Homeward Bound: Lesbian Edition

Walkie Talkie has officially been brainwashed. At first I thought it was an innocent babysitting – catsitting. Then it was an obvious catnapping. I tried enticing Dub-T to return. Romantic songs on the guitar. Humorous anecdotes in radio code. Fish in milk.
But nothing worked.
And then I was in town catching a ride with a friend when he pulled up to a house and said he was making a purchase. “ah man, is this illegal? I don’t really like cops.”
Not that there are actually honest cops here.
I walked into the house compound with the friend and we were greeted by a young girl. No greetings were exchanged. She simply led us through a muddy path overgrown with shrubs and random groups of men eating nshima until we reached a large wooden box.
As she pulled the cover off, I gathered my strength and peered in the see...
Puppies!
Now I have made my disdain for animals clear in the past. But everything is cuter when smaller. Trust me, I’ve seen my brother’s baby pictures.
In this black sea of puppy bodies, intertwined and yawning, lay one white puppy.
A mezungu puppy!
He looked up to meet my astonishment (and to show off his one black eye). And we had a moment. Because I too know how it is to be a white in a sea of black.
A few moments later, back in my friend’s car, I stroked Mezungu’s floppy ears and went through the self-bargaining thoughts we all must face directly after impulse shopping.
‘You like dogs better than cats.’
‘But both are animals and the other one practically ran away.’
‘But Mezungu is a boy and Walkie Talkie is a girl. And you do have bad luck with girls.’
This is thought that won. Because two nights earlier, I had accidentally found myself to be the 3rd wheel on a lesbian date.
Lets get homosexuality out of the way. I have lesbian friends. I have gay friends. Its all good. People have types. I get it. But both these chicks were bisexual.
And I do happen to be bi-phobic.
Because there are no rules. Halfway through the meal Girl #1 announced she had to go to the bathroom. I motioned to stand up and realized Girl #2 wasn’t moving.
‘Oh, do we not do that?’ I mean I know its cliché but I totally go to the bathroom with chicks. It’s a moral support thing. And a gossip thing. Thumbs-up to both from me.
It was about that time that I started throwing back Long Island Iced Teas. We were talking politics and international development theories – real Save The World shit that in my book is confined to 3rd date level. Everytime a waiter came by Girl #1 repeated her mantra ‘oh, I don’t drink alcohol.’ So I repeated mine. ‘well I do boss. I’ll take her share.’
Yes, rules. Hetero-Rules. There are things you talk about on the 3rd date that you only laugh about on the 1st.
And I don’t care if guys are only after one thing. It doesn’t mean they are going to get it but at least I know the end goal.
To bring it back to 1st date humor I mentioned how the large amount of meat I ate in Costa Rica made me sick so Im currently embracing my inner vegetarian. Girl #2 asked of what I thought vegetarianism. Being a student of all “isms” I tried seriously to consider the views. I explained how I love talking to Rastas about the veggie lifestyle. Their zeal for all things living can be inspirational. Ultimately though, life is birth through death. It is a beautifully grotesque cycle.
And just like that we were back in 3rd date seriousness. Contemplation of death. Respect for life.
Apparently I was being insensitive.
So due to the fact that I make a bad lesbian, I bought a male dog.
When I arrived back at my house, I tried to take Mezungu around to greet people. But nobody knew the ‘mezungu’ term. Since Im not a fan of the Tonga equivalent, I began a search for a more appropriate name. The black eye led me to boxing terms. And the People’s Champ won out. So my neighbors and friends welcomed Champ.
And only one made a connection between Mezungu and Champ, ‘ah yes. The white one always wins.’
So now Im a bi-phobic insensitive skinhead sympathizer.