Forbidden Passions 2.


Sam looked at me, smiled and said, “Ntakutafuta mrembo”. His boss? No… must be his brother or brother-in-law. No. what if he is… what if he is an errands’ boy? Ok, bitter truth… what if he is a house boy? No. He is too attractive to be one.

I went to work the next day a sad, emotionally drained woman. I was irritable, moody and did not bother to put on any make up. I didn’t want anyone talking to me or vice versa. I could not concentrate on anything. I couldn’t do anything. I called my mum to ask how she was doing. This always happens. When love backfires or seems to backfire, I usually call up mama to hear her voice and remind myself she still loves me regardless.  I stared blankly and thought silently, painfully- this beholder is me. Sam’s attractiveness lies in my two eyes. It won’t matter even if he is a house boy. Even that Lucia married their gardener, Fernando in some soap. Her parents supported her. Can I try the same? If they don’t approve of my Sam, I will just disappear. Didn’t Leo disappear with Morena in some other soap? Leo was just a foreman. Morena was lady boss. And had great moments in Cancun, where nobody could find them? Ah… yes. Eloping here I come. But what if my friends laugh at me and post it all over facebook admonishing me for being too blind in love? Will they say I lost my mind? Will my villagers whisper that I was bewitched? Maybe I should just call up my wretched ex. I hear he wears suits nowadays and not jeans. From what I have gathered, he is still single and broke up with a dramatic skinny as hell woman who almost chopped off his manhood. I heard my heart laugh at my confusion. Sam is your man, go get him. Forget conformation. Forget mama, forget your ego, your pride.

A week passed. I did not catch a glimpse of that man with veins protruding. I asked the watchie where Sam lived. His smile was judgmental, bemused and yet bleeding for me. Those sort of smiles of pia sisi watu wa mkono tunachanganya wasichana. He gave directives, too long a description and by the time he was like sasa, Sam si kijana mbaya… I was already walking away. No. Running. I pressed the doorbell hard. Sam emerged wearing a white vest and shorts. Surely doesn’t he have trousers? I was able to see his body in 3D. Everything. My confusion did not come in the way of my scanning his body. He had biceps. Not exactly a mountain of muscles, but just what my eyes love seeing and my hands itch to touch. His neck had marks and his Adam’s apple stood menacingly when he talked. His beard was shaven, not clean-shaven but a bit prickly. He had a birthmark near his collar bone. His chest looked wide enough to accommodate my big head. Apart from his prominent veins, he had some marks on his arms, probably due to a painful childhood.

I went there with this heat of someone going to burst a cheating spouse. I was hoping to burst him with a baby tied round his back while he was moping and generally busy with chores, an apron around his lean body. His joy on seeing me was sincere. He had mixed reactions but he moved steadily towards me, with his killer smile and killer arms and well, I couldn’t resist the hug. Enyewe women and emotions are one thing! He confessed how he had missed me and that he was happy I had found my way. Found my way? Idiot. I am here to give you a lecture, I thought. He disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with fresh juice. Those charms won’t work for me. I studied economics, passed like Kibaki and I know trends. I know Sam’s trend.

“Boss wako hatazusha?” I asked putting on my innocent face.

“No. hawezi zusha.Ni mpoa.”

By the way wee ni house boy ama?” I took the bull by its horns.

“Kitu kama hio” he said with a smile. With peace in his heart.With nothing to be ashamed of. There! My fears were confirmed so was my stupidity in choice of attractive men and my bleak future.  I was feeling too devastated and broken. Why did he have to be a houseboy? Why do bad things happen to good people like me? I didn’t want drama with another houseboy. My mother would probably deny me three times and the old geezer would skin me alive if they heard this is what I was doing in the city. They could not have possibly sent me to school to end up romancing with a houseboy. No. The old man would take soil in his hand, spit thrice and disown me. My Mzee would die of a heart attack. When I died, I would be buried at the further-most neglected corner in his compound. No one would name me after their issues. I would be a disgrace. No… I cannot be with Sam. My train of thought was interrupted by Sam asking me if I was okay.

Overcome by emotions, I stood and advanced towards the door. He leapt after me. He pulled my arm and drew me to him. He grabbed my waist. I swear this houseboy was going to show me wonders. Where did he master these theatrics and sexy moves that I like?

Nini mbaya? Me naku-like though hatuko league moja” he poured out his heart.

“Leave me alone. Achana tu na mimi”. I said with resignation and disentangled myself from his arms holding me like an octopus.

I staggered back home and boiled noodles. Who invented these things anyway? Bless you. I picked one strand after the other, humming a sad song, drowned in sorrow. All my exes criss-crossed my mind. Did they curse me? Were they falling for maids too maybe? Or were they with sophisticated women out there? Those ones who wear red heels and speak English? Those who can afford to take them to Zanzibar without asking them to chip in? Those ones who have doctorates. I used to imagine when size 8 sang shamba boy she was high on something and just controversial.

With the entire world against me, I still hoped Sam would come and assure me. You see really I don’t know what I want or what to do. 7pm. 8pm. 9 pm. No Sam. No knock. No scent of his. No shadow. Just few memories I had of him. Strong arms, manly scent.  A million fantasies about me and him doing things you want to hear. Then my phone beeped. I reached for it in a flash. Predictably, it was Sam and he asked me if he could see me on Friday after work. In my house. I said no. He insisted. I insisted too. He still insisted further. What is wrong with men? Don’t they take no for answers? Do they think no always means convince me? I told Sam I didn’t want his vibe. Sam said he just wants to see me. I said no. He said please, just this once. I said no again.

Friday evening. I found Sam at the gate, again. My stay here has been too long already. Like a girl who went through 8-4-4 successfully, I put on a stern face and declared that I did not want him following me to my house. Or I call security. Which security anyway? The watchie? His accomplice? Sam is that man who never takes no for an answer. I did not want a scene, so Sam followed me. We did not speak much. We were two hearts desperately yearning, yet this force held us back. We were engrossed in thoughts. This Sam was probably hatching a big fat lie that he is not exactly a houseboy or that he will take care of me even if he is just a houseboy. I will not be lured.

Then something crossed my mind. Did I leave that house tidy? Oh God! That sufuria having rice… on the table. And the towel, did I even air it? Gosh my panties! I held my mouth. Those things damn… I had left them scattered on the bed as I sampled out one ugly but comfortable mothers’ union. Why would I put on laced ones or thongs yet I had no man around? What will Sam and I talk about? Labor laws? House wives of Kawangware? Will he grab me, maybe? Oh I hope he does. No… it’s wrong. He shouldn’t even imagine of touching me because I will scream and file a case with FIDA for attempted rape.

As soon as I opened the door and we entered, he bolted the door behind him. He reached for my hand. He pulled me to his chest. He kissed my neck. He run his hands through my hair. He breathed his hot air in my ears. He whispered and told me not to be afraid and not to worry. I held his neck and all I could say was Sam… oh  Sam. He tilted his head and bent to kiss me. If you can resist that moment ladies, you deserve new high heels. I deserve no heels. I closed my eyes and sailed away. I was carried away to Bali and shown beautiful things. I saw the beach. I saw the waves. I felt the cool breeze. He kissed my neck and lifted me to bed. That’s where my mind became alert. These things, let no one lie to you, that they were lost in the moment. My body was weak and lustful. It was yearning for Sam. It was begging to feel Sam just for once. But yet I was alert. What if he told the entire houseboy fraternity that he has pitad with me? What if he was testing if I was Merimela? No… I was not yet ready to become that girl who can’t keep her legs closed. And be the trending topic always with exaggerations and wherever I pass, people use their mouths to point at me saying ask Sam. Alimpelea tu hapo kwa gate. No! I am God’s daughter. Sam begged. His eyes were burning with passion. His breathing was fast. His breathe was hot like a dragon’s. Things had risen to the occasion, wondering what was happening out there and which lioness was awakening them. His veins, now more pronounced than ever, dilated with virility. He ignited my long dead passion. I was getting weak.

He was fumbling with my blouse, now half open. I was protesting weakly.  I asked Sam to leave my house and my life. I know you want me. He said, pushing me back, gently and trying to kiss me. I said I didn’t want sex. He said what do you want? I said I was afraid, and lonely. He kissed my neck even the more as I protested, this time more strongly than before. Then his phone rang. He tried ignoring it but his ringtone was the sound of breaking glasses, high pitched and those ones that kill the mood. It gave me a chance to sober up. He picked it. “Yes. Hapana niko tu hapa mbele. Okay. Sawa. Ntakam nayo”. It was his boss, again.

Maybe Sam and I have incomplete business. Maybe our paths may cross again. But we all know this is forbidden passion.

This entry was posted in Fiction.


  1. Magero says:

    Scintillating, passionate, intriguing, suspenseful and a beautiful piece on what every woman goes through when in love. That confusion is what makes a good story. Keep penning dear Gladwel.

  2. Anonymous says:

    ‘If you can resist that moment ladies…’ What do we deserve again? Gladwel you are going places I confirm. Keep it burning.

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