Dinner with Emiley (short story)

[Abtigiis]

Dinner with Emiley

 

She called me on my number. As the executive secretary of the head of office, there is nothing unusual about this call.

 

Me: “yes, Emiley. How is it?”

 

Emiley: “Good. Where are you? The meeting will start in five minutes time. Did you print enough copies of the talking points for the head of office?”

 

Me: “I didn’t print. But I am on my way to the office. Maybe five minutes. I will print 30 copies as soon as I arrive.”

 

Emiley: “I think that will be late. Anyway…”

 

Five minutes later, I arrived. I quickly went to my PC to order the prints, but she rushed from her desk and told me that she was only making me nervous, but otherwise she has already printed the copies. She gave it to me. I was happy and thanked her.

 

“Thank you Emiley. I will make sure I reciprocate this favour soon.” I said

 

Emiley: “ Ya. You must buy me a lunch.” Gi-gi-gi-gi ( a big African laughter followed)

 

Me: “I will. Tomorrow lunch.”

 

Next day, she came and told me lunch is not convenient to her and perhaps we make it dinner on the weekends. Saturday.

 

Saturday arrived and we met at 6:00pm. Locating where to eat was a challenge, but finally we settled for Cais-Cais, a Portuguese restaurant. I was the one who arrived earlier, as I wanted to go early to my home. She arrived later at about 7:00pm. She said she had to drive from her church located at the other side of the city, where she attended a service.

 

Order was placed for the food and the talk started. I was careful not to give any impression that I was interested in her, or in knowing some information about my boss, who is obviously an enemy to me. He is in a fight with his deputy, and I am an ally of the deputy. Or that is how he sees me.

 

Emiley started the chat. “I was in the church and as the lead of the group; I couldn’t cut it and run. That is why I have to delay.”

 

Me: “I understand. What is your church called?”

 

Emiley: “ It is Seventh Day Adventist.”

 

Me: “And how is that different from the Pentecostal, Orthodox, Catolic and others? I mean what is the biggest point of difference?”

 

Emiley: “aaa.., It is the day of worship. And couple of things. But, yes, mainly the day. For us, it is Saturday, because God created the world on Sunday and rested on Sat urday (the seventh day).”

 

Me: “So, this is more like the Sabbath of the Jews?”

 

Emiley: “yes, in some ways. Yes, we concur on the day of worship, but we are Christians”.

 

She was well dressed for the evening. Her dark skin contrasting with mine, fitting the big picture behind the wall, advertising Black & White Whiskey. If a moment of madness were to arrive and legs would have to interweave, I wonder if we would have looked like an unblemished Zebra, in unison. A nasty thought I quickly repelled.

 

If it is not my man mind playing that old trick of misunderstanding women’s intentions, I sensed Emiley was keen to change the subject of discussion into something more worldly. I was pressing on the religion topic, deliberately, and I thought she wanted something more befitting of the occasion.

 

She pointed to the toilet facing us from a distance, where a man just went into. I saw the big mark “Fart-Free Zone” written there, and was a bit embarrassed. But I didn’t tell her. I thought she must have seen it now. Apparently, she didn’t.

 

“You see that man going into the toilet. There is a girl who went inside there minutes ago.” She giggled.

 

“Maybe, the women section is inside as well. And they share the front door.” I said.

 

“No, no, the women section is at our back. There.” She pointed towards it.

 

Before I replied, a young girl came out from the toilet door with a broom at her hand and a bucket of water. She must have been the cleaner.

 

Few minutes later and after several “so…, tell me” starts from her end, a large black woman suddenly came after greeting us, pulled a chair and shared our table. I waited for Emiley to talk to her in her local language. But she didn’t. Instead the big women looked at me and said “you know me. Yes?” I shook my head, not affirmatively.

 

“Ok. My bill is only ten dollars. You pay it and I leave”.

 

I didn’t respond. The manager, obviously noting the discomfort we are feeling came, and asked me if I can talk to him.

 

“Sir, do you know her?” he asked

 

“No.”

 

He thanked me and ordered the security guy to remove her. She didn’t resist, although I later learned that she was telling the guy to leave so that she can follow. She didn’t want to be pushed or shoved.

 

But just before I returned to my table, my wife called. And the women who intruded us answered the phone, saying “hang on, he is here. Coming”.

 

Emiley asked, “Do you know her. She is a prostitute.”

 

I felt embarrassed.

 

By then Emiley has finished three quarter of the big Peri-peri chicken she ordered. I was struggling with the Tillapia fish and the potatoes. But she said that the chicken is too hot.

 

“What? After finishing three quarters?” I almost yelled.

 

I told her that she can try the Fish. I didn’t want to stay longer by ordering new round. She did just that and took a big chunk. She also ordered for the remaining chicken (which was by then mercilessly scoured) to be packed for take-away.

 

My phone rang again, and a voice in Somali was saying “ war meeshaad joogtaa maxay aheyd. Caanihii ka yar ha soo iloobin. Come fast because we are having a problem with the DSTV.”

 

I escorted Emiley to her car, thanked her and went to my car. Some of the dark creatures around, who kept on looking at me, as a foreigner taking advantage of their women must have sighed a sigh of relief when they saw we went into two different cars. But when I turned and stopped at the immediate red traffic light, the car next to me was hers. They must have thought we were heading to the butchery.

 

Just before we left our table, Emiley was in no hurry. The white stuff over her eye-lids, velvet eyelids, and radiant red lipstick gave her a look of the proverbial woman who refused to go out of bed, in Firew Hailu’s "Esheruru". For whom, he sang thus:

 

“She painted her tits and lips

With stuff I do not know

And said she will not go out of it

Stretching wide on the bed”

[Jacaylbaro]

and you're saying this is short ?? ,,

[Kamaavi]

Excellent and shorty.

[NGONGE]

Heh. Your daily life is littered with temptation, saaxib. But what is with the fetish with big African women (Farkhanda aside)?

[Abtigiis]

Few would have resisted such temptations. Give credit where it is due.

 

It is an obsession that refuses to go away. For some strange reason, i always believe those are the ultimate game-makers. Softy baa na daashatay saaxin.

 

Although, yesterday, when I went to play football with Ethiopian community, ku ciyaala suuqa (he used to be Airbone during mengistu and he fled with him) ayaa qosol igu dilay. All of a sudden, he narrated an encounter he had with this white girl. What was funny was the way he was laughing.

 

I asked him how are they? Markaasu intuu cirka eegay, in delirium yidhi " min liba lih (maxaan ku idhaa?)...ee..ee. " Ok, "Cake". Call it cake. Cake unbuu ku waashay. Whatever he have tasted must have left an impression with him.

[NGONGE]

^^

[nuune]

lool@min lib lih CAKE

 

 

Nice sheeko btw

[Malika]

@A&T, must have been a creamed cake..astagfirullah!

 

A&T,I think wifey should definetly insist you go work in Saudi,waax aad dawaatiid markaa aad weydoo,you might be healed..Lol

 

geesii baa tahay,to tell as it is.

 

I laughed at the wife calling to remind you of caanihii haylawiin..Lol so typical!

[Abtigiis]

Malika

 

Thanks for all. What people fail to understand is that faced with enourmous temptations and abundunt supply, I am yet to falter. I think people miss that side to my stories.

 

Malika, Walaahi if you see the face of that Axmaar man; when he was making the narration, you wouldn't have forgotten for ages.

 

He must have been desperate to tell it to someone as it was an encounter he had this week. We were lying on the grass waiting for the other members of the team to arrive, and he just started the story out of the blue. My elder son was beside me, when the man started (and becuase the son knows the language), I have to tell him to go and bring something for me from somewhere.

 

The xabashi is impressed. Cake! " naftu haday iga baxdo that moment, I wouldn't mind, kulahaa".

[Abtigiis]

Oh! I forgot the big part. Wuxuu yidhi (he is a dark guy), when I looked myself with her there on the mirror, i thought my whatever looked like a badly roasted maize on a white sheet of cloth.

[Jacaylbaro]

,,, Excellent Story sxb.

 

 

Tell us about the next morning ,,,

[Abtigiis]

Before I tell you anything, let me tell you a breaking news. THE CAMERONIAN BOSS IS SUMMARILY DISMISSED FOR GROSS INCOMPETENCE AND ABUSE OF AUTHORITY.

 

Where is sister Malika? Naa ku dhufo ililililil!!! mashxarad. The deputy is officer-in-charge, and is already saying I am the "unoffcial' deputy. Meeshi waan qabsanay, as Somali's like to say. It was a victory of professionalim over randomness and inflated ego.

 

Jacayl

 

Emiley waan is aragnay, and she gave me a cold greeting this morning.

[Jacaylbaro]

why was it cold ?? ,, coz ,, ehem ,,, you didn't ,, een ,, ehem ??

 

 

Congrats markaa ,,,, Now since you are the Deputy, you should hire me for your current position. I really need to meet this Emiley ,,,

[Abtigiis]

waryaa soodir CV'ga. Dhakhso.

[BOB]

Thanks for going back to your familiar name that I'm used to...now meesha ka wad sheekada waaba sheeko cajiib ehe...iikaadi aan waarikoow usoo qaate.

 

 

Peace, Love & Unity.