Someone tells the new tenant in this rat-and-roach-infested Uswaz that I am happily married to my one-and-only Bisho Ntongo. She should know that I took to Bisho Ntongos father three breathing cows, a sack of rice and cash as dowry and that no one should come between us. Period! It should be drummed into her head that I am still not in a position to ‘buy’ a second wife.
The girl whose name I keep forgetting because it sounds more like botanical names I learnt in my biology class has been getting into my hair lately, and the earlier I tell her off the better for me and my marriage.
She has been parading her lustrous body for me in a way that I am tempted to tell Bisho Ntongo. The way she wags her tail and bounces her ripe “tomatoes” is threatening my inner peace like never before (I love beautiful women but don’t mention it).
The lass has been gawping at me in a way that is likely to get Bisho Ntongo to dispatch me to sleeping on the couch or something at best or throw me out of the house for good – this, I dread with all my heart.
Imagine waking up as the muezzin calls for prayers in the nearest mosque and the first sight is that of a woman wrapped in a provocative kanga wraparound exaggeratingly fan the fire.
She is bent over in a manner that can tempt even the devil by ensuring that all you see is her ample bust, her curvy bum and knickknacks. This woman has more; she has a swagger whenever she sure that Bisho Ntongo is not watching that is as unholy as the back of witch’s dark cooking pot.
Recently, she almost put me in the mother of all trouble. Everyone including Bisho Ntongo had left for work that morning apart from the loitering chickens outside, the place was quite. She seized the opportunity to strike. I had been wearing my fingers on the keyboard typing away when someone tiptoed in the room and blindfolded me and felt feather-light kiss on the nape of my neck. At first, I thought it was a benevolent terrorist until after I opened my eyes. She was standing there smiling sheepishly.
Two thoughts coursed through my mind. One, I wanted to slap her very hard and second, I reckoned that since we were alone in the entire compound, I could as well take advantage of the situation.
The latter thought succeeded even though the devils voice from without kept whispering to me to use the chance.
Her Jezebel mouth was telling me how handsome I am and that she has all along been dying for me. Instinctively, my hand slapped her so hard that she let out a scream. I was pushing her out of the house when I noticed that Bisho Ntongo was standing behind the door!