It’s holiday time, but don’t go ‘eating’ high school girls

One Sunday, last semester: after a week of swallowing antibiotics, the dose ended. I rushed to the wines duka and ordered the most toxic quarter bottle of affordable whisky.

Minutes later, tipsy like a nosy fish, I sauntered to the hostel tunefully whistling wanyaboro wanyaboro wanyaboro, behaving like my bank was otuch, yelling exaggerated goodwill greetings to the janitors and any Dick and Dorothy on the hallway.

So, there was I, in my room tumbling fast into an intoxication pit. I needed food. Meat. I staggered to the kitchen, sorry, to the corner we cook from.

It was a mess. All my utensils, three sufurias, two plates, one mwiko and my haggard looking spoons told the story of an ‘Escape from Sobibo’ gone bad.

My eyes darted to the upper cabin on the wall. In earnest search for the smoked beef mama sent from shags.

Another look at the utensils floating in the washbasin broke my heart. The smoker, my roommate, had invited his walevi friends and feasted on my beef. Imagine! They didn’t even leave behind a stranded piece. Very mean. Very inconsiderate.

Years ago, I was chasing this sweet luo-luhya girl who was in high school whilst I was a freshman. Her waist was 24. Her hips were 42. She was fine! Fine! She’d have made me chop my money! So, like a good mannered law abiding boy. I let her grow up.

College students pose to take a selfie

Finish her war with chemistry upon which she’d land into my open arms. And together we’d be boyfriend and girlfriend.

Cut to the chase, she, like my preserved smoked beef was eaten, just when I was ready to prepare her for a nice meal. And guess by who. One of those funny funny young boys who dance to that panda panda hip-hop song, who put on tight trousers that squeeze the air out of their testicles and beckon impotence.

For campo men zero grazing high school mummies, be on guard this holiday, some baby faced form two boy might eat your smoked beef. And remember, these girls are under 18.