HUMOUR:“Flowers and the godamned rains”

As we hit the mid-month mark, the skies opened and the “waters from above” poured unto us ferociously.  No sooner had the rains began than we all started cursing.  Human nature is quite complicated. 

As we hit the mid-month mark, the skies opened and the “waters from above” poured unto us ferociously.  No sooner had the rains began than we all started cursing.  Human nature is quite complicated. 

Only just a few days ago, we were all cursing and blaming the Good Creator for not opening his taps and sprinkling some of the Holy contents down upon the creatures that live on this planet earth. 

When he heeds our requests or
can we call it prayers, then, the next moment, we are all up in arms urging him to turn those taps off again, ain’t that hypocrisy of the highest order?

It all began on the Friday afternoon, SMS (short Text Massages) were flying in all directions in search of mobile phone owners, “TGIF” (Thank God It’s Friday). 

Despite most of us being half broke, yes that is the situation, we are in the middle of the month and the month has began “meandering” in the Nyabarongo style; this coupled with the World Economic Crush or is it crisis, many of us have learnt to apply the “Power of positive Thinking”, we are always looking upon the positive side of life. 

The human mind is quite powerful, when a mind is set onto something, that mind will definitely achieve it.

Despite being broke, I strongly believed that come Friday, I will have more than enough to “wash my throat”. 

True to my belief, in the afternoon of that Friday, my BlackBerry phone began by alerting me that I had received an e-mail courtesy of MTN – Everywhere You Go, how would I have been fully connected had it not been their innovation of
introducing this “magic” known as the BlackBerry?

Those of you who do not know what I am talking about, better rush to the nearest MTN Customer Service Centre, they will enlighten you (this is not an advertisement).

Back to the topic, the Diaspoman had sent me an e-mail that a relative of his was in town.

He wanted to take him out but was lacking the necessary company and that the guest had read a lot about a fellow called “The Villager”, he wanted to meet him in person and flesh.

Who was I to refuse?  “Icyo twashyakiraga ishoka, umuyaga urakigushije” (what we sought an axe for, the wind has felled).

The venue selected was none other than “Car Wash” a.k.a. “Embassy of Kenya”.

Reason why the venue was chosen was because the guest hailed from Kenya.

To be precise, if this guest visited one of East Africa’s member states, he would most probably be labelled as a “Mad ...” by the head of state of that country.

Unfortunate for us, the “ambassador”, a one Mr. Wahome, was not present; he had travelled back to Nairobi most probably for consultations with the many Babas (Baba Moi, Baba Mwai, etc). 

No sooner had we arrived than the tables began filling with all tribes of beers, Tusker Malt, Bellos, ARMSTELS, Primus, etc. 

The drinks were being “thrown” down the throats as if to “wash” off the various layers of dust that had come with the long dry spell.

Soon, things like “Sukuma wiki” (push the week), Ugali, Kacumbali, Firiti, inkoko and Nyama Choma were used to greatly decorate our table. 

Just a minute, I had forgotten, a number of our colleagues had brought along a number of “flowers”. 

As we began talking of flowers, the man from Kenya began boasting that Kenya exports almost 40% of the world’s flowers.

I challenged him as to why he had to boast of such small numbers, when Rwanda produced 70% of the flowers, the difference was that, they exported and us we “consumed” our own flowers! 

The Diaspoman was quick to inquire as to how many Kenyan “flowers” were around our table? None!  Rwandan ones?

Plenty!  By the way, the Kenyan guest was sitting next to one and his eyes kept popping out of their sockets in order to appreciate God’s own work of art! 

Our party was interrupted by the rains that came accompanied by thunder “blasts” that were rocking the night as if it was a “battlefield”.

We had no alternative but to scamper for safety in the comfort of our homes.