I call it relaxing.  Spending long idle hours doing nothing but watching National Geographic Wild channel on Multi Choice’s DSTV and learning about wildlife and nature, or watching replays of our national soccer team’s defeat in some little known former Portuguese colony of an Island, but also sometimes being totally absentminded immersed in the past, glorious and ignominious, imagining about the future without a job in such an advanced age and the like.
That’s me, nowadays, at home sweet home with AmakePachikani!
Of course it gives me more time to appreciate her beauty and make use of it.   Tell you, you people, this woman is wonderfully made.  You have to know her to appreciate what I am saying.
If you are a man, you must be holier than the Pope to ignore her.  The other categories who can ignore her looks are imbeciles and lunatics.  Maybe the blind and the stupid too!
If you are none of the above, you will notice, whether you like it or not, that my wife is good looking.  All round for that matter!  So yes nowadays I find time to stare at her behind, stare at her curvy hips, stare at her lovely round breasts and most of all appreciate her sweet innocent happy smile which reminds you of a baby.
Yes, happy I said.  She is not like you who start crying and cursing when you are going through difficult times like a job loss.  She says people should give thanks to God in all circumstances.
When your landlord loses patience with you and finally has had to slap you in irritation, according to my wife’s philosophy, you turn the other cheek, encourage him to slap there as well, thank him, thank God for this landlord and the slap, and then forgive him and life goes on,
full of smiles!
Crying makes you ugly and you grow wrinkles and thus age faster she says.  So in her kingdom, to which I have been invited, presided over by the eternal Jehovah, you rarely cry unless it is an
expression of joy.
On one occasion, I couldn’t resist that innocent happy look on her face or those lovely curves and the behind showing maximum quality in a nylon nightie I just planted huge kisses on her so unexpectedly she disentangled herself, a little breathless and in a bit of shock.
“Uh-uh, nicinjimweo (What is it)?” she asked.  Mwalyacinjimzubazuba (What have you eaten so early in the day)?” the joking suggestion being that men normally chew some things in readiness for the evening acrobatics in bed, things like the famous mtototo and nyang’anya, the
recently famed 7 hours which you get on the open street market corners of Lusaka, or the ujikiujiki I once tasted in east Africa.
Of course I hadn’t eaten any such thing.  It was just that I had more time to myself with my wife and it allowed me chance to appreciate her, to accept that I had actually married a gem and perhaps I had even been underutilising her services and was lucky she was still around after I had misconducted myself so badly so many times including turning up home with a used condom intact on my body!
“You look nice, sweet…!” I retorted, a little breathless.  Come on, give us a kiss.  I was being as persuasive as I could be because the emotion of love was so deep in that short instant I truly wanted to kiss her again.
She obliged and only started to resist when she noticed I was trying to lean her on her back on the sofa.
“Uh-uh imwe, pa sitting room 11hours tiyambovulana (Hey hey, you want us to start undressing each other in the lounge at 11hours)?” she protested.
“Does it matter?” I argued, suddenly filled with such desire for my wife.  There is just you and I here ? besides it will be great fun to… to… in awkward places like right here…even on the floor there!”
“Mulekevakulyakulyandabamukakatetubanatwabenengatineokuliye (You should stop taking aphrodisiacs because you will end up raping other people’s children when I am not around)!”
I had not eaten anything so there was no cause for undue alarm.  I rarely find any use for those things anyway.  I am still a vibrant middle aged man, not yet afflicted by the infirmities that apply sliding tackles on men as they age and cause them embarrassment or spasms of anger in front of naked, willing female partners.
Yes I amtold it happens quite a lot where elderly men can convince Miss Zambia
to a shindig in the privacy of a presidential suite at some top range hotel but after all the splendour of the expensive wines, and when the lady is totally chaffed and subdued, our elderly man suffers a “power failure.
Am told such men develop furious tempers you must keep your distance after any such failure.  It’s not so much the humiliation of being exposed for what they are… old, getting finished and sexually unreliable that angers them… it is the lost opportunity with Miss Zambia, after spending the equivalent of a security guard’s pension in one afternoon (in vain) that touches their ego to the point where the office orderly back at the office gets slapped for innocently
delivering a bill from the law firm which must be paid in seven days
or else…!
“What the hell…?” he shouts glaring at the office orderly …”You brought this? this thing!  Who told you…(he is so incoherent)… why did you get it … I mean why did you bring it NOW and not tomorrow?? He walks angrily to the orderly, then unexpectedly, MBAMA (slaps the poor
fellow and screams) “OUUUUUT!”
I am told that’s what the so called power failures can do to desperate
elderly men.
Thank God I am not yet in this age group of grumpy aging fellows.  In fact I wish my wife knew the nasty experiences people have had with aphrodisiacs!  I fear them.  If you remember we once were admitted at the University Teaching Hospital with Stakes “Girls” Chitambo after swallowing some such stuff at the office and developing diarrhea!
Then you probably remember too that “Girls” was once put in a position of permanent readiness for-you-know-what after differing with a quack who had sold him such stuff.  I just wanted my wife in mid-morning.
No aphrodisiacs, no mtototo, no Congo dust, nothing! You see these Congo Dust things hahahahaaaa! I heard a story from our ever-story-telling friend DunduzaKamlazaat the Hangover LayBy Bar in Avondale about a man who bought Congo Dust from a lady along the
corridors of Freedom Way in Lusaka and who insisted on testing the stuff on the vendor.
“This stuff sir, you just rub it on the… (she gave the details which are a bit uncomfortable for a public newspaper)… give it 45 minutes then swing into action! Ooooooh sir, mzashimika (you will narrate about its effects) elomzabwelafuti (and you will come for more)!” she
persuaded and assured.
The man said if he could test the Congo Dust on her, with her, and it worked the wonders she was talking about, he would buy the whole stock she had off her.  The woman was surprisingly willing and enthusiastic to be tested on.
She wasn’t the neatest looking woman but for some reason, this client was equally keen on doing the deed on the vendor of the dust.
Du Kamlaza had all of us roaring with laughter when he told us that the man, after religiously following the instructions, managed only 50 per cent energy levels, by far less than his regular ones which he successfully achieved without the help of mitototo!
“Look madam,” he lamented, “your Congo Dust has just reduced the man in me!  I do wonders without these things but look at me now!  I am a real man, I tell you madam not this …this… what you have seen here!”
But it was ok, sir, she said.  I thought all went well anyway.
This?!  Ok, thiiiis? Madam, when did you last have… I mean… ok but this was not me for sure.”
And, according to Du, 24 hours later, the client was at a private clinic reporting himself to the Doc over some infection on the vital statistics which needed to be disinfected!  Congo Dust, Nyanganya or whatever?  Not me.  Not yet at least!
I forced my wife onto her back on the sofa. “Come on,” I urged, “be happy that I want you even during awkward hours like this.  I haven’t eaten anything.  You?(I was panting)? are
?haah (kiss) mmmm… just beau…ti…aah…ful…!” I was kissing her over and over again.  Who said dismissals can never be positive?
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