Wanja Kavengi
Yesterday at 11:12 ·
If your name is Jay and you live in Westy, and you went to South Africa last week for business and came back this week, and you like hanging out at some place called Brew Bistro, but sometimes you chill at a place called Caramel Lounge, and you have a side chick called Shiks, of whom your wife knows about and suspects lives in South B, and you bought her (Shiks) a car like hers, I just want you to know that your wife accidentally called me thinking that I am Shiks, your side chick, and even though I repeatedly told her that I am not Shiks, she insisted that I was just pretending and that I am a really ugly whore who probably has gonorrhea.
“Bitch, I gotchyo number from his phone!” she told me.
She spoke with a Nairobi accent. I could picture her standing next to the kitchen counter, one arm akimbo and one leg shaking in fury. I could picture her in a floral, see-through blouse (and a black bra underneath it) tucked into a pair of blue, nicely-fitting skinny jeans and strappy heels, probably red in colour. I could picture her pressing her, probably Sony Xperia, smartphone against her ear, and flipping her human hair weave, the one she walked into her favourite salon and said, “Caro, ebu fix this weave ikae like tha one Lilian Muli has. En ma scalp is delicate, so ebu don pull ma hair kama last time.”
Since I could not convince her that I was Wanja, an innocent girl living at the shores of the Indian ocean, I accepted my fate because what if it was the will of my forefathers? What if it was my ancestors telling me that I was meant to be Shiks, your side chick? Who am I to fight my destiny? So I looked up and whispered, “Lord, may your will be done.”
And so I became Shiks.
So I told your wife that I was offended that she called me an ugly whore, because I am pretty hot and that if she went through my Facebook and Instagram, she would see that my cleavage game is on point and my eyebrows are always on fleek. Unless, of course, she meant that I was ugly on the inside, something that I would not deny. She told me that she didn’t need to see my Facebook or Instagram, and asked me why, if I’m so hot, you haven’t married me yet.
I’m forwarding that question to you, Jay. Why? Why haven’t you yet married me? Why are you hesitant? Why are you holding back? For how long will I remain a side chick? Answer me. Your wife also wants to know.
I assured her that I don’t have gonorrhea.
“Also, I don’t have gonorrhea. It’s herpes. I have herpes. But I am taking medication for that and I should be fine soon.”
She let out a scream and called me a bitch for the thousandth time, but I assured her that you and I are not having sex until I am healed of the herpes. She ordered me to leave you alone. I told her I would think about it. She told me that I should stop eating your money and get a life, find my own husband and wait for karma to bite my arse because, “Karma is a bitch!”
“Cool,” I said. “Sounds like we have a lot in common, Karma and I. We’ll certainly get along fine. I’m into BDSM, so getting my arse bitten would be devastatingly arousing.”
She called me a bitch again then hung up.
Jay, my love, your wife is really, really angry, and she swore that she is going to kill you when you get home tonight, so, I don’t know, sleep at a friend’s house. Or if you have to go home, be vigillant. Don’t eat or drink anything she gives you because it could be poisoned. Don’t sleep because she could smother you to death with a pillow. Or if she is as crazy as she sounded, she could stab you with a knife, so when you get home hide all the knives. Wear a bomb suit in case she decides to use a grenade to express her feelings.
I am thankful for the car you bought me, Jay, and I would totally appreciate it if you took it from the fake Shiks and had it delivered to me here. I mean, I am the one your wife hates. My voice will be forever etched in her memory. My phone number has already been distributed to her girlfriends, who will discuss me in hatred, and post angry things on Facebook about side chicks. So forget about the old Shiks and focus on the new Shiks. I am going to fight for you, my love.
Also, I need some money for the salon.