The General post office, Mombasa. The
mostly used meeting point. At most, then when we were young adults.
Now we know better, mature people meet at home or at a cozy
restaurant. I guess then our age did not offer many options, we did
not want our parents to see who we were courting and a restaurant is
where you take a sure thing.
Early February it was a couple of
years after secondary school that I was a subject of a date in hope.
I had agreed with Nana that we would meet here at 11:30am then find a
good place to have lunch. Another reason why youngsters met here was
that we liked the curious eyes following us. We smiled inside when we
tried to put ourselves in the eyes of the public waiting for Matatus,
or on appointments just like us five minutes ago. “How did he get
such a hot girl?” we would think they think. “he is proud,
showing off he has a smokin! gorgeous girl.” Another fantastic
assumption. And my response to them in telepathy was always “i am
Handsome, and I am lucky.”
G.P.O was accessible with little
effort from any suburb of Mombasa. Every bus and Matatu passed
through here, there was no need spending more on taxi fare. And ten
minutes before the time agreed, I was already here wearing a big
smile. I leaned on one of the corners bearing post office private
boxes looking at each luminous decorated Matatu stopping by and
passengers alighting. Some boarded the Matatus heading to Likoni
Ferry and some to Docks. Others entered the Post office building
while others headed to different buildings behind it. I looked at
them trying to play psychic to discover their thoughts. I dropped
them as soon as they were out of my sight. The highway in front was
busy. Across it was “No Maneno.” a shopping center famous for its
clothes and shoes. To the left was Bima towers, once the tallest
building in Mombasa.
Nana was my new quest. We met in a
Matatu two weeks ago and I tried my wavy lines on her. Her smile was
a clear green light to me. Clad in a white head scarf and a black
long dress known as Buibui, I couldn't figure out exactly her body
contours since they are a priority to me while checking girls out.
She was seated, as did I. I came out at G.P.O. Even though it was not
my destination. I was heading to Cannon towers. But I had to at least
see how majestic her walk was. She was friendly and didn't seem too
proud as most strange girls. That's why she gave me her number.
Half an hour had passed. I didn't mind
that lateness. I understood girls need to prepare their looks. They
would touch on microscopic details which men would not catch an eye
on. They did it anyway. And I would seem uncaring getting angered by
little lost time that was used for my benefit. For my eyes. For me to
be impressed by the princess' like looks. My uncle came out from a
Matatu from Bamburi, we said greetings and he headed to the Municipal
council office in Treasury square. Then my friend Morris(Kamwana)
from Mikindani saw me as he was passing by. We talked for less that
five minutes and he was on his way too.
I looked at my 3310 Nokia cellphone
but could not see any missed calls. It was 12:15pm and I was
beginning to get worried. We have all heard of once bitten twice shy.
But I did not want to entertain that figurative shyness here. It
would be giving up, and the idea that some girl has gotten the most
of me just like the first time. It was just a year ago when a girl
who promised to buy me dinner stood me up at Island Dishes
Restaurant. I waited patiently for her while drinking Fanta that I
had ordered to cloud the slow moving time. I ended up paying for the
soda an hour later and left since she could not be reached on her
switched off phone.
Men rarely make fake date plans. Our body language is so transparent. And if it's to lie, we would make up excuses and create busy plans the time you want to meet us. This
is a girl thing. I don't know why girls cannot be honest enough to
say I don't like you so I wont go out on a date with you. And to a
fair number of them, its neither softening the blow or being shy.
They just want to have a sick sense of pleasure knowing that they
have stood up someone. While humanity considers sensitivity to lean
on the feminine side, this is outright insensitive. Some boy has lost
his time, he could be doing something else. He has lost his energy
putting on attractive wear he had washed and the standing while
waiting for you. And he has lost 30 bob Matatu fare coming from
Magongo, Mombasa west. And 30 bob returning fare.
I doubt if any girl is able to wait
half an hour for a guy while standing. Be late for ten minutes and
you will be met with a somber face, no matter how justified your
reason would be. For a respectable caring person, he or she would not
make fake plans in the first place. And if he was not joker, at least
he would call to say he would be late or she wouldn't be able to make
it. That call would be made in time so as not not to inconvenience
you.
Fifteen minutes to one, and I had
started feeling hungry. At this time, we were supposed to be on a
table somewhere taking “chips mayai” and soda. I know she would
have ordered chicken with her chips, but I would settle for the
omelette and soda. But she wasn't here. I had been on a date before
where a girl was late for two hours. I waited for more than two hours
at the Butterfly pavilion and finally she showed up. I don't know if
it was her long preparations, maybe she had second thoughts about the
meeting or maybe it was my calls after every twenty minutes asking
how much time till she arrived? The good thing is, she showed up in
the end. But today, this one is beginning to nurture my doubts. I
finally decided to call, she picked up, and she apologized for
running late but assured me she is on her way.
Fifteen minutes past one, the sun was
over in front shining directly on our side. The shadow was
encroaching my standing point. After noon temperatures usually go
high in our coastal town. I was sweating, but not so much. I had a
hanky in my pocket which I used to wipe out sweat on my face. I
thought of going round the G.P.O. Building but was afraid Nana might
arrive and miss me. So I walked to the right just twenty meters and
looked at the road leading to Central police station. Then I turned
and walked left to the pavement of Bima Towers. Far left at the
round-about where Digo road intersects with Nkrumah road and Moi
Avenue, there is a big clock. I checked to confirm if my Phone watch
was far ahead, but it was one thirty, just as mine. I called her
again and she said she is in a Matatu coming. I returned back to my
standing post and saw another guy there. It was not my post by right,
so I stood in another place beside and continued waiting.
How much time does a Matatu take from
Tudor to G.P.O? I asked myself. I was getting impatient. It was 2.Pm
and she had not arrived yet. Even in rush hour it takes less than
twenty minutes from Tudor to GPO. However I convinced myself to
exercise more patience until 2:30 when I called her again. The phone
kept ringing but she was not picking up. Reality downed on me, I had
been stood up again. The happy face I worn when I came down from a
Matatu had faded. I was sour, felt betrayed in my heart and hated
myself for falling into cheap girlish tricks again. I knew I had a
naive heart, but that's what I believed sweet romance is about. Its
time I stopped listening to my heart, I thought. There were tremors
inside my body. I was lucky people could not see through my shirt,
otherwise whey would have noticed the shivering. I have to get home
fast and wash away this body sweat. Then I would buy a queen cake and
soda, take it to my room, and sulk while listening to heartbreaking
music.
