“I hereby order and direct the nationwide dusk-dawn curfew to be vacated with immediate effect.” President Uhuru Kenyatta - October 20, 2021.
Who would have thought the President would help me cement my relationship. From the moment he uttered these words, it was on. Anne and I have been on and off for three years, or rather two because 2020 was a ghost of a year.
Her profession also made it almost impossible to create the amount of time I needed to showcase my ‘together forever’ credentials. For all the guys out there dating nurses and doctors, I salute you.
I was doing my best impression of a happy dance around my living room when my phone lit up. Caller ID - Anne.
“Hello,” I answered, trying my best to maintain a cool aura. For some reason, my voice tried to hit baritone notes I didn’t know it could.
“Mambo Shujaa. Did you watch the President’s speech?" She had me at shujaa - She always knew what to say to turn my Githurai hardened heart into jello.
“Yes, I did. I was just about to call you ata. Great minds think alike,” I stated while doodling with my feet.
This was big news for us.
We had vowed to have a date night/sleepover when our beloved president lifted the dusk-to-dawn curfew that had been in effect since March last year.
Tonight was the night.
I told her I had everything in place and reassured her that I had not broken my promise for the hundredth time.
“Nope, I haven’t watched Squid Game, si I told you I’d wait for you no matter how long it took,” the baritone voice was gone.
“Nidanganye tu but I’ll know when I get there. I should be huko by kitu 11pm after I clock out,” she stated.
I reassured her that I hadn’t taken a sneak peek into the South Korean TV sensation, told her my plans for the evening and hung up.
I don’t know why, but time seems to grind to this snail-like crawl when you are looking forward to something… Add the fact that I was currently enjoying my leave days and you get what I was going through.
At around a quarter to 3 pm I decided to head to the local store for some supplies.
Soda, snacks, serviettes (in case this Squid game thing was a tear-jerker), I got them all and headed back after what seemed like an eternity.
Time check 3:15 pm...sigh.
Not one to find any kind of sleep during the day, I decided to bury my head in some FIFA...It worked. Before I knew it, darkness had snuck into my one bedroom apartment.
Time check 9:15 pm...no curfew.
I called Anne again just to be sure we were still on before ordering in. The pandemic had turned me into a food-ordering monster.
A lady in the neighbourhood started out as a Coop Bank agent and made the unexpected shift to the food business.
We thank God she did because her paper-thin layered-chapatis are to die for. Her money agent shop was still functional, but she had handed that to one of her kids and chose to focus on sharing her God-given gifts in the kitchen.
I knew Anne loved rice, so I ordered some chicken biryani for her. Being in a long-term relationship with chapati for the best part of two decades now, my choice of food was straightforward...Chapati and coconut beans, plus some traditional veggies on the side.
At around 10:30 pm I got a double surprise when I went to answer my door.
There she was in her dazzling glory. Despite working for the last 1,000 hours (I may be exaggerating), she still looked imperial.
Her hair was midnight-black and it tumbled over her sculpted shoulders. She had a decanter shaped waist and her complexion was a fountain of melanin. A sculptor could not have fashioned her any better.
A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed as she smiled at my surprise-riddled face.
That smile. That damned smile.
“Hapa ni kwa Chris?” she asked cheekily. “Your order is ready,” she added while handing me the packages.
I couldn’t help but laugh as we hugged, holding on for a little longer than usual. We had been through a lot over the last three years.
I ushered her in and we were soon yapping on like long lost friends as we gobbled up mama Mwende’s food.
I had already queued up Squid Games on the TV as promised, and were soon engrossed in the thriller, cuddled up on my three-seater sofa.
Anne would bury her perfectly manicured nails on my arms during the cringy scenes and they were many I tell you.
Disaster struck halfway through episode three.
Aptly named the man with the umbrella, the show had been building up to this crescendo and as soon as the protagonist (Gi-hun, not sure about the spelling) opened his honeycomb...lights just decided it was time to take a break.
I could tell it wasn’t an entire estate blackout as rays of light from my neighbors plus the security lights snuck through the edges of my living room drapes.
This was a token kind of problem.
I ran to my kitchen to prove my theory and I was right. Surely Chris...you had one job, I told myself.
I had nothing on M-pesa and it was well past witching hours.
I staggered back to the living room using my phone's internal torch for navigation.
“Ni units?” the psychic Anne asked.
“Yep. I was so excited to see you leo I forgot to reload them. Pia sina any on M-Pesa. Si we can act out the rest of the show in theories,” I stated.
“Not funny,” she replied. “I also used up all the money I had kwa phone nikilipia cab,” she added.
I trooped back to the kitchen and came back with some candles I must have bought back in 2010 or something.
I was surprised to find her smiling. It was the kind of smile that said ‘I know something you don’t.”
“Do you still have that Co-op Bank app you are always going on and on about?” she asked.
That’s when it hit me.
I loaded up more tokens via internet banking and we were soon back to Anne burying nails in me and me trying my best not to scream like a four-year-old.
Then, just as horrific as the TV show we were binging on, there was a knock on the door.