When you live a forced life

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If you are a guy who has a friend in this my plot, and you borrowed his house so that you could lie that it was yours when you’d take your new girlfriend there for some indoor fun, I think you should know that your girlfriend came to visit you. Of course, she knows that your friend’s house is yours because you took her there and lied to her that it is yours.

She knocked. Another woman opened the door. She was wearing a spaghetti top and a man’s boxers.

She is your friend’s girlfriend.

Your girlfriend looked at her suspiciously (especially the pair of boxers she was wearing) and demanded to know who she was. Your friend’s girlfriend felt that the question was suspect, coming from a female stranger who showed up at the door of her boyfriend’s house, and so she asked your girlfriend who SHE was. Your girlfriend then felt that your friend’s girlfriend answering her question with a question was rude and disrespectful, so, to be clear, she asked her what the hell she was doing in her boyfriend’s house. Your friend’s girlfriend, astonished and feeling thoroughly affronted, told your girlfriend to take her prostitution to Lamu Road. Your girlfriend told her that she was the prostitute. And so a violent fight ensued.

Your friend’s girlfriend thought that your girlfriend was her boyfriend’s secret lover, while your girlfriend thought that your friend’s girlfriend was your secret lover.

Weaves were pulled. Tops were torn. Screams and shrieks were released. Insults were exchanged. Threats were sworn. Bra straps snapped. Sandals flew. Fists did the talking. Kicks reigned. Bodies rolled on each other on the wet veranda, under the rain. Spectators secretly peeped from their windows and ajar doors, quietly cheering for their favourite fighter.

black-women-fighting

They were separated by Pastor, a middle-aged, well-built, dark-skinned man (and neighbour) who likes wearing suede, sharp-pointed shoes and long coats with round collars. He impregnated Mwende, probably a member of the praise and worship team or an usher in his church. When his wife confronted him about it, he had refused it in the name of Jesus.

“Who is Mwende?” he even wondered, incredibly perturbed and confused.

Mwende was summoned to the hearing then. Pastor’s wife, the junior pastor, and Pastor’s elder brother, who was a respected Reverend, were present. They had gathered at Pastor’s house. Mwende arrived with her 7-month-old pregnancy leading the way. Pastor swore that he had never seen her before. Mwende told the courtroom that they had been having an affair since last year. Pastor refused it in the name of Jesus. He declared that his enemies were working overtime to finish him and to frustrate his ministry. He called an emergency crisis prayer meeting to fight the work of his enemies. Mwende was asked to go home and change her ways. She was advised against letting herself be used as a vessel by the enemy.

Then Mwende gave birth and the baby looked exactly like Pastor.

I’m not sure who between the two women lost a tooth, but a tooth was definitely lost. Your girlfriend left, drenched in rain and still screaming obscenities at your friend’s girlfriend. Your friend’s girlfriend dared her to fight again. Your girlfriend felt that it wasn’t worth losing another tooth for, so she didn’t take up the challenge.

Please call your friend and tell him that things are thick. His girlfriend will accuse him of cheating. And your girlfriend will also accuse you of cheating. Start preparing a presentation that will include charts, graphs and a short film or documentary explaining what another woman was doing in ‘your house’ wearing ‘your underwear’.

This misunderstanding would have been avoided if you had just taken her to your house.

But you forced life. Now see.

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