I was raised in a small village, so when I got the opportunity to travel to Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University in South Africa for my undergraduate I became an instant celebrity. Back then any opportunity to travel abroad was a struck of gold. It presented a new environment, new people, new culture, new experiences, everything was paradise at least from the picture painted by the media diasporas.
But of course, hailing from a middle-class family, not sure how the scaling came about, financial difficulties soon caught up with me. As a result, I took up part time jobs to help pay a few bills and maintain a moderate social class in campus.
So I worked as a waitress in one fancy restaurant. Good thing about waitressing, you were able to boost your income just from tips, and if you were even more lucky you can land yourself a good and wealth bachelor who would sweep your feet off poverty.
It didn’t come easy but, on this day, luck forced its way on me. I happened to serve this guy. Not that he was handsome, nothing striking about his appearance, in fact he was way older than I was so he scored really low on my dating score card. But he was loaded, I imagined because he left a handsome tip, and even slipped his business card on the billing wallet. There was no way I was going to be romantically involved with this guy, but if I was offered a golden goose it would be foolish to turn it down.
Long story short- it didn’t take long before I was booked a flight to Joburg. I landed at O. R Tambo International airport, there was a chauffeur to whisk Queen Sheba to meet King Solomon. Man, I was feeling high and mighty. We got to his mansion, and it was beautiful, squeaky clean and modern. Only needed a woman’s touch. Conversations were easy and we wined and dined into the night.
Everything was subtle apart from his occasional terrible cough. It was wet, chronic and sounded like thunder. You can imagine the phlegm and saliva in between, gross! He explained that it was a result of a cold that he was treating, but I concluded that he had the ‘disease’. Not that I am judging, I read about the statistics in SA and by no means would I submit my youthful life to a lifetime of pills. I refused!
Of course I knew, this guy would not let me enjoy a peaceful night by myself. No worries I came prepared. My trick was to fake a seizure just before bedtime, it has worked before and I trusted my acting skills would deliver a stand in ovation performance tonight.
And I it worked! You should have seen how he was totally stunned, unable to move at first. Then he regained his composure, trying to think about what to do. The more the tried to touch me the more I convulsed. Until he left and came back with a cell phone. Oh God, he prayed. He kept mumbling, ‘Oh Lord, don’t let this be fatal.” And kept on fighting the idea of calling for help. Just when he finally about to make the call, I calmed down.
Slowly I explained to him this wild story about a how in back home in Kenya, my grandmother gave me a pendulant as a gift, 'juju'. It was a charm for protection and favour. And every time I left it behind I would get seizures. I told him how I had fallen heels for him and I didn’t want to charm him that is way I did not carry the pendulant with me. Not sure he bought the story, but at least there wasn’t going to be any hanky punky for the night.
And that is how I bought my way to sleeping alone in the guest bedroom. The next day, he arranged for a trip back to Cape Town. He also gave me a considerable amount of 5000 Rand to appease the gods. Oh! I love the smell of money. We promised to try again next time, for me the game would go on until he realizes I am just in for the money
I guess I thought I had won. And immediately I landed in Cape Town, I didn’t even think of going back to my place. I went straight to my neighbor and friend Peggy. Reader, please keep a mental memory of Peggy, because she will come up again in future. Immediately I stepped into her house, I called the guy and reported I had arrived home safely, and we agreed on another trip over the weekend. After the call, I flaunted the money. I shaked, waved and fanned the bundle of cash, threw on Peggy’s bed ordering her to count as I proceeded to the toilet to relieve myself.
While I was doing my business, my ancestors warned me that Peggy is snooping my phone. But I didn’t do anything about it. All I know is I never heard again from golden goose guy, and the next thing I knew Peggy was flying to Joburg! I guess karma is a bitch and girlfriends are foes!
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