Folks, can you imagine just how fast time has flown! I just noticed that in 2017 I have do e very few creative pieces compared to 2016.I was going through my blog and I felt so nostalgic reading this post.Guys, welcome to read my very first blog post!Being the last post this year, I hope you will enjoy it and I want to wish you a merry blissful Christmas and a happy New year!
It’s a hot and windy Saturday afternoon. The sun is out all vibrant and the wind is trying to steal the show. I get home from church all psyched up to watch the last episode of season one of “House of cards” then darn, power went out.By the way, sometimes I imagine preaching or talking to a big audience is tricky.I remember one time when a pastor in church was warning women against wearing high heeled shoes, his argument being that the moment you put on high heeled shoes and begin to walk, your ass is compelled to swing left right and center.😂😂😂. Lord help us
So, I decide to lie lazily in bed while trying to figure out what to do with a whole 3hours of pitch darkness in the day. I’m just lying there, minding my own business; peeping on Whatsapp, snooping on Facebook, liking this and that, commenting on this and that, profile stalking who and who.Yes,that is my business.
The Estate is very quiet, no one is playing music, I imagine people are still struggling to open their eyes and cook tumbukiza and of course just a few heavenly noises from kids running and playing around, not to mention my Oga brothers who will never learn to talk in low tones. They are about seven young men, probably in their late twenties or early thirties, all living in a two bed-roomed apartment . They are tall, very dark and their beards can make Prophet Owuor’s chin bow down in shame. They like to shop on Friday, or so I think. I don’t know where they source these slim, light skinned Kenyan babes, every weekend and when that is done, all neighbors get a treatment of the
conventional thick Nigerian accent dose mingled with giggles. How I long for Monday!
Away from my brothers from the West, I have never seen my next door neighbor, but judging from her shoe size, I think she’s short, plump, fluffy, and her African hair must be very black, long and shiny.
Sometimes, I imagine Cesare Lombroso would be very proud of himself if he saw her. We will call her Viviane. You see, Viviane’s balcony is very close to my bedroom and whenever she steps out to make a phone call, I become part of it. So, literally I’m part of her life, which makes me wonder if she’s part of mine courtesy of the bedroom-balcony proximity. Lol, you’ve never lived if you’ve never owned a living room that’s literally part of someone’s bedroom. So, this afternoon Viviane is terribly pissed off. She’s catapulted out of the house onto the balcony ranting like a mad woman. I am almost tempted to believe she had wedding plans slated for December and her Ten-year savings are stuck at Chase Bank. Nevertheless, I decide hold my horses and listen on. Like I was ever going to help her sort it out! Udaku.
Alas! Apparently, some member of her circus of girlfriends went out with her boyfriend last night without her knowledge or perhaps more importantly, her approval. Her throat must be going dry because she’s been on for about 30 mins.Something’s telling me to chomoa my head outside the window and advise her to drink some water before she can proceed with her ranting. And then I remember that I don’t want to have my afternoon ruined after having a splendid morning in the house of the Lord. One hour down and Viviane is still spitting venom. She finally tells the recipient on the other end that she is hiking a matatu to town. I let out a sigh of relief until the point when I actually imagine that she is probably going to make human biryani out of her boyfriend and the alleged thief. The most painful part is that Vivian’s sneaky little informant is somewhere sipping a cold glass of juice and feeling proud of herself for doing something great for humanity.Y’all little snitches. Smh.
I don’t want to look out of the window for the fear of being caught eavesdropping but I imagine her beautiful, kinky, tough African hair is smoking, almost going up in flames.
Suddenly it’s pouring and I wonder if Viviane is going to make it to town. Well if she does, I will be in my bedroom at exactly 8 p.m. in time for her return….to catch up.