Last week was an ass by numerous accounts, things went South, or should I say “things went tits up” as Tony Parsons, my favorite British author would say. A bad week is like eating onion rings; it always leaves a bad taste in the mouth. But a bad week can turn into a blog post. So here below is my list of things that put the damper on my week.
1. Jail cat
I come from a family of hoods. Our reputation sores across hills and borders. We are bad. So anyway my cousin Farouk* is in jail. Yes, in the cooler. Industrial Area Prison, or remand if you want. I wrote about it here some time back. But in brief he is in the slammer because a whole container full of crutches and wheelchairs under his watch disappeared on transit to Rwanda in a forest somewhere in Uganda. The judge who presided over his case was having a bad day so he threw the book at him. I see him once in a while because he is a fun person and because we are family and so last week I went over but the guards couldn’t allow me to speak to him. There was a situation or something so I pleaded and bribed but even when they allowed him to speak to me it was through this rustic metallic slot that only showed his eyes. On top of thus there was no privacy because the whole time a guard stood right behind me. Farouk is a hoot but we didn’t get to cackle and all like we usually do. We talked for 3mins before he was hurriedly whisked away. What made me sad were two things; speaking to him through that slot like he was some sort of a dangerous serial killer and the sound his bathroom sandals made on the floor as he shuffled across the empty hall. The indignity of incarceration is poignant.
2. Savanna Café.
Savanna Upper Hill is not known for anything but their horrid service, which is a shame because they have a beautiful garden. I went there to do some writing and I sat for 10mins before a waiter showed up at my table. I was livid by the time someone came up to take my order and I planned to tell them in many strong words that their service was shit. But the waiter who showed up was pregnant, or looked pregnant to me. Now there is nothing as mean as dressing down a pregnant woman, it’s perverse. I couldn’t find the right words or even how to start. Plus she
looked miserable. She carried her pregnancy like an unwanted yoke, a curse of sort. On top of that she was unkempt; her nails had dirt under them and her uniform ill fitted her reminding me of some fat guard at the prison. Lastly she seemed so sleepy; maybe I had woken her up by trying to get service. “How many months to go?” I asked her and she cringed and acted like she didn’t hear. Later, much later, it dawned on me that perhaps she wasn’t pregnant? What if that was just a potbelly?
3…and Don wept.
In the season finale of one of the best drama shows in recent times, Mad Men, there is a scene where Don Draper cries. It’s a jarring scene especially because he cries before his subordinate. “She was the only person who knew who I really am,” He grieves her dead friend, a very powerful statement that speaks of his own identity, something that has always been the elephant in the room. You have to understand why Don crying is a big deal. Don is the uber male; confident, dapper, strong, witty, curt, smooth, talented and randy. He creates ads that his peers swoon over and he drinks his whisky on the rocks. His suits are well cut. And he has many flaws as a man. Many. I have watched him since the first season and suffice to say I idolize the character. And so to watch him cry Is A bit sobering. It’s disappointingly weak for him to cry before Peggy, the office girl. He should have cried in the bathroom damn it!
2. Kiddie laptop
It isn’t news that my laptop is dodo. Some time back the missus bought this laptop that – like most gadgets she buys – never uses. I’m told it’s not even worthy to be called a laptop because of its size. It’s called a Netbook apparently. It’s the size of soap. Lux to be precise. She bought it this little girlie bag that has embroidery of a tendriled plant on its side (which I leave home). A girlie machine. That’s what I’m using now and it’s hurting my street cred. It’s one of those machines that make people question your sexuality as a man. You should have seen people stare at me at Savannah recently, judgmental stares. Sniggers. Giggles. You would have been forgiven to think I had stuck a flower in my hair! I have decided to avoid public places with this machine.
I’m writing this in a library’s hotspot and to my right is a guy with a Mac and on my left is another one with an HP, then there is me on this little, thing banging away. It would have been comical if it isn’t so sad.
3. Bathroom escapade
There are rules in the little boy’s room.
- Don’t stare at another man’s magic stick when you guys are peeing.
- Don’t use the mirror for too long.
- Don’t tell another man, “My phone is buzzing, here hold this for me for a sec I pick this call, will ya?”
So am drinking in this pub and I go to the washrooms to do the necessary and as soon as I walk in this cat gets all excited upon seeing me and all. In my head I’m hoping he won’t want to shake my hand. Anyway all that excitement is not cool, at least not in the bathroom. Anyway he’s like “It’s been forever, how you doing?” blah blah. His face is unfamiliar but we are men and so I play along. He asks how biashara is and I say some days are good others are bad. Then he says, “Now you Mogusu, what happened the last time?”
Mogusu?
He called me Mogusu! I have been called many names but not Mogusu. Clearly I was the wrong man. But since I was sort of tipsy and I didn’t want to burst his bubble I told him things came up “that day”. Are you still on the same line? He asked as walked out and I said affirmative. He suggested we meet up on Tuesday (tomorrow) and revive the project. I said Tuesday sounded like a winner. But later I felt like a jerk misleading him. It felt slightly uncool especially because he seemed genuinely pleased to meet his pal Mogusu. Mogusu if you are reading this keep your Tuesday open.
4. Redds; a clean, crisp lick.
It was the three of us and this girl drinking in that same pub where I go by the name Mogusu. The girl was on the invite of one of my friend’s, a girl he was sort of interested in. She was smart, told genuinely funny jokes and wasn’t bad looking either. My pal was sort of sprung on her because he kept rubbing her arm. Anyway, there is a point in the night when she poured her Redds in her glass and committed an unforgivable faux paus; she brought the can to her lips and licked the droplet off the rim of the can! Yes, I repeat, she licked the rim of the can. (I guess they don’t tell us to pour our women’s drinks for
them for nothing)
Thing is she didn’t try do this when no one was watching; she sort of did it in slow motion like it was supposed to turn on every man in that pub. I watched in amazement as she licked off her reputation. I was so amazed that I didn’t notice that I was ogling. Here is the sad bit. When I looked up I found my pal looking at me. It was not a why-are-you-staring-at-my-woman-like-that-negro; it was more of I-swear-that-was-one-of-her-jokes look. He was embarrassed that we had seen that.
That little act had cheapened his date, and by extension cheapened him. He was now vulnerable. But we never discussed that little event that night but I knew he wasn’t going to invite her again to hang out with us the next time. But if he had broached the little mishap I would have tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. That it was actually a good thing because really a woman who licks her can is a woman who is not shy to use her tongue. Oh hell, who we kiddin?
5. Statements of the week.
But it wasn’t all gloomy. Last night after the AP massacre of Siakago where an AP – bitter that his woman had given someone else his biscuit – shot and killed 10 people, a cop came before the cameras and said, “There were no reported injuries, of the ten people he shot all are dead.” I think he was trying to be fresh and it almost worked!
Then on Twitter, I read an update that said something like, “If you receive an email saying they have an attached picture of a naked Gloria Macharia*, don’t open it. It contains a picture of a naked Gloria Macharia.”
I sent this to five of my wittiest friends and three missed the joke in there. That was a bit sad.