EBOLA

I went to an Mpesa stall day before
yesterday. I have a specific Mpesa
place I go to every time. I registered with my Mums ID
ages ago and I am too lazy to go and make the changes.You know how those safaricom customer cares are nagging.so I decided to make an
Mpesa lady my  friend who will not ask me for my ID. I have been going
there almost a 2 years now and she has
even mastered the first four
numbers of my ID number! After a
transaction she will go like, “ID
number ni Three, one, six, eight
halafu?”
This is an expensive relationship…
time-wise. I cannot just go there
withdraw or deposit money and
leave! We have to talk for a short
while. We gossip, she knows
everything going on around her! The
other day she was telling me how
two waiters from a nearby
restaurant, a man and woman left
together holding hands. She things
they are having sex!
The Mpesa lady, Prisca, is short. She
was nothing above four and a half
feet. She is really dark with shinny
chubby cheeks that have seen their
fair share of Vaseline Petroleum jelly.
On hot days she shines from all the
molten petroleum on her face and
on cold days the sweat pores on her
face are sealed shut!
Her breath is detestable and the
braids on her head are few, maroon
and scattered. She has three
blouses, a green net one, a milky silk
one and a brown net one. Her nails
are all eaten up deep into the skin.
The skin around her nails is
chapped from missing the nails
when she bites at them. Prisca’s
laugh is a modified snore. It is
funny!
After I deposited 1,200 bob Prisca
said, “ID number ni Three, one,
Six, eight , half?” I gave it to her then
she slid the Mpesa book for me to
sign. A drop of blood left my nose
and hit the Mpesa book with a light
decent blop

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