‘Is This It?’ by Dave Ndyanabo

Oli kiliya(clear)?” ..came the rough retort from the bloodshot bangi-chewing bear of a man that was my housemate. It was what we chose to greet our lot in this dungeon we called a house- we had occupied one of those structures in the neighbourhood that had been abandoned before it had been completed. The gaping holes for window and doors weren’t a deterrent to our needs and after all the mosquitoes wouldn’t bother a soul or body long gone. In the corner by the window sat Umaru-a jack of all trade by day and a thief by night or was it the other way round? I forget. The owner of the rough voice that was bellowing in my face was Bondu and don’t ask me where he got it. All I know is he liked two things-cars and women; or the bangi I choose not to refer to for that was a part of him. Kind of like that dirty brown leather jacket that never left his back come high wind or blazing sun. He took the station to my right-near our bin whose purpose was mainly ornamental. Our house was a dump without trying. I chose the area nearest the door where I had the liberty to smoke without bothering the rest, if they were to be bothered anyway. Our beddings comprised of a stack of clothes bundled up on the floor as comfortably as we could make them for the short time we used them anyway. Sleep was a dire commodity to afford here. The swarm of mosquitoes -if you were sober-were not the best bedfellows. If you survived them there was the always the blazing deen from BOSCO’s the nearby bar; a mix of old Congolese tunes that poured out-at full volume-from the rickety speaker at the entrance of the bar we popped into occasionally. I had taken a liking to it not only for it’s convenience but because I had a credit line with Bosco, the talkative barman.

Circumstance had me drinking Tyson gin sachets on credit. Circumstance got me choosing whether to buy a Rolex for one thou or two sachets for supper. Circumstance visited and stayed. I contemplated this thought as I gathered my shirt round myself and prepared to step out for evening routine beckoned-same script, different episode. This dirty brown shirt used to be my Sunday-best in my blue-collar days. How had a smart guy with a promising career fallen to the bottom of this life pit? Well- the short end of this tale was the long legged goddess with the most soothing voice who I had the misfortune of meeting. Tabitha was no ordinary girl. We had just gotten off campus and I had just landed my first job in a bank; the pay was ok for one still under his father’s roof so the salary was mainly mine to blow paycheck to paycheck. A teller’s job was the most routine, mundane trip that one could ever imagine with obnoxious customers to boot but somehow I got to make it my own. I can’t seem to remember what made that day any different from the rest. It started and moved along in the same annoying pace with the only highlight being the end of the shift. That is until about 4 pm when she whiffed into the banking hall. Yes-all six inches on heels in a flowery sun dress that seemed to hug her-all in the right places. The gods smiled on me and she moved straight to my till. I wont remember what she said to me for I seemed transfixed by her eyes. They seemed abit slitted and gave off a lazy eyed drowsy effect on all who looked at them; in this case I was the hopeless candidate. I gathered myself and tried to serve her without appearing too moved even though I had developed a massive hard on and was happy I didn’t have to move out of my cage. Her business done in all of seven minutes, she flashed her thanks and was off walking forever to the door with a confidence that said “I know you like it but you can’t touch this”. This is precisely why I called her. Naturally I had gotten her details from her slip so after a few drinks with the boys and their urges I summoned the courage to call her.

I don’t know if it was the booze but I seemed Mr.Smooth on the phone that night and the call ended up in us setting a date for ice-cream for the weekend. The days dragged on and when Saturday came so did the same rush I felt when I first set eyes on her. For our date she choose another sun dress…(how many of these did she have)..this one was even more form fitting if that was possible and only resulted in me asking God why He had chosen to shower me with all this favour. In a minute we were hugging and I knew what heaven felt like. We sat and she ordered and we chatted or she talked and I listened. Her voice was something else..she seemed to talk with a statter like a car engine ta-tataring on and she seemed to follow each statement with a sigh. Smitten was the word. The date went off without a hitch and I found myself pinching myself for fear I was dreaming. We seemed to have lots in common and everything was rosy. Everything except the bill that is. I dunno If it was my infatuation with her but I didn’t think to notice that the ice-cream had been dispatched quite fast and was followed by a burger and fries then a mini piiza washed down with a redbull. This I divulged when I got the bill. What was a man to do but fork out the dough; lucky I had carried half my paycheck just to be safe. I didn’t allow that to sour a perfect date and we cleared and walked out of the café feeling like all the million bucks i had paid. The envy on every guy’s face was worth every penny. We parted company just out of the restaurant unfortunately as “she had to meet her friends”. This was after we had set our next date so i was not too sour.

We went on a few dates after that with the dresses getting shorter and the bills longer but i was none the wiser and she had promised me her panties. Yes-that’s what she had said in the middle of our fourth date-a moonlit boat cruise in Munyonyo. The most I had gotten at this stage was a peck on the neck and for one as hot blooded as me this was surely unbearable. So as I caught myself eyeing her as she sat sipping on her Fanta ever so sensually she said “I will give you my panties at the concert”. We had planned to go for the Lionel Richie concert in two weeks time and though it cost all my paycheck and then some more, I believed this would be the game changer. When she said that in that slow motion voice I found myself audibly swallowing and saying something unintelligent for what were words when there was sex.

The concert couldn’t come fast enough and I found myself slaving away at work while willing the days on. And when that Saturday dawned it had me up earlier than usual and the time till her evening text is what seemed to takes ages. When she sent the two liner “pick me”, I found myself in the car before I had shut the door. I was at her door like a flash and low and behold was she a sight for sore eyes. The micro-mini didn’t quite cover her ample behind and that’s all I could keep my attention on all night long. Even when Lionel came on the stage and the screams hit new decibels, I wouldn’t be bothered. As the night wore on I found myself wondering if Tabitha had forgotten her promise. But boy was I in for a suprise- she got up to dance to Do it to me and stuck her tongue in my ear and whispered “sorry no panties for you. I forgot them”. This was followed by a twirl and a rub-a-dub from that legendary ramp. I couldn’t contain myself and didn’t care that my pants threatened to tear loose. This night. This dancing. This panty-less company coupled with all other poisons ingested that night was just blowing my mind. As the show wound down she held my hand, led me to a far off corner where the sound was subtle, the crowd was thin and the air was electric. She pushed me down and stood over me, legs akimbo with her back to me. She proceeded to start a slow gyrate over me that left nothing to my imagination as i felt myself faint with hunger. I wanted this!
A slow wind culminated into a “paka chini” over my now released member that was tearing out of its skin. To say this was all i expected would be lying. It was more. Those long legs found angels i didn’t know existed and that tongue sang its own song down my ear, neck, side and trunk. I don’t remember how many times we quenched our collective thirsts but when we were done it seemed the concert had long gone.

I looked at her all sate and yet her eyes burned with a fire I hadn’t seen before. I reached up and she pushed me down again. She gave me the fullest kiss I could ever get, yanked up her skirt and proceeded to rub herself on my very aroused member. If I were to die now I would never complain as I planted myself inside this goddess and prodded, pumped, probed and filled myself. When the crescendo came it was wild, it was loud and it was native. The slow motion voice was transformed into a cats purr and she had claws to match-on my back they scrapped.

The night is forever etched in my mind. For that’s when this drug called Tabitha caused me to pull a fast one at the bank coz God knows I had to support her lavish lifestyle. Who was I to refuse? And when that earned me a sack and a short stint in jail, who was I not to sell my car to extend my lease on her and her comforts. When that too was exhausted and she glided out of my life as easily as she drifted in, what was I but a fool drowning his sorrows at kafunda after kafunda and using booze and bangi as my only refuge. Soon my folks grew tired of my drama and sent me scampering to my new found friends in the dime a dozen bars along Kamokya. These thoughts flashed through my mind as often they did and left me as dejected as a man staring at his worthless face in a dingy bar toilet mirror. Was this what all i amounted to? Was this all there was to my name? Would Tabitha give me a second of her time if she saw me now? I was interrupted by a loud cheer and an old time Pepe Kalle classic. Happy hour beckoned and my credit was still good at Bosco’s.



Written by Short Story Writing Competition (0)

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