A fish-eating trip gone bad

I travelled to Kisumu one February to eat fish and treat myself after Valentine’s Day passed by, and my beloved failed to show up.

I booked myself at Kiboko Bay Resort. I went to Lwang’ ni beach to eat fish. I toured a few places in the lakeside city and even danced ohangla music in some clubs. I went to the port and became a captain for a minute and made so many friends. My five-day tour in came to an end, and prepared to travel back to Nairobi on Saturday morning. 

Handsome man

I headed to the bus booking office, and before getting into the office to buy my bus ticket, a tall and sexy gentleman approached me. He had a Prado, and he was driving back to Nairobi. He was looking for passengers. There were a male co-driver and three women, one of whom I recognised.

Let’s call her Karen.

Karen introduced me to the rest of the crew. We exchanged some pleasantries, and soon I was calm and settled. That feeling of belonging to a great clique of friends that you have known for ages. The co-driver was Karen’s boyfriend, a doctor. For this story’s purposes, his name was Odhiambo, and the driver’s name was Ouma.

They were looking for one extra person, and when Karen saw me, she asked her boyfriend Odhiambo to call me. Our journey back to Nairobi started on a high note.

A flying machine

The machine was flying! These people knew how to eat the life with a big spoon. Except the driver, the rest were drinking the most expensive whiskeys—the ones with surnames.

I joined the party, taking one shot after another of expensive alcohol. 

I wonder how that fight with his wife ended.

 I started speaking in capital letters. My English poured through my nose. Whenever we ran out of alcohol, the gentlemen would stop at the next convenient place and refill.

We soon approached Nairobi after almost 14 hours on the road. I mean, we had been partying throughout the journey. No one was in a hurry because the following day was a Sunday. We finally dropped off Karen and Odhiambo in Westlands at 11 pm. Next was the other girl in the party, and then me before Ouma made his way to his house.

I stretched in the back seat to sleep as soon as everyone had alighted, only to be woken up the following morning by a screaming woman asking who I was. I had fallen asleep at the back of Ouma’s car, and he had forgotten all about me!

His wife was screaming, demanding to know who I was.

 “I see you decided to bring one of your girls home, eh?” she asked.

 Ouma had no idea what she was talking about until he moved closer to the car. Then it hit him that I never alighted.

I wonder how that fight with his wife ended.