Gay to gay living

Greetings, fellow travellers. The heavens opened late this afternoon when I was out in town. Nairobians hate rain, the splashes from muddy waters stain their crisp business clothes and that means expensive dry cleaning bills. What never ceases to amaze is how many people seem to be caught up when the weather changes: if it rained yesterday at 5 pm-ish (which it did) and you were drenched because you hadn’t carried a brolly, it’s also likely to rain today (which it has) and you’ll be drenched again without your brolly. Makes perfect sense to me. So for a second day running I was treated to the spectacle of elegantly dressed women covering their heads with supermarket plastic carrier bags to save their precious weaves. I’ve heard that some weaves can shrink causing the wearer much embarrassment attempting to account for loss of hair bounce to a husband or lover. That’s the explanation for some of the unwashed nests you see some women carrying on their heads.

Recently a Kenyan friend who lives in Germany entrusted me with some cash to assist him purchase a property. He absolutely loved the internet pictures of the maisonettes at Greenspan at the eastern part of the city. I viewed the show house and confirmed that they are indeed very good value for money at 7.8 million shillings. Armed with a registered power of attorney, I’ve found myself deep in a maze with scum-of-the-earth ( aka lawyers), robbers (aka bankers) and con artistes (aka real estate agents). And I’ve been down some seriously dubious parts of the city trying to conclude this deal - for instance today I was dodging other pedestrians on Luthuli Avenue. Yes, you’ll find drug-addicted prostitutes, a witch-doctor’s practise and money counterfeiters on the same floor as advocates engaged in conveyancing. Poetic justice if you ask me.

On my way back to the car I popped into Tuskys supermarket and bought garden shears because the handle on ours fell off the other day. I also picked up a plant sprayer, because I’ve been trying to grow petunias in a pot and I discovered that the usual watering-can holes let out too much water meaning the seeds didn’t stay buried. When I got to the car there was a light drizzle starting and I spotted a young lad hawking pirate dvd’s. He was standing by a shop entrance wearing a faded t-shirt announcing Hardrock Café - Maui. I asked him his name as I flicked through his wares and he answered Kama which is short for Kamau. He looked very interesting and with much potential if you know what I mean, judging by the well-toned forearms. But I’m not looking - because I’m happily almost married to George - but if I was looking I wouldn’t have attempted anything with Kama because I prefer guys who’ve at least attained the legal age to buy alcohol in Iowa. I said thanks very much fella and paid him just 50 shillings for the dvd of Knight and Day, I didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt because I think Mr Cruise and Ms Diaz don’t need to watch the pennies.

Now we’ve just had our dinner. Imelda made a lovely minced beef and vegetable sauce stuffed into al dente ruote pasta wagon wheels. Sinfully delish. Looks like an early night for us watching the dvd and then I’ll see if George is in the mood. Don’t you lovely people stay up worrying about me - I have my secret tricks to get him crazy and I know exactly what buttons I have to press, hahahaha. Night, night.