“Unakunywa soda gani?” (Cindy knows you and whisky have nothing in common). It is the first time you are attending such invitations so you aren’t sure the best drink men order when they take out their girlfriends. Though Cindy isn’t your girlfriend, neither have you taken her out. If you were a cocktail fan, you’d swiftly bark “leta Heineken!” And Cindy would smile and bend over and take out that big Heineken flagon in there and stand it on the glass table in front of you. And you’d grin and bite your index finger and tap her wide ass and assume she’s your woman. And she would raise the volume of the music system and lift you from your seat. And you would take the floor and dance and twirl around the room and forget what brought you here. But that’s not the case here. Like I’ve said, Cindy is not your girlfriend, and you don’t drink. You also haven’t learned the latest house or pop music dancing styles.
So you have to tell Cindy the brand of soda you prefer. But you can’t risk burning you CV (consider the Kiswahili version) by ordering a feminine drink – things like Fanta and delmonte and novida, or generally juicy drinks. You are a man and men don’t drink juicy things, at least not in the company of girls, they can only do that when they are with fellow dudes – indoors. You hold your chin which has just started developing black fibre, possibly because of the cool Rongai environment that has seen the beard sprout. You then lift your right leg and rest it on the left limb.
Quickly, you grab the remote on the table and press the pause button. Game of Thrones has just reached a very interesting scene, which you don’t want to miss – this scene where this Mzungu guy is frantically embracing this other woman. You haven’t been a fan of GoT so you actually haven’t crammed these characters’ names. When you finished arranging things, Cindy asked what program you like and you said you’d be fine with any. So she selected this channel and that’s how you found yourself watching Game of Thrones. Hardly ten minutes into it, you already feel you’ve watched all its preceding episodes. So you don’t want to miss any scene. You press the pause button twice and notice the screen isn’t responding to your command. You almost yell “shit! Hii kitu haiwork!” when you realize that you are not watching a CD. The movie is on a television channel so you can’t pause it. You slowly return the remote control on the table and giggle. And privately, you pray that Cindy doesn’t learn what you were trying to do. What if she realized that you were trying to pause the movie and shouted “hey, that’s a TV channel, not the laptop you are used to!” Nonetheless, you decide to forego the scene so you can check for a male’s drink from Cindy’s fridge.
Cindy is squatting beside her open fridge, you can only notice her rear view from where you are seated. She is wiping the many brands of drinks in the refrigerator to remove dirt from them. From this view, you can totally admit with all your right senses that God really meant to create Cindy. That God did not just wake up one morning and order Nebuchadnezzar to mould her. No. He took His precious time and invested His best in Cindy’s physique. He put whatever was required wherever it was required poperly. And that God wanted people to define beauty by just looking at Cindy. You have never got time to study her, it’s the first time you are doing it. Chunks of saliva effortlessly slide down your throat. She suddenly turns and catches you unawares. She’s probably stunned by the loud silence in the house so she turns to check up on you.
“Kuna chipo! Oh, Sorry. I mean, nipee Nescafe.” You stutter.
You shake your head and subject it to a few slaps in a bid to recall what’s going on. Her turning to look at you actually disoriented your mind. You didn’t expect it so you just sputtered whatever came of your mouth. Finally, you come to.
“Hehe, bring me sprite.”
“Kwani what was in your mind when you asked for chipo and nescafe?”
“I just wanted to break the silence horrifically,” you lie. “By the way how is your boyfriend doing?”
“Come on, I told you I’m single.”
You chat as you gulp down your sprite. Later you suggest that you now have to leave cause it’s getting late and you haven’t penned this week’s post, among other reasons. It’s almost eight in the evening. What should keep you here when you were way done with what brought you in Cindy’s house? Mmh? Is there anything else that should keep you here? Stop looking me with that eye. Like we mentioned earlier, you didn’t come here for a date or something near that.
You’ve been friends with Cindy for a year now. Your friendship with Cindy is not one of the kinds of friendships that are anchored on Cindy seeing her assignments done by you. Neither is your friendship (I’m avoiding the word relationship) based on going out on Fridays or counting the number of girl/boyfriends that each of you has. Your friendship is the kind that you just meet on the ways and say hi and part. And occasionally one of you texts the other “hi” and from the other end comes a reply “I’m good, you? Btw I heard you were looking for me today?” then the other says “not really, I just confided to Anita that you looked really beautiful in your new apparel.” Then the other replies again “oh really! Thankie” then “anytime, otherwise have a blissful night” and the other responds “sleep well (of course accompanied by some emoji).” Something like that. That’s your friendship. Nothing deep nor shallow.
So earlier today, Cindy called and requested you to come over and help her arrange her house. She just relocated to this new house yesterday so she wanted you aid her arrange furniture and generally to help her put her crib in order. You didn’t question her request because you are friends and friends are meant for each other’s service. So there’s no other reason you found yourself here other than that.
Cindy hesitates and insists that you’ve to stay longer, which is against you wish. And that she will only release you the moment you’ll state credible enough reasons to set you free. Later, you manage to convince her. It’s now five minutes past nine, the night is gradually growing. She makes for her bed room to change and perhaps put on a hoody and escort you. You make the last sip of you sprite and place the empty bottle on her glass table.
She comes back in a minute’s time. Her entry betrays your wish to leave her house. You even wonder why you at first wanted to exit her house. She’s dressed beyond description. It’s like the difference between when a phone has a screen protector and when it lacks one. I mean, the difference is the same. Whether with or without a screen protector, we clearly see whatever is displayed on the phone screen. Ok, you didn’t come here for that reason but now that opportunity has knocked, who are you to let down that opportunity and whatever it comes along with? After all, how many young and old Kenyans out there crave such a chance? And you, you are here, opportunity has just come to you with all her children and grandchildren and is asking you “young man! Do you need me or should I go back?” and you on the other hand are like, ‘hey Opportunity, please hang on a bit, don’t go.” Cindy’s eyes say it all. “Man you have to do something,” you talk to yourself. Actually, this is the very least offer you expected from Cindy your friend. And just to prove that you are not gay, you stand from your seat though you are not sure who between you should make a step towards the other. So again, your legs get glued to the floor.
Her phone rings, that’s enough chance to advance your moves since her phone is just on the table near you. You pick her ringing phone and slowly walk to her. She ignores the first call but the caller persists. She picks the third call and says she’s not around tonight.
“Fungua mlango! Did I buy you this house so you can bring in other stupid boys?” the caller rants.
“Aki siyo hivo babe,” Cindy pleads.
“You think you can play with me! I neglect my family to take care of you and…”
“Aki sorry babe.”
“Fungua mlango! Malaya!”