Section 71 is going a hundred miles an hour
Nsansa said “Amuti? Landeni panono panono… please speak slowly.” And, with a shuddery shake of the head, “Lordy gordy, I don’t speak hundridmileanhour.” Placing the lasagne she’d bought in front of him, and rotating the oversize salad spoons creatively, she mimed in slow motion, a very slow train. “Mwati… shani… say it again… slowly”.
Vernon sighed.”Banjeleleko mukwai, excuse me please. I, I’ve been approached by a School in Thailand. In Bangkok. They want an ethics teacher. I’m not going to Africa. What do you think?”
Nsansa got up again from the table and began mincing around; sticking both of the salad utensils into her ample hair, and looking like a negro geisha she said “Me kathoey; you like?”
Vernon grimaced, none the wiser, and picked the wispy pieces of salad out of his beard. “Nice. What do you think? About Thailand?”
With an unmistakably sincere grin Nsansa replied, “I liked it. We should go.”
To Vernon’s surprise Nsansa began to sing using the oh so versatile salad spoons for percussion. “Kabiye kukuso, kabiye kukulyo, kabiye kuntanshi, Kabiye Kulyaaaa. Go to, the left, go to, the right, go-o forward, go the-ere.” Irrepressible and infectious as she was, Vernon joined the carnival.
The carnival continued after they’d eaten, while they listened inattentively to Snow Patrol and then as he chased her up the stairs playfully with the artefacts-of-the-evening.
“I have a long reach with these” Vernon laughed breathlessly, snapping them like jaws and closing the gap between them. They tumbled into the bedroom together and shed their clothes rapidly as if on fire. And so they were…
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