Mbithe MosaMaina saw her first out of the corner of his eye.
A big brown bloop in his peripheral vision.
He was speeding down Moi Avenue in one of his blind rages.
His jalopy did its best to obey the choke hold he had on the steering wheel.
Her hair tie had fallen off.
Her dyed dreadlocks spilled over her shoulders.
He braked hard. Honked. Idiot!!!!
He continued to watch, somewhat intrigued.
She was a queen-sized woman. The kind with many supple curves. Not his type.
She bent over to pick up her purse that had fallen almost onto the road.
The view of her rear end made him twitch, his trousers suddenly uncomfortable.
She shamelessly put the purse between her thighs, clutching so that it wouldn’t fall.
How dare she do something so obscene, and in the street!
His rage blew into a cyclone. The vein on his forehead pulsated.
As she struggled to tame her locks, the flab on her arms jiggled to some unknown African beat.
Her chest heaved and he had to admit he was enthralled!
He double parked without taking his eyes off her.
He heard himself say ‘Madame ugetaka a rift?’
She looked at him like she could see the lust in his eyes.
Out of her pretty full lips, came laughter.
The kind that tickled your neck. Like the water on pebbles in a river.
She laughed at him! Her bosom shook mightily. ‘Hapana, thanks!’
The awkward smile turned into a frown.
He was angry again. So were the Council Askaris.
‘Mzee, unajua hii ni obstruction, fungua mlango!!!’ CHIT!
He watched her hips sway in rhythmic audacity and he was livid.
Obstruction kweli!