Kobokobox

Second consecutive weekend, the noisy neighbors were back at it again. These were not common noises of couples arguing or from a loud music system. It was a voice from a lady as a product of their lovemaking. I thought it would just be last week but it seems the weekend visitor of Mwanajuma is planning on giving us sound shows every weekend. The groan, the breath, the complaining Mwanajuma lets out while they are at it is distinct and could be heard from every room in the house. I'm sure the tenant on the room opposite in the adjacent house could hear her too. Words like “more”, “come on baby”, “yeah” and “right there” were frequently used in their private activities. At one time she was complaining so much with a tone of voice that made me think he was killing her. I found the other tenants complaining next day and we decided to call the landlord, hold a meeting and ask Mwanajuma to remedy their behavior or move out.
A bright Sunday afternoon it was. Though sunny, the weather was moderate. Not so hot as is usual in this Coastal city. Wooden chairs were arranged in a round style facing the center. Concerned parties were present, ready for the meeting. The landlord called before noon to inform us that he is stuck in personal matters and would not be able to attend. There was Johnson Kahindi and his wife who rented the first rooms. On the right for him and his wife, the left one for his two daughters aged thirteen and seven. He is a teacher in a local primary school. Mwanajuma stays in the second room to the right, he was here with the man he is seeing, Wafula. She sells cooked garden peas in the morning and fried potatoes in the late afternoon. Second room to the left belonged to Kache, my sweetheart. Third room to the right belonged to a bachelor, Mwadime who was a freelance mason. Third room to the left was taken by a married couple who had no child yet, The Williams.
The area was Bamburi, in Mombasa. It is densely populated because it is a slum, according to world standards. To our standards, it was not. We call areas like Kisumo ndogo, Dunga unuse or Kibera in Nairobi slums. There is a Swahili architectural design that is so common in houses here. It usually is about six to ten single rooms, a shared kitchen, shared bathrooms and a shared open space between rooms. The house was five minutes walking distance from the road. Rent of a room per month is usually not more than two thousand shillings in these areas.
The meeting started when everyone present was seated. Mr. Kahindi asked Mwanajuma if she could keep it low. His concern was much for his kids, that he didn't want them to know about these things at their early age. Although I wasn't a tenant here, I added that it was courtesy to not let our voices disturb others. Mr. Kimani William just said it wasn't good. His wife was not pleased with her husband's contribution and he added that the noises really bothered her. She asked Mwanajuma to find a husband because now she wont feel safe leaving her husband behind when she goes on office trips or seminars. Mwadime startled us. He said the noises don't bother him and he did not wish to poke his nose into other people's affairs. We thought that was weird, and he always seemed a weird kind of a guy.
Mwanajuma started by asking us if we had no better things to do than listen to what comes out from other rooms? We told her we don't even have to be attentive, we will hear her even if we put on ear plugs. She said that was her pleasure and her business. No one is paying a rent that is more or less, she continued. I have a right to do whatever i want in my room. Wafula was silent all this time, he did not contribute. At last she said, the ones who are uncomfortable should move out, not her. She stood up, called his man, and they disappeared into their room.
That afternoon, we had to turn the volume high on our television set to escape the sounds of devil coming from the opposite room. This time it was done intentionally. No matter how my eyes were glued to the telly, I could not concentrate on what it was showing. Dirty talk broke in through the wall and the sex whimpers made more distinct.
That was not my main problem. My concern, though I didn't say it, was my Kache hearing those noises. My fear was that she would feel I am inadequate in lovemaking, and that Wafula knows how and what to do with women and he was a better lover than me. I remember asking Kache before in one of our conversations if size matters and she replied that it doesn't. She said whats important is the love at heart. But the weekend events at this house made me question if she really believed that. I asked myself why cant I make Kache cry in Passion just like Wafula does to Mwanajuma? Should I find books to read about how to Excite and satisfy a woman to heavenly levels? Should I go to Pharmacies and search for Viagra? My mind was troubled. I had many questions that I didn't know how to get their right answers.
Time passed and another weekend was here. I was not looking forward to go to Bamburi but I had to. When you have a steady girlfriend, it is implied that weekends will be spent together. On entering the house, I saw many were out of their rooms standing outside Mwadimes's door. Mrs. Williams was talking at the top of her voice and other tenants were booing. They had found out Mwadime touches himself using Mwanajuma's sex voices. A picture of Mwanajuma was also found on his night stand. That confirmed my suspicion on his seeming weird. So, he was not opposed on any action against Mwanajuma because it would take away his tools for giving himself a treat. So, disgusting, and embarrassing to him.
Half an hour later a truck pulled up and The Kahindis started packing. They had been looking for a place to move since it wasn't healthy remaining here, for their children' Psychological and social well being. I floated the idea of moving out too but Kache denied. It was her room, not mine. And she said I shouldn't be much bothered if I'm only around during weekends. She could see that this was a big problem for me and she kept complaining about it. At one time she asked if I wanted a free pass with Mwanajuma while her eyes looked sternly at me. We fought a lot. Mrs Williams asked Mwanajuma if she was happy with the turn of events in the house but she gave a quick reply that silenced her. “Ask your husband that question, is he happy coming early on weekdays spanking my behind while I go to the bathroom? Winking at me and inviting me to your room knowing well my man is not around till weekends?”
Men sometimes wish for everything manly. Unfortunately we cant have it all. The passion squeaks are not a big deal but we love it if we are the cause. Are my wants too much? Because the orgasm sounds weren't enough. The common oohs and aah don't do it for me anymore. I wanted to make Kache moan in a unique way. A way that would make eavesdroppers think “he must be an animal.” A cry that makes her release heavy breath when on heights of ecstasy. I wanted her to think I'm the man. A man like no other in this world. But Kache didn't understand this.
This house was surely a hell. I heard rumors that even Wafula was married and has kids living in Likoni. A complex love triangle it was. And instead of being an entertainment, I only saw it as a mockery show to my skills in bed. I could not see myself as the Hero on Kache's eyes, as how they used to. She must have developed a liking to Wafula though she didn't admit it. Why else didn't she want to move? Maybe she dreams about him when I'm not around. What reason do I have for coming here? My woman thinks less of me. I don't have little boys and girls to protect. I'm not drawn to Mwanajuma, and i'm definitely not getting myself off using her sexy cries. I decided not to come here next weekend, and that was the beginning of my slow break up with Kache.