”Achoksi! Leo kunawaka!” Onyango is not the type of frog that hops in broad daylight over nothing. When you hear him say leo kunawaka – on a Friday afternoon, the least you can do is to butt in with “eeh! tunaruka wapi?” As you prepare to water your throat tonight. It’s not like he is your childhood buddy, or like you shared a cube in Ngala House in Sigalame High School or something, that made you friends. No. It’s just that you helped him screw Miss Rongai the previous semester. Yes, you fixed them up given your great charm and wit. When I say you helped him nail her I don’t mean that you literally witnessed them do whatever it is they did. Or worse, that you fastened Miss’ legs against Onyi’s bed as he confirmed Miss’ inner beauty.
What I mean is, Onyango threw a bash in your honor that evening, just a few hours after the purported incident. See, the likes of Onyi have no time to spend a whole night doing this shit. You ask them why and they’ll tell you that that’s kinda old school. A five minutes break within lectures is just enough for him to execute his business. Anyway, so he summoned you to his place that Tuesday evening. You had to pause the movie series you were following so keenly on your lappy and go over. His room looked neat and organized. Only he didn’t give you time to sit.
“Achoksi, maze nimegonga ile kitu!” he bursts. He has never respected your name to call it properly. You know what he’s insinuating but you’ve to subtly confirm. “Kitu gani?” You probe. “Ile nanga bana. Si nlikusho morning?” he barks. You are still not convinced. You can’t just trust this Onyi man that way. “Sure?” He logs onto his Whatsapp and feeds you the postmortem of their deed. You don’t understand why people have to discuss such stuff on phone. Anyhow, you slip your eye into their recent chats which are full of compliments. “Game yako iko juu… hope you’ll consider a rematch… (emojis)…” Onyi never disappoints! You both smile, you give him a ‘thanks for the job man’ gaze, he’s so happy. Laughter ensues. You shake hands again and embrace and pat him on the back. “Maze thanks.” He adds. “So, what plans for her?” you ask as you gulp down a Delmonte and take a pew for more.
You’ve been great friends since then. Among the few contrasts between you is that you are sharp upstairs while he’s well financially. He told you his mom is a sister to Obama’s cousin’s cousin. And that’s where your friendship is founded. The chat during that bash also unravelled one thing, that Onyi is a tap and leave fella. You know what that means?
Today it’s taking down at Club Shadows in Ngara. Onyi doesn’t go clubbing in Rongai for the obvious reason that on Fridays, these bars look a lot like makeup classes. I mean, you walk in a club and half of its occupants are class mates and one or two overdrawn lecturers. Onyango told you about this particular incident that pissed him off and fueled his turning against relaxing in a club in Rongai. He said, the shame of watching his lec rub his crotch against the girl he really respected in class made him quit attending bars this side.
So you hop in Shadows and occupy the two spots adjacent to the counter. Onyango orders “Coke lita moja na Tusker.” Hardly served, three fine chics wobble in and stuff the table just across. Onyango drools. But today he isn’t that hyper. He’s not in his usual amiable mood. He isn’t in the mood to holler them. He’s just busy with his tusker. “Jamaa, you still thinking of the four Sups? Relax.” You console. He hates exams and cats. Actually that’s the only thing that bothers him. He wanted to be a Camera man and just travel all over taking pictures, but his mom couldn’t allow that. His mum wanted her only son be an IT guru. She thus forced him to enroll in Information Technology. That’s what Onyi tussles with in campus. Don’t even mention the re-sits he’s taken so far.
“Man! Ni Sup tu zinaku-stress hivi?” you mock.
“Anita bwana!” He mutters. Anita is the hot CU secretary.
“Si you told me you almost won her? Ama she wants you to quit drinking?”
“She blocked me bwana.” Onyango hardly completes sentences without inserting in ’bwana’.
“Sasa si you just move on?”
“Achoksi bwana I love that girl.”
“Hehe, since when did Onyango start loving women?”
“I’m serious man.”
“Kwani what is just special in Anita that you’ve not seen in the many girls that you’ve laid.”
“Maze Anita is an exact replica of the girl that introduced me into this thing called love.”
“Onyi my man! So you’ve also loved before! What happened, she caught you cheating?” You are always verbose during such moments.
He guzzles another cocktail glass, a third one actually. “It’s a long story Achoksi.” He pleads. Clears throat, “I caught the girl that meant the whole world to me in the act with my buddy.”
Clears throat again. “It was so heartbreaking that I attempted a futile suicide. And for a whole week I didn’t taste any food, not even a glass of water. I had to be hospitalized and later taken to a psychiatrist. Achoksi bwana I hate discussing this particular phase in my life. That breakup almost slayed me. It took me two months to fully recover and get a real kick. If I’m alive today, let me drink bwana.” He fills another glass of rum, lifts it up and stares at it with one eye almost closed, then quaffs it all. He then hits the empty glass back on the table and gnashes his teeth. “Mmh? My friend, you are the only guy I trust around here. And believe me, I’ve never been emotionally attached to any girl since then. After that incident, I opted to employ the guerilla warfare tactic used by the Mau Mau fighters, I just hit and run.”
“This changed the moment I encountered Anita. I still recall our first talk word by word. She has never left my heart.” He clenches his left torso. “That girl resides within me, she’s all over in my eyes.” Fixes his eyes on you, you are still on your second glass of Coke. “That girl. I love her. Achoksi, help me find Anita.”