Am typing this after reading the latest hate mail from an anonymous person who is vehemently against Supergirl’s relationship. Yaani my grandma had lots of admirers like this? Why do people like standing the course of true love? Supergirl, better hold on to your man well well because the storm is yet to come. As for me, you know I fully support the relationship even though some of my family members think that this romance is sheer nonsense. July is finally here and it is the month Supergirl’s awaited boyfriend will land in the 254 (I have always wanted to say that), I will be auditioning for dancers to receive him at the airport donning in sisal skirts, hit my inbox if interested.

Anyway, on one Sunday, my sister Nyawanda and I passed by the local market after church to buy groceries. The market was bursting with activities as Sunday is usually the market day. Merchandise of all sorts was paraded and the sellers were chanting prices to attract buyers. On our way out of the market, a certain hawker who was selling clothes grabbed my hand and pulled me so close to himself that I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. So what did I do? I gently asked me to let go of my hand as I did not see the need to aggressively use haptics to sell, because I was not interested in his merchandise after all. Makosa mistake!!!!! Shit hit the fan real good and within no time my sister and I surrounded by a group of around 8 male hawkers with not so good facial expressions

In such situations, you feel like the metaphorical blanket called the blood of Jesus has been yanked away exposing you to all the harm that the world has to offer. It is in such situations where Nyawanda will always look at me with the most sincere eyes and tell me, “Agie usiogope, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” It should be the other way round because am her elder sister, but somewhere along the way, genetics decided to forsake me and I ended up with a smaller body frame than my two younger sisters. So Nyawanda’s words managed to comfort me and the goosebumps that had begun to show on my skin despite Kitengela’s scorching sun disappeared for a split second.

“Sasa unaringia nani?” the ‘highly offended’ hawker spat. Ok wait a second, so asking someone to let go of my hand, my God given hand, the hand that I wash daily and oil with my cocoa butter lotion, the hand that I lift in the air as I sing Hosanna to the Most High, the hand is part of my body, the hand in which my blood flows carrying nutrients and oxygen, the hand that clearly has the same skin tone as my body, the hand that hosts fingernails that look like my father’s, God damn it! My damn hand!!! Is kuringa? The hell!! All historic, pre-historic, biologic, genetic, spiritual and aesthetic evidence confirm that the hand is mine! All I did was to gently ask him to let it go of my hand and by gently, I mean as gently as you sing a lullaby to a half asleep baby. “Mwache!” Nyawanda retorted. He let go of my hand but then caressed it and let out a hearty laugh which was escorted with more laughs from his squad. I was disgusted and I wanted to hurl some impious words at him but he had a battalion that was ready to bring down ‘dame anaringa.’ He had reinforcement and all I had was a 0.5 GB frame, a palpitating heart, goosebumps that kept flashing like a faulty bulb and a strong willed sister with a short fuse.

“Anaringa na venye ni mfupi!” One of his gang members shouted. I stood there like a helpless hostage and wished that the ground could swallow us and then God would send invisible hands to slap them and teach them to respect other people’s hands. Let me tell you, si they showered us with insults? One even told me to get a sponsor to buy me a weave. That day I was rocking bantu knots which I settled for because I was tired of going to the salon. I wanted no one to touch my hair, I was tired of the trifling gossip in the salon. By the way, isn’t it funny that the gossip monger at the salon usually has a short hair cut? Her only business there to report the happenings in people lives and nothing else. Before getting the knots, I consulted the person in the mirror and my forehead made it very clear to me it would not cooperate with any hair do that would involve a visit to the barber. With that information I wanted to tell this dimwit that I foot my own salon bills hence a sponsor would not really be necessary, but then again, arguing with a fool makes a you fool so I thought that maybe, it would be best if I kept that wisdom to myself…….for my own consumption. This guy got me thinking, but si weaves were bad, I mean they even have a society formed against them MAWE (Men against Weaves). Isn’t it funny how society always wants to prescribe to women what they should do with their bodies?

After the ‘hairstylist’s’ advice, another followed to tell us that he kisses madem wakuringa like us, as his favorite pastime. I was already sick of this circus but before I could apologize, my sister shouted back, “Then why don’t you come and kiss us!” Hobeeee!!! You have finished us Nyawanda! I thought to myself so I asked her to apologize so that we can walk away with no injuries, but Nyawanda doesn’t apologize if she is not sorry, that’s just how she operates. “Unangoja? We are dying to have your kiss!” She added. Did she just say we? I don’t want that dude anywhere near me, you are alone if you like him Nyawanda. To our surprise, the guy walked away saying “Kwendeni huko! Hata hamna sura!” Ok wait, so he wanted to kiss us but then discovered we were ugly? Interesting! “Heheeeeee! Umeshindwa na kazi?” Nyawanda asked him as he walked away. I don’t know about you but this girl is crazy. By now, I could hear some people from the gathering crowd laughing at the guy.

Here is the thing about drama, it is only fun when you are watching or acting it. Being at the center of it, unless you have a hopeless addiction for attention, is horrible. Now the battalion had one soldier down, I thought that they would just walk away and continue with their business because this was a futile war, shock ooooh! One of the hawkers walked up to my sister and asked her “Unajifanya mjuaji sana eeeh?” This is the part we should walk away but Nyawanda had an answer for that question. “Si ujuaji, ni venye tu sipendi ujinga?” Jesus Christ!!! Hewoooo!! What is wrong with Nyawanda? What will I tell my parents is this guys descend blows on her? That I helplessly watched some hawkers beat up their daughter into a pulp? “So unadhani mi ni mjinga?” The hawker asked. “Sijaita mtu mjinga, lakini kama unajishuku, ni sawa tu!” Nyawanda replied. This is the point the hawker had enough. No he had it way beyond his limit! His ego couldn’t bare Nyawanda’s responses anymore and the chuckles from crowd made the situation worse. So he stretched his hand towards her. I think it was an attempt to hit her but to his rude shock, my sister pushed him away so hard, that he fell on the battalion member behind him who also fell.

I wanted to laugh because, to be honest, it was really funny! The rude bwoy himself was down! Nyawanda stood there patiently waiting for him to get up. The crowd roared into an incessant laugh. “Yaani unaangushwa ivo chini na msichana?” I heard a woman ask. This is not the point you leave, no no my fren. It is the point you stay tuned for more! I wanted his sorry face as he rose from the ground. The two morons managed to get up on their own and walked away from this spectacle with the humility of a political aspirant on a campaign poster begging for votes. Within no time, the other gang members were nowhere to be seen. It’s like they magically vanished.

We walked out of that market feeling like heroes. I was so proud of my sister and I also felt so safe with her. Her strength amazed me. Every time I introduce Nyawanda to people as my sister, people never believe it. We don’t have any resemblance so I totally understand their doubt, although there are people who say that our voices sound similar. This chic and I have been through a lot together from bullies wa mtaa to mum’s beatings and through it all, she has always had my back. We are so different like our parents and probably that why we disagree on a lot of things but I have always admired her strong character, in fact I want to be like her when I grow up. As for Nyawanda, you are crazy, really crazy my sister! But it’s a good kind of crazy.


2 thoughts on “MARKET PLACE DRAMA”

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