Two Fingers

P.S. I know I owe you guys. Makosa ni yangu. Waingo did his thing and am doing the thing. I feel like the piece is not that ready, but I got you. Dropping it soon. In the meantime,…

Traditions have changed. Before: We used to write letters to our other half, expressing how the days are longer and the nights are unbearable. We send memes instead and the half; we divided it to quarters and eighths. Yule anakupea, pia ananipea, Akikuletea, ananiletea. I have no idea how you people do it out here having multiple partners, mimi ata huyu mmoja sipati! Sneaky links and all. I need lessons, please. Some of us have none tupige through pass bana. Maybe I am doing everything wrongly because comparing the way I approach the other gender and the way my fiends say they do, hapa sipati kitu. Am too nice. We were having a conversation the other night and boy, am I alone in this. Or they just want to keep their gangster points up. I’d easily organize a dinner in the bush, have scented candles and a well-organized table for someone I love. Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic, siku hizi wanasema ni ‘simping’. Honestly, I do not understand the rules. Should I take her out? Where is the limit? Mniwache bana!

 I have seen and been told stories of how my uncles and aunties met the lengths my uncles went till they got a yes. We sharing the third bottle of Smirnoff, my uncle, out of the blue. In a very concerned voice, he enquires,

“Muigai kwani kulienda aje? Siku hizi sioni na yule mtu wako?”

 Here is the thing: I never back out on anything. Kwanza kuchokozwa, now with some few shots in me, will argue till morning. I blame the liquor though I’m a silent man by nature, very introverted, na si kusota.

 “Nairobi, niliwachwa manze”

I say back while pouring myself a beer. I need to be sipping something slowly coz it’s about to go down. He pours himself a shot, “two fingers” as he calls it. In one gulp, he drinks the liquor, prompting him to make a grunting sound. To cool off his throat, he pours water into the glass, drinks, then raises the vodka bottle, checking the ‘gauge.’

“Na vijana mnakunywa, (pause) siku hizi ata hamkibizi hawa watu, ni Whatsapp tu. Mimi kama nakumbuka nimepeleka aunty yako hiyo time ile Senator ya Juja ilikuwa tu imefunguliwa, very expensive alafu anitisha sahani ya pili”

He says the last part in Kikuyu, making everyone around the table to burst out laughing. He got everyone’s attention and we are all invested in his revelation. Is this the day she finally said yes? His brother starts enquiring where he got the money to do such a thing, claiming back then all he had were peanuts from his taxi job.

We are sitting in those shades that Kikuyu men love to go to. Two uncles, three cousins, nothing planned. We all bumped into each other at shosh’s and on our way back home we decided to have one for the road. We have been here for more than four hours. Not that I’m complaining. Sundays have a way of shaping themselves. This is how we go out as a family. There will always be a constant supply of beer and a bottle of either whisky or vodka, depending on which uncle ordered first.

He pours himself a beer, adjusts his sitting position, and we can tell that the man was getting ready to pour his heart out. Holding his glass up, he starts narrating how, according to him, he has moved rivers and mountains in the name of impressing my aunt before she said yes to marrying him. He avoids using the term love, but we all understand that’s the reason he returned from the Coast, where he had been stationed, upon learning that his girlfriend was going to college in another province. Mtoto wangu akiitwa KU nitakataa kind of vibe. In his mind, wameniibia bibi so he came and scooped her off her feet, literary, and she said yes.

Of course, way later I’m thinking and wondering why is it that we can easily say “I love you”, mean it or not, it doesn’t matter but our parents don’t express this but move mountains for their partners. I think nowadays it’s better saying it rather than showing and when you show it, simp alert.

“Lakini hiyo ni hiyo time sai kumechange” one of my cousin counters back. I strongly believe he said this to piss off the older peeps at the table as both of them gang up against us.

“Change ni ati mmekuwa wazembe, alafu mkajua kukulana mapema. Mashida za kufuata wazungu. Sisi tulikuwa hadi tunaogopana, si ata mliona venye wa huyu venye ile siku alikuwa amevaa,” he says this sarcastically, pointing at me making everyone laugh aloud.

Hater. I loved the dress. I believe because of them, that was the last time I ever saw the dress. Besides, at that moment, she was out to impress her man, which worked by the way. That was a long time ago. I learnt my lesson. This is why I’m taking my time introducing anyone else to them to save myself. These men know how to roast one well, so whoever I’ll be dating do not ask to meet my family. For our sake, babe.

“Hakuna, alikuwa anakaa fiti mimi hakuna kitu mnaniambia.” I say back, then sip my drink. This is a losing battle. “Lakini siku hizi ni ngumu kupata wako pekee yako. Babes ako na babes mwingine. Alafu pia wazee wanataka wasichana. Competition is all over and we have no money,” I add introducing English at the table making the discussion more personal.

This is how we attend therapy as a family. Once in a while we sit outside under the moon, share a bottle, mostly bottles, and talk about life. Suddenly someone will remember they got an early morning killing the party.

“Sai hakuna wa ukweli, mimi ni victim, natembea single kama Muigai,” I still don’t get why he had to include me in his misfortunes, my cousin says, “Tumekuwa na kamtu for like three months juzi napata tumekuwa tukishare na mubaba. Na venye nilikuwa nakaamini”  

In this family, we are so African that instead of using the L word we use “amini” we are men, don’t start involving emotions here. How do we even deal with that?

“Sasa ulifanya?” my uncle asks, signalling the waitress to add a drink for my cousin, mans has been through a lot. “Hakuna, una accept na una kanyanga kubwa na kushukuru Mungu kuna pombe hii dunia,” he says back winking at the waitress making her blush

 My uncle turns into a lecture on how we doing it wrong. According to him, impressing a lady involves steps. You have to market yourself. Even animals go an extra mile, some making dances and weird shit. It’s all the same for us only that we are “literate” and have a tendency of misinterpreting everything to suit our needs. He is making sense, yes, but applying what he is saying in real life might be difficult. If I take her out, I’m ‘simping’. If I invite her to cook, she’ll think all I want is to “eat her”, plus we only got little money. See how all the odds are against me!

By the way, if they ever find out I wrote about this, there will be an intervention, my family is dramatic. Let me tell you Maina, Tutakuwa tu tunachoma mbuzi having a normal conversation then suddenly utaskia

“ati uliandika nini?”

  I love how my family shows they care. They are petty, but it’s the kind of drama that attracts us together and deep down they will do anything for you. Jaribu kugonjeka unatafutwa hadi na Guka, tracking everything, supporting you all through till you get well. Then ghost you. It goes back to you know what I remembered. Fuck you! Come find me. We settle this.

I miss them already.