Continued from Shikamoo.
After the mahamri na chai breakfast, Zohra thought she had her day planned out. She was not going to draw and carry water for anything or anyone. Instead she would lie on her back on the ledge of one of the balconies; legs swinging on either side and wait for Rashid. That was the picture she had in her mind.
Unfortunately as soon as she stepped out of the kitchen she discovered that Bi Faridah had made other plans.She stood, protruding belly and smug look, holding out a leso that read, ‘Sina ninachokuomba. Wakereketwa kitu gani?’
She doesn’t say?
The white bucket on Faridah’s left created a good color contrast with the orange-blue-black paisley design, kaniki garment.
“Oh no you don’t-” Zohra’s brow knitted.
Bi Faridah took that as a challenge.
“Leso ndo hino. Usinitie macho ya mamako. Baadala yake, funga leso kiunoni, chukua ndoo, nenda kisimani, chota maji, yamimine Dettol kisha uyaweke kenye bafu.” She talked like she was talking to a five year old.
“Wewe…,” Zohra started in Swahili but stopped when the green double cab pick up drove into the compound. She sighed, relieved. Rashid would help her out of this tiff.
Rashid caught on the tension and followed its scent to the spot where the two women stood. He smiled at Zohra. A smile that made her forget that she had banned herself from getting weak in the knees on such prompts.
“What’s the problem here?”
Faridah, bent her head, hid it in her shoulders like a submissive ostrich or something such.
“She wants me for a chamber maid,” Zohra said and sat on the ground in defiance.
Rashid looked down at her. She looked up at him and felt like an ant looking up at a big cockroach so she stood up and hooked her finger on a belt loop; another display of defiance that put laughter into Rashid’s heart and brought it out through his mouth revealing a golden molar.
How tacky! Zohra rolled her green eyes.
“Can’t you see she is pregnant?” Rashid took the leso from Bi Faridah.
“Well she can send someone else, like you for instance. You already have the leso in your hands so go to the well.”
“But she chose you,” he corrected as he moved closer and wrapped the leso low around her waist complete with a knot at the front, making it appear like a slutty sarong. The kind that is tied with the sole purpose of seduction.”You will get the water.”
“Alright,” Zohra whispered and took the bucket.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said to her back.”After all, Sina ninachokuomba. Wakereketwa kitu gani?”
The green eyes, exactly like Mary-Anne Kruger’s eyes, turned only to see him and the ostrich share giggles to the kitchen. She felt humiliated.
“Ahaaa, let’s we see who gets the last giggle then.”
Rashid was too preoccupied with Bi Faridah and proving a point to Zohra that he had forgotten to set the bodyguards loose. She untied the leso, put it in the bucket and sneaked out of the homestead.
Out amidst the rocks she felt like Angus MacGyver. She did not have the trademark MacGyver knife and she knew that this was not TV but she swore to go as far away as possible from those puffed freaks. Her legs and hands were enough for the job.
Only for about half a second did she feel a little childish.