Tuesday Blues (Conversations with a Taxi tout)

Forget Monday blues. Forget the weekend hues. Forget last week. Forget even today. I don’t know if Monday does to you what it does to me, but it surely does things no one has ever done to me. Forget waking up on the wrong side of the bed, where you placed the half eaten pilau from last night with the thick gravy from Mama Sara. Monday does things to me I tell you.

Sad boy faceWoowe! Monday!

I woke up on the right side of the bed today but my feet stepped on the wrong side of the floor, the one with the half eaten pilau and gravy I earlier talked about. As I dragged my feet, I also felt something stick below them. I really should relocate from this place. The brothel next door is not a safe and happy place to be around (This is a joke). But that wasn’t the sticky bit; it was from the cold porridge I didn’t finish last evening.

Now are you starting to get what Monday does to me on a Tuesday? You don’t? Well, I tried walking to my little dingy shower outside, where it had rained heavily last night the amount of mud traversed to and from the shower would require another shower when I got back into the house, which obviously is flooded. Yeah, that’s how broke hustling people survive, in flooded little houses with muddy showers on the outside.

Don’t fret now.

 Happy face

This photo doesn’t represent the views of the writer in any way!

This is not half the story. This is worse than the small pizzas you get from those half priced pizza Tuesdays, the small pizzas with a crust thinner than the chapattis at my rolex joint. The time limit on my easy-dry-clean-dirty-jeans is almost done. The dirty jeans are so dirty, Jay Z just told me to get that dirt off his shoulder, but that’s not the point either. I still have to wake up from this daze. Mama Nulu’s chickens (my landlady) are already in my room feasting of the pilau leftovers like we are still in the Ramadhan season. Anyway, I wear my dirty jeans and call my boda guy.

You are my witness but you will agree with me on this! The mortuary section in Mulago has benefitted most from these fellas. It’s like when they purchase these things, they forget to read in the ‘terms and conditions’ where it says sign your death certificate here, and they just agree with everything else on it. Unfortunately, Kanabi my boda guy was running other errands and like a chic who doesn’t change her saloon, I also don’t change my boda guy, so I decided to walk in the mud until the taxi stage. Usually I take free rides on credit because Kanabi is a frequent visitor at my neighbour’s, the brothel and not Mama Nulu, and on occasion has crashed at my place but today, I had to fork out that extra 500/- just to get me to at least halfway the journey, where I can easily walk to work (Is Besigye still doing his usual Monday and Thursday exercise?).

My Tuesday blues are not yet done. We are merely reflecting on them, getting started and I think my internet has just run out. . .

Kakamega

Don’t try this at home. Leave it to our Kenyan Brothers!

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