The night air was buzzing after the champions league final. We couldn’t sleep even though it was a few minutes past oneย  and we had to be up by six the next morning. In our cubicle, Ephraim, William, Ngigi and I discussed what had been an exciting game. I could still feel the static electricity pass through my skin as Lionel Messi scored the winner. We taunted Ephraim who was a staunch Manchester United supporter. Reminding him how he screamed his lungs out when his team took the lead.

Outside, the stars shown bright in the black canvas of the night sky. You could hear some stray dogs barking in the distance, the noise muffled by the sound of 100 boys snoring in their sleep. I watched as my blue shirt swang outside my window. It was my favourite shirt, the only one that still had a good collar. With the symposium happening tomorrow and the likelihood of some girls from Bishop Gatimu visiting, I had to make sure it was clean and ready for the next day. This meant washing it in the dead of the night and trying to quicken the drying process by rolling it in my towel and hitting it against the wall. After this cleaning exercise, I then hung it outside the window and fastened it to the hanger with a pudlock to make sure no itchy fingers would get a hold of it.

I layed back on my bed and fantasized about the next day. At the back of my mind I hoped Martha would be coming. We had met during the drama festivals and hit it off immediately. She liked the same music I did, did the same subjects as I and to top it all was an amazing dancer. I knew this because we had danced at the back of the stage when the performances were done. Her body close to mine moving to the rhythm of the raggatone music that blasted through the drama hall speakers.

A lot happened behind those curtains. Scenes not meant for a 17 year old virgin. You could here the sound of people kissing, girls moaning and boys gropping in the dark as if trying to make a great discovery. The older boys had locked themselves in the changing rooms. We could only imagine what went on there but the used condoms found the next day did a lot to fill our imaginations.

Maybe this time Martha would let me touch her boobs. She had given me a kiss on the cheek as she said goodbye and left me with her tie to keep till we met again. I wrote to her first. Included tales of Mr Kamua and the new deputy principal who was a pain in the ass. I told her how I missed her and could not wait to see her again. Asked her if she could be my girlfriend and included my dedication playlist with the songs I knew would best express my love. She was yet to write back but I knew she’d have an answer, and a little bit more, if she came the next day.

I don’t remember falling asleep but was startled out of my sweet dreams by, the principal , Mr Nderitu’s voice in the hallway.

“Wake up! Wake up! You foolish boys! Who told you to sleep till this time?”

I looked around to see my partners in crime scrambling out of bed and trying to dress up as fast as they could. There was little time before the pricincipal got to our cubicle. We all knew he was unforgiving with the stick he would obviously have in his hand and I was in no mood to receive a beating. I had to find a way out.

Next thing I know I was flying out of the window, the concrete opening its arms wide open to receive me.

Comment here...

Related posts

9 Thoughts to “Twiga”

  1. Elan Mudrow

    Nice! I enjoyed your writing a lot!
    check out:

    1. Euticus

      Thanks ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Gitahi

    Where is the rest of it?? What happened to Martha’s boobs and how hard did you hit the concrete?? Is there visible scaring?? Don’t leave me hanging like this bro!!

  3. Collins Mose

    Good work Aziz maybe I should start a blog for ndovu hstorical sites and stories….

    1. Euticus

      maybe you should

  4. Muriuki Warui

    Its funny how randomly I just ran into this blog. I also ran into you a while back at a poetry event. As an ex-kavaurian, I know the above building. I think I was a year behind you (Coast lakini. Haha) Its good to see what you write..I hope to write as good as you ‘when I grow up’ or better yet, you should mentor me. Keep it up man, someone’s looking up to you.

    1. Aziz Mola

      Thank you Warui. Email me we talk about writing

  5. Then……you left me hanging. Its a niece piece great work there, congratulations

Leave a Comment