Deported from my own house - pt 02

So, in this part one, my laundry services were withdrawn without notice. We trudge on…

I never really had problems washing my own clothes, but I was concerned about the message the sudden change would send across the plot, where I was quite respected for my purchasing power and generosity. I would have done it if we had an indoor laundry room, but the one we had was communal and so, asone of my circle friends would say, I would have to, uhm, wash my dirty linen in public.

True to threats, my clothes were not washed for two weeks. So on one particular Monday, I found myself at the end of the re-use and recycle system and thus unable to go to driving class – and/or work. I picked all my clothes one by one trying to find the one that would come last in the competition of most dirty, but all of them appeared eligible to win. I took them outside and repeated the same exercise with little success.

So I sat on at the door (Our plot was that design of two rows facing each other and a rough cement floor) and started pondering my next move. It was while seated at that door that a godsend solution appeared.

One of the neighbour girls- pretty to a fault, stay at home and of unknown economic ventures- passed by on the way to the washing sink. She wasn’t overly light. She had this colour that appears at the top of a cocoa mug as you stir. Some winding curves that would have a speed limit of not more than 50 Kph if they were on a highway. They still had that limit, as no man could look at her in a hurry; you had to do so with eyes turned to full brightness and tongue sweeping the floor.

I never had the courage or chance to rope her into my purchasing generosity for obvious plot factors. But I said hi whenever we found ourselves at the tap at the same time.

Noticing how miserable I looked, she inquired about my well being.

Aren’t you going to work today?

I don’t have clean clothes.

Si unilipe nikufulie?

How much?

We nunua tu sabuni, hiyo ingine najua hatuwezi kosana.

Never before was a business deal sealed so fast! I was especially glad she didn’t ask why the woman of the house wasn’t doing my cleaning. I was asked for a hundred shillings to buy soap. I said no, that’s too much. Not that I would have had problems parting with even a thousand, but I wanted to make conversation. I was told she would also need omo and jik for whites and sta-soft for rinsing. I said health, afya!

Suffice to say that evening I was one of the cleanest and best smelling folks as I walked into the local. As people came in sweaty from the day’s hustles, I walked in with freshly cleaned, sta-soft rinsed clothes. Complete with that fresh ka-cold of clothes fresh off the hanging line. And a promise from Kagwiria, the neighbour who washed my clothes, that I would pay her when the time was ripe. She would show me when, she said. I had a really nice time at the bar that night- so much so that I didn’t leave until 1 a.m, almost totally wasted.

The sight that met me when I got to the plot almost brought me back to full soberness. A ghostly looking figure sat right at the entrance to my door. After summoning up courage for 15 minutes, I approached slowly.

All my clothes lay in a heap outside the door. As did my shoes. I was at least glad that it was not a gaing awaiting me, but that relief was shortlived.

It made zero sense. Yes, I was late, but then what? I knocked on the door without even trying to be violent. No way could my first knock have woken a sleeping person, but the reply was prompt. ‘Enda ukalale kwa Kagwiria!’

It all made sense at that point.

Blame it on the alcohol, but I actually considered going to seek shelter at Kagwiria’s. A pair of Safari Boots outside her door complete with a smell that signified a quite fresh arrival, however, changed my mind. The sounds coming from inside closed that case.

My second, third and fourth knocks went unanswered. So I decided to waste the night away and get things sorted in the sunrise. I went through around six drinking stations before the sun tossed its blanket the next rise.

By the time I staggered back it was almost seven-thirty and madam was on her way out. My clothes still lay outside. I thought it perfect that she was leaving as I arrived as we wouldn’t get to argue. But she had different ideas.

‘’Where do you think you are going?’’ she asked as I held onto the door frame.

‘’To bed.’’ I murmured.

‘’Your bed is in Kagwiria’s house. She who does your cleaning must handle your everything.’’


I again considered going where I was being told my bed was, but a side-eye glance revealed saunya-guy was still around. It also provided the estimate of the shoe size to be about nine-and-a-half. So I did my best to contain the situation.

‘’Just let me sleep, I will explain later,’’ I pleaded.

‘’There is nothing to explain. Na unanichelewesha kazi by the way.’’

Before I could respond, she spotted the landlord’s goon, who would be called a caretaker today, entering the plot. ‘’Soldier, huyu mtu hapa ananiwastia time, anataka kuingia kwangu cha nguvu na naenda kazi,’’ she shouted.

Soldier didn’t need a second invitation. Within a fraction, he was on me like a bulldozer on an X-marked building. The awakening neighbours opted to catch the drama through their slightly parted curtains. Not even those who had benefited from my alco-philantrophy tried to intervene.

I really think Soldier had a long-standing dislike for me because my assertions-turned-pleas that that was my house for which I paid rent did nothing to make him ease the grip on the of my now not so sta-soft trousers. I’d be lying if I said my toes touched the floor of that pavement as I was whisked out.

I tried to take a rest on a bench outside the plot once Soldier dumped me outside, but he informed me that I was not welcome there either, or anywhere in the vicinity.
[RIGHT][FONT=Courier New]
Soldier made it clear about the pathI was required to take going away from that plot[/FONT][/RIGHT]

So I stumbled back to the local and played move and shift with the cleaning lady as I tried to catch some sleep and she her washing.

I don’t know how the story got back to my old man but, two days later, after hiding incommunicado, I was at the back of his jalopy headed home.

And that is how I learned that what you think are your rights are only your rights as long as those who wield power share the same thinking.

The General has fallen.

PS: The said period is a grey area of my life until now unknown to even my closest friends. No corroboration whatsoever can be made independently.

I vowed never to live in a woman’s house

Grammar 101%

Pole sana brathe.

nice hekaya… wanawake ni saitani.

Nice hekaya, Pole Kwa masaibu .

Hii ndio shida ya mahouse wife .

Hehehehe, I can relate to some aspects of your story.

Pole sana mkubwa. Lakini najua saa hii umelearn lesson yako. Never trust a woman that much.

Nice one bro. Your initials MM, na hii deportation maneno mko fifty fifty. Tafakari

leta hekaya , i can smell it from far

Nice one this Sato.
Looking forward to more hekaya from you.

swafi kaka braza

too funny. this made my day. bwahahahahahahahahahah!!!


So ulitoka nyairofi na paperbag:D:D…But, atleast you did not go back home in one.

Reminds me of a time when I was living in an Sq in Ngumo…

On one fateful Saturday I organized my birthday bash, wakakuja unruly crowd ya over 20 people,… mbuzi from dagoretti ,loud music and lot’s of pombe from barracks (beer plus Vodka- can’t recall the brand name, but it was Russian and used to be in 1 liter bottles with a deep red label…ah Borzoi) , Pombe sio chai, to say that the guests misbehaved would be a serious understatement, vomiting and yelling all over the compound till very late in the night…

On Sunday I lay in state nursing my hangover hata sikutoka, then nikaenda job Monday, kurudi jioni nikapata all my stuff had been dumped outside the gate… I tried talking to the landlord akakataa… had to spend the night hapo Galexon.

Tuesday nikarauka job nikaomba off, nikarudi Ngumo, that mathe refused to even put my stuff inside the gate. Nikaenda Kilimani police station, reported the incident nikapewa @pamba wawili, nikawapatia za mecho. The landlady kuulizwa why she’d dumped my stuff outside the gate, akaanza kuongea mbaya and insisted that she would not give me back my rent or let me back to the SQ, however the cops convinced her to let me to put my belongings inside the gate,but still outside - kwa driveway.

The cops wakanisaidia tukaingiza kila kitu while she continued throwing jibes. The cops then told her that she had to accompany us to the station to record a statement giving her side of the story… Kufika Kilimani akatupwa cells.

She was released on Wednesday jioni after settling the my rent in full and luckily by that weekend nikapata kanyumba hapo Ngong rd.

I forgot to mention that it was the landlady that organized for the AFCO booze as she was getting a cut.

I hope I haven’t derailed your thread but I too know that feeling ya kurudi after works and then you have nowhere to go.

Nice Hekaya mblo.Kagwiria ako wapi anioshee nguo?

:smiley: :smiley: :smiley: :smiley: :smiley: :smiley:

Good one!

Nice hekaya buddy, albeit sad but peppered with memorable quotes. Some lessons can never be taught in any formal classroom.

I once tried that(living in a chicks house)… Maeen it was something next to hell

Leta hekaya, some people can learn from your experience.