Shiru

My name is Shiru. I’m 5’2”. My complexion is Cadbury chocolate. Wide hips and a thin waist.

I’m well-endowed and men love to remind me that every day. I hate the annoying pick-up lines but love the attention. My friends call me Bum Bum, well, for obvious reasons. In short, I’m a beautiful Kenyan girl and I know it.

I’m an Arsenal babe. My blood boils every time I hear the term “Manchester United.” My hatred for Man U is unhealthy, I agree. And maybe I should see a therapist.

I wasn’t much of a football fan. Actually, I never would’ve cared if Harambee Stars won the FIFA World Cup. James, or Jemo as everyone calls him, introduced me to the sport. And now I’m part of the over 3.5 billion enthusiastic fans around the globe.

James is mild mannered with a well-built frame. He’s good looking, yes, but he wouldn’t make the cut for Mr. Kenya or bachelor of the year. He’s confident, something I noticed from our first minute of interaction. Scene of crime, Kenyatta Avenue, right next to the I&M Bank Tower. Most men are afraid to approach me. And honestly, I can’t blame them. Besides my striking beauty, I dress to kill, like literally, and when I’m strutting down the streets in my stern but stunning face, I look like a fierce lioness ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Jemo wasn’t one to let fear get the better of him.

He walked up from behind me and courteously said, “Hi, uhm excuse me but if I let you go without saying hello I’ll spend the rest of my month, probably year, beating myself up. Plus, I’ve weighed my options and it’s a win-win situation. Well, at least for me. Even if you snob me and keep walking like I don’t exist, I’ll still go home happy knowing that I took the chance. Yes, I might cry in my pillow later tonight but I’ll sleep it out. Tomorrow is always another day and the sun will shine again. But on the off chance that you don’t ignore me, then, it will shine even brighter.”

“You talk a lot, you know.” I say to him as I try hard to suppress a smile.

“I know, but, if we trade places, you’d understand why.”

His flattery is subtle and I like it. Not like the dudes who jump straight into the deep end with “Miss umebeba joh…wawawa!”

“Listen, mister…”

“James, James it is.”

“Well, James, I’m running late for a meeting.” I say as I take a quick look at my Enkata wristwatch. I don’t have a meeting scheduled.

“Maybe we can continue this conversation some other time. How about over lunch?” He pushes his luck.

A sharpshooter. I like that. His bonga point balance is stacking up nicely.

Usually, I’d say no. But something about the look in his eyes makes me change course. Plus he’s well-spoken. What’s the worse that can happen anyway.

“Okay.” I say. My poker face is still intact.

I draw out a card from my tote and hand it to him.

“01:30 sharp,” I say and blend into the crowd swarming into the I&M Building.

Keep your eyes peeled for the sequel…or better yet, just subscribe so that you don’t miss it.