MALKIA WA MSANII IV

“Well, I still wasn’t sure whether he was serious about anything. Plus I was also in disbelief. I mean, I’m just an ordinary girl in the university, way too young to even be considered by someone like him and here we were. I had his attention in a fortnight.” 
(Read the previous episode here.)
                                        ****
There is nothing as hard as trying to eat slowly when the food is too good just because you want to maintain your manners. And again, people are always in a hurry to leave but not anymore when food is brought on the table. Those are a few facts I learnt from the book of food and people. I had now lowered the knife and fork and was tuning into more of Lynne’s story. Mjangos should learn how to eat with forks and knifes by the way. Some be treating them like chopsticks. 
We had to take some time before we could have dessert. Perhaps the advance dessert would be how she ended up in a hotel room with a public figure. The icing of that dessert would be what happened between them. They say a lot can happen in a minute. I say they were in that hotel for more than just a minute. And it was long enough for them to have dinner three times. Or what else do people go to hotels to do? I’m as anxious as you are mjango. Lynne tells us. 
                                     ****
My head was sunk deep in the pillow. I slept with my head up. My hair was spread all over the pillow like the tentacles of an octopus. My body was numb as if paralysis had sneaked in overnight. It was one of those days you wake up and feel like you had been asleep for three consecutive days. 
The obvious questions start to follow. What day is it? What times is it? And how come I cannot remember by the way? Have I been in a coma or even dead and now I’m back because heaven is not ready for me? Wait! What’s my name? Maybe I’ve lost my memory. And why does the landscape of my bed look like the Serengeti. Shit! Maybe I am dead. I cannot feel my legs. Gosh! My fingers too. Hands! Crap! I can’t move my head. No don’t tell me! Oh well, if that’s the case then thankfully, I had already tasted the sweet things that come with being a mortal being. Aha! I can remember how it feels like eh? Phew! Seems I haven’t lost my memory as I thought. 
Oh and my name is Lynne. Wait! Lynne? Yes yes, Lynne. And I’m in my room sleeping on my 3 and a half by 6 bed. What looks like Serengeti is not Serengeti but my duvet wrinkled and basking in the rays of the sun peeking through the edges of the curtains. See? I’m starting to remember. Damn! There is something about today. I have this feeling. Ah! Yei I just moved my legs. Let me try… Aha! My wonderland is still as sensitive thanks to my fingers that are no longer numb as well. Hey that was for reassurance sake. Nothing more. Silence. 
Silence. 
Silence. 
It then pops in my head! Today is the day I am supposed to meet Chris! Holy crap! I turn like an alligator trying to evade a bullet. The size of my body doesn’t allow me to make turns any faster than that. I reached out for my phone on the table by my bed. I must have died overnight. How on earth didn’t I hear my alarm six hours ago? Okay, I think I know why. Sasha came home the previous night with a bottle of Jameson. Before I got carried away, I set my alarm having in mind Chris and I were to meet the following day at 12pm. 
He would later leave at 4pm for Tanzania for matters business. And my freaking high self set the alarm for 8pm instead of 8am! I was toast! What did I expect? I was looking at three missed calls. The latest one was 30 minutes old. I had just messed up my big day. 
I felt like pulling my hair and screaming hell. Just then, he calls again. I breathed in heavily and pick. A narration of how sorry I was was ready at the tip of my tongue. 
“Hello?” I say. 
“Hello mal…” 
“Aki Chris I am so so sorry. Last night I blacked out without knowing and gosh! That was so stupid of me I know and I know that I am so damn late now and you have already grown tired and left but please…” 
“Eeeiy totoh tulia tafadhali. Nakuomba utulie!” He says. 
Silence. 
“Kwanza I’m even glad to hear you.”
“Really?” My eyebrows arc. 
“Naam. Nilkuwa nishahofia kitu kibaya kimekutendekea. Nilishangaa tu it was just yesterday when we last talked alafu leo haupatikani. Nashukuru Mungu uko salama sio?” 
“Yes. I am fine. And thank you for the concern.” At the time I am thinking, I look like a mummy just from a tomb and I was saying I was okay. Anyway if being okay is being alive, then I was okay alright. I’d confirmed it several times with pinches, shakes and a few caresses there, there and there.
“I hope you’re still coming lakini?” He asks. 
“Yes I am. But I’m so freaking late and confused…” 
“Usijali, just tell me what time you will be ready. Nitatuma taxi.”
“You mean Uber?” I giggle. 
“Oh unataka Uber? Basi drop pin pale WhatsApp. Saa ngapi?”
“One hour thirty minutes from now.” I say.
He agrees and hangs up. I am left in disbelief. One thing rung in my mind on and on even as I took my time to shower; he is such a nice guy! The shower knows how much I talked to myself about him. I used the shower head as a microphone to talk to myself about Chris. I asked myself about what would go down in the hotel on that day. I was anxious. Anxious like a bird that knew it was going to be dissected. But not just dissected by anyone but by the hands of one who all other birds would die to be held by. Again, I spoke and said to myself, as much as he is a nice guy, I am not sure whether I would want any dissection to take place, for now. I’m assuming you have replaced dissection with the word you would want to hear. I must say however, I took a shower and oiled my skin like one of the 700 wives of King Solomon who knew it was her day to be with the King. A day like that may come again in 700 days or 300 more for his concubines. Unless, well, he decided to spice things up the 21st century style by, you know, taking in one wife and one concubine at the same time. Fire on fire eh? 
Uber is here. Last check. I have my make up well done. I hoped my eyebrows didn’t look scary. I don’t do a lot of make up though. So no worries. Of course I had to have trousers on. A top that doesn’t say so much about what is too early to say. I stand before the mirror, breath and I almost cry. 
I almost cry when I tell myself that I am a beautiful lady. I didn’t think I deserve some things such as this but it was here anyway. I thought I was just ordinary but this has made me realise that someone thinks I am not ordinary. Whatever special he sees in me, I hope it stays that way. I hope I grow into a reputable lady. An admirable one. It’s still hard to believe that a guy like Chris still keeps up with me, yet I’m so young. But for as long as this fairytale shall last, I want to be the best version of me. Regardless, I will still be the best I can be. 
The Uber driver must have waited for long enough.
                                       ****
I looked at her iris as she talked. So much confidence in herself. She knew she was a lucky girl. I smiled and asked, 
“Was that a one time thing or that’s how you talk to yourself?”
She looked away to stifle tears. 
“If you don’t say nice things to yourself, trust me nobody will do that for you. I learnt not to wait for a pat on the back from someone. Take your hand back and pat yourself first. If someone else feels like you’re worth it, well and good.”
“I feel like clapping my hands.”
“Ah weh Mjango kwenda!” She chuckled. 
“For real. Words like those are the kind people standing on pulpits say and the audience goes in an uproar. An award winning kind of a speech,” I said and appreciated the fact that she was seated far enough not to be able to slap me if she wanted to. 
But she is right. I say you’re your first source of encouragement. Tell yourself you’re the best and be the best mjango. You deserve more than they say you do and maybe even more than you think you do. 
                                       ****
No I didn’t find a red carpet and neither did I expect it. But it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a red carpet spread out for me. But I wasn’t even in heels. Red carpet in my fantasy is honoured with a pair of heels and a long dress that has a slit running from my thigh. 
I was careful not to miss a step. I didn’t want to cause a catastrophe and embarrass myself. A waitress was ordered to wait for me by the entrance. She greeted me nicely as if she was proud to serve the lady who is meeting the one and only Chris, a big name in Tanzania. 
She led me to a reserved table for two and left. Just before I could think about how inappropriate it is for a lady to be the one to wait for a man, Chris shows up, bows while greeting me like a gentlenan in the ancient English movies and takes a seat. 
“Nimefurahi kuona. Sikudhani utakubali kuonana nami tena,” He said. 
I took time to reply because I was paralysed by how good he looked. The man has a sense of style. And boy do we love men who dress (to kill, yes cliché. Have it!) 
“So what happens after this?” I asked as we continued to dine.
“Your wish will be my command,” He said. 
“You’re the man. You’re the one with the plan.” 
He swallowed and said, “There is a balcony with a very nice view of Nairobi. Ungependa twende mle?” 
“Itakua poa.” 
You bet I knew where that balcony would be. 
The elevator read sixth floor. We stopped at room number 67. He opened the door for me like a good man would and ushered me in. It was 6pm. 
“Uliniambia unapenda champagne,” He said while shutting the door. He walked towards the fridge and took out a bottle. 
“That’s nice of you to remember,” I headed towards the balcony as he served us the drink. 
“Waenda kuconfirm balcony eh?” 
“Nilikubali kuja kwa sababu ya balcony with the great view. That was a nice move by the way,” I gave a wicked smile and he noticed. 
“Cheers,” he said as we made a toast. The view was a good as he said. But the atmosphere was better. It was better because none of us had words. Well, it was not an atmosphere that needed words. Words would kill the dense air of romance that had become the new oxygen. Few sips later saw the distance between us grown shorter. But he made the moves. My heart raced like that of a rabbit when it fantasises about cabbage. 
Like the story of the Prince and the peasant’s daughter, we kissed on a balcony. As the entire city watched the unexpected unfolding. The sun set while taking a selfie of Chris and I making out on a balcony of a luxurious hotel. A few clouds tried to cover the congratulatory face of the slowly appearing moon on the other side of the sky. 
But it is with no doubt that the unexpected things in life are the best. When you don’t plan or anticipate it. The mystery is lovely because you never fully get to understand but you have it in your hands anyway. Like girl, if you don’t know how he came to love you, ride in that mystery. Spend your energy enjoying every bit of it instead of trying to unravel the mystery. Boy, if you have never planned on making a move on her but she is now the only example of the lady in the world (after your mama perhaps) you would want for a better half who you can escape to paradise with – cherish every bit of it even if it doesn’t match your blueprints.
He held my waist. Like Midas’ touch that sent goldish signals across every nerve in my body. Angels should have come to sing at the balcony. But what would they sing anyway? About love? No not yet. Good friendship? How yet we are making out. Ah! Let them sing Songs of Solomon. Maybe the did sing because we went back inside the room soon enough. I can’t count the number of times we peered into each other’s eyes. Our eyes spoke louder than our intentions. 
It was becoming too hot for him to continue with his jacket on. And it was already too hot for me to keep my top hanging on my shoulders however light it was. He landed on the bed first. I felt the fluffiness of the bed after he turned me around and decided to man the situation. I think my involuntary slight moan aroused the lion’s dominion in him. And there, he began to kiss my neck. One of my weakest spots.
                                        ****
“Oh look, Lynne, dessert is here,” I said as I tucked back my napkin. 
“You should know how I love Vanilla cake Mjango,” Lynne said as she made eyes with the raspberry at the peak of her sliced cake iced with vanilla cream. 
Mjango Series continues…