FOOD THIEVES

Posted: July 31, 2014 by ketihapa in Crime, Food
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Don’t let the baby in them fool you.. Food thieves, or rather food bandits, we see you

I was on the internet the other day (don’t ask Googling what) when I came across this sex position called the Lap. I know what you’re thinking… It isn’t a sex position invented by the Kalenjins. But I did come across a sex position for you Luhyas out there tho called the Spoon, feel free to check it out. As for the Lap, apparently the lady sits on your lap and you hump away. It is – not my words- best carried out on a couch. I would suggest, if you’re going to try it, to do it with a laptop size lass, you know, the ones that won’t break your legs and couch in the process. And it isn’t anything I have against fat women, most of them are really amazing people, but they’re also full of themselves..

Anyway, some days back somebody tweeted about how he’d been robbed. Well, it was a pretty lame story, until he mentioned what he’d been robbed and the entire twitter community in Kenya was suddenly interested; the guy was robbed of his phone. And Chapatis he’d purchased for supper. Your guess is as good as mine. Either he’d carried the chapatis in his wallet- which is highly unlikely- or I want whatever weed those guys were on because that is a new level of munchies.

But the thing is, his story relates to mine, which I remember blogging about some years back. To refresh your memory, I’d bought myself half a kilo of beef- it’s something I often do when I want to congratulate myself- along with all the ingredients I needed for the meal from mama mboga downstairs; nyanya, vitunguu, dhania, hoho, pilipili… I’d even marinated the meat in garlic and ginger. Next, I made sure there was enough maize flour, nothing goes better with beef than ugali. Satisfied everything was in order, I set out to get beer. Sadly, as we all very well know, one for the road usually turns out to be six for the night in a ditch. I over stayed out, mixing Vodka and water like a Russian  like I wanted to re-incarnate the Holy Spirit. That day I was like a bee… I went to the pub and came back buzzing.

I came back to find my door open, the padlock missing and the lights on. Which at first didn’t occur to me as very odd considering I could barely stand on my feet leave alone string a few sentences together in my slurred speech, plus there was still a half bottle of beer in my hand. But then on entering the house something else struck me as out of place. There were dirty dishes on the table, which is very odd because I am usually a very tidy person (Bae has accused me of having mild OCD because when I start cleaning I don’t stop till everything is sparkling.) I somehow managed to ignore the dishes because at this point all I wanted to do was to jump into bed. It was the aroma of food that really shocked me because I honestly could not remember cooking. I assumed it was the neighbors that were cooking because it was not uncommon for them to cook at odd hours of the night.

Till I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

There was food alright, beef and ugali and more dirty dishes. At this point I was wondering just how high I was or if I’d had a concussion. But then, I realized my gas was missing, at which point I was suddenly very sober; Mututho would have been proud. Now fully alert, I proceeded to do a quick stock check. Everything was in place in the kitchen except the gas canister, in the living room everything was in place except my pair of leather shoes and my subwoofer (thankfully I’d left the laptop at a friend’s who wanted to copy stuff) and in the bedroom, my ironbox and my deo were missing, along with a few notes I’d left on the table and my red scarf.

I did what any normal man would do. I went back to the kitchen, served myself whatever was left of my beef, cut a chunk of ugali and sat down on the kitchen floor to eat. When I was full, I picked my bottle of beer and drank. I knew Alcohol was not the answer or solution, but I was fully aware it would make me forget the question- in this case, wtf had happened. When I was done with my alcohol I gracefully went back to bed and dozed off. I will not bother narrating to you the confusion I had in the morning when, not remembering my gas was missing, I bought eggs to make breakfast.

Perhaps I’ll never know wtf exactly happened that night, but I do know this, I hate food thieves. Bruh, stealing is okay, just don’t steal people’s food, it isn’t cool at all however or wherever you look at it, even in a freezer; in my book that makes you a terrorist. I think I was more upset about my food than all the other items. But hey, at least I wasn’t robbed at dick point like one Wateba, plus it was beef not pork because I’d literally have broken down in tears. Which makes me question how people survive in places like Githurai and Dandora, because, as I’ve said before, I imagine I’d feel like Alibaba knowing that I’m surrounded by 40 thieves all around me.

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