Let's say a guy named Mwangi is attracted to a woman
named Njambi. He asks her out to a movie, she accepts; they have a
pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and
again they enjoy themselves.
They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither
one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to
Njambi, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud, "Do you
realise that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly
six months?"
And then there is silence in the car. To Njambi, it seems like a very
loud silence. She thinks to herself, "Ngai! I wonder if it bothers him
that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our
relationship;maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of
obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of."
And Mwangi is thinking, "Ngoma! Six months!"
And Njambi is thinking, "But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of
relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so
I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going
the way we are, moving steadily toward...I mean, where are we going?
Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of
intimacy?Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a
lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?"
And Mwangi is thinking, "...so that means it was...let's
see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had
the car at the garage, which means...let me check the odometer...Whoa!
I am way overdue for an oil change here."
And Njambi is thinking, "He's upset. I can see it on his face.
Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our
relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has
sensed...even before I sensed it...that I was feeling some
reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to
say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected."
And Mwangi is thinking, "And I'm going to have them look at the clutch
again. I don't care what those Nugus say, it's still not engaging right.
And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time.
What cold weather? It's 30 degrees outside, and this thing is shifting
like a chokora garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves 12,000 bob!"
And Njambi is thinking, "He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be
angry, too. Ngai! I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I
can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure."
And Mwangi is thinking, "They'll probably say it's only a 90-day
warranty. That's exactly what they're going to say, the nyangaus."
And Njambi is thinking, "Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a
knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right
next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person
I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A
person who is in pain because of my self-centred, schoolgirl romantic fantasy."
And Mwangi is thinking, "Warranty? They want a warranty I'll give them
a bloody warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their..."
"Mwangi," Njambi says aloud.
"What?" asks Mwangi, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes
beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...Ngai, I
feel so..." She breaks down, sobbing.
"What?" says Mwangi.
"I'm such a fool," Njambi sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I
really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Mwangi.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Njambi says.
"No!" says Mwangi, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...It's that I...I need some time," Njambi says.
There is a 15-second pause while Mwangi, thinking as fast as he can,
tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one
that he thinks might work.
"Yes," he says.
Njambi, deeply moved, touches his hand. "Oh, Mwangi, do you really
feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Mwangi.
"That way about time," says Njambi.
"Oh," says Mwangi. "Yes."
Njambi turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him
to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it
involves a horse.
At last she speaks. "Thank you, Mwangi," she says.
"Thank you," says Mwangi.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted,
tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Mwangi gets back to
his place,he opens a bag of crisps, turns on the TV, and immediately
becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two
Czechoslovakians he never heard of ,as he awaits the big match of the day between MAN-U and ARSENAL. A tiny voice in the far recesses
of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in
the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever
understand what, and so he figuresit's better if he doesn't think
about it... (This is also Mwangi's policy regarding world hunger)
The next day Njambi will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of
them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours.
In painstaking detail, they will analyse everything she said and
everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every
word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering
every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this
subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any
definite conclusions,but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Mwangi, while playing squash one day with a mutual friend
of his and Njambi's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say,
"Kamau, did Njambi ever own a horse??"
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