She wore expensive. Wore expensive clothes. The kind that you see in exhibitions going for 5k to 10k a piece. At the risk of sounding like a cliche… she just did not exude the kind of class she hoped she would.
Her perfume would announce her arrival. It was intoxicating bordering on nauseating. Not forgetting the jingle of her car keys. Don’t get me wrong, most women have a habit of holding on to their car keys longer than their male counterparts. But not Wanjiru. For her, it was about achievement. The tell-tale signs of new money.
She was loud. The bank security staff stopped asking her to speak in a lower tone. Si nirikwabia hakueda Enishapai, huyo arikuwa ire resort iko hapo juja… Na si unajua bwana yake anarara na bar maid wa ire bar iko hapo kinoo… eeeenh…. ire iko na nyama shoma Murua sana… aaaaah weeee tiga uana… huyo haniwesi… mwabie akakure ugali kwanzo… hahahahha (I have to make you understand that, even if you were not lucky enough to hear this whole conversation, this laughter would make you want to run for cover.
She always chose a particular customer service desk. Not because, it had better lighting or that the cheap pen attached to the desk glided better, or that perhaps the seat had a better cushion for her ample bottom… nope… but because the officer attached to that desk was candy… so much candy that it would give you diabetes of the eye…
He was tall, dark skinned, his face would be the envy of many tiktok queens… no pimple, no blemish… nothing that would need a concealer or foundation of any sort. His teeth; too white, I dare say. His smile… would get an 80 year old nun, wet. Thank you very much. Then his body… the man was real temple of God. I mean the kind of temple that had enough worship rooms and stood majestic enough to have worshippers climb 8000 stairs to get to the cairn… if you haven’t gotten my drift by now… you are the problem… you are the reason Kenyans coined the phrase… kenya sihami.
His name was John, his friends, family and colleagues called him Jonte. Wanjiru had the hots for Jonte. So she would come in to deposit cash, but will have to count it at Jontes desk or fill in the check deposit forms there… or complete a deal on phone at that desk. She always tipped him good. Every single day her parting shots would be… Na situedee kadrink hapo West? Ama unaogopa bibi? Why don’t you take a break tuede coffee hapa nyuma tu? She was baiting him.
Jonte started thinking about it seriously. He was 26, hot blooded and his boys had all been with older women… or so they claimed. And this one had money… something he was in dire need of. And so, naturally, he decided that the next time she asks, he will accept whatever offer is put on the table.
Utakunywo ka Jameson? She asked. Yeah… natoka works 5ish? Sharp, she was at the parking lot, and he was ready and sharp. They went to a local and started drinking. She called 2 of her friends and asked him to call his friends and not worry about the tab. And so it started.
Next it was lunch…
Then it was road trip to naivasha… when this offer came… he knew he has to prepare. Because there will be an expectation to represent his entire tribesmen. He needed to lay down the pipe and lay it good… so he was ready.
Off to Naivasha they went. You know what happened… then came the sleepovers… then the car keys… and the house.. whenever she went to Shaina to buy more stock…
Suddenly he was a baller. And he looked alot more attractive to women his age. And he got quite a number… he changed them faster than some women changed their inner wear…especially bras… did you know that there are women who wore the same bra for a week? Two even?… okay random fun fact but I digress….
Towns are small. But they get even smaller when you are cohabiting with the baddest ass in town… rumour has it that she has been through 3 very wealthy men. She took them out. How? Well, slap me if I know how and am still a pauper. So definitely town was tiny for Jonte… but he had no idea.
And so one fateful day, albeit after gathering enough intel, she goes to the bank in search of Jonte. Jonte assumes that this was her normal and routine visits and rushes to welcome her as she steps in.
That slap could have been heard inside Fringal’s cave. I am sure people who were on the top floor of that building felt it on their cheeks. I kid you not. It was the kind of slap that would wipe color off your face… Some swear that a cloud of dust was shaken off his face the moment the heavy set hand landed on his cheek. That slap must have awoken the fabled dragon of the east from his slumber… the kind of slap that could get you in touch with your guardian angel… for a minute there… his soul departed from his body, I am serious. His eyes rolled to the back and he fell. He needed needed first aid. Ah, If she had added another one, I would .. you get it right?
I would have thought the slap as the most painful thing… uuuhmmm No! She spoke. She was vulgar and very descriptive… to the point that you actually want everything to stand still so you can be able to walk in your imagination, matrix style… accessing whatever she said as you would a movie. Of course the bank security came to his rescue and she was escorted out of the bank. By no four guards, no less.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned
William Congreve
She made it very clear that she will be waiting. Outside the bank. So they can go discuss his indiscretions at home like a good couple would. He had limited choice and ao after work he walked like an obedient boy to the car.
They drove in silence. She got home and immediately he got into the house she released her hounds. Those beasts looked like werewolves man. By this time Jonte could have shat his pants… but he is a big boy. He is not going to let his ancestors down by cowering infront of a woman. He is african after all. He will not be bowed, he thinks. But the sweat that’s trickling down his face… in the cold of Kiambu town betrayed his pounding heart. I mean it, that heart almost left its cage and walked out on him.
She comes into the house and asks him to come clean on all his indiscretions. She is holding a rubber whip. In a different context it would have served like a perfect preamble for a SNVL movie. And believe it or not our boy sang like the little bird that he was. He said everything. He was not gonna lose his life because he wouldn’t tell on himself. It was simple, if he dies, he dies.
Long story short, he got a beating. A good one. One that would remind you of the olden days when your parents punishment was more like a death sentence. Oh and he was warned that under no circumstances is he to fraternize with the other gender. Not when he is enjoying Wanjirus hard earned money. He was also advised that there is no thug within a twenty kilometer radius of Central province that does not eat out of the palm of Shiz’ hand.
Jonte, mimi you wiro treat me raik the kween that I am. Na kama huwezi kunitreat raik a woman, I will get a few of my friends to treat you raik one.
He knew then he needed to leave town. He was still young he thought. He can still make a living in his shags… He will ask for a transfer back to Western Kenya. He was ready to move there anyway… I mean which man wants to be passed around (unwillingly) like a bowl of mutura in the local mutating den? Not him. His ancestors would turn in their graves. He has a joy stick for a reason… to bring joy to the willing women folk… From his product reviews he figures he has quite the joystick! If you know what I mean.
And that dear fam, is how Jonte ended up in Kakamega Town terrorising anything that bleeds for 5 days in a month every month. They swear in his name. When his name is mentioned they lose their breath… And they love it!!!
And I say… let them enjoy! With all that is happening in this world, shifting weather patterns, novel viruses, political dramas (I won’t even get into that) etc… if there is a girl whose head is spinning from a shattering orgasm thanks to Jonte’s Joystick, I say Viva!!!! You go Girl!!!
The more the merrier… if the world receives positive vibrations, it may just have mercy on us… right now we need all the help we can get.
Godspeed Jonte!!!
lipstickandpen 
Leave a comment