Shit Happens

It started with the lights being on and escalated into a mini argument. Wait, let me rephrase that. I felt like brewing a strong concoction of trouble, am not a trouble maker just to make I clear but if you count the number of times I piss off my siblings then yes, am a trouble maker, a good one at that. Trying to compare my trouble making skills with any of them is like trying to compare the sexual appeal of Liam Hemsworth and Mr. Bean, insane, right? Drama had not followed me for a while and I was getting really bored with all that peace business – pun highly intended.

It was getting rather late, knock out time to be precise, so it went without saying that my malicious rendezvous ghad to be postponed to the next day. Feeling disappointed, I dragged my tired and lazy bones to the bedroom. My night vision has never been in tip top condition, so it was only natural and logical that I switch on the lights, do my business and tuck in for the much needed rest.

“Hurry up with the lights, will you? We were deep in slumber land before you decided to rudely disrupt our little haven.” She said with a rather irritated and commanding voice.

Then, voilà! A brilliant idea sprang up in my head. Why don’t I just annoy them with the lights? – this people hated lights in a nocturnal kind of way, so yes that was such a genius idea. Ooh, by them I mean my elder sister and nephew. We shared a bedroom and they had left for bed earlier than me. I’m always the last to sleep, this explains a lot considering I was born in the dead of the night.

I took my time to change into my jammies that consisted of an old T-shirt and sweat pants, nothing fancy. I then proceeded to annoyingly put one two three things in place making sure I spent the most time while at it. The baby had been sleeping for a while and my switching on the lights and the movement in the room had made him a bit restless. He started wriggling around and let out a few wimpy cries but that did not bother me, it in fact gave me the adrenaline rush I so badly desired. All along, I could feel her piercing eyes throwing daggers behind my back. That thought in itself gave my efforts a thumbs up. *insert an evil laugh*. I was in for annoyance and I had just fulfilled my heart wrenching desire. She looked at me with disgust, sighed and went back to sleep. One man down! I repeat, one man down. I gave myself a pat on the back, plopped in my bed triumphantly and went to sleep. Mission accomplished.

Soon, it was morning. The mood was pensive and a little bit stale despite the cool breeze from Mount Elgon and the rhythmic and melodic chirping of the early birds. She had woken up earlier and gone about her duties silently which was so unlike her. I watched her from the corners of my eyes and noticed she was avoiding contact with me. She was avoiding any form of verbal or physical contact. In an attempt to make a peace offering, I brushed shoulders with her once or twice on the corridor as we went about our chores and only earned death stares as a result so I gave up.

I went about my chores and in a bid to make myself appear extremely busy and useful, I settled on thorough cleaning. the number one go to place had to be our bedroom. The place was in bad shape and I assured myself that it would look like something out of a home makeover magazine once done to my preferred satisfaction. That was enough peace offering to last me a year, so I thought. Sweep, sweep, sweep the broom went as I sneezed in response to the rising dust that had since accumulated from I don’t know when. At least I was a peace doing something with all my heart, something that seldom happens. There were tons of things under those beds; shoes, clothes, combs, money name them. The place was much roomier than I thought. The innocent and harmless me pushed everything under the beds for sorting and organizing and maybe cleaning later on. I went about my work with a million songs in my head. The humming and coughing were so synchronized that I wished I was in some high end studio producing my ‘hit’ single. Then she walked in.

Her eyes spoke volumes of frustration and her hands clenched into a fist in a bid to hold her anger down and behave like the mature one. Her new shoes and some of her clothes were peacefully lying in the dusty crump that was beautifying the center of the room. The look on my face must have been neither comical and carefree or she was just being plain dramatic and paranoid. Either way, she snapped, got overwhelmed with emotions and burst out into a frenzy of words that consisted mostly of insults. I tried to raise my voice to match hers but I was just an exercise in futility. The only thing I could comfortably do was cry. I wanted to hold them down but the just couldn’t be controlled beyond their backs, so I let them flow. You may be wondering where my annoying skills had gone to, but I guess everyone has a soft spot and that was mine. I’m not much of a talker,  more action oriented *wink*. Like that saying “actions speak louder than words” yeah, I’m cool just like that.

There was so much I wanted to say to her but couldn’t get through. She was good with words I tell you. Despite all that, I was relieved that she did not attempt to hit my gorgeous body with the weapons at her disposal (read shoes, broom and clothes). I don’t think I would have lived with that embarrassment.

The owner of the house, the one and only Masakha Trenk, son of Terrence ‘Trenk’ Mukinginyi got wind of the ongoing activities in his house. I had never seen him filled with rage my entire life. Talk of pleasant painful surprises. He came panting like a wounded lion and the mother of all wars took place. Calling it world war three is an understatement punishable by law. Kiboko kilitembea wacha tu

#WCW