When I Met The Cotton Doctor - Morgan Clothline

So one of these days, Felix, my assistant film director and I went to church and truth be told, he looked real dope(save for his black as coal complexion). The thing about me and fashion is, I am the last person you want to meet especially when you have on you are a flop. Doesn't matter what designers you got, if they are a flop, I tell you straight to the eye. Not that I done on the best stuff, because, when you spend your entire life behind the camera, what business do you have with attires save for your black vest, nice shorts and some sandals(if need be, otherwise you will always be on a dolly or crane).
Felix had this nice looking blue coat that seemed to fit every inch of his bony body(ooops! Sorry if you are reading this) like whoever made it was masking it on his skeleton. It had these two white and red stripes, not painted but real cloth, that gave it both an expensive and swaggish look. But the thing that completed this look was nothing else than the classy, glossy, flossy(add all nice words that are am embodiment of great fashion, as long as they end with "sy").
So for once one had me craving for great fashion and I sought to know who the tailor of that coat was, and that's when I met Morgan, Felix's brother(another bony one. Haha).
Morgan is not your ordinary tailor. He is a god in what he does. Like any other person claiming to be good, I put him to test and what he delivered was way way more than what he said he would make. I mean, he didn't just deliver, he amazed me. The African print he made for me was so good that it has become my most favorite cloth. Like, I literally have to remind Felix, and a bunch of other people I call friends, that I have other shirts, because it has become my Sunday best that I do not plan to abstain from putting on. So I sought to know this guy's story and this is what he told me. 

CODESET: Who are you?
MORGAN: My name is Morgan mbuvi
CODESET: So what do you do?
MORGAN: I am a fashion designer as well as an artist.
CODESET: Artist? Tell us more about that before we get into fashion.
MORGAN: Okay I was doing music back then but I noticed that my projects weren't selling that much...
MORGAN: So one day I was called for an interview in a local radio station and as I interacted with some artists I noticed that talent alone in music can't take you far...so I got maself some skills that would enable me push on
MORGAN: So fashion was born...I began creating looks and taking them to my tailor only to realise that this is actually my real talent
CODESET: What a story. And off that was born this? So tell us about your brand?
MORGAN: Actually I run my own brand..MORGAN CLOTH LINE. I concentrate more on flower art I.e lapel flowers, bow ties,pocket squares,hair bands,wrist band and much more...I also work on African themed outfits. Like the Nigerian native shirts,the maasai ngauo styles,the ndembele print patched shirts and lots of colourful goodies
CODESET: does this mean that you can tailor the product to suit the customer's taste?
MORGAN: Sure

CODESET: Morgan Clothline, when did you begin this.
MORGAN: Mmmh 2015
CODESET: So, you have been running this business for 2yrs, how do you find the business?
MORGAN: Like any other business it has got some challenges but I thank God I find it easy to get to a solution incase of a problem
CODESET: Good. So, where can people get your products?
MORGAN: Most of my clients are distant so we work online on delivery basis...but you can get us at Thika youshop stall no 13
CODESET: Majorly online? So what's your page so that people can grab your products there?
MORGAN: Facebook am Morgan Mbuvi my page is Morgan Clothline twitter@MorganMbuvi insta Morgan mbuvi
CODESET: That's great, so what is your final word to the people out there?
MORGAN: Am calling out on the youth to try and  realise their talents and work on them.I really discourage idleness.I call myself THE COTTON DOCTOR all because when am down or something I get hold of 'Kitenge' pieces and do something cool...

There you have it. Simply put, THE COTTON DOCTOR.

I Met A Woman

7.30pm finds me waiting at Guardian Angel bus station in Kisii town. I am new in this town so I am fascinated by the buzz of this hidden town at this hour. It is like it was asleep and is now like the chirming birds of the morning. I walk around here and there, and I realize how beautiful the scenery is. To the far left, somewhere in the sky I can see the "Tuskys" mall sign hanging somewhere, I don't know where. Whoever came up with that logo deserves to sit at the table with the same geniuses who said the dollar ought to be so green. The green letters are not complete without the cream tusk on top. It represents the pride the founders of this family chain stores took in satisfying the customers' needs at an affordable price. Probably coined from the Nakumatt elephant prices, so why buy the elephant when the tusk is the only valuable thing there? That's my theory though. I stare at the glittering lights from a club near that supermarket and it draws my attention that probably in there I can catch myself a beer for company. Yeah, that would be good company especially when your girlfriend whom you came to see has just rushed back to campus for fear of the night. It may be dark wherever she has gone, but whatever is right here is completely different. This city is full of life. I had heard a lot about it but I never in any moment thought of a time the night would find me here till Liz joined the University here. At first I thought it was a bad thing that she came here since it's lots of miles away from Kirinyaga, but you see when you don't come from one of them rich families, whatever JAB gives you, you gotta accept it. It is like the judgment day when His almighty will line up folks of all races and declare how they did in their short miserable days. That is how I picture JAB as, since I passed through the same and of all the places they ever thought of being sent to, they chose Taita Taveta University. Like that wasn't enough, they denied me all the gifting that come with working hard to get a university calling letter. They denied me HELB loan. I never got a single penny of that "right of a comrade" as we called it, and that didn't go well with me. If you have ever been a victim of this you understand the whole process of becoming an orphan all over sudden just to get the right of a comrade. Then they deny you that money as if to tell you that, "Young man we know these tricks." But somehow that wasn't so bad for me since for some reason best known to all hustlers in God-Bless-Kenya, here I am taking my cold beer in some bar in Kisii, with my own money. Money earned from a career I never imagined I would ever find myself in, but out of lack of pocket money in campus, I bought a small camera that has seen me become one of the most sought after photographers in Kenya. I am from a gig in Kisumu for some celebrity who prefers to keep things underground, who had some dowry payment ceremony there. Then after the gig, I decide why not drop by and say hi to my little Liz. And that's how I end up in this bar.

I am staring at the crowd in the bar that is cheering on some team. As a photographer I have learned to stop time and just stare at the excitement of life. All of these men here have problems, lack of fees for their lovely kids, an unfaithful wife, some unpaid creditors, businesses going south. Yet they forget all that just to celebrate this moment. Makes me want to think, we are all headed to the storm each  of these people are going through. Some good, some bad. We don't know how but somehow we all get there.

I am not a football fan, so I stick to my glass at the counter. I am so glued into my thoughts that I don't notice the beautiful woman who comes by and immediately begins talking like we have known each other for years.

Her: So electric like an orgasm.
Me: What(baffled by this woman's erotic language)?
Her: You feel the best moment and you want it to last forever, but you know it will be over, and damn you are back to real life (just then one of the teams scores. I don't know which but the whole club goes wild. It is like she can read the future).
Me: (talking over the noises)I don't know you but whatever it is you are selling, lady it's good for philosophy.
Her: I'm not selling none, but I could if you said what you really want to buy?

She orders a drink from the waiter and she walks like a peacock to the VIP section. As she walks away I stare at her long dress that has a similarly long slit on the side. Her thigh gets exposed with each successful step she takes in her long heels. It is as if she has a masters in walking in those things, not like some ladies from the big city who walk in those things as if they have robbed a person of them. Her perfume is so inviting to resist that I find myself following her like a faithful cult member. As soon as we sit down, I realize that she isn't a lady in those long lion-like nails. Her's are natural, well trimmed and polished with some silver nail polish which seems to agree in color with her necklace. One look at her and I can guess that she is either a model or she is a make up artist.

Me: My name is...(she cuts me short with her finger on my lips)
Her: No names, no details, just enjoy the moment. I don't care whether you're a fugitive or whether I am, just let yourself off to the good side of humanity.
Me: About the fugitive thing, you're not a fugitive?
Her:(With a stern look on her face) What if I said I was, would it change a thing? (meeen, this woman is mysterious).
Me: It definitely would because what the heck would a law abiding citizen who even pays his taxes in advance have to do with a merciless terrorist? Crazy? But well, aren't terrorists allowed to have a good time? So, no, I wouldn't stand in the way of a fugitive trying to let go lest I see her wrath on me and all my kinsmen.
Her: (chuckles then continues) So let's say you could compromise with the fugitive, would you trust her to take you out for a tour around our town?
Me: Why would I want a tour in my hometown?
Fugitive: You are a bad liar?
Me: I hear some people say so.
Fugitive: Your accent betrays your origin.
Me: And what accent would that be?
Fugitive: The sound of money? (we both laugh at this as we leave the bar.)
Me: So you have figured me out yet I can't seem to grasp a thing about yours, but I'm pretty sure you are not from the matoke land, otherwise I would have had a thousand and one "ghaki's"(trying to sound like a Kisii) by now.
Fugitive: You must have been a terrible scholar, if at all you ever went to school.
Me: Why would that be?
Fugitive: You should have noticed the moment I asked for my beer that I speak the local dialect idiot.
Me: damn, why didn't I catch that? I'm an idiot indeed. An idiot following a woman who claims she could be a terrorist to God-knows-where. That is good for an idiot.
Fugitive: Just watch and learn you could graduate to one maybe.

8.10 pm, off National bank round about, we cross to the other side such that Havanna Club is right above us on the first floor. We are headed towards what I make to be Cooperative bank. Not really sure. We walk in silence, just admiring the free souls above us. Looks like Friday lets the dogs out on these people. We reach the parking lot and I realize it's KCB not Cooperative Bank. These two companies should stop bullying the entire race of males with this green color they can't seem to agree on who should have it. I can see the two colors are different but I just don't know how, they all look green to me. She disrupts my thoughts.

Fugitive: See the contrast of life?
Idiot: (thinking she has stolen my thoughts again about the colors) I would call it ego and pride. None of them wants to give up the green color to the other. What do you call that?
Fugitive: I  call that stupidity. I'm talking about them(pointing at some dark figures leaning against the wall of the building across. Curvy figures) One part of the city is going crazy with spending on the devils urine and other harmful substances, while the other part is out here on the cold to hustle.
Idiot: Oookay, now I get you. So you want to tell me that the K-street of Kisii opens this early and is fully loaded with varieties? This early?
Fugitive: Mmmh, let's say those beautiful creatures lined out there like they waiting for a firing squad have been standing out there for the last two hours.
Idiot: Judging from how fast the product is moving, they must be making a good amount out of it?
Fugitive: Nooot really. Let's say the prices of the product are as low as Unga ya 90bob such that even the last of the poorest souls can afford it. You want some(looking at me as if to read me)?
Idiot: What? No. No. No. I wouldn't be caught dead buying that. Why do people even buy when they know very well that probably they are the 6th or 10th client in the last 2hrs?
Fugitive: You acting like a saint now when you have a couple of beers in your blood stream?
Idiot: Not really but I think the good Lord should classify some offences as bigger offences than others.
Fugitive: Well, you are about to commit that higher offense.

And off she hurries across the road and lines herself among the beautiful lasses out there. Then she waves and waves as if to call me.

Fugitive:(shouting) Hey you. Hey idiot. Come buy one get one more free.

At this moment I am thinking, this woman is nuts. I look around and I can see two guys from different sides walking towards her direction. No. If anyone is going to buy whatever the hell she is advertising, then it will be me. I kind of feel like I know her. We can talk freely like some two adults. Without hiding a thing from each other. So you know that bond. So I join the race that is headed towards her, unfortunately I come second. Now she is talking to this guy in some brown leather jacket. He names a price, and she goes mad.

Fugitive: Hey ladies, can you believe this guy? 150bob for a shot.(Drawing the attention of the other ladies) Come on, am I going to take off my clothes and let you jerk of at the site of my pussy? Go use some lube sucker. (to me) Hey little man, come let's hear what you got.

Man feeling ashamed walks away and some two ladies follow him. I think they want to console him for his loss. Haha! Console.

Idiot: (feeling uncomfortable) What the hell are you doing?
Fugitive:(shouting) can you believe this idiot? He asking me what the hell I'm doing? Really? Really? I'm selling parking tickets. That's what I'm doing.
Idiot: (Turning to walk away) You are crazy as shit.

She runs before me and she kneels. And she is begging that I stay. At this moment I feel like I'm a white chicken. People around are staring at me like I'm some worm on their meal. She is now going for my belt. What the hell! I know this is headed the wrong way. I hold her by her arms and raise her in a bid to rescue my beloved "David" from being let out.

Idiot: Come on, this is not what you said... (she is tongue deep in my mouth)

Her lips taste garlic but tender. I get lost in the moment and we are now exchanging fluids like it is a pipeline. How she caresses my ear lobes sends shivers of excitement down my spine. Her tender hands seem to be doing such a great job at getting me to the mood as she combs through my long afro. It's at this moment you probably would shout at us, "Get a room". But man, this is way way bigger than a room. First off, I got no borner to this point yet it seems so sweet like we should continue doing this forever. I can feel the little gap in between her teeth. You maybe would think this is an imperfection but wait till you kiss a nice kisser with one of those. Like I am doing. She moves to my lower lip and she is neither biting nor is she letting go, as it slides back and forth, side to side, in a rhythmic manner as if it has taken ages to perfect this art.

Her moans are disrupted by the ringtone of my phone. Just like that, she cuts lose as I struggle to find my phone to answer. At this moment I am cursing whoever is calling me in my mind. Who the hell calls in the middle of a kiss? Who?

As I finally reach  for my phone the white light from the phone blinds me for a moment before I can read the new number calling. And I am cursing even before I pick the call.

Idiot: Calling from Orange? Really? This is all you can do? Right this magical moment?
Male voice: Ati nini?
Idiot: Unasema nini(at this moment I realize the fugitive is not anywhere in my sight)?
Male voice: Uko wapi gari inatoka?
Idiot:(humbly now) Oooh. Mimi huyu hapa Tusky's nakuja(trying to scan for my fugitive).
Male voice: Harakisha bwana. Dakika mbili ukue hapa. (hangs up)

At this moment the thought of my fugitive disappears and luckily I stop a passing boda boda. I can't even figure out where the bus station is from where I am. I ORDER the rider to break all the rules of motorcycle riding if he has to but get me to the bus station fastest possible. He does just that and as we speed off past Transline bus station, I see someone waving at me. It's her! I could order the rider to stop but no. Right now there are more pressing matters to attend to. I can see my photography equipment at the station getting locked down. And that isn't so good especially when I will be shooting NASA's rally at my village in Thumaita, Kirinyaga. And being a political rally, it must be paying real good. So I wave back. May be we will meet in Nairobi if she is traveling to Nairobi. Or tomorrow I will hear it on the news that a fugitive was arrested.
For now, I travel home.

I quickly tip the boda boda guy and I  pick my luggage and get into the awaiting shuttle. I had been allocated the seat near the door, so there ain't much hustle as I take my place.
Beside me is a gentleman, probably in his mid 30's, he can smell the beer I just took with the stranger.

Gentleman: Must have been a beautiful night?

I think for a while before answering him. Yeah. It was a really beautiful one. The life of this city is infectious. Exciting. Sensational. Beautiful. A beautiful fugitive. I met a woman.

Idiot: (with a smile) It is still a beautiful night.

And off the shuttle leaves to the city in the sun.

THE MUGUMO TREE HAS FALLEN

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The Other Woman

Sabina Joy, Room 16
Friday 30th June, 2017  2100hrs

Two humanly creatures seem busy. They are free spirits in this dimly lit room at the end of the corridor. Thin ammonia smell emanating from the handkerchief-thick blanket on the floor betrays the little cost they must have paid to secure this den. The ambient noise of orgasms from neighbouring rooms seems to do little to disrupt their 'business'. Proof enough that they are so intrigued in each other. They look inseparable. The woman is now sinking her lion-like nails into his chest occasionally. Whenever this happens, he seems to gain a new force and the louder the bed gets the more he seems to get clawed. One hand is combing through his long afro, while the other is busy doing its engraving on his chest. She is screaming every now and then, 'Yeah', 'Harder', 'Faster', 'Hit It'. Save for the location and the tone with which she says these words, these would serve her well enough at the Police Training base, Nairobi. And obediently her 'trainee' seems to adhere religiously to every order she shouts. He is almost passing out yet he is pressing on. I doubt he is working this hard on her just for his pleasure, no. Not by the look of pursuit for satisfaction he is looking for in her. He feels powerful, yet the one receiving the orders. He is moving it faster now. She doesn't know what the hell is happening inside her. The way she looks like, her long hair sweeping every corner of the pillow. Her mouth wide open, as if in surprise, as if almost getting what she has waited all this long to get. And damn, he ain't failing to do it. She begins turning her waist round and round. He knows she is almost there when she does this. He has to keep going even if he had a bullet to his head. This is it. Almost there. Hang in there. His bomb down there is about to explode but he has a way of delaying the timer. Weird? How do you even do that?
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" He has hit it and he is damn sure next thing will be rains. But he can't hold any longer. His bomb is at stake. 3,2,1 and BOOM! He explodes inside her.
Immediately, she pushes him over. And, "SSSH! SSSSH! SSSSH!" A clear liquid jets furiously off her. She is shaking terribly like a twig as the liquid continues, now getting smaller and smaller. She is now pulling the bedsheets as if to tear them apart. You would think she is having a seizure. Yet a good one.
He is just staring at her. Like a man who is satisfied at the excellent job he has done.
This goes on for about 10 seconds then she lies there blankly. Her body looks lifeless and harmless now. It's not the Constable gown on her now, it is the vulnerability jersey on her. All her power seems too useless at this moment when she has just had the best moment in a long time. She has been missing such a 'seizure'. She turns over to find a face staring at her. It is him. The master who knows how to make 'springs' out of her. Literally.

Woman: You know you have never told me how you do it? I've tried it with my husband but nothing. What's it you do?

Man: Same reason why you still pay your electric bills to KPLC, yet you know you can generate your own power through the God - given sun.

Woman: Don't knock yourself off.

Man: Why not? I earned it. Ever wondered why you are the only woman I know of who squarts?

Woman: The proverbial 1 out if every 20 maybe? The more reason you should leave her and be with me.

Man: What about your husband? Or do I need to remind you he is my boss? How would that paper read(making an imaginary newspaper flip), "WIFE'S DRIVER HIT-AND-RUNS HIS BOSS MARRIAGE". That would make hell of a paper, don't you think so?

Woman: No. You don't have to wake the sleeping dogs. We can just be what we are, but I need you for me alone(touching his overgrown beared). She isn't worth you.

Man: (Chuckles) Worth? I bet I'm the one not worthy of her. She now thinks I am working late. How does she even manage to be so naive? Who works late on a Friday? And a mere driver of all the people. I wouldn't believe a bit of that. Not even for the busy uber drivers.

Woman: A driver who is well paid, thanks to me. (As if to congratulate herself)You are welcome.

Man: Esther, you know it's not all about the money?

Esther: That's why I will do anything just to have you all to myself. But you always push me away.

Man: (Referring to himself in the third person) And what would that make of Eric? The man who left his wife of 3 years to be a side guy? (Ironically) Sounds like a fair deal madam Constable.

Esther: (Jumping out of bed and walking towards the window) I just have never learnt sharing. Especially the man who climaxes me...

Eric: Yet you would be glad to have him as a side guy and not him have you as a side chic? Huh, it's a new world. (Sighing as he tries to get his phone from between the sheets.)

Githurai 45                       2208hrs.
The venarcular show on the radio keeps him company. His thoughts are far off from the present, yet the Freshly Mwamburi song playing on the background of the radio presenter makes him think. Why is love so cruel?

"...Nilikua na mchumba wangu, tulipendana kama nyama choma,
Alibahatika kwenda ng'ambo, chuo kikuu kwenda kusoma, miaka mitatu kule Japani, kusomea udakitari, Stella wangu...(I had a lover, we loved each other like roast meat, she was lucky to go abroad for university studies, three years in Japan, to study medicine, my Stella..."

The presenter interjects here and then.
"... Witawa wendo, ni kindu ki muyo muno. Yaani endanite na mwendwa wake muno. Mendanite muthemba wa nyama sya uvivya... (it's called love, it's a very sweet thing. I mean, they loved each other very much. They loved each other like roast meat..."

This song has its way of speaking to Eric. Like the artist was writing the song about him yet in the person of Stella. Funny?
He is now driving past Eastmatt Supermarket when the song comes back on...

"... Nilivyompenda Stella jamani, kajitolea kwa nafsi moja, nikauza shamba langu, sababu yake yeye, nikauza ardhi yangu, sababu yake yeye, nikauza ng'ombe na mbuzi, sababu yake yeye, ili apate nauli ya ndege na pesa zingine za matumizi, huko Japani(The way I loved Stella, I sacrificed with one heart, I sold my farm, just because of her, I sold my land, just because of her, I sold my cows and goats, just because of her, so she can have money to travel by plane and have some more to spend in Japan)"

the presenter interrupts...
..."I tell you, wendo niutuma wika maundu maingi muno. Yaani we mwanaasa atee nginya utiiwa, nundu wa Stella. Eka uu mwanoo niwendete kelitu kaa. Mo aume aa ma muthemba uu komaelile naku. Kana nala andu meawa ni Wavinya yaliyo ndwele sipite(I tell you, love can make you do a lot. Look at this brother who sold even his inheritance, because of Stella. Indeed this guy loved this girl. Where did men of this type go to? Or is the type that Wavinya says let by gones be by gones?(chuckles)Hahaha..."

Just then his phone rings. A female voice is on the other side. He turns down the volume of the radio then picks up.

Eric: Yes my dear.
Female voice: Still working late?
Eric: I'm almost home. Is the daughter of my in-laws worried?
Female voice: Indeed yes. Otherwise who else would I be worried about love?
Eric: No worries, in less than five I will be there Jasca.
Jasca: (Silent for a while then...) You know how that makes me feel?
Eric: Yeah, I sure do. Among other things it calms you down. That's how I know you are hanging up satisfied. Haha.
Jasca: Clever bastard. Okay get home to me real fast then. (she hangs up).

He holds the phone on his ear for a while then drops in on the front passenger seat. He is not sure what he feels. He feels loved, but feels sorry that he is not faithful to the wife of his youth. He is dead sure that she is faithful and loving to him. She gave it all up for her. Not everyday you wake up next to a girl who gave up her father's wealth to buy him his dream car. Which he is driving now. He has had this car for the past two years. The exact number of years since his girlfriend moved in with him. The last thing she inherited from her father before he disowned her. And she gave it to him so he could hustle his way up using this car. And sure indeed, it has been a good 2 years, judging from the high profile personalities he has as clients. Drops 2 sons of a politician to school each morning, drops mails at the justice department, picks up a female police constable and drops her to work(Esther), then joins the rest of taxi drivers at KenCom for the busy hustle and buzzle of the city in the sun. That's a clientele good enough to pay all your dues each month.
He tries quitting his player habits, but he always finds a way back to that.
"Why do I always go back?"

He wakes up from his tour to his thoughts when he realizes that he is home. Will he be faithful? Will he face his wife with that unwaivering glance in his eyes? Really, you know who you love, but you don't know who loves you.
A drastic thought passes his mind. "Will I love my wife, or the other woman?"