I was made ‘CS for food’ without my knowledge!
What you need to know:
- Amid all this, my funds were reducing fast, but I didn't care. I had my rock, Carol.
- I would feel some weird energy coursing through my veins whenever I sent her Sh600 for pork while I swam through cabbage soup at Mama Njeri’s kibanda.
- On her birthday, I decided to post her on my Instagram and WhatsApp status. What followed still pains me to date.
Last semester, while navigating a balmy academic year, I ran into Carol. The sight of her, and her name, reminded me of Christmas season. I badly wanted to raise my raspy voice and sing Christmas carols for her. Her face was glowing and she had big pretty eyes that stared right into my fading Sunday best outfit. I was swooned by her.
I met her at a local shop where she was buying supplies. I was purchasing pepper and maize flour so that I could go eat life with a bitter spoon. I was frustrated. The ends were refusing to meet. The tough economy was truly messing up my Helb net worth. I was keenly assessing my expenditure as I waited to pay. Carol was in front of me noisily chewing gum. She occasionally tapped her corn rowed hair with her talon-like nails as she chatted animatedly with Mama Otis, the shop keeper. Then she laid the trap.
"Aki, I can't pay the whole amount. Can you please write my name in the debt book?” she requested in a sing song voice. The shopkeeper flatly turned down the request, saying she needed money to restock. Carol looked severely dejected. And that is when a flood of masculine ego took over my life.
“Jaber, kwani how much is the bill?” I blurted. Carol didn't budge or answer. l had on the typical scrawny face of a struggling college boy. She ignored me as though I was a mosquito buzzing in her cute ears. It was after asking the shopkeeper for her bill and paying it in full that she mellowed. I also paid for my two items and we walked out of the shop. She thanked me profusely while we exchanged numbers.
Two days later, while I whistled in my sugarless tea, my phone lit up with a text message. It was Carol. It had been a fortnight and we had graduated from just talking, to the flirting phase. Our rendezvous almost always occurred in supermarkets and shops. She had the habit of audaciously picking any food item. I always carried the shopping basket as if I was a bodyguard to a wealthy woman, and footed the bill without a word. It was during one of these spending dates that I professed my love for her. She didn't give a precise answer but instead resorted to calling me sweet names that nearly gave me high blood pressure.
Amid all this, my funds were reducing fast, but I didn't care. I had my rock, Carol. I would feel some weird energy coursing through my veins whenever I sent her Sh600 for pork while I swam through cabbage soup at Mama Njeri’s kibanda. On her birthday, I decided to post her on my Instagram and WhatsApp status. What followed still pains me to date.
Once the status was up, my pal Brayo reached out and sarcastically called me Mse wa shopping. He said that he knew Carol and she was his clubbing boyfriend. I didn't even prod further. I felt as though I had been conned of all my hard earned cash. I had been ruthlessly robbed by someone I presumed was my soulmate. Kumbe, Carol’s heart was for sale to any willing donor. I had been assigned the Cabinet Secretary position for food and shopping while other guys manned other dockets like hair, signing class attendance and rent. I immediately resigned, and went away to lick my wounds. Of course I am never dating a campus girl again.
