My landlady

Torments of being a tenant are endless. I‘ve been places, seen faces but I’ve never seen a land lady like this! My rent is only eleven days late but I can’t breath! She wakes up on my doorsteps everyday, shouting like she’s harebrained.

Torments of being a tenant are endless. I‘ve been places, seen faces but I’ve never seen a land lady like this! My rent is only eleven days late but I can’t breath! She wakes up on my doorsteps everyday, shouting like she’s harebrained.

“Shame on you,” she yells! “You watch DSTV, drink like a fish but can’t pay your rent. If you only stop drinking and smoking for a day, you wouldn’t worry about paying your rent,” on and on she rants.

With her torture techniques she can put the MOSAD torture experts to shame!  She’s the true meaning of a ‘perfect nightmare’!

One day I woke up early in the morning with an urgent call of nature to answer, only to find an obese padlock on my latrine door.

Can you imagine! I pleaded to her for half an hour in front of other tenants and their offspring. You know pleading when you’re in pain, believe me you can promise anything, including selling your grand mother to pay the debt!

I even suspect she planted CCTV cameras in my house. Every time I get a female visitor she’s the first one to know, and then she barges in and launches her deadly missiles! She would start with something like “Ntasoni? Umuntu w’umugabo?”

Then you would know she’s going to rain missiles and bombs!  You try hard to calm her saying things like “Umva mabuja…,” you try to sweet talk her, but wapi! This will only accelerate her rage and amplify her volume.

“I’m tired, tired of you,” she’d fire, “You say you don’t have money but everyday you bring a different lady, how come you afford to facilitate your wicked habits?”

One day after she had unleashed on me her trademark tongue lash, I couldn’t take it anymore! I went to see Mzee Hamza, Nyamirambo old geezer and a good friend to ask him for advice.

This old man once told me ‘Being old is to know all the answers but no one asks questions.’ I told him how the land lady is giving me an unending headache.

I filled him in about how she fumes every time I cook meat, or guzzle some beers at home; all along he was listening attentively. “Son, you’re to blame,” he finally shot.

“If you want to cook meat, get a kettle, fry and cook your meat in it. Let alone the landlady, not even the unwanted visitors will bother you. They’ll think you’re boiling water and their attention will be diverted to your next door neighbour.”

”About the beers, it’s simple; from today let mugs replace the glasses, and flasks replace the bottles!”

Ends

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