Over the next few weeks I’ll be writing about some of my adventures while traveling around the country. Today I’m gonna talk about something totally crazy that I’ll probably never try again, a Gondolosi smoothie. Please do not try this at home and most importantly, don’t tell my mother.
My old college roommate recently got kicked out of his house for drinking tea wamkaka outside the house so he came to stay with me for a while to get his head straight (I know… I’m not a good specimen for inspiration). A few days later, I had a small work trip to Blantyre and we thought it wise for him to tag along on the road trip and have a little fun while he’s still temporarily single. So there we were, Dem Boyz were back together, on the road, up to no good. At that time, it seemed like a really nice idea, but now I’m not so sure.
Right at the onset, the trip was full of shit. We started off at Area 18B Watatu with One Heineken each, and made an almost immediate stopover at Bwandilo to get more booze. Little did I know that my friend bought himself 2 rolls on Non-Indistrial Hemp (knaaaw mean?!). An hour and half later, we were cruising past Masasa entering Ntcheu District (the foul smell of Mpambira lingering in the air) when my friend let loose on me about the kind of habits that got him kicked out of the house; he had developed a very particular set of non-conventional habits between the sheets which his wife objected to, so he ended up having affair after affair, looking for a dame who would tolerate his fetish. The whole world knows that I’m not the kinda person to offer good advice on anything to do with relationships, but somehow this Albert Einstein took me for the Love Guru and sought my counsel, which I kindly gave;
Dude, You’re gonna be fine, you guys just needed a break from all his marriage bull. Take that ring off and have as much sex as you can before your wife forgives you and calls you back!
I was expecting a laugh and objection, but there was none to be had, my friend had taken my joke too seriously, there was an awkward 5 minute silence, and I thought I had offended him. I opened my mouth to offer my apologies, but before I could utter a word, my said…. Fuck it, let’s do this then! Then he took off his ring…. It was game on! I had succeeded in coaxing my married old roommate back into my world….
Hell hath no Nyere like a married man on a night out.
When we stopped over at Lizulu-Ntcheu to get some veggies for my folks in Blantyre, the man of the moment ordered some 3 sticks of Gondolosi, 1 sachet of powdered gondolosi and 1 other powder called Nganganga (apparently, one dose keeps your stick fully upright well into the 6th round). My friend had gone into Beast Mode right before my eyes! The phone calls started rolling out, I was buzzing every BIU chick in my phonebook, trying to get set for the night’s proceedings, and sure enough, dinner was secured by the time we reached Ntcheu. There was so much to look forward to in Blantyre, so much that stopping over to pay homage to Mpambira seemed like the gayest thing a guy can do, so we just proceeded to Blantyre, but not before stopping over at Lunzu where my friend went inside the market and came back with some strange tiny brown balls about the size of Mibulu ya msima yophika batchala (Lack of a better reference).
In Blantyre, we pitched our tent at a cheap lodge then set out to claim our dinner, somewhere in Naperi, where a naïve, low-esteemed, barely legal bimbo were waiting for us… and our booze. The one thing that I hated about the girl was her desire to keep up appearances. She sanitized our language and demanded that my friend should chew some mint first in order for her to call one of her friends for my friend, but all hunters need to learn to be patient, so we obliged. The night went smoothly for the four of us, until the ladies got drunk and touchy. We knew that the time would come to let the dogs out.
Having considerable experience as a Chidyamakanda, I know all too well that a Blend of Gilbey’s Gin and Lime can turn the churchest puritan into the Chez-est (Mtemba) slut, and you can get away with a lot of things, but when my friend decided to test-drive a conversation about Gondolosi, I felt that we were treading a very fine line, my girl got cranky and withdrawn. She might have liked the idea, but I had been sleeping with this girl for some time, so by my inner psychologist calculated that she didn’t want to seem too interested because it would come out as disrespectful to me. My buddy’s girl was borderline stoned at this point and she said the craziest thing out of the woods;
I want to know what it feels like to take a Gondolosi dick! People make so much noise about it!
Voila! The genie in the Gilbey’s bottle had granted my buddy a wish, out flew one Gondolosi stick from the pocket to the mouth. Even by my standards, this was one step too bold, I expected to be kicked out of the room, but the girls burst out into laughter. My roommate’s game was on point, I reminded myself never to mess with a married man on a one night visa. I don’t know how my girl got into the groove of all this, but fast forward a few minutes, my friend had pulled out all the weird things that he had bought en route. A blender was borrowed from the neighbor’s house and some fruits were peeled. We were making a Gondolosi smoothie! A fucking Gondolosi Smoothie! I was hesitant, but the grin on my girl’s face made me echo my friend’s earlier words; Fuck it, let’s do this!
The blend was simple. Expertly created by my friend;
- Two parts Gondolosi
- One part Chiswabumbu
- One part Nganganga
- One part timibulu ta mlomwe wa pa Lunzu
- Quarter parts non-industrial hemp
- One parts any fruits of choice
- Five parts Gilbey’s Gin.
The final result was actually an impressive-looking smoothie, but we took a minute before gathering the courage to taste it. The drink was strictly for the men of course, so me and my buddy had quite a lot to drink, but we scaled it down soon enough. Needless to say, the girls had their eyes popping out, not wanting to miss a minute of what was expected to come. The timing was perfect, because we had run out of booze, and the anticipation of the result made the tiny room feel weird. I have always been reluctant to believe in these “local” remedies, but I must say, I had never had a headache-causing erection until that day. We had mixed so many ingredients so I can’t really be sure which one was working, but at least one of them was working!
Before drinking the concoction, we had made an agreement with the girls that if it worked, each of us would proceed to “human trials”. Perhaps the girls did not expect much, but the out-of-control bulge on my pants spelt trouble for them. My goon took his girl and disappeared. He had a lot of weird bedroom stories to tell the following morning, most were borderline lies and exaggerations, but I was forced to believe them, because I had quite an experience too, since my teenage days, that was the first time that I had managed to last the entire 90 minutes and take the game to penalties… And still win. In fact the opposition had to stroke my trophy and pop my champagne to cool me down.
There’s no moral to this story, it’s just a rant, but it’s true. I was hoping to end this story with my roommate’s family back together… but what the heck, I don’t do happy endings. Roomie, if you are reading this… well, I told the whole world… next time I may just mention your name. hahaha.
Buy a condom. These hoes ain’t loyal.