The promise of a virgin


Being the end of 2015, I had had it all. I was ready to wrap it all up, hike on a plane, or a train to a sandy beach somewhere at the end of the world and watch the sun dawn on 2016, with a glass of whisky at hand and a sandy, yellow girl by my side to share the site and experience. I was ready to leave everything behind, including my ancestor like LG phone and whisk a package off to re-live the dying embers of the year with, with no interruption at all.

But Kenya being Kenya I had so many things to deal with so that wish only remained a pipe dream. To start with there was Eurobond, I had to figure out what it really meant and where the money had been sent off to; I also had to figure out what happened to Bro Ocholla. I had to deal with the fallout that followed Waiguru’s  resignation and Raila’s accusations and counter accusations didn’t make my work any easier.

I had to figure out why K24 had decided to air that good for nothing “reality” TV show instead of dealing with more important realities of life like the Eurobond fiasco. If we needed to keep tabs on socialites’ life, we have Instagram accounts and the likes of Larry Madowo and Ghafla to keep us updated. We didn’t need a freaking TV show.

So December came so packed for me that I had to find time to breath.

Did I tell you that I finally graduated? I had to deal with the excitement too, the too many ladies available after seeing me in that gown hehe and the feeling of being on top of the world that came with the graduation cap. Whatsapp messages kept buzzing , the requests were so overwhelming that I had to design an automatic reply message to ensure that I didn’t come out as an arrogant snobbish young man. Of course my future seemed brighter than it ever was and I had to have my moment.

Since I didn’t have time to throw a graduation party after the ceremony, my friends had organized one small event that could bring us all together, reflect on my success and crown me as a village elder… hehe It was slated for 24th.

I had to travel to Meru that same day so I figured that by the time I would be back the event could have kicked off (with my blessings of course) and I would join them later. But Kenyans being Kenyans, they had to wait for me as if I was the Tusker to be sipped or the music to be played.

I arrived back at around 11pm to start looking for the clique.

The party started. The guys drank and the ladies twerked. Every so often I would be forced to grind on some chic’s ass because as someone put it, it was my party. So I performed my duties faithfully. Held her by the hair, put the right leg up.. all that crazy shit you see on Jamaican videos, I did it. Wasn’t it my party after all?

Finally I would be an elder. Maybe some crazy old man had preserved his virgin daughter for me to marry; for being so successful; for having such a promising future ahead.

Finally the chief would consult me on important matters relating to location governance and security…

Now I would be called for school talks to advise the local children on how to make it in life. I would have the rare chance of being a motivational speaker at the local polytechnics… hehe

During that party I learnt an important lesson. As a man never be in a hurry to score so early in the night. Why do I give this important tip? A friend of mine, being the fisi he is, jumped on this chic early in the night. At the beginning I didn’t know whether the chic was of male or female gender. He was so much on her case that even I, the owner of the party wasn’t allowed to dance with her. But since God never ever disappoints and never forgets his faithful children, imported packages landed.

You should have seen the look on that nigga’s face. Why did the devil have to be such a liar? The anticipation was almost killing him. He so much wanted to ditch the man of a girl he was with, to have a taste of the video vixens that had been imported from the city under the sun but he had already made his choice. I so much wanted to tell him to remember that choices have consequences but me saying that could have made him cry.

He looked so vulnerable. Why did the world have to be so cruel to him? To make things more interesting, the “girl” he was with was the possessive type. She just couldn’t let him go. She clinged to him more than Raila clings to the dream of being president someday. I could see his lips moving.. I think he was praying to the ancestors, asking them to take away his plate of misfortunes. Its then that I realized that those that coined the phrase that good things come to those who wait weren’t so far from the truth.

So the asses moved, gyranting to the beats and the boys were on them faster than Ruto was to any idle playing field in 2015.The deejay didn’t disappoint, neither did the boys nor the girls. I was so caught up in the fun that I didn’t initially notice her until she pulled my arm and led me to the dancefloor…

She was yellow alright (weren’t they all after illumination by the neon lights?) She was in some dem tight jeans and maaaan she could dance. She was fit – I could tell by the moves she pulled. One time she has her arms around my neck dancing to African Queen by 2Face the next she is shaking her bum bum to that ratchet song by Sauti Sol.

Looking around the club I can tell niggas are thirsty. Watching some chic dancing so wildly yet they can’t have any piece of her. I can feel them wishing that I would just fall down unconscious just to get an opportunity to smell the huskiness of her hair. Being a guy, I take the opportunity to grab her waist real close, bring her to me and slowly and surely dance to the slow reggae tunes. Guys couldn’t have been more suicidal.

I can feel her breath on my neck. How sweet she smells. I haven’t yet had a chance to really interrogate her face but from her smile I can tell that God wasn’t in a rush… She seems to read my intentions coz every so often she turns around and gives me her back  just like a typical Kenyan lady. She wants me to hold her close and be lost in the magic of the music with her but I am more interested in other things…

Amidst the dancing, I find myself asking, what will happen after the music stops? Will she just rush to her couch like nothing sensual happened? Will she grab another guys arm after another round of music comes on? Will she leave me her number? Will she let me see her face? Will she remember me after night gives in to daylight?

The politician in me tells me that maybe she has been sent by my detractors to make me invested, take me to a cheap motel room and leave me for the dead naked… Maybe she has been sent by one of my exes to  do God knows what… Maybe she is one of those chics from the deep ocean who turn into cats when daylight breaks. Hehe

The time lapsed too fast.. As the dancing continued, I had to visit the gentlemen’s room..

I will be back in a minute…

Please don’t leave just yet…

30 seconds basi…


Off I went. In my drunk stupor, I contemplated how I would taste those beautiful lips… How soft they would feel on mine… I swear I felt the desire in her body as she danced…

On coming back…



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