she never comes back

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   PHOTO BY ANDREW ONYANGO

You are treading to the studio when you bump into this stunningly attractive girl. She enfolds you so tightly that your nerves realise she isn’t in any bra. Her jagged nipples rub against your chest and titillate you, a feeling that ignites weird chemical reactions that are promptly conveyed to your boxers – where you now feel the actual impact. Come on, you are a man! With her are three other equally gorgeous chics. You loosely hug the trio lest you smell a blend of their conc colognes. And also because you don’t want to move around in rainbow of cheeks. I mean, clinching these three girls tightly will mean that your face or cheeks get painted with each girl’s makeup; one has a red lipstick, another one green, and the other is wearing yellow lipstick.

“I’m Achman,” you stammer.

“Stacy.”

“Joy.”

“Cindy.”

“Nice to meet you”

“Pleasure…”

The other girl assumes you know her since she’s the link between you and her friends. Little does she know that her name eluded you the moment you submitted her bank slip to the cashier. 

***

Your school had just introduced an online room booking system, which failed anyway. That meant that all rooms were to be secured on a first come first serve basis. So you found yourself in school at 6 because you didn’t want to miss a room. You love residing within campus hostels cause it’s fun. You thought you would be the first one here, only to find a large crowd. Turns out comrades were reluctant to subscribe to the queuing idea. It was hence a mwenye nguvu mpishe situation. Everybody was fighting his way to that small window to hand in their fees receipts. You managed to elbow your way to the front in good time. That’s when you heard this girl holler your name from the horde, beseeching you to hand over her bank slip to the cashier. Who were you to not attend to her? She flung it over to you and you did exactly what she wanted.

That’s how you met. However, the business between you and her ended there. This is your first encounter since then. Thing is, you don’t know her name, but she’s declined to introduce herself. The gaze from her girlfriends clearly tells they have had a group chat about you before, it’s written over their foreheads. So inquiring her name right now will be too late, like giving ‘Baba’ hopes of winning the next presidential elections. I mean, you’ll just be humiliating her before her pals. Isn’t that the worst thing a man can do?

So you flirt about how you’ve missed her. She is so quick to inquire where you’ve been all the while. You inform them about your packed schedule which she objects, she’s like kwenda huko, watu wa journa hu-lazy tu around.” (She softly punches your belly). The ‘watu wa journa hu-lazy tu around’ claim could be true, yes. But it’s not your case. Your schedule can by no means be compared to a bee’s.

The girlie chat is so alluring it sweeps your mind into it. Minutes later, you are seated under one of the canvas in school, chatting and taking selfies. In your outstretched right arm lies an infinix Hot Note. You are the tallest of them, so you assume the role of a selfie stick since none of you anticipated this session to carry theirs. You then calculatedly tilt the phone so that this nameless girl is partially left out of the camera focus. “Woishe Becky haonekani vizuri,” Stacy – the girl in yellow lipstick, protests. You smirk and incline the camera back. Haven’t you just known her name? Effortlessly! With that, you can now leave. 

“Big time lassies, have to leave now.” you beg. Cause it’s quarter to 4 and you are supposed to have recorded the 4 o’clock News. Phone  numbers and hugs are exchanged as you bid them farewell and bounce away. You hear them mumble at your back which is normal for normal girls. 

Hurriedly, you pace into studio only to find Ben on the decks. He’s playing old school reggae. The reggae reminds you one thing – it’s a Saturday, not the Friday you thought. You also discovered clicking a hobby in such instances. A very frustrating click falls out of your mouth as you pack yourself in the seat beside him. That’s when you recall running into your class rep earlier today, she told you she was late for the service. She’s an SDA. But you comprehended nothing because your mind was fixed on the ‘Omera’ guy who was shouting on phone so loudly you could think he was addressing a public rally. You were wondering if he talks that way to her girlfriend on the other end of the receiver.

Later in the night, Becky calls and says she never knew you are that hilarious. You’ve never learnt how to respond to such compliments. So you just giggle and tell her you enjoyed their company and her comic. The rest of that call you discuss stuff that people speak on their first ever call. You proceed into texting, both with her and the other three girls. But mostly with her.

A chat between you and Becky grows into a basic requirement, like peeing just before taking a cold bath – something you can’t do without. Interestingly, Becky initiates most of the texting and chats you up. Her chats are ever lively. They sometimes make you forget to take meals. You realize she’s just some other form of a meal. You develop passionate emotions, you occasionally swap phones so she uses yours as you use hers.

One Saturday you make it to the Nairobi Arboretum where you watch those beautiful birds sing, you touch the young and huge trees, you play hide and seek and run around,  you lie in the ever green grass over there and gaze at the blue sky, and smell the scent of the cool romantic environment. You talk about so many things, she informs you that no one in her lineage is sterile. And that all her sisters have very cute kids. Also that she does not regret meeting you blah , blah, blah.

You get back at around 7 and strike a deal, she should go change and come over to your room. She honors her word. Guys playing Fifa in your room willingly relocate to another chamber upon her arrival. You turn on you ‘lappy’ and select the most thrilling movie you ever had. You watch the movie until her eyes become heavy. At about 11p.m, your big head tells you to take her back –  to her room since she’s literally dozing off in your chest instead of concentrating on the movie on your laptop. 

Her room is on the second floor. You knock for almost ten minutes – she left her keys and phone in there. (Un)fortunately, one of her  roommates opens the door and Becky creeps in. You kneel over the balcony and scratch you head. You grab your crotch, and swallow the pain from beneath your boxers. And curse the doctor who circumcised you barely three weeks ago. You wish Becky comes over another day.

Only she never comes back.

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61 thoughts on “she never comes back

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