Natural Born Liars

Low Riders

Janet bent over and picked up her wet towel from the floor off of dilapidated communal bathroom she shared with 27 other tenants. She moved forward, standing up and started drying herself. A crack in the old glass window placed at the centre of the wall that was covered with brownish muck managed to reflect some kind of silhoutte on the wooden door.
Today was a big day for her. She was supposed to meeting 2 sheikhs from Abu Dhabi at the airport. She had to look dapper. She started singing her favourite Kikuyu song. It went

"Unyonetie wendo munene ukagegia ngoro yakwa
Ukagarura ngoro yakwa ukahe uturo mweru..."

There was a sudden thud on the door it almost fell off from its rusty hinges. A loud rustle followed by a voice sounding like it was from soundtrack of Godzila 2 followed.
"Toka nje choo si yako pekee" ordered the male voice.
"Give me 2 minutes" was the subtle answer.
A low groan from Alex, the door number 15 tenant who worked in Mzalendo Mechanics was what she heard in the next 45 seconds or so which ostensibly felt like a decennium.
He tried to turn the knob to open the door as she wrapped up the blue Chelsea Football club themed towel. Ironically, it was worn out and frayed like the prevalent mishmash situation at the particular football club.
She opened the door and the sun hit her wet face. Her head was covered with a brand new shower cap she had received a couple of days ago bought by a male admirer in a shopping mall after there was a sudden downpour in Nairobi.
Alex picked up his bucket of water and proceeded to enter the bathroom even before Janet was outside. He had a red towel wrapped around his waist. His pot belly was an eyesore to look at. He had tits huge as the Tana River mangoes. His filamentous chest was greying. It was 7 am but infirmity was written all over his face. His arms debile. His legs immobile as he turned around and watched her copulent hindquarters walk away. Unless you were blind or had a stiff neck, if you were a man and sometimes, a woman, you had to look behind when Janet walked away.
Walk away she did. As gracefully as a Hirola in the the reserves of Kora in Garissa. She never wanted to be in abeyance at any moment in her life.
The Arab Sheiks, Abdul Mansor and Amr Mussa were to arrive with flight ML95 of Kabeer Airlines at 0815 hrs EAT at Jomo Kenyatta Airport. She was to pick them up and have a brunch at Norfolk Hotel in the CBD.
She had met Mansor through the Social dating site Tinder a couple of weeks ago. She opened her door, it was a sky blue, wooden B9 bedaubed at the top.
She entered and threw her towel on the mattress that lay on plastic carpet, at near right of the wall that had newspapers stuck on them as a embellishment. She took a Lux body lotion that lay on a metal rocking chair and ttickled some of it on her hand. She went ahead and rubbed it all over her body. She looked a herself in the mirror.
"Goddamn! I'm sexy as Queen Sheba" She mumbled to herself. She turned around and looked at her beautiful well shapped tush. She grapped one and said
"this is my mama's cornbread and mwaitoi's mukimo"

She picked up her Christian Dior make up kit and set on a plastic chair and faced the mirror. This right here was the best part of her daily rituals.