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The next time you touch this old man, teeth will fly

SOMETIMES we are forced to adapt to some funny and weird characters be - cause of situations, and in my case, a certain situation left me with no other option but to change. You see, the world hates a weak person, and if it happens that you are not fit enough to defend yourself, then some people will be on the front line in trying to take advantage of you.

This, I might add, includes your loving wife. With the constant consumption of frothy liquids accompanied by roast meat, over the years I have managed to acquire a very healthy ‘kitambi’, or pot belly, (but I like to call it ‘kero za wananchi’) and I should tell you that sometimes I am proud of my round, shiny tummy.

Apart from diluting beers which I can swallow for hours without a break, this shiny kitambi of mine has made sure that I get the respect I deserve, although the secret that there are worms roaming inside rests with me.

But it is because of this same kitambi that people who consider themselves physically fit believe that they can push me around because I can do nothing to stop them. And they have been pushing me around once in a while, I have to be honest, and this time round I got fed up with it and decided to do something about it once and for all.

You see, that day I was coming from the office and decided to board a bus because my collection of metal I call a car refused to cooperate totally. I tried to start it several times, but it coughed and puffed like an asthmatic patient before it died completely in a cloud of exhaust smoke.

In the chaos that accompany boarding a bus at the bus stop, a sneaky fool managed to steal my wallet, and when the conductor, a small guy who looked like a retired thief, asked for his money, I realised that my wallet was missing. I tried to assure the smelly young fellow that someone had snatched my wallet, but the ignorant fool decided to make a scene over the matter.

“Mzee acha uhuni, I have come across people like you, na vitambi vyenu mnakunywa bia hela zote and then you pre - tend that you have lost your wallet, you either give me my money or you step down!” he shouted, which made all the passengers to turn and stare at me, and the fact that I was seated at the back made the stares more obvious.

Anyway, the reference to my beloved kitambi ticked me off, and I simply told him to get lost, and that if he thought he was man enough he should try and throw me out.

Some of these young men do not know when someone is joking or is simply trying to defend his dignity, because the young, smelly fellow took the challenge seriously and decided to practically throw me out…… (do you know that a human body can bounce on concrete?) This action really pissed me off, and I told myself that the young man took this line of action because he knew for sure that I was not in a position to fight him even if I wanted to.

There is a gymnasium near my home in Manzese, and every time I pass around I notice young men and women huffing and puffing away shaping themselves up, and when I landed on the road that day, the picture of the gym came to my mind.

I managed to reach home in one piece, and although most conductors behave like children of the same mother, there are still others who are honest and full of respect…I found one who ferried me home without any hustle.

The first stop was at the gym, and I found people al - ready breaking a sweat, and I told the young man who was there that I wanted to start serious training which should involve lifting some very heavy weights.

He looked at me and I could picture his mind involved in a very serious conversation with itself, and I am sure his mind which was working on overdrive convinced him that I was looking for the toughest way to leave this world.

“Mzee, are sure the sun has not affected your brain, because with that bald head of yours I know you get the sun directly to your brain without being filtered by hair, but if you are sure, then you have a long way to go,” he told me, and I felt like punching him but I knew that was like signing your own death certificate without any witnesses.

I told him that where there is a will there is a way, and added that I should start the training immediately. Looking on the other side of the gym, I noticed my domestic thug, Boyi, who was at the weights puffing as if he was lifting a thousand kilograms, while in real fact he was pushing a mere ten kilogrammes.

When he saw me, he wanted to run for cover, but I assured him that I was not there to spoil his day by placing my foot on his backside, and instead I came for one reason only, to revive my dead muscles.

“Mshua, it seems mom has finally pushed you over the wall, and I am sure this move has been motivated by constant use of the frying pan on your head,” he said, and I was about to kick him but he was too fast for me.

For several weeks now I have been lifting weights like an angry bouncer, and I must assure you that now the tummy is history, and the chest which looked like the belly of a pregnant goat is now toned perfectly.

Just the other day I went to the shop bare-chested to buy beer, and I noticed the young men at the shop looking at me with renewed respect, because now they realised that robbing me of my phone, which was a normal occurrence, will require more effort in future.

With this new physique, I know that if I come across that young fellow who threw me out of the bus he will think twice before he puts his grub by hands on me, and because I have to make use of all the efforts I have put, I am thinking whether I should be paying for my beer.

‘Good bye Madiba, I will miss you ...


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