Wild venturing to the dentist’s

t42015 is only 5 months away. Just let that sink in. I’m still not fat and having dentological issues. Some things we can’t understand. First, my eyes decided they’ve had enough of seeing all the nudity around town (I’m in myopia spectacles by the way) then now my tooth. I just broke a tooth. Not just a tooth. A precious one. A molar. Molars are the most patient of all teeth because they get all the hard things and pound on them for such a long time. Maybe I’m evolving to a zombie. I’m not scared. That’d be FUN! I’ll only get worried when my mouth gives up. Otherwise life continues.


Just recently I went to the dentist. This should have already awakened you to the fact that this was a special case. I wouldn’t visit a dentist unless she was my girlfriend. But teeth forced me to. We men are fascinated by things we don’t really understand. It gives us something to think and talk about: like females, they just drive us nuts. That’s why I think all teeth are females. Teeth are hard to understand. You just wake up one day and they’re throbbing mercilessly; as if they exchanged roles with my heart.

So this started 2 weeks ago. I bought a piece of roast maize at Agony Hill and while I was edging the life skillfully away from the cob, a piece of maize shell tried to elude agony by hiding between my molars. Just that. Of course I spent a whole day trying to seduce the damn midget out of his safe house. Then that caused an irritation in the gums. But in just two days, that slight grimace in pain sharpened to a knife stab. After 3 days, the Spartans were fighting in my mouth. Get it now? Very woman like. In just 3 days something dwarf had been blown up to something bordering atrocities against humanity.

t2You should have seen me after that. I tried everything. I always do, before I decide to go and pour out a problem to another man, called a dentist. Never mind. It’s the normal man ego issues. I tried to talk to my molar. I even gave her a name. I called her Gacugwa. ‘Gacugwa please, you’re the only notification on my facebook. I trust you, I know you’ll cooperate.’ Gacugwa didn’t budge. She’d decided enough was enough. After all the turmoil she’d been through from grinding Mama Awinja’s hard boiled maize at Club 36 to frequent and consistent exposure to roadside ngumus and hard-baked simsim, she was eventually breaking up with me.

I even remembered reading somewhere about something called a sweet tooth. I talked to Gacugwa. I told her she’s the sweetest tooth I’ve ever had. But she was then breaking all the ‘utensils’ in my ‘mouth’. I bought her ice cream to cool down the pain and glucose for some sweetening effect, but hey, it was ‘dude I’m done with you’. The sudden dip in Gacugwa’s loyalty left me utterly in disbelief. It was so abrupt than any drop in stock prices could do. Huh? It was then that I had to do the inevitable. If roses are black, violets are black, you’re blind. That’s what I came to. I made the decision that I’d give her up. I’d allow her to ditch me and go see another man; the dentist. Then I’d leave her there with her new man; maybe for their happy ever after. Please take a tissue and weep with me.


t3I’m not done yet. I couldn’t even remember the last trip I made to a dentist. Maybe no trip at all. I even didn’t know the charges. Infact I was vehemently broke. When I run short of money, I start thinking very irrationally, like what if I didn’t spend those coins I bought some lassie hamburger with? No. I don’t lose money chasing women; I chase money. Story for another day though. But it hit me that I should have been charged for money-laundering. That simply means I had my wallet in my jeans and I put my jeans in the washer with the laundry. That squished all last week’s budget into juice. There I was with only a thousand note and a Bebapay Card loaded with only a hundred shillings. That way, I set off to the dentist’s place at Doonholm unbeknownst that I’d sing hot funk there.

Standing at the bus stop, I avoided all Umoinner buses. Kenyans being the superstitious lot; it takes a few tongues wagging to cast a fictitious myth in stone. The pal who’d directed me to Doonholm insisted I avoid these; ‘they don’t want your money, they want your blood’. “Why don’t they go to the blood-bank?” I wondered literally because I’d donated litres of my red froth there. I spot an old beaten up ‘city grandfather’ in which I sank in a seat right behind the dere. The seat here is normally hot; let me just say my butt cheeks were baked. In such a bus you just smile at the old people to show them you’re not a thug. No youngies in there.

It wasn’t hard to trace the place. A Dr. Malanda Office Suite No. 23. The somewhat ominous solitude of the place had unleashed ataristic fears in my mind. I was afraid. A cold wind sprang up suddenly, chilling me to the bone. The cleavage at the reception was a Ms. Sandra. It’s hard to resist staring at a woman’s nyosh especially if you’re a man and she’s revealing a bit of it. But as Jerry Seinfeld puts it; looking at cleavage is like looking at the sun. You don’t stare at it. It’s too risky. You get a sense of it then you look away. It happened thus to me.

Sandra offered me a seat. The toothache’s gone worse but I always play tough when a damsel’s around. She tells me the dentist should check-in in five minutes. He doesn’t. I’m sick of all the lies. I complain. She asks me whether I think I’m going to die. Don’t you just hate it when you’re mad at someone and they just make you laugh? I do the math and gauge her as inviting a flirty fling. It looks like she’s so idle here. Unbridled freedom is often a recipe for illicit hanky-panky. I maintain a religious ‘no’ in my stance and concentrate on the motion pictures on the screen right above her head.

An old man with a crude stare arrived. The dentist! We were both soon holed up in his quarter, narrating to him that every time I plan to go on a diet of no-sweet-foods, my food says ‘Lol no’. ‘Open wide’ he grinned mischievously in a way that would’ve been weird if I was feminine. Thoughts of how did I even turn into such a perv don’t coax the pain away. ‘Looks bad, I’m taking her.’ That pain slithered right from my mouth down to my lower abdomen and shot out as hot pee. Simply, right now I can’t speak. I just gurgle like a toddler.


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