Neighbour’s wife finds husband’s missing clothes in my bedroom

In this first installment of Sean Oseku's escapades with his neighbour's wife, he brings you how he was caught red handed with clothes he had 'lifted' from the clothesline.

HUMOUR | Sean Oseku’s escapade with his neighbour’s wife would lead many a Bryan Isiko straight to Luzira Prison via Buganda Road Court but for now he gets away with it.

She had fairly a big bust – please pardon me; what I meant was the fine round melons that sit on her chest – eclectic hips and some fine back side to leave any man pocketing. Her face was quite plain and nothing so much to write home about her beauty. Her waist with a wasp-like frame and sluggish but almost sexy walk to keep any human eye glued to the rhythmic gyration of her finely precast anatomy. That’s my Neighbour’s wife.

My uncanny friend, Jethro, always referred to her as “local talent”. We always watched her strut around the compound, like some sort of football scouts on a hunting mission to convince some European club to sign her up. Even the ‘boda boda’ riders in the hood whistle whenever she steps out to the nearby shops to buy groceries for her home.

Sendo Cleaners

At least it was confirmation that me and Jethro were not the only red bloodied humans with great sight to see the what heaven had sent to earth.

Her hubby is more like an iPhone; easily described as not user-friendly. Not pleasantries whatsoever, or better still be a man and ask how Liverpool had been beaten by SC Villa in the El Clasico the previous years (don’t even dare argue with me, yes you reading this).

Dude always just walked out of our compound like some chief from his chiefdom. His wife on the other hand, seemed like some android, (works with many apps and chargers) but approaching her for a chit chat was out of the question, she always had earphones plugged in her ear lobes, meaning ‘faa ku madala gwo’ loosely translated, “Mind yo F*** business”

Days past without a word to her and Jethro’s only input was to tell me to ‘chill’ her because if I tried, I would push her away, I needed to be a little proud and let her come by herself. A month went by and no word or sign that I will ever get a chance to holla at my Neighbour’s wife.

Another two months past and I had to ‘allow’ that it’s never gonna happen. Anyway my laundry lady, Mama Safina, used to be my companion. She would do the laundry while narrating to me stories about men in the village and their conquests and who was doing who. But dodged my questions when I asked about Baba Safina, she would go mute and tell me to concentrate.

One thing about my relationship with Mama Safina was that she was free in my house and had away she dressed while doing her chores, she would remove her clothes and remain in a ‘lesu’ wrapped at her neck to just above the knees, that when she stood at the door, the light from outside would strike through her translucent lesu, her small yet curvy body would reveal.

See, an honest man would say, things went down, but let’s all just “Allow” this lie to go on. Anyway after she was done with all chores, I paid her and she left. At dusk, I went to the hanging line and picked my clothes. 20mins later, there was a knock on my door. I wasn’t expecting nobody, So I stayed silent for some minutes but the knocking continued. When I drew the curtain, it was my neighbor’s wife.

“How are you? You carried some of my clothes from the line,” she said.

I wonder which demon always attacks grown up men with beards to fail to say a word when there target finally shows up. I stayed looking at her without a word. But just muttered out some words; I don’t know what I actually said but I just saw her walk past me and straight for my bedroom (of course, it was a two-room house).

A cursory search yielded that I had carried her clothes along with mine. Actually it was her hubby’s clothes. I apologized to her but it fell on deaf ears. She rebuked me for trying to steal their clothes while stormed out, leaving me in astonishment.

Still astonished, I tried to recollect how I had carried someone else’s clothes with mine but alas. I started to think of a way to apologize to her because it wasn’t intentional for me to carry what didn’t belong to me.

I gathered my feet to her doorstep and knocked. She opened and before she could say anything, I apologized to her and as I went on and on with the so many words that didn’t make any sense to her at that moment, she simply remarked, “Nice bed but you need to lay it and try to get a better shoe rack rather than have ‘em thrown everywhere”. “Also even though it’s your house, don’t just walk almost naked, anyone can walk in”.

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