residence, judging by the neighbourhood. Intelligence briefs reported that she was most probably single: grabbed a drink in town every random Thursday- ever alone. She’s Sue.
Chimp was also an uncaged bird, so I patted him on the back and said, ‘’Invest, big boy, seems clever. You could even go for the long haul, you know, it’s about time.’’
‘’No way!’’ Snapped Das, ‘’ I’m still on Thrill Avenue.’’
‘’Just remember it’s the females who hunt in the Simba kingdom,’’ I replied.
‘’ Sue me if I get caught!’’ Das defended.
‘’ Sue you!’’
She took him in circles for four months, after which he came back and confessed, ‘’Never seen such. I’m ready to get caught now. Settle if I must.’’
Well, nine months later, Das’ Ndoto has become Lotto, I am happy to report. As a stakeholder in the pregnancy-long investment, I had to ask for a briefing after the summarised report landed at my desk.
‘’So, is it safe to say you are no longer single, Das?’’ I quipped as we sat down to watch football last night.
‘’ Sue is definitely winning an Oscar!’’ Das replied conclusively.
‘’ I…I don’t read, ‘’ I lamented, scanning him for tell-tale signs.
‘’ Those ‘Ooohs’ weren’t loyal.’’ He said flatly, indicating that particular conversation was dead.
I did not ask anything more, because it was a night to talk games, not anatomy. We watched in silence as Arsenal unconvincingly saw off Doncaster.
But Das’ story reminded me of the first time I discovered that ‘Oooohs’ are sometimes not loyal.
I had just cleared form four. I left school on Wednesday, but I could not manage to directly attend a leavers’ bash for logistical reasons. I had strict eyes trained on me, so I chose to sit and wait for Friday.
Come Friday, I arrived at the location which I won’t reveal looking all sharp and dapper. Bash was supposed to kick off at 8:00 pm and go on ‘until you drop,’ but I was there at 6:45. I have never been timelier for any event before or after then.
As you may guess, I had no intention to drop as indicated on the advertisement. My plan was clear: Drink a little to get me mellow and confident, pass a few to the DJ to show appreciation/acquire favours and get some skirt wearer to dance to my tune in and beyond the club. I had saved for the event for a long while in my build up to clearing school, so money wasn’t quite a problem.
Little did I know that I didn’t know!
I wouldn’t until much later, three years later to be precise.
All my plans for the night went according to plan, at least in my eyes. I found me a date and kept her well fed and oiled. We danced and, talked? Not sure. For my generosity, the DJ paid in kind by playing my girls’ requests without frowning. He even mentioned my name around twice through the night. Said I was ‘ndani ya nyumba.’ Major points
By the time everyone was dropping, I and my ‘prom date,’ a fine female who told me she had sat her last paper that afternoon, were still going strong. I should have been alarmed by her stamina at such a young age, but my submission that all things are possible under the sun clouded my vision. We were ready, and all willing ‘ndani ya nyumba ingine.’
By the time I was leaving for home the following day, I couldn’t have asked for a better admission into ‘the world out there.’ The date I had landed had been better than any other I had met in my teen years. Her dance moves and enthusiasm superseded any I had ever seen even in films. I had made a few excesses in finances, but nothing not worth the experience. I however was a little disturbed how Schola- that’s the name I was told she went by- could have such a huge dance floor at such a young age. I had a feeling that her cheers and cries as we danced were a bit over the top.
It wasn’t until three years later I discovered the truth. Well and truly sunken in the real world, I had even lost track of school dates. As I walked into the tavern, I had no idea that it was time for fourth formers to clear school. But then something peculiar caught my attention: A seemingly familiar face in school uniform.
A closer look revealed that it was my ‘prom date’ and she was grooving with the new graduates. I think we locked eyes for a moment, but she looked away too fast. I wanted to believe she was in form one when we first met, but that stubborn little voice in my head kept telling me she had cleared high school way before me, or probably never even been there.
And she was here to welcome another new born.
As Diamond and co. would say, ZIlipendwa! Ufundi Kitandani.