𝕬𝖗𝖓𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝕺𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖌' 🇰🇪🌴

A ROMANTIC EVENING IN THIKA TURNS SOUR Mondayly, hii Riba ni mwecheche design ya Umekunywa Brufen! What had promised to be a memorable romantic evening for a Thika based mason, whose construction skills had earned him contracts in several towns, turned into an expensive lesson in modern dating after the goshodo he had been wooing online failed to honour their much anticipated rendezvous, despite receiving fare in advance. Demolition costs are real, Walai! Fred had met Tash wa black synthetic wig and dust resistant mascara on social media three weeks earlier. Their conversations had blossomed into daily exchanges, to the point where Fred could barely concentrate on mixing cement. The two had finally agreed to graduate their online romance into a physical examination. In his newly revamped kamatangi self contained room, Fred prepared for the occasion with the seriousness of a man expecting a state visit. He even abandoned Nzomo kiosks, where he was a regular customer, and made his first ever supermarket trip, purchasing maize flour, half a kienyeji chicken, two fresh Hass avocados, a hydration kit and two Mission Impossible packs to accompany the evening's meal. The Bluetooth speaker had also been instructed to mind its business and play nothing but slow jams. At around 3pm, Tash was like, "Babe pliz tuma fare aki." Fred promptly sent KSh 1,500. Shortly afterwards, she called again, claiming Fuliza imejinice and she was still stranded. Fred, perhaps carried away by the excitement of the much-anticipated rendezvous, sent another transport infrastructure token. By 6pm, Tash was still on her way, insisting, "Aki babe na come." By 7pm, Fred had graduated from boyfriend to transport coordinator. By 8pm, he was practically tracking a passenger on Google Maps without a tracking number. By 9pm, Fred had sent 17 messages, made 23 missed calls and received 26 different versions of "Bona una doubt babe." Fred, who had already reheated the ugali twice, which is so unKenyan, continued waiting patiently, occasionally checking his phone and the Thirsty Quencher kit. The two Hass avocados remained untouched, their romantic evening having been cancelled without consultation. Meanwhile, the Bluetooth speaker had slowly abandoned romantic slow jams for a Zilizopendwa playlist. Ghafla bin vuu! The WhatsApp profile picture disappeared. Fred had officially been ghosted. But Tash had apparently forgotten that, during their three weeks of sweet WhatsApp exchanges, she had casually revealed her location and house number in Makongeni. Unfortunately, Fred was not the kind of man who believed in letting a relationship end without a physical closing meeting. After several hours of waiting, Fred hopped onto his newly acquired Pararira nduthi and headed towards the estate Tash had mentioned in their earlier conversations. At the gate, he began explaining their relationship and the date that never happened. The security guard, who had clearly not signed up for relationship counselling, refused to let him in. Fred reportedly pleaded with the watchman, telling him, "Huoni hii kazi ni ngumu sana kwangu?" But the security guard remained unmoved. The argument escalated, and Fred eventually forced his way into the building and broke the apartment door. "Tash! Tash wa wazimu!!!!" he shouted as he stormed inside. Unfortunately, the person who appeared was not the Tash he had been dreaming about, but a man wearing a torn Manisiti vest, with Tash standing behind him, completely shocked. Fred froze. Apparently, goshodo was somebody's wife! Before he could explain the 2gee investment and the evening's menu shopping, the husband came charging. Fred bolted down the stairs three steps at a time, breathing like a Mulembe bull imenusa matawi haramu. Neighbours joined the commotion, and suddenly, "Shindwe pepo!" became the soundtrack of an unplanned Viu Once production.