It all started out with an email, a sad one, about home-boy's guka's demise. As in norm, a (requiem mass) prayer had been arranged at one of the many halls some of our local churches
have. It was one of those fridays when you feel it's all gloom - maybe a symptomatic of the occasion...
We'd left the house at around six, headed to town via Museum Hill, and as (Hell only knows) it always happens that a little shower is recipe for madness on the roads. So while it took three minutes to Museum, it took twenty from there to St. Andrews, distance of exactly one Km! Of course, it didn't help that the boys in blue were 'directing' traffic traffic (that's a storo for another day)! I digress..
So we reach the church, where the dearly beloved (and bereaved) are gathered in a somber mood, going through the modalities of the day, and then the madam speaker announces (as she is closing the occasion) that there is a cup of tea... and there home-boy steps up! You see, he's just moved out, and cooking skills are BILA (actually, 'duru za kuaminika' very reliable word has it that he can't make chai to save his life) and you see we gat a problem! But ome-boy has it figured out... not to worry! So iko chai, na mgadi?!
Let's just say, he had to clean bread crumbs from his jacket on saturday morning.
3 comments:
LMAO poor man but then again c'est la vie
one day he'll learn how to cook - or keep a woman who can!
rumour has it that his skills are so wayward, he has trouble figuring which end of the egg to crack open in order to fry it...
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