Skip to contentSearch for:Go!HomeAboutBlogPortfolioLandscape/PropertyLifestyle PortraitsCorporateWildlifeContact UsA bachelor’s ideal Saturday evening – A Kenyan Bachelor narrative poetryHome / 2016 / December / 8 / POETRY / A bachelor’s ideal Saturday evening – A Kenyan Bachelor narrative poetryA bachelor’s ideal Saturday evening – A Kenyan Bachelor narrative poetryDecember 8, 2016by Erick VatetaNo comment(s)POETRYA Kenyan Talk, Kenyan Story, Poetic story in Kenya, Poetry in Kenya
So, it started as a slow Saturday evening; cloudy, moody sunrise coming through the dirty window creating a warm and cold feeling at the same time – very un-magical feeling. Then out of nowhere, stress kicks in. A pile of clothes is waiting on the sofa, the electricity token thing is at 1.1, the tiles have turned brown instead of sticking to their original white color…I hate those things, they never get clean. I started visiting every room in the house – sorry every corner of my bedsitter. Took my camera and captured some pictures of the fixtures on the wall. I thought photography would get a trophy for winning over the creeping boredom. Nothing!
I switched on the TV at least to view those who are destined for stardom. But GoTv doesn’t have channels that have the latest series and movies, you know? I selected KTN, a condom advert was running. The one where a mjengo guy turns out to be a DJ and a nerd dressed like a puppet becomes a good dancer and gets the girl – who comes up with these stuff? I liked the one a condom is put on a banana – at least it shows a stiff stuff.
Anyway, the TV didn’t help out. I got the phone out. The gadget is always influential, mostly when a politician has stolen money and the court can’t get substantial evidence to incriminate him, instead they jail an imposter – Twitter becomes the police and prosecutor. But on this day Twitter was not interesting. The tags were extremely boring – PR and GainWith stuff covered the whole listing. None made sense to me that particular evening.
From Twitter I went straight to my phone-book. I searched for a girl I can book for the night and maybe Sunday. ‘She must know how to cook’. I thought. The eye keenly scrolled down the unfamiliar names and letters saved on the book but the brain couldn’t settle on a name because it was hard to place a face on the names. I moved straight to WhatsApp. The app allows you to view names and faces which made it easy for me to choose a girl. I settled for Sunday Galileo. I don’t know why I saved the name that way, but I figured there must be a genuine reason behind the name Sunday Galileo.
I thought of the best words to write on the chat box albeit being unfamiliar with the lady – my date to be or rather Sunday Galileo. It was hard to type stuff on the phone – probably because my hands were not interpreting the message from the brain in the right way. The lady seemed jovial and fun to hangout with. Her epic body depicted from the profile pic was not to be ignored, I touched the call button – perhaps my mouth could bring on board a tremendous convincing power.
After a few seconds, “Hey you…why are you calling me fuckboy!? Just do me a favor, hang up and take your shitty head to the toilet.” She hanged up.
That was a very brief and abusive conversation. Now, I went back to my thinking-board…clicked the lady’s WhatsApp contact – zoomed in the profile picture which was not very clear. It was a little distorted and blurry…’maybe she shot it with a cheap smartphone’. I thought.
Kumbe, two months ago I forgot a girl in a restaurant. We met on Facebook and planned a date on a Sunday at Galileo. The date was great – we shared stories and experiences bla bla bla! I think she even mentioned her name which I forgot later on in the night, so I chose Sunday Galileo since it seemed appropriate and relevant in a way. Apparently, my ex was also in Galileo that night. When I was going to take my date’s third order – which was a pain in the ass because the bill situation was not favorable at all. I met the ex on the counter and immediately there was a spark.
The ex was a little drank and I think she had forgotten the fact that we had broken up a few weeks ago. After a chat – laughs then Uber we were out of there.
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