Wobble! Wobble!

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I rarely go into the CBD during the day unless while running errands which does not happen that often. Nairobi city only knows me in low light. Moments when darkness and I become one. It was while on one of these errand days that I saw her. It was just past Nation center, near the Equity and Co-operative bank ATMs. By the time I noticed her she was outside the Safaricom shop. She had locked her arms with one of two girls who appeared to be her friends. She laughed as if she had no care in the world, despite everything else in her betraying the thought. Maybe it was a mask, Nairobians own those in plenty.

Unlike the notion of elegance that she was expected or supposed to portray Head held high, chin up and a smile that would be sweet and mysterious all in one. I was walking behind her, so I have no idea what her smile said. But she laughed. Taking short strides to save herself the embarrassment of tripping and becoming one with the earth. Her friend’s support seemed to boost her esteem to an extent. She had on green pencil pants, blue chiffon top and had her glasses laying on her wanna be hair extensions (it was not human hair, I can tell plastic when I see it). Classy, right?

She was not exactly walking, it looked more like a wobble and not the kind in the Jamaican raga videos. No. It was more like a newly born gazelle that was struggling to support its own weight. Yes she wobbled and wobbled then wobbled some more. Her left, almost 6 inch heel was failing her the more. It couldn’t just stay up straight. She kept wobbling on as one of her friends tried to support her.

I have heard my issues with these shoes that I think to an extent, were invented to torture in the name of beauty and elegance. They can kill you. Especially if you fall in my category where kicks and converse shoes rock. I kept wondering why she had not decided to just buy some nice ngoma rubbers from the Bata just down the street. Why kill yourself some more. Well maybe she didn’t have money much as she ended up in Kaldis, which if you know is not exactly cheap. I felt sorry for her friend for I doubt this is a burden she had prepared for. With the words of J.cole ringing in my head, “Killing yourself to find a man that will kill for you” it’s suicide alright.

This incident reminded me of a lady I once saw cross the street from the Sarova Stanley to Kimathi house, in what I could have sworn was more than two minutes. Slow so as not to hurt herself. And for a second I wondered, why? And the only answer I had was ‘’Why Not?”

For all I know, both ladies were probably very okay with the shoes and it pretty much did not affect my kicks and I. My advice would be, become the stereotype, always have an extra pair of shoes in your bag.