As I regale the eye with a picturesque view of the lake, listening to some old music through TDK earphones, I hear Percy Sledge croon: 

‘Take time to know her…’ 

My buoyant mood sinks when I remember how, many years ago, I was betrayed(or abandoned) by a woman like the biblical macho-man Samson.
My afro hair wasn’t cut like the strong man’s dreads but I was equally emasculated by a woman

I swore was made in heaven with my rib. Perhaps a future book—some book of wisdom—will feature my story as a good example of man’s folly of falling head over heels for some stunning Delilah without internalizing words of advice clearly vocalized in the airwaves.I should have read the signs when she took to the dancefloor with gusto as Gwen Guthrie belted: ‘No romance without finance….’

In that youthful era I harboured presidential ambitions so money wasn’t going to be an issue and like Melania or Maggie or Lucy, perhaps even Ida, she would have clip-clopped in the corridors of State House taking care of things maendeleo as I united not just war-like tribes within our borders, but the whole of Africa with simple Martin Luther kind of wisdom and oratory. I had a dream.

‘Don’t fall in love with a dreamer…’ Some wise guy in a cowboy hat was quick to advise her; strumming his guitar with another kind of wisdom targeting today’s beautiful women.
Life’s shit sometimes hits the fan, spluttering stuff meant for sewer lines that make dainty damsels run for cover. Who, in her right senses today will live in Kibich, ducking poo missiles, when her booty is designed for perfumed gardens in Karen? 

As my dhow sunk she quickly abandoned ship, boarding a passing yatch where she was welcomed with warm towels, some hot chicken soup, serenades, caviar and tall glasses of champaign. She didn’t even look behind to see if I’d bailed out or was swallowed by the dark depths or by some whale like Jonah. ‘Our love is History…’ she hummed the Mai Tai song, chewing on a succulent grape or banana, as the luxury boat disappeared in the horizon. I added a foot of salt water in the ocean with my tears and survived to tell the tale.

“Take time to know her…” Percy’s voice is heard as a young Samson in the neighbourhood toys around with ravishing beauty, unaware that ‘Wembe ni ule ule’ and super beauties aka slay queens or minji minji are for the Muthamaki harem.

By guest writer Peter Ndiba

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