Why Sunday is for ‘Kutoa lock’

By Nairobian, Thursday, September 4th 2014 

Kang’ethe, like most Nairobians without a drinking problem has issues that are mostly occasioned by his God-fearing, resident Nagger-in-Chief. See, ‘the old metal’ ambles home drunk when the shock absorbers (which he calls shokomshoba) of his fifth-hand, 110 something rust bucket of a jalopy have packed. Kang’ethe does very well, side-stepping mitaros and skirting dark alleys where rough neck massages are executed. But the mother of his brats, who are potential sources of laptops from the ‘garment’ of kusema na ku-tender, hardly ululates for Kang’ethe peacefully arriving home in one piece in an ungodly hour on Saturdays. She mouths that Kang’ethe’s breath, aggravated by what smells like Nyota cigarettes, could induce imminent miscarriage.
Kang’ethe, who often wonders where the First Lady buys her underwear, is thus unceremoniously condemned to the long sofa. Since he hasn’t met her folks in Gikororo on your way to Karatina even after exceeding the ‘garment’s’ Two-Child Policy, Kang’ethe has little choice but to drunkenly obey and maintain domestic ceasefire. Come Sunday and Kang’ethe employs the excuse of going to buy the weekend papers and reports with them to the local. Kang’ethe complains that his neck feels like one almost severed with a nine-by-nine stone. All thanks to sleeping awkwardly in the long sofa from where he knocked the forehead with a thud to the floor a dozen times before sunrise. Kang’ethe is at Wa-Hannah’s before tutha-tutha time to ‘toa lock’ while avoiding the Nagger-in-Chief. And he’s not alone. The local is an amusing kaleidoscope of how Nairobians cope with their drinking foibles most Sundays, when they should be shaming the devil. But sometimes the daily drinking officers: Kang’ethe, Diameter the political analyst, Owish, Papa English and Kot-Kot hardly differentiates between ku-kesha at Wa-Hannah’s...and kesha at the Bare Chest of Christ Tabernacle where Pastor Odupoy foams at the mouth, trying to win souls.
That is where the in-house Nagger wants these tulevis to renew the family’s weekly acquaintance with Sir God. But most drunks take it that beer was invented to prove God loves, and wants them to be happy. The only person who escapes the tyranny of Sunday is Waka-Knife, our lifetime butcher. The man who wonders why “hakuna mtu ata niroga ni tajirike!” consigned his long-suffering wife to a rustic life in Kanyenya-ini village where her sole source of income is the ‘milk cutting’ Nguno the cow. Waka-Knife, apparently avoids attending church since greatly embarrassing himself. “I doubt God forgave me kwa kushuta katikati ya maombi,!” moans Waka-Knife, his voice sounding like dry leaves being scattered in the wind.
Read more at: http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/entertainment/thenairobian/article/2000133848/why-sunday-is-for-kutoa-lock?pageNo=2