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Love and Stuffy Mornings

Who’s This Stranger?

12

There is a girl seated in front of me in the bus.

I wish I saw her face when I was coming in. She’s in a pink coat, or something close to pink. Her pants are those loose dashiki ones and her shoes match the coat. I’d also like to think that this sweet smell gracing my space is hers. Her nails are also well done.

For the longest time, I’ve been those guys that look at nails. Nails are a deal breaker for me and seeing such nails on such a cold gloomy morning brightens it up.

I want to know if she’s pretty and the curiosity is killing me. I want to tap her shoulder with some bullshit pick up line so I can see her a face.

Hey, I’m Simon. You must be… Pretty. Hehe

Who's this stranger

Photo Credits

But you might be wondering how the hell Simon in a jav in the morning. I’ll tell you why.

I started attachment, an institution mandated job so I could gain exposure to a real working ICT environment. If it were up to me, I’d rather be in my balcony writing with a slim one attached to my lips. But here we are, at 7.28am in a Nairobi bound bus, filled with the most flies I’ve ever seen in a matatu, seated next to a lady who won’t crack the window, slowly getting me hot under the collar.

I’m wise enough to not hate this job, though because I know it’s pointless to complain about things you can’t change, something I read in the Serenity Prayer. Plus, I’m not as busy so I can still write.

I’m in week three now. There isn’t much we do in the government office I work in. In the mornings, I’m mostly running around in other departments fixing shit, installing shit, uninstalling shit, opening up shit, you know, usual comp science shit. 

(My God, the flies in these mat aren’t giving it a rest. I’m certain it’s because of the stuffiness in here. But this damn lady still won’t open the window. Maybe they’re her flies and she’s taking them to Town for the first time.)

Afternoons are a quick blur. In between lunch and home time, I’m mostly between naps and Youtube. You’d be surprised how early these government people leave the office. Some of them never come at all, we only hear about them from their colleagues, these ghost workers. For instance, the first day I came, I sat at an empty desk only for someone tell me “Msee hukaa hapo anaitwa Obiero.” So I told him I’ll sit until Obiero arrives. But Obiero never came and still hasn’t.

It’s a nice place, though. Office banter hits different on cold mornings. We are football pundits. Movie critics. Political analysts. Music reviewers. Relationship advisors. We are everything but I.T people.

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I’m about to alight. This is my chance to see if the love of my life is pretty. If she’s pretty and I do talk to her, I’ll definitely let her know that I’m a nails guy to get it out of the way early so we can start building our family as soon as possible.

Be a darling and share this:

King

King is a mad writer on the loose. He is suspected to have lost his mind a few years after he was born. Since then, he has been writing his mind almost everywhere he can put his pen on. Someone – a government, a state, a police force, a parent, a teacher, a rabbi, a president, a sacco, a doctor, a deranged ex, a church, a therapist, or anyone with a bit of power bestowed upon them – should reprimand him and help him.

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