There's a Nairobi in our bushy town. There's a new mall and among it's greatest attractions is a barbershop. Having hibernated in the interior throughout the last sixty days thanks to the pocket drought, I looked like a kid staring at the new structure and its 'nairobiness' . My curiosity led me to the spacious barbershop with its exquisite interior design, uniformed ladies and boys who had that fake customer care softness and a peculiar demeanour.
My kinky hair made a series of blushes amongst the barbers. A super kindness that was irresistible saw me fall for the antics of a young lady, most probably a victim of the pangs of KNEC since amidst her politeness, sadness was evident in her eyes,a regret,a bittersweet feeling of getting a job despite failing/ suspending her youthful dreams. Her touch was numbing as she dressed my neck with a white sheet that made me look like a candidate for circumcision or priesthood in a white robe. Her fingers were soft as she tucked in edges of the sheet in my neck. My attention was awakened when she asked how I wanted my hair trimmed. Ladies have a great way in dragging us astray. My common barber since primary school knew what to do with my hair, so was my college brute. And now the lady was staring at me through the mirror waiting for my instructions while my mind was elsewhere, thinking of her curves, the upper protrusions were tempting, a pair of steep,firm and pointed muscles that were rubbed on my back as I imagined them elsewhere.
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| She took all the oxygen near my nostrils,, competing for the scarce resource. PHOTO;Courtesy |
" Follow the shape of the head and the direction of the hair. Do a simple haircut, simply smart." I spat knowing that I sounded stupidly blunt. She must have got my message, do what you deem fit, you are in charge. Her sly smile told it all. She took the machine, treated it,tested it on her hairless chin and convinced it was fine, she started working on my head both in and on...
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| She expertly worked on my heads both in and on.... |
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Breaking loose
The outcome of the service was awesome. My bus shaped head had it's maiden shave by a lady. It was like the proverbial stone, it hit two birds at the same time and a bard too. It took the longest time ever,to shave, share, flatter and change contacts. Caution slipped cautiously and ease was gained in a short while.
" What do you do for a living? " she asked on noting that words were hiding in the eyes and the pretentious smile. What do I do for a living? An off guard query, a mask to start a conversation and a proof of interest.
" Well, I'm a wordsmith, I weave words for a living. Eating keeps me moving too." She smiled,seeking clarity. I overlooked that and shifted her attention elsewhere.
"So what's your name on Facebook?" She took the blow dryer ( that gun like noise making machine) to blow away the remnants of her work on my head. A rarity in my old barber's base, his was a fly-whisk that left itching pieces of hair around the neck. She acted busy,carefully following the lines of my side beards,ensuring her nostrils scooped any oxygen near my face,a competition for the resources or maybe a foreshadow of sharing the basic resource.
" I am Prudence Waridi." She knew her dice, rolled it with amazing brevity and composure.
"Wow. No wonder your fragrance,tenderness and conspicuity are easily spotted,oh Mademoiselle La Rosa." I had to fix the British accent and delay every word for emphasis. The impact couldn't be any better.
"Awe. How much am I paying for that mister weaver bard? "
She was smart, and humorous too. I pitied the skewed assumption and would later apologise for it. The payment part was a loophole she may have not foreseen.
" For you, I'll charge heavily. What of an hour in the Coffee Shoppe?" She washed my head with excess shampoo. Probably, enjoying the delay of scrubbing and massaging the head. I was almost regretting the outburst when her feminine voice whispered into my ear,
" How did you know I'm single?"
The notch was higher. Too fast maybe. At this rate, my M-shwari debt was pestering.
"When are we meeting?"
That was how her number found it's way on my contact list.
The shave was done. The shape was done. I paid her and as I straightened the collar, she answered.
"I'll text."
The date
Having the privilege of my attention, she knew how to exploit it. She didn't call after an hour. She didn't call after two. She sent a simple message 'Good night Gentleman' at six in the evening. Quite early, I thought. It wasn't. An ice breaker it was,a call for shots.
We had a great chat. Nothing in particular, random hide and seek game. Before midnight, we had a date in two days.
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Learning any sensible lesson is basically out of a mistake. Mine couldn't be worse. Never let a lady know where you'll take her in advance. Not that it's harmful, it is a lifetime disaster especially for a stranger. She had arrived before time, made acquaintances with the surrounding and spread her plan like rice for drying.
Anxiety had me change clothes thrice. Settling for a traditional simple black suit and a white shirt took ages. The excitement led my reason astray. She's just another one in the list,I dared comfort my mind. But there was something curious, critical and unique about her. She appeared simple though mysterious. Her dress code, a knee-length maroon dress, matching shoes, earrings and a bracelet was a perfect combination of beauty and class. Her minimum makeup, almost similar to the skin was akin to elegance. Thanks to my potatoes' sale, I had six thousand, five hundred in my pocket,I would have walked away. Money exudes confidence,boldness and manliness in men, the reverse is true.
The restaurant was on the second floor of the mall. It was a spacious room with mirrors and a big flat screen TV. Waridi had chosen the table in a corner. She was sipping passion juice as I entered. She stood, revealing her curves,tempting than the devil. There was no regret, she was worth the while. Her hug and peck sent shivers across my nerves. She whispered, "you'll get more, let's eat, then you'll eat me." She said pointing to her heaving chest.
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I left the hotel a few minutes to seven. I could be dead,I was alive. My black suit was absent, so was my wallet and shoes. Luckily, the hotel room had slippers and my briefs were not so brief. She was kind enough to leave my phone, IDs and a hundred bob. There was a text message,
" I will explain later, love you."
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