F for Freedom
Guys, have you ever found yourself between a rock and a hard place? She asks you a question, you want to be honest, completely honest with her, but the truth you are about to tell her sounds like a lie. You know she wouldn’t fall for it completely. So what do you do instead, you lie. Not because you want to but because she asked for it.
We’ve been down this road again, have we? Here
I went to Githurai, the original Githurai, and bought a bra. I did not intend to go and buy bras today. In fact, all I wanted was to go and come back in one piece with my phone obviously.
So here I am pale Githui, 44 or 45 I don’t know but just there on the roundabout looking for outfits to drink your ladies. Githurai is the black market we need. Anything you want is there; in fact you’ll find someone selling you traffic lights, and iPhones with the fingerprint sensor on the back.
One God, can cheat can die: Kinyua, before getting the Kanairo orientation, once bought a sack of potatoes only to find out it was avocado seeds. But you guys will just think it’s a story I am beating for you.
So I went there, looking for anything that will please the eye. But mostly I was after shirts and probably a hoodie since Bubu decided my hoodies will be safer at her place. Anywhoos.
Two rules to remember. Rule number one – don’t trust anyone. Rule number two – always remember rule number one.
The last time I was out shopping in Gikomba, I had the intention of buying some pair of jeans and those expensive baseball t-shirts. So I bought them and in my head, all I was thinking was how I would streak you guys donning that outfit.
The problem came during packaging, those very kindhearted guys said they would pack the things for me and I let them. They gave me my carrier bag and I was on my way to Odeon smiling like I had won a jackpot. I soon found out that what they packed for me was a bedsheet from a government hospital with ‘GOK’ printed all over it. Cheso! Some lessons!
So here at this ‘thrift store’, you have to be extra careful as you might buy a mwiko and find out later it has the ‘Sunrise; and Sunset;’ thingie.
This time I was all eyes. Heck, I even had my own backpack this time. I got what I needed, a pair of funnel shirts and I was on my way to my little bungalow in Gwa Kairu. Those yengs are not ready!
Another rule I forgot, never make eye contact with the sellers or look at any product of theirs you are not interested in. I threw a glance and our eyes met with this lady just on my way out, I then looked at her wares and even before I could say anything, she was already half dragging me and pleading ‘Kuja kijana yangu, karibia…’
Apparently she was selling girl thingies. I actually thought they were kid clothes until she told me the Generation Z calls them crop tops. I decided I would get a few for Bubu too, but she just didn’t have what I was after. I know that girl; I might get her something she doesn’t like and I will be forced to wear it.
Then the idea came from the lady, I should get her a bra instead. I have never loved bras. Immediately I see one, I just want to take it off. Respectfully.
But women don’t need bras to survive. Just like how I walk commando — hey my eyes are up here — women can walk braless. It is liberating. Why do you (we???) wear bras even? Ladies don’t you think it is toxic? It is just societal rules construed by men to stiffen your growth. Hello? Are there any feminists here?
Mekatilili Wa Menza did not challenge patriarchy for you to retrograde us like this? When God told Pharaoh “Let my people go,” He was not just talking about the Israelites.
This is something I have needed to get off my chest (Ha! Did you see what I did there?) forced metaphor aside. Speaking of bras, have I told you I’m a boobs guy?
If you ask any average guy what the first thing he notices about a woman, he’ll likely tell you her big smile, her bright blue eyes, bla blaaaaa blaaskdjflsdfk. That is a lie. It is her bosom. Chest. Kifua.
God didn’t create Eve’s boobs so that Adam could ogle at her wavy hair or her slutty leaf skirt. You know it. I know it. God knows it.
Boobs are proof that God can be cheeky.
Maybe I am overcompensating, but scientists have recently discovered that if you sleep while holding boobs, your chances of dying decrease by 50%. Who am I to argue with science?
I feel like boobs have not been given enough exposure. Which reminds me – ladies, please when you come for a sleepover, stop leaving your bras under my bed. You are landing me in trouble with the ‘plumber’.
Do you know why boobs are nice? Because they are close to the heart. You know what else is close to the heart? Blood. Can you live without blood? No. EXACTLY.
Did you know your left boob is bigger than the right? I thought you should know. It’s not because you have a big heart, it’s just science.
Now where were we?
She asked me what size she wears and that question threw me off balance. What does she mean size? What size does she wear to be honest? Is there a size for this things?
Reminds me of the other day she sent me to the supermarket and all she said was, “Babe get me chocolates, you know which ones I love”. Trust you me, I have never been scared in my life like that time.
Now I need to buy her a bra. As someone who always knows what they want, I wanted a resurrecting bra.
Not those women of guild bras that cover even the neck, no. I’m talking about the lacy ones. Those ones that will decorate her chest with a soul snatching cleavage. Those ones that, if you sneeze one good one, food of children spills from your chest and accidentally lands in the mouth or hands of somebody else’s son. Those ones.
Anyway, I gave a good estimate on what would fit her and I got her one. Have I done anything bad yet?
Something whispers that I shouldn’t tell her I bought her the bra instead I should wait until she visits then voila, surprise! So far so good.
I get home, wash it and put it in my closet. I stash it on the farthest corner and me and my clueless brain cells wait for the lady. What we didn’t know is that I had just landed myself in a bubbling tank of molten metal.
Days go by and I forget about it. When she decides to pop up, I am away running ‘errands’. Guys whenever you are wrong even the universe conspires to tell you she’s mad. I got home and the atmosphere was not welcoming.
I found her re-arranging the closet and I funnily joked of how God sent she is. She hit me with that ‘Mmmh’ then rolled her eyes. That was the cue.
I started apologizing, promising not to repeat again whatever I did. Then I later asked what I had done. The bra landed squarely on my face, I am just glad it wasn’t one of those very hard looking bricks from Kenya Clay.
‘Whose is it?’ She blurted. And don’t you lie to me’
Haiya, ladies tell me, if I tell her the story I have just beaten you, would she fall for it?
Funny enough, she never even got to wear the bra I bought her.
Aaaaaaargh, let them free. That’s why I have a personal vendetta against bras. Flaunt them like you own them, sawa?
Ladies, it’s Tuesday, you have my number… Aargh, must I tell you everything…