Monday, 29 September 2014

The oriental lady in red



I was desperately trying to walk past her; she had an enthralling crimson top, red inviting lip balm that instantly pulled out the word “cherry fruit” from my biological Random Access Memory. Her brown eyes were mystical and drawing me in with an allure akin to the spells cast by medieval witches in epic movies.    

Not only was I entranced and my gait turning wobbly, but my hands were getting a tad sweaty and my heart beating with a palpable throb. For a moment, I was worried the other guests strolling into Norfolk Hotel’s Tinga Tinga room could see my light checked shirt rise and fall on my chest to the rhythm of the ecstatic beat of my heart. It 
was great throb.       

The little voices in my head have always known their place and respected our territorial boundaries. I had always kept them suppressed to a frequency lower than 20 Hertz—the lowest the human ear can perceive. On this particular moment they crossed that threshold and went a few decibels high and I could hear them chanting “Mi Amor, Mi Amor.” I dared not blurt out those words!        

I summoned my courage. “Hey don’t exude confidence, WAFT coolness, envelope her with your aura” the little voices were at it again and I answered them “who speaks like that?” But my step wasn’t right; this girl was cramping my style. As I walked past her, I managed to steal a calculated glance; there was no ring on this finger yet.      

Had all the preceding eyes not witnessed this beauty in all its glory and got zombified by its magnetism, or had they, like me, been deserted by their courage, chivalry and charm when it mattered most?  I was not going to make the same mistake.
 
Not only was I entranced and my gait turning wobbly, but my hands were getting a tad sweaty and my heart beating with a palpable throb.

“No ring! Yikes! This is open season, even if it means breaking the armoury, get the guns out we are going for the kill,” the sneaky little voices were at it again. But I wasn’t going to be spontaneous with this lass, I was going to draft a critical path; a foolproof strategy that makes me the theme and narrative in her life’s story rather than a mere comma.     

I was going to sit out this press conference and allocate the launch of the LG G3 Smartphone 30% of my attention and the rest to wrapping this damsel around my finger; little did I know that splitting my brain into disproportionate portions was going to be a daunting task. 


My temptation to compare every feature of the G3 smartphone with the beautiful damsel at the entrance was overwhelming. Focus interweaved between the presentation by the LG East Africa Head of Mobile Communications, Elvis Kim and the splendidness of Her Majesty at the entrance.

When Mr Kim averred that the smartphone packs 13MP OIS+ (Optical Image Stabilizer Plus) camera with a revolutionary Laser Auto Focus that can shoot stunningly sharp images in a fraction of the time, my eyes were already flickering at unprecedented shutter speed unrivalled by modern SLR cameras when the lady sashayed past me.

My vision was crystal clear, what I was beholding was the red apple of my eye in astounding resolution that could potentially rival the World’s first Quad High Definition phone. Measuring in at a 2560 x 1400 ratio with 538 pixels per square inch (PPI), I gather the G3 boasts of unrivalled picture resolution.

Modern 1080p screens manage only 400 PPI and Apple’s well received “Retina Display” contains only 326 PPI, I’m sure at that very moment that my retina capability beat Apple when the this apple, pardon the pan, strutted her stuff right before me. I could picture us taking numerous selfies with the G3 just to make my 3,843 friends on Facebook and my 5,984 followers on Twitter envious.   

All I had to do was make sure that the gadget has reliable privacy settings to safeguard our private encounters from being the fodder of #KOT. To borrow Macharia Gaitho’s lingo, I wouldn’t risk her being compared to the “dumb social climbers” (read socialites) and “wenches” famous mostly for gyrating their extensive derrière to lewd tracks like Jason Derulo’s “Wiggle Wiggle” for a “like” click on Youtube.     

And yes, this G3 Smartphone did conjure a picture of a light automatic weapon; the legendary NATO battle rifle developed by the German armament manufacturer Heckler & Koc at the tail end of World War II.

And though LG Electronics did not have the ravages of mortal combat in mind when they conceptualised this smartphone; I could envision myself in combat gear holding a G3 rifle ready to fight any other suitor, like Hellen of Troy replayed all over again.  Only this time, with my hands stretched out to catch a grenade for her.    

I was however perturbed and almost went into depression when the speaker spewed some gibberish about the G3 having a great “user experience.” Why would they think I would want to use this angelic temptress? You see, that phrase epitomized what is wrong with the world; people using people and loving things, instead of people loving people and using things.    

And what is this tomfoolery about the G3 phone warning us about weather so that we can carry an umbrella in the boot of my Toyota Fielder, while all we would want to do is kiss and dance in the rain? 

When I heard the G3’s innovative Laser Auto Focus technology can capture the best moment ― even in low light situations ― by measuring the distance between the subject and the camera using a laser beam, my RAM could only process the phrase “low light.” 

I was drifting away to a place between slumber land and where fairy princesses ride shimmering Unicorns. The pestilent little voices in my head had finally taken my threats of exorcising them seriously and were now in harmony with my mood, I could hear them belting a love ballad that sounded like a remix of Bob Marley’s “Turn your lights down low” and Don William’s “Turn out the light.”      

But just when my perfect dream was transitioning to its prime, when the little voices’ melody was soothing my soul and the lyrics interweaving into heavenly A capella, someone just had to mention the price of the LG G3 Smartphone; Ksh59, 999. Thoughts of penury suddenly crawled out the abysmal pit where I had suppressed them, the mood of the little voices changed and they suddenly went on a tangent with a cacophony akin to tone deaf, fat ladies singing to “Shida” by Mbaraka Mwinshehe.      

I remembered I was behind with my Mortgage and my grace period my loan with “Muiganania” had lapsed. My ramshackle Fielder was thirsty and weary from running on reserve fuel when Tullow Oil was consistently calling pressers on new oil finds. My car tires were worn out and as smooth as baby’s ass yet Naushad Merali’s manufacturing capacity for Yana tires was on an upward trajectory, with great traction and little friction.  

If I was going to folk out Ksh59, 999 for this elegant piece of technology, Kenya Orient, Kenya’s mobile phone insurance pioneer, was going to be on speed dial on a backup “Mulika Mwizi” in case the G3 was stolen, damaged or lost.
The likelihood of losing a smartphone more expensive than my rent brought memories of many heartbreaks of yore; grim flashbacks of the damage Akumu, Waithera and Amina had inflicted on my heart in the past started pouring in like a swollen torrent. 

Those moments spent on the riverbanks and on rocks with my two hands on my chin sunken in loneliness after I received a letter from my high school sweetheart saying we were no longer an item because she saw me grinning sheepishly at Carol.

I remembered how I used to reach for my smartphone to view photos of Akumu’s voluptuous figure only to remember she had “unfriended” me on Facebook  and I was at the time using a “Mulika Mwizi.” I had in fact lost my smartphone while in a drunken stupor as I tried to drown the loneliness and memories of her down the oblivion river.   

I resolved that if I put forward a convincing case to win this lady in red, I would not only put a ring on her finger, but also insure the envisioned Ksh100, 000 ring in case I was to re-live desertion and denial of critical rights all over again. I also resolved to insure the G3 with Orient Mobile, if I purchased the prized gadget.          

But I feared not for Orient Mobile prompt compensation or the lack of it; or the possible loss of this damsel in future, I feared for the chap who was in this lady’s life and had not put a ring on her finger. The requisite emotional down payment for securing his future with her was just a ring and she had none.

I feared for him because I had finally cracked a strategy to weave my endless yarns around her.   My voice:  You're so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line. I'm sorry; I don't think we've met. I wouldn't forget a pretty face like that.” To be continued……