CHRONICLES OF A DISPLACED COMRADE

 

BY ORDIA AKELO

Yes it is a marriage proposal. Candle lit dinner, six Spanish guitarists strumming gently to an exotic tune. Just like in the telenovelas. From where we are seated, there is a beautiful view of the city. The night is clearly ours and even the stars come out in dozens to witness. After having our exotic and expensive meal, prince charming walks up to me and goes on his knee… I am wrapped in a daze. That is how I want my proposal to be. Yes people, I am that chick who is still stuck in the Cinderella fairy tale. However, what I just experienced in Plot No.1 is slowly bringing me back to reality.

Living back in Lower Lavington – read Soweto, we were used to the catcalls and the frequent guy musings. Outside here it’s a whole different

story. Here they issue marriage proposals with the craziest terms ever.

On my first weekend I am caught in the middle of a pile of clothes and a marriage proposal. As always with weekends, it’s cleaning time, having resolved that I will keep to myself and mind my own business, I do just that. Minutes into my laundry, ”jirani” who is directly

opposite my house,”anatoklezea”. The usual pleasantries abound. At least I have company. From our chit chat I know who came home all wasted the previous night. He is funny; I can’t help but laugh as he narrates the events of last night.

I run out of water and rushed for a refill. When I get back, I get ”jirani” beside my pile with a few of his own. He whips out a coy smile and

declares me a ‘wife material’ a hundred

percent . It does not stop there, he rolls out his plans of moving in and becoming ‘wuon plot’. Self imposed! A light exchange follows and I ask him ‘Kama ataweza’. ”Why not” he replies chuckling.

Now I think I need some help understanding one thing, what is it with boys thinking that so long as they whip out the marriage wand, they can get all things done? Does it even work?

Honestly, one day one boy will drop that line and he may not live to tell the story. No second guessing about it. In fact I am sure there is a man somewhere who can attest to this. His

advice may be, ‘do not throw that line left , right or center in today’s society’.

Let me therefore, sound a warning to all the

eligible bachelors prowling around Plot 1, please, do not coerce me into doing something for you. To be specific, do not try me with

marriage, I might just say yes.

Yours Truly,

Min Plot.

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