Time has never moved slower than when you’re waiting for your kikalayi order to arrive. That moment when you go to your kikalayi crib and order for the usual. You know how long it usually takes but you still go ahead and ask Bosco how long you should wait.

“30 minutes boss.” He lies.

But you give it an 45, and the countdown starts. 

I think I should order a beer as I wait, you think. But experience has taught you that an hour at the venue feels like 2. So you decide to squeeze in barber plot so you’ll be back just in time to eat. 

45 minutes later you’re back at the joint, hopping to find your order read, but Bosco gives you bulango. 

“Just five more minutes boss.” He lies, again. 

You decide to order for the beer in the meantime because the enzyme have started digesting your stomach walls. But it’s not the same thing. You want to eat pork, it’s the reason you came here. 

The five minutes are up but nada. You start to lose your patience, but you don’t want to lose your civility along. So you whip out your phone and hope Facebook will offer a good distraction. 

But you can’t even concentrate on Facebook because your head keeps turning 360 degrees, following every girl in a checkered uniform carrying a covered aluminum platter with protruding metallic skewers, in one hand, and a plastic zebra stripped kettle in another. 

“Finally, they’ve remembered me.” You sigh in relief as you fold your sleeves to wash your hands, only for the girl to wiggle her behind past you to the couple behind you enjoying a PDA moment. 

“But those guys found me here.” Civility flees through the window.

“Bosco I’ve been waiting for two hours but they’re serving people who came after me.” You attack him.

“Ssebo that man called me before he came and made his order. I don’t know why you never do that. But your sticks are ready, they’re just warming.”

“So how much longer?”

“Like two minutes, they’re just finishing your kaccumbari.”

You walk back to your table and order a second beer, hungry, angry and wishing you’d called ahead. 

Then finally, you raise your crestfallen face from your phone and see this woman waking towards you with your platter and you swear it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever beheld. Suddenly you feel life, hope and your energy is restored. Absolutely pork-matized.


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