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FINE GHEL

When I requested this friend to write a creative piece for my blog he was quick to answer, “Am a lawyer not a creative writer Anyes!” He has this bad habit of debauching my name. Dude, just call me Agnes! I have known him from way back when his law career was still at its infancy, batoto ba law school. We met through my cousin Cecil, also a lawyer. Being a learned person, he brags like he is being paid (eeeh! Ukweli usemwe!) The fact that he hails from South Nyanza doesn’t help the situation. If he is not bragging he is bragging some more!

Our friendship is based on the solid foundation of disagreement. We would rather count dust particles in the air than agree on anything and believe me, none of us is complaining. Because he calls me Anyes (how annoying), I always misspell his name…. intentionally. It is easier that way. His name is Willis, the son of Njagah. A young man with an old soul and a penchant for whisky, dude listens to rhumba , benga……akia ang’owa (who does that when there is Hip hop?) But guys, despite our perennial disagreements, he is a caring friend who masks all his care in grandiloquence and Luo pride, eeeh! Nimekusoma bro.

So anyway, after days of bembelezain him to do the article, he finally agreed but he needed more time to katia himself and ingiza himself box and a few more days to write, edit then finally send (aaaargh! such a diva!) It takes an extraordinary person (like yours truly) with a special strain of patience to deal with his stubbornness. Kichwa ngumu tu! I told him to submit the article in 2 days but because he likes to disagree with me, he asked for an entire week to do the write up then ended up delivering the piece within a day. Enyewe kijana, what is your problem? He went on to brag that he is efficient like that, ati ooh! He can deliver without the pressure of deadlines and all that! Next time I will hire sisal dancers to celebrate the entry of your article in my mail! Thuchulu! The reason behind the tiny font in which the article was submitted in is still a mystery to me. Why dude, why? Willis is also a political analyst so I made it clear to him that I would not publish any politics and he sulked but he remembered the blog is mine, I run this….. Now because his is a good lawyer whose services I may need in future wacha tu niachie hapo! Hehehe!

This week I will publish his work, but spoiler alert, he won’t fail to throw shade my way because, it comes with the friendship, he is the bully and am the good girl. But this dude, will accuse me of being the bully. Guys have you seen me? My innocent little face? I can’t even harm a fly. Am my mother’s little angel c’mon! He will also brag hapa na pale. So without any further ado….

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I had called her earlier in the day. She let her handset ring and didn’t pick up. Honestly, I can’t tell why she would ignore me. She must have been watching her phone ring as she sang along to her ringtone. Some people are just wicked! Or maybe 4.47 pm wasn’t a good time to call. So I waited. Then she made an effort to call back at 4.49 pm. I was still trying to figure out what had changed in two minutes. I too, let it ring. Maybe she is finally being a good girl, returning a call she missed while posing for a selfie with a celebrity. They throng her office those people. She takes care of their copyright interests and rights. She also does a good job marketing them. This is why I let her get away with ignoring my calls.

I had been following up on a license for one of my clients throughout the week. This is why I called Agnes. My contact at the licensing body. She also runs this blog. Okay, she’s more than just a contact person because we go way back. I’ll pass on our story since that could make up an article of its own. (Agnes you realize we have a story together, right? Our story)

Okay, I digressed, the call. I cancelled it so that I could call back. I wasn’t going to risk her spending meagre airtime calling my office landline; lest she finds a way of making me pay up later. After getting the information I needed, she decided, without my permission, to say goodbye in her signature remark.

 “Ooh, get me an in law, will you? I am not growing any younger,” she says amid chuckles.

“Yeah right. How does it feel growing old by the way? Do you sleep better at night? Is that why you are threatening those of us who are single?”

For a moment there she gives me that auntie talk. The one all women pull off until they become real aunts and realize they really don’t have time for newborns that sh*t on anyone because they (babies) don’t understand what loyalty is. Who would want an auntie called Agnes though? Who? At least not my cool kids. Aunt Agnes sounds like the ones who will still be wearing kitenge chokers at the age of fifty.

“Woman, I hear you. You too need to go, toa jam. Once you’re taken, I’ll be up for grabs,” I retort.

That line always sends her into silence (insert loooong evil laugh). So I hang up and wait for 5 pm so I can bio metrically sign off from work.

That I have never been broke on a Friday evening is a lie. Except, I have never been penniless and unoccupied at the same time. This isn’t a good Friday and it sure isn’t here to exchange pleasantries with me. Its mid-month so this isn’t one of those Fridays where we pretend to be classy by catching a drink somewhere at Kiza or Onyx with ladies who can engage one on any topic from the stocks market, to politics, then down to literature only for them to join the rest of the revelers in placing aside values when the DJ plays Bablas. We have been shown things in this city. With all that brilliance, these ladies, would still make Akothee look like an amateur in twerking. I believe Jesus died on the cross for them too.

I had taken my daily dosage of memes so I didn’t think it was a good idea to log onto Facebook, now that I was trying to keep myself busy. Memes are life; otherwise I could literally fall into depression without them. See, it is not enough to have an 8 to 5 job in a fancy office somewhere in upper hill in this city; you’ve got to send, share and receive memes to feel complete these days.

People try too hard to sound intelligent or funny on these streets. This explains why my Facebook timeline is full of half-witted political posts and memes I read seven months ago. Others write too well you fall in love with their posts. Then you make an attempt to visit their profiles to try and get to know them better. You look forward to their posts. You gather enough courage to drop a comment once in a while. At times, all you get in response to your fairly creative comment is a like or at best an emoji. That sh*t is heartbreaking. Hata hatuskiangi vibaya. (I had to throw in this line somewhere). Agnes uses it every time I make a comeback to her taunting. Someone should tell Njugush to look for me, we could copyright that stuff).

Now, imagine the sensation when the person behind the post, a fine lass by all standards, leaves an actual reply to your comment! That feeling is hard to describe. Some people out here get so shocked they fade away for having nothing further to say, others get too excited they take a screenshot of the same and make a post out of it, while others like yours truly just keep the conversation going and sign off by promising to revisit the matter. Next time not on that thread….. but in the inbox.

You guessed right. I had someone in mind. Let’s call her Fine Ghel. I creeped onto this fine lady’s profile, for lack of something better to do. I had talked to her before; we had commented on posts together and laughed off memes. Consequently, it is safe to state that she was aware of my existence. So I hit her inbox.

She took her time before writing back. I know she is online and I am already imagining the worst. I am being ignored. Turns out I am not being ignored, the girl is just busy. Her response makes me feel like my message was long overdue.

She is as witty in private as she is in her public posts, she knows how to keep the conversation going and she is forthright. She thinks I am too uptight, says it to my face. We talk about common subjects of interest. We like the fact that we share a birthday and our taste of music is well, kind of the same. Above all, fine ghel writes complete sentences without unnecessary emoji usage in between.

I realize I am having a Friday night like no other. I haven’t had an intelligent conversation with a lady in a long time. Those ones we have at the bars in between murmurs in the washrooms and bellows on the dancing floors aren’t conversations.

Fine ghel is definitely aware that I have been snooping on her profile, and in her forthright way, she asks me what I want. Fam, how do you tell a fine lass what you want from her in her inbox? Listen, Maendeleo ya Wanaume we need to convene as soon as possible to come up with a standardized response for this question. Save the boy child.

Time flies when you are having a bliss and before we know it, its 2 am Saturday morning.  We have to catch some sleep. I go through our chat one more time before settling to sleep. This looks good, I tell myself. This looks really good. If I put in more effort, Agnes might have to look elsewhere for the next single person to mock. I’m not playing punching bag for long you know.

That night night or rather Saturday morning, I dreamt that I was performing Ed Sheeran’sPerfect’ at a popular joint in town for karaoke. Fine ghel was seated at the joint’s corner. She was smiling. Heck, I didn’t care if she was laughing at me, I still sang.

Okay. This is what I’m saying. Broke Friday just turned fun Friday with fine ghel real quick. Agnes, did you hear that or I wasn’t loud enough? I need you to know I’m making progress.

Sweet Jesus is that you working on my life?

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Guys there you have it. You can follow this brilliant lawyer online here and talk to me nicely if you need legal services.

N/B: Fine Ghel whoever you are, kindly subscribe to this blog together with your entire clan ama namna gani?

 

 

 

 

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