I have this friend I have known my whole life, literally. I don’t have a memory of him not in my life. Now, Abdi, (Of course not his real name), is very secretive. So secretive it irks me when he holds back juicy info I get petty. By petty I mean saying prayers like, ‘May you get diarrhea as you step out of the shower’ or ‘May your phone always be on silent when you misplace it’. I am the queen of petty I know. I read random stuff and embody it in my life. So one afternoon Abdi calls me from across the ocean to catch up. And then he asks why he has never known I write. I have no answer as always. Abdi is one of those summer bunnies who live in Germany and he comes home every Christmas to tan his already brown skin in Mombasa.

We haven’t been in touch for a while so we talk on an on. He tells me his women problems and I listen. Then out of nowhere he quips, ”Did I ever tell you?”

Me: What?

Abdi: How I was almost raped…

Me: Huh, what, by whom, when, where?

Abdi: I should come back home and take you around Nairobi.

He tried to dodge till I thought he was joking. He then said, “nilipe nikwambie story” and went off for 44 minutes, yes I was counting. I said I am the queen of petty, remember? So I was there fidgety as hell. This made me remember how my friend once told me of another friend who loves mushene to the point of following you to find out the ending. She once sat on a city council bench in City Park and some ladies were talking. They happened to leave before mushene was over, she followed them to town until mushene was over. That is what I call thirst!

I found Abdi online some time later and he claimed to have been busy working. I checked with my world clock which indicated Frankfurt time as 12:00pm. I am told people don’t work in Germany on Sundays. That even some shopping malls are closed. I didn’t question him since I know a Kenyan can burn oil anytime, anywhere. He insisted that I would have to pay him for the story. I guess that will be two brown bottles when summer bunny next flies south.

Abdi told me about his close friend. He has known this guy for years, enough to consider him close. The friend had tried to hit on him on several occasions but Abdi and his naïve ass *pun intended* was none the wiser. He thought they were just normal guy friends. You see Abdi is one of those guys who has very few female friends. Even if team mafisi were offering membership on account of flirting with a hooker on Koinange Street, Abdi would not qualify. I usually tell him he will be single for a few more years because he can only sex a girl he is in a relationship with (scratch that). His current boss thinks he is gay. His former boss thought the same too. Abdi has had two serious relationships that scarred him. He learned to guard his emotions.

Abdi had been inviting this friend over but was always declined on account that Abdi had roommates. One lazy Friday afternoon, they met in a drinking joint in town. Kumbe this fellow alikuwa na mpango. He had booked a room in a posh hotel in Nairobi CBD. They stayed out very late. The hotel was a walking distance from the pub. He asked Abdi to walk with him to his hotel room since they was too drunk to drive home. Angel Abdi had no idea of what he was walking into.

Abdi sat on the couch as his friend staggered to the bathroom. He was too engrossed in scanning the TV channels to notice he was no longer alone in the room. In a split of a second, he was under his buddy whose trousers were off. Abdi is tall and strong but was high. He was almost subdued. Somehow, he managed to disentangle himself from the unwelcome hug akatimua kivumbi. His car keys fell down but he could not dare pick them. How could he bend over?

The following morning, he got a call from his very disappointed friend who said “ABDI,how could you do that to me last night? I will never forget!”

Later, much later as I was thinking over it I kept asking myself, “Who called who?”

In the closet