Come morning, I saw my wife, Nimo, peering from the lodging door. Skonye’s boobs had spilled to my mouth
The ‘bubu game’ at home from the resident nagger saw my legs transporting me to Teke Teke Wines & Spirits, local yetu. After three months of curfews and lockdowns, it was time to reunite with the usual suspects and oh! how most had changed, Jeso Kristo.
The counter girl, last time I checked was brown, had dimples. Skonye, was also had tu-nyama from round like a barrel of brandy. “Corona imenikondesha, aki” she said recalling how she became a Mama Fua “watoto wasipate nywele ya brown.” Skonye’s dimples now resemble that hole at the counter sink.
She had issues with her landlord who sent goons “waka ng’oa mabati ya roof then mvua ikaanza!” she said, smiling sheepishly at least the toothy, sunny face was still there, thank God for small mercies.
Skonye, the counter girl, works with Kanana, the waitress. Kanana’s sandpapery voice was also still intact, but the three month lockdown had effects on her big brown seductive eyes. They resembled those of a convict resigned to her fate on death row at Lang’ata Women’s Prison. “Nili sota karibu nika tege K-street…ni curfew ilizuia, mtu wangu” she says in her usual sexy bass. She opened a mtumba clothes, but it was her own clothes she was selling. “Na hakuna mtu alinunua!”
Story zili bamba it was 8.50pm before we knew it. Curfew was at 9pm. Cops came. They ordered that we finish and get home in 10 minutes
Brayo, the joker at the local was also back. He had cut weight after his wife left him. She got stressed seeing him selling nyanya from the boot of the family car. Things got worse when he added nduma and ngwaci and a tray of eggs on the roof.
Brayo and I decided it was a good idea to have a lockdown reunion drink. We ordered mutura ya Sh100 in case cops came calling and found that we were not ‘Kagwe compliant’.
Story zili bamba it was 8.50pm before we knew it. Curfew was at 9pm. Cops came. They ordered that we finish and get home in 10 minutes. The way that drink ilikua inaingia kwa throat these cops were peeing on our tent. Skonye had an idea. We take a crate of booze to one of the rooms at Nayo-Nayo Lodging “hata hawana wateja.”
Come morning, I saw my wife, Nimo, peering from the lodging door. Skonye’s boobs had spilled to my mouth, kwanza her nipple dark at the tip. Brayo’s wife had also decided kurudi nyumbani. Brayo was on the other bed where Kanana’s big brown butt was interlocked with his crotch.
