Diary, I’m writing this while sipping mnazi under a palm tree. How come?
Well, I saw a post on social media seeking a well-groomed driver to accompany a naïve new car owner to Gedi, home of Gedi ruins, for the weekend. And why not?
When we met, I was shocked to find out she was a stunning young woman. Though I’d hoped it wasn’t a man, I harboured no illusions. My only interest was the ruins.
Nine hours later, we didn’t pull up to a sleepy village. It seemed like everyone and their grandmother was out to welcome us.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“Only a few of us from this village make it to Nairobi. Just go with it.”
We walked on a carpet of palm fronds to an ornate hut. Dancers gyrated, women ululated.
“All this because…”
“Just go with it.”
They decked us with leis, wrapped us in lesos. A crown on my head.
“The crown? I know… Just go with it.”
A feast followed: biryani, pilau, chapati, wild boars roasted whole. The palm wine was potent. When a medicine man showed up and began incantations, alarm bells went off in my head.
“And now?” I asked.
“They think we’re getting married. Just go with it.”
I excused myself and called a lawyer friend in Nairobi, asked how I could get out of the situation.
He laughed.
“A pretty hot Giriama broad, you said?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know her from Eve.”
“Dude, just go with it.”
