Unlike
most of my age mates, I made my debut in the field of seduction when I was
nearly seventeen. I was one term away from sitting my KCPE exams and like every
other teenager, I was as hormone riddled as a lion in a pack. I was a big bag
of attitudes and hormones and was thoroughly hankering to find a girl to conquer
and clobber with love.
It is
worth mentioning that while I was merely ruminating about acquiring a
girlfriend, most of my peers were already thumping their newly acquired broad
chests while bragging in broken teenage voices about their escapades with girls
in the green-lodges of our village. For the uninitiated, green-lodge is a
figure of speech for bushes, thickets and sugarcane plantations. Don’t ask me
what kinds of mischief teenage boys with distorted vocal chords and giggly
teenage girls were up to in the middle of overgrown bushes! I don’t have an
answer. I may be uninitiated like you!
All I can tell you is that it is green and it is a lodge; green-lodge! End of
story!
Notwithstanding
the whirlwind of emotions and the raging hormones teenagers are known for, how
one was able to gather enough courage to do any kind of mischief in thickets
and bushes still baffle me to date. Sugarcane plantations and bushes are not
known for any form of comfort. Instead, they are famous for all manner of crawling
insects and bugs. Sometimes they are home to a host of slithering snakes and
fierce jackals. If the wild animals don’t get you, the owner of such a plantation
is likely to catch you pants down, quite literally. How girls who have been
known to scream at the mere sight of a cockroach would still get down to some
form of mischief in that kind of environment is more of an enigma than the
person of Raila Odinga!
BUY AND GET FREE DELIVERY!!!
BUY AND GET FREE DELIVERY!!!
But in
spite of such dangers, I too secretly longed for my share of green-lodge
conquests. You can call it peer pressure but I was about to sit for the biggest
exam of my life and I was filled with self-importance! I was a jatieko and I was dying to get initiated
into green-lodge monkey businesses of my village. Teenagers are like
thermometers you know, very easy to influence and I was not about to be the
exception.
Language
or its lack thereof, was not my only shortcoming. I was shy. Terribly shy! I
think I still am! It is one of those things you never outgrow. If one of the
Cuban doctors on loan to the GOK would have opened up me then, they would have
found thick pools of shyness coursing through my veins instead of blood. I was
so shy that I rarely spoke in class. I never took a question in class even if I
knew the answer – ask my English teacher if you think I’m kidding. And most of
the time I had the right answer, except I chose to remain as mute as a mouse.
And just
as I shunned questions in class, I avoided all form of contact with the
opposite sex like a plague. To make up for this, I developed a taste for the
fruit of knowledge and immersed myself in one storybook after the other. I
borrowed and read all the storybooks in my village. I was the designated village-borrower-in-chief.
And when there was not a storybook left to borrow, I graduated to thumping
through the next book available. I started reading the Bible! From the story of
creation, that of King David through to the book of Revelation; I read it all.
Three
things happened as a result of my reading spree. For starters, my father
mistook my Bible reading marathon for salvation. At one time, I overheard him proclaim
to our village preacher that “wuoda no
owar” (that son of mine is saved) Secondly, when I sat for my CRE paper in
the KCPE exams, you can bet your Facebook account that I passed with flying
colors. Whatever that means! And finally, back when the only English sentences
my classmates in the village could construct were “Please teacher, mia come in” and “Catch the disk” my command
of the written English was already up there.
Be that
as it may, storybooks or the Bible could not contain the rollercoaster of
hormones that were riding up and down my teenage body. My heart wanted what it
wanted.
As fate
would have it, one day while I was out with my brothers during our usual tangatanga excursions in the village, the
great goddess of passion dropped a rope ladder from heaven in the form of a
girl. We had gone to visit a classmate and as our host was giving a “push” back
home, my eyes spied the face of a girl peeking at us from the middle of some
thicket.
The face
produced a smile as its owner took a step into the open pathway and extended
one hand in greeting to our host while the other clutched a bunch of firewood.
My jaws instantaneously
dropped open as I simultaneously swallowed a lump of dry saliva. She was a
lovely spectacle for my hunger stricken eyesight that was more intimately acquainted
with books than girls. I remember taking in her full body in one clean sweep; a
pretty girl wearing a skirt that was warmly hugging her broad hips. Young
breasts stood majestically on her chest as their nipples pricked the soft
fabric of her top. Her voice when she spoke was a mixture of milk and honey,
very sweet and soothing! (There, I just lied. I have never consumed any concoction
of milk and honey and I have absolutely no idea what it is supposed to taste
like!)
Right
there and then, I decided that I was in love. It did not matter that I had no
idea what love was supposed to look like. I was going to make her mine. The fact
that i had no strategy was immaterial.
Back in
my village, there was only one borehole from where everyone in the village
fetched clean water for drinking. I took to frequenting this place in the hope
that I would stumble upon her there. My day of reckoning finally came one evening
during one of my patrols. And as I had
anticipated, there she was, drawing water. I malingered around from a distance as
I watched hawk-eyed for the moment she would leave. And leave she did, with her
water pot delicately balanced on top of her head. I followed discreetly from a
distance, working up a scripted dialogue in my head on what I would say. Like
an actor, I rehearsed my lines. I was surprisingly unafraid. This would be easy
once the conversations begun, I said to myself. I was a bag of teenage
confidence. I felt light as the spring on my feet came to life. I found myself
adopting a swagger as I slithered one hand into my pocket. Nonchalantly, I
broke a blade of grass and stuck it in my mouth. I was a buoyant lion stalking
its prey!
My heart
pounded with excitement as I followed. I kept my distance as I scoured my surrounding
for signs of any adult. Those were the days when literally anyone could give
you several licks of the cane for misbehaving with girls. I was not very keen
on drawing unwanted adult attention to myself. When I was certain it was safe, I
cleared my throat and called out her name. She stopped and turned around. You
can imagine the jolt of confidence that shot through me; it was a raw boost of
adrenaline. I was now a man capable of commanding a girl to stop and she would
oblige.
I moved
in for the kill. Before I could extend my skinny paws in greeting, she looked
directly at my face without batting an eyelid and blurted in a not-so-friendly
voice;
“Idwaro ang’o?” (What do you want?)
I was
momentarily taken aback. Her demeanor when she spoke portrayed that of someone
who was not about to entertain nonsense from any boy. I was quick enough to
return my arms by my side where they hung limb. I forced myself to return her
stern gaze. She did not look away like I had expected. I quickly darted my gaze
away. I was beginning to fidget but I somehow managed to get out a reply.
“I
wanted to talk to you”
“OK.
Talk!” she shot back
Two very
brief words; but they cut through my confidence like a knife through butter. My
heart begun to pump faster! Suddenly, my throat felt dry. I swallowed a blob of
saliva in a vain attempt to clear the nuisance. It did not work. The youthful
swagger with which I had sauntered up to her begun to fade away! This was out
of script and definitely not how I had meticulously planned our conversation in
my head. Nothing had prepared me for this. I managed to hide my panic and said;
“I sent
someone to you”
“I did
not receive” she replied immediately as if she was expecting that question.
My knees
became weak. Right there and then, I begun to wish that someone would come
along; it did not matter who. All I wanted was a way out of this quagmire; an
excuse to end the conversation that I was ill equipped to hold. Unfortunately,
no one came. Not even a stray dog. Meanwhile, she kept looking at my face
without flinching. I did not realize it then but I started plucking at the
grass while drawing funny sketches on the ground with my foot. Sensing my discomfiture,
she prodded helpfully;
“So why
did you send someone to me?”
By now,
my teenage voice was so dry and burning I longed for a glass water. Inside, I
trembled like a leaf at the onslaught of her eyes. Clearly I had no idea that I
was dealing with someone who had handled boys before. I do not know where the
energy came from but I managed to say almost in a whisper.
“Nadwari osiep!” (I wanted your
friendship)
“Alafu?” (Then what?)
Have you
ever found yourself in a situation where you wished the ground could open up
and swallow you alive? This was it for me. I began to sweat. Tiny beads of
sweat on my nose, armpits and God knows where else.
“Kasto wabedo osiep” (Then we become
friends) I answered sheepishly. The next words that came through her mouth blew
what was left of my ego to smithereens.
“I don’t
want!”
“Kare
oriti” (Bye then)
I managed
to whisper a barely audible bye as I turned on my heels. I walked away as fast
as my spindly legs could carry me. I did not look back. I walked like my life depended on it. No more swagger, tail firmly tucked between my legs; embarrassed and humiliated beyond repair. I did not stop along
the way until I reached home. To this day, I still remember the exact spot in
our village where I faced my first attempt at seduction; and my first
rejection from a girl.
