As a very committed member of tuma fare committee, I was not expecting to meet Chemasunde without her contributing something for my trip along Nandi Hills-Kericho superhighway. There is no way a woman wants to meet her muumini and fail to send sadaka kidogo.
So, my sister in love send me ka-something in form of an Mpesa message. That orgasm is always underrated. But anyway, I was going to find out whether I was an SOT or a PKG.
In the field of journalism there is something called sound on tape (SOT) and its brother package aka PKG. In a layman’s language, a SOT ni ile sauti inakuwanga recorded reporter akifanya matangazo. On the other hand a PKG has a stand up/close up of a reporter,b-rolls and sound(voice overs and soundbites).In short ina-include all the elements za a news story. Poleni kuwachananya but basically a PKG is better than an SOT. Always strive to be the pkg.
Anyway. Nilikuwa wapi .. yeah. So, I was on my way back to Nairobi and decided to pass by Kericho. I won’t lie, should crush send fare, what else do you do na ukikula utakunia tu? So, I took a matatu pale Nandi Hills and headed towards Kericho. I mean why not and no Brayoo is limited?
The journey was tasteless and the constant complaints from these particular mathee did not make things easy.
‘Nataka change yangu’
‘Nimelipa pesa mingi sina’
And the loud mouth goes on and on, I did pity her but that is none of my business. I have a crush to meet in a few.
Kericho is not a big town. Basically, it is an exaggerated West mall. It is green though. Trees here and there. Our brothers born on the run, doing what they do best. Occasionally, I would see a beautiful chamlady, temptation lures but before my thoughts materialize, I watch her go hug a mubaba, board his car with a smiling face.
Did I mention? I had just joined the Mulika Mwizi Sacco and they made me CEO. My very expensive phone decided to go for a swim, chubwii, into the river it went. I have never shed a tear before; I wasn’t going to start today.
A very tired but good looking Chemasunde came through just at the right time. I had made my rounds in that town in search for her. One Kinyozi after another, I requested to charge my phone in vain. I wanted to give up but I remembered the adage, no Brayo is limited.
We started off with small talk. Mmmmh-ing and aha-ing, here and there, with a touch of erroneous compliments.
She wasn’t your typical girl. Make up done. Nails done. Hair done. Dress to impress. She, wholly, failed the first impression test, but I was ironically impressed. She came, the real her. Hair unkempt and lips ready to be kissed. Simple clad with a pleasurable vibe. Miwani nyeusi na kofia kichwani, she was a gem, I tell you.
Na si kumbe mugaldem had connections. Teketeke, we took my bags to one of the Saccos where the brother to the sister to the brother of her mother was working tuwekewe as we went kujivinjari.
There is a small park at the hips of Kericho. It is called Moi Gardens, I recommend that you visit this place before you fall in love with someone else’s shipenzi or grow another beard. I watched a monkey eat bread while another snatched a packet of biscuits from wapenzi wapendanao relaxing under a tree.
I was surprised to see those monkeys bana. I had to send an email to Kenya Wild Life Service complaining of the bad behavior and discomfort the monkeys were causing. Izo monkey zinyongwe tu.
Mugaldem decided you know what, acha nikufikishe picnic flani. Who was I to kataa. Mrembo akisema natenda. Sisi hao dancing to the tunes of the outskirts of Kericho town, breathing fresh oxygen from cowdung. Very refreshing!
We talked, held hands and mumbled honeyed words to each other. No one was ready to confess their relationship status. Either way, I was sure I was toxic because I had mentioned that I would love a journey past the southern bypass, something your Englishmen decided to call sex. Niliharibuuuu.
The place is hardly private. But the Romeo in me, the Alehandro in me, kicked. I wanted to kiss her, I guess that was only motivation she ever gave me. Ogapa sana. It is the same reason men like big ass. Ujinga tu.
We settled down on the grass, the food she prepared for the picnic splayed infront of us. It’s presentation was hard on my eyes and I prayed it tastes better than it looks. It felt good to bask beneath the joys of nature, the sun warmed my skin and the swaying of the trees stripped me of any worries. The rules of time didn’t apply to us. We took selfies and had a good chat. The man in the south was not in his right mind. Usually, he would be standing erect at the mere sight of a thigh or a neck. This time, he seemed bland. I loved it. Aibu zingine sitaki.
Her lower lip touched mine and I forgot the meaning of privacy. I let her pluck my lips as I held her steady ‘cause nguvu huisha miguuni. We kissed like our lives depended on it. I would every so often peak at our surrounding. Was someone watching us? Probably. But it did not matter, the tip of her tongue roughly caressing the roof of my mouth, I could not hold her again, zilikuwa zimeshika.
She let go of me, her eyes shining. It gave me hope. Like yooo, I am the best kisser. But truth is, she was. But am not bragging that I am the best kisser, ask your boyfriend. Ooh no, your girlfriend shenzi! The heavens opened. We got soaked but we held each other like we never wanted to let go. Things never worked between us but I am happy to say I was a PKG at once, before I became an SOT. For our own sanity, we joined the chama of lets be friends, and heavily invested there.