Awesome

My cousin Jim and his American wife Rhonda who live in Chicago came visiting this week. We are still recovering from the effects.

Jim and I are age mates and I really miss him ever since his family emigrated over 12 years ago. We keep in touch irregularly so it was wonderful to hear that he was coming over with his wife Rhonda whom I had never met. Little did I know that our house would be turned into party-central during their visit.

Jim and leggy-redhead Rhonda who I learn is expecting their first child in 6 months’ time love to have a good ol’ time. We didn’t hit it off initially with Rhonda especially when I spotted her licking her lips when I introduced them both to George. Then she started grating on me, rubbing husband’s palm over an invisible bump, ‘we having me a lil Obama!’ I felt sick as a parrot but not as sick as when she kept saying 'awesome' to everything around her. Both are unemployed, Jim having recently lost his job in the auto industry. They are using savings to travel before he has to find a new job. I hear you, it’s exactly what you do when there’s a baby on the way. Not awesome.

During the day while we were at work they had awesome Imelda waiting on them hand and foot making snacks and refreshments and arranging cabs to the shopping malls. I marvelled at their nonchalance towards Imelda my loyal friend and housekeeper, ‘don’t you know how to mix a martini, darling?’ They'd carted over gifts of Hershey’s bars, a coffee mug from the Windy City and a bottle of duty-free Johnnie Walker Green which they drained with the help of George. I suppose that made it all ok. Awesome.

Jim and Rhonda had the downstairs ensuite guest room which is useful because George and I are able to keep our sleeping arrangements upstairs private. Being good hosts, we dutifully spent late nights listening to spicy anecdotes co-narrated by our guesting duo well into the nights. It’s useful to learn that cousin Jim likes the feel of a firm leather strap to his buttocks now and then. And Rhonda insisted on playing over and over and over again that ella, ella under my umbrella, I started to have sinister thoughts that there might be more to the Chris Brown saga.

Anyway, we kept the safe-haven door at the top of the stairs locked just in case our guests went a-wandering. It was just as well because on Wednesday Rhonda had too much to drink, boiled as an old owl, and became disoriented when she woke up in the middle of the night. That’s when she peed an acrid bladder-full on the staircase landing. I heard the sound of running water and assumed it was the rain beating outside. God bless my Angel Imelda, she mopped up the puddle before we got up which made me madder when I found out.

Yesterday morning I dropped them off outside Longonot Place to board the tour truck to Laikipia for the second leg of their holiday. Later I laughed as Imelda told me how she got her own back; she’d packed Rhonda’s unlaundered clothing neatly back into their luggage. Ten days camping with no clean knickers…mmm…ella, ella, ella eh eh eh. As I waved them away mi casa su casa, see you soon, I thought we need a holiday ourselves before their return in two weeks.