Forget a hawk, a woman’s eye is sharper

THE only reason me and my family are still alive up to now, apart from the hand of God, is simply because there is enough sand outside my house, which is the whole truth.

I know that God loves me, because I now know that whoever put that sand outside my house was sent by angels, although I have been cursing him for the last three months.

The reason why I nearly roasted my entire family is simple, I was trying to cook a meal for them, and I know the curious are wondering whether that Nyakiusa woman called Mama Boyi finally decided she has had enough of me.

It is possible that she had enough of me, because I was forced to enter the kitchen after she left me and the family, and claimed that she was going to her friend’s house to refresh her mind before she makes tough choices.

The reason why that tough Nyakiusa woman decided to go against her vows of ‘For better or for worse’ is because of a very weird incidence, and I am not saying this because I am trying to give excuses to defend my innocent self.

You see, that day me and Jatello, that fellow from the lake side, had gone to watch a match (I can’t even remember which teams were playing!), and I came back home at Nicodemus hours, when the cocks are doing their usual business of waking people up.

It is unfortunate, because that day we did not go to Zakayo’s Pub, because the old man was acting as if he has all the intentions of committing cold blooded murder after going through his black book and found out that between me and Jatello, the bill was enough to pay the salaries of several of his girls.

We decided that it was high time we frequent another joint which has a giant screen instead of peering at Zakayo’s 24-inch TV which has a reputation of taking a break at crucial moments of any match.

Our thirsty spirits led us to a new joint owned by a massive woman called mama Rhoda, and the place, of all names, is called ‘Kanga Moko’, so you can imagine the activity which goes on inside.

We found ourselves empty seats on a corner, and Jatello who is usually a loud mouth, bellowed to the nearest waitress to come to our table and take our order.

“We did not come here to count crates my good woman, we have money, and we want to spend it yawa, so hurry up, my throat is on fire!” he shouted.

A very beautiful girl who I suspect was barely 19 sashayed her way to our table, and Jatello looked at her the way a cat eyes a mouse before eating it.

I believe because of the intense stare from Jatello, the poor girl became so nervous that she tripped herself when she was about to leave our table after taking our orders. She almost fell, but my quick reaction saved the day, and I held her before she could hit the hard floor.

I did not pay any attention of that incident after that, but what I did not realise at that time is that when I was rescuing the girl from falling, she left red lipstick marks on my white shirt.

When I arrived home, the house was in total darkness, and I opened the gate and parked my car inside before opening the front door. As I swung open the door, the lights suddenly came on, and as you might have guessed, mama Boyi was standing there like an angry tribal chief.

The dreaded frying pan was not in sight, but this did not give me any comfort, because to tell you the truth, my wife is dangerous when it comes to hand to hand combat, and in my drunken state, the frying pan was the better option.

What frightened me most was the fact that she looked calm, and that made me wonder what she had in store for me. She looked at me the way a teacher looks at a student who thought it was a good idea to draw a picture of a zombie on the exam paper.

One thing I never understand with women is the fact that they can fail to notice if you have two different shoes on each foot or if you walk in without your head between your shoulders, but they can easily notice something as tiny as a speck of lipstick on a man’s shirt.

As she advanced towards me, my whole body shivered as if I was standing on the streets of Kiev on snowy morning, and I closely watched her to see if she had the frying pan tucked under her dress, but her eyes were pinned on my shoulder.

“Yaani baba Boyi, with all you do out there, umeona haitoshi you have to come with evidence home!?” she asked, and I looked at my hands to see if I forgot and walked out of Kanga Moko with a bottle of beer.

It was with a shaky finger that she pointed at my shoulder, and when I looked at what she was pointing at, my heart did a major somersault and started racing faster than Mbappe chasing the ball, as I noticed the smear of red lipstick.

All the beer in my head was starting to evaporate like smoke from my head as the mother of my small clan turned slowly and went to the bedroom. I tried to remember how I came across the smear, and by the time it clicked, mama Boyi was coming from the bedroom, fully dressed, dragging a bulging suitcase.

I tried to explain how the smear found its way on my shirt, but she looked at me as if I was a boy who had just wetted his pants and was claiming innocence, and told me that before she makes any tough decisions, she has to refresh her mind, and went ahead and slammed the door behind her.

It is at that moment that Boyi, my domestic thug, came out of his room, and one look at him told me that the boy had been awake for a long time.

“Inakuaje mshua, maza ndo anasepa au?” the boy asked, and although I did not understand his language very well, I got a rough idea of what he was talking about.

The next day I told my daughter, the Junior Investment to prepare breakfast, and she looked at me as if I had just lost my marbles and was in dire need of a transfer to Mirembe, before telling me that she cannot risk ruining her manicured nails.

The young thug offered to help, but the thought of fried bhang mixed with onions came to my head, and I decided for us to be on the safe side, I should take charge and prepare breakfast myself.

I was busy mixing eggs and wheat flour that I completely forgot that I had left my shirt on top of the gas cooker, and when I noticed the smoke, I was the first one to charge from the kitchen.

Right now I am assembling a delegation of elders so that we can go and bring back mama Boyi before the kids get used to dry chips and burnt pieces of mishkaki!!