One Watch, One Crush, and a Lifetime of Glory

I was the first chap in my village to own this monster of a watch. It costed my old folks a leg and an arm, but it was worth the investment. Of course, getting them to buy it wasn't a walk in the park. It took 11 months, 18 days, 39 mins and 53 seconds reminiscent of Soviet Union propaganda, Cold War manipulation, and for what is worth, religious hypocrisy on my end for them to part with their hard earned village cripsy notes.

Well, who would have known that slapping my wrist with this bad boy of a monster watch was the missing link in unlocking the loins of Nafula, my then village crush. I still remember bumping into her at the posho mill many moons ago when the Nyayo milk was still part of the school curriculum. She kept starring at my watch like it was the source of the oxygen she was breathing.

Then the eighth wonder of the world happened: she looked straight into my tender amorous eyes, then she lustily stared at my holmberry lips, as if to say she wanted to feel how they taste, before she whispered the most beautiful words even spoken in my village: are you busy tomorrow? Admittedly, at that very moment, I swear I could speak fluent Korean and read Arabic with my eyes closed.

Two days after donning the most expensive watch in the village, my uncle Saimoni Shimuchira Makwakwa had shown up at our home wearing his trademark Tokyo branded trouser, perfectly complimented by his low self esteem. Apparently, he had come to borrow my watch to help him in his endeavor of trying to bag Salome, a 26 year old daughter of Eve who became a widow three months earlier. Let's just say that I slapped him with that look that wives reserve for cheating husbands, and that's how the conversation ended.

Decades later, I'm still praying for the chaps who manufactured that monster of a watch. Because of that watch: I became a school prefect, bagged Nafula as my village Kardashian, was circumcised with respect, and my name was slapped in the village history books. As I pray for the inventors, I'm careful to pray that when they finally get to be summoned to the next life, they will forever be serenaded by an orchestra of Koffi Olomide like angels and enjoy unlimited flow of holy wine.