I have not been to these city streets of late. Recently when I heard that vehicles shall be chased from some major streets so that we can enjoy a car free city twice a week, I resurfaced.
I did not just come to the city out of my own volition. I was summoned by my vendor who refers to himself as an open air market entrepreneur. My personal designer, the one and only Man Kamaa is a major beneficiary of the new arrangement to rid some streets of cars on some selected days of the week.
On those particular days, dealers in ‘previously enjoyed’ clothes shall be allowed to display and sell their wares on those car free streets for the whole day.
When news reached him that he shall be selling his wares in such lucrative streets as Mama Ngina Street, Taifa Road and Harambee Avenue, he placed an order for a truckload of clothes from his suppliers.
He claims to be the sole vendor for Chicago Bulls jerseys that are still warm from the bodies of renowned NBA stars.
The first thing that he does when his consignment lands is to call all his high net worth clients. I fall in this category. Anyone who can purchase a tired polyester jersey for one hundred shillings without bargaining is considered a preferred buyer and is put on his speed dial.
So when he called me and informed me of the car free days and new stocks arrivals, I decided to go and experience the new developments first hand. He led me to a back street where he showed me the newest arrivals.
The garment in question was a pair of basketball shorts that is ideal for wearing to bed at night.
He managed to convince me that a man of the house should always wear something presentable when he goes to bed because in this city, you never know when you shall be called upon to dash out in the middle of the night.
In case you are not well dressed, or not dressed at all, then you are likely to cause a huge embarrassment or permanent blindness to anyone who witnesses you running around with ashen legs and a hairy chest.
After intense negotiations that rivalled bilateral loan negotiations with a multinational lender, I settled for a pair of shorts and a vest that was closely matching in colour.
NOT IN VAIN
My new purchases have not been in vain and I do not regret the two hundred shillings that I spent on the two clothing items.
Baba Cynthia who is my neighbour in Leafy Suburbs has a habit of reporting home in the wee hours of the morning when the roosters have already grown hoarse of crowing.
Recently he arrived home when the sun was almost peeping and ready to rise, and his wife refused to open the door for him.
She accused him of trying to create a love triangle with an alcoholic beverages service assistant in the neighbourhood outlet where he had been dispensing his salary in exchange for adult beverages.
In retaliation, he proceeded to break the windows and call his wife a few unsavoury names.
Everyone in Leafy Suburbs was ruffled, but no one was courageous enough to venture out.
When thieves come or when there is loud thunder, it is among the few times that some men get to be held tightly by their wives. It is always a moment to be cherished and capitalised upon.
Some men take the advantage of the situation at hand to change the demographics of the estate and name their fathers, but I digress.
Baba Cynthia broke a few other innocent windows and Kush from eleventh floor who is built like a prize bull was the first out, followed by the rest of us in quick succession.
We all landed outside Baba Cynthia’s house and that is when everyone realised the absurdity of the situation.
Kush was bare chested and with a lot of contentious hairs popping out of his armpits. Two men were still in office wear which tells you that they had been sleeping on the sofa in the sitting room as retribution for various domestic sins they had committed.
There were quite a few trendy boxers and lingerie I must admit, but several horrible ones too.
I quietly thanked Man Kamaa, I was the only one shining in Chicago Bulls shorts and a matching vest.
Derrick our estate security services consultant was serenading the domestic secretary from house No. 78. Her top tank was a few sizes smaller which made her outfit to be quite distracting.
He was telling her he had just single headedly repulsed 13 heavily armed thugs with a stick, and she appeared to fall in love with that kind of chivalry.
Baba Cynthia finally cooled down and retreated into his house in the wake of our might and numbers.
We all scampered back upstairs, there was still a lot to be done before the sun reared its shiny head to signal the start of another day.