One cold night in KEeping up with NYAng’aus!!
I’ve had three major incidences with my car. Two were accidents, one was a carjacking. The only common factor in all these was that there was a woman involved (apart from my being there too hihihihi)… I’ve already blogged about two of these i.e. Starlet to body, 60MPH and Jacked at SOUTH B.
The third was the most painful. Sniff.., But I’ve attained a state of Mukti/Moksha and can now safely reveal what happened.
Cueing the cues..
One cold night in Kenya, my pal Henny had the ideal gal for the moment: long on looks, short on morals; ample on booty, scarce on attire. And she had friends… So we were chillin at Crooked Q, Milo displaying his cue-talents on table, Henny having his crooked chalked. Then her pals decide we need to head over to K2. Now back in 2003ish, K2 used to bamba vi-proper. I wouldn’t have budged an inch as I was on a roll (ninth game bila loss) but the M. I. C. ie Mamiso In Charge seemed to want a hot cup of steamy Milo, seemed to love ma-hepi regardless, seemed to want me to comment on her blogspot (if you know what I’m sayin…) LOOOOOOL
All roads lead to...
So I begrudgingly gave away my winners and proceeded to head for K2, max’mum speed, min’mum delay. All was going well, mkwajus/mikwaju beginning to stiffen, adrenalin kiasi, hopes up high. The music in the car was loud and clear; the mood Ol Skool. “I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller…” One could almost imagine that Skee-Lo was seated in the back seat performing live much thanks to Sony Xplod speakers, Kenwood tweeters and the 600W Alpine woofer (woof! woof!). The irony of the song was yet to hit us, literally!!
Alas, at the Haile Selassie-Uhuru highway round-a-bout having joined and negotiated a majority of the semi-circle, a Yellow-Red canter decides to jump in bila warning. Brake-pedal to floor, screeching of tyres clutching tarmac for dear life and the smell of burning rubber. Seems at that moment my ABS just stood for my brakes asking “Assi! Be Serious??” There was grinding and gnashing of teeth as the whole of my bonnet was condensed and mangled into a fist of sorts. Canter on receiving the brunt of force from 199x car on 197x body suffered the type of scratch one wouldn’t even humor with elastoplast!!
Surely, surely!!!!!
Now this is where things got interesting. Canter proceeds to head up Upper Hill road undeterred and unconcerned!! There’s madharau and then there’s madharau – I swear! Father-au even!!! Anways, Rav4, now reduced to kedo Rav1.5, was in quick pursuit and I managed to head the nyang’au off somewhere just before Railway club. Jumping out of said Rav, an enraged Milo accosts the canter driver (a Justice wannabe with two twilight nyangaus by his side). No niceties are exchanged but canter keys are confiscated and 999 is dialed. As we patiently await the arrival of Watumishi kwa Wote pigmy decides to show his mamisos his macho side. “If you are bila insurance and cant pay to have your car repaired that’s yours! I can afford to have mine repaired! And no one touches my car keys just like that. Return them before things get bad!!!” he pipes in English laced with a KhoiSan accent.
Revenge of the Drunken Master...
Now I was mad, super-hyper-irate!!!! As the dwarf approached, Milo’s jujitsu, ninjitsu, fujitsu training took over and I was in a zone. Hand-to-body, sneaker-to-butt collisions rendered said vertically challenged individual prostrate on the cold tarmac, whimpering and begging for mercy. Trust Henny, who had been hiding behind me all the while, to suddenly appear at the forefront (when the adversary was on the ground) administering Timberland kicks to torso and unleashing shouts of “Kwenda!! Ghasia!!!”
The rest is a story for another day but the ladies we were transporting ended up in K2 courtesy of the ladies’ everpresent plan B as Henny and I awaited the cops andstatement/insurance/excessmisery!!!Nyangaus! Nyaaaaaaannnnggggggaaaaaaaauuuuuuus!!!!!
