FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME: (PART ONE).

...OF ANXIETY AND FUN GONE AWRY: 

That we Loved badminton isn’t a lie. The love for the game had blossomed inside our bone marrows even before we learnt integers and number line. In other words, we envied the way that the badminton seniors smashed that yellowish cork. (I’m using the word “Cork” because if I write “cock” the females reading this will think otherwise <Wink>). Well then we were just some scared, virgin, village boys.

Before we bade goodbye to the first term, we had already mastered some of the few rules applicable in the game. Second term rolled in quickly and we, or at least me, was training hard and proper in readiness for the ‘Zonals’ games slated for later that term.

The d-day came quite fast and my fellow Form one by the name Akuro David were overwhelmed with some childlike joy as we boarded that pick-up looking forward to meeting those other guys out other. Ebenezer is in a forest somewhere, remember?

But let’s pause here a bit. The reason why we were so quick to jump into Kiptim’s carrier wasn’t entirely because we were ready to show dust to any of probable opponents at Ossen. Hell No!

Let me tell you the truth that I know and can swear nobody else would be proud to admit. The fact is that we just wanted to enjoy the free ride. Yaani, apart from being so broke, homesickness was shining bright on our faces and ‘villageness’ was all over us. Wait. Do you guys know the pleasure, fun and joy that come about as you board an automobile and you’re sure that nobody will stretch a hand demanding for fare? Let me put it simple.

Have you ever seen the sharp change of a villager’s character when a long-lost friend offers him a free lift to ‘town’? if you want to know what I am talking about, hire a car and visit your class eight village sweetheart, who I’m sure is now married to a Chang’aa distiller, twice her age and with four kids and a fifth one on the way!

Well, pass by the ‘Centre’ and get into that one and only hotel (called ‘makawani’) where the menu has five items: Chai, Ndazi, Chapati, Ugali Plain, Ugali Sukuma. There you will find the idle old men gossiping and discussing seasoned politics. Be a wise man and order team “a round” lest they spit on the ground and curse you and your future descendants.

Crack for them a joke or two and promise to give at least one of them, if not all, a lift to town. My friend, believe you me, that’s when you will agree with Darwin that apes are cousins of humans. You will not only doubt but also dismiss the dentists’ research that humans have only 32 teeth. You will see 46!

Of course, the respected one of them all will see himself worthy of the front seat near you, the boss. Noteworthy is that the one who will sit beside you will have the biggest belly of them all. It’s natural. We’re Africans and Africans respect other humans with pot-like bellies. Don’t ask me how or why. It’s in our genes.

Even before you start the car, you will see the pot-bellied nigga beside you roll down the window, place his left-hand elbow on the window and spread his feet in an attempt to seek boss-like comfort. More important to note, is that you will see the man pull out a toothpick (usually a utilized matchstick) and silently start picking his teeth as he waits for you to take him to town. You get the picture, don’t you? Now that was the feeling we had with my good friend David as we anxiously waited for Kiptim to ferry our tiny black asses to Ossen.

Well, in what seemed a 2 minute drive, we landed at Ossen and we grudgingly had to step out. But worse was yet to come our way. We didn’t know that among the other two fellow sseated in front with the driver was one Mr. Stark Rotich. The minute I saw this man’s face, and our eyes met, I knew that we were Fucked Up because our two names were not on the list of those who were supposed to be there…And Indeed we were fucked up big time!

P.S:

Part Two of this Will be Published Next Week.