My gas just ran out.

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Ritchie Odak. This is a story of by friend Barrack Obaga. It is taken from his Facebook profile verbatim.

This is my fourth gas cylinder. I bought it two days ago. For anyone who started out from the bottom right after campus, there are two things that will always last in your memory as far as the gas cooker is concerned.
One, you'll never forget the feeling you had the day you bought your first gas cylinder together with the burner and the stand that holds the sufuria (saucepan) in place as you cook.
Two, you can forget the first reason above BUT you'll never forget the way gas runs out on you. Never ever. The embarrassing moments that result from this will haunt you forever.
I bought my first gas cylinder on 30th June 2013. I still have the receipt stashed somewhere. This was almost a full month after I'd left campus and moved out into the bedsitter which you are, by now, familiar with. It was the small 'house' that would make a chic raised in a castle ask: "Kwani where's the rest of the house?"

I was excited at the idea of starting to cook. I'd missed my own cooking. I used to buy food from Tuskys Supermarket at T-Mall, that kitchen of theirs. Since I didn't have a microwave, I'd give the packed food to the guys in the main house from whom I was subletting my small 'house' to warm for me. I still don't understand where I got all that money to survive on supermarket pre-cooked food.
At the time, I was lucky to be dating a chic that's seen through the hard start and she'd occasionally pack up some food and forcibly deliver it to my official residence. I'd save some coins and notes on such days.
On other days, since I was still attached to campus, I'd pass through Senses aka Student Centre after dropping my job applications all over the place. I'd call up a few pals who were still in campus and we'd eat a meal and wash it down with sodas. Then I'd stroll into town, full, focused on sleeping upon arrival at the house.
One day, I bought mutton and vegetable rice from T-Mall. That was the day I said, nay, I declared that enough was enough! It tasted so bad that I threw all of it in the bin. I did the math. I multiplied, added, divided, subtracted and I realized that I'd wasted cash buying ready food. I'd have comfortably bought a cooker.
So on 30th June, armed with cash, I walked to the guy selling gas near the entrance of Langata's Onyonka Estate.
"Nipatie hio ya 6kg (Gimme that 6kg one)" I said. I gave him the cash. He delivered it to the house.
Setting it up was drama. But I got it right. It had been long since I had last used a gas cooker. So I did all the installation outside. This was a safety precaution.
"Just in case it explodes," I lied to myself. "The whole world should explode with me"
The good thing with this single burner is that you focus on cooking one dish at a time. With the singularity of focus your bachelor meal deserves.
I couldn't stop talking about the first meal I'd prepared in my house after leaving campus. That was the tastiest meal ever since I left campus. And I couldn't stop toying with the idea of making meat, chicken or fish stew in the days to come. That feeling lingers in you forever too. Hehe...
Fast-forward to a random Saturday. Remember all my Saturdays were set aside for laundry and chores. Then lunch.
On this particular day, I decided to make ugali, sukuma wiki and eggs for lunch. That's the staple food for anyone in campus and fresh from campus. It never gets old.
I can't recall the order in which I was preparing them, but when I got to eggs, I failed to realize that I was taking too long for them to cook. I thought maybe the perforations on the burner had blocked.
Long story short, I was left with eggs that were barely halfway cooked.
"Why does this gas decide to run out right in the middle of the month?" I pondered.
The middle of the month is relative. Often, it's determined by the time when you have money only enough to shuttle you between home and work. And maybe eggs and veggies once in a while.
You know you're smack in the middle of the month when you don't have cash to refill a cylinder of gas. You know you're knee deep in starvation when, upon noticing those last kicks of the dying flames and all you can say is: "Lord, please, not today. Not now... Please... Please..." But those prayers echo back to you. And the fire dies off. And there's nothing you can do. Nothing.
The second gas cylinder ran out when I was cooking ugali. I was left with a crossbreed of porridge and ugali; a substance so thick that a snail would outpace it if they were to race.
I laughed at myself. I laughed at my folly.
Somewhere in between the first and the second one, I got a microwave from my friend Jose. This appliance became a big asset in the kitchen. While I was waiting for the next cash to come in to buy gas, I'd always throw any food that's eaten warm into the microwave. Milk. Tea. Some chapati I bought. All in the microwave.
Anyway, the third one ran out when making tea. Thank God, it was at night. I knew that the next morning I'd have had to rush to the office early and fix a mug of coffee before anyone could read the problems I had in kitchen back at home.
This is the fourth one. Many meals later. And to many more ugalis before the wife comes into my life and throws it out.
Hey, every time it happens it makes for a great story, and so it's OK.