Last week’s post received a really encouraging response. So before I proceed with this week’s article, I want to thank everyone who read, shared, liked and commented on the post. Many thanks to the guys who sent me inboxes with their sentiments and even those self-appointed editors who pointed out typos and sent me screenshots of them. For those who told me to continue writing, let me state categorically that I plan to do so. In short, am super grateful and it feels good to know that you can spare some time and brain cells for my stories.
Moving along, there are two people i.e. Nyangi and Jojo who keep threatening to take me court if I continue writing about them. They say that their lawyers (non-existent) will be seeing my lawyer (also non-existent). I thought long and hard on how I should name this article and I settled for the above title because the people who have been threatening me always give me a reason to write about them. Check this three scenarios out.
Last Tuesday, I got home a bit late as I was swamped with work in the office. Nyangi was already in the kitchen preparing supper while listening to Justin Bieber’s ‘Let Me Love You.’ I know, Justin frigging Bieber! Let’s roll our eyes together *eyes roll* If we all downloaded Bieber’s music then what would the radio stations play? Huh? Anyway, I still went to say hi before I could take my bag to the bedroom.
“Dear kitu gani? Hebu kuja hapa nikuone vizuri!”
“Nyangi, this is the part you ask me how my day was!”
“Geuka nione kama izo vitu umebeba hapo nyuma ni zako!”
“Nitakusema unanifunza tabia mbaya”
“So checking that back pack ni tabia mbaya? Awuoro!”
“Naskia njaa. Hakuna kitu naweza bilo (taste) yawa? I change the topic”
“Msichana mdooogo lakini ikukuja kwa kurarua? Small but dangerous!”
That day I had gone to work with Toshi (my laptop) because she was very sick and the IT intern had told me that he would fix her if only I smiled at him nicely. Just a smile guys and my laptop got fixed, easy! I went to drop my bag then came back to the kitchen.
By now, Nyangi was on the second Bieber jam and because I have an excellent taste in music (this is a scientifically proven fact), I asked her to let me take control of the playlist. This request was followed by an unnecessary debate which could have been avoided if she had let me be the DJ. She suggested that we listen to Little Mix but I thought we should try AKA and Anatii’s ‘Don’t Forget to Pray.’ Nyangi is not a hip hop head so she objected and also said that there would be no Khaligraph she instead insisted that we try Hailee Stainfeld’s ‘I Love Me,’ it’s a good song but because we were here to disagree, I objected. “No, how about we listen to Stonebwoy?” I asked. She said she doesn’t know Stonebwoy. I suggested ‘Ameni’ (A South African jam whose lyrics I don’t understand but I totally love. It was produced by a female track producer, I am fascinated by track producers by the way) but she was having none of it, instead she suggested Ken Wa Maria’s ‘Fundamentals’ but I preferred Jackiwa’s ‘Life History’ which she still objected. But let me just say that my favorite lyrics in the latter track is, ‘Unajifanya kunguni, unyonye nani damu?’ “OK fine! Nyashinski,” I interjected but there was a problem, she wanted us to listen to ‘Malaika’ but I wanted ‘Aminia.’ We debated on this for a while but couldn’t seem to agree or compromise. Finally we settled for Pentatonix. What a waste of time!
The following evening, I saw a black thing in the store as I was going to get flour. Next thing I know we were huddled at the kitchen corner with Nyangi fearing for our lives.
“Agie umeona nini wewe?”
“Kitu tu ingine ya black!”
“Ni ya black sikuiangalia poa. Ama tuite Jojo?”
“Jojo hayuko! Itabidi umeenda kuiangalia.”
“Aaaii! Wewe ndiye mkubwa hapa!”
“But wewe ndiye umeiona!”
“Saa yenye huwa unaniintroduce kama small siz na tunatoshana, huwa unafikirianga nini? Please big siz walk the talk now!”
“Nkt!” She sneered as she fearfully walked towards the store.
“Whatever happens don’t die my sweet sister! Don’t die!” I yelled back.
She tiptoed into the store and after a panicky search she asked,
“Ile paper bag ya black ndo unaogopa?”
“Wewe uko sure ni paper bag?”
“Si ndio! Hii ni nini?” she asked holding the black paper bag.
Blame that on my eyes not me. If we had called Jojo, he would have marched into that store with all the courage even though deep down, he would be freaking out. You see African men can manifest all other emotions but not fear. After finding out that the thing we were terrified of, was a black paper bag:
Jojo: Wasichana wakubwa kama nyinyi mnaogopa paper bag?
Nyangi: Uliza huyu Agie hapa!
Agie: Guys! We are still family remember?
Jojo: Family? Ong’err mfupi! (Pointing at me) na wewe ong’err mrefu! (Pointing at Nyangi) Nonsense! Let this be the last interruption. Najenga taifa na mnanisumbua hapa? Ong’eche!! (He would then storm out of the kitchen).
Nyangi: (looking at me in the eye) Eeeh! Big eyes that don’t see!
Last Friday, I was about to throw away the broken tea strainer in the bin when Nyangi asked me wait because she thought it was unfair to toss it the bin after it had served us for such a longtime.
“Agie that tea strainer deserves a proper send off!”
“How?” I asked
“Just hold the tea strainer I show you”
“OK.” I said, eager to see what madness she had planned this time
“Orangutana!” She said amid tearless sobs
“Wait, now you are speaking in tongues?”
“That was his name!”
“The tea strainer now!”
“Hobeeee! Nyangi uko sawa?”
“Hapana! Can’t you see Orangutana is gone?”
“Mshike umlilie basi!” I said handing Orangutana to her. What kind of name is that anyway?
“No! We must burry him properly” She quipped insisting that I hold it or rather him.
“Nyangi, there are better things to do!”
“Orangutana!! Why did you go? After serving us all this time? Who will sieve our tea?”
“Hallo! There is a new tea strainer!” I interrupted her professional mourning.
Before I knew it, she had pulled me to the door of the kitchen so as to commence the official sendoff proceeding for Orangutana. We walked towards the bin as she dramatically and tearlessly wept. Finally we placed him (it) in the bin and Nyangi covered it with some papers then gave me a hug. I don’t know about you but this is either madness or too much love for tea. We then burst into an incessant laugh and my ribs still hurt. To be honest with you, I kent! I gara leave!
*****Orangutang, Orangutana, Otanguran or whatever they call you. Peaceful rest or rather recycling.