MY TENANT and I are not talking and it's not my fault. I know I am the only contender for the World's Worst Friend title, but this time I'm innocent. Like Jackie Selebi, I declare: "These hands are clean!"
I'm so stain-free, they should have named me Innocentia. No, blame it on her hormonal treatment. It's the craziest thing ever. Her treatment is making her condition worse. Pretty much like people who balloon when they are on a diet and kids who become even more hyper when you starve them of sugar.
We never even got a chance to discuss possibilities, but today I can definitely look back and laugh. I'm sure she's still harbouring ill feelings. Perhaps you would side with her. It's not as if she planned the whole thing, right?
She and my prowling cousin went on a double date and she ended up kissing my cousin's date.
I almost feel myself falling into the deep, dark, cold traps of depression when I imagine how I would have poisoned her tea had she done that to me. They call it istina (a brick on the head) for the impact it has on an otherwise fine head.
Now my cousin is stalking this guy. Ask her why she does it and she says: "I've gone crazy, I think." The guy says it's their problem. He says he's no one's love of her life.
"Hey, I was just kicking it with her," he says in his fake American accent and all I want to do is spill coffee all over his white shirt.
"It takes two to tango, both the tenant and the fake American are to blame," says my other forever-stating-the-obvious friend. No one asked.
All I said was that if she initiated it, which she did judging by how she asked about destiny, then she is a dog.
Women have an unwritten law of keeping their claws off the women who found their men first. Even those in unconventional relationships understand only too well the law of not stepping on the turf of the man who saw the other first.
So what Bible should be written for people like my tenant? She says that the issues are between my cousin and her and that I should refrain from sending threatening text messages.
"Tenants have rights, you know!" says my sister.
"Landladies have the advantage you know?" I say taking the glass of my expensive red wine from her bickering mouth.
It doesn't make a difference at all who should take the blame here. Wathinta i cousin wathinta mina (you touch my cousin, you dig your own grave).
So we thought we would sit down and drink cider over this issue. My friend asked if I hadnever stolen a man from a friend. After swallowing air for a second, I told her to ask another question. Now I know why politicians like doing this. It gives them time to chew on the issues. And then a freaky echo took over my thoughts. "Umuntu uwumtholi esihlahleni" (Everyone is attached) once said a loser who wouldn't hear that I was seeing someone else. It was the second line of each relentless suitor in the 1980s, but clearly that still exists today. Others asked how many couples I knew who hadn't met through one brick-bliksemed victim.
"Even my mother tells me she met my dad through a neighbour."
Apparently KG's mom was the unpaid messenger who was skivvying their messages to and fro and one day just decided she had had too much and decided to show up at the venue of choice. But when the white wedding took place later that year, no one ever asked if the two had met through istina.
So I have been ordered to leave my tenant alone. Plus the fact that I didn't give a comprehensive answer to the question, whether I had ever done the unthinkable to a friend.