My evening with the Policeman

So this is how it went:

Of course I was no use at work yesterday afternoon in anticipation of the Event. I drove straight home, cutting and hooting happily like a maniac through the beautiful Nairobi traffic for a long thorough shower and shave. Next I cocoa-buttered myself head to toe (top2bottom?), and finally two outfit-changes later stood in a polo shirt, blouson jacket and a pair of khaki shorts with matching canvas shoes. Oh, and a snug pair of boxer shorts.

I was parked on double-yellows outside HFCK on Koinange Street at 7.25pm, hazard lights flashing. He appeared almost immediately at the front-passenger’s window, opened the door and let himself in. My heart was racing, checking him over, assessing, then central-locking and with an eye to the rear-view mirror we pulled away to turn right at Kenyatta Avenue. Please God, if I don’t get car-jacked tonight, I’ll go to church every Sunday.

‘So you came.’ He asked, flashing me that smile. ‘Thanks for not letting me down.’ Only a fool would stand up this handsome man sitting next to me in a black t-shirt under a brown corduroy jacket and sporting loose fitting jeans.

I nodded not trusting the amphibian lodged in my throat. Inside the car the air was charging with the tones of sweet sweat and the citrus of Issey Miyake.

‘I am George.’ The sureness of those words grabbed me by surprise; my fear started to ebb away as the car inched toward the roundabout.

‘My name is not Mike,’ I confessed, peeking through the mask. I gambled to play fair. ‘Call me Tamaku.’

‘I understand,’ George said thoughtfully staring out of the window. ‘I was afraid this would be a set-up. You know many people don’t like guys like us.’

Guys like us? GUYS LIKE US! He thinks I am a policeman too!

Mercifully for me he saw the puzzled look I was trying to disguise desperately like a miscalculated fart.

‘I mean,’ he continued slowly, ‘Gays like us.’ Hallelujah. Simple words to lift away my cloak of fear. I caught my shiny face in the mirror smiling back in relief.

From that moment, the conversation came easy. So I drove as directed joining Uhuru Highway then up on Chiromo Road, Alicia Keys coming with us but just in the background, slowly fallin in and out of lovin you. We were now quite relaxed, George enjoyed his cigarette and both of us talking about how the Mungiki had paralyzed parts of Nairobi in the day. We passed Westlands, heading to where George said he lived – Kangemi, a not-salubrious neighbourhood I would never venture in the day but I was feeling euphoric. God please, please. And George was already making me laugh, joking how I looked like a schoolboy in my shorts……

To be continued….