Good with mature ladies, not a Mario

He’s a quite outgoing. A generous guy when he’s loaded and, when he’s not, he doesn’t shy away from asking for a beer from anyone he knows. That’s Peter (not real name)  

Nobody seems to know what he does for a living, for he’s one of those guys who’ll be seen drinking at any hour of the day, any day of the week—Monday to Sunday.    

“I’ve never been employed by anybody in my life. I don’t want to slave for anyone. I just do my own things and earn the money I need for a good life and I love good life,” he often brags, wearing his characteristic wide smile.

I don’t bother asking him what to be exact about what he does, for I don’t want to hear lies. From my decades of adulthood, I’ve learnt that persons who declares they earn money by doing own things—shughuli zangu or “my own businesses”—biashara zangu, will more often than not be conmen or outright thieves.

“Me, I’m a very intelligent person, people simply don’t understand me,” Peter declares to anyone who cares to listen—and without being asked, “…they think because I only ended in Form 4, I can’t be intelligent - it’s only fools who’d think that way, Mzee Muyanza.”

I’d tell him I agree with him, especially on the bit about stopping at “only Form 4,” for I’m personally familiar with primary school dropouts who impress me as being extremely intelligent, and some Master’s holders who depress me with their observable stupidity.

Well, that’s neither here nor there. But one thing that has distinguished our young friend in our neighbourhood drinking circles is his obsession with women who are much older than him. With his good looks, one would expect the fellow to have relationships with young girls of the Miss Bongo variety, but No!

I’ve on numerous occasions shared the counter with Peter accompanied by one elderly woman or other, each of whom introduced to me as “wife.”

Quite often he and some lady would saunter to the bar, walking side by side, like it’s the case today. He walked in with an elderly, good looking woman who’s clad in a beautiful low-necked Kitenge dress, her neck which is half covered by her double chin displaying two gold chains.

Wide rimmed gold earrings complete the impression that she’s a woman of substance.

On arriving at the counter, Peter puts down the woman’s purse—which she had carried for her—orders me two beers and proceeds with introductions: “Mzee, meet my wife, Chiku; and Chiku, please meet my dad, Mzee Muyanza.”

Chiku extends her bejewelled hand and says, “Shikamoo mkwe.” I respond with the usual marahaba.

Chiku is mostly busy with her handset, so Peter and I are free to engage in our own man-talk.

At one point, speaking in low tone, Peter leans to me and says: “Many fools claim I’m a Marioo, but I’m not one…I’m simply a smart guy who’s capable of associating with mature women.”

Ahem!