hiding behind a language

"Ukiona  mwanamke amekaa na wanaume peke yake na haogopi, huyo ni mwana siasa.”

Said the man to his fellow, who looked up from his standard and regarded me for the first time.

‘Inaonyesha hawashuku,’ he said and went back to his news.

"Ni kama Karua ama Ngilu, the first man continued.

They assumed I was deaf.

So I played along.

 But wondered, don’t women ever sit by themselves, among men? Unless they are  into politics?

 The second man handed the  newspaper to the man of opinions then left.

“Eh, Waigũrũ. Acha tuone nayeye huyu ana hadithi gani leo.”

My mind wondered in and out of our discussion.

There is some truth in it. I’m not really intimidated among men, I might even be at most ease among them I think.

-I’m not into politics-
I wanted to explain to him. 
- I was raised by an uncle you see, and a bunch of his friends-

But Really? I don’t think that is a reason either.

So I regarded him behind my eye lashes the way us women do.

About 50 years, definitely a grandfather with a  desensitized wife weighing about 102 Kilos who gets up before 4a.m to go to the market.

The news on the radio are in a language I hear but  don’t understand, I hear the name Ngirachũ, That I understand.

My mind is back to the topic.

Dubai.

I’ve been trying to sign it. I signed it as president, then heaven, so I sign ARAB COUNTRY FAMOUS.

Wondering to myself, what language do I use to think. And I try to listen in my head. Could be English.

Wait. Can’t I hear my brain?