I’m travelling from Mombasa to Kilifi with this very good friend of mine whom I love so much. She’s just the best travel companion you can ever ask for. And today, she looks exceptionally fine in her jumpsuit(similar to the one pictured)
with some very nice heels to achieve a fake height. The jumpsuit fits her in all the right places and heads have been turning all day long (I honestly think it’s coz it looks like she has a lodged samosa on her crotch but who cares, it’s fashion!) .
As we stand waiting for the matatu next in line (her highness has to sit nowhere else but the front seat) , a gentleman walks to us and offers us two Afia drinks. I politely decline but not my friend. She grabs both of them and gulps down the contents while I give her a disapproving stare.
“Don’t be rude”, she tells me, “you do not know the lengths the man had to go through to get us these drinks.” I roll my eyes as she goes further ahead to tell me that it’s good to rehydrate before a journey blah blah blah. She drones on and on till the journey starts. By the time we approach bombolulu my friend’s legs are intertwined like mangrove roots. One shoe comes off, then the other. Her cute face is all scrunched up and she’s holding her crotch like a woman in labor while shifting her weight every few seconds.
“Everything good?”, I ask.
She whispers that she needs to pee that very second. From her urgency, I sense the danger of receiving golden showers if I don’t act quickly. I quickly motion the driver to stop. We are a little past city mall at this point , there is nothing like a bush or tree to shield her. Just freshly manicured grass in front of the Bamburi nature trail wall. That’s when the real dilemma hit me. The jumpsuit! There is no shortcut getting that thing off when one needs to pee. You have to slide it right off from the top.
“Unzip me! Unzip me!”, she almost cries dancing to the pee tune. As soon as she was free, class was thrown off the window. She took off, wriggling her arms out of the jumpsuit’s sleeves, to a place just a few steps away. Then in full glare of the public, slides the jumpsuit to her knees and pees right there.
“Masalale!!”, a swahili man in a kanzu exclaims at the back of the vehicle .
The driver chuckles in amazement and a few other people join him. The conductor is almost dying of laughter. Normally I would laugh at the situation but today I’m too embarrassed. My friend is there, Squatting barefoot in her brassiere, her buns in display for all the world to see. What a sad sight.
She returns 2 minutes later, adjusting the length and sleeves of her jumpsuit giggling uncontrollably like nothing has just happened.
“aren’t you at all ashamed?”, I eventually ask her as the matatu picks up pace again.
“Relax… No one looks at a nude person twice in public”, she confidently says wearing her heels. Words spoken like a true wise lady. I won’t even tell her people actually opened their windows to get unobstructed views. So much for that theory.
Ps. I’m currently shopping for a new travel buddy, preferably one who dons flared skirts.