The State Guests

 

    I stopped going anywhere with my childhood buddy Mutwiri because the fool once got us booked at police cell for trying to romantically hit on a policewoman while on intoxicated throat.

You see, beer and thinking mostly don’t agree, worse is when a woman is involved.

    This afternoon we decided to visit “Swallow Bar and Rest” a placed we loved to spend our unproductive time in, discussing on issues of national importance. Things like the high prices of petrol. The fact between us no one owned even a bicycle didn’t hinder us from utilizing our rights to make noise like the rest of the Walevi. As we entered the dimly lit den, we were welcomed by the huge sticker on the counter inscribed in Capital red letters “BRO’S FOR HOES”. The usual Demethew tracks were busting through the air accompanied by a thick cloud of cigarettes smoke.

    We settled on unoccupied table at the far corner of the bar, and Mutwiri waved Wambo short for (“Wambui”), the bar maid to come and collect our orders. She came swinging the bottle opener on her hand, with her long strides which makes her walking style somehow interesting.

“Mutakunywa nini?” she busted through the air.

“Usual poison”. I spoke. She teased Mutwiri jokingly saying that he owes her “gikombe” as she went back to the counter to collect our orders. We escorted her with our eyes wide open as we grazed on her “behinds” with every step she took. Man, that woman was blessed with some sitting allowances. Though she was not much graced with a beautiful face, I think God in His mysterious ways saw it fair to compensate her with the hoofers. You cannot lack everything; I tend to agree with God on this.

    Wambo came back with our orders, and we quickly immersed to dehydrating our thirsty throats. I took the first sip and my throat felt like it has been set on fire. This poison is tough, whatever it was doing to the liver was not of my concern. I heard that the government had tried to disqualify this life-threatening alcohol, based on some unqualified research that “kane” was making people blind. They argued that it was also shutting down men’s generators, making them potent. Women had started complaining that their men have failed terribly on horizontal engineering.  

    I tend to disagree with these government pathologies. Kane was making men happy, Men were forgetting their miseries, and women should stop complaining when it is clear that they are the ones driving men crazy with unrealistic demands.

    Time flies here, everyone is talking in English now. Baas! You should know this one rule, if you hear men in a club start talking English, English then know you have overstayed your welcome. I remove my phone to check time and finds the Kabambe was already dead. Tells Mutwiri its time we leave, and he insists that we should at least swallow one cup, cup for the road.

    By now I start some hiccups, another sign to alert my brain that I am already above the required throat irrigation threshold. I declined Mutwiri’s offer and drags him outside. Its dark, except for the market mulika mwizi but from the looks we can manage. I took a step and felt somehow unstable, Mutwiri is behind staggering. We had not crossed the road I heard a vehicle screeching brakes to halt behind us.

A female voice is heard from the vehicle. “Vijana mnatoka wapi na mnaenda wapi usiku?”.

    I felt this was familiar voice, not that I have ever heard it but from its tone I guessed it collect, we stopped to see who is asking. A police officer in uniform is approaching us, female police. I try to drag Mutwiri in a manner to imply tujipe shughuli, but he doesn’t bulge.

    He starts complementing her, “Afisa wewe ni mali safi, hupaswi kuwa nje saa hizi”. The fool has charm, policewoman starts blushing.

    There is a policeman approaching, I try pitching Mutwiri but wapi. I couldn’t make of what Mutwiri was telling the police lady and she bursts in laughter. I was busy trying not to see myself in a police cell. The male police is close now, he asks, “Is he bothering you?”

    Before the policewoman responds, Mutwiri quips. “No Mr. Police…. I am just asking for Directions….to her heart” Big Mistake!

Mutwiri spoke English to police. You don’t do that.

    The policeman, obviously irritated, grabs Mutwiri by the back of the trouse
r. Policeman starts, “You must be very thoughtful people, loitering aimlessly at night, drunk and disorderly”. As he airlifts Mutwri to the land cruiser.

    “Afande sukuma hawa walevi kwa land cruiser! It seems we are going to host state dignitaries tonight” calling to the lady officer. She grabs me by the back of the collar and lifts me towards the vehicle.

I hear Mutwiri trying blurting out legal jargons, another mistake.

We are arrested, just like that. Fuck Mutwiri man!

    We get released in the morning after parting with Jirongo each, we had to pay for being state dignitaries host for the night. Could not talk to Mutwiri anymore. I am furious.