The day I lost my other shoe

Like all bright and academically endowed people, I am naturally restless. I would have been leaving the school every evening to go and inspect development projects in Buruburu and its environs, but the malnourished state of my pockets forced me to remain in-dorms every evening.

My break came when my friend Wesonga, announced he would be in Nairobi Friday last week. The cousin of his neighbour’s brother’s wife was graduating and Wesonga had brought Antony’s family to the graduation in the city.

“We will have Antony’s graduation bash at my cousin’s house in Umoja,” Wesonga told me. “Will you attend?” After lunch that Friday, I left Buruburu Girls at around 3pm. I met Wesonga in town at Afya Centre.

From there, we got into an Umoja-bound matatu to a place called In-A-Corner where we arrived at the venue of the graduation bash. Antony was still in the heavy graduation gown and kofia. Finally, food time came. There was ugali, chapati, rice, chicken and beef. I majored in chicken and rice.

The party went on until 6pm. Once the parents had left, we went to Egessa Club, one of the biggest bars in Nairobi. It was around 9p.m when I received a call from my brother, Pius.

How would you like a Mulembe Night treat?” he asked me. There was no way I would turn such a golden opportunity down. With Wesonga, we met Pius in town and off we went to Mulembe Night.

The place was full to the brim. Since I did not have money, I had to get seated with Pius for the entire time.

At this point, my phone started ringing. I checked to see that it was Fiolina. I ignored the call.

She kept on calling and calling. Upset with her, I disconnected all her next calls. The next thing I received were multiple text messages from her, warning me that she would be going back to her parents’ home the next day.

Rather than take beer, Pius had ordered for a large bottle. I can’t remember its name well, but I think it was called Farmers Grease. “Dre, me I stopped filling the stomach with those beers, you try this today,” he said. Being restless, I tried a glass of the grease. At first it tasted bitter but with every next sip, it became sweeter and sweeter.

An hour later, I was now shuttling between the dance floor and Pius’ table to take a sip of the Farmer’s Grease. I must admit that although I did not know how much it cost, I liked it.

I can’t remember quite a lot but I remember dozing off. I vaguely remember Pius ad Wesonga supporting me to the car. I came to my senses as we approached Buruburu Girls gate. At the gate, the watchmen did not allow Wesonga and Pius in, but they allowed me in, and I started walking towards the dormitories.

And that is when I got confused. I totally could not remember the name of my dormitory. I saw Helena dormitory but thought it could not be a men’s dormitory. I then saw Kingdom dormitory. I pushed the door and went in.

I could remember that my cubicle was the fourth one and so I counted up to four and then went left, ready to sleep. I removed my coat, and remained with my old, slightly torn IEBC T-shirt.

I then started to make the bed, but alas, there was someone on the bed!

I pulled the blanket from the person to see who it was that was on my bed. I had not even pulled it when I heard someone shout; “Mwizi! Mwizi!”. This woke up others and the shouts changed from mwizi to rapist!

“Rapist! Rapist!”. Someone switched on the lights and that is when I realised they were women. The alcohol immediately disappeared from my head and I took off toward the door as other women got up and gave me a chase.

I met the watchmen as they came to respond to the distress call. Luckily for me, the watchmen who had let me in a few minutes earlier recognised me, and prevailed on the others to allow me to explain.

They then let me go, but after parting with more than just words. It was when I went to my bed that I realised that during the scuffle, besides my expensive coat, I had also lost one shoe.

This was so painful, especially because I had lost the left shoe just weeks earlier in similarly unclear circumstances. The next few days at Buruburu were quite embarrassing, because my female colleagues kept laughing at me. But I made a key decision: I will never take Farmer’s Grease again.