Arrgh! The Only One Night Stand
We had just been meeting and those unexpected exceptional one night stands would always happen. That moment when our eyes met and I felt some heaviness inside my undergarments, I knew that it had to happen. I was not the dominating one in this since she also wanted to have some fun too. In biology, I remember we called it a symbiotic relationship. It has never been serious. We loved fun. Is that what everyone feels good about? Yeah that is it. I have to admit that the one-night-stands were soo great that i only longed for the next time i shall meet this electric beauty. I bet you understand the meaning of the term ‘electric’ as used in this context. Her name was Sally. She was the dazzling dark beauties of all time. In my village back at home, she was the only girl who at least managed to own some flesh in her gluteal tissue. To add on to that, she was the infiltrative type of lady. Meaning, she was choosy and selective to certain men. I knew she had fun with many people but I still could not get enough of her time. She had a cartel of men who I guess operated on her on my absence. She would get admitted and discharged after been worked on for hours or days. Sometimes I thought she did it for cash and that is why every time I came back to my village from college, I used to have a packet of approximately a 100 barrier contraceptives. I had that feeling deep in me about what I was getting into.
Therefore, it happened that this day, I managed to get home from school on a Friday. I was extremely tired and weary. The time was 3:30pm. The sun was still shining bitterly on my clean-shaven head. There was a bit of a shaky drizzle that was trying to drive away the sunny weather. I approached my village that was situated in somewhere deep in Ukambani. A lot of grass-thatched and mud-walled houses were the spectacular things in this region. You can imagine the tourists would come to take pictures of our houses and pay us. That shows how deep poverty had stricken our village. The only privileged man in the area was called Mr. Muthama who owned a wooden house and a bicycle.He made a lot of cash when ferrying residents to and from town and that is where he got his cash.
[THE DANGEROUS LIVES OF LONG DISTANCE TRUCK DRIVERS ]
Mombasa (Kwakiziwi Region)
Issa rolled on his king-sized bed with a bat’s eye and stretched his arm to the left switching off the noisy alarm. The time was 2am on Wednesday morning. His right hand was numb due to the spooning posture he had lain with his wife Alika. Alika in Swahili means ‘most beautiful’. He stealthy removed his arm from his wife’s bosom and sat on the bed; His feet touching the cold linoleum floor. He needed to be on his truck by 3am to kick off the long journey to Uganda. He was a truck driver whose return to home formulae had been critically disorganized. The last time he had managed to be home was 3 months ago. He had just arrived the previous night to meet his family; wife and two kids who are in nursery school. He had not even spent 24hrs at his vicinity. He was now getting ready to take off. Before he got out of the bed, Alika, his wife, tagged him using her leg.
‘Hey Babe? What’s up?’ she asked as she rubbed her eyes due to the effect of the bright fluorescent tube above them.
‘I have to be going. This is what we live on. It’s where I get my income.’ He responded as he stretched his hand and beckoned Alika to come closer. She was accustomed to these kind messages for some time now. She could not imagine the solitude-ness and how hard it was to stay without her husband for months. She had survived all the times. She felt it as a heavy burden on her. All in all, she had to agree to that fact.