Last weekend was supposed to be my favourite. With the travel ban from Nairobi recently lifted, I invited my prospective girlfriend, Hildah, for a visit to my home in Western Kenya.
Hilda has a charming personality. We had been talking a lot on phone and online and we agreed that once the ban and curfew were lifted we would make an attempt to see each other physically and she complied.
So, I sent her some money for bus fare plus a little extra for snacks at the Nakuru stopover. Then I spent the whole night fighting insomnia and waiting for her arrival. At one point of the night, when I managed to catch a bit of sleep, I dreamt of a colourful wedding between the two of us -- only the wedding didn’t go well because some ex-girlfriend was about to interrupt the vows when I awoke to my phone announcing my lady’s arrival.
We spent the whole weekend in romantic bliss; lunch and dinner dates, movies and visits to the nature sites in my neighbourhood. Sunday evening, we decided to make a meal at my place, at least for once.
Now, like most African bachelors who were brought up to believe that cooking is an entirely feminine activity, I hardly cook. And so the cooking process began by cleaning week-old dirty utensils, unclogging a blocked sink in the kitchen, refilling the gas cylinder and purchasing the groceries required for a meal. That is how Mama Mboga, the groceries lady came in.
Let me say something about my mama mboga. In normal circumstances, she is a very pleasant person, very outgoing and quite talkative. She also supplies all my groceries fresh and at good prices. At times, when I am hard up with cash, she allows me to take as much as I need on credit. So we have this camaraderie, at least until last weekend.
On the fateful day, the romantic me decided to go with Hilda, hand in hand, to Mama Mboga’s stall where we were received cordially. I then selected what I needed for supper and paid up, but as the groceries lady was packing up my items, her talkative nature took over.
She started congratulating me for having a very beautiful fiancée. She added in quite a loud voice that the girl I was with at present was better than all the others I had been with to her stall before. She went on to describe one particular one I had visited her stall with. According to Mama Mboga, that other girl was too tall for me and did not even look like she could make a good mother.
All this tirade was met by an astonished Hilda who was shocked that her very faithful and innocent man had been gracing the whole estate with female visitors.
With a look of shame, I carried my groceries away from that stall. When we arrived back at my place, Hildah promptly announced that it was over between us. She packed her belongings and departed for Nairobi immediately.
Ladies and gentlemen, dating is not for the faint-hearted.
@aseri-the-prince on TwitterWhat could you talk for 30 minutes about with absolutely no preparation?