
Luckily, I haven’t been a victim of such an act. I’m not saying my wife has absolutely never done anything of the sort. I’ve never caught her. That all I’m saying. Does this mean I don’t trust her? Absolutely not. I trust my wife to a fault, but she has a knack for reminding me just how lucky I am to have her.
That’s why it worries me that one of the men who’d go to the moon and back just to go on a date with her has pledged to get her out of Shimo La Tewa prison, where she’s being held illegally.
“I’ll get Sophia out,” Detective Gundua assured me, “but don’t expect her home for at least a week.”
A week after this promise, Sophia is yet to come home. I can only hope she didn’t go along with Gundua’s plans, but I don’t think I’d blame her too much if she did. After all, if he did get her released, he’ll have accomplished something I haven’t been able to for almost two months. I mean, in the end, Shrek got the princess, didn’t he?
Since Gundua won’t return my calls, I’ve decided to travel to the city to find out what’s going on. But first, I have to deal with an invasion of sloths in Jiji Ndogo. In case you’re new to nature shows, a sloth is a “cute” animal that lives high up on trees. It’s also famous for moving extremely slowly so that it looks like it spends its day hugging trees.
Now that we’re all caught up on the latest episode of “Useless Facts I Never Wished To Learn”, can someone tell me why the hell so many of Jiji Ndogo denizens have suddenly decided to become human sloths?
“It’s for TikTok,” Kevo tells me, showing me his phone. It’s trained on a girl who has tied herself to a tree. “Yule msupa ni Shiko. Amekuwa at it for a whole day now but anadai ku-break record ya Truphena.”
“Who’s Truphena and what record?” I ask.
Kevo, a young man who’s visited our police post on more occasions than a Catholic priest has conducted mass, looks at me as if I’m an alien that just landed in a spaceship.
“Dude,” he cries, “usiniambie hujui Truphena Muthoni. Alifanya hii challenge for 72 hours last year.”
“She hugged a tree for three days?”
“Imagine followers Shiko atapata aki-break hiyo record.”
“You’re not serious. All this for followers on Tic Tac?”
“TikTok, buda. Acha kujifanya maze hivo, bana. Siku hizi followers ni kila kitu. Uko na wangapi?”
“Eight hundred.”
He seems to like this number. “Si mbaya. Hao ni platforms zote ama?”
“That’s the population of Jiji Ndogo.” I point towards the various young people hugging trees for likes. “If any of you get sick or die doing this, don’t come to me for help. I have other fish to fry.”
Kevo laughs and points the phone at me. “Oh, yeah. Niliskia msupa wako amenyakuliwa na fisi karao. Mbona? Ako na ndeng’a kubwa kukuliko ama?”
I don’t know what Kevo means but I feel like I just got insulted. One more reason to leave all this for a while.
Comments 0
Sign in to join the conversation
Sign In Create AccountNo comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts!