The first time I heard of the town was some weeks ago in a crazy Monday’s magazine. For it to have been featured there, believe me, this is a crazy town! To tell you the truth, I passed through here twice earlier on today, but it was only when we returned once again at night that I recognized it for what it really is. I don’t know how I’d missed the many lodgings at this place which is rather grotesque for such a small town. But enough with Salgaa and its dark, under the cover of darkness, deeds.
Did I say that I’m in a car? I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life. My left leg is numb around the knee and hurts like hell. My feet are cold. I’m wearing an oversized sweater that belongs to some guy and the extra jacket, which I’m covering myself with is not big enough to act as a pillow and be used to cover my feet at the same time. I’m a little angry. This explains why I’m not with the rest of my ‘friends’ inside the pub.
It all started yesterday, on New Year’s Eve. I was at my friend’s place. Her name is Kay. You must have met her in this post. Knowing her the way I do, I knew only too well that we’d have to go out. I mean, isn’t that what normal people do on New Year’s Eve?
But I’m not a normal girl. I surprise even me. You see, I don’t mind going out when the night falls and I happen to be somewhere in town enjoying a glass of juice; neither do I mind it when I’m just from the office and have not gotten home yet; but I really mind it when I have to get up from the couch, stop the movie that I’m watching, or cut short my nap, shower, get dressed and go out. I do it every now and then, but I hate every moment of it.
But lady luck was on my side. Seeing the way I was psychologically tortured by the whole thing, Kay told me that it would still be okay if I didn’t want to go. She’d go alone. I could have hugged her right there and then. But I simply smiled inwardly as I sank deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket a little higher.
And that’s how the New Year found me. And as it was raining dead birds in Arkansas, we (don’t ask who the ‘we’ stands for) were trying to light our tiny fireworks stick (or whatever they call that thing), which backfired anyway. Blame it on the fact that there was no matchbox and we had to use the cooker and by the time we got it out, all the glamour were gone.
The call came early today morning, ‘Dress up. We’re coming to pick you up in five.’ When I tried to ask where we’re going, I could not get a straight answer. So I just freshened up and waited.
An hour later, she arrived. ‘We’re going to the farm,’ She said.
Below is what followed.,
|On the way to ‘I don’t know where yet|
They were all happy except me. Let me rephrase that, they looked very happy and I was indifferent. At some point my friend slept. We pass the above mentioned town for the very first time.
|My first glass of juice|
We got to this big, big farm house with very many dogs. I was offered J&B. And there went my resolution through the window.
|I cook breakfast. Drink still in hand|
I’ve not had breakfast yet and decide to prepare some for every one. Rice, scrambled eggs, and steamed cabbages. My friend adds potatoes and beans. 🙂
|Time to leave to the real farm|
As it turned out, we had to go harvest barley someplace else. On New Year?? Do people go to the shamba on a holiday? But anyway, we carried the juice with us to take in the car. The farm is in molo. On our way there, we pass through Salgaa for the second time.
|The driver and I on the combined harvester.|
I’m now tipsy and I decide to ride on the combined harvester. The driver has no problem with it. My friend even takes pictures of me. The driver wants to know how he can get them. I promise to send them to him. A lie obviously. (I might upload the pictures later on)
And that’s about all I remember. The rest is all blurry. The next thing I know, we are back in the big house with very many big dogs and everyone is asking me why I was crying. How now? I don’t remember crying. Maybe, you should tell me what you did to me to make me cry!
We take supper. And again the bit I hate most; We have to go out!!! I tell them that I’ll stay. They refuse. And when we’re in the car for the 37th time today, my friend tells me about me breaking a glass.
That must be it. I broke a glass, someone harassed me for doing it and I went outside the house to cry.
I’m now angry. That’s why I’m in the car at the moment.
UPDATE: I joined the rest eventually and the night was not as bad after all.
UPDATE: I was not harassed for breaking a glass. As it turns out, I was rude. I broke a glass, then went to the host and told him, ‘I’ll pay.’ He’s the one who should be angry.
I still don’t know why I was crying.