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Destined To Meet
“Ah, Ndungu my friend! This is my beautiful, beautiful wife, Inamow! Honey, come meet the newest member of our empire!”
…
I swear she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t her hair, or her smile, or her perfect black skin. Come to think of it, I wasn’t really sure what it was that attracted me, but I couldn’t, not for one second, take my eyes off her.
“Yo! ‘dungo-o-o!”
“Yes I. I a trod”
It was Thursday afternoon, and as was customary, all classes ended at twelve, leaving the aesthetic university campus littered with enthusiastic young adults – playing ball, sharing gossip, eating junk, and of course, drinking liquor. The afternoon was great. The few scattered clouds and the pre-summertime sun together made for the perfect atmosphere for my bredrins and me to take a walk up to the Nagarutu Café. It was the only place on campus that sold local food.
“Weh ya seh Ms Lumumba?!”
That was Akil – I suppose you could call him my best friend. We spend so much time together at school; people often wonder how we get through the holidays being in two different hemispheres. The Internet is a wonderful thing. He even speaks patois now – crazy. For most of the time at school, it was he, Simba and I. Simba was Brazilian, Akil was from South Africa, and me – I was just a battered heart and soul prodding the Earth. She was just as battered and neglected as me; d*mn, they never pick up garbage in Bahamas on time.
“Man, what is that smell” the deep voice thundered, commanding attention as it always did.
“Simba, yuh nuh know man, garbage truck late as usual rasta! Tell yuh bout - “
“Hush your mouth!”
I wasn’t even allowed to finish before Ms Lumumba popped in. “…You leave my government alone eh!”
We all laughed - beautiful Thursday afternoons.
“I see you looking at a girl there this afternoon – you think she pretty or wha’?”
I tried craftily to concoct a story about staring at the new concrete benches they had put out, and just as my tale was about to cave in…
DING!
Customer! Ms Lumumba was a medium built Bahamian woman with a gift for dealing with youth. She had been divorced twice and was now a single mother of four children. She left the conversation with an oath of finishing up later. Akil and Simba eerily lost track of the conversation as well and decided to go play pool in the on campus sports lounge. I opted to stay on the outdoors and enjoy the scenery and keep Ms Lumumba’s company. Truth was I wanted an opportunity to find out the story behind this perfect embodiment of feminine features.
As soon as the guys left and the pneumatic door swung shut behind them, I spun around with great eagerness. I had already planned to move quickly before Ms Lumumba could return to follow up on our earlier conversation, but when I spun around – gone!
“Go read a book in the library nah!” uttered Ms Lumumba, the weakening of her voice with every syllable depicting clearly her former years and her wisdom. I looked at her and smiled.
The library was a strange place for me. I was in my final year, a conclusion and table of contents away from completing my final year project, and still I wasn’t aware that you were supposed to have a library card from the administrations office to enter.
“Ah – yes.. Miss.. I.. I.. I underst - ”
“No! No! No!” insisted the demon possessed security guard. Wasn’t sure if it was a he or she.
“It’s alright Meggie – you can let him in.” It was as if the heavens opened up as her silvery voice echoed across the room.
“See…Ms MAGGIE – it’s alright, you can let me in,” I boasted while popping my jacket collar.
I looked around to meet my saviour, and whoa, my eyes fell directly into her gaze. It was the girl from the benches I saw earlier. I wasn’t certain if I should be calling her a girl or a woman. She was obviously so young, but seemed so sophisticated; quite unlike any of the other girls I’ve seen on campus. It was like the prime minister’s wife working part-time in the university library.
“Heyy-looooo” she mockingly uttered while waving her palms across my face. “Is anybody in there?” We both laughed as I snapped out of my trance. “So is it a regular thing for you to impolitely stare at women and not say hello, then follow them into libraries and create a ruckus?”
Not sure why, but I was still lost for words. Just before it upset me to the point of yelling out a self-affirmation, her celestial voice rang once more –
“Next Wednesday at 7pm? I’ll pick you up here” she said with a smile.
I returned the smile and walked away. I had just landed a date with quite possibly the most beautiful girl on the campus, and I hadn’t said a word.
I had decided I wasn’t going to tell neither Akil nor Simba about my mystery date. It was the night before we were all due to leave for home – finally done enough time behind ‘these bars’. I swear a minute hadn’t passed and I didn’t think of her – no name, no number, just a perfect embodiment of female features.
Tonight I also decided no cell phone. I didn’t want a single moment of this experience to be disturbed by polyphonic tones. But right before I could hit the button to dim its light –
Tur-nur-nur-nur-nar… Tur-nur-nur-nur-nar…
“Ndungu! How are you my friend?!”
“Uhh-uhh, I’m doing alright Mr. Mugabe.” I replied in what I hoped was the most socially correct tone.
“Ah, great! Is everything online for tomorrow – confirmed your flight and so on… do you have a ride for the airport? I coul – ”
“Yes sir!” I abruptly responded, hoping I didn’t anger him. “Everything is arranged, it’s now only up to time” I boldly continued.
“Ha-ha! Ndungu, you’re just the man I want in my company, my friend! See you soon” he ended, laughing – or at least, trying to.
It was 6:54pm and I wasn’t about to let Mr. Mugabe bore me with another one of his lectures. I returned to finishing up my dressing – Alton Ellis playing in the background.
Girl I’ve got a date.. uh-huh…
I was at the library at 7:01pm – dammit! Right before I could even panic though, here comes my princess of peace, as she swung around the all black and tinted Euro R – she must’ve been a rally driver!
The night was as perfect as a black baby boy. We ate vegetarian food at a five star restaurant – Ritz something – before heading to a sports bar my goddess professes she frequently visits.
“Come on! It’ll be fun. I basically own the place.” She assured me.
Her voice had ceased to freeze my brain cells, but she sounded even better in ‘real time’. I wasn’t a fan of bars or clubs. Typically I spend my nights reading; when I’m not goofing about with Simba and Akil anyway. We spent a few hours in the bar. It was a nice, quiet and comfortable place, clearly upper class stuff. Not like any bar I’ve seen before, or of the kind that had made bars my long time nemesis. I had even forgotten about my 8am flight. She drank wine after wine. It was clear she had in fact been a frequent customer at the bar; in all that she still remained so innocent and perfect. I took another sip of my wine – must’ve been the second – and placed my half-filled wine glass next to the creative array of empty wine glasses she made.
“Sooooo. Ndungu – that’s a nice name. Tell me, a little, about yourself.”
We conversed for hours. It turns out she was a second year medical student from Florida, and she’d come here on some sort of exchange program. The way she spoke revealed intellect and intelligence to captivate the mind. I explained to her I was a final year student, and though my every masculine instinct egged me not to, I told her this was my last night in Bahamas. She never seemed moved or surprised by my telling her. She remained as before – like a goddess roaming the Earth, calm and in total control of her environment. We chilled at the bar for a few more minutes and left. She insisted on handling all the tabs, and with the figure I glimpsed on the bill – I would’ve been a joke with my three-digit wallet.
We got back into her ‘batmobile’. It was truly a nice car – and she shifted gears and rocked wheels like a pro. In about five minutes we were at someplace called High Grade Estates; a journey I’m sure would’ve taken the average joe twenty to twenty-five minutes.
“Are you coming in?”
I looked around and none of the cardinal points seemed even vaguely familiar. “Do I have a choice?” I responded in the purest sardonistic tone.
The place was a castle. She didn’t seem as interested in the furniture and silverware as I was, and we ripped each other’s clothes off while plodding clumsily up the carpeted stairs. I swore I heard Ben E King playing in the background, but the only sounds were intermittent slapping of wet skin and heavy breathing. The curtains blew as the moon shone perfectly into the bedroom, bringing fairytale magic into our experience.
BRRRRR!! BRRRRR!! BRRRRR!!
“Oh-oh-oh… Oh sh*t!” It was 7:30am – and she was gone. There was a note and the keys to the Honda.
I got to the airport in time for my flight, but I never got to see Akil and Simba – I know they must be angry. The flight was great; or I had a chance to get some good shut-eye anyway. I reached home in the late afternoon. No one was there; my Aunt had left the keys in the flowerpot right next to the front door as always. In Jamaica this is standard practice.
That same evening I had to meet Mr. Mugabe for a social gathering he was hosting at his house. He was celebrating the opening of his new Consultancy. A self-made millionaire, Mr. Mugabe commanded respect – be it through love or fear.
I got to his house at 6:40pm. As I stepped out of the taxi, there he was to greet me.
“Ah, Ndungu my friend! This is my beautiful – “
*Heavenly Sounds*
…
I swear she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t her hair, or her smile, or her perfect black skin. Come to think of it, I wasn’t really sure what it was that attracted me, but I couldn’t, not for one second, take my eyes off her.
“Yo! ‘dungo-o-o!”
“Yes I. I a trod”
It was Thursday afternoon, and as was customary, all classes ended at twelve, leaving the aesthetic university campus littered with enthusiastic young adults – playing ball, sharing gossip, eating junk, and of course, drinking liquor. The afternoon was great. The few scattered clouds and the pre-summertime sun together made for the perfect atmosphere for my bredrins and me to take a walk up to the Nagarutu Café. It was the only place on campus that sold local food.
“Weh ya seh Ms Lumumba?!”
That was Akil – I suppose you could call him my best friend. We spend so much time together at school; people often wonder how we get through the holidays being in two different hemispheres. The Internet is a wonderful thing. He even speaks patois now – crazy. For most of the time at school, it was he, Simba and I. Simba was Brazilian, Akil was from South Africa, and me – I was just a battered heart and soul prodding the Earth. She was just as battered and neglected as me; d*mn, they never pick up garbage in Bahamas on time.
“Man, what is that smell” the deep voice thundered, commanding attention as it always did.
“Simba, yuh nuh know man, garbage truck late as usual rasta! Tell yuh bout - “
“Hush your mouth!”
I wasn’t even allowed to finish before Ms Lumumba popped in. “…You leave my government alone eh!”
We all laughed - beautiful Thursday afternoons.
“I see you looking at a girl there this afternoon – you think she pretty or wha’?”
I tried craftily to concoct a story about staring at the new concrete benches they had put out, and just as my tale was about to cave in…
DING!
Customer! Ms Lumumba was a medium built Bahamian woman with a gift for dealing with youth. She had been divorced twice and was now a single mother of four children. She left the conversation with an oath of finishing up later. Akil and Simba eerily lost track of the conversation as well and decided to go play pool in the on campus sports lounge. I opted to stay on the outdoors and enjoy the scenery and keep Ms Lumumba’s company. Truth was I wanted an opportunity to find out the story behind this perfect embodiment of feminine features.
As soon as the guys left and the pneumatic door swung shut behind them, I spun around with great eagerness. I had already planned to move quickly before Ms Lumumba could return to follow up on our earlier conversation, but when I spun around – gone!
“Go read a book in the library nah!” uttered Ms Lumumba, the weakening of her voice with every syllable depicting clearly her former years and her wisdom. I looked at her and smiled.
The library was a strange place for me. I was in my final year, a conclusion and table of contents away from completing my final year project, and still I wasn’t aware that you were supposed to have a library card from the administrations office to enter.
“Ah – yes.. Miss.. I.. I.. I underst - ”
“No! No! No!” insisted the demon possessed security guard. Wasn’t sure if it was a he or she.
“It’s alright Meggie – you can let him in.” It was as if the heavens opened up as her silvery voice echoed across the room.
“See…Ms MAGGIE – it’s alright, you can let me in,” I boasted while popping my jacket collar.
I looked around to meet my saviour, and whoa, my eyes fell directly into her gaze. It was the girl from the benches I saw earlier. I wasn’t certain if I should be calling her a girl or a woman. She was obviously so young, but seemed so sophisticated; quite unlike any of the other girls I’ve seen on campus. It was like the prime minister’s wife working part-time in the university library.
“Heyy-looooo” she mockingly uttered while waving her palms across my face. “Is anybody in there?” We both laughed as I snapped out of my trance. “So is it a regular thing for you to impolitely stare at women and not say hello, then follow them into libraries and create a ruckus?”
Not sure why, but I was still lost for words. Just before it upset me to the point of yelling out a self-affirmation, her celestial voice rang once more –
“Next Wednesday at 7pm? I’ll pick you up here” she said with a smile.
I returned the smile and walked away. I had just landed a date with quite possibly the most beautiful girl on the campus, and I hadn’t said a word.
I had decided I wasn’t going to tell neither Akil nor Simba about my mystery date. It was the night before we were all due to leave for home – finally done enough time behind ‘these bars’. I swear a minute hadn’t passed and I didn’t think of her – no name, no number, just a perfect embodiment of female features.
Tonight I also decided no cell phone. I didn’t want a single moment of this experience to be disturbed by polyphonic tones. But right before I could hit the button to dim its light –
Tur-nur-nur-nur-nar… Tur-nur-nur-nur-nar…
“Ndungu! How are you my friend?!”
“Uhh-uhh, I’m doing alright Mr. Mugabe.” I replied in what I hoped was the most socially correct tone.
“Ah, great! Is everything online for tomorrow – confirmed your flight and so on… do you have a ride for the airport? I coul – ”
“Yes sir!” I abruptly responded, hoping I didn’t anger him. “Everything is arranged, it’s now only up to time” I boldly continued.
“Ha-ha! Ndungu, you’re just the man I want in my company, my friend! See you soon” he ended, laughing – or at least, trying to.
It was 6:54pm and I wasn’t about to let Mr. Mugabe bore me with another one of his lectures. I returned to finishing up my dressing – Alton Ellis playing in the background.
Girl I’ve got a date.. uh-huh…
I was at the library at 7:01pm – dammit! Right before I could even panic though, here comes my princess of peace, as she swung around the all black and tinted Euro R – she must’ve been a rally driver!
The night was as perfect as a black baby boy. We ate vegetarian food at a five star restaurant – Ritz something – before heading to a sports bar my goddess professes she frequently visits.
“Come on! It’ll be fun. I basically own the place.” She assured me.
Her voice had ceased to freeze my brain cells, but she sounded even better in ‘real time’. I wasn’t a fan of bars or clubs. Typically I spend my nights reading; when I’m not goofing about with Simba and Akil anyway. We spent a few hours in the bar. It was a nice, quiet and comfortable place, clearly upper class stuff. Not like any bar I’ve seen before, or of the kind that had made bars my long time nemesis. I had even forgotten about my 8am flight. She drank wine after wine. It was clear she had in fact been a frequent customer at the bar; in all that she still remained so innocent and perfect. I took another sip of my wine – must’ve been the second – and placed my half-filled wine glass next to the creative array of empty wine glasses she made.
“Sooooo. Ndungu – that’s a nice name. Tell me, a little, about yourself.”
We conversed for hours. It turns out she was a second year medical student from Florida, and she’d come here on some sort of exchange program. The way she spoke revealed intellect and intelligence to captivate the mind. I explained to her I was a final year student, and though my every masculine instinct egged me not to, I told her this was my last night in Bahamas. She never seemed moved or surprised by my telling her. She remained as before – like a goddess roaming the Earth, calm and in total control of her environment. We chilled at the bar for a few more minutes and left. She insisted on handling all the tabs, and with the figure I glimpsed on the bill – I would’ve been a joke with my three-digit wallet.
We got back into her ‘batmobile’. It was truly a nice car – and she shifted gears and rocked wheels like a pro. In about five minutes we were at someplace called High Grade Estates; a journey I’m sure would’ve taken the average joe twenty to twenty-five minutes.
“Are you coming in?”
I looked around and none of the cardinal points seemed even vaguely familiar. “Do I have a choice?” I responded in the purest sardonistic tone.
The place was a castle. She didn’t seem as interested in the furniture and silverware as I was, and we ripped each other’s clothes off while plodding clumsily up the carpeted stairs. I swore I heard Ben E King playing in the background, but the only sounds were intermittent slapping of wet skin and heavy breathing. The curtains blew as the moon shone perfectly into the bedroom, bringing fairytale magic into our experience.
BRRRRR!! BRRRRR!! BRRRRR!!
“Oh-oh-oh… Oh sh*t!” It was 7:30am – and she was gone. There was a note and the keys to the Honda.
I got to the airport in time for my flight, but I never got to see Akil and Simba – I know they must be angry. The flight was great; or I had a chance to get some good shut-eye anyway. I reached home in the late afternoon. No one was there; my Aunt had left the keys in the flowerpot right next to the front door as always. In Jamaica this is standard practice.
That same evening I had to meet Mr. Mugabe for a social gathering he was hosting at his house. He was celebrating the opening of his new Consultancy. A self-made millionaire, Mr. Mugabe commanded respect – be it through love or fear.
I got to his house at 6:40pm. As I stepped out of the taxi, there he was to greet me.
“Ah, Ndungu my friend! This is my beautiful – “
*Heavenly Sounds*
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969 |
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