That there are many ways to kill a rat is an indubitable fact of life. A headshot or two can accomplish the task. Stabbing the poor rodent in a situation where proximity in a bloody ordeal appeals to the senses gets the job done too. However, choking precedes all the mentioned solutions, when you think about it. I cannot quite get to it, but it has to do with something along the lines of efficiency being key.
Please lower your hand. My instincts are raising an awareness in me of your impending suggestion of rat trap and rat poison. Enlightened mediocrity, if you ask me. How come you take the bull by the horns almost every day and deem taking the rat by the neck an impossible task? Just spare a moment and think about it. You feel me? Well, if you do not get it, then forget about it.
It is written, “Do not be conformed to this world…”
Brethren, on an ordinary day in the life, I would admonish you with the aid of speech, manuscript, song and dance if need be: do not be conformed to Juja!
Juja. Mention the first syllable of the name and spark a sudden interest in the listener.
“Wawaawaa huko kwa bangi. Niko sure ata wewe. Kwanza wewe huezi kosa,” goes the response.
‘Wow! You must be the drug and substance abuse victim detector,’ goes the response in my mind, but instead I let out one of my famous hearty laughter and supply, “Ahh. Wee kwenda bana.“
To master forbearance is to master peace indeed. But getting back to it, what do you take me for? A ‘chimney’, an ‘exhaust pipe’, a peddler? What if affirmative? What if negative? Bro, chill. At least try avoiding being one of the subscribers to the philosophy of assumption.
If you know, you know. The venue is often a stuffy, jam-packed bedsitter in one of the popular apartments. Konyagi bottled in Gilbey’s Gin bottles in plenty on a surface; the floor always emerges the winner in many cases. Rarely does the famous chaser, Fanta Passion, get the chance to have a share in the merriments of such gatherings. “Chaser ya nini? Chase na mate bana,” being the cause of its absence, courtesy of mkuu, who adds insult to injury by topping off the banter with a little ‘lecture’ on staying dangerous. “Ze bluetooz dewise is connectid a successfulei”: an assurance that gets the mind rehearsing some fire moves to show off once the beat drops; moves which emerge of their own accord from a stoned fellow with innate oomph regardless. And boy, do they move? There almost never lacks the glamorous baby girl whose sole aim seems to be video recording every movement while chanting “eyyyyy” eternally. The phone addict who sits at a corner scrolling aimlessly through zero text messages. The lyric guru (tupause uimbe ama). The inebriated ‘heavyweight champions’, who despite their visible ribs, choose to put up a show due to various reasons or none at all. Not forgetting the city boy who tries his luck with every descendant of Eve present that has the capacity to form a flexible right angle with the torso and the lower half of the body while rotating skillfully to the beat of the music. Needless to say, a wide range of characters is witnessed in such events. By and by, sleeping arrangements are made and you find yourself sandwiched between four bodies, two on either side of a creaky four by six bed. How you survive should be made the ninth wonder of the world. Evening passes and morning comes. That is just one of the many Fridays. But at what cost?
Picture this: trying out various eateries (Big Knife Restaurant in the CBD has a special place in my heart and just so you know, I am always down to peel those potatoes when the bill surpasses our financial ability at the time, but I believe you can also run as fast as I do, maybe even faster); book club meetings (if I begin expounding on this, it will be another article and I am almost running late on submitting this one); visits to museums, art galleries and theatres (manifesting a visit to Photizo Art Gallery as manifesting works for the ladies, or so you say); attending concerts (there is a kind of exhilaration in watching live performances if you feel me); getting in touch with nature ( at least I get the honour to mention JKUAT botanical garden here).
There are those times when you go on an adventure in your mind. It is extremely pleasing, so satisfying, more like food to the soul. Then you are shaken out of your reverie. It is at that moment that one question lingers, only to be brought back to reality by that eagerly awaited Friday phone call. Well, duh.
Kwani niko inchi ingine?