Saturday the 4th of June arrived. I lazed in the house the whole morning pretending to read the Saturday papers but my mind was at Alfajiri. So I just sat there and meditated. Earlier on I had got an invitation from Kasamu to join him for choir practise in his church. But I declined, telling him that I wanted to spend time with family. I did not want him to join me because that Friday we had drunk a lot at Lalaamkahapa Bar, where Katimba, the barmaid who gives us personalised customer care service took good care of us. And we went home on all fours.
I remember two months back when Kasamu’s madam had not left the country for studies and I had taken him home, the scene enacted in my presence was not the best. We arrived home completely sloshed. When we got to his home, to show what kind of Jogoo he is in his homestead, he had called out to his wife, “Mami, fungua ama nirudi kwa Katimba”. He used a popular phrase that Whispers always used, which I think in this age, is a tired phrase based on the answer Kasamu got from his madam. God rest Whispers in peace. To deviate a bit, I wonder why God only takes good people. Look, Whispers, gone, Wambui Kabiru gone, Magigi, still alive, Kasamu, Still breathing and farting trouble! @Mjoro, still drunk six days later, just from one seating! The world is not fair. Anyway, as soon as Kasamu had finished that statement of afunguliwe ama arudi kwa Katimba, hell broke loose. It is like his wife had been waiting for an opportunity to squeeze his two balls.
‘Ati what are you saying, urudi kwa nani? Who is that and which woman would accept a jalopy like you. A junk that is unroadworthy? A jalopy that does 1 kilometre for 2 litres! That must be a very useless woman. Hata ukipewa mbwa hawezi kuchukua wewe. His wife had stopped the tirades when she heard me cough just to announce my presence. She had greeted me and thanked me for bringing the ‘dog’ home. I sympathised with Kasamu, though I knew the same treatment could as well be awaiting me. But even with that he has refused to be sat on completely.
The get-together at Afajiri was just the right thing for me when I wanted to be alone. I arrived at 5.30 pm. Drinks were flowing quite well. @Pablo kept spiking my malt. @Mjoro was still talking in low tones. The only person whom I could hear his voice was @Pablo, but I think it is because he was the one serving the Famous Grouse (FG)!. Food served...nice Mbuzi. More drinks and more drinks and more drinks. Things got to a climax when @Mnjoro sttod and said, ‘ kwani jina si jina, kusema ni kusema! I am Mnjoro” and we all clapped. Others followed suit by revealing themselves. I must say I enjoyed myself too much. I had the opportunity to sit next to @Leona...a wonderful lady. I wish @Kenyalyrics did not have to hold her that long! Kudos @Famooz, @McDoba and @Leona...
At 11.00 pm I found myself getting happier and happier, merrier and merrier. This prompted me to reach for my phone. I was either going to ask Plato or Kasamu to join me. But I quickly eliminated Plato because he is sat on by his wife. Numerous efforts to salvage the situation had borne no fruit. We will be having a meeting next Saturday to see how Plato can be helped. He is such a bulky and well built man I wonder how a small wife like the one he has can scare the hell out of him. But I think it is the mouth that runs like those KICOMI shirts. Those who were born yesterday, we used to have a Cloths factory called KICOMI.. When she opens the mouth it is all fire. Anyway let’s wait and see the outcome of the meeting. Kasamu was free because his wife was away. But he had to attend choir practise in his church so that the women there will say how good and moral he is when they call each other late at night to gossip.
He was still awake. He had decided to stay indoors after the choir practise. I narrated how I had found myself in a pub after going to pick mails from the post office. I asked him to join me as I was loaded and wanted to reduce the money I had that night to a manageable level. He asked me to give him 20 minutes. We arranged to meet at Zimaz restaurant. If you club and you have not been to Zimaz restaurant, then you have not clubbed and you are not a clubber. Zimaz restaurant is one place to visit in one’s lifetime. Why? I will provide answers.
If you want to see white people who have escaped prison sentence in Europe and America, go to Zimaz. Infact if you have ever watched ‘Escape from Alcatraz’ , the three guys who escaped and were never found, I think I have seen two of them at Zimaz. I have seen an escapee sporting a Tshirt written, ‘Oklahoma Penitentiary, kitchen department’! Who is that if not a prison escapee or one on the run?
If you want to see white men who have escaped from mental hospitals in Europe and America, go to Zimaz.
If you want to see sick people who have notoriously refused to take their medication, go to Zimaz.
If you want to see pastors who prepare their Sunday sermons in a bar, go to Zimaz.
If you want to see a few of Ms Nancy Baraza’s respondents for her PH.D research, go to Zimaz.
If you want to see Zonkos bodyguards, be at Zimaz after 2.00 am.
If you want to see whites who have been barmen back home and are now heading NGOs in Africa, go to Zimaz.
If you want to see women ranging from size 8 to size 10,000, go to Zimaz
If you want to listen to the best Congolese music and where the lady dancers gyrate only that particular part that TABASAMU girl showed the whole world the other day, go to Zimaz.
...Zimaz, a very exciting place, but you can only go there with somebody like Kasamu or if you see me and I tell you which tailor in Industrial area will make for you a metal underwear with a padlock!. Otherwise don’t attempt to go there!
Back to where we were. We sat at a corner and ordered something. Since I was a few kilometres drunk ahead of Kasamu, I ordered for him 4 helpings of Sambuca, followed immediately by 2 malts and then I spiked the malt with Smirnoff from my water bottle which I always carry with me as part of my emergency kit. By the time he was through with the malts, he was at the level I left @Mnjoro. I wonder how @Mnjoro got home. His wife and dogs and cats must have taken cover when they saw him. Not that he was armed, but because they must have thought the world had come to an end, where it is written that during the last days many funny things will happen and people known to you may turn out to look like wild creatures. They must have thought they were seeing Nebuchadnezzar when he was eating grass!
It is so funny how our women can stand us. And we are that stupid to raise our fists and hit them. Sisi mashetani... Bure Kabisa!
So there was Kasamu, looking like @Mnjoro. In that state Kasamu becomes wordy and philosophical. He started by telling me, “what if only the fingers did the walking and nothing else”. I knew what he meant right away. His wife having been away for two months and him being a man of strong ‘moral’ character, I knew what he meant. He told me he was tired of squeezing mangoes and avocadoes in supermarkets and imagining that it was the real thing! Attempts to make him look at that picture of the Tabasamu character did not help!
I spotted two ladies seated a few tables from where we were. I asked them if they could join us for a drink. Ladies there never refuse an offer. They stood up like their seats had an electric current running through them. After a few niceties, Kasamu concentrated on one. I kept the other one busy as he stated what he wanted. They were to sit in the car and have his ‘fingers do the walking’, what @Njung’e would call ‘carpet walking’. I told him that there should be nothing else other than the fingers doing the walk. And even with that he had to use gloves. I went to the boot of the car and brought out an emergency kit. I took out two gloves and handed them to him, reminding him to have them on as he walks all over what we all saw with the Tabasamu girl. Ten minutes into the walking I decided to peep just to make sure that he had not unzipped his pair of trousers. His thing was almost tearing his trousers. It was like a mounted umbrella! I pitied the man but now what else was he to do?
As I was walking back to where I was keeping watch three policemen emerged from nowhere. They peeped inside the vehicle and saw Kasamu with his fingers doing the walking around there. They asked him to come out. “Are you two having sex inside the vehicle”? I looked at Kasamu’s finger and saw that it had not just done the walking but it had measured the oil level! The mark was there! I knew at that very minute Kasamu’s big head was not working since his small one was up. I rushed to the scene and did what I think will be my greatest intellectual act of this year. You see if you hang around fat people, you automatically become fat. Spending most of my time with thinkers, I had also become one.
“Excuse me’. I told the policemen. “He is a doctor. He is a gynaecologist and the lady he is treating was itching too much in the club. He saw her and told her he could treat her” Then I heard Kasamu say, “Magigi, bring a thermometer and a pair of surgical pliers”. I have never laughed inside myself like that...!!! A pair of surgical pliers...That was the climax!!!
I heard the Askari say,” Kazi yenu madaktari ni ngumu sana kuliko yetu, very difficult indeed. Even at night you are treating people. Endeleeni na kazi”. And they left.
If those cops pass their psychometric test, then our country has gone to the dogs.
By the time I fished out those two items Kasamu wanted, the policemen had gone. The time was 3.00 am. Kasamu cleared with his patient and we zoomed off....
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