The left over ugali sitting on my wobbly table contorted my lips with joy as I bit huge chunks, wishing that the probably moldy delicacy had an accompaniment....eeer...if wishes were horses. I had almost proceeded to waste my hard fetched water had I not seen my betting slip paper on the side of the bed. Eureka! At least, it would prove itself useful as a serviette if nothing else. "Not even my current state would hamper my hygienic culture," I told myself as I washed my face. The soap was as thin and rough as sandpaper hence I decided that my armpits would get first dibs on the water. Other delicates would be wiped, I reckoned, as today was not a special day anyway. 5 am, and my day was just beginning. Excelsior!
"Soldier!" I called out flatteringly to the cripple who manned the gate. I had not bothered to learn his name, as they were so many exchanging shifts and I was also not good with names. He did not take too kindly to being woken up from the blistering cold despite the fact that I was clearly putting him out of immense misery. His entitled attitude especially ticked me off as he belligerently walked in his comic gait to open the gates for the tenants leaving for work. How a man in his state would risk the wrath of armed bandits who were notoriously prevalent in Pangani will forever bewilder me. I missed waking up with a purpose, heading to work alongside my intellectual equals to make ends meet but today, at 6 am, I was seeing the rich off to work. Terrific!
I wore my ripped, oversize green t shirt and manually cropped denim shorts which were complemented by orange gumboots to complete the look of a seasonal clown. My metallic bucket could not hold as much water as I needed in order to wash the silver Toyota Vitz without much struggle. "Thank you love," said Angie as she threw a gracious tip my way. She was one of Kevo's girls, the one whom Kevo had forbid me from badgering and demanding for rent. It was an incident which had almost cost me my job as I had exercised my prerogative and locked her out one night to teach her a lesson on deadlines. Kevo's phone call ensured I not only let her in the house but also apologized for my stupidity. I had actually got down on my knees to apologize to a girl who was most probably my age and it hurt like getting a vasectomy in your early 20's. Even though her gratitude was marred in sarcasm, mockery was a small price to pay for 200 shillings. I smiled, folded it and push it down the tiniest pocket of my jeans and walked back to my house. 8 am, and it was shaping up to be a fortuitous day.
I have always hated Math, but compromise was less expensive than stagnation. The CPA Accounts textbook was torture but somehow solving imaginary arithmetic problems was a welcome distraction from the fact that I was now a glorified houseboy. I was halfway through "The Is-Function" when Zaitun from second floor complained that her shower was not working. "I'll send Njoroge, the electrician over in a minute," I promised and got back to my calculator, not bothered in the least to use my airtime for the benefit of such a rude woman. I should have locked the door, as when left ajar, it prompted the most silly of distress calls. George from fifth floor was apparently destroying the neighbor's toddler's eardrums with his heathen loud music. Mama Edwin from ground floor was in the middle of firing her house help and needed me to ensure the latter did not steal from the hand that had been feeding her for two years. I delegated these important tasks to "soldier" who seemed to enjoy poking his nose in other people's business. 11 am, and life was schooling me on the importance of library membership.
I was now a regular at Mama Oti's, a makeshift pocket friendly eatery where the high and mighty dined - the bulkiest of stone-masons and mechanics you will ever see in a non-work environment. The men talked of how a certain Lawi was most probably rotting in a ditch after getting too cosy with the boss' Mrs and could therefore not buy them lunch."Pity for their Robin Hood situation," I thought to myself as I took my final spoonful. I paid Ksh. 50 and hurried out lest they figured out that I was the chief architect of Lawi's downfall. 2 pm, and my shirt buttons were in serious trouble from my then protruding belly. Bliss.
Off I walked to Huruma, where I supervised the works of Kevo's construction site. It was truly a thing of beauty, seven floors up it went, blocking the sun's rays on either side of where it shone, casting an arrogant shadow on the slums behind it. As the cutting discs shredded the outside walls, I pondered on its actual safety. You see, I had long since stopped wondering why we had to pay county officials to look the other way. I was no lawyer but even a halfwit could tell that the works had broken more laws than a pedophile kindergarten teacher accused of multiple homicide at a school picnic. The workers greeted me with utmost respect and it felt better than serving my previous boss tea while dressed in a three piece suit. They seemed lively despite making only three hundred shillings a day and were always joking around, while showering me with praises and following my instructions to the letter. And I deserved it. Why not? I was not only the patron who paid them at sundown but also the master of their fates who decided the men who were to show up the next day. It was a barbarian system where anyone with a bigger chest and arms was first pick and as logic would dictate, the scrawny looking fellows were advised to seek work at salons and restaurants. Off I sauntered back to Pangani after playing God all afternoon, opting to turn the ten shillings intended for bus fare into four heavily bargained pieces of mutura as it was already 6 pm and traffic was at its peak. No harm done in hindsight.
Yet a day would not quite be complete without a visit to Monaco. The allure of alcohol on a Monday evening was more compelling than marital intercourse, judging by the number of married men in the bar that night. As usual, Kevo was rather drunk, telling everyone who cared to listen that Lawi was a rat who would henceforth amount to nothing in Nairobi. He could care less that everyone who listened to rumor mills knew that his wife had the loyalty of a freelance marketer. After all, he was not only the chief philanderer in town but so rich that no man would dare indulge him in the nitty gritties of the alleged indiscretion.
My eyes involuntarily drifted to Mwende, who was looking glorious, with her midnight black hair tumbling over her shoulders and her subtle lip-gloss on those saccharine lips giving her face a beguiling, bubbly outlook.
I tried to gaze into the constellation that was her eyes in a somewhat suggestive way but she sneered and looked away, not flattered and obviously not amused by my creepy sexual harassment which she had always seemed to enjoy. Perhaps it was the creased shirt, the hideous shoes or the coarse uncombed hair with hints of grayish cement residue. I cursed opting out of taking a full bath that morning.
Kevo loved my company nonetheless. He enjoyed my appraisal of the fast coming into being of his artistic construction. He blushed a little at the compliment of how fit he looked, his mates dying of heart attacks, strokes and getting cheated on while Kevo was drinking himself silly and maintaining his health whilst managing his home like the Kings in movies. "They do not make total men like you any more. You inspire me boss." I assured him.
I was halfway through the roasted meat ordered when Kevo decided that it was time for me to go and look after his property. He had received a call from Angie, you see, who was bored and felt like dancing all night. Her not so subtle disdain for men with nothing to their names meant that I had to leave.
It was lightly drizzling as I hurried home. I could not well repair my roof at this time. I hoped the rain would not force me out of bed again at 3 am. Hopefully, it would not rain much. 10 pm and I was back right where I had started, thinking of roof repairs. Wonderful.
