MALAYA WA NAIROBI

After a long long sabbatical, the blog is back and I hope you will like it even more. There might be typos and such things but please excuse me and let me know on the corrections to make. Leave your comments too. I would realllly love to hear them……thanks guys and if you love it recommend to others cheers.

Disclaimer *The events here are just works of fiction and do not represent true accounts

Nairobi is an interesting place. Those who have been here for a long time can attest to that. Its Friday 6: 30 p.m. , the city is alive and bubbling. Ties hang loosely as both young and old Nairobi working class men file from their offices as they prepare to hit the clubs. The buttons on the ladies blouses, drop from 10th floor to Mezzanine 1 :) and the condom shoes are quickly replaced by World Business Center 4, 000 bob stiletto heels. Clubs, in a bid to attract the most patrons, turn up their music to levels that make the angels in heaven have to keep on re shuffling the furniture.

My girl Joan and I had just left the office sad. The boss had promised to pay us today and we were quite ecstatic about getting some money for the rave. Mr. Boss called from “ Industrial Area” at 6. His excuse? There was too much traffic to get back to town and we would have to wait till Monday for our Salaries. Come on sir! This is the third time you’ve used that one ! Lame!…. Is what I wanted to say but heck! I still needed my job.

Other people seem to always have more fun when you are broke. Java on Koinange street was packed and I almost put my face on the glass begging to be invited in. No one had called with a drinking plan and the only plot left was to go home, Kiambu. Joan and I walked into Mr. Price and all other fancy stores chilling for fare “ to go down” I had a sock in my purse and Joan had 80 bob :( 0r 70 I think.

Just when we had gotten into the matatu, the call came. It was Joe, my friend. He wanted us to meet him at Winkers ! Who the hell goes to Winkers? I can tell you who does…broke people who have no money.

“Shukisha wewe mjinga!” Joan shouted at the Conductor who had already instructed the driver to drive on when he heard us saying we wanted to get off. Abduction Nairobi style.

The driver was adamant and didn’t stop until we got to Globe roundabout . That was after a heated exchange of words where if I can remember, someone-a woman I think- in the matatu said “Si uwashukishe dereva hawa ni wale Malaya wameitiwa kazi . Wacha wakaibe mabwana za wenyewe ”

K Jesus! Nairobians are so frustrated they just jump into anything they can to help them forget about their troubles.

Twenty minutes later, we were at Winkers sipping Cold Tuskers and drowning Tequilas, the matatu incident completely forgotten. Joe was with two other guys and a chic by his side :| That emoticon means I had the hots for Joe , you slow one! So, I sat there brooding jealously as Joe and the chic cuddled and made out. All these thanks to being broke.

The two guys sat strategically so that one vibed Joan and the other bored me to death. I was really trying to listen to him but Joe and his chic were distracting me! At one point, Joe who was short of change asked me for a hundred bob and promised to give it back before the end of the night. That is where all my problems began.

At around 11 p. m. miss thaing’ had given Joe a hard on and the drink-till-morning- drunkard wanted to go ‘home’ (read wanted to go fuck that ugly weave off the lass) . When you have 100 hundred bob only in your pockets, believe you me its all you think about. So I remembered mine.

“How about that sock,” I smiled trying to make it sound like it was nothing.

“Errr…Njoro si you’ll give 500 bob to Mo coz I don`t have change. I`ll give it back kesho,” Joe stammered eyeing the massive booty on his mama and winking at us.

“No problem man,” Njoro (I know weird name) my man for the night said waving Joe off.

500 sock was good. Truly Jesus was with me tonight. Three hours later, a lot of beers drunker, things got out of hand. Njoro`s hand had developed “Crawlophobia”. This my friends is when a drunk dude` s hand sets their goal on one target “up your skirt”

I was drunk but not enough to let a stranger’s hand go up to “Heavens gate” In fact I was beginning to throw “ hell” at him . Joan was busy making out with the new boyfriend.

“Let`s get out of here ,” I said literally pulling her off the guy’s lips. (LNo! this is not cockblocking readers, my thighs and kitty are at risk here… hallo )

“Wh….y?” Joan stammered her lips automatically falling back on the guys

Shit! Joan can be so stupid when she’s drank! Nkt! Pombe sio maji!

“Can you give me the 500. I want to leave,” I said to Njoro trying to sound nice the first time that night.

“Five…hu..hu..hundred gani? Mi….m..i kwa…ni ni baba..baba..babayako,” Njoro asked banging his fist on the table.

“Si Joe alikuambia uniaptie five hundred na ukakubali,” I felt hot tears congregate in my eyes

“Mi..mimi si patii ma..laya pesaaaa,” Njoro said before his head fell on to the table.
“Leta basi one hundred,“ I shouted getting Joan and her boyfriend’s attention.

“Ni nini bwana …pa…pat..patia msichana pesa yake aende akalale Malaya ya Nairobi bwana! Joan’s boyfriend bellowed . Three times tonight night I’ve been called Malaya K

“Sweetie now why you calling my friend a Malaya?” Joan asked him planting kisses on him.

“Ata…ata wewe ni Malaya ya Nairobi …bure kabisa.Kwenda! acha sisi tukatafute Malaya weng..ine wzuri kuwashinda,” Joan’s boyfriend said pushing her off his laps.

“AiiI sweetie…,” Joan began to protest

Luckily! Unlike stingy Njoro, he threw 1000 bob on the table. I pounced on it , grabbed my coat and dragged Joan out.

We should have taken a cab to the stage, but a greedy me decided that I could pocket 860 bob if we walked instead. Staggering in our heels we walked up Moi Avenue past sweet sellers, hookers, drank people, beggars and the crowd that raves outside Sanford. We were just about to turn to Koja when a cop jeep pulled up and seven or so plain clothes cops jumped out.

Out of sheer stupidity and drunkenness, Joan attempted to run and I, naturally run after her. Woe unto us!

“Shika hao Malaya askari,“ One officer yelled.

The police officers attacked us like hungry hyenas dragging us by our short skirts into the back of the jeep. Here we were hurled with all sorts of nighttime delinquents…thieves, drunkards , loiterers, prostitutes etc Joan was trying to explain to the officers how we were innocent and they kept ordering her to keep quiet but she just went on.

After what seemed like a lifetime but was only 2 minutes, we pulled up at Central Police Station. I had heard stories about cops stealing from guys so I quickly tucked away the 1000 bob into my panties before getting off.

Joan was slapped really hard severally for talking too much and was now sobbing incessantly as we left our belongings at the front desk. Finally we were locked up. Our cell was completely dark but I could see some girls(prostitutes) sleeping on the floor comfortably .Heck! They even had a blanket!

The walls had inscriptions like “Naomi Mwende was here” “Malaya Dora alikuwa hapa” “Fuck gava” “Karao in ubwa(yes ubwa)….Lord ! There were actually people who prided themselves in being locked up; Prison alumni’s .

The door was not locked from outside and a couple of minutes later a short gangster in sagged faded blue jeans, an oversize torn coat , a blueband cap and torn white sport shoes walked in.

“Niaje masiz,” he greeted(insert bonoko accent)

“Poa,” I mumbled switching on my ghetto accent

“Mna ka fegi hivi,” he asked

“Sina . Mi ata sivutangi,” I told him

“Uko sure hapo hakuna ka kitu,”he asked

I nodded. To my surprise the small bastard began to touch me. Three other guys had just walked in. Joan had fallen asleep on the floor and I was now terrified.

“Unanishika nini…si nimesema sina. Kama ningekuwa nayo ningekupa,”I said to the bastard trying to sound brave

“Hii si ni noti,” he said tracing the money on my panties

“Acha nikutolee basi”I said in anger when I noticed he was actually going to get under my skirt and take it.

“Jalibu kupiga ndulu uwone si tutakulape hapa. Na usifikilie kalao atakuhelp,” one of the other guys said

I was ready to give up the money…it didn’t matter anymore. Monday morning, three days later, we were arraigned in court. Apparently they can’t get you out on Saturday’s. We paid the bail with our salaries and learnt a huge lesson. If you don’t have money, Nairobi ladies. Go home and sleep. It is much much better than three nights in a cell or worse.

About wordsynthesis

I love to write intermittently...it goes and comes!

Posted on November 20, 2011, in Fiction: Short stories. Bookmark the permalink. 18 Comments.

  1. Literary Prodigy! Prima Dona!

    Looooove it to smithereens! The graphic explanation, crude terminology & humour! What w/ buttons descending to mezzanine & bonoko accents! Matters ‘ubwa’ too! Get it published! Magnum Opus right here!

  2. kwul advice ! tamaa ndio huua fisi ! Kareeee !

  3. So, you gave up the note? Smh. Free fobe ni mambo bad! A lady needs to have money in her purse .. No need to be at anymans mercy. :-) endelea kuandika

  4. I got one thing to say. Cover up ladies! You don’t have to dress skimpily to feel sexy and no one will ever have to mistake you for prostitutes.

  5. sululu something sounds familiar loiterers

  6. Creative write-up
    Though I have always been curuious why girls are liberal with some demeaning words like ‘malaya’ and ‘b!tch’ amongst themselves….

  7. *curious
    And you really should do a write up on the ‘about’ page. About you, that is…. :)

  8. *curious…
    what time did you guys change from your friday casual wear to your short dresses??
    Nice piece tho’…

  9. Hahahahahahahahahaha Nice, that should teach Nairobi chicks to stop their Gold digging behavious, good one.

  10. nice read……i had already created the gruesome scenarios…hehe..cheers

  11. F*!K YESH! you had me at condom shoes, KEEP EM COMING!

  12. Prostitutes should know that they will not live young to practise hii umalaya forever have to be more janje kusare upoko

  13. kuwa na cd is not a guarantee ya HIV maze kia msee akae rada uishi life poa na siku mob kujitambua pia ni smata

  14. It is an amazing read. The raw fashion makes it interesting!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 4,026 other followers

%d bloggers like this: