Jesus & Judas (Go to Simba Soul)

The past week has been hellish. After George pronounced the death of our relationship I begged and begged him to forgive me and reconsider but it was soon clear his mind was made up. I even employed the diplomatic culinary persuasions of Imelda but still he would not budge. The way to this man's heart is definitely not his stomach. Contrary to what many people thought, this new chapter in our life did not mean that George was severing contact with me. Luckily for me, my ex (sounds weird to me, I think I'm still in denial like Gaddafi) has only moved across the hall into another bedroom. I feel sad but also happy that George was confident in the depth of our relationship to still count me as a friend for life if not part of the family. We've traveled a long bumpy journey together I just hope we can navigate this rough patch and emerge wiser if not patched up. Thankfully God exists because here in Nairobi we are enjoying excellent weather after the frightening rainstorms of just two weeks ago. To those of you in the northern hemisphere, let me tell you that I never knew warmer wall to wall sunshine nor powder-bluer skies. I'm looking around for a hammock; fingers crossed by the time I find one, George will agree to lie in it with me. After all what's the point of a hammock if you can't be uncomfortable in it with the person that you love?

I've coped with the breakup by working really hard on an interesting client brief which has meant paths crossing with brilliant people I previously worked with including bff Sheila. Motherhood definitely suits her, and my officially soon-to-be godson baby Matt is coming along a treat. We work till 10 pm most days, by the time I get home George is already tucked away in his room. I can tell he's waiting for me to come home because his bedroom lights only go out when I climb the last step on the stairs and open the door to what used to be our room. Thursday night I tapped on his door and whispered goodnight. Gee was quiet for like two minutes though I heard our favorite Ce'cile cd playing softly...love you when you're gone. Then he said slowly sweet dreams, honey! My heart skipped some beats to hear his sexy drawl, I think there's more than a spark there, perhaps still some smoldering embers. For now I just curl up naked in bed where George used to sleep, tossing and turning tortured that he's only sleeping next door. I cover my face with one of his t-shirts sniffing his scent and soaking away my streams of hot regret tears. With my old tattered Raymonds Polar Bear blanket from my childhood wrapped round the pillow I manage to fall asleep just before 3 am. It's not ideal and I'm beginning to notice that I'm not firing on all cylinders by mid-afternoon. If it carries on like this I'll get myself off to Dr Njenga's for a prescription to help me sleep easier. The project I'm working on has a lot riding on it leaving no room for stupid errors. I know some of you who believe in love and the fallibility of mere mortals (I'm not talking of you kasaperekarembo) continue to pray for me, so I hope it won't come to a psychiatrist's couch.

What of elephant-in-the-room, Lavish daughter of Maingi? Well, she sent me a package by G4S Courier the other day; yeah I was also surprised when it arrived given that company's recent local incompetence. Imelda signed for a set of 4 sumptuous boxer shorts in large made from 95% cotton and 5% Lycra. They are a snug, velvet glove-like fit, very much like how I remember her little manicured hands. I'm not veerry endowed in that department (I'm average, Imelda made a good guess, lol) therefore smooth little hands wrapped around my toolbox are always more than welcome but that's another story, hahaha. Also with the package was a carefully crafted personal message. L2mm dear, hope you don't mind me sharing parts of that letter, which I later shredded, with my readers. In it she surmises that I'm not really gay or even bi, she accuses me of exhibiting classic psycho sexual-predator symptoms by blowing hot and cold thereby creating dependence all for my gratification. It's not the first time I've being called that, btw. I on the other hand feel like I'm getting manipulated from different angles. Or to put it in sheng, naona kuna ujanja unago. Oddly enough I'm enjoying both the attention and deprivation equally - I can't work out what about these two very diverse creatures lights up sensual areas of my brain like fireworks.

Oh, Lavish pto'd her missive with the bombshell:I love you and I want to have your baby! It's all too much for me to handle. Tonight I'll just let my hair down, I'm heading off to The Simba Saloon with Sheila for some alcoholic beverages (dawa, anyone?) and nostalgic eighties soul music. You can find us canoodling - seated away from the crowd - in the 'Jo'burg' part of the club. I asked George if he wanted to join us he said he'll think about it but he hasn't given me a decision. We've just devoured a rather juicy water melon from the fridge together which is a good sign, I think know he'll come out too.

Baby Matthew has arrived

Hello people, a lot has happened lately. I haven’t just been lazy and absent from the blog without good reason nor have I been away in Uganda to see mountain gorillas although that’s one of my Top Ten Things To Do Before I Die. Recently I changed the look just to give the blog a brighter look. I hope you tell me that you likey likey. My friend Sheila had her first baby two Mondays ago, a boy who premiered in at a whopping 5 kilos. I applaud Sheila who like many other women decided to keep the baby even when it’s father did a Houdini the second she announced the pregnancy. Long story for another day. When I arrived late in the evening at the hospital  I found the actual  drama was already underway and the smiling Kenyan nazi at reception said I was not allowed in to see my friend. So I spent a chilly night at a nearby hotel till the next the morning.  George was on the phone to me until I fell asleep because he knows just how attached I am to my pal. Well, I can’t even start to tell you  just how overwhelming it was to meet my latest godson, something powerful and heart-warming tugged deep inside me that I actually shed tears. 

When I spoke to a sleepy Sheila I asked her whether childbirth had been as painful as having a battalion of safari ants chewing away at her privates. She bit hard on her lower lip slowly shaking her head: ‘Tamaku?’

I said, ‘Yes?’

She continued: ‘You know the pain you feel when you shit a fat del monte pineapple from Thika?’ My eyes watered as I nodded because I could imagine it was no walk in the park.  ‘Yes Sheila, I can appreciate that…’

She laughed wryly and cut me short: ‘No Tam. I’ve got news for you and all the men out there. You need to imagine having that whole pineapple shoved up back inside you and then yanked out. Times 100. Hehe, giving birth is no joke but looking at my son now I can say it has all been worth it.’

I went silent  and started sweating just thinking about the generosity of all the women across the world who choose motherhood. On behalf of all men folk let me say we will never be able to repay you, thank you so much mums.

A day later I got Sheila and beautiful baby Matthew back home and I’ve been spending a lot of enjoyable time at their flat. The other day when Sheila was breastfeeding her son she said to me I never thought that one day I’d be showing you my boobs Tamaku, and thanks so much for being here for us both. I smiled and said it’s the least that I should do and don’t worry about the nipples that Matt is sucking on because if all people  felt at ease with themselves and didn't  bother to cover their dolly partons then the global economic downturn would never have happened. It's the simple things that give joy.

Happy days indeed, even the endless changing of diapers and getting baby sick down inside my shirt when I burp him over my shoulder. This is bliss.

Wednesday

I’ve been thinking how finally I seem to have struck a good balance between my home and work life. George is happy, working hard and I am also doing my thing and happy.

Yesterday was my colleague Sheila’s big day. She recorded an interview for TV, which can be a nerve-wracking experience the first time you face the cameras. We’d spent the first two days of the week prepping and going over and over the same detail but she was still a bundle of nerves when the crew turned up at our office. It took just 5 takes and I am sure it’ll be received as a brilliant piece when it airs mid next week.

While the filming was going on in the boardroom, I ordered peppered roast beef sandwiches and vegetable samosas and Norma prepared ginger tea for me and a flask of coffee black just the way Sheila likes it. She came into my office when she finished filming and I could see a faint sheen of perspiration on her neck. Sheila had refused me to be there during the interview, she said I’d make her nervous. Although she said how much she’d enjoyed herself, it was clear the morning’s excitement had also sapped her energy. She sat across my desk and sighed, saying her high heels were killing her from all the standing around.

So I drew the blinds shut inside my office and I asked if she wanted me to rub her feet or shoulders since she was obviously exhausted. I know it’s scandalously outrageous, but this is how it is lately between the two of us. No one could see into the office and she also rubs my shoulders now and again when I’m tense. I can’t even remember where we crossed the line. Anyway Sheila said yes please do and kicked off her shoes. I took her stockinged size six and a half feet in my hands and started to rub the tension away as she carried on talking. After about fifteen minutes of this we both didn’t feel like being in the office and things have almost ground to a halt around here, so I picked up both my jacket and Sheila’s poncho and lied to reception that we were going for a client visit for the rest of the day. I needn’t have bothered, the guys were more interested in the platter of sandwiches that had gone untouched and which I offered them. We hadn’t discussed where we were going, just that it was for a quiet drink. Sheila drove her car and I followed in mine to her place along Lantana Road.

When we got inside Sheila’s 3rd floor apartment, you couldn’t fault her taste in furnishings or décor. She opened a couple of bottles of red, brought out the cheese board and we started dancing and trying to sing first Anita Baker's Caught up in the rapture (six times) and then Counting Crows’ Accidentally In Love (four times, volume turned up) from the lyrics in the cd jackets. It felt so indulgent doing this at two in the afternoon while most people were happily slogging away, but it won’t come as a shock to learn I didn’t feel any guilt. I was feeling so safe and cosy because I really really love my friend I can’t even start to tell you now, and there’s only that one secret between us. Then we sat on the settee and carried on talking about work and stuff, mainly she was talking because I like to listen more so that I can remember things. I was just resting my head raised on the arm of the settee and Sheila was twirling my tie which I’d removed, through her fingers. We were sipping the spiciest South African Shiraz and I could even smell the Thierry Mugler’s Angel on her. That’s how intense it was. I couldn’t think of anything except what an amazing person I’m listening to and I started to see she more than just likes me. The voice inside my head kept me in check, Tamaku, all these beautiful creatures are sent to try you…

Anyway so sorry to disappoint, there are no juicy bits yet because nothing happened and I don’t think anything will ever happen, we just chilled for the next two hours and I was careful not to drink more than two glasses although Sheila didn’t hold back. The party for two was interrupted by the buzzing intercom. It was the caretaker of the flats who wanted me to move my car and I knew it was time to leave. Sheila came to see me off at the parking and I was soon on my way home. Along the way I came across the mangled remains of a midnight-black Audi Q7 driven by teenagers that had collided with the back of a truck; such senseless carnage on our roads every day. The young dead were still strapped inside the car and I felt an overwhelming sense of grief thinking about their families. RIP poor kids.

At home over dinner I told George about everything I’d been up to in the afternoon, and now he says he wants to meet this Sheila (pun unintended) I’m spending so much time with. I said yes, we must arrange something.

Later I was trying to fall asleep lying in bed next to George but my mind was still ticking away. I couldn’t get the memory of the day with Sheila out of my head and I felt as if I’d brought a part of her home with me.

A throbbing head

Mike and I left the strip club just over 6 hours ago. Mike was in especially high spirits after his private, behind the curtains show. What he doesn’t realize is that I have my own dance moves to match any that we saw on stage today...mind, I did pick up some new styles which I’ll be practicing in the shower soon…

As we sat at the bar finishing off our drinks I wondered about Mike’s wife and whether it’s disloyal for a married man to visit strip clubs. Mike doesn’t think so, no surprise there. When I joked that his wife might be having an affair, he didn’t see the funny side and he abruptly got up for us to leave.

So here I am sitting in the office sending you this update, two samosas later, my head throbbing and my mouth tasting like sisal. Sheila asked as I walked in 30 minutes ago and I whispered ‘strip club jana’ and gave her the conspiratory wink. I can tell by the way she sashayed away, her curves longer and slower, my standing in the man-stakes has just gone up considerably.

What Sheila doesn’t know is that privately I could give her serious competition on any catwalk…