Flavored rubber

A hot Saturday it was in the August holidays of the Millennium year. I was sweating. It could be from the common heat of Mombasa town, no one would wonder why a person is sweating on the streets. But it could also be the uneasiness, worry in me that made my heart beat faster. I was behind G.P.O. Close to my destination, Makadara Chemists which was opposite Makadara grounds.

There were Pharmacies in Ratna-Square, but one or the other staff might easily recognize me. What if I meet someone I know inside? Or just when I was going out and they saw me carrying the rubbers? These were goods identified with an activity done in secrecy and in darkness even if its legal. I wasn't going to let anyone have reason to paint a bad picture of me in the neighborhood. I was just twenty years old, unmarried.

It would be my first time buying protection. I had not seen the need to purchase some before because I was not a playa. Shy guys rarely get dates or girlfriends, hence the little knowledge I had on these artifacts. While in Upper primary, just about the time our Science teacher taught us the topic on adolescence, a neighboring health center came to visit us in class. They advised us more on young adulthood. Told us about AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases.

We were given a free box of condoms each. We felt like men having them although we were still virgins. I took the box home and hid it on my clothes' box. After a month, I could not see the box. But I wasn't surprised much because the wooden box had no padlock to secure its contents. After that, I saw condoms on TV commercials and in hospitals beautifully hanging on racks indicating “Please take one.”

I entered Makadara pharmacy and it was full of buyers. Everyone raising their hands to hand out their prescription wanting to be served first. No one knew me. And when I told the attendant I wanted “rough rider”, he acted cool. His eyes, I suspected he was laughing inside. I was still worried about those who are coming now to the Pharmacy. I hurriedly put the box given into my trouser pocket to avoid any surprise embarrassment.

When you sit in Maskan, neighborhood peer groups, we hear stories about these things. That rough rider is the best love making rubber. We assume even if we go rough due to cumulative sexual energy we have banked since childhood, it wont get torn. How could it be so sweet if the rubber is so thick and hard? Some boys said they looked down upon the love tool. To them its either 'meat on meat' or forget it. We tell stories of girls we have scored and give details that excite our friends. Those of us who had not, we come up with one beautiful lie about a girl far from our neighborhood. We cant lie about many, we will be caught. But one or two stories are enough to gain respect from the band.

Today, as I had those three pieces of rubber, my heart kept debating with my mind as I was undecided. Our faith and culture strongly opposes pre-marital sex. I had gotten the rubbers not because I suspected the girl had a disease, but just to prevent unwanted pregnancy. Somehow protection gave us a sense of security. That It will be a sin done and forgotten. No residue or evidence will be left behind to brand us sinners.

Samya was a sweet girl. She loved me. Our relationship did not start over the phone, but after we discovered that sms is a sweet and cheaper way of communicating, we were all over our Nokia 3310s every night sending each other romantic messages. Few times we met at Mombasa beach and we enjoyed the shyness and company. It felt good to be with a person full of love for you and willing to do things for you at your request. I Felt so lucky. This girl had the curves of a marmalade. Pretty, and she was the first girl I kissed.

I always got the signal that she wanted more in our romantic beachcapades. Kisses and touches were just a dessert, she had not received the main course. She wanted me. I wanted her too, so badly. But there were conscience wars in me. Its funny, usually girls want to wait till marriage and boys want to have the cake without delay. Here, that rule was reversed. If I say anything that suggested I don't want the Adamic-Eve pleasure, I might be mistaken to be gay. Or she would think that I have no feelings and love for her. The last time while she was on me while we were alone, I told her I didn't have a condom. what a lame excuse. I sometimes laugh at myself how silly I was to utter those words. And to think a girl would understand while I swiftly get off the hook. Disappointment could be seen on her face. I didn't even know how to wear the rubber, that which I was taking defense on.

So that is why I had gone to all that trouble today to acquire the rough riders, strawberry flavor. We had planned to meet at the beach between 4 and 4.30 in the afternoon. In my head, I was planning to take her to a cheap cottage I had rented for twenty four hours. I knew I could not use the foolish alibi again. She arrived ten minutes late. I would understand even if she didn't come at all after last time. She seemed low in mood but I knew my dexterous hands would cheer her up in no time.

We held close, kissed, talked, did our things and the air was whistling in a rhythm that gave promises. Sea waves joined in to praise our romance too. And as I was high with hopes of scoring for real tonight, she told me that she was on her days. Oh, I was a little taken aback but I knew the natural concept. Somehow it was a relief that it was not me who disappointed her this time.