​THE BAD HOUSE

You slowly open your eyes and see nothing at first. For a moment you think you’re finally blind. Yea, finally because the things you have ingested for the last two years since you joined campus are probably among those President Kenyatta’s government has waged a public war against. You found them being called makali and you have never thought there should be a better name. But you realise you’re not blind, just yet. Your mind was only booting and now you have realised that you were lying against the wall. In fact it’s like you kissed it all night. 
You turn and you’re greeted by someone’s bare back. It tells that you have been sleeping with someone through a night you cannot remember about. So you guess that the wall is probably not the only thing you kissed overnight. You blink like seven consecutive times to make sure you’re still not either dreaming or in the effects of the vanity contained in the alcohol bottles you held last night. The back is of a female; deduced from the curve that forms through the sheets that have covered the abdomen from the small of that back. That relaxes you but only for a second. All of a sudden you feel unsure of whether it is really a female. You fear you might be mistaken because for all you know, what you’ve been drinking can make one go to places never imagined by a sane mind. Some men have curves too, you think. You have done some bad things in your life but sleeping with a fellow man has never crossed your mind full of dares. The state of panic causes an adrenaline leak on your system. You quickly sit up but stop half way through it. 
You’ve seen something that not only neutralises the acid in your nerves but also unlocks the memory of what happened overnight and beyond. The hair. No, they are actually dreadlocks. They are long like Rapunzel’s hair in the old fairy tale. Aha, you don’t even know her name, so overnight you just called her Rapunzel and she seemed to like it. She didn’t really like it because you were calling her the name of a fairy tale she loved when she was a kid. She liked it because of how you were calling out that name. It came out more like a moan and a scream than just a call. So you were moaning the name Rapunzel all night because she served you with rounds of romps you have never experienced before with numerous chics you have ever managed to bed with the charm you seem to naturally bear. 
She was in control like a rider on a horse back for the entire time since your attractive looks drove her to you with her dreads nearly sweeping the floor and later to bed by your crooked passions. You feel like you liked her more than any other chic you have been in bed with. Maybe because she is daring and is not a slave of pain like every ‘normal’ mjango. She forced you to pull her hair to subdue her to every thrust. She’d get mad like a demon during exorcism whenever you were lenient in pulling her hair. Like the pleasure was not pleasure until it was countered with pain.  You liked her because she could multitask. Men like women who multitask. Though all women can multitask right? Okay, so men like women who multitask perfectly. You remember how she danced her waist around your midsection as she puffed weed and sipped from a glass of tequila. She’d occasionally pour some coco all over your chest and neck only maybe to show you how she can make a mess by night and clean it to sparkle by day if she happened to be your wife. 
But you’re in no position for a wife just yet. Or to be honest, you are just not ready to settle yet. Not to settle for the real life; to settle for one woman. You and your dogs have never settled ever since campus went to y’all and not the other way around as it should be. You became a clique since you were first years in campus. You and one of your buddies went to high school together. You started off together at first so you’d help each other through the naivety that comes with being fresher’s. Then came on board three more friends with whom your egos didn’t collide. Some of you had some things in common like a common hometown, rich families or academic course. However, word had it that what was and still is common among all of you is your powers over the ladies; both within and without campus. Rumours had it that some of you have sugars for main chics. Though you boys know better and are in fact too busy with partying, clubbing, drinking, sniffing, smoking, sic road trips, photoshoots, playing video games, gym, watching football, betting and romping new chics every weekend – to be chasing around rumours other mjangos think you should cover every now and then, for what, reputation? Huh! 
You mjangos have never cared about reputation. When a man has money, killer looks and all the beautiful shawdies at his disposal, what else does he need to gain? Fine, anything else but we can bet reputation is not among them. 
After life as fresh men in the hostels within the campus premises, you felt worthy like all ex-fresh men, to graduate to your own rented cribs outside school. This is what young adults who long to taste the waters of life crave for. Self-dependence. There is this power that is harnessed by a national ID that our old folks probably don’t know about yet. Maybe because they got ID’s way after they attained the legal age since the serikal of their times was, for lack of a better word, old school. So they may not be so aware of how much of a big deal it is to acquire an ID in the generation of coloured TV and button-free phones. Now that they know thanks to me, they should also know that it gives their kids, sorry, young adults access to so many things or even everything. It’s not bad. Though it depends on your definition of bad. Acquiring a National ID gives the young adult of today the determination to be self-dependent. Not entirely though, because folks, they’ll still ask for money from you. That is the only string that will remain attached.
Your parents gave you money to rent cribs. Probably individually or to share with a friend or two to cut costs. You know life in campus, it’s tough for the ordinary mjango. Odi, right? Some go for a day or two without having a decent meal or even a meal at all. At times one has to choose between paying rent and buying food. Others believe in the God of miracles who multiplied fish and bread whenever there was need. Hence, they place bets on the only money they have hoping that that God will come through for them. By the way these mjangos make a prayer saying, “Lord let it just work out this once and then I’ll never bet again.” If you have ever prayed this prayer and you stopped betting after you won, kindly raise your hands. Both of them. Yes. And wave them like you just don’t care. 
You rented your own houses yes, but only for one month into your second year. Not to go back to the hostels because life out there was tough, but to rent a three bedroom crib together. A crib you all named the bad house. Though you all miss the times you exiled your roommates back at the hostels on many weekends. 
For the lesser mjangos, exile is when one is barred from going to his/her room because the roommate is hosting a very important visitor. They say they are studying or watching a movie but don’t be fooled, Need I say more? The three bedroom house saves you guys some geez. Soon, every room in the house will turn into a bedroom. Partly because in a house full of boys, you don’t expect what is supposed to be in the bedrooms to remain in the bedrooms and the other part is because, well, these are rich boys and the ladies love rich boys. Rich financially, rich in appearance and rich in personality too? Okay, they say we shouldn’t judge them. So stop judging if you already are. 
Your crib turned into a crib that multitasks as well it seems. On some days it’s just a house, some other days it’s a club, on other days it’s a game arcade, on other days it’s a casino, on other days it’s a bed and breakfast place, on other days it’s a cinema and on many days it is something next to a brothel but not a brothel. A brothel is just, you know, a brothel! That’s because you have many friends from classmates to hommies, from the cool ones to the fake ones and from the wildest to the CU members. At the same time, you still have your clique intact but having added three ladies to make eight official members of the house. 
These three ladies don’t want to be called housewives and neither should they be called maids. They are your bafafas. They neutralize the male domination in the house. You call yourselves family but you still help each other during dry spells, sometimes.
The house never lacks something for everyone. You hungry? Go make yourself a sandwich. Or cook anything. But if you cook you cook for everyone present including the official house members even if they are not in the house at the time. You thirsty? Choose between soda and a beer. What? You’re a CU member? Oh sorry, have a soda then. Or if soda is still too strong you can just have water. No way, you want to have some taste of makali? But you said you’re a CU member! Oh now I get it, a little wine is good for digestion? Hehe. Okay, but because you’re still a CU member, just chase with some soda. You shouldn’t die drinking booze. Tastes good yea? But if you backslide don’t tell on us. You want to get high too? Yea, knew you’d say that is too much. Though incase you change your mind like you did about the booze, just know there are cigarettes, weed, coke and ketepa. Eti what is ketepa? You don’t know what Ketepa is? Wasee this mjango doesn’t know what ketepa is! Okay, ketepa is jaba. Don’t tell me you don’t know what jaba is too manzeh. Wah nigga! Kwani where you from? It’s miraa. 
The door flings open then you snap, “Mjango! Phone call.”
You snap because you have been staring in the air for what seemed like enough time for your armpits’ hair to grow a millimetre. You had been thinking about the life you have lived since your first year as a freshman to last night with Rapunzel. You feel like crying because you don’t realise why it’s hitting you so hard right now that you have become a wreck. You start to feel like the house has been a prison of impunity. You have not done anything useful with your life since you joined campus.
Just then, she walks in the room carrying your phone. For the first time since the three bedroom house turned into the house, you’re embarrassed to see her naked and to have her see your loins. You then cover yourself tactically as she approaches. She is one of your bffs in the bad house.
“Who is calling?” You ask.
Handing you the phone, “You’re mummy’s boy remember?” She smiles and walks out without you being willing to have your eyes see her out. 
You look at your phone with a cracked screen that looks like a web and feel ashamed to answer. You have been lying to your mum since the first Friday night you ever exiled your roommate. She still thinks you go for kesha every Friday night. 
The call ends. You sigh. You feel like beating yourself. You say aloud in your head that you’re going to leave and get your act together.
A hand under the sheets slides across your loins caressing everything on its path. You turn and look at Rapunzel. She is smiling mischievously. Before you could think of telling her your latest resolutions, she pulls your back to the bed. Like an animal in the mood of devouring, she crawls over you and clamps her legs between hers. Your heart is racing and you can feel it from your throat. She falls her dreadlocks to her back revealing her spotlessness on her topless body. You struggle to say something but she covers your mouth with a finger.
“Ready for some, what do you wanna call it, morning exercise or morning glory?” She asks and wipes her lips with her tongue.  
You swallow something heavy and click. 
“Whatever! But just make sure I die in the process,” You say and you vigorously pull her dreadlocks to have her face come to yours…