This earth, my brother!

I was never used to getting back home early. I would dilly dally in town for the bus queue to move and also for fare to go down. Sometimes, I just find myself watching those guys who pull crowds in front of the national Archives center. On some days it’s acrobats or preachers or dancers selling their new album and other times it’s politics. This last group is incredible! They have the facts and they make you wonder why they never made it to parliament or other public policy agencies. Can they at least open some portal or even have their own manifesto launch?

As I was saying, it’s only until two weeks ago that I started getting back early. Nowadays, I take the train and since there is no traffic on the rails, am always assured I will get home pretty early. The only motivation has been this cute girl with dreadlocks that newly moved into door number 6, which is just opposite my door number 12. We have been very good neighbors, occasionally smiling at each other without a word. Let’s be frank here, she is beautiful – this one even if she stepped on my food intentionally, I would still eat it and probably apologize to her that my food carelessly got in her way.

She plays very soft music. She cleans her small house all the time often making me look bad because my house sort of self-cleans. Carol used to help a lot but since she got that whatsapp message from Tina referring to me as ‘Bae’ things haven’t remained the same. I called her two days ago to come so that we can talk and she told me, “utangoja sana.” (Meaning: you will wait). So am just patiently waiting.

This new neighbor cooks nice things that make the worms in my tummy keep wondering what my plans are as a normal human being. I noticed rodents and pests in my house are braver lately– the other day I was watching news and a rat came from without, went up the TV stand, raised its head and pecked the TV screen severally. I made noise to scare it but it shuddered not. I then stood up to chase it away but it just got off slowly and disappeared behind my books arranged against the wall. See my life!

Pato, my boy advised me how to get this girl’s phone number. So the other day I waited patiently for her to pop out of house number 6 almost all day long. I had partially secured a little part of my window curtain using the window knob so that I could have a strategic view, sat back and monitored my victim minute after minute.

When she finally came out of her number 6, as usual cleaning, I was also at my door. There is something I noticed when she cleans that is good for me. Well, this daughter of Eve comes out with her ass out and arms stretched on the mop, remember she has this skin color that is easy to spot even in stark darkness and a generous sitting allowance, then she turns to wring the mop to rid it off dirty water. At this moment she is usually overt with her boobs that stick out stubbornly that if you don’t notice them you are just not fisically fit. She then stands to full posture and puts her mop on the clothes line that passes between our houses so that it can dry. Seeing isn’t bad, looking is what is bad – so I just allow my eyes to see.

I stood at my door and made my face look really confused. Then I just found myself saying, “Excuse me”

“Yes.” She replied with her usual smile.

“By the way, I have just misplaced my phone, can you please beep it for me I locate it?” I asked just as Pato had advised me.

“Sawa” She voluntarily answered.

So, ladies and gentlemen, that is how I have managed to be chatting her for a week. Asking her about work, about her day in entirety, telling her how mine was and how work was boring that I just needed someone to talk to. Much of the time her responses are just, “Really?” “Really”  “hahahaha” “mmmh” and those emoji things that I don’t like but I just smile and feel good because somewhere in this same city there is a boy child who hasn’t received any blue ticks for days.

This Saturday was a bright one. As I went to get some eggs to make breakfast, I met Cindy and she smiled at me, swung her braids to the back and gave me a high five. Then she varnished through the gate and locked it behind her back. I gazed back a little more and all I saw was the writings on our gate:

“Gate must be closed at all times for Security.

 Closing time 10PM”

I was happy as I made my breakfast. Cindy’s picture was left with me and I saw her beautiful face every time I closed my eyes. A message popped on my phone and I reached for the phone on top of the fridge. It was Cindy. Wow! I quickly entered my password, entered my second password for the message vault and I was there. I wish I knew this password thing early enough, we wouldn’t have broken up with Carol. Cindy’s message was asking me to go and meet her at the gate for a small favor.

I suddenly felt my stomach was okay and that I didn’t have to eat a lot. So I left my breakfast there just like modern girls left petticoats, put on some better T-shirt, some nice sweat pants, some presentable open shoes, sprayed some deodorant under my armpits and stepped out – the hour had come for the son of man to be glorified in Mutua’s plot. I had lived here for two years now the gods were appreciating me.

By the time I reached the gate, Cindy was just getting off a boda boda and had a gas cylinder.

“Haki help me carry this to the house” she spoke softly.

Before she even finished the words my hands were already on the gas cylinder like iron filings attracted to a magnet. I knew this gas cylinder was a decoy, I knew Cindy just wanted me to enter her house. I was equal to the task and was prepared to submit my nomination papers as a serious independent candidate once inside her house. I appealed to my heart to maintain calm and assured it I will leave no bedsheet unturned.

“Okay, just leave it hapa and haki thanks” she softly said to me as I rested the gas cylinder at the door. I suggested willingness to get it real inside but she also wore that ‘am-okay-now’ face. I heeded.

“You are sure you don’t want it inside?” I fisically asked.

“No problem, imagine. Here it’s sawa” she answered as she grabbed that curtain in her door.

“Babe, come and ingiza it inside” she spoke with her head peering into the house.

Before my own eyes I saw a boy child with a built frame come out of the house in a tight fitting vest and some short. The man grabbed the gas cylinder like a bag of feathers and went back into the house without a word. Cindy followed and the door was closed behind them. Number 6, is all I saw on the green-painted door that gave me a mute, blank face.