THE ‘L’ WORD

“Mjango! Amka tujenge nchi !” That is the Kenyan saying that my conscience uses to force me to wake up, very early and sometimes just early; seven days in my week. It’s a conviction that cannot be brushed off. Similar to that mjango in the old AIDS advert that tells married men on the bed side,
“Ukona bibi na watoto. Pesa ya school fees umekunywa usiku mzima na ukamalizia kitandani na mwanamke umemtoa kwa bar. Hata hauna haya! Wachana na mpango wa kando! Epuka ukimwi!”
On your face mjango. Just who can fail to hid to that rebuke of conviction? So the same weight of conviction gets me up on my feet every morning. I leave telling my bed, “Wacha nikatafutie watoto unga.” Vision 2020… Something. Okay I was waking up, just the morning after women’s international day. I would come to realize that the aftermath was mine to witness.
Before the crack of dawn, I walked slowly under the street lights past Kimathi St. in a hoodie. Pocketing, you know that morning chill. The atmosphere is dominated by noise from hooting matatus and frenos supersonically zooming  into the city while occasionally emptying builders of the nation, like me. Early birds racing for the worm they know where. I simply scan around from time to time; to study these humble citizens. I could hear some night clubs still in party moods. Even beggars were already on their spots along the street pavements doing what they can only do.
I cross over to Moi Avenue towards Moi lane. I take a short glance at game masters. I heard what high schoolers go to do over there summoned the merciless hand of the authority some weeks ago.
“Watoto wa skuizi wameharibika.” You know the way our parents say that.
I take a pit stop at a hawker’s to buy airtime na njugu. Njugu muhimu kwa mwanaume eeh? I walk some more and finally root my feet at the Moi lane sign post, near Tuskys Beba Beba. I stand there patiently waiting for this mjango, a fellow nation builder (route125blogger), Collo. My watch reads 6.07am. Naturally, I’m supposed to be steaming up already because of waiting for a man. Me and patience have issues you know. But the njugus, one by one pole pole; were just driving me nuts. (See what I did there? Hehe)  Utamu wa njugu si ni kula moja moja ama? Though that did not make me oblivious of people, I enjoy observing.
Now to what caught my attention. She was in feminine sandals, with neat pedicure. Dressed in a flora slim mini dress and a wool jacket. Braids? Check. Sura? Io ni tiiiick. (Okay I had nothing on her.) She looked all girlish which was normal.
But here is what imprisoned my attention completely. She was not alone. That clicked after ‘they’ had passed and were already some distance away. Who was she with? Not a guy. At first I thought she was a guy. You heard me. She was a girl. A tomboy ,for that matter. Snap back kichwani, baseball shirt. Were those J’s I saw on her feet?
“Vick don’t make assumptions. Sahau.” I told myself.
That was when I realized, njugu zimeisha and the mjango I was waiting for had not arrived yet. I got bored and decided to take a walk. A while later he calls,
“Mjango bado uko?”
“Weh kwenda uko wapi. Tunachelewa!”
“Ndo mimi uyo.”
On my way back, of all the people walking past and ahead of me, I only noticed wale mamdada, slowly strolling back to Tom Mboya st.  And this time? They were holding hands. A cold chill trickles through me.
“What’s the big deal Vick? Only holding hands? Aai weeh wacha.” That  kavoice again.
Back at my chill spot, I kept eyeing the Nazigi mathree loading up. “It shouldn’t leave without me in it.” I sigh when I see the mjango across the road signal me to come over.
“Weh ni madhee sana wewe. Unashindwaje kukeep time.”
“Ingia kwa mata wacha kelele asubuhi.”
He allows me to take the honors to board before him. There were two empty seats left at the back. I had to bend at an unmanly angle to get through to the back. This height  manenoz. On my way to the back, look who my eyes met right in front of me, seated on the double seats just before the rear most ones!! They didn’t seem to click that we had crossed each other twice. Well, the reason is quite clear. They had nothing to spot me for, (sob) but apart from the pretty girlish one, I had enough reason to remember them. My fellow mjango and I sat. I tried to play cool, like nothing was abnormal or extra normal there.
“Eh Vick, alafu sasa mpango ya leo?”
No answer.
“Ala ? Ni nini mbaya ?” That’s when I realized Collo was talking to me. I was busy trying to listen in on the conversation the two, seated in front of us were having. It had fully bought my interest. I strategically signal him to calm down, and because of the male code? He quickly understood. (Mamdada si mkona girl code? Aye!) He nodded.
At that point, I really wanted to be sure that they were who I refused to believe they were. I couldn’t stand the curiosity. For sure, the answer came kneeling right before us.
“Ametuweka tao bure.” The tomboy tells her mate.
“Nani uyo? Ule madhee? “
“Madhee ? Si tulikuwa tumeet na Natasha. “
“Ooh…”
After a brief silence, the girlish one detonates the bombshell.
“Na by the way mbona nliona mkishikana shikana? ” She has this soft voice omera! Almanusura Nyoka wangu atoke pangoni.
Tomboy? Is silent for a while looking out the window. Her mate looks at her closely. So close that it shouted that that was no ordinary look mjango! You know that look that you can never give a chiq because she will eventually end up slapping you? Eeh io. That look had strings attached and chains too. It was so passionate. I could see it in her eyes.
My mjango and I were frozen in the moment. Lost deep into the unravelling telemundo. Oh yes it was like watching a soap opera, this time not on a screen.
“Aki baaabe…”
That was it! The high five moment. The daaaaaaaaamn kind of moment. Analysis? Complete! Pause this movie. Collo and I look at each other, at the verge of laughter, but it was definitely not funny mjango.
I blurted, “This is serious kijana.”
He answers,”Asemaye kesho ni mwongo.”
We couldn’t find distinct ways to nurse that. Tricky sana. I had to open the window to catch some air. The heat of such a moment I tell you. We were cruising past Ngara.
Tomboy confesses with a pitiful tone. “Hun poleee. Lakini si iivo. It’s not what you think. Ye ni beshte tu. I can never do that to you…. Mmh?”
The distance between their faces had grown alarmingly short. You needed to shut one eye to see through the distance in between their faces. Girlish one smiled at her mate alluringly, as if to say, “It’s okay, I believe you.” They were lovers. I kid you not. Her mate responded with another look jameni? They looked deep into each other’s eyes. There at the back seat I felt like jumping in dire desperacy and anticipation for the next big moment. Im shoouting within, “Come on do it already!” Like when watching soccer. “Wazii! Funga!  Funga! Ndio io ndo…  Baaao…!!! Aaaaaargh sh***** Kimeuzaaaaa!!”
Mjango, it did not go that far. At least not any that I saw. I had forgotten that I was supposed to breathe. Good Lord!
“Mjango tulipe ii gari. Hatutawahi isahau.” Collo tells me while shaking his head.
“Kweli.”
“Ii dunia ii!”
As I pulled out my coins, all that was whispering in my mind was The ‘L’ word. Lesbians,  just to be clear. Don’t tell me I’m mistaken1
“Ata heri ivi kuliko ma bati.” We laughed mischievously knowing even if they wanted, they couldn’t get what we were saying. My mjango and I spoke in coded language. Not because we feared they would realize, but because we didn’t want to ruin their ‘sweet’ moments. (‘Bati‘ is slang for ‘gays’ you sheng illiterates.)
“Enyewe jana ilikuwa women’s international day. Kaladies night out ndo kalibamba usiku.”
I giggled, “Sasa ni kurudi mtaani kumalizia.”
In that vain, as I occasionally downloaded it all, kiujanjez ; I came to think about it all. You might say that izi ni vitu mmeshazoea. I dispute not. So I stopped being amazed and instead, I found myself being touched. Not touched because they were lesbians. It’s nothing to dance to, neither is it something to cry over. I was touched because they were so passionate about what they were and had. I could feel it from the back seat. The look in their eyes testified of tones of honesty and candidness, something very valuable and yet very wanting in straight relationships today. They do not care what the world thinks about them. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind knowing I blogged about them either. They must have had a night of their lives, celebrating their womanhood.
Ata tukisema Bibilia imekataa, Io maneno Trump ameiban, kenya jaribu uone; fact remains, people who are different from us in this way and more,will always be there. So let them be. It was not mine to interfere their moments like “weeh ebu muache ujinga na mkomae.” They are better than youyou’re your so called bae, who have the whole world of secrets from each other.
Mjango?  It’s just reality! So be it! We are different.
Well, I sighed.
“Vick, tumefika. Tushuke. ”
As we headed out, I took one last glance at them like saying, “I will remember you.”
Ouw, would you look at that? They were holding hands. I couldn’t drop that tear. I had to be strong.
Ama kweli…