Famished Apartments and flying bean stew.

This far i am, i still am (copied this from my buddy Mercy’s blog)…the phrase is so poetic and deep i just had to copy it. So here i am lying on the sofa watching the Spain & Netherlands game. I missed the Cameroon game coz my boss (ok, bosses, i have like 6 of them) decided to have a meeting last evening at 1900 hours, bad timing boss(es), that was super cruel!

Hey, these footballers have really big heads. I touch mine and i think it’s quite small, i think there is a mineral lacking in my diet and that’s why my head ain’t growing. My head has a circumference of less than 15.375 inches. Well, not that the circumference of my head has anything to do with the topic here; i just thought it would be worthwhile to mention it.

But since am just mentioning it, if my head was a house, it would indeed be very small; self confused. You know, i have so many voices in my head (like Diana Gitau’s ) it makes me wonder whether i have other invisible heads which hang out like forsaken branches from my neck. The voices have to housed you know.

Speaking of self confused houses; i started (most people do) my ‘break away’ thing where i spread my wings and flew away from home, landed in a self confused ‘famished apartment’. this here is the source of this post. Felt good paying the rent though days flew so fast i almost felt like i was paying it twice every month. My landlady was called Mamake Joshua, a mokorino who could jump 6 feet high for Yahweh and still insult you in the most nasty way without even batting an eyelid. All in a day’s work.

I got me a roomie, my younger bro. I have never in my life shared a bed with any man other than my bro……

So one day we are asleep, sleep so deep you would have done an autopsy on us without jabbing us with anaesthesia. Then smack, in the dead of the night a SWAT team descended on us with choppers and guns and humvees and grenade launchers, ripped off the roof…….wah, ilikuwa kama movie ya Chuck Norris.

Wait, where were we before this SWAT thing? Yes, i was watching the Spain and Netherlands game. Van persie scores a great header, slides like twedy fae feet and i tell you if that was a normal soccer pitch like the ones we have in kenya his abdomen would have been history, that and the bean bag that houses his future kids (insert mischievous smile)!

But let’s get back to the SWAT affair. Ok, it wasn’t SWAT, it was just the Kenya Police doing their thing of raiding the ghetto. You see, our famished apartment was approx only 10 sqm. The distance from the door is just a stride. A Kenyan Policeman is trained to kick even a steel door with the strength of Zeus and Thor. They knocked down our wooden door which landed on top of us in bed.

Now, this is how we sleep, mouth wide open to release copious amounts of air, body curled to snake position, hands tucked neatly between the thighs. Mostly the sheets and/or blankets are on the floor. We are Dead asleep.

There is a sufuria on the floor, Police man 1 kicks it so hard it ricochets against the four walls, painting the entire place with bean stew. There goes our breakfast. He should have been a footballer this cop.

Policeman 2 grabs me by my shorts (i had no underwear so i was fighting hard to conceal the fundamentals….in my head i was laughing!) and throws me straight out of the room. In the moment of haste as i was flying out i quickly disengaged my deep sleep and tucked it where the door was supposed to be. I planned to continue with it later.

It’s freaking cold outside and they sit us down, feels like a Mau Mau detention center. We are barefoot and inadequately dressed to deal with the cold earth. They are vetting us big time. They ask for our Ids and passports and birth certificates and i was sure they would gladly issue us with death certificates as well.

Gichana wapi Gitaburiso (Boy, where is your ID)?”
Officer ID iko kwa nyumba (officer, my ID is inside the house)!” i answer. He silences me with a whip.
Kumanyoko!” ok, i cannot even translate this. It’s a super high voltage insult that only a Kenyan policeman can use with such reckless abandon.

Mamake Joshua had been awoken by the commotion and came to see what was up. Luckily she talks well with the SWATTERS, they hear the old woman out and let us go back to our famished apartments, or what was left of them. We slept with the door (what door??) open and remembered with nostalgia how well we had cooked the bean stew and how beautiful it looked splashed on the walls.

Remember the deep sleep i had tucked away? Well, it was still there trembling furiously…..and the next day our Mokorino landlady increased rent by 300 bob!


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