Celebrating East African Writing!
|A pair, pairs and groups of students jammed the corridors walking, talking, stalking or just stalling. One’s individual noise teamed up with the rest to create a deep hum that was frequently broken by a rather loud feminine laugh, an obscene curse, exclamation or a deep voice of an excited male.
It was about twenty minutes after eight and the compound looked strange and seductive because of the security lights on the buildings and corridors.
On the floor and in the paths, groups and pairs stood, some of them in hardly concealed romantic stints.
At the end of the corridor on the first landing, a tall hunky guy was leaning on the wall with a raised elbow. Underneath his armpit, a plump stocky girl with curvy features was crowdedly sandwiched between him and the wall. She seemed not to mind the space or lack of it and was in fact looking cozily fascinated by his face and spilling with occasional giggles.
I was a stranger in a strange place.
I looked around at the melodramas gracing each direction and shivered. When will I ever be like them or them? When will the care-free fever of freedom and friendship overtake me?
I looked out for at least one person that would look familiar to me even remotely. Boy! All of them were strangers. I tried looking out for lonely new arrivals like me but everyone seemed to know each other except me. I was completely busted and blasted.
I went back into the Dining Hall and spent the rest of the evening watching boring programs on the telly. In the left section, some students were shooting pool, playing table tennis and darts while the rest teamed up as spectators and idlers. Some of these idlers were smoking while others were busy chewing mouthfuls of miraa. Smoking and chewing was a special ingredient to this group.
A sprinkling of girls too was either some of the players, spectators, cheering squad, smoking squad or mere witnesses.
Outside the D. Hall was the meeting point for the talkers, narrators, inspirers and the listeners, still; lovers, lovers-to-be and potential lovers. One couple was proving quite creative; the gentleman having it nice and slow with his hands thrust deep into the girl’s butt pockets and rummaging occasionally.
A drunken couple swaggered into the arena and started a hilarious drunken cacophony.
“Look at this weird whore! What good do you cheat people to possess? Look at your ugly withered tits that look like loose untied shoe laces. And this hair….hair that looks like a bucketful of wet pubic hair!”
The crowd of witnesses roared and doubled with stitches of laughter.
“Big mouth and a stunted manhood! Look at him and you might be intimidated. The tallest and fattest he can go with his thing is the size of a ball pen cap.” She indicated by showing an upright thumb on a closed fist. “So knotted and disjointed I felt nothing of him until I disgustingly pulled it out. It shrunk back to his stomach. What a cheap lousy lay!”
The cheering squad festered with more jest. It is one thing to attack a man and another one to attack him through his manhood. There seemed to be a finger of truth for the man in question immediately mastered the face of an angry warthog.
“You stinking pile of garbage!” He shouted angrily.
“And you stinking Cabbage-head, buster!” She shot back at him with the same vigor.
“Your mother must have conceived you while suffering from acute gonorrhea infection and foul-smelling flour-generating groin dandruff, reason…….”
“I was so desirable you could not resist coming to seek for my sweet dandruff and gonorrhea juice!” She blurted with a lop-sided grimace.
It was too much for him. He stepped forward and dished out a swooping bang on her face that made the noise of a sudden splash of water onto a wall. A jet of saliva was thrown off the corner of her mouth as the force of the slap jerked her head to one side. The assault took some time before it finally registered into her gloomy brain.
The crowd of spectators cut off their jest and broke ranks. Students would hardly condone a man who assaults women with no valid reasons. Several guys actually stepped forward to restrain and reprimand the guy for slapping her.Others had just found an opportunity to discipline an errant college buddy.
“Look at you, silly man, can’t you get a man to fight with?” Someone scoffed.
“Manner-less rodent, you are truly physically handicapped! You fight with women? What kind of a man?” Someone had already grabbed him by the collar. One start-it-up swoop and the guy would be a goner.
“Leave him and let him slog me!” shouted the girl. She stood her ground, defiant and unbowed.
The assault had finally registered and she was now shaking and hyperventilating with rage. Her glazed eyes had turned wild and murderous and her fight/flight gauge was rising alarmingly up. Soon, her pent up wrath was going to blast the roof tops. The wise had said it long time, no wrathful person than a wronged woman. As the men battled with this aggravated guy, the girl rent the air with a wild screeching scream.
They saw her coming with the speed of a run-away carriage and kept clear. Her fingers were a set of claws facing different directions.Her drunken attacker was too slow for a quick retreat.
She jumped on him with a tackling fierceness, hugged and caressed his head while cuddling it severely. In a moment, she was done and stepped back to admire her work. Several white slashing marks on his face quickly turned crimson as they filled with blood. He touched one scratch and observed blood oozing down his fingers. In a moment, he screamed wretchedly and broke down into jerky tears.
Under her nails was enough meat to fix a meal!
“You’ve got your medication brother, don’t worry, does happen once in a while.” Someone consoled.
Someone else was at pains explaining how night girls are tough and manly.
“Don’t ever assume they are just girls, these ones have thorns, claws and warts, a different mix all together. They can really bite!”
Then the man got real accused by the same crowd that cheered his theatrics moments ago.
“Man, are you crazy? How can you publicly declare that this girl has hair that looks like wet pubic hair in a bucket? How demeaning! What’s this about gonorrhea and dandruff juice? Are you nuts or you got one or both? How would you like your sister to be told the same? You deserve a real beating!”
This writer has just released his first book, a children’s book titled Peanut and the Burning Tank, published by Storymoja. For more information on the hilarious book go to http://www.storymojaafrica.co.ke