A Rose Called By Any Other Name

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Our heroine Abby, now half naked, lies on a white bed with her long legs open. She has an old copy of True Love face down on her bosom. She was reading the Last Word, some rushed article obviously written by a writer struggling with a deadline (and his ego). There is a lady between Abby’s legs. She’s called Gakii. Gakii has waxed Abby for five years now. She’s tall, waiflike, and cheerful with these long dexterous fingers, a fortune teller’s fingers. She’s the best with hair. Reputable. Women drive from all corners of Nairobi with different types of hairs for Gakii to wax, from soft hair that feel like dove feathers to tough hair reminiscent of elephant grass.

Abby sighs a lot, staring at the ceiling. That jaded pre-bridal sigh. She’s tired of her wedding planner who thinks the wedding is hers. She’s tired of the groom who wants to wear shorts to his wedding because he’s a rugby guy and he wants all the groomsmen, all former rugby guys, to also wear shorts. But they are all Maragoli men so they have these massive hairy thighs. She shudders when she imagines the photographs. This is not how Abby wants to remember her wedding when she looks at her photos. So she has fought it and she has won and now she’s stressed about the sample of napkins that came in the wrong shade of fuchsia. Then there are the bridal jitters – Will she be required to go fetch water from the river when she visits Vihiga? Won’t that ruin her pedi? (She only paints her nails black). Will she now have to learn to cook ugali for her husband, because really, rice, she heard, doesn’t count as a meal to Maragolis. Rice is a side order: “May I please have fish and ugali with a side order of rice?”

In three days’ time Abby will marry the guy who we will call Juma. It will be a garden wedding in Naivasha. One hundred pax. Invite only. That band that plays at Kahama Bar in coasto, what’s their name? Yeah, they will pelt music to revelers in Ankara outfits, a sea of linen, African print and a massive canopy of floppy hats. It will not rain. The sky will remain blue. The wait staff will wear white shirts and red bowties. The MC will be some washed out former TV personality with a paunch. He will crack jokes that have no moisture in them, but the drunken aunt from Kilungi seated at the back will fall off her chair chuckling at them anyway.

The day they come back home from their honeymoon (as Mrs. Abby Juma) she will lie exhausted on the sofa with her eyes closed and ask him, “By the way sweetie, that uncle of yours, the one who kept asking what happened to all the gizzards from the slaughtered chicken, what does he do?”

“Retired. He used to work with Kicomi,” he will say, standing in the middle of the living room, changing the TV channels. “Why?”

“I just found it strange that he would refuse completely to eat grade chicken, is grade chicken an insult to the men in your community?”

He will laugh. Juma laughs like Swaleh Mdoe; small muffled spurts that can go on for days.

Five years later Abby will start driving around with a yoga mat in the boot of her silver Rav4. She will join this group of Zen women who sit cross legged in some backyard in this massive house Lavi, and talk about releasing their inner chi. They will drink cups after cups of chamomile tea and watch videos on how to breathe and she will stop eating gluten and one day he will walk into the house to find her feet up in the air, balancing on her head, a bead of sweat at the tip of her nose.

“Hey, you,” she will screech cheerfully at Juma, “I’m thinking of going to India.”

“Oookay,” Juma will say tossing his car keys in that wooden bowl she bought at Maasai market. ”For jobo, ama?”

“No, a meditation tour, I’m going to discover my center.”

Juma will take a seat slowly. “Your center?”

“Yes, the core of our beings, what we are composed of…”

“You are composed of 70% water, Abby.” he retorts. “I can tell you that and I haven’t been to India.”

“You can come, it will be fun.”

He groans. “Who are you going with to India?”

“Pam, my new friend from the Yoga class?”

“Oh, the divorced one with big feet? “He says sarcastically. “I knew something like this would come up.”

“Something like what?”

“Do you mind getting off your head for a minute!” he spits, ”I’m finding it hard to hold a conversation with you when you are upside down like a bat.”

“What, are my words and letters getting to you upside down?” she says with a playful wink. “Is my P upside down?” He tries not to laugh because he is supposed to be pissed off at this India story.

A month later she leaves for India with eccentric Pamela who picks her up in an old blue Skoda. Two weeks later he picks her up at midnight at JKIA’s International Arrivals. She’s wearing a dashiki top and sandals with straps running up to her knees. Later that night as they make love and he has his big hands around her throat she suddenly holds the hands and says, “Okay stop, It’s too tight,” and he stops and asks, “Oh, I thought you liked it tight?” and she says, “No,” and he says, “Oh did Swami Mahesh say it will destabilize your chi?” She laughs and pries his hands from her throat and feels him immediately grow soft inside her.

Months pass.

One day they decide to go for Sunday brunch. Beautiful day. She’s wearing this wonderfully short white dress with African print behind it. The young waiter stares at her thighs. He grins proudly. Suddenly she says behind these large sunglasses she bought at Sunglass Hut in Cape Town, “I want to tell you something, Juma and please don’t overreact like you normally do.”

“Ati overreact?” he says, “I don’t overreact.”  

“You do, don’t even get me started on that.”

“What’s up?” he asks jokingly, “Oh let me guess, you met an Indian man in Bali? And now you want to leave me for a bloody vegetarian.”

She ignores him.

“I was thinking of changing my name.”

He stares at his reflection on her sunglasses.

“To what, Abby Mahesh?”

She grins and sips her sparkling water. She’s wearing red lipstick. Her chin looks longer since she came back from India, she’s gorgeous.

“I want to revert back to my old name.”

He stares at her. Then he sips his Coke with all the ice melting in it.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like your name?”

“I do, it’s just that I feel like I’m lost in it.”

“You are lost in your name?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

She shifts in her chair and wipes off invisible pollen from her dress.

“Well, I just want to go back to Abby Kilonzo.”

He sits there and realises what she is saying. He looks at her hard and then chuckles bitterly.

“You mean you want to drop my name?”

“Well, don’t put it that way.”

“How do you want me to put it, you want to drop my name and be called Abby Kilonzo. You dislike my name? Is it not cool enough for your Yoga crowd?”

“Come on, Juma, don’t be like that.”

“Like how? Why the hell would you want to drop my name now? What changed?”

“Nothing changed,” she mumbles, “It’s just that I feel like I’ve lost my identity.”

“When did you make this illuminating discovery… let me guess, India?”

She tilts her head and looks at him admonishingly. “Come on.”

“You have lost your identity,” he repeats with a disdain, “Do you also want to lose your wedding band? Have you lost yourself in that as well?”

The young waiter who had been staring at her thighs comes to the table with starters and they keep silent for a minute as he lays down the table. She stares at Juma who’s looking away sulkily. As soon as the waiter ambles away he turns and tells her. “You have not been yourself ever since you met those yoga friends of yours with big feet. Nothing satisfies you anymore, you want more, you are standing on your head mumbling mumbo jumbo, drinking weird teas and your stomach rumbles the whole night because you eat like a rabbit. On top of dealing with this new you, I can’t even sleep with that stomach of yours going on the whole night. Why don’t you just eat like the rest of us Africans?”

She tries not to laugh at that last line. He ploughs on, “Now you want to drop my name. What will you be called, Mrs. Abby Kilonzo? Are you married to your father?”

“This is not about our marriage, which I still want to be in. This is about me, as an individual, I have always done the things that you like Juma, like going for your farmer conventions that I have told you I hate. All I’m saying is that I want to retain myself as a person and not a hyphenated version of someone else.”

They have a very cold and silent brunch.

For two weeks he sulks around the house. Hiding behind his football matches on TV. Mumbling one word replies. Banging doors. When she puts his dirty clothes in the washing machine she can smell sarcasm on them. Three months later she changes her name back to Abby Kilonzo.  Atta girl.

Boy does he bitch about it to his homie in the bar?

Do you know who else might be reading this and saying, “I understand this Juma guy sana”?

CFC.

Of course you know by now that CFC Stanbic Bank is now simply known as Stanbic Bank. They dropped the CFC bit. They didn’t kick ‘em out or end that marriage, they simply told CFC that they thought Stanbic Bank had a better ring to it. We will never know how CFC reacted, but I bet CFC sulked and banged doors and shouted, “Oh, are you saying this marriage is over?! Are you done with this thing right here?!” But Stanbic said calmly, “Now, now darling, the marriage is intact, don’t be like that, stop shouting, the neighbours can hear you. Come, take this voucher, go get a massage, no need to get our knickers in a twist, we are still moving together.”

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205 Comments
    1. you need to read about the types of Rwandan women… that piece had me keeled over and just about to die! Biko is the funniest writer yet!!

  1. Come on Biko. I was going somewhere with you in this story until you cunningly slid in CFC manenos. Stanbic bank sounds good and progressive but we need know more about Abby Kilonzo. Did Juma bang stop banging doors in place of her? I feel like I don’t know why she went to india. I don’t know why she wanted to find her center. And why the hell does she think it is funny to drop a man’s name years into marriage?

  2. “Now you want to drop my name. What will you be called, Mrs. Abby Kilonzo? Are you married to your father?” Hahhaha this killed it.
    I did not see that CFC part coming. Nice read boss.

  3. Witty but I keep on telling ladies NEVER to formally change names when they get married. My mama is Known as Mrs.Juma* but legally nothing ever changed. I doubt if that makes her half a wife! e

  4. What’s up with yoga and drinking green tea? Or going into those programs where poor women eat nothing all day but a blended concotion of cucumbers+grass+sisalfibers+cabbages+cud?

    Whatever happened to pure unadulterated exercising to lose weight then just eating right, rather than literally starving yourself while doing exercises which kinda look like the prime objective is, to be able to lick your butt?

    Stanbic doesn’t approve of detox juices.

  5. Yoga women with big feet. Lol. The only yoga we know of in the village is balancing jerricans on our heads. Enjoyed the read.
    http://www.extralaudinary.com/a-day-in-the-village-is-worth-10-in-nairobi/

  6. The turn that article took! Waaah! Lakini seriously that Juma guy lets Abby get away with so much. I however like how cfc stanbic rolls to the tongue than just the plain stanbic.

  7. so was it about a bank really? fiction? or true story? confused…………..not what i expected. I bank with Stanbic but i don’t give a rat’s ass if CFC is kept or dropped. I simply don’t care.

    1
  8. DO not change your name after marriage. You will sooner or later start resenting him for somehow making you lose your identity. And God forbid if the marriage doesn’t work then there is the drama of having to change it again. Any anyway what right thinking woman would want to be called Mrs. Makobu!!

    1. i DIE LOL! Makobu, you’d be amazed by what lengths women will go to change their status if it elevates them in society even for a tiny little bit

    2. Ok…like that’s your real real name? Damn!m sure no woman would risk being called that… Lol!
      (just kidding)

  9. I love the name Juma-can i have it, instead of throwing it down on the floor? Juma sounds nice, especially on a Sunday.But all these word were leading to a bank? Give me Juma, keep the bank.

  10. I was going to comment how Abby just needed to find Jesus and he would be her everything then she can stop looking for things from India and her name but then CFC…

  11. What a story! The mind boggles at all the imagery…”waxing..dove feathers, elephant grass, hairy thighs, big hands around her throat”..wah!
    Cliff hanger ending though..CFC would only catch feelings if the name drop affects them financially.

  12. Funny and interesting read. How CFC sneaked itself into that humorous story is still a mystery. My mum retained her dad’s name even after getting married. Till now and she is a grandma to a whole football team of nephews and nieces, she still has her father’s name. She is BAD ASS! like that lol. Stanbic bank ain’t loyal HAHA

  13. Nice you got me on that one. How do you think of this stuff? I did not See CFC coming. You slid in that story Like a guy with a virgin.

  14. I can take the winding story leading to a bank I don’t give two shits about, thank you- that cancer month broke me, thought I would never hear Angel Gabby and God exchange banter…si wamenyamaza!

  15. Name changing is a big deal when it comes to marriages. If I do marry my wife will not hyphenate my name I’d rather she keeps her father’s entirely but not hyphenate mine.

  16. When she puts his dirty clothes in the washing machine she can smell sarcasm on them.

    Biko you are hilarious … nice piece

  17. mrs.abby kilonzo are you married to your father …:-):-):-):-):-) thats a winner. well on well mr.forehead

  18. Anticlimax. In my culture, a woman was always known as her father’s daughter. Never as her husbands wife. I don’t blame Abby. Not sure I’ll change my surname when I get married.

  19. America was the place that said, ‘It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter what your last name is, it doesn’t matter if you drink cortaditos, or lattes, or coffee with milk. Here, if you work hard, anything is possible.’ Cristina Saralegui

  20. ‘When she puts his dirty clothes in the washing machine she can smell sarcasm on them’that is the best line have read in a while

    1. That line and the brilliantly twisted erotica leaning imagery… “There is a lady between Abby’s legs. She’s called Gakii. Gakii has waxed Abby for five years now. “

  21. Really Biko, you left me hanging, I was waiting for you to end by saying that this is what has happened to the bourgeoisie of Nairobi these days or some other wisecrack.

  22. It’s not cool to leave me hanging like this Chocolate man. What happened to Juma, what is this finding self that Abby is getting to…great piece. Part 2?? 🙂

  23. My goodness, interesting twist of tale. I couldn’t have seen that coming. A perfect finess, and a good story too.

  24. Will she now have to learn to cook ugali for her husband, because really, rice, she heard, doesn’t count as a meal to Maragolis. Rice is a side order: “May I please have fish and ugali with a side order of rice?”

    Hahahaha proud Maragoli right here Biko…Nice twist

  25. Bikozulu! You will be the end of me for sure! The way the plot has just changed to CFC bado I am trying to wrap my head around it. Haya bas, we get it, it’s Stanbic Bank. Stanbic Bank

  26. “What, are my words and letters getting to you upside down?” lol…Nice piece chocolate man but ended too soon!!!

  27. Oooh chocolate man, you take us to the ends of laughters

    I didn’t see the CFC part

    Ooh what a twist right there

  28. Hahahaha you really know how to catch people Biko…. okay cfc and stanbic are still together, i want to know whether Juma is still sulking?

  29. chocolate man, well done. This is chimamanda’s work kabisa in Abby’s life. what a good twist to the story? I enjoyed reading it.

  30. Biko surely, this story ended prematurely. then you talk of CFC? Aki today I feel cheated. You owe me another story hapana hii nimekataa.

  31. You were headed to CFC all through?….Nice piece
    PS: You made me think of The Mombasa Roots band at Kahamas, now I miss Msa…

  32. You know, I read this for seco nd time today, and I still dont understand how Abby going to India got to do with this CFC thing, did Abby influence that decision?

  33. Do you offer apprenticeship?if no,instead can i do some tasks for your company.tasks that are equivalent to 15k(the charges for masterclass)then i enroll next year? without paying cash.I think you replaced Oyunga Pala.You couldn’t fit in His shoes.

  34. Nice read. Its unfair though to call someone washed out,popularity may dwindle but that doesn’ t take away someone’ s gift. Pray that the word is not used on you someday………are big feet an abomination?

  35. Do you offer apprenticeship?if no,instead can i do some tasks for your company.tasks that are equivalent to 15k(the charges for masterclass)then i enroll next year? without paying cash.I think you replaced Oyunga Pala.You couldn’t fit in His shoes.

  36. “What, are my words and letters getting to you upside down?” she says with a playful wink. “Is my P upside down?”
    I see wat you did there, Biko.

  37. She laughs and pries his hands from her throat and feels him immediately grow soft inside her…..come to think of it Jackson, I think you can write a very romantic book. You knw,like a very captivating one like the ones we used to read under our desks in high school… Lol.

  38. There I was. Snuggled up in a duvet reading a book when I realized, “Hey. I should check my mail.”
    It’s half past midnight and I have 18 emails that I could have read if Gmail had bothered to sync them to my phone. Quickly, I go through the meaningless ones. You know, the” Someone viewed your profile on True Caller” ones.Then I get to the “New Post Alert” mail.
    I am enraged.
    I was literally doing nothing the whole day. I could have logged in and posted the first comment (I don’t know why that’s a thing btw). I could have read it when I was bored out of my mind. But no… Gmail wouldn’t sync.
    So I read this at half past midnight and I’m okay with not having the first comment. I get to the part about there being a lady between Abby’s legs and I have to be honest, my thoughts veered to a place I cannot describe here. *wink

    Anyway, it’s thirty-six minutes past midnight and I’m engrossed in this story only to find out that this entire story was about CFC Stanbic?
    Eish Biko.
    Hata kama.

    *switches off Mobile Data and goes to India to talk to Mahesh*

    https://thispostisabout.wordpress.com

  39. Nice piece. I guess I would have also banged doors for weeks if I were in Juma’s shoes. We, maragoli men are quite hyper-chauvanistic.

  40. You and Yoga!!What did yoga do to you Biko?
    “I’m finding it hard to hold a conversation with you when you are upside down like a bat.”l
    I like

  41. On top of dealing with this new you, I can’t even sleep with that stomach of yours going on the whole night. Why don’t you just eat like the rest of us Africans?” Haha, great one.

  42. “What, are my words and letters getting to you upside down?” she says with a playful wink. “Is my P upside down?” He tries not to laugh because he is supposed to be pissed off at this India story.
    I seriously hate when you want to be mad at someone but they know how to handle you. Nice read loved the twist you gave the story at the end.

  43. “I just found it strange that he would refuse completely to eat grade chicken, is grade chicken an insult to the men in your community?” Nice read but Biko, you left us hanging

  44. hands on throat makes Juma hard!…what happened after going soft in her? could be the reason she opted for a name change!

  45. Do you know how it feels to be walking down the street, and a water filled balloon lands on your head? I don’t but that CFC punchline at the end of this juicy story, that’s how I imagine it would feel. LOL. Curious to know if Juma got over Abby changing her name. Sigh, talk about being left hanging.

  46. Is my p upside down …nice read Niko …never saw CFC thing coming …what happened to juma and banging doors ..finish up ..

  47. Is my p upside down …nice read Biko …never saw CFC thing coming …what happened to juma and banging doors ..finish up ..

  48. Ouch I just got into that guy’s shoe.. And I feel you Juma
    That woman found someone else, izo trips za India aty sijui Cape Town… Get
    Your mind ready

  49. Waooow, something changed after going to india. We need to know what happened to juma.and did abby stop eating like rabbit and doing yoga with friends with big legs..hehehe cant stop laughing. Good story!

  50. Biko Biko Biko, been a minute. totally missed your writing, you never lost your mojo, and like wine you just getting better. totally enjoyed the read. i have laughed yaani

  51. Oh No Bikozulu you didn’t. How can you end that storo there. Bring a Part2 to that Abby’s story…..
    Waitiing…….

  52. Nice piece Biko. We had an argument in the office regarding the change of or in this case drop of name and very people have even seen the advert on TV and many others never clicked it was about the new change! This blog is now giving print and electronic media a run for their money when it comes to entertaining, educating and informing.

  53. Biko, your creative mind is a beautiful place to be in, you hit the nail home better than hummer would, i live to hear you converse, just to know whether your talk has the same ring as your word on paper.

  54. All these Kenyans that keep using the word Ankara when referring to Kitenge God is watching you all kwanza in 3D hehehe. Seriously guys the day my Naija people will start referring to Ankara as Kitenge then I will do the same until then Kitenge it remains when talking to other Swahili speakers/Kenyans for everyone else it is African print. Google Ankara and then Google Kitenge on Google Images and then show me the difference I don’t get the whole Ankara name hype among Kenyans when Kitenge has been working just fine since time immemorial. Err Juma you do realise that the whole changing name to husband’s name ish is a borrowed culture from the Brits which signified ownership of the woman same way you owned cows, goats, a house, farm tools etc so she had to bear her husband’s name in England back in the day to signify ownership. Come slowly boss lol Greek women are required by law to keep their maiden name for life as are women in Quebec Canada. Hispanic/Spanish women keep their maiden names as well culturally and legally. I do not blame Juma for reacting as he did I blame colonization and it’s aftermath that left us with foreign customs some hold so dear it’s like a matter of life and death to them.

  55. No Biko, this rose isn’t a rose by any other name, it wants to be smelt far and wide.. They’re currently causing a ruckus on kimathi street for attention…
    Do you think they want someone who wants their name?

  56. The CFC pitch could have been snuck in much better than that.was an anticlimax to the whole made up story.
    That being said changing names in this era doesn’t even make sense.We get married pretty late now, when you have acquired so many documents, bank accounts, log books, tittle deeds etc with your maiden name it is just too much of a headache.You have to keep prroving you are the same person before you got married. change your ID, passport. aiiieee its never that serious.

  57. hahaha I like the analogy of Abby ‘Mahesh’!! hahaha Juma stoically retains his African self even as Abby evidently progresses

  58. hahaha I like the analogy of Abby ‘Mahesh’!! hahaha Juma stoically retains his African self even as Abby evidently progresses

  59. but I have to agree with the masses, the twist was anticlimactic..a cold bucket of water to the face..let it be known, the people have spoken

  60. The long and short of this article? Change is the only constant in life. People change, corporate institutions rebrand, life goes on regardless.

  61. Crisp. The simplicity of language, the twists. This couldn’t be better. I read your superb articles on every platform in silent admiration. If there was ever a writer I’d want to emulate, then you are he. I told a colleague in the office and she said,’You should meet him, he’s a kindly guy.’ I still look forward to that.Thumbs up, monsieur.