There is this Pandora’s box that has been lying beneath my laptop’s stand at work. You see, my laptop stand is elevated at the back and slanted at the front. Actually, I wouldn’t call it a laptop stand. It is a piece of crappy plastic that I stole from someone. Never steal things. I have preached.
My workmate schooled in the prestigious Ivy League. Dear reader that schooled in some funny primary school, Google what Ivy League means? There was this box on his desk with a flag for those white people, I don’t know the country and also don’t want to insinuate that I schooled in Oloitokitok Boys High School.
Haya Baas! I asked him, can I have this box and put it underneath my laptop stand? He said, “Sure!” You know I am used to Kikuyus rike Wahome John who would say, “Kutire na thiina!” But they would first assess why you want the box, when you want the box, how long you will stay with he box, they would affirm to you the condition in which they gave you the box, the area in square cm and lots of crappy details, for a damn box.
You see, as an African, when someone just tells you, ‘sure’. You have to think twice, you have to retract your asking, you have to rethink and ask yourself, “Why are they giving me this thing too fast? Does it have juju? Do they want to steal my destiny? Do they want to do the Olympic Closing ceremony on me? Blood of Jesus (insert Nigerian accent).”
It is sad that as an African you were used to getting things through fire and brimstone, but is it my fault? Read on.
So the damn box stays beneath my laptop stand for about 9 months now. Simply put… Ama wacha niwache tu. I have remembered that I am a child of God. So yesterday, I wanted to elevate my laptop higher; I always elevate 
.
Women are a special breed, they are intricate, curious and would want details in almost everything. As a young boy in primary school, I saw them being taught how to wipe their chairs before they sat, how to sit, how to put their thighs together and generally how to ‘act like a woman’.
On the other hand, we, the scumbags of the village, the brown armies of Maasai community would be so engrossed in child play that we would rush to pee beside the fence as we monitored the corrupt rachets that would steal our points. We would in turn pee on our torn and semi patched shorts and sometimes camouflaged chameleons will lick our wee wees without knowing only for us to ask ourselves, why is it itchy?
So today this damsel, this beautiful queen of the north from 9th floor, comes and inspects my desk. Nobody really would know that there was a box underneath the laptop stand. She took the box and asked, “What is this?” And she opened the box…
And the jini came out and asked, “Behold, I give you three wishes…” Hey! Come back to life. Zima hiyo kitu!
In the box were napping tea leaves from the lush tea farms in Kericho, well tucked in spirals of twisted love cuddling each other with ‘other spices’ as they said in the manual. You know you are rich when you have tea leaves (majani) with an instruction manual.
Some of us wonder if we were we given birth to or were hatched and left to fend for ourselves. Some of us grew with No. 7 tea leaves. I heard rumors that No. 7 were the remains they picked from the factory floor. It looked like dark soil, darker than my Luo friend whom I cannot mention because they would not buy me lunch tomorrow.
Anywhu, si I take the package home, si I cook it, si I stir, si it was written Stir Me? The leaves looked like Donald Trump’s hair. Okay, forget the ear. What else would a man want? You guy my guy the aroma that came from the tea, the taste… It was sweeter than… Wait… I have remembered again that I am a child of God.
Now I know why I need a woman in my life; to simply help me look beneath my laptop stand. If you know where I can get more of this tea leaves tell me. This package will be sleeping in my bedroom. In fact, it will be sleeping next to a hot water bottle. I don’t want it to feel cold. It will only be for me and I will mice it until I find more. No visitor is even special enough for this sweetness
