A man at the end of the bar lights a cigarette then shakes the fire off the burning matchstick. We are at Tatiz Bar, restaurant, barber and car wash, seated outside on the curved verandah overlooking Muthangari Drive.
I got a call. The man on the other end of the line said. “Professor Ngugi wa Thiong’o is coming into town next month. Would you like to sit down with him?”
What do men do when darkness beckons? When winter closes in on them? When their unhappiness starts making their fingernails grow slower and their pillows get harder? When their wedding rings become hollow metaphors,
Life thrust marriage at Frank, like you would a bribe in the hands of an unwilling official. He didn’t go looking for it like some men who plan engagements with a ring, bended knees and starry eyes.