I sit on the bench waiting for my turn. The 7 o’clock time news play on a 32 inches screen mounted on the screen. What is it with having screens at the reception area, some type of psychological trick? Maybe or maybe not. I scroll through my phone in an attempt to block out the news anchor’s voice and for a moment it works. My mind is overflowing with how my evening will roll out, trying to understand a Semester’s Biochemistry in a day. That is the meaning of impossibility but have you tried working under pressure?
I patiently wait at the reception area for my turn. The client inside seems to be taking too long giving the butterflies in my stomach an opportunity to turn into full-blown angry birds. It is a Thursday evening and the streets of Nairobi are full of people, it is your typical rush hour and the queues at Odeon are already making their fourth bend. The nightlife is slowly creeping in and the nocturnal creatures of the city dress up for the dark. With the clock ticking fast, I already feel weird in my flowered chiffon dress and white bata ngoma shoes.
The walls are a blinding white with a contrasting grey for curtains. A strong bleach scent hits my nose on arrival and that boosts my confidence that I am in the right place. The receptionist is a middle-aged woman who is rather too eager to get home as she keeps checking her bag. It must be she is not adequately paid for her overtime.
I spend some more time on my phone and after what seems like an hour, I am called inside. Serving the last client must be an exhausting relief. I walk into the tiny office, hoping and praying that I don’t live to regret the decision I am about to make but the face that meets my eyes confirms my worst fears. Actually not the face the hair meets my eyes first. My plans are thrown out of the window and my words tied up in an incoherent knot.

Seated on the opposite side of the office desk is an African male in his early 20s. From the firmness of his collars and the neatly done four-in-hand knot of his tie, he shouts authority. Even so, it is not the tie or firm collar that make me cower in his presence; it is the angle at which his jaw bends, the length of his mustache, and above all the thickness of his eyebrows. I expected him to be behind the desk, but the thirty minutes ride to Nairobi CBD and the hour or so at the reception didn’t quite prepare me for the sight.
“How may I help you Mis…” he stops mid-sentence on realizing that the girl seated on the other end is too familiar a face to be a client.
“What are you doing here?”

Not exactly the kind of reception I expected, but his voice has my eyes glued on the movements of his Adam apple. How is that voice made in that box? What do they say again, he has my ovaries twerking.
For the last eighteen months, he has had me walking on pins and needles on how well I should put it without appearing desperate; how well to put it without losing my Africanicity. For the over two decades that I have lived on earth, I have learned that it is that the guy should pop the question. all the same, times have had a paradigm shift and more Wandias* are arising, myself included. If there is one thing that 2020 has taught me, is that life is too short, just do it! Coming to his office, I had a whole speech prepared and rehearsed eight times in front of my mirror. I had prepared a counter reply to every possible objection and even booked a therapy session in case of rejection. For heaven’s sake, I even had a backup plan B, C, and D. However, his constitution, and seemingly flawless physique must have unplugged my eyes from my brain.
Nevertheless, better three hours too soon than a minute too late to cuff the one!

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Wandia – The River and The Source by Margaret Ogola.

Earlier last week, a video of a propasal gone wrong at Kencom Nairobi topped the trending charts. It is not the proposal that made it to the top, but the not so sweet outcome that followed. December is the cuffing season, and with it comes drama.
Ladies, can you propose to your boyfriend?
Gentlemen, would you like to be proposed to by a lady?
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^Faith

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