The Kenyan bracelet I showed off with at the restaurant.


By Winfred Nyokabi

Now let me tell you a story of how I was taken out to a dinner date.

This village girl has been yapping here how she is singo, well, this son of the soil decided he had had enough and he needed to act. So, he slides into DM and throws all those nice lines that have a grown woman tracing Mt. Kenya with her toes though its winter and there are no toes, just a huge ball of socks.

I find myself biting my pinkie finger each time the phone buzzed, rubbing my favourite loc and even fake flipping them backwards. People, this son of a woman has a way with words! I agree to have coffee, you know I come from Laikipia so the Bare ya Nyakiero influence is still inescapable in my habits.

Although I’m in the land of cayenne pepper, there are still villages here. I happen to find myself in one. This means that whenever I have to go to the Nyairofi of here, I need all the saints and angels walking with me if I am to find directions and be where I’m meant to be on time. This time was no different. I was going for a training and decided to kill two birds with the same stone.

Although that saying may get me kicked out from my department because we literally save birds, not kill them. Anyhows, I finish my classes and now I have to find this son of a woman. It’s winter, so 5 PM is already pitch black. Me and darkness are in-laws. My capacity to be lost is tenfold in the cover of darkness. After more than fifteen minutes of total chaos I find him! I have not flown into another human’s arm like I did that day! Weee, I was sure I was never going to be found. My overactive imagination already had the headlines that Alex Chamwada would report.

We have the coffee; which I admit I have no recollection whatsoever of how it tasted. Sighs. I was too busy trying to act sophisticated and posh! Jeso! Never again!

I am taken to my train, and being the Miss Independent I am, I had already paid for it on an App. Yes, we do that here. You can choose to only see money in the pictures. Let me mention at this point that the gentleman being referred to here hails from the windward side of Mt.Kenya. Just saying.

Ok, I have no idea why I am telling you this. Anyhows, off I go back to my quiet village, texting while having this Cheshire smile plastered on my face all 200 KM, I must have looked stoned. Sighs! The texting goes on and on and eventually two weeks later I have some free time for dinner.

Now, this is where the drama began. People! We went to this restaurant, I unleash my English of nose, and since I want to impress, no idea who, I order a typical Hungarian dish. I always drink tap water, so I ask for a glass of tap water. This must have pissed off the waiter because the complimentary drinks that follow an order in such an establishment were never served to our table.

I was out on a proper date, me, in the land of cayenne pepper with a son from the mountainside, I had to be on my best behaviour and cut back on my sarcasm, mind you I don’t even drink when having a meal. Well, it depends on what you refer to as a drink.

We finish the meal, pay and we are on our way. There is something about being a feeler, you notice and file information that comes back at very unexpected times. A month later I remember I never got my complimentary drink and I decided to ask if he remembers. He has no idea what I’m talking about. And that, my fellow Kenyans, is how I found myself back into the singles pool once again.

Let me explain why I’m complaining about the complimentary drink. You see here, they have a national local brew called palinka that you can do legally in your own house. It’s technically chang’aa with probably a higher alcohol percentage than our own. The fact that I hadn’t tasted it here or back home is why I’m still upset.

PS/ dear future husband, I’m done acting during a date. What you will see is what you will get.



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