I am going to tell you a nasty, and dirty and probably horrible story.
I was never going to say it for two reasons, the person involved asked me not to write about him and also it was well, you know, embarrassing. But what the hell
Lately my Mum has been trying to get us to join in her healthy eating habits. The other day she bought some vegetables whose names I do not know blended them with around six passion fruits and presented it to us as ‘passion juice’. We obviously didn’t believe it was passion juice, so she said it was a cocktail. That right there, that word is what did it for me. Cocktail. I do not do cocktails, not after the events of the story am about to tell you.
When I told my sister this story, she laughed and said “najua huezi sema iyo story kwingine”. I looked at her and maaaaan did I feel like it was a dare. And so dear sister, as Barney Stinson would say CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!
I was in Nairobi for some business when a friend I met during my attachment period asked me to meet him so we catch up.
We met in town and walked to a kanice restaurant just within town. I was ready to order my usual coke when homeboy (we will call him homeboy because am not going to tell you his name, obviously) decided he can order for me. Who am I to say no? He ordered two cocktails. I turned and gave him the eye. You know the eye that asks all the questions the mouth has not yet figured out how to ask. That eye. Homeboy started laughing and went ahead to assure me the cocktails are not alcoholic. He doesn’t drink. And I happen to fall in that category of people who believe we may get a free pass at the heavenly gates because we did not drink. But again, who am I kidding? That one act can’t even clean a portion of my sins.
I remember telling my roommate back in school that for me, I feel like believing in the idea of heaven and living my life as I did and still am is what may be my damnation. Anyway, that’s a story for another day.
Where was I?
Oh yeah. The date-ish meetup. Homeboy and I started talking. And did we talk! Since I said I would not write about him, I will not go into the details of what we talked about. Just know we taaaaallllllkkkkkeeeeeddddd. We did not order any other thing, so the cocktails were all we took. Now just in the middle of this talking, my stomach started rumbling. Druuuu…. quuuu…gululululu…drrrrrrrrrrr… It was not a good sign. I tried to ignore it but my oh my!
Those who cannot get to the nasty part, let’s just say my stomach did me wonders that day. Thank you for coming and have a nice day.
As if the rumbling in my stomach was not embarrassing enough, I started feeling my behind begging to explode. With the way my stomach was making noises, I feared my backside would not just explode, but it would be a Nagasaki kind of explosion. I was not ready for that kind of embarrassment, I was trying to make a good impression. I politely excused myself and went to the ladies. I was already at the door when I remembered I had left my bag at the table and it had everything including extra tissue for just incase and my phone. If I was going to take long in there I might as well have my phone, but it was too late. I walked in and the place was immaculate. I walked to a free stall and got in. Good thing I had wore a skirt that day. Easy job. Pull up, strip down and get to business!
I sat there and waited. Nothing. Imagine nothing happened. Not even a little pee. Nothing. Not even gas. Absolutely nothing. The rumble, it was gone. Just like that. The discomfort in my behind, gone. I was very okay. I only counted up to ten tiles when I realized nothing was going to happen so… pull up, drop down and out I was.
When I rejoined homeboy at the table, we continued talking until he also excused himself. He took a while at the gents so we can safely assume he worked his shit out. All the puns intended. While he was away, that rumble started again and maaaaan it was worse than round one. Now my stomach was full on aching. I contemplated going back but I imagined what he may think, and at the same time I assumed it was a false alarm. Again. I held it in.
It was now almost 7.30 in the night so we left the restaurant and started walking towards ambassador. That was the longest 5minutes of my life. With every step, I kept worrying my body would give in and bam! I will let lose in the street.
We parted ways just near the National Archives and I rushed in to the first restaurant I saw. Ordered one cup of tea; and asked for the ladies. I have never been so happy to be in a loo. After the usual pull up strip down, I felt my body let go. Waaaaa… the noise, the pressure, and the smell! Yaani had I spent one more minute on those streets I would be a tabloid story by now. I must have been in there for almost five minutes, or even more. When I left, I found a queue. The lady at the front smiled at me and said, “umetoa yote”. I was so tired I couldn’t even answer back. I just smiled at her, washed my hands, avoided eye contact with the other ladies, and went to find my tea. All the while praying for her poor nose.
I got home after about forty minutes and went to the loo again just to be sure I am okay. Well, nothing happened. But just to be on the safe side, that night I did not eat anything.
Just as I was preparing to go to bed, I got a text from homeboy ‘thanks for a nice time’
Hahaha… Nice time… No shit!
