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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 05/08/2022
Sweet Banana
Born 1979, M, from Blantyre, MalawiMy name is Phiri. Jameson Phiri. Many people know me by my nickname, “Kapolo”. Hahaha funny, isn’t it? When it comes to beer, I drink it like nobody’s business, and people think I am crazy. I am not here to crack jokes and all that stuff. No no no, I am not even here to tell you some amusing stories about myself, let alone anyone else. I don’t have any of such stories as far as I know. The truth is, I would like to tell you a doleful account of how I came to be the idiot I am today. You see, many folks, especially the holier-than-thou, ask me way too much questions, like “Kapolo, why don’t you go to church?” It is a plaintive story I have never told anyone before.
It all happened some decade ago, I remember. I have a vivid memory the whole drama took place in mid-November of the year 1994. How can I forget? It was a rainy season, all kinds of green plants had emerged and blossomed, and the grass on my backyard required services of the garden boy whom I had recently relieved of his duties, for rumour that he was sleeping with my step daughter. What a shame! I fully recall it was on a Friday evening. Judith and I had just come back from work. On this particular Friday, I picked up my wife Judith from her work place because I had knocked off at my office earlier than usual. I was working as a chief accountant for Malambe Beverages, a company that had just exponentially sprouted in town with its unique brand of sweet Malambe juice. My Judith was working as a receptionist with a certain renowned Asian Freight and Cargo company. To hell with whatever people used to say about them receptionists. Truth be told, I was a complete happy man. My job was well paying, my wife, very beautiful! What else would I ask for? Although I had only worked nine months at Malambe Beverages, and had not yet completed my one year probationary period, and honestly, all hope was there I would be confirmed because my bosses were fully pleased with my work. They commended me for improving the company’s management of finances.
I parked my Toyota Hilux, SR5 double cabin in the garage, got off and went round to open for my lovely wife. She quickly stepped out with a beautiful and contagious smile on her face while caressing my back as I closed the car door. She led the way to the main door of our fabulous mansion and I followed, watching and admiring her ever tantalising state of the art behind. As we got to the living room I felt some kind of irritation on my throat. That sort of discomfort you feel when you are developing a sore throat. I therefore made my way to the kitchen to relieve myself with a glass of cold water while she proceeded to the bedroom. Alas! No water in the dispenser, I nearly cursed. I opened the left door of the refrigerator, produced out a half full bottle of Ceres juice and helped myself. It never really worked. I blamed it all on the gin I had drunk the previous night.
When I got to the bedroom, Judith was seated on the edge of our queen size bed, naked. Oh God, “What a beautiful woman you gave me!” For the first time I thought I was the luckiest man in the world. I stood still at the doorway staring at her, thinking and may be admiring, like I was seeing her for the first time. Her breasts stood firm like breasts of a 16 year old or so. I desired to jump at her and make love to her the very same moment, but before the thought even came, Judith said, “Darling”, waving her right hand in slow motion, “Will join me for a cold shower? It’s freaking hot.” Immediately, she stood up and walked towards the bathroom, then stopped halfway, looked somehow dazed or perturbed to be precise, got back to the side drawers of the bed, took out her cell phone and connected it to the charger. After that she proceeded to the bathroom while giving me that inviting tepid gaze which says “follow me my dear.” I quickly put down my laptop bag and undressed myself without minding where I was throwing my overalls. No sooner had I finished getting myself in Adam’s birth suit than my wife’s phone rung. I ignored it first, but on a second thought decided to just check who was calling. It was actually a message, coming from a contact saved as “Sweet Banana”. Astonished with the contact’s name, I took interest to open it. Holy cow! What I saw completely paralyzed my five senses.
Today, I am told that I have stayed in comma for seven good years. I still have a striking memory of the nude pictures my wife was exchanging with “Sweet Banana”, my favourite man of god at our local church, Prophet Mfuti.
Sweet Banana(Mike Kaupembe)
My name is Phiri. Jameson Phiri. Many people know me by my nickname, “Kapolo”. Hahaha funny, isn’t it? When it comes to beer, I drink it like nobody’s business, and people think I am crazy. I am not here to crack jokes and all that stuff. No no no, I am not even here to tell you some amusing stories about myself, let alone anyone else. I don’t have any of such stories as far as I know. The truth is, I would like to tell you a doleful account of how I came to be the idiot I am today. You see, many folks, especially the holier-than-thou, ask me way too much questions, like “Kapolo, why don’t you go to church?” It is a plaintive story I have never told anyone before.
It all happened some decade ago, I remember. I have a vivid memory the whole drama took place in mid-November of the year 1994. How can I forget? It was a rainy season, all kinds of green plants had emerged and blossomed, and the grass on my backyard required services of the garden boy whom I had recently relieved of his duties, for rumour that he was sleeping with my step daughter. What a shame! I fully recall it was on a Friday evening. Judith and I had just come back from work. On this particular Friday, I picked up my wife Judith from her work place because I had knocked off at my office earlier than usual. I was working as a chief accountant for Malambe Beverages, a company that had just exponentially sprouted in town with its unique brand of sweet Malambe juice. My Judith was working as a receptionist with a certain renowned Asian Freight and Cargo company. To hell with whatever people used to say about them receptionists. Truth be told, I was a complete happy man. My job was well paying, my wife, very beautiful! What else would I ask for? Although I had only worked nine months at Malambe Beverages, and had not yet completed my one year probationary period, and honestly, all hope was there I would be confirmed because my bosses were fully pleased with my work. They commended me for improving the company’s management of finances.
I parked my Toyota Hilux, SR5 double cabin in the garage, got off and went round to open for my lovely wife. She quickly stepped out with a beautiful and contagious smile on her face while caressing my back as I closed the car door. She led the way to the main door of our fabulous mansion and I followed, watching and admiring her ever tantalising state of the art behind. As we got to the living room I felt some kind of irritation on my throat. That sort of discomfort you feel when you are developing a sore throat. I therefore made my way to the kitchen to relieve myself with a glass of cold water while she proceeded to the bedroom. Alas! No water in the dispenser, I nearly cursed. I opened the left door of the refrigerator, produced out a half full bottle of Ceres juice and helped myself. It never really worked. I blamed it all on the gin I had drunk the previous night.
When I got to the bedroom, Judith was seated on the edge of our queen size bed, naked. Oh God, “What a beautiful woman you gave me!” For the first time I thought I was the luckiest man in the world. I stood still at the doorway staring at her, thinking and may be admiring, like I was seeing her for the first time. Her breasts stood firm like breasts of a 16 year old or so. I desired to jump at her and make love to her the very same moment, but before the thought even came, Judith said, “Darling”, waving her right hand in slow motion, “Will join me for a cold shower? It’s freaking hot.” Immediately, she stood up and walked towards the bathroom, then stopped halfway, looked somehow dazed or perturbed to be precise, got back to the side drawers of the bed, took out her cell phone and connected it to the charger. After that she proceeded to the bathroom while giving me that inviting tepid gaze which says “follow me my dear.” I quickly put down my laptop bag and undressed myself without minding where I was throwing my overalls. No sooner had I finished getting myself in Adam’s birth suit than my wife’s phone rung. I ignored it first, but on a second thought decided to just check who was calling. It was actually a message, coming from a contact saved as “Sweet Banana”. Astonished with the contact’s name, I took interest to open it. Holy cow! What I saw completely paralyzed my five senses.
Today, I am told that I have stayed in comma for seven good years. I still have a striking memory of the nude pictures my wife was exchanging with “Sweet Banana”, my favourite man of god at our local church, Prophet Mfuti.
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