Lunch Theatrics!

Magaidi
Lunch time at the office can present seemingly difficult transitional moments from humdrum mornings to bleak afternoons. I tell you the consortium congregates at the kitchen microwave, which I have complained endlessly that 2 microwaves for 150 people is just plain indecent, insulting and irrational. And if the one of them breaks down, well get used to chewing your lunch cold. I know anyone who works in an office building knows about those microwaves.Some folks have this knack for boiling weeds and insects, add spices and claim to have had a meal. “Is that your broiled broccoli and sautéed onions?” one asks, “no it’s 'General Chao’s mix’ with a little curry, noodles and baked kaorifrower (cauliflower)” the shorter one with a heavy accent replies. To me it smells like something died two months ago and was fried. I tell them wake up and smell the friggin coffee gad-danit!. Each weekday I contemplate on introducing them to beef, pork, chicken or something, to break the monotony of that other nig nog they chew.

I usually make sure I wait atleast 10 minutes after these good folk have left the kitchen area mostly due to the smell they leave around that vicinity having heated their (ahem!) food. I microwave my ugali, mokimo, irio or chaps.Mostly leftovers from the attempted cooking I performed the night before. I think I’ll make a great chef once I get my own digoloz but that’s down the road. Soon after I’m done, get my can of soda and head back to my desk indulge myself in what the blogsphere has to offer.This is the part that irritates me: Now while digging into my ugali and what we like to think as sukumawiki a curious old dude passes by, smells the food approaches. “What’s that?” he ask sheepishly and without hesitation continue to answer himself, “shepherd’s pie?”

Ok...Shepherd’s pie? For crying out loud!

This is a dilemma for a miro. Should I say yes? And send him on his merry way? I mean, how many times can a falaa explain what ugali is? Ebu try explaining what mokimo is to a junguu and you get the idea. So I say

“Yes! It’s shepherd’s pie”,

“It looks different, did you make it?”

“No someone else did”

“You know I usually put….”

So the dude continues on and on about how he makes shepherd’s pie. I Couldn’t care less but I’m somehow inclined to listen, or fake attention maybe think about how crooked his nose is, or those tobacco stained teeth or the slur in his speech..(“sssshhhhheepherdssshh pie is ssshooo..ssshhhwweeet..”)
Somewhere in between my daydream he’s done and on his merry way. I figure someone on the other end has something that smells out the ordinary. Can’t I just have my ugali and eat it? In peace?