I’m
in Stan’s striped turquoise Van Heusen shirt with barely anything underneath
safe for some briefs. He walks into the room and effortlessly lifts me with his
sturdy arms, walks across the hallway like he would with a one year old in a
playing ground my barely covered ass flagrantly suspended in the air and
finally places me on the kitchen counter.
‘It’s time to feed you babe’.
He says.
Bare
chest and only in his pajama pants he briskly walks across the kitchen area to
the fridge. I regard him greedily. Finally,
I got my own naked stud that every gay man dreams of serving me breakfast. After pouring us a glass of fresh pink Guava
juice, he fishes out some eggs and a packet of bacon and places them on the centralized
kitchen table and comes to where I’m seated instantly disrupting my wandering
mind. He places a soft peck on my lips as he turns on the electric kettle about
30 centimeters from my right thigh. I stretch my arms towards him and he gladly
obliges. His embrace has a direct line to my loins! ‘You are very unquenchable Mr. Cole Stanley!’ He says to me as he places down the glass of
juice he had in his right hand. He slowly starts unbuttoning the shirt until a
phone that sounds like mine rings…
And
just like that my Sunday morning dream is accordingly ruined at least one hour
before my usual wake up time. Further, I may never get to find out the identity
of this beautiful man who called me by his name!
*****
Behind the
Scenes
I’ve
just come from a very appetizing lunch this afternoon with some two gentlemen at
Mocha Mocca, (my pronunciation is still off but I’m catching up) a neat and
cozy establishment located on Koinange street. Their thick cocktail juice on
the house courtesy of the manager who was introduced just after I’d placed an
order for lunch! I think it’s a great place to like go on a date.
I
can neither remember the last time I cooked in my small kitchen nor the last
time I got some yet I’m still at a
constant 75kg’s (Hides under the table) since the New year festivities. Maybe JK (remember him?)must have put
something in that meal devoured under the stars moon. When my grey
Dunhill suit pants can be easily worn without a belt, then I know the universe
has my attention. Despite my best efforts to skip a meal daily or even resume
my 40 minute walk from town to Prestige at least once a week, nothing seems to
be forthcoming. But then is there harm if I crave for some ice cream mixed with
some small pineapple and chocolate pieces, a hint of mint all laced with a
spread of maple syrup on a Friday night? I’d also like to make myself believe
that I’m not the same person who was
toasting sandwiches with ham last night after watching News for today’s
breakfast. Good thing I always make like three or four extra to share with my
three colleagues. At times when you are ballooning up, you may as well create a
support system that compliments your culinary skills learnt from attending
buffets at diverse restaurants in the city. So it’s high time I probably give a
familiar name from a chapter in my past (that is into personal training et al)
a ring this weekend.
Audrey
Mbugua hit the headlines yesterday in very intriguing News (Well, of course the
ever crappy heteros on social media are still having a field day making fun of
her yet they ain’t getting laid) where she has sued the Kenya National
Examination Council for using a male version of her name after undergoing a sex
change. In my opinion not only as a passionate person to matters LGBTIQ but
also a Law enthusiast, I do think this move is by all means timely and good
fodder for our sublimely talented LGBTI activists to make a point but in the
same breath Ms. Audrey’s application to the constitutional court is frail. It
will probably be dismissed with the usual arguments such as ‘Your Lordship, allowing the applicant’s
(avoiding her/his references) application will open floodgates to….blah blah’.
Then while at it they’ll rely on inter alia the Robert Muasya case (which was
dismissed by a three judge bench) as an authority. To bring you up to speed, he’s
the locked up hermaphrodite intersex man who was awarded half a million
for the inhuman treatment he experienced in prison due to his sexual condition.
The court stated in its judgment:
“Kenyan Society
is predominantly a traditional society in terms of social, moral and religious values.
We have not reached a stage where such values involving matters of sexuality
can be rationalized or compromised through science.”
Based
on the foregoing, I think Kenya is pregnant with the bias to question things. I
mean from ‘Dog porn in Mombasa’ through ‘Man defiles dog in Limuru’ to the ‘Cabinet
Secretary in charge of Defence questioned on how she will curb homosexuality in
our disciplined forces’ or better yet ‘Deputy Chief Justice designate being
asked on her opinion on Homosexuality as a subject of legislation’, these
conversations are a sign of an evolvement of sorts and be that as it may, Audrey’s case will be a milestone
model in itself. Any reasonable legal mind would tell you it’s all good for
development of Law in this country.
<<< OCTOBER
2008
It’s
an early evening. I get to the Lecture Theater where my Economics class is
supposed to be only to find out that the lecturer has left instructions to the
effect that there will be no class today and we should read the handouts he’s
left with some reticent looking young man that I right away gather is a
graduate assistant. Once I pick my
handout and safely stash it away in my rucksack, I make my way towards the Strathmore
University cafeteria for a deserved cup of tea and two andazis (deep fried buns, sort of).
After the tea I look at the time on the cafeteria clock and realize it
will still take time before 8.15p.m when the first bus leaves for the city
center. I take the stairs to first floor and briskly walk towards my favorite time passing spot: Suswa Computer Lab. Once settled on a machine and provided the
requisite password. I get onto Facebook, My Yahoo mail and also its OMG page! My
social media time soon gets boring after a few chats and when I finally raise
my head, I not only notice that I still have about fifty minutes to go but that
the laboratory is almost empty safe for a few heads engrossed . I decide to
have a quick glance at the handout and make a few notes.
“Excuse me, can I ask for some
assistance?” A deep male voice interrupts my
focus.
As
I turn to face the direction where it came from, I instantly abandon all my
previous concentration. He’s dark, has a neatly shaved goatee and a fine moustache
that still manages to emphasize his looks despite his slightly jagged hair that
is almost anti - Strathmore. The white shirt with light shade of red pin
stripes hugs him in a way and I can remotely sense he has some broad chest
underneath.
“Sure”
I respond. He smiles a little.
“How many banks are currently
in the country and which one do you think has the highest lending rate?”
He poses a question to me.
“ There’s Stanchart, KCB,
Stanbic, DTB, Equity, Chase Bank, Ecobank….” I respond noting he’s ticking
and scribbling against some notebook. I make a mental note of his long fingers.
“I’d left out Stanbic and Ecobank in my
list.” He interrupts my wandering thoughts.
‘Then there’s also Citibank
and this Muslim one located in ICEA…Gulf
African Bank!’ I respond with some zeal and
notice the approval in his eyes.
“The highest lending rate of
course I would bet between Stanchart and Barclays. Did we include it in the
list?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, it was in my
original draft, thanks. I’m Simon by the way. I study BBIT”. He acquiesces extending a handshake. His grip
is firm. How beautiful! My subconscious is having none of it. Cole Focus!
“I’m Collins from the School
of Accountancy downstairs”. I extend back the handshake
smiling.
We
resume the busy state we were in but I am happy. I soon notice that it’s
already 7 minutes past eight o’clock. I decide to pack my paperwork in my
rucksack. He seemingly looks busy probably working on a project. “See you around”. I quietly say as I rise to leave the computer
lab.
Two
weeks later a 6 foot 1 tower of water dressed in Khaki pants and a short
sleeved black shirt carrying a black folder walks into the cafeteria as I’m taking
a bottle of soda and sausages before class. He turns to my direction, waves
then upon being served his cup of tea joins me in my table.
“Hey, how are you Collins Long time?”
He excitedly greets me asking whether he could sit with me. Of course I agree.
“Hi, long time it is, you know
lectures makeup and all plus the traffic to this place in the evenings does me
injustice”. I respond matter-of-factly. I can
actually feel the tone of my response is very casual but deep down I’m
excited. Besides, I saw him with some
pretty girl next to the auditorium last week and of course he doesn’t know. The conversations are rushed as 5.30
approaches and he finally leaves me heading to the Lecture Theater as he takes
the stairs. This is the blooming of my friendship with a straight man.
FAST FORWARD
>> 2011
I’m
walking along Ngong Road slightly past Kenyatta Hospital at 9 in the morning
heading to work. He gives me a hug. The
first one between us though it’s the ordinary one typical among platonic males.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, he asks me whether I’ll be free to attend
his graduation next Friday. I agree and numbers are promptly exchanged. The
rest of the journey to work is pretty brief as nostalgia kicks in. The Chapati
and green gram meals at Siwaka Plaza since the pork chops at the cafeteria were
outrageously pricy, the invite to study at the Opus dei brothers ‘ residence
just before the university main gate where I got to learn more or less how
single educated men who have traveled the world are obscenely rich in God?
Next
Friday I get a text from him. I respond and accordingly advice him I’m on my
way. He gives me specific directions to where the after party will be since I’m
already late for the function at the graduation square. I ‘m in my black Marks
and Spencer two buttoned suit, my
favorite blue shirt, a pencil black tie and boots. By the time Simon and his
delegation reach the house in Madaraka, I’ve clearly outdone everyone including
the man of the moment who’s also flogged by the same pretty girl I saw him with
two years ago. Can you blame a zega man for dressing the part? I get my hug, longer this time.
It
was a great afternoon right through the evening where I was given a special
chance to give a speech on behalf of all
his friends who I’d gotten to know at the front porch while we were waiting for lunch to be
served. Some rehearsed Luo introduction got me some points in his family
scorecard but I’m sure my pronunciation was shitty going by the giggles in the
room.
Saturday 4 May
2013
It’s
about 11a.m.
I’ve
been working from 8 as I’m on the verge of leaving my job to take up some arduous
task later this month (explains the interviews I was attending early this year)
So I’m slowly walking around Kencom building heading to my bus terminal to take
a vehicle home donned in a black leather jacket, some very fitting pair of
jeans and a paper bag full of cookies from Paul’s Cookiemans tied on my right
hand which is awkwardly pocketed in the jacket and dangling on my right thigh.
My eyes are failing me as I’m very lethargic after the morning obligation (Saturdays
are never a working day for me anyway) and my normally streamlined hair thanks
to texturizer is a bit off like one of those characters who has just been fucked in some dingy
hotel room in Accra road with a married man visiting from a different county.
A
tall man in a horizontally stripped grey T-shirt stops right in
front of me. I raise my head slightly only to notice it’s Simon. Shit,
why of all days does he have to find me all disheveled like this? My
subconscious is throwing tantrums meanwhile I am trying to loosen the paper bag
of cookies and it just won’t cooperate. Simon is patiently observing my ordeal
with a very unambiguous face and when my hand is finally free he grabs me into
another of those straight man hugs. It feels heavenly.
He
tells me he has since moved from his family home and now he’s staying off Thika
Super Highway and suggests that we should have lunch soon. An idea I openly
agree to. He apologizes that he lost my number and asks me for it. I scroll
down to his name and call him upon which he promptly saves it. He gives me his
goodbye hug and we go our separate ways.
*****
The Lunch Date
A
beam of rays penetrates my window. The phone next to my bed is literally
wailing. I look at it and pick it up. It’s Simon.
‘Hey
Collins, what time will you be getting here?’ He asks.
‘I’ve
just woken up; let me come there shortly after midday?’
I ask.
(A
child crying in the background and a lady talking) ‘Sure thing buddy…let me know when you get to the city centre for me to
give you directions.’ He says.
I look at the time
and notice it’s already half past nine. I get out of bed and walk to my small
kitchen to boil some water for coffee. I then proceed to my wardrobe and open my closet.
To be continued…
Cole Mutahi
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