Euphoria Oranges and Reds

Sato 6th October 7: am Left my Pad for town to pick up my costo visitorShe’d sent an SMS . . . am coming into townFor the last three days I’d wondered, just like her, whether it was good or bad that she came over to see me. We both knew that it was no just to see me. It was decision timeTo take our friendship a notch higher or Lower. That would depend on yet to be determined scale
7:20 am Haileselassie AvenueNairobi is slowly turning into an orange Glow . . . from above the rising sun is late as it happens to be OctoberBelow the skies orange clad youths scatter leaflets with gruesome pictures of a dead female, with highlighted text urging the reader not to vote for a government that encourages “extra judicial killings”. . . motivation “oscarfoundation.org” . . I wondered why one must look for extraneous political issues when there’s so much to see that is wrong with the current govt. Why not concentrate on issues that are clearly evident like the lack of a constitution, corruption. Sorry we've had that again and again may be the images of bullet ridden will create a euphoric wave of hatred for Kibaki.
7:30 am at Steers Mombasa Road.
Am at the wrong restaurant. I should have gone to pick her up at Nandos. She said that rather nicely on Phone. At Nandos I noticed that she carried a small convenient night bag. I was hungry so I suggested breakfast. . . did she hear and ignore me? can't tell. We drove off to the Orange town. By now the Orange was the dominant colour in Tao. Mathrees and Hopas not Excluded. The youths were more vocal now as they chanted Hammer (hummer?) slogans in praise of their soon coming king. I noticed that the street boys amongst them had Orange t-shirts too. Found it funny that they were already dirty! Who cared as long as they spread the word. "Raila Biro, Yao neo!" They occupied all lanes and the traffic police had it rough and vehicles fared no better as there were no exit routes from the Maddening jam. If that didn't piss you off, you had to deal with a scary presence, a feeling that trouble could erupt any the moment those boys decided the future was economic gain and Nairobi is full of that in the wide glass displays of mobiles and other electronics. Yes you feel like peeing it off and my gal told she'd like to use the bathroom.
I drove away from the orange zones and counted many were closed signs on my favourite restaurants. "I could use the city council facilities, they are clean you know" that I didn't know. She heaped praise on the rehabilitated joints while I drove looking for any open restaurant. I once found myself in the orange zone once again at the GPO. "I'll use this one" she said and disappeared into the one near K&A. When she came back to the car she assured me that she's ok except for what she explained upset her. Near the loo door, she had met a lady nursing a big facial wound. Her conclusion was that it was a whore who ended up with a bad client. It was not all gloom for the loo attendants offered the whore a cup of tea. And she drank it, inside the loo. "don't be perturbed" My Coastarian said to me "the loos are clean" that I couldn't argue with coz am sure they would let me in the "ladies" So I thought I should get out of the car and walk into the "gents" round the building. However I noticed a "smoking Zone" sign and I was not exactly sure the smoke in the air was just from cigarettes. . . . The thought of tea in the loo came back to me and I was hungry so I suggested we take breakfast. I noticed concern in her eyes, aren’t we going home?
8:00. Breakfast at Kula Corner, Hurlingham
I noticed that the piped music was excellent and felt good. Unfortunately the Orange wave was bashing the environment in droves of overly crowded Matatus and other hired contraptions that were coming from Kibera and Kwangware the noise levels were deafening. We were here for breakfast so we got the B.E.S.T
This was going to be my first meal in 18 hours. I’d spent the evening and indeed the early morning hours at some joints that don’t serve solids. While at the joints I knew the trouble piling up for me would soon rear its ugly head. My costo friend had not confirmed her coming until she got into the bus at 10 pm. By then I was at Mamba and I was not alone. Had she confirmed, I would have prepared for her. Cleaning up my pad was the major issue here. That meant removing most of the contents from inside the house and onto the compound or further away. The contents were tents and other stuff one uses to decorate a wedding. In my case several weddings. Business not being so good in the month of October I had excess baggage that I’d stored in the house for fear it would disappear from the compound. Had I taken my costo gal seriously I would have chucked the junk into my car and taken it elsewhere. Mama taught me that when you expect visitors, you clean up your act. First and foremost, your house and compound.
Sato 10:15 AM
As I ate my last egg from the B.E.S.T. suite I thought of the ones in my Fridge.
Under normal circumstances, those are the ones we would be eating. I would have cooked. My pad was no longer operating under normal circumstances. It has become a Store, Garage in short non-user friendly especially for the fairer kind. A while ago It boasted of a fully equipped kitchen with a fully loaded fridge and pantry. A joy for the fairer sex. How I got compliments from them. That was then. Now Business dictates otherwise.
As we left for my house I rued the fact that I spent my precious time entertaining one I would not dare invite to my pad. What to do. A slight curve formed on my lips and My Coastarian noticed the infant smile. “What?” she asked “am happy you are coming home” I mumbled as I called my “blogger” ((Story elsewhere)) who said she was at Thika. I have no idea why I called her
Sato 10:30 Am
We made our way into the house. The front door opens into a kitchenette and a passage proceeds upstairs. I looked at her all the time as she scanned the junk. I failed to follow her eyes into the kitchen sink where I had left ample evidence of meals I’d cooked and served to either many people or to myself over and over again. I am sure she saw and reserved her judgement. The Staircase leads one through my “bedroom” and closet into the Living quarters. This was routine. What was not was the quiet nature she absorbed all she saw without uttering a word. Am used to “it’s a nice place” or even as one put it “reminds me of a video library” Perhaps to excuse her “lack of words” she said “I’d like to sleep”
To cut this long story short, she slept. So did I. We slept. Woke up in the evening and went “out” By the time we came back into the house we’d already been to my House at Home, to my parents, the Movies and to a wonderful Jazz performance (eyes on World Cup Rugby on TV) at the Nakumatt Prestige. I called my “blogger” and reported myself. Then we slept again. While the whole of Nairobi heard and saw ODM’s orange. My Coastarian was seeing her reds. I see no point in proceeding with this topic.

Sunday 10 am:
The Next day being Sunday, she had an opportunity to “confess” at mass. She’s Catholic. She insisted that she goes for mass. Since she was to leave for Mombasa with the 1 pm bus I offered Priestly service but she knew what she wanted. Trouble is, first she had to make breakfast in my jungle home. That’s when hell broke loose. Not exactly the way it normally breaks but I cackled and burst my lungs out as she fought her way downstairs and through the sludge in the sink just to come up with a cup of tea. She did all these things silently. And that’s where she got me. I knew my ratings were BAD. The grades were like none I’d scored in my previous tests. While at my House at Home she had been overcome by strong emotions and had to hold on to me. Said she then when I asked her wasup? “Am unable to bear the thought of this beautiful house having no owner” she’d continued to say “I now feel closer to you. You have a place I’d like to live in”
Back to my laughter. I was amused because I wondered whether my ratings would be based on the house at home or this pad we were in that was hardly homely” Of course she asked me why I was laughing. I was unable to explain and she took that badly. I took her to the Basilica as she requested. While she attended Mass I read my Sunday Paper and noticed the Euphoria that greeted the Orange luminaries. This made me wonder what Kenyans will use to judge their leaders. Will it be Euphoric Politic or sound judgement? My laughter overtook me again as I sat in the car. I knew I was doomed as far as judging went.

Sunday 12:45 pm:
After mass it was time for her to leave back for her Coastal habitats and I put her on her Bus and headed back to my pad to laugh some more. Thoughts of cleaning up the Pad filled my mind but laughter reigned

Sunday 14:30 pm:

More Laughter but when reality of loosing out in the impeding judgement struck me, I started wondering if I shouldn’t cry instead. While pondering on how this could be done, I received an SMS. “Are you available for a drink” it was the same duck that had helped me waste precious time on the eve of my Coastarian visit. I wanted to say no cause I had spent heavily over the weekend, including on her. As I wondered how to say no I found my phone calling her and my mouth said. “Sorry I can’t. Am Broke” my phone clearly said these words to my ear “no problem am buying”

Sunday 17:00
So I went to Alfajiri to meet my duck. On the way my lovely “blogger” returned my call and I confessed beyond her hearing ability “I need God!” My Duck spent on me and wanted to knock me out silly. So she made sure I was served a strong cocktail. When this didn’t work she spent some more. She noted with concern that I hadn’t taken a loo break yet I was still on my feet
Sunday 11:45 PM
Eventually she realised it was all in vain and she forked out good quid for the barman and we left for our pads. Before I slept I laughed one more time and how wished I could cry too.