By the way, this very ridiculous piece is not about the time BigDaddyBae ate one of those scones which are disturbingly dubbed ‘ma burundi’…hell no… this is a tale about the time the biggest of daddies ‘Bae’….pause…fucked a Burundian national.
We have all seen them… yes…all chinked up in every neighborhood’s corner shop, selling ‘lucky star’ tin fish from 7am to 11pm, ever-dutiful to give the right amount of change to every jim and jack…
But have you ever considered dear reader? How your ‘hutu’ grocery keeper’s daughter satisfies her sexual needs?
This line of thinking might seem bizarre for some people but I will have y’all reminded kuti hutus and tutsis are also people…and just like any other persons in our glorious republic; their carnal activities should be pondered over, time and time again…both as a people and individually.
My long lasting fantasy has always been about these people taking a day off from running tuck shops that honest Malawians want to own and mobilizing themselves to one huge energetic orgy, a buffet where one would be accorded an array of the finest war-torn pussy to have ever escaped the Rwanda- Burundi genocides.
Whether this actually happens or not is not the subject of my account here…perhaps I’ve gotten distracted by my sexual imaginations… lets head on directly to what really occurred with BigDaddybae:
It was a beautiful Thursday in Ntcheu district, the lights had gone off around 10 in the morning and by 3 in the afternoon BigdaddyBae and friends had ditched all allegiances to office work and placed themselves in one of the hideout bottlestores scattered around Ntcheu boma…kumwa umodzi umodzi as we bitched about escom and Arsenal FC’s dismal performance in the EPL.
Now, if anyone here knows Ntcheu people, they will be assured that macheza athu amakathera kumalo okuti kuli mahule….
Magetsi akathima timakonda kuvinisa mahule, akakhala akuyaka timakonda kunyekhulira ma hule… Ntcheu people like prostitutes is my point.
Indeed on that Thursday, we found ourselves at Ntcheu Whore central: Uncle B nightclub, resthouse and restaurant.
We stood there at the counter, sipping our greens as our eyes sampled the evening’s selection…there was really nothing to write home about….just the usual…a couple of prostitutes we had already appraised…so I resorted my mind to battering my Carlsberg greens…it was not gonna be one of those nights where I would end up waking up in the morning three fingers deep in some smelly commercial vagina.
Very soon I got bored and my bones started tickling, my body’s signal to place myself on the dance floor and bust a few BigDaddyBae moves…I took two fast farts and glided my way to the dancefloor, leaving a trail of chiphwisi in my way (Hansel and Gretel style)
‘Via Orlando!!!!! Hangover!! Give me hangover!!…chani chani uko…via Orlando!!’ yes the dancefloor was lit and sure they still play that song in clubs ku ntcheu…
Then entered this tall species, pure smooth ebony, short smooth curls, white ivory teeth, standard breasts, zebra ass….eish…with a distinct smell of chips mayaye..
Now, as a rule, tall people are supposed to dance together, and since BigDaddyBae’s 6 foot frame was dwarfing all males in the room I scooted over and took my designated spot behind her…docking my thighs with her magnificent ass.
After two more songs and one huge boner we naturally found ourselves kuseli kwa uncle B ku ma urinal to talk prices and what not.
That’s when I noticed her accent and it all made sense…this product was straight outta Dzaleka..
I suppressed the social worker in me and instead shoved my free hand down her panties..and gang lemme tell you , mavuzi ama Burundi ndi ofewa!!!not your usual Lhomwe pubic hair tobaya baya tija…this was pure silk.
Anyhow …Tutchinde tutchinde!..as the Burundis would say
She charged me MK2800 and in true hutu fashion she gave me my change after I produced three MK1000 kwacha notes…
I don’t know why this happened, but as I was giving her the plough I took on the persona of a war lord…yes..she might have escaped a human genocide , but to hell if she was going to evade this vaginocide….
It was quite an interesting experience really …very educative, for starters who knew kuti not all refugees leave the camp to become respectable members of Malawian society? Ena akumapanga uhule mma bala mwathumu….koma n’zabobho…nawo ndi anthu, omakhala ndi zofooka zawo…