“Shika simu wewe. Best Lady anakupigia”, Lawi shouts at me as I snap out of daydreaming and catch my ringtone from Over the Horizon, which at times sounds like Some sung pun to me!
0900hrs Saturday morning
“Hey, sasa? Are you in town yet? Usisahau kuniletea nywele.” goes the oh-too-familiar voice as soon as I slide that green accept call button to the right. She sounds sleepy. Probably falls asleep immediately after.
Father Lord! How did I get myself into this?
She has been unwell for the past couple of days. So bad she almost got admitted at the hospital. And truth be told, it had scared the hell out of me. The thought of her on a hospital bed rocking a nebulizer mask looking like Hannibal and a dozen drips running into her hand made me die on the inside.
Normally, she’d come see me on weekends but this was surely going to be different. I was not going to let her travel across more than a couple counties in that condition. Knowing she was indoors under someone else’s care while I wasn’t around made me feel much better. And that’s why I decided to go see her instead, getting myself into a situation that left me a traumatised man.
After a lot of convincing, she halfheartedly agreed to the idea of me being the one to go see her. See, she’s really stubborn. Overly stubborn. Like that drunk friend who’ll always insist on driving you home despite the indisputable fact that he is not even in control of his bladder. You get the idea, no? But the moment she said “Yes” I knew there was a catch. There always is.
2200hrs Friday night
“Sa si basi utapitia Best Lady ya tao unikujie na nywele na crotchet?” She had cooed after the debate I had ‘successfully’ won.
“Say what now? Best Lady? That cosmetics supermarket? Come on! Don’t do this to me!” I retorted. “You know how weird it is walking in there for a man!”
“It’s okay. I’ll come get them myself then” came the reply with finality, and the hint of a chuckle. She was enjoying twisting my arm. Boy does she like it!
“Fine!” I’ll do it I grumbled. “This is not cool though”
Enter Best Lady
0915hrs Saturday morning
I walk into Best Lady Ronald Ngala street, wearing my black hoodie covering my face.
And before you judge, kindly bear in mind that I was raised by an African father and grandpa who had a list of do’s and don’ts for the man I was to be. I was dead sure my late grandpa was turning in his grandpa with a grand sneer on his face, really ashamed of the man I had become.
“I’m sorry grandpa. I’m sorry daddy. But I really have to do this” I mutter as I gather courage to approach one of the attendants to ask for help in locating the hair aisle.
“Ati unasema nini mummy?” Lawi asks as he walks up beside me. Dude had been following me all this time. He never lets the chance to troll me slide. He had already given me a name already!
“Cheki msee, kama umenipiga picha walai nitareset hiyo simu.” I warn him sternly as he pockets his overly large Infinix phone.
“Relax mum. Sijakupiga picha” he teases. Fool!
Apparently, there are male attendants in here! Nice! At least here’s someone who probably understands what I am going through. I frantically scroll through our WhatsApp chats looking for the name of the hair she had asked me to get her.
Jamaican Bulk. Yes! That’s the name. So I walk up to the guy, ask him where to get that and he directs me to the exact spot. Bless your soul brother! Price tag, Ksh. 270. I bet that’s affordable. Or why else do ladies prefer Best Lady? Aren’t they available at Naivas or Tuskys too?
I call her to confirm that indeed that’s what she wants and regret my decision immediately.
“Nimepata the Jamaican thing. Ni 270 bob” I tell her.
“Number? Ni mob? Ngapi zitanitosha?”
*sigh* “How I’m I supposed to know that? Sioni place zimeandikwa quantity. Ama kuna label ya kilo?” I shoot back, frantically looking for a quantity label. Say the number of strands or the weight at least. Nothing. I’m now getting pissed
“Cheki, me sijui ni ngapi” I snap. She knows I’m getting pissed.
“Sawa. Do this, send me a photo of the package.”
“Fine.” I reply and hang up. Things she makes me do…
I take a front image of the package and send it to her via WhatsApp. Single grey tick. She’s not online! But I decide to wait. Network issues comfort me. But 3 minutes later, that tick hasn’t multiplied or turned blue. So I call her.
“You’ve seen the photos?”
“Naah. Ndio naenda kununua credo niload bundles.”
“Woman what? So I should just hang around a bevy of women waiting for you to get bundles? I am deep within the belly of Best Lady you know?” (Wait! That doesn’t sound right. Okay, whatever)
“Chill boo. I am at the shop already”, she soothes knowing too well I am steamed. I hang up.
12 minutes… yes! 12 long minutes after I sent the photo she replies,”Nipigie picha from the side nione kama ni mob” Oh great! I’ll just unhook the package again and take another image. Hold up! Are you kidding me? Another image? No way!
I send it nevertheless, and she asks me to get 3 pieces. “Don’t forget the crotchet”, she adds.
Ah! Yes, the crotchet. I bet she wants to start knitting. My granny still has a couple of those. But I am too pissed to give a flying hoot of who I’ll make the enquiry from, so I just pick on a short curvy lady wearing that unmistakable Best Lady apron. I just might treat my eyes to a visual feast anyway. I am having a long day.
“Sasa, kuna crotchet? Ni how much? I ask
“Poa asana. Crotchet ni 460” she replies. “Ziko pale mwisho.” She says pointing at the end of the hair aisle with a smile on her face.
460? Hand knitting must be too darn expensive. It must be worth it if she’s asked for it.
“Crotchet ni 460” I text her, obviously not in the mood for a phone call.
“Too expensive” comes the reply heavily laden with those crying emojis. “Wachana tu nayo”
I celebrate internally. I’m just a check out away from getting rid of this misery. As I walk to the counter, I spot a bathing sponge. I’ve been looking all over for those. So I grab one and add it to my basket then keep walking. My phone rings. It’s her again. *sigh*
“Baby, is there an attendant near you? Please give them the phone. I need to make an enquiry”
I look around and spot and gentleman setting up wares on the shelf.
“Niaje boss, shika uongee na huyu” I tell him, stretching out my phone to him.
“Harro” he chimes in an accent heavily laden with Nyeri water. “Ehe… ehe… Hiyo hatuna lakini tunaweza kuletea ukiorder. Unajua hizo vitu hazinunuliwi sana huku… Aaah, sawa. Hakuna shida madam. Kuna kitu ingine ulikuwa unataka? … Croshet? Hiyo iko. Ni naite. *silence* … Ati 460? Hiyo ni croshet nywele… Eeh, mwenye alimweleza alifikiria ni nywele… Sawa sawa. Nitampa. Asante madam.”
He chuckles as he give the phone back and asks me to follow him to an aisle where he picks a stainless steel rod with a half-green half-pink plastic handle and hands it to me. “Hii dio croshet bratha” he says, grinning like a green gecko.
“Asante chief” I tell him as I walk away.
At the counter, I try to pay via MPesa only for the attendant to tell me I’m supposed to use the paybill option after I enter my pin and confirm the transaction. These people clearly have no idea how much I want to leave this place. From the corner of my eye, I catch Lawi taking a video of me. I’ll deal with him later.
So I pay cash and shove all the stuff in my laptop backpack which was on my back all this while then hurriedly leave Best Lady. So long!
0945hrs Saturday Morning
“You will pay for this” I text her as I walk into Naivas which is conveniently located adjacent to Best Lady.
“What have I done now?” Comes the reply.
“You really think half an hour at Best Lady is how I wanted to spend 30minutes of my morning?
“Come on baby. It was just hair. Did it make you feel weird?”
“Like hell it did. Less a man even”
“Oh really now?” I can smell the sarcasm from the food aisle. “That’s too much now. Because to me, it takes balls walking in there and doing what you did. It was a manly thing”
I am not sure whether she’s saying it genuinely or just to make me feel better, but it makes sense. I mean, I walked out of the place with my balls intact. If anything, I now view the entire situation from a totally different dimension
“Alright baby. Cold Fanta?”
“Yes! Yes!” she replies.
“Perfect. See you in a few.”
“Oh! And baby, next time you’ll take me to this other place.” I can tell she’s saying not asking.
“Which place?” I ask, genuinely scared.