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Risky pickings at the local bar

My head was not made for calculating figures and that is why I did not join the profession of sadists called accountants. However, I have been doing some figure work ever since I heard the news that 300 million gumboots, alias rubbers , alias kondoms alias condoms will soon be available in Kenya.

I hear they will not be used as balloons to commemorate the first Kanu - NDP "kopareson" anniversary. I have heard they will be brought in for the use for which they were designed. this is to say that they will be used to keep Kenyans away from their favourite pastime, which is turning themselves into past tense for engaging in "kula hepi".

My head told me that it was okay to keep Kenyans away from that pastime, but the same head calculated some figures and wondered whether whoever is bringing in the gumboots has done a good weather check and found that it will rain so hard that we will will require all those rubbers.

The same head told me that we are about 30 million Kenyans, including children who have this idea that they were bought by mum from the shop. They include my age-mates and others who, as it is said, have returned the jembesand pangasto the store because they need not work any more. This is to say characters who will not have any use for the gumboots because it does not rain any more where they live.

Now, if you share out those 300 million gumboots among all Kenyans - including the children and those who have returned their told to the store - each Kenyan will get 10 condoms.

The same head told me that a mighty number of very active Kenyans don't use Kondoms at all. It means that those who use them must be very active to clear the stock before the next consignment is delivered. Another conclusion: There must be a Kenyan who is getting a commission for the import of those small gum boots

I could be wrong because I was born in those days when condoms were being made from the intestines of goats. This is to say I have returned my Jembes to the store and retired from active service. However, I think 300 million tiny gumboots are too much for the job at hand.

Lessons on wonder innovation
I put one of the conditions that must be put in bars is that the drinker of any frothy beverage should get a packet of gumboots with the first drink. I suggest that when bars open and as patrons begin to wet their gills, the local Wamuyu, the head barmaid, should give lessons on how to use this wonder innovation.

Just as the air hostesses show fliers just before take-off what to do in case of an emergency on flight, so the Wamuyus in the beer halls should demonstrate to drinkers how to use kondoms before their imagination takes off after swallowing a few pints.

The Wamuyu in the local pub should stand in front of the drinkers and say; ""In case your heart overtakes your head and you feel you must do something during or after your drink, get a condom. A condom is this thing that I am holding in my hand. It is made of rubber. To use it, tear the packet open like this. You see, it is that simple. What follows is even simpler...as you would be expected to know..."".

I am making that suggestion because I have seen characters that look like bishops when they enter the bar but turn out to be devils that need not two, but five reinforced condoms by the time they are on the fifth beer.

A character who shall remain nameless joins me at my new joint called Super Mambo where I am escorting that goat head that I have fed on with one pint at the right price and temperature.

The man,smart in a suit, asks for a drink from Wamuyu and as she walks away he shakes his head and says to me: "Son of Appep, I don't know what some men have in their heads. I think they have lots of thick porridge instead of brains. Just imagine a man like me who has his wife waiting in the house. And he is calling that barmaid there - who looks like a sack of potatoes from Kinangop - eti my ice - cream, my gacungwa and my roast meat."

"He is buying her beer when his family has not tasted beef for six months. Finally he puts up with that sack of potatoes and he does not even wear gumboots. Si ni upuzi? Si ni suicide?

I nod just as Wamuyu returns with a beer and a glass. The man pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and with it meticulously wipes clean the glass mouth. I look at him curiously, and he intones: ""Wa Appep, you cannot trust the hands of these bar women in these days of the killer called kamdudu, I mean the big disease with a short name. You never know with the kamdudu virus. I hear it can pass through a very thick wall or a very small opening. I still have small ones to feed so I don't take chances.

The man pours beer in his glass, swirls the foaming fluid like a cleansing shampoo and flushes it down. Then he speaks: ""My brother Son of Appep, this ka-thing it is killing so many men and it is all the fault of women. That is why I always wash my glass that way, just in case her fingers had been in touch with the Kamdudu virus"".

He sips from his glass and then looks in the direction of the girl he had said looks like a sack of potatoes. Then he clears his throat and speaks: ""Wa Appep, if you ask me, that one might be sick. She looks like a virus. See how her hair looks not natural? That's the hair of a kamdudu-sufferer!""

I say nothing but wish the character could stop pretending to be a specialist on HIV - Aids symptoms.

I start telling him how the weather has changed and how it is affecting the spirits of the Son of the Soil and his agemates. In short I am trying to make him see there are more important things to discuss at this particular moment than kamdudu,it's symptoms and the health of others - especially girls I presume he has little to do with.

Three beers later, he rises to go to the toilet and stops where the skirt-wearer whom he called ""a sack of potatoes"" flashes a smile for him. As the man enters the toilet, she goes to the counter and returns with a bottle of beer for herself. When the man comes from the urinal closet, he dips his fingers in his pocket and hands her some money. You don't need to be told who has bought the drink for the girl who had been dismissed as ""a sack of potatoes"".

Handshake lasts longer
By the fifth beer, his visits to the urinal come every 10 minutes and he has a rendezvous on the corridor with the girl labeled as "a sack of potatoes"", and the handshakes are taking longer and longer.

Now Mr. Clean doesn't mind touching her body, and she responds giggling like a schoolgirl.

When the man returns to my table, he says: ""Wa Appep, women are something else. I am talking about women we have married with goats and sheep. The Thatchers, I mean. Like mine now. She is behaving as if we had a land boundary dispute. We are not even sharing bedrooms let alone a bed. She sleeps in her own bedroom and still hurls insults from there."".

He looks in the direction of ""Potato Sack"" and smiles sheepishly like a young man in love for the first time. Then he rises with his beer and heads for the table where ""Potato Sack"" is seated. When I pass near the table on the way to the urinal, I notice his hand is locked with that of ""Potato Sack"" and both are smiling as if they are about to get married.

Two hours later, he staggers towards a dark staircase with an arrow saying: ""To Lodgings. Lipa Hapa."" I tell myself that is not a situation of a brother giving a hand to a sister who is finding it difficult to climb the stairs. I tell myself it is a situation that needs some help from a pair of ""gumboots"" but my friend is one of those characters who say they are too old to learn how to use one.

Deformed sweet potato
I can tell what happened between the time this character entered the bar and the time he left arm -in- arm with ""Potato Sack"". When he entered the bar and looked at ""Potato Sack"" her face reminded him of the village witch. The shape of her body reminded him of a deformed sweet potato.

By the second beer, her face reminded him of a fellow woman worker whom he admired some years back but was unable to win her heart. The shape of her body now reminded him of a slightly dented car.

By the forth beer, Potato Sack had started to have the face of the office receptionist. The character had always said that the secretary was neither too ugly nor too beautiful,meaning that he would not have minded marrying her. Potato sack's body is now reminding him of the shape of a soda bottle that is neither too lean or too fat.

By the time he had five and a half beers, Potato Sack was reminding him of the Miss Kenya Beauty contest. By the sixth bottle, instead of seeing Potato Sack, he was seeing the Miss World. By the time he was climbing up the stairs with her, he was seeing a combination of the Miss World and Miss Universe combined.

When he woke up the following morning, he saw Potato Sack and fled from the scene. With that kind of characters around, perhaps the man who calls gumboots " kondoms ", Ndingi son of Nzeki, might want to tell us what should be banned, ""kondoms"" or the drink?

Used with permission by Wahome Mutahi. This article first appeared in the Sunday Nation of August 5, 2001, In it's Lifestyle Magazine section.

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