Joyce Jumps Me

Same afternoon.

I have had lunch and some friends come over to visit. We argue about whether to watch a movie in town (Cameo had some steamy third rate shows running every day ) or go out and play some ball ( these days it would be referred to as "shooting some hoops"). We are gathered in our back yard making quite a bit of a racket.. really just minding our own business when Joyce decides to make an appearance in one of the rooms on the first floor! She slowly unties the lesso shes wearing and bends- disappearing from our view for a few torturous seconds! Thankfully she reappears holding a different lesso; this one a rich blue with bright white flowers. She doesn't knot it at the back of her neck like before but slowly wraps and tucks it into itself at the roof of her breasts.

Although the houses are not close to see that much detail, our collective imagination acts like a magnifying glass and more than makes up for the distance. We are as quiet as dead mice and closer to adolescent heaven than ever before! Those third rate movies could not compare with this.... This was the real thing!

We listen to the music playing in our minds, the occasional moan punctuating the silence. I, like everyone else am transfixed... I know she is playing and toying with us but I cant move. She moves her shoulders back and forth, swaying closer and closer to the window. She then faces us, stretches out her hands and sharply pulls the curtains. Shes gone.

Without exception each one of us is breathing quite sharply now. I am numb in more places than one, my head and other significant part are both throbbing. I must have been holding my breath all this time, starving my brain of oxygen, because I feel extremely lightheaded and dry mouthed. In reality it couldn't have been longer than two or three minutes- but it felt much longer. Thinking back I felt like I'd feel after spending an hour watching a dancer work the pole in an adult club. To each one of us this was a sacred moment. To this day that impression is indelibly burnt to memory.

We start to scheme, our recently broken voices edge us on with 'manly' courage. The plan is very simple really.. two of my friends and I would go and go the house and 'visit'- we were certain (or should I say cocksure) that we would be hushed into the lounge and asked to feel at home and offered something to drink. We were certain that we would then be invited upstairs one at a time. We argued for a while who would go upstairs first... for some reason none of us wanted to take the lead. This was not agreed upon but we did reach an agreement as to who would initiate conversation. We choose Cedric because he has a bigger in body and a hint of a moustache on his lip. We are sure he can easily pass for 18.

Well, the false courage was in place and we start off round the corner, full of anticipation, ready for the kill- like an army marching confidently towards its first battle. We know we were going to be men in a short while- we were about to experience what the bigger boys constantly talked about every day.. getting some!! I am excited at that prospect and am busy searching my memory for the things I have read and seen in magazines. We soldier on and with every step the courage that we were earlier full of, is replaced by an awkward fear... my heart is thumping in my chest so strongly I am frightened of the others hearing it. Picture this: three young boys bouncing (nay - floating), pockets filled with hands in an attempt to disguise their unused tools, purposefully down the road to have their first meeting with destiny.

The gate is ajar and in single file we hesitantly make our way to the front door. We congregate at the steps and before any of us can raise a hand to knock, the door is pulled open and I hear behind me the hasty departure of my partners in crime. With my knees weak and my legs heavy as lead, I stand there and Joyce smiles at me and says... " Ahh! marafiki wako waoga kweli." She speaks in that melodious super sexy coastal Swahili. " Karibu." She says and I still dont have words. She offers me a seat and turns the three-in-one volume up a bit. Josephat Ngige is presenting Sundowner with his usual talented mix of love songs. My heart is beating to the sound of Abbas rendition of..:

" Can you hear the drums Fernando? I remember long ago another starry night like this In the firelight Fernando....."

She zeros in on me and moves in very close. I still haven't spoken a word. I see a strange sparkle in her eyes as she grabs hold of me and attacks my lips with wet kisses. Her hands are all over me and mine are at my side. I don't know what to do I am lost. I'm loving every minute of it; but I'm unsure where to touch and where not to- and how!. She wrestles me down to the carpet and sits on me. I still haven't said a word. My eyes are taking in the sights of the crazed beauty in a lesso- bringing forth curves, tastes, smells, sounds and texture that are exploding my senses. STOP!


******I am sure a number of you (read Nick and Co. ) out there expected me pen down much steamier encounters with Joyce. Some will no doubt be disappointed but I choose to leave the rather graphic conclusion to this encounter to your imagination.


Living Next Door to Joyce

Joyce in the A.M

So I am sitting here along the banks of the river Nile. Watching the water flow by, carrying its payload of hyacinth mixed with plastic bottles of water, discarded by some idiot maybe two countries away. Here in Juba the Nile is amazing, at some spots its almost 200 metres in width and sitting under the hundreds of mango trees, the breeze is as refreshing as the breeze at the coast. The temperature, at about 30 degrees, is much cooler than in the town centre. Its four in the afternoon and I have just finished a meeting with a client down the road from the camp that I am staying in. I have just been reading my last post which I did about a year ago. I close my eyes and I can hear an old Commodores song playing from the stereo- " Thanx for the times that you've given me... the memories are all in my mind..."... I doze off and my mind goes back to Joyce.. that perfectly formed Taita princess that I lived next door to; one August many, many, many years ago.

She was 18 and I was 14.
I know you guys reading this can relate to that. In our youth ( at least in mine) there was always that something about older girls... maybe its because as a young boy with hormones playing havoc on you... one was attracted to a (more)mature female. I remember the first girl I kissed was two classes ahead of me- that's another story for another day!

Looking back I now know why my mother took extra effort when interviewing maids and not the gardeners. The older and less attractive, the more qualified they were. I'd always thought that my mother had terrible taste but now I know she was only protecting me from myself.

It didn't take long for things to start happening at our neighbours house. In the morning Joyce would be in the backyard washing clothes... and I would be in our backyard watching her washing clothes. Every time our maid came round - I think her name was Constance-I would pretend to be engrossed in a chemistry text book. At first I think my mother was fooled by this act.. but she began to wonder how I could spend all hours in the same spot reading the same book and then she would call me into the house. Going to the house always took a few minutes longer than usual and I can still hear my mother yelling: " LUKA!!!!" (pronounced with a deep Kikuyu flavour)
The reason for turning the 10 feet into a couple hundred was because of that protrusion just below my waist. I had to give it time to compose itself. Once in the house she would ask me what I was reading and I would reply- chemistry (maybe I should have been reading biology- I could have perhaps landed myself a half decent job) or whatever book I had out there. She would engage me in never ending conversations as only mothers know how to when you are in a hurry. At this point in time my mind would wander over to the backyard and I attempt to extricate myself from mothers' stories. When I finally manage to get away- I run to the backyard and I am there in two seconds flat! But as luck would have it Joyce... ohhhhh beautiful Joyce is done with the washing and I find her hanging the last of the clothes on the line. I watch, mesmerised as a gentle breeze pulls at her 'leso' and I catch a glimpse of the smooth,chocolate milky thighs.

Sadly she's through and starts walking back into the house but she turns and flashes me one of those smiles... you know the type.... the one that says.very softly.... 'soon!'

Next... Joyce and Beat time at 5 Pm


BLUE and His Exploits Along The River Nile

Blue has been working in the land of Kush. He has touched the waters that for years amazed many 'people' (read white people); flowing from South to North - over 4000 miles , through semi-arid land and deserts. The longest river in the world providing a livelihood for millions of people along its banks. The water that baby Moses floated in....

Surrounded by tall, shapely, beautiful ,berry- black (not black berry) girls who dont sweat in the daily 40+ temperatures. They are sooooo elegant- they all posses long necks, small faces and the tiniest of waists. Their teeth are sparkling white and against the dark skin they are simply lovely. In some parts of this hot land, many of them walk around wearing nothing the waist up... it is not an exciting sight but a truly beautiful one...I am surrounded by thousands of Alek Wek look a alikes..... the mkamba in me can only look and....

are my readers still out there?