This rainy weather


This rainy weather is breaking boundaries between boda boda guy and customer, drawing us closer like no other season has, making our trips brief, intimate encounters. On a winding, muddy and slippery route, for instance, as his machine skids this way and glides that way, I find myself wrapping my legs around his waist and clasping my hands across his chest for support – holding him even tighter whenever he hits a spot – while the back of his navy-blue, nylon jacket cushions my face and drowns my grunts. Whenever we are coming across a deep, wide puddle of unclean water, my tower of strength alerts me, “Haya, shikilia!” And as the motorbike sways this way and lurches that way, I glue my body onto his, entirely trusting that he will ferry me across that chocolate lake like he would his mother’s ashes, but at the same time, panicking and yelling that if he drops me…!

And after reaching my destination in one piece, depending on how good or bad the ride was, we might exchange numbers for another rainy day.

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