My hands lift the mug to my mouth and you sit and stare at me. Your lips have been moving and my ears have not taken in the sound coming from them, but you’d never know.
You never know.
You lift your mug. It’s the blue mug I got you for your birthday last year. You hated it, but you never went a day without drinking from it, like kissing your enemy’s lips every morning.
You rise and the thread of darkness follows you around the table slowly forming a thin line as you walk away. We are always here. Your demons arouse mine and they stare down each other. Your demons stir mine up but none ever attacks…I heard it was called self-preservation, but baby one of these days, one of these days, we’ll burn down this house, and it’s our love that’d be killed.
Call me Tony, because chances are you’d spell my name wrong: Antony instead of Anthony. It’s always the “H” that suffers as a silent partner.
My job involves motion and mathematics and more patience than I subscribed for. I report to work at 4am and leave at 9pm. On Fridays and Saturdays I leave at midnight only to return to my bedsitter at 1am and wake up at 4am. If there is one thing I seek, it’s an eight hour sleep, but we both know that for as long as I work here, that will never happen.
Call me Tony. I’m a Tout.
I am the man who shouts the route the matatu is going. The one who signals the driver to stop when you want to alight or board. Sometimes, I am known to whistle, shout or hit the side of the bus- anything to get the driver’s attention over the loud music.
I am the one who takes your money, and gives you change without complaining when you shout “Weh! Change!” or say how stupid touts are.
I have never missed a day of work because in this city, you have to earn your pay, and no matter what you do- we are all in the chase. Some get there easier like Politicians buying soap for thousands, or setting up Facebook pages for a million shillings. At the end of the day, it’s all about the money and am on my feet from four in the morning to nine in the night getting it- and it’s still not enough to get me what I desire.
So, here’s the deal, imagine always picking up this fly mama at a certain stage every weekday, and she always smiles at you when she walks in and looks you in the eye when she hands you the fare, and you start wondering, would she be into a guy like me?
It’s like looking at the bumper sticker on the vehicle in front of you in a traffic jam. It won’t move no matter how much you will it to, not unless the traffic police clear the lane. This lady is always at the stage at 5am waiting for the matatu. She smells like clean sheets, like those that have been washed in sunlight and left to dry then ironed to perfection just for you. The kind of sheets that summon you to sleep. If you saw her and then saw me, you’d laugh like Mike. He’s the driver who knows I have it for the lady, big time! When we approach the stage he shouts “Tosh! Mbona husemi twende ukifika hapa?”
She always smiles at me and I have never stopped smiling back, and a man needs motivation in life, but waking up at 4am just to pick her up is enough to get me going for now. It’s this life, twende!
Walter cleaned the windows and watered the plants at The Restaurant that morning. He had received confirmation from Equity Bank regarding his request for a loan. They had even offered to have him attend a workshop on Friday on Financial Management and essentially Book Keeping.
He’d called his Mother to tell her the good news and she had gone on her long prayer sessions forgetting that his airtime was limited to subscriber rates. The line went dead just when she got to the “God bless my Sons…” part, and he really wanted to hear the “even though their Father was a reckless man, what, talk of drinking and sleeping wherever, please save my sons from the devil that is Kenya Breweries.”
They knew her prayer by heart.
He’d heard it more than his siblings because he was the one who looked like their Father and even scrunched his face like the man. He was also the one who hated him the most.
He returned to the store room to find Maureen waiting for him.
“So, how did your date go? You never said.”
“It was okay.”
“Nimekataa hiyo! Hutaniosha na maji chafu nikiwa hapa, tell me, what happened because it’s been a week and I have not seen that woman walk through those doors, na vile wanatip poa, hebu sema kabla sijakuharibia jina!”
“Are you threatening me just for a story?”
“Hapana! Sababu ya Telemundo, kwani? So, what happened?”
“The date was good, we talked, had milkshakes and then that was it.”
“So, how is your mom doing?”
“My mom is much better, thanks for asking.”
“Ehe! So, was she really sick ama you were just pulling a ‘woiye!’ stunt?”
“You ask too many questions and why are you inside the store room? This place stinks and it’s dump! You might catch a cold or worse off get bitten by a spider.”
“I’m watching you Walter, you are up to something because you have never been this quiet…I can feel it, you are doing something big.”
Walter looked at Maureen with the corners of his lips twitching, in readiness for a smile or full blown laugh, but he composed himself as he watched her walk out of the store room whistling. He could not tell her about his business.
Have you ever had an idea that won’t let you ignore it? Here’s a short story that’s been with me today.
Martha left her husband of three years. She stepped out of their house carrying a backpack.
It was seven o’clock when she arrived at the bus stop.
The bus came at eight. She read two books while she waited. Her ticket indicated that she’d be leaving at half past seven, but she did not mind as long as she was not late. She handed the Inspector her ticket and walked in the bus. It was ten minutes past eight when she received his text, “where are you?”
She switched off her phone and threw it inside her bag.
She closed her eyes and prepared for a seven hour trip back home. She would stay there until she figured out how to forgive.
II
Their wedding featured in magazines and newspapers in the country. Headings such as “True Love Wins,” “Wedding of The Year,” filled the shelves more than bread and milk. People she’d never met liked her wedding pictures on Facebook and wished her well. The world loved them from their pictures. However, she loved George from her soul and heart. He loved her from his mind and that revealed itself in three years.
She did not believe it even when she lay on the floor at midnight.
She did not ask where she had gone wrong or what he lacked when he came home the next day smelling of cheap hotel soap. She set up his bath, made his breakfast and wished him well at work.
She never missed a day of work or a Sunday mass service.
George lived as he pleased and to the world they were the most beautiful couple but to Martha, they were roommates. She thought of every word and explanation she would give to her parents as she walked up to their gate and pressed the button. They would be happy to see her. Her mother would bake a cake in the afternoon and her Dad would look at her through those glasses that were always at the tip of his nose. He would shake his head and say, “You cannot fool me Martha, I know you are running from this one.”
The guard opened the gate and smiled at her as he took her bag.
“Karibu, nyumbani…umepotea sana, ei yawa! Umefanya vizuri kwa kuja.” Welcome home, you’ve been gone for so long but it’s good you are here.
“Asante, habari ya huku?” Thank you how’s this place?
“Tuko tu, karibu.” We are okay, welcome.
She followed him into the house. Her Father was the first person to see her through the window in his study and he was the first one to embrace her. “You are thin!”
“It is good to see you too Daddy.”
“You are here and that’s all that matters for now. Your mother is getting ready for her Mother’s Union meeting. She will take awhile come with me to the kitchen and we can talk all about your travel.”
“It’s good to be home Daddy.” Her Father stopped and looked at her for a while then pulled her into a tight embrace.
“What was that for? Did you miss me that much?”
“I know things are not well, but I am happy you came to us. I have been yearning to call in a favor from Judge Mambo.”
“Things are fine Daddy. I just need time.”
“You can fool the world Martha but not me. I did not listen to arguments for twenty years to take in a lie from you! God is seeing you! Enough of all this, your mother made some carrot cake in the morning and she hid it somewhere in this kitchen, help me find it and I can tell you all about my day!”
“The doctor said you are not supposed to take sugar.”
“The doctor said so, but he did not warn your mother to stop cooking things that have sugar! Now, start looking before that woman comes here!” She hugged him one more time and walked to the fridge where she found the carrot cake. They sat down on the floor with their slices and talked about the changes in the Judiciary. He asked her questions about the latest bills tabled in the parliament and she created scenarios that could be presented in court. They did this until they ate the last bit of cake then walked back to the sitting room to watch National Geographic.
“It’s okay, I am really glad you agreed to come I know you must be tired having worked like a slave the whole week. I mean, don’t you get tired of being around tables and food and restaurants in general?”
“Sometimes I do, but it’s my job and it pays the bills so I tend to let it be what it is.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Okay, so what do you want to talk about?”
“You.”
“Okay, what do you want to know about me?”
“What do you do and what do you like?”
“I am in HR. I have a couple of side gigs and all mainly doing exhibitions. I like dancing and shopping, that’s what I can think of right now, but I also like to meet people get to know them and things like that.”
“Great because I cannot say that I like dancing, or shopping-but since I love to bake I always find time to shop for ingredients and cooking utensils.”
“You bake? Like cake cake?”
“Yes, cake cake.”
“Sheesh! That is great, like I don’t know any guy who bakes, like seriously, do you also cook and stuff?”
“I do stuff, and yes, I cook sometimes. I have never slept hungry with food in the house.”
“You are serious Walter, aren’t you?”
“You find me funny?”
“No, yes. Wait, no, it’s just that…ghai! You love baking, I am impressed!”
“Do I get the job then?”
“What job?”
“It’s just sounded like an interview right there.”
“Now you are being funny! But listen, you know I do exhibitions and events like that, so how about we have some of your stuff for our clients to snack on and things like that, I’m sure it could be great.”
“Thanks, we can work on that.”
“Sure and hey is it cool if I ask you something, I mean, we barely know each other and I don’t want to offend or get in your business or something, but do you smoke?”
Walter looked at Ruth, her brown eyes that had once held him in his place were on her milkshake. She used her straw to swirl the drink around, but in that time she did not meet his eyes.
He thought of Bella, that chick he’d dated in campo, who kissed her anywhere they were. They had been voted best couple the night before they broke up because she felt like he was going to die of cancer and leave her behind. Bella had clearly never watched A Thousand Ways to Die! He looked at Ruth thinking of all the ways he could get past this, but he was done with secrets. If she was into him then he would not pretend.
He pulled out the pack of Embasssy Lights he had in his pocket and pushed it towards her glass. She looked at it and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
“Is it a turnoff?” He asked.
“No, I am not sure. I haven’t been around a guy who smokes, it’s just that I saw you some day in town and you were smoking, and it was like…”
“A blow?”
“No, like an hallucination.”
“So…”
“You are an Embassy Lights kinda guy…okay, but you do know that cigarette smoking is bad for your health and cancer is real and stuff like that.”
“It’s written on the pack. I read it every time I pull out a stick and light it. I hear it in my head when I take my first drag, and when I puff, It’s there in that white cloud of smoke, and it goes on until I step on that stub and continue with my work. I also believe it’s “cigarette smoking is harmful to your health.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to piss you off.”
Walter shrugged and took his pack of cigarettes and tucked it neatly into his pocket careful not to mess it up. He wanted to say it was okay, but the words could not make their way past his throat. He could see it happening, being high on love and then down when it went wrong. It was Bella and campo all over again and he was not doing that again.
Walter arrived at Maureen’s place to find that she had gone out.
He called her and after two rings she answered, her voice barely audible on the other end. She was coming. He had to wait for like three minutes.
He set the boxes of donuts and kaimati on the step outside her bedsitter and pulled out a cigarette. It was eleven o’clock.
At half past eleven, Maureen came dragging her feet bearing the longest lasting grin he had ever seen on her face. He stood and took a step back inhaling the whiff of cheap liquor on her.
“You couldn’t even buy PK? Ama Fresh?”
“Shut up! I was at this cool party in the next court. Free booze and nyam chom! Hebu get my keys from my bag because I swear I think my fingers have tripled in size, aren’t they just fat?”
“You can drink the whole of EABL but your speech can never be slurred, I don’t know how you do it. So, who invited you to this free cheap booze party you went to?”
“Eish! Wacha kucatch feelings, you are not my boyfie.”
“Good! Come in, and have a seat, or maybe just go to bed. I will deliver these to the houses, just give me that list and I will get right on it.”
“Check on the stool, next to that stove in the kitchen.”
“You put a client list next to the stove?”
“It’s on the wall! And go away, I don’t need you judging me and acting like some god, when you are as nasty and the chairman of team mafisi here in Nai! Just go.”
“Look…”
“Don’t Walter. Just take a picture of that list or pull it off the wall, whatever, and leave.”
“Thanks Love.”
“Yeah, whatever!”
He took three pictures careful to zoom in as much as he could to get all the names and their pastry of choice before he left. It was noon and he had to make it to town for his date with Ruth.
Maureen stood as soon as she heard Walter shut the door behind him. She looked at the kitchen and smiled. There were these feelings that she’d summoned and kept locked in her heart when she started working as Walter’s partner. She could look forward to seeing him every Saturday morning with his boxes of pastries smiling at her, but today was different. He was going to see Miss Boss.
That girl had better treat Walter right, or else her friends could make her not drive that posh car of hers again. It was almost one when she got into the shower and took in the cold water as it merged with her tears giving her the warmth she needed.
Pieces is a story about love and betrayal, as told by Maria- a woman who loves her husband despite his cheating ways and disregard for her desire to have a family. It was published on February 18th 2013 and today I’m sharing it with you because it’s reminded me of how much a story needs to be told.
I hear those women calling on the radio. They say it and the whole country is ashamed of them. Well, I am not. I do not know them. I have to see this to the end. It is always the same voice-these women- they always have something to say.
Secrets are best taken to the grave. I know about his. I know about mine. I hate that I have to act cool, it’s like I am an accomplice. I am an accomplice to his secrets. They will never know, not even if I can help myself. I am twenty four. I am woman. I am strong. I am me. For as long as I know those four facts I will never go wrong. I always thought I was “a woman.” I felt like I was something. It was a while before it hit me that I am not something, but someone. See, someone has “one” and that means composed or one piece, unlike “thing” which means undefined or unknown. I studied English. I believe that’s why I am going round in circles when I could be telling you the truth. For as long as there’s any will in me, I will win this. I will never get mad at him or shun him. I will watch him leave and come back. I will listen to him and still believe that he’s the one.
I will hold his hand at functions and talk well of him. I will dress well and keep working. I will listen to word on the street but not be hushed by them. She will win. She will have him. She will see me and say “she’s foolish.” I will listen to her and smile. When it comes down to the truth, no one will ever ask. For when you love someone, it is never about them- but about what is. For us, it was just him and me. He was charming and handsome. I was modest and sweet. I never came across as pretty, not the way she is, or the five others before her. I was the one who could hand him change to pay for parking tickets. They were the ones he spent his salary on. I was the one who nursed him when he was ill. They were the ones that made him sick. I was the fall back plan. They were the plan. It was simple really, but whatever happened between us was beautiful. I decided to take a business class in marriage. See, it is where I do not invest in anything-I just manage. I know he can tell the difference, any man would. I have lost weight and I am two sizes down. I went to the salon and had my hair cut. I am spotting a chocolate brown short new do. My friends love it. His friends love my neck. They say that my eyes now pop out and I look younger than him. He holds me now. He holds the wind really.
There was a time when he saw right through me. Now I see right through him and what keeps me here is his guilty soul. I have this feeling that he will take a nose dive and I will have to stand and push him off the cliff, you know just like Scar did unto Mufasa. His name is Micah. We met on a Tuesday. I was making my way around the supermarket and he was doing the same. I was buying some tampons and he pretended to be buying some wet tissues. I stood there for a while before he asked “spoilt for choice, uh?”
Ruth had lunch at The Grill for the next three days.
She had pilau on Monday, chicken stew and some chips on Tuesday and then she had a cup of coffee and mandazi on Wednesday. She was served by Maureen for those three days. When she walked into the restaurant on Thursday, it was Walter who approached her table.
“Hi, I haven’t seen you around, are you okay?”
“Yes, I had exams so I took some days off, but it’s good to see you too.”
“Exams? What are you studying?”
“I am getting my diploma in Food and Beverage, so I have to get that done before I get my degree. Um, so before my Supervisor gets on my case for taking too long with you, what will you have?”
“Um, actually I’m good, I just wanted to see you and say hi, but just get me a soda and then maybe that’s okay.”
“Sure, which one?”
“Fanta Pineapple.”
“Sawa, and kubwa ama ndogo?”
“Kubwa! Ndogo ni hasara!”
“I’ll get it right away.”
“Thanks.”
He moved on to other tables after serving Ruth and then went back to the counter to wait for the next client who would walk in. Thursdays were slow days. He made less on Thursdays, but he could always count on the old civil servants who always told him to keep the change. The men loved to let him keep the coins, but the women did tip better especially when they were with their friends. He lived for Valentines and the end of the month- dinner parties where the men actually gave him a fifty or hundred shilling tip to impress their dates.
He inched closer to Maureen and smiled at her. She stuck her tongue out and they both laughed.
“So, have you asked for her number ama unangoja Yesu arudi?”
“Eish! She is cool, nasikia you served her while I was away, thanks!”
“Wacha kujichocha! Huyo dame akiingia hapa anaangalia majamaa wote ni kama utatokelezea! Go get her number, ama ni game ndiyo hauna? Si nadhani unaishi uplands ama wajakushow how to get a girl?”
“Why must you talk like that?”
“Oh! So now you can act polished kama viatu za Rudisha! Haya basi kama umeng’aa enda ukamshow ni vipi!”
“You’re sick!”
“I know, it’s the only way I can stand being a Waitress in a country where people think ati ten bob ndiyo tip!”
“Haiya! Na si uende majuu!”
“We! Napenda maisha yangu, sitaki nitemewe mate ama nichomwe na sigara sababu mimi ni servant, tu juu ya mkwanja!”
“You need help Maureen, like seriously, you need Jesus!”
“Who tells you I don’t have him? I am saying the truth, and who loves the truth more than that guy?”
“She’s done let me show you how it’s done.”
He took the bill from the cashier at the counter and jotted down his number at the back then took it to her. Maureen shook her head and smiled. She always seemed to have moments with Walter. They hang out, and she even managed his Facebook page for him and helped deliver and market his cookies, mandazis and doughnuts in her neighborhood. There was that moment when he had asked about her life when they were having lunch. The truth spilled out of her mouth so easily that it shocked her. When she looked at him, he’d just smiled and told her, “you’re tough.” It was not like she had a bad life, but she’d been through some very bad stuff and to have Walter smile at her like that reminded her that she was human.
He had his own kind of cool, and even though she’d never tell him- she still hoped that maybe one day they’d hook up, or that he’d stop and kiss her, like that chick in Sauti Sol’s new jam, Isabella, who surprised her guy by kissing him.
She longed for a kiss like that from Walter.
On the other hand, Walter felt like he was setting himself for a huge disappointment by giving Ruth his number. Maybe he was reading the wrong signs from her, but if Maureen saw it too, then maybe he’d give it a shot.
He wished her well as she left the restaurant. He continued with his work until his lunch break. He rushed to the changing rooms to switch on his phone and check for messages or missed calls, but when he turned it on- there was nothing but Airtel reminding him of his Smartika bonus, something about walking to work when he could be driving. He switched it off, pulled the pack of cigarettes he had and picked two.
He was walking out when he bumped into Maureen and dropped his cigarettes. She picked one as he reached for the other.
“What’s up? You never smoke during lunch, nani amekuchokoza?”
“Usimind, so what are we having for lunch today?”
“Saddam amesema ni machefs watadecide, kama ni kabeji I swear nitaingia huko ndani niwatusi wote!”
“Okay, see you then, I need to clear my mind…”
“And cloud your lungs! You are too cute to smoke you know!”
“Yes, isn’t that why most adverts on those fancy magazines have pictures of fine women and handsome men holding cigarette packs, and name one artiste you love who does not smoke…and no, weed does not count as smoking…I am talking cigarettes! Real cigarettes!”
“Go clear that mind of yours and join me for lunch…and Walter?”
“Yes Maureen, what is it?”
“Look…listen, she will call, okay. If that chick is into you she will call, just you know…don’t kill yourself with cigarettes before you give her a chance, just saying!”
“See you Maureen.”
“See you in ten minutes Walter, and I said ten minutes!”
“Sawa, that’s five minutes for each cigarette! It’s not enough!”
Walter walked into The Grill as the guard opened the doors.
He had the Daily Nation newspaper with him. It was a Friday and the only reason he bought the paper was because of the many jobs that were advertised then. He was not a sports fan. He hated the pieces written on music and he didn’t care much about the lifestyle section.
He knew all about lifestyle by being a Waiter.
He had been waiting on tables for three years.
He had also dreamed of opening his own pastry shop in those three years, just as much as he had promised God and his mother that he would quit smoking. The good news was that he now brushed his teeth and washed his hands after he had smoked.
He went into the changing room and sat on the bench in the middle of the room and opened the “Jobs” section of the paper. He went through the adverts writing down those that interested him. After he had written three adverts, he folded the paper and put it in his bag and changed, ready to do his job and earn some tips. There were days he earned five hundred shillings and those that he earned nothing. Maureen, his colleague, often said that people in Nairobi were stingy with their money. She would scrunch up her nose and say that even bartenders earned more than they did- yet they served alcohol. Walter laughed whenever she said this because Maureen could put any heavy drinker to shame whenever she set out to drink.
He had seen her drink more than the group they were with at 1824- and still walk into the night as though she’d not tasted a drop of liquor. On the other hand, she never understood how he could smoke but could not stand the taste of alcohol.
Walter would smile and say “everyone chooses their poison.”
It was a lie though because he stopped drinking when he was in campus and received a call at four in the morning that his father was found dead in a trench. He was holding a bottle of whisky when the police found him. According to the police they saw it best to call him since he had his phone and he was the last person the man had called. He never told his mom or his girlfriend then, but he did not want to die in a trench covered with filth and dirt all in the name of alcohol.
He made his way around the restaurant setting the tables before attending the daily staff meeting with Saddam.
The doors were opened at quarter past seven and the customers started trickling in for breakfast. Walter worked but his mind was on Ruth. He hoped she would visit. She had not made it to the restaurant the whole week and he wanted to see her again, and maybe get her that glass of cold mango juice “on the house,” just to say thank you.
After his mid-morning break, he made his way to the Nakumatt supermarket to get some serviettes and tomato paste. Saddam was in one of his moods because their supplier was not answering his calls and had failed to deliver as he had promised. Walter was relieved to be running the errand because he wanted to smoke again. He had the feeling that she would show up today and he would not get the chance to talk to her.
Ruth walked into The Grill with two of her best friends, Nancy and Belinda. They sat down to catch up, as they waited to be served. She looked around but could not see Walter. Nancy ordered pilau rice and Belinda went through every item on the menu before settling for Nancy’s order and smiling at the lady who was serving them.
Ruth looked at the waitress and tried to read her name tag, but the writing was not clear, “what’s your name?”
“Maureen.”
“Thank you Maureen, I would like to know if Walter is around.”
“He will be here shortly. He is with the Manager.”
“Great, if he comes please let him know that his friend Ruth would like to say hi, and you can get me some chicken and rice while you are at it.”
“Okay.” They watched her walk back to the counter before Nancy leaned in and asked, “so you are friends with the waiter here? Is that why you dragged us here instead of Java?”
“You should see that guy. I know it sounds off, but I have the feeling that we have met.”
“Feeling ni wewe! You met him here and don’t go talking to us about dejavu because we know you…so, is he hot ama he’s kawa?”
“He’s hot! I wanted you to…you know, see him and tell me if he’s okay or not.”
“You just want us to tell you if he’s okay or you want us to be okay with you liking a Waiter?”
“That is rude Belinda, Waiters are people too.”
“Yes, that’s what you said about Steve, if I recall it was “Bartenders are people too,” and then when you found out he was serving other women too you could not stop crying about it, what is it with you and people who take orders and tips?”
“You will see him and then you will…gosh! He’s coming here, don’t look, act natural.” Walter smiled as he approached Ruth’s table grateful that he hadn’t given in to the urge to smoke because it might put her off. He could tell they had been talking about him because the other girls looked at him and then smiled back at Ruth as though giving their consent.
“It is good to see you again Ruth.”
“You too Walter. How are you today?”
“I’m fine thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you Nancy and Belinda. Enjoy your lunch.”
He left the restaurant after wishing them well and lit a cigarette.
Lovers pride themselves in who saw the other first. It is almost like winning the race when you are seated on the benches. Walter says he saw Ruth first. Ruth says that she chose him before he even spoke to her.
I say they are delusional.
Walter waited tables at The Grill. He walked in at seven and left at nine every day. He took his first break at eleven. He would walk out and go stand beside the garbage bin and smoke two cigarettes then wash his hands and face and walk back into the restaurant to take his tea and mandazi. He took pride in how well groomed he was for a smoker. No one talked about it because he knew the customers and could easily get in and out of a verbal altercation with a smile and piece of cake.
He was having a bad day when Ruth walked in. It was on Tuesday and he got stuck with Mr. Undecided. The man often ate there but he took centuries to decide on what to eat. He would order and then shout “tsk!tsk!” at Walter as though the phrase “excuse me” was foreign to him. Walter hated him. He took up all his time and did not have the courtesy to tip. There were so many people like him in the city who did not tip. They paid for the food and left complaining about the lighting, music, the waiters and some would say they would not come back, but he would see them walk in at four to get a cup of coffee before going home.
So, the fact that Ruth walked into The Grill on that day and at that exact moment is what Walter calls love.
She walked straight up to him and smiled. He took a step back and looked around before he ushered her to the best table they had. He presented her with a copy of the menu and told her he would be with her shortly. He went back to Mr. Undecided who was still torn between fried beef and grilled beef. As he waited on Mr. Undecided, his eyes took in the new girl that he had just met. She could probably be five feet and six inches tall, or less depending on the shoes. He took in her braids. He loved black braids on women. They did not scream attention or failed fashion sense; rather they were beautiful and neatly done and could be styled in any way to compliment a look.
He excused himself and walked back to her table.
“May I take your order?”
“I will have the lunch special, but instead of sukuma wiki could you get me some spinach? I love spinach, it is way better than sukuma wiki.”
“Sure. What about the drink?”
“I’ll have the passion juice. Mango juice is too thick and I want to be able to stay focused at work.”
“I’ll get it right away. Karibu.”
“Thanks.”
Once her order was ready, he presented it to her and left her to it. He waited on three other customers before he went behind the counter to watch her eat. There was so much he could tell about people based on what they ordered and how they ate.
Some chicks were not adventurous when it came to eating out and would always play safe by eating chips. He hated it. Why would anyone dress up to eat out and order chips? There were so many fast food joints in Nairobi and three were right up in their lane, why would they walk all the way to a restaurant just to eat chips? Walter could never eat out. He knew more about the stress and drama involved in restaurant management that he would rather stay home and cook.
He started out as a Waiter but he wanted to be a Chef.
He loved pastry but could never raise enough money to cover the tuition costs and so he had to settle for what he had. He told himself that he’d open his own Pastry shop every day that he walked through the doors of The Grill.
And he would go home telling himself the same thing.
He made cupcakes and mandazis back at the estate where he lived. He delivered them to his neighbors’ doorsteps every morning before he left for work. He would collect his money every Wednesday and that was how he managed to stay in that estate let alone pay his rent. The women loved his cupcakes. The men loved his mandazis and his landlord loved to receive the rent on time.
“We! Wacha kuota hapa! Table seven amemaliza!”
He winked at Saddam as he approached her. Saddam was the best Supervisor he had ever worked with. He never yelled at them, but when he fired someone, everyone steered clear of him for three days. He also hated it when they called him by his first name because he believed that it reminded people of a terrorist but he was a law abiding citizen.
Walter handed Ruth her bill as her cleared her table.
“Hey, what is your name?”
“Walter.”
“Okay, it was nice meeting you and aki thanks for serving me so well!”
“You are welcome…”
“Ruth. You can call me Ruth and I will call you Walter. See you tomorrow, then. Have a good day.”
Walter looked at the bill as she stood to leave. He placed the tray on the table and caught up with her. “Excuse me…Ruth, will you please wait for your change. It will just take a minute.”
“Keep the change Walter. Maybe next time you’ll get me that mango juice.”
“Um…okay, thank you…”
He looked at the bill and the money she had paid and smiled. She turned and smiled then waved at him before walking into the car that was waiting right outside.
He waved back for it was just another day at the restaurant and he was in love.
nilichoandika 