Today I received an sms from the traffic policeman with killer looks from last week. Ever since I handed him my bogus business card with my mobile number printed on it, I have used a different route to work so as to avoid seeing him. I analyze that I was wracked by the guilt of him not being interested. Also I figured that to see the object of my secret desires too often may have led me to do something reckless which could place me in jeopardy. I don’t want the complications that such a situation may bring. You can say again ‘once bitten, twice shy’, but that’s a story for another day. And yes, my moral compass hasn’t completely broken down yet.
The message in Sheng, that delicious blend of Swahili and English spoken mainly in urban Kenya was brief, just to say he was that policeman from last week.
‘Ni mimi yule karao wa juzi, Please call me so we can meet’.
I should confess to experiencing an aching twinge of excitement from the prospect of a clandestine conquest. However I checked myself and hesitated: Policemen here are in the news lately for very sinister reasons.
So I saved the message that came in at 11am and only responded to it as I left the office this evening. My wait also serves to give me leverage as I would not want to appear overly keen. Ok, desperate. I chose my words carefully, editing ruthlessly before sending, ‘I am away in Mombasa; I’ll call you next week’.
I get to retain the power of play as I plan our rendezvous to my advantage.