He said “come to my place around 5 in the evening,call me when you get to Westlands”. I nodded a yes. He could carry a conversation about antimicrobial resistance and could tell the difference between Michael Jackson from Elvis Presley…why the hell not? He paints. We can talk about art. Besides, he had been a gentleman, not like those bohemian savages who send me texts that demand an immediate response as though the date would save us from global warming. Around 5, I left the office and got on my bike to Westlands. The traffic in Nairobi…arrrg but there was a little problem. I did not know where “My place” was. So I asked around. The touts, who usually know every corner of the city including where the president has his fix, did not know where My place was. My face lit up. Google, everyone’s best friend, should know! It was there alright. In the United Kingdom, not Kenya. Then my phone died. F***! Was it a new joint? So after 20 minutes of asking, I gave up. I went home. At 8 in the night, he sent me a message that I had stood him up. “Well I looked for My place and nobody knew where it is, then my phone died and I left”. His response? It confirmed that I am officially the reigning queen of social awkwardness. He texted: “I meant my house, not a public joint”.
So now I am hungry for ten people, at this foreign airport and I feel like the synapses between my brain and body are dulled. I am tired. I am narrating this to my godfather on WhatsApp about how my last date turned out. It didn’t happen.You should hear the excitement in his voice face when I tell him I am going on a date. He is a pastor of a Pentecostal church. Naturally, he believes in a balance between career and family. I always tell him “God will send a man dad” to which he will scoff “oh wow to a woman who works 15 hours a day seven days a week! He sure is a miracle worker”.
In my 29th birthday I promised myself I would be more social. That has been harder than I thought, especially with men my age. No I don’t have esteem issues. Quite on the contrary. On a scale of 10, I would rank myself a 7 on physique scale. I can carry a conversation about any subject from pathology to scientology. Blame that on Catholic schooling and reading anything I come across.
Occasionally, I play musical instruments….basic enough for me display some sentimental bastardy like sing Fadhili Williams’ Malaika. I design and sometimes tailor my own dresses. You can peruse my Facebook page here and buy or order for any of the pieces there
I love children sometimes I wonder whether I would discipline mine…. ah now you see why my godfather keeps asking “where did I go wrong with you?”.
The second date couldn’t have been weirder. This one was a doctor. Surely it couldn’t have been more perfect! I love healthcare so much I have dedicated my life to writing about it. So at some high end joint in Nairobi, he asked me what I would like to drink. I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet so he ordered for Guarana, to which I added to the waiter “kaka na ulete ikiwa moto kabisa na Tangawizi!” (bro, bring it really hot with Ginger). I saw how his friends were looking at me and I wondered what was wrong with my request. Let me add that for this date I came dusty. I was coming from Kitengela, on a bike, and the dust was unforgiving .I did not want to keep the doctor waiting so I issued a disclaimer that I was going to be a little…decorated. When the drink came… oh Guarana is a bottled! But surely he knows I don’t drink so why he would ask for Guarana for me I don’t understand.
Then there was the photographer. The one who said “umesimama”, which is Swahili for “you have stood up”. So I apologised profusely for blocking his view of the screen in front of us. He actually meant to compliment me because “umesimama” is Sheng’ (that’s like distorted Swahili) for “You are cute”.
Then there was one who introduced me to his sister, who we went to pick from the airport. All the way to the airport I put my music on and I completely forgot that I had company in the car. You see I have been learning Spanish and my excitement at carrying on a sentence in that language has pushed me to Spanish music . So I was singing loudly to some single in Spanish, including playing the guitar parts with my mouth. So we got to the airport and his sister hugged me. Oh I love hugs. She be like “Vashti I have heard so much about you”. I was thinking “Girl I hope they have been good things, including that time I ate the cake meant for your niece’s birthday…I was hungry”. So I asked her “When are you due?”. She looked heavily pregnant. She kept quiet. I continued “I am a tailor I have awesome ideas about maternity…” she interrupted to say she is not pregnant. Oi!
So now we just have to pray more for my godfather to weather my status.