Ladies and gentlemen, there is cause for concern. This time though, it’s not Kenyan women. Well, not 100%. See, it seems everybody’s hormones are fired up and raging, for no apparent reason.
Let me explain.
A good looking Kenyan, such as myself, was parking his car at Nairobi University’s Main Campus once upon a Wednesday afternoon. Oh yes, that car again. I was smelling as good as I usually do on Wednesdays, as I stepped out onto the campus. My mind was far away and my body was on autopilot. I was on a mission. “Walk to the office, get the document, back to the car, go home.”
Before I got 10 meters from the vehicle in question, a slender, gently scented hand placed itself on my chest and slowly slid up to my shoulder. I would’ve raised my eyebrow in alarm were I not already fully aware of how sexy I looked.
So instead I began to assess my assailant. Some under-clad twenteen year old girl stood before me smiling. I can’t lie, I can remember her chesticles better than her face. But to be fair, she had geography for breasts: Rift Valley as cleavage and Mt. Kilimanjaro on either side. And she seemed intent on making sure I got a good view as she shoved them in my stomach region. See, I’m about 6ft tall, and she was 5’3, maybe. Looking down, I felt like I could set my laptop atop that dashboard and begin surfing the web while having a discussion with her.
Eventually, after she was certain I had noticed all the goods she had in front of me, she asked “Where are you going?” Continue reading