Finding eX

Gerrarrahia!

So my neighbour had a heated argument with his hot girlfriend a week ago (well, it’s now some time back because this blog post was envisioned and first drafted sometime back ). The kind of argument that ends with tomorrow I don’t want to find you here...Take your stuff and gerrarrahia kinda argument. The kind that brings to light the inadequacy of his member (na sio ile member ya Equity Ikuate.)The kind that makes you mute your TV or radio and capture every word. It was quite an argument. The kind that makes you forget Obama was here, the Pope is coming and that a billionaire jackass is running for president in the US. Yes, that kind of argument. One that makes you forget important news items like the fact that there is no god like Jehovah... anymore and that pastor Nganga should get a full refund from his English teachers and use the cash to buy himself a real reo accent from Capirro. It was huge. Every equation in that argument that involved CHILLS rturned a zero...

Next morning, my neighbour wakes up from the couch, showers, brushes his teeth, fixes himself a nice cup of coffee, suits up and goes to work. (I don’t live with them so I’m just assuming this was the chronological order of events.) The hot girlfriend wakes up several hours after the cold has gone back to Limuru. She showers, shaves, brushes her teeth, looks at her boobs in the mirror, draws back her eye brows, Syokimanga’s her whole face and head and then sits down to her breakfast. . (I don’t visit their place after the boyfriend has gone to work so I’m just assuming this was the chronological order of events.) As ordered, she packs her suitcase and gets ready to gerrarrathea..................................

AfterMATH

Boyfriend comes back in the evening. Finds everything intact except that there is a slight rearrangement of stuff. There are hammer marks all over his electronic devices. The hot girlfriend must have tried to fix any wear and tear before leaving. He fumes and froths on the sides of his mouth and then lets out a war cry. The good neighbours gather to offer solace, advise, expertise and most important to see what the hot girlfriend did so that they can later tweet and blog about it under the hashtag #NeibahoodManenoz. If you ask me (and with all juu respect), they are all idiots these his good neighbours. They would have gone to luhya hell had jehovah not died so suddenly and mysteriously...

“At least she did not steal anything valuable.” Retorts one good neighbour. We all exchange silent gazes. The kind of gazes that affirm we all think she is the poster girl of the idiots establishment but nobody has the balls to say it loud because she is also hot. Using a hammer to create moon crater mosaic on electronics and furniture is definitely better than stealing. I can see the good neighbour from third floor thinking.

“Sasa utafanyaje?” There is always that good neighbour who asks rhetorical questions. This one was not hot and I saw my other good neighbours trip over each other in a bid to provide a Majibu za Makanga/walevi  kinda answers.

“ataita kesha waimbe kumbaya my lord....idiot!”

“Unataka aite Sonko Rescue Team? ....mscheeew!” Only hot girls are allowed to deposit their grey matter with a bank of their choice and walk around with nothing between their ears if they so wish. Only hot girls...

 “Sitaki maswali ya ufala mimi. “ The victim exploded. “Huyo ma-*insert word that rhymes with the Swahili name for a continent above Africa* amebeba documents zangu afanyie nini?”

In her bid to leave in a hurry before the boyfriend returned home, the hot girlfriend had mistakenly taken with her all his important papers that separate man from beast. His birth, KCPE, KCSE, KCUE, good conduct, KRA pin certificates. She had also taken his Kenyan passport, his original ID card, an assortment of ATM and credit cards...Any document that had the word certificate or important written all over it was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll find her if it’s the last thing I do!” Our neighbour concluded.

Nebuchadnezzar 

Another good neighbour offered his condolences. If it was him, the girlfriend would have brought the documents intact the following morning and paid for all the unsolicited repair work she had done with the hammer. Not because he would have called her and asked her to return the documents.  She would have returned them voluntarily and while at eat make a meal out of an acre or two of Kidero’s green grass. The good neighbour told us that ukambani was not only famous for Maendeleo chap chap. He told us that if you wanted Recovery chap chap, then Kitui was the place to be.

Since there is always such a neighbour who tries to peddle the power of dark magic in such an occasion, nobody took him seriously.

If Recovery chap chap was a reliable method, that green patch where mzee's mausoleum is, Uhuru park and many other green patches surrounding all the 47 county halls would be gone by now...

It was getting late and all the help we could offer in terms of giving an ear while offering absolutely no solution was exhausted. Two by two, we started going back to our boring lives. My next door neighbour, Olang, whom I have always suspected to be a smart arse was holding a piece of paper as we walked up the stairs. It was a photocopy of the victimized neighbour’s KCSE certificate. He had a D- in mathematics. So my neighbour Olang asks me solemnly (I now know he was telling and not asking)...If our neighbour Kariuki couldn’t find that X back in high school, what makes him think he can find this eX? I’m sure the Nyumba Kumi Initiative’s code of conduct states somewhere that a neighbour who portrays no sense of humour must be treated with suspicion and reported immediately but I reckon that Olang understands. The distance between the joke and my house door was negligible so there was not enough time left for me to do the math. At the time of going to press, our good neighbour, Kariuki is still busy trying to find eX...