Stop there! I know what you’re already thinking. You think I’m wearing those adult diapers that Ann brought? Please! No. I’m perfectly fine. She left with them. Ann is just… Ann. That woman is a walking pharmacy and supermarket in one. She always has something for every situation—bandages, Panadol, diapers, umbrella, even a Bible for when you start sinning unexpectedly. But let me make it clear: I’m not wearing diapers. Let no one spread those rumours.
Now, I forgot one very important gossip, and honestly, this is why love is not good. How can I forget such premium gossip? Before we proceed, if there’s an Akinyi near you, rub your fingers together properly until they get hot and give her a knuckle knock.Yaani Mpige ngoto vizuri. Don’t be gentle. Get that head. Akinyi can’t wrong a man and make me pay for it indirectly.
We were at the bus station—me, Ann, and three random men. Ann is Kikuyu but married to a Luo, so she understands around 90% of Luo . That day, she was on a phone call with her mother, speaking rapid Kikuyu while I minded my business scrolling through my phone pretending I wasn’t eavesdropping (I always eavesdrop a little, just not officially).
When she hung up, she leaned towards me, her eyes wide. “You won’t believe what these men behind us are saying.”
I paused my scrolling immediately. My gossip antenna rose like Wi-Fi bars during power restoration.
Apparently, the three men were speaking in Luo, thinking neither of us could understand. They weren’t whispering—oh no—they were arguing, loud enough for even my ancestors to tune in.
Man 1: The one most offended with women. He looked like heartbreak had become his daily vitamin.
Man 2: Slightly offended, but still hopeful enough to risk another disaster.
Man 3: The quiet philosopher, probably wondering how he ended up with these two.
Man 2: “This one in black,” (me) “is good-looking, but I suspect she’s married.”
Man 1: “Married? Please! She’s married with at least four children, and she’ll still say she has one. Don’t trust these city women. They can even sell you.”
Man 3: “You people judge too much.”
Man 2: “I know women. They’re all the same. I might just ask her out for lunch, taste, and disappear. She’s exactly my type.”
Man 1: “Don’t even dare. You’ll end up like me. Maybe she has an STI. Don’t trust young women. That other one (Ann) looks more like a wife. But this one here? She’s trouble. She’s like Akinyi. After what Akinyi did to me, I can never admire random women again.”
Man 2: “Relax. I’m just collecting numbers for experience. I won’t take her anywhere serious. I’m married, she’s probably married too. It’s mutual cheating.”
Man 3: “You people need help. Maybe she’s single. Not all women are the same.”
Man 1: “Ha! Single where? She probably has three kids, two baby daddies, and one on the way. Ask me about Akinyi. That woman showed me flames. Lied she was pregnant, stole my money, said she was dying, then blocked me. I can’t trust women again. Go back to the village, get a decent girl, and leave her there. City women will finish you.”
Man 2: “Your trauma is personal. I just want her number for my gain. That’s all.”
At that point, we were struggling not to laugh.
Then Man 2 said, “This is not Akinyi. I can tell from her face. I just want to see what kind of woman she is.”
Man 1: “That’s what I said about Akinyi too. Then she gave me syphilis and a fake pregnancy. She even stole my shoes when leaving. My shoes! Can you imagine walking barefoot in heartbreak?”
Man 2: “You’re just unlucky. Akinyi was a community project. Not all of us share your curse.”
Man 3: “You two should write a book called When Akinyi Happened to Us.”
That one finished me. I nearly laughed out loud.
Then Man 2 stood up and started walking toward us confidently, chest out like a village cock on Christmas morning.
Before he could say a word, Ann (my dear mother hen) turned to him and fired in fluent Luo, “Don’t even come here. We’re married and we don’t want you either.”
You should have seen how that man’s face changed. The confidence melted instantly. He smiled weakly, scratched his head, and walked back to his group like a student caught cheating during exams.
Man 3 laughed so hard he almost fell off the bench. Man 1 looked like he was attending his own funeral. The poor man didn’t even blink again.
As for us, we sat there in silent victory, pretending nothing had happened. Inside, we were dying of laughter.
Anyway, my stomach is now flat. Everything came out yesterday. I’m regaining strength, slowly maturing, and trying to stop giving you gossip.
Trying. I said trying.