Muji
VIP
Chapter 1
It was the night before the new year, so far it had rained consecutively for 20 days and 20 nights. We had slept in what was an abandoned library. The shelves were stripped of any books and there was barely a lick of paint left on the walls. The old librarians chair was still present, squeaking with the blows of the wind. @Gibiin-Udug woke me up in a pull of sweat saying she could hear noises. I rolled away from her stare and told her it was probably the wind. But I was jolted awake when I heard a chair being thrown on the floor and the squealing of a man. I quickly rushed to turn our lantern towards the noise where we saw @Crow laying on the floor collapsed over a chair.
He quickly rose to his feet and apologised profusely. I suddenly gleamed that inviting @Crow to this trip would be a regrettable mistake. He had the nerves of a mouse and was taking up a lot of our resources. In fact the only thing our male chaperone was good for was sharing FDK talking points but unfortunately this was not a useful skill outside the confines of somalispot.
By now @gibin and @Crow were on their fifth argument before she dragged me away to a corner to ask why I had invited him. “I thought he could be of use to us and to be honest the guy doesn’t seem like he has friends”. As I finished my sentence loud banging continued from the door. We all looked at each other and Gibin asked if anyone had invited someone, Crow and I shook our heads in terror. Crow quickly dispersed behind one of the shelves leaving us to deal with this sudden problem. Gibin and I tiptoed towards the door grabbing a broken chair leg for defence.
When Gibin slowly pealed the door open we saw a bald Somali male clutching a plastic bag. He quickly introduced himself as @Abdalla and asked us if he could be let in. Abdalla was a shadowy figure who had (to borrow the old expression) a face that only a mother could love. He had wrinkles etched on his face and carried the expression of someone who had seen two wars. We quickly let him in when Gibin took pity on him. He walked in away from the rain. Abdalla had an oafish way about him and you got the sense that the only way he could do something right was if it was by mistake.
Who was this strange man and how had he managed to find us? What was in this bag he was carrying? Had someone followed him towards us? These were the questions that I had to get to bottom of.
It was the night before the new year, so far it had rained consecutively for 20 days and 20 nights. We had slept in what was an abandoned library. The shelves were stripped of any books and there was barely a lick of paint left on the walls. The old librarians chair was still present, squeaking with the blows of the wind. @Gibiin-Udug woke me up in a pull of sweat saying she could hear noises. I rolled away from her stare and told her it was probably the wind. But I was jolted awake when I heard a chair being thrown on the floor and the squealing of a man. I quickly rushed to turn our lantern towards the noise where we saw @Crow laying on the floor collapsed over a chair.
He quickly rose to his feet and apologised profusely. I suddenly gleamed that inviting @Crow to this trip would be a regrettable mistake. He had the nerves of a mouse and was taking up a lot of our resources. In fact the only thing our male chaperone was good for was sharing FDK talking points but unfortunately this was not a useful skill outside the confines of somalispot.
By now @gibin and @Crow were on their fifth argument before she dragged me away to a corner to ask why I had invited him. “I thought he could be of use to us and to be honest the guy doesn’t seem like he has friends”. As I finished my sentence loud banging continued from the door. We all looked at each other and Gibin asked if anyone had invited someone, Crow and I shook our heads in terror. Crow quickly dispersed behind one of the shelves leaving us to deal with this sudden problem. Gibin and I tiptoed towards the door grabbing a broken chair leg for defence.
When Gibin slowly pealed the door open we saw a bald Somali male clutching a plastic bag. He quickly introduced himself as @Abdalla and asked us if he could be let in. Abdalla was a shadowy figure who had (to borrow the old expression) a face that only a mother could love. He had wrinkles etched on his face and carried the expression of someone who had seen two wars. We quickly let him in when Gibin took pity on him. He walked in away from the rain. Abdalla had an oafish way about him and you got the sense that the only way he could do something right was if it was by mistake.
Who was this strange man and how had he managed to find us? What was in this bag he was carrying? Had someone followed him towards us? These were the questions that I had to get to bottom of.
With video content please. The cockney ‘oi blimey’ accent would add to the stories.
