I moved back and let Clara do what she thought she was good at.

On this day, Clara had invited me to her house- yes, mimi huwa naenda kwa nyumba za wanawake na hata nalala huko- kujeni munichape kama mumekasirika!

I had been eyeing Clara for almost three months.

She had willingly and readily shared her number when we met at Naivas Kenyatta Avenue in Nakuru on a Friday evening after work.

“What plans do you have tonight? Can we hang out if you are okay with that?” I had requested her.

“No plans. I am going home to take a shower, eat dinner, then relax with my Smirnoff Vodka till vey late”, she responded with the calmness of a cow that had just been served.

“Alright, the year is still young. We have many weekends to pick from and hang out”, I told her while pretending not to be bothered by her crude resistance.

She was staying at Naka Estate, but I dropped her at Section 58 so that she could spend equally the same amount of money to take a motorbike to her place as she would have spent on a matatu from town to Naka- you see how intelligent I am.

“You can come over this weekend if you are not busy. I don’t want to be alone and bored in the house. I need some warmth of a man in the house”. Clara texted me two weeks after our not so good first meeting.

I was excited. I told her I would be at her place at exactly 10am.

“What can I bring for you?” I asked her.

“Kuja na nyama na unga ya ugali”, she responded.

I passed by Hygienic Supermarket at Section 58, bought two packets of 2kgs maize flour, onions, tomatoes, chilies, ginger, garlic, spinach, and 2kg of pure steak.

Then, I remembered she was a fan of Smirnoff Vodka- I bought a one liter bottle and a 2 liter sprite as chaser.

My viceroy and coke were cooling in the car.

Clara pinned her location and within five minutes I was at her gate.

“Come up the stairs, my house is on the left side No. 2B”, she texted me.

As I approached the house, I could hear loud music and feminine voices chattering like monkeys and laughing hysterically.

They were drunk already. I felt even more excited.

The closer I moved to house No. 2B the louder the voices grew.

I knocked on the door.

The noise chattering and laughs died.

The music volume was turned down.

Clara came to open the door.

She was dressed in an old wet and soapy blue t-shirt branded PNU-Kibaki Tosha!

Her hands were wet, soapy and slippery.

She was holding a scrubbing brush on the right hand and a mop on the left hand.

“I am wet. Nimejaa maji kila mahali. Just come in don’t worry”, Clara told me as she moved aside to let me in.

We didn’t shake hands. We didn’t hug- I missed the opportunity because she was soapy and wet and I was loaded with unga ya ugali, nyama, veges, na mizinga mbili.

There were three other beautiful ladies in the house.

Each was dressed the way she wanted to appear.

Clara directed me to the kitchen where I placed all my luggage on the kitchen table.

It was on a Saturday.
They were doing general house cleaning.

As soon as I was settled in a stool that I was directed to place and sit near the toilet, one of Clara’s friends came and told me to help them remove the curtains from the walls and windows.

The curtains were heavy and made of silk.
They looked and felt very expensive.
I grabbed one curtain and tried to pull it from the curtain rod.

Clara came rushing to me and shouted “Hizi curtains ni bei kali saana, hebu wacha nijitolee usinirarulie”.

I stepped aside and let her do what she knew best.

We cleaned the house for almost three hours.

By 1PM I was very tired and exhausted.

“I am supposed to meet someone in town at 2PM, could you ladies please excuse me” I told them and faked an excuse to get out of the house.

“Thanks John, you are a life saver, umetusaidia saana kufanya cleaning saa hizi tungekuwa bado tunasugua floor”, Clara told me as she bid me goodbye.

I went down the stairs very first and were it not for the five scantily dressed beautiful ladies I met, I could have landed like a batman on the ground floor.

“Excuse me, house number 2B iko wapi”, one of the ladies asked me.

“Panda tu hadi second floor, then turn left, it is the first house”, I told them and rushed to my car.

My joints, fingers, back and toes were numb, wet and aching.
My trouser was half wet and my t-shirt had absorbed almost two liters of soapy water.

I was smelling a combination of fresh Omo with with Powefform and Ushindi washing powder.

Someone knocked on my car window just as four cars with blasting music pulled by.

“Niaje bro, unajua kwa Clara? House 2B? Alisema tukifika tuulizie mtu yeyote atatudirect”, a half-drunk ugly dark tall guy asked me.

“Sio kwa hii plot, ni huko nyuma mmepita”, I told him and roared my engine.

Just as the man was about to enter his car Clara shouted from her balcony “Hey swithrt! I am here beib. I am already wet waiting for you”.

The man changed direction and started moving towards the house while the others from the four cars joined him shouting a lot of profanities.

I looked at my phone and saw a WhatsApp notification

“You have been added to Saturday’s Furaha na Marafiki Party at Clara’s House”

I smiled.
All the anger in me dried up.
My clothes and body dried up instantly.

Just before I got out of the car to join the party, another WhatsApp notification popped up,
“You have been removed from Saturday’s Furaha na Marafiki Party at Clara’s House!”

I looked at Clara and clicked.

I felt very angry.
Intense bitterness was welling up my body like mercury in a thermometer.
I was not angry at Clara
I was not angry at the girls.
I was not angry or envious of those useless men.

I was angry that I had spent my hard-earned money buying food and drinks that I would never eat or drink respectively.

Wewe Clara……..

Gatinaaa kau………