The thing about being a bachelor is that either you are eating or thinking about eating.
You can come up with a food recipe on the spot. Who knew ugali is such a sumptuous soiree with matoke? Rice and sukuma? Tea and omena?
By the time you die, if you die, as a bachelor, when the government pathologist slices up your anatomy to discover cause of death, he is not Tuko-shocked: you have eaten so much eggs your nervous system is nervous. Exhibit A.
The amount of fat lining up our bodies makes Amerix’s nerve look like a quack, a charlatan, a fuddy-duddy sham with his OMAD tutorials.
I’m a romantic deep at heart, and I still find the idea of cooking, then farting, with someone’s daughter completely sexy (don’t judge me) and probably that is why I’d get married. I said what I said, Dorothy.
The other day, while I was taking out the trash (men not included), I discovered I had five sufurias. I almost asked myself out on a date. Me? 5 sufurias? This is cause for celebration. Not because I’m a skint or anything. But the (wo)man who invents edible sufurias has my blessing for president.
Since I have given myself to a life of hedonistic principles, we set out to have a lunch date with baby boy Brian and the other one. I didn’t want to eat much because tomorrow I’ll be riding (my bike). So I just ordered two cups of tea, sugar packets (hey) and several chapatis (in my community we don’t count chapatis).
Brian ordered what I consider an atrocity against his Luhya heritage: Ugali pellets and a chicken thigh that is so tender touching it feels like abuse. But what irked me was those ugali pellets. Looks like something those ohmygash mamas order. How do you feed? Was this a starter? No, Isaac, the garçon insists. This is ugali, he says. Oh yes, and dying is the leading cause of death.
There’s something pagan and comical about ugali pellets, like bullets deigned to shoot down your hunger pangs rather than satiate them. But the Luhya bloke is not deterred. I beseech him in the name of our ancestors—and he shrugs like a guy who took a shower by walking through the rain.
Is it because Jupiter is in retrograde and he is a Libra star rising? Can someone read me this hombre’s tarot cards! This is an affront to my Luhya masculinity, I hiss. I invoke the wrath of Jehovah Wanyonyi to discontinue the strain gene in his bloodline. Ugali pellets? With Fanta? Orange?
This just goes to prove one thing—a Brian will always ‘eat’ what an Eddy won’t touch.
My Lord, the prosecution rests.