There is nothing as hard as a woman trying to control her sexual desires. Bottling up sexual hunger can make one explode with passion with anyone, anywhere, anytime.
I moved to a new neighborhood and had challenges settling in. I couldn’t trace the spot where we deposit the garbage bag nor did I know the care taker’s office. I could not fix a bulb, nor could I get right opening the window stains. But Sam happened. He lived a few blocks away but somehow had spotted a new woman in the hood. I was from buying a broom and many other things. When moving houses, you can get so frustrated and throw away blankets, some utensils and basic things like brooms. So I had thrown away mine. He kulad kwa macho and from the corner of my eye, I saw the havoc I had caused. Ehe! That is not offensive. Offense is where you pass by a man and he does not turn to check out the infrastructure behind you. But here, I wanted to start fresh. I did not want new fisis, new friends, new drama. I had been kicked out by some angry women in my former place. They said I was seducing their husbands with my tiny clothes that barely covered anything. One Mama Atis had banged my door and caused a scene. Soon, many other women came and accused me of making advances at their men. Ok, I know you won’t believe my side of my story, but I really just liked one houseboy. He was luhya, built and veins would be seen on his arms. I think his madam also liked his arms. So she fabricated stories and said I wanted her husband.
Sam was wearing short and a stripped long sleeved shirt. He asked if he should help me carry it. Actually, demanded to carry. My hands were tired anyway. I obliged. His arms… I could see veins. His legs like stallion. We can only imagine how his thighs were. Firm and athletic. He spoke a lot of swangish. He told me he lived a few blocks away. He told me where garbage bags are deposited and mentioned water rationing on some days, about monthly meetings and insinuated that it can get risky after 11pm. In my moment of orientation, he took advantage and reached my house. He dumped the baggage on the table and begged to leave. He told me he was Sam. Sam who? I asked. This tribalism needs to end.
On Saturday, I was wearing my shorts. That devil of shorts that had made those uncivilized former neighbors to accuse me of being seductive. I had tied a leso though. I don’t want trouble here. I just want to fit in and be a good girl. I don’t want fights and drama again. I met Sam near the gate, carrying a garbage bag. A huge one, almost bursting. Was that pampers? Is that an always wrapping? My eyes were suddenly doing an x-ray on that bag. He smiled and greeted me, asking if I had settled well, if I needed anything. I said I was fine. He looked finer today than a week ago. I noted with fear of a possible crush.
I went away full of questions. This Sam… is he a dad? If so, he is so sweet. Which husband helps in throwing garbage? Or is he just a baby daddy? Or was he just helping his neighbor in throwing away dirt? Anyway, I told myself, it is his business.
I went to work as usual, made no new friends in the hood, minded my own business and bought Sukuma and tomatoes like other normal Kenyans. Life went on unperturbed. I was a lone wolf here. One month lapsed peacefully. No drama except the usually exclamations from normal men around that hood about my ndumbus. I liked this place where I didn’t know who my neighbors were.
One evening as I came back from work, I saw Sam, again. He was vanishing in a corner. I was sure it was him. I shouted his name and he turned. He came smiling. His eyes radiated. His beard had become quite bushy. His arms, I tell you for the last time, had veins protruding more than ever. He was carrying groceries. This time, like any other African girl, fished for information.
“Your girlfriend should be getting those groceries” I said.
“I also think so. But saa wee hukam late…” he answered, confidence overflowing.
“Sasa wewe kama dame yangu you don’t usually come early so inabidi niku saidie”.
Uh-huh! I know those lines. My womanly instincts gave me an alert of a looming admirer.
“Haha acha izo” I giggled and started walking away. He ran after me and asked me if I was offended.
I went to the house a depressed woman. The way this Sam was coming… I ate dry bread, staring blankly at the ceiling, the shoes, the handbags. I was lost in thoughts. Sam is attractive. But I was not planning on entertaining any man-whore out there. Especially those carrying garbage having pampers. Or those telling me without blinking that I was their girlfriend. I will bring along a man next time and look for Sam so he knows am not his girlfriend. I hate being single because I always think it is imprinted on your forehead and any man detects your starved self.
After about an hour, I heard a knock on the door. I looked for a weapon and peeped through the key hole, feebly asking who it was. It was Sam. My heart died. My knees failed. My body started shaking. My house was upside down. I told him he couldn’t come in because I was from the shower. He said he would wait. I ran around the house like a mad-woman, clearing everything. I straightened my bed. Oh I forgot to tell you I was living in a bedsitter! The bedroom was the living room, was the balcony, was the kitchenette, was all. I put all manuscripts below the table, cleaned it, sprayed the washroom and boom! Come in.
He said he liked my tiny organized room. I was nervous. He noticed. He stared occasionally then broke the tension with his swanglish. I was sitting at the corner of my bed. Sam was sitting on the couch, facing me. He was there for about 10 minutes that felt like an hour of torture. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because I was beginning to like him. I felt helpless, vulnerable. I suddenly became quiet and when he stood to leave he asked me to see him off. At least up to the door. He grabbed me in his arms and hugged me tight and left without a word. Women, you know those fantasies when you like someone? You stop functioning. You regress and become a teenage. You lose common sense. You smile sheepishly, touching your hair, your neck. You can’t help but wonder how the first kiss will go. I wanted him. I went to bed thinking… if he had grabbed me like that, what about stage two? How would he handle me in the battlefield? This man must be a beast. A good beast.
The next morning, I saw a face peeping at me from the adjacent veranda. I figured out it was a mboch. Immediately, I thought of Sam. Maybe Sam dined that mboch. Otherwise why would she be a peeping Tom? Maybe she saw him leave last night. I know men. Maybe Sam was another devil. That guy! I swear I don’t want a thing with him. The next time I see this wretched Sam of a man, I will punch his face and tell him never to hug me. I will tell him he is a failure and should stick to his lane. In fact, I will move out of this neighborhood. I don’t want trouble. But I have needs. I want Sam. But no! I won’t have anything to do with him. Ama I just give it to him and see what he got? This thing is not soap that gets finished with every use. This thing will still be here even hundred years to come. But what happened to dignity? What happened to morals and principles? Oh, I know what happened. They died in a fire many years ago. They died a natural death. I have needs. I need this. I have to.
In the evening as I came back, I met Sam at the gate, waiting for me. People are idle in this city. Who does that? There was this familiarity he had with the watchie. When I saw him, I melted with joy. Whatever I told you earlier on was just a moment of stupidity. He drives me crazy and I will ride him crazy. He hugged me tight and held on to my waist for longer. His beards touched my neck and I just couldn’t take it anymore. He gazed into my eyes as if looking for answers. I fear eye contacts. They make me feel exposed to the whole world. I looked down and he lifted my chin. It was a moment I will live to remember. The watchman coughed and told Sam that his boss had just driven past. Wait… His boss? Sam had a boss?
…to be continued.