WASIJE TENA – the longest battle with mosquitoes

Head left. Mosquitoes. Head right. More mosquitoes. Duvet over my face. Choke. Pull it down. Very many Mosquitoes. Get under the sheets. Mosquito.

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kuoobiediaries hate mosquitoes

I ALWAYS ENSURE I do not sleep with mosquitoes in my room, less in bed. But yesterday, waliniweza nami pia nikawatenda.

Ice cream for the loudest

Being so lazy and full, I had forgotten to close my window and swarms of swarms of those little creatures had made my room their hive. And I couldn’t sleep. Yet all I wanted after a hectic day was to purr and snore. For a moment it felt like my eardrums would get sore.

Ever had jokes of mosquitoes being in love with human ears? Believe me, they are true. But why the ears? Some even tried to get into my nose! Guess these are the few cases one would wish to get a cold with a very heavy sneeze.

Head left. Mosquitoes. Head right. More mosquitoes. Duvet over my face. Choke. Pull it down. Very many Mosquitoes. Get under the sheets. Mosquito. It rests on my nose. Hard slap. Miss. Nose hurts. Open sheet to let it out. More mosquitoes get in. I hate mosquitoes.

Remove your straw from my tea cup!

So, perhaps I better explain why I hate mosquitoes invading my privacy so much. When I first moved into this room, there were only two mosquitoes… [ not that I move in and out regularly, or repeatedly]. It was my initial entry.

And it took me two days of hide and seek looking for those two creatures, till I laid them to rest. Then closed my windows – only opening them from 10:00 AM to 4 o’clock in the evening. And it had remained that way.

So when they choose to enter where they shouldn’t. . . I’m bound to remind them to read the signs on the wall.

And a beat to the fanciest

see a mbu, shoot!
shoot them down, 🙂

I may enjoy hard rock, crack, ohangla, but never a mosquitoes’ whining… hata uzigeuze marage ukazikaanga kwa nazi. What I did next is only for the mad men to recommend.

Closed the window and turned the lights on. Then I took my towel and made the free end wet. This is the sort of game boys played in boarding schools. I would have tied soap to the wet end but I was being merciful.

A swing and a hit. A swing. A hit. No misses.

Sasa we ndio umepata dawa yao, ata hii doom yangu siku izi ni kama hawa wadudu wamezoea…

That’s all folks…

And if at all any of you ever wished to be a mosquito, in any stage of your life… never fly into my room. Remember that. Unless you want to decorate my walls. 🙂

Author: biko

A story monger; keen to pick on the details as he goes about it all. He finds fun in making the written feel like it was just spoken. So to say sarcasm and reality often race in between his lines, one slightly outrunning the other - pick your take.

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