By Bernard Wainaina
There is something I have been meaning to get off my chest for the last three years, but for some reason, whenever I sit down to write about it, I end up writing about something else.
This time round, however, nothing will derail me, so allow me to tell you what happened to me many years ago.
A squeaky bed is quite irritating and awkward.
You don’t have to alert your neighbours every time you are engaging in bedroom gym activities.
I was only two months into my first job after college when I moved into a new flat.
I was not enthusiastic about the move — if you have ever moved house, you know how hectic it is, it can be a headache-inducing affair.
However, the move was absolutely necessary; therefore I grinned and took it like a man — at least the flats were new, so we would not have to go through the unpleasant job of scrubbing and sterilising the toilet and bathroom.
Like any other reasonable co-tenant in an apartment, I would mute the TV, radio, and anything else that needed muting after 10.00pm in the night.
I also closed the windows, and abstained from opening the kitchen or bathroom tap, tiptoe, and open doors in slow motion. Yes,but I now see it; I was a difficult person to live with then …
Anyway, I managed to move without breaking a glass, and by evening, all the necessary items had been unpacked and put in their respective place.
Poor me!I was so exhausted; I must have fallen into a deep dreamless slumber a second after dropping into my bed — only for loud screeching and thumping to rudely wake me up about three hours later.
In my confusion, I thought someone had broken into the house, but once the cobwebs of sleep cleared, I realised that the commotion was coming from somewhere above me.
A few more seconds of the rude sounds and it finally dawned on me that my bedroom ceiling was someone else’s bedroom floor.
What is the standard furniture in bedrooms — beds and wardrobes, right?
Since we do not sleep in wardrobes, then you know what was making those ungodly noises at 3a.m…
I almost wept with frustration, because I knew there was no way I could go back to sleep with all that commotion, but even worse, because I knew that it was just a matter of time before that rocking bed planted sinful thoughts into my “innocent” mind.
Sure enough, it did, and my dear sleep was gone,for eternity till dawn.
Dear readers, the creaking bed upstairs had mercy on me about 20 minutes later (not that I was counting) and by then, I was ready to storm upstairs and haul the randy couple out of
It took me no less than two hours to go back to sleep, but by then, my neighbours were getting up, so there was a lot of slamming of doors and
footsteps moving back and forth.
The following night, the affectionate couple was at it again at 3 a.m., and the routine of me and my irritable son was repeated once again.
Though I was tempted several times, I restrained myself from marching upstairs to tell my active neighbours to buy a new
bed. Instead, I embarked on looking for another house to rent in earnest.
By the end of that month; I was out of there, hopeful that my next upstairs neighbours had a firmer bed.
Lucky for me, they did.
My fellow Kenyans, when someone mentions the word investment, most of us picture farms,plots and rental houses.
I beseech you, whatever big project you plan to invest your hard-earned money on this year, if your bed groans whenever you turn, and you live in a flat, please, first invest in a new bed, a firm bed — you could just have preserved the sanity of a lonely and unattached single man downstairs!
“The African Story as told by Africans”.©African News Digest®