Dear Sponsor Continued By Duncan Kilonzo

Mouth agape, shook to the core, trembling in shock, speechless, Skremu stood still not knowing how to react to what we were witnessing. The same reaction on my face as we stood there watching what had just happened, not really knowing what to do next, I guess this is how Shebesh felt after the mighty Kidero slap ayayaya!!  You see, moments ago, while waiting for the lovely Fiona and her friend, the old guy had pulled up and started pacing around the waiting area while making a phone call to someone whom they exchanged a hearty laughter with and a brief period hanged up, tucking his huge belly under the belt. With a scarlet red rose in his hands, a smile plastered across his face and slight notion of happy eagerness in his gait, he stood across from us away from the amber street lights towering over us, I guess he didn’t want to be spotted by his wife or labda akona deni ya mtu hapo, (at least that’s what I do when I owe someone money). Anyway so we wait a bit longer with Skremu, comforting ourselves that probably their makeup ran out na wakaenda kuomba kwa neighbor (mnajijua). So we keep ourselves busy by checking out the lovely yellow-yellows that use the route, dressed in skimpy dresses and loose attires, lazily going to the nearby eating center, commonly referred to as Klabu, while at the same time responding to their smile greetings and faint hand waves. And it was while I was checking out one particularly pretty Chiquita, in a short light night dress that Skremu pulled me back to reality by pointing in the direction of the hostel entrance…Fiona was coming out.
Our faces light up and Skremu does a final mouth breath check, good to go as we spot the two girls emerging looking all awesome, Fiona leading the way while staring at her phone and dialing at it, probably trying to call Skremu to ask about our whereabouts. Skremu hence fishes out his kabambe waiting for it to ring and alert her of our location. So Fiona raises her phone to her ear while at the same time scouting the area for any sign of us, all this time I am just checking out her friend. Dressed in a short black tight tumbo kat, (these days I hear it’s called a crop top) revealing her flat stomach area that bordered the pure white ripped jeans below that complemented the brown timberlands still with the price tag attached. She was not a yellow-yellow but chocolate is still good for me, the darker the berry…So now at least my predictions and expectations were met, actually surpassed. Can’t wait for this night to fruition, so I nudge at Skremu to pick up the phone as Fiona was clearly calling him, but to my surprise his phone wasn’t even vibrating, not even a text message. To add paraffin to the fire, we could see Fiona actually talking to someone on the phone, she glances around and doesn’t even spot us, but her face lights up, in response to a wave she’s getting from someone else. Puts down the phone in her pocket, signals at Carol who accompanies her, heading towards our direction, Skremu adjusts his coat ready for a hug. This joy is however short-lived as the old guy comes out of nowhere, heading straight towards the pair, his arms raised out towards Fiona. Her DAD!!!
Waah msee hii story imekua tricky sana, uyo ni buda yake amekuja so itabidi tujichuje. I advised Skremu in a tone of alarm, taking some steps backwards away from the scene, not to be seen by her dad. Skremu was however way ahead of me and already increasing his pace away from the trio in shock, while at the same time glancing back to try and see any trace of relation between Fiona and the man. Oya Danko sidhani uyo ni babake, he pointed out, stopping fast in his tracks, squinting his eyes for a better view. His suspicions are however confirmed by their action, the old man holds Fiona by the waist even after the hug, with his hand slowly caressing it with a grin on his face, the other hand handing Fiona the rose flower and a bundle of cash. She lights up and screams hugging the man, mostly hugging his protruding belly, followed by a light pec on his fluffy cheeks. At this point his fat hand is no longer around her waist, but lower and Fiona seems to even enjoy it as she smiles seductively at the man, whose reciprocate smile reveals one gold tooth, complementing the enormous glittering rings on his fingers that seem really expensive. After a brief introduction of Carol to the man, he holds both girls around their waists, directing them towards his awaiting car. Carol jumps into the backseat as the man opens the passenger door for Fiona with an evil smile across his wrinkled face. On his way back to get in the car, he spots us and sends a mean green look at us, he’d obviously spotted us checking the girls out before. Closing the black tinted door behind him, he roars the fuel guzzler to life and screeches away, leaving a cloud of dust behind. That’s the part where I remembered Visita’s song, Ivo Ndio Kunaendaga
Coughing from the huge cloud of dust left by the car, we swallow our pride and start walking back to our places, heads held low in shame, hands inside the pockets, Waah enyewe sio poa kujichocha. Yaani all this swag is going to go to waste, stood up and left for the cold of the chilly night. It is times like this that you just want to go and buy a tree seedling, water it to maturity, buy a rope and hang yourself on it. The same girls who were previously giving us heey’s and HI’s pass by and snob our greetings, as we try to redeem ourselves by maybe finding plan B to avenge for the shame caused. The taxi guy calls Skremu, prolly to notify him that he’s arrived, but he doesn’t even pick it up in frustration and even almost throws away the kabambe. With the bonus money however still intact, we decide to hit Klabu for a heavy supper, heavy enough to accommodate the copious amount of keg cups we’ll later have at the local keg place, conveniently called Makombe’s. After munching down on some ugali fry na juice ya mbao, we head on to Makombe’s. As it is Friday, the place is fully packed and we meet up with some familiar faces. Three keg cups down, Skremu starts blurring his Fiona sponsor problems to anyone who’d care to listen. My friend, Masha just so happened to be present and conveniently advises Skremu to vent his anger towards Fiona, something he immediately does in text…
Kwenda uko kabisa, ata…ata sitaki kukuona tena, you have felled us (umetuangusha) a lot.
I hope ushikwe na bibi ya uyo jamaa ata...na pia upate sup kwa exams, sups zote, ata mimi
Nitapata gari na nkikuona kwa njia ata sitakupea lift, very stupid…
He’d text more cruel stuff but I snatched away the phone just as he hit the send button. And at that very moment Skremu swore that his new ambition isn’t to be a doctor or pilot anymore, it’s to be a sponsor when he grows up, to revenge against Fiona. I seconded him as we slowly sip the seventh keg cup and drink away our sorrows.
So dear sponsors and sponsors-to-be out there mjue mnatuumiza, now the only way we can compete with you is by betting on Sportpesa, otherwise we have HELB, iTax na deni za mama mboga to worry about, but ngoja tu nishinde jackpot, I will be the youngest sponsor around, ladies watch out for this hehe…

Dear Sponsor By Duncan Kilonzo

So last week my friend, Skremu won really big on that magic site, Sportpesa. “Msee nimeshinda bonus kubwa this time, ata saa hii naeza kuwa sponsor wa Fiona” he came jumping at me in a happy-frenzied manner, like that of Ronaldo after winning the Euros. At first I didn’t understand him, having sworn off betting and all, the terminologies have never, up to this day, stuck to memory and so I inquired further on this ‘bonus’ thing, something he was really happy to answer. I know most of you guys don’t bet so I will spare you the details and sum it up in one word…money, lots of money. So anyway, we are there celebrating and start building castles in the air of how many things we would do with the money including, but not limited to buying Thika Road, eating special madondo at Kempinski, visiting Oprah, you know, realistic things. Now I know you are there asking, who is this Fiona girl he is talking about, well don’t worry, lemme explain. You see there are lot of adjectives I could use to describe her, but beautiful sums it all up. From the long flowing hair (na sio ya farasi ama ya Abuja), to the curvy edges around the waist area, to the yellow-yellow skin complexion, to the starry eyes, not to mention the filled bosom that has all members of team Mafisi drooling over. And what’s more, she knows she looks good and so she always walks around in tempting gaits and dresses tighter than Michael Jackson’s pants, in short everyone wants to dandia her.
But by respecting the laws of economics of demand and supply of course it’s hard to actually get her, hell it’s almost impossible to even talk to her, of course unless you have money, when money talks Fiona listens, trust me she does. So anyway Skremu decides to chocha himself saying now that he has gotten some windfall gains he’ll be able to meet her huge financial demands, I clearly know this is next to impossible, but who am I to down his spirits…go for it man, jenga jina haribu wallet!! So Skremu texts, scratch that, calls (which he rarely does) Fiona. After 3 failed attempts, she finally picks the call; and with a bored tone answers, ni nani? Shocked and stocked that she doesn’t have his number, Skremu stutters his name with a forced hearty laugh, and expecting her to reciprocate the laugh and light up, patiently waits for her response, but to his shock she actually hangs up! This sends me rolling to the floor in uncontrollable mocking laughter, holding my ribs that were now aching in laughter. Clearly angered by her action, Skremu decides to reveal his actual intentions to the snobby girl and texts her….
Hi Fiona, ni Skremu the guy from UoN, we met last month at your friend’s, Rehema, birthday bash, nlikununulia ile keg cup and you said you liked my dancing after that and we exchanged contacts. Anyway I am just texting to ask if you’d like to go out this Friday with me to Club Aqua. Kutakua na shisha and some drinks =)  
This text was obviously not going to work, at least not the way Skremu expected, I am very sure Fiona has better plans for the weekend, given all the guys that are after her, most of them clearly richer than my broke ass friend who is about to spend all his newly earned windfall gains on a chic who doesn’t even know his name. That, and also the fact that he included the “I bought you a keg cup” in the text, an obvious turn off for the Ciroc and Jameson- used chic. But actually to our surprise, Skremu’s phone beeps and he immediately picks it up throwing a mocking face in my direction with the “in your face” look. He lights up while reading the text, and so snatch it from him and read it out…
Xaxa Alex, aki pole sikuwa najua ni wewe, nlipotexa ximu but nakukumbuka. Btw ata nlikua natafuta planx xa weekend xaxa ntakam twende, uxixahau kunikujia ama utumane taxi na shisha pia ikuwe kwa wingi kwa xababu nakuja na bexhte yangu pia…
Now I thought that  only guys from muchatha  use the ‘x’ instead of ‘s’, but apparently even the pretty upstate girls do, a part I pointed out to Skremu, but that’s not even the elephant in the room, it is the last part of the text that was the issue. She’s bringing her friend, which is an added cost, plus a taxi, something that will cause a huge dent in the budget, a dent Skremu was still willing to take. To balance out the girl-boy ratio, Skremu offers me a chance to accompany him to the event, something I reluctantly accept but then he comforts me saying he will cover all costs. I immediately consult my limited wardrobe options and settle for a simple look, a checked Vybz Kartel sweatshirt (zile za Ngara) a faded pair of trousers that I had inherited from my elder brother and worn out third-hand bubble gummers shoes I had bought for 200bob from my local shoe dealer, Mose. Believe it or not that’s my Sunday-best look, something I still pride myself in. So the day, Friday finally arrives and I am exhilarated about the evening’s offers. You know how birds of the same feather flock together, I have my fingers tightly crossed that Fiona’s friend, Carol is equally pretty, something that prompts me to spray on some borrowed cologne, like the ones Muslims spray, Binti wa Fatuma. All clad and looking fresh, I head on to Skremu’s place.
Clad in a slim-fit beige coat, with a Jordan 23 t-shirt underneath, well-ironed khaki pants and sleek red Converse shoes, Skremu was clearly dressed to kill plus a slight hint of Polo cologne wafting airily behind him. The Sportpesa guys had really hooked him up good, unless hizo zilikua nguo za kuomba. After a short phone conversation between Skremu and the taxi guy, we head on out, not even stopping for HI’s and heey’s from other girls who were waving at us, clearly impressed by our sharp look and that rich money appearance we had going on. With our sight set heavily towards the building that is the ladies hostels, we increase our pace, with a slight swagger in our step, looking like some superstars out of a James Bond movie. So Skremu calls Fiona up notifying her of our presence, and she responds positively, tunakam xaa hii. And so we decide to wait outside the hostels, knowing it would be like 30 minutes, wakiweka make-up. While we are still there, a sleek black carbon Mercedes AMG car pulls up and parks near the hostel entrance. Few minutes later a short, pot-bellied, triple-chinned man in his forty’s steps out with a big expensive-looking phone in his hand clearly looking/waiting for someone. At first we ignore him as we have more pressing matters at hand, but what happens next shocks the crap out of us…