Riced

It turns out that cabbie Charlo didn’t have much up his sleeve. He had spent a better part of the day staring at the folks at Marūa town that he decided to be our tour guide. First he took us to Pork city where we ate mouth watering ribs with plenty of irio and ugali. Then he took us to a new joint in Karīndūndū where an upcoming artist was playing live mūgithi. With full bellies and drinks on the table we sipped and chatted while tapping our feet on the floor to the music. As the music continued vibrating people started streaming to the dancehall to you know shake a leg. I asked Kīmiti to join me on the dancehall but he declined by way of shaking his head. I left him and hit the dancefloor ready to let the music do it’s therapy to the days ordeal. I swayed to the beat and lost myself in its fragrance. You may ask if music has fragrance and I’ll tell you yes she does. I think music is a woman 😉
As the song came to an end and the opening chords to another began, I turned to look in Kīmiti’s direction and found out that a fine damsel had occupied my seat and was eagerly chatting with him. He seemed too mesmerized by her artificial beauty and the contents of what he was imbibing didn’t help either. I continued to dance and lost track of time until my feet began to ache. That’s when I looked towards the table we’d occupied and found neither Kīmiti nor the damsel.
I walked outside and realised it was pitch dark and that I couldn’t even know the direction of the hotel. I tried to call Kīmiti but he didn’t pick. I called Charlo who informed me that he had dropped him off and the damsel at the hotel and that he’d already left Karatina. I asked the guard for directions to my hotel but he informed me that it was risky to walk at that time of the night. He contacted another cabbie who dropped me off at the hotel.
I opened my room and hit the bed almost snoring immediately. I was woken up at ten in the morning by a knock by the cleaning lady who informed me that it was past check out time. I rushed to the toilet and after relieving myself I ran some cold water on my face and walked out to look for Kīmiti. I found another cleaning lady outside his door who informed me that she’d been knocking on the door for like twenty minutes but noone was opening. I took my phone and called Kīmiti but the phone went to voicemail. We knocked harder but nothing, we couldn’t hear any movement. I panicked and knocked hysterically, then the cleaning lady took off and came back with a copy of the key accompanied by the supervisor. Upon opening the door we found Kīmiti sprawled on the bed unconscious. We tried to wake him up but he didn’t. I took his wrist and checked for a pulse. Thank God he was still alive. That’s when it suddenly hit me, my friend had been riced, ‘ mchele pap.’
To be continued
#StillTheChronicler.

Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

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