The stalker, the most beautiful woman and the fool

I have been stalking her for more than a year. I turn up for a house party she is likey to attend but she gives it a wide berth…The stalking goes on
Sheila. That is the name of arguably the most beautiful thing in the University of Nairobi. She is sassy and sexy. Bold and beautiful. Elegant and classy. She is alive.
Her body is some perfect piece of artistry that is rare to come by. Her feet are so ripe that the only thing that you need is ketchup and you are good to go. She simply turns on the cannibal in me. If she is conscious about her beauty, then it ought to be modestly so. She dresses neatly. Always in formal fitting pants or short skirts with the hemline slightly above the knee revealing thighs that seem to be inflammable near fire. She is slightly tall, no more than 5’8.
When you see a woman of her caliber several things cross your mind. If a pervert, you will eye undress her, eye-f*** her and many other endless things that are possible with such bodies. If you are a gentleman, you see a girlfriend to keep. If a player, one of those women that must go to your list, never necessarily to keep. If an average guy, you acknowledge that some things were meant to be seen, never to be touched….
Sheila is everything I need in a woman and more. She is girlfriend, wife, partner, companion, and lover, freak all rolled into one. Many have accused her of shyness or attitude but anyone with such kind of beauty can be allowed to behave whichever way she wants. She is above the law…at lets if I was dating her, I can live by her rules.
So who is Sheila? I have the keenest eye for beauty. This has always been validated by my ability to instantly noticing of any beautiful one in any gathering long before my friends agree amid moving in for the kill.
I met Sheila under inexplicable circumstances about a year ago. We was surfing with my homie Plato down at KC (Kenya Cinema for the slow ones). Then the building began to shake. Like there was an earthquake brewing. Like there was some thunder works totally unanticipated. There was collective uneasiness in the whole building. People were shaking their heads from left to right and I knew right there that something was cooking.
Turns out that the most beautiful woman in Nairobi was in the house. I should have figured that one out. She was staring into her PC keenly like she was editing a her CV. I could offer her job, instantly. Hers was a beauty that inapproachable. Some women are just too beautiful and reservfed to walk up into them and throw an hackney line and expect better treatment.
We stared at her with everything on our faces…ears, nose, mouth and eyes. She seemed more preocuupied with whatever she was doing than the penetrating gaping and gawking going on. I stopped browsing and asked Plato…
“Wud up daddy, that seems like the best book you can read,” I asked
“Which one?” Asked Plato with all the eagerness he could master. “Turn right, Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a yellow sun…
Now let me bring you to speed. In my closed circle of friends, we refer to women as books, and any mention of the word book is instantly wired in us to respond to the presence of some lady whom we must take notice. Any reference to any colour has to do with the colour of her clothes. We can gossip a woman in our presence and she can even comment or think us as the most serious academicians, but nothing can be further from the truth.
As Sheila sauntered away from the cyber, we decided to stalk her. She took the lift and we took the stairs to throw her off guard. Plato looks murderous and can scare a beautiful woman like Sheila into daymares. We followed her up to Kencom and we realized the futility of our stupidity before dropping her off, hoping that fate, no matter how slim, will ever bring us together. I prayed.
Some three weeks later after that blinding encounter…I stumbled upon Sheila in campus. I could never have told her from Eve (the first woman) had she not wore the very clothes I saw her with. Thank goodness. I went berserks. Plato was a few yards away and I called him confirming that she is the one.
Luckily she was talking to a former Maranda High School boy (the first school from Luo to debunk the myth that Luo and Swahili never ever crossed each other on the road.) Plato happened to have gone to Maranda though he ended up in BA and his Swahili is quite apologentic…
So Plato walked up to his former school mate,(quite an unapproachable chap) broke the ice and came back with the 411. Turns out that Sheila is Luo(unreliable) and she is in a stable relationship…That was pretty discouraging. We got a few sketchy details and moved on. Since then, I only used to see her once every month. Always busy and circumspect.
I have worked so hard to meet her but all my strategies have failed since I have not been able to trace her to her class. I asked everyone in the School of Journalism but they all seemed oblivious of her existence. Then out of the bluez..I see my cousing Emman, cracking a joke with her in Main Campus. I literally run up to them but they had spoken too soon. I her walk away and her bum swinging suitably and every single erotic nerve in me was activated.Sheila…
I quarreled with Emman that this is the chick I had been talking about and he was like…
“Aa Sheila…si daro hatumutambui…”Lakini ako na boy…lakini kaa unaeza kaza jaribu.”Then Emman’s friend chipped in that she has the attitude of all women in China and India combined.
“Well I said I don’t care, but I was glad that I can easily access now having traced her in campus through outright stalking.”
So when Emman was havin his birthday and asked for drinks, I hesitated. He mentioned that Sheila was going to be available and I offered to come along, down to Jogoo road. I mentiobned this Plato and he said that we should show up and behave our best…doing talks along this lines,
“Yeah, I love that song, but I don’t like Drake when perfoming…he seems that all he can do is wave and wave song after song….”
Or,” Music will never be the same, ever since Nate Dogg has done left…”
“Or Biscuits…they are my secret vice…I can’t have enough of them….My sister has often insisted that my sweet tooth will have me pay that dreaded visit to the doctor.”Yah all know that plastic, nay, metallic talk normally associated with middle-class Nairobi.Emman having insisted I turn up I had to. He is my cousin one. Two, Emann gets what Emman wants. Three he can be very persistent (a quality that I treasure and admire in young men and women.)
Come Saturday, I picked on Bon-I who was already too high and his meddlesome but maliciously funny…sample this
“Maze tunaenda..kutakua na madame…wa ina gani hao machips? Tuende na juala am na fork…)”That is Davie for you(I’m yet to meet a good Davie)
We bought some hard stuff and I carried a dozen Reds, hoping that I will meet Sheila…After witnessing a very freaky accident along Jogoo Road…I’m perturbed. It looks like a sign of bad things to come. Surely, I turn up and Sheila is not there. Reason: she wasn’t picking anyone’s calls.
So my stalking got an extension and I don’t think whether relenting is an option. But let us see how far I will go first….

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