Club 36

Club 36 is a narrow oasis off the confines of UoN on-campus hostels devoted to the pursuit of lunch.

Narrow because that’s always crowded, and oasis because that’s where food is. Makeshift food tents everywhere. It’s famous for chapatis. People who go to Club 36 are rabbits. The chapatis that people love to gobble up there are cute but crunchy chewy discs. Those, you don’t eat, you gnaw. I’m not a rabbit.

I decided to replace the thin, crusty Club 36 chapatis with something to look forward to at lunchtime. Guess what? Please don’t, because I also didn’t guess I’d overdo it.

It all started today when I caught myself, in the dewy morning, smiling for no reason just 15 metres from the house. Then I realized that I was thinking about lunch. I decided to check on her. Hand into bag, then into lunch box … then the worst happened. I snuffed out all of my yummy home-made chapatis immediately I left the house. My brain had figured out that while you’re enjoying their company, someone else is missing them.

You see, I should have known that the practice of doing more than necessary works best when packing lunch boxes. I mean, pack at least 8 chapatis, each in its own foil wrapping, so that they become hard to get like a Turkish harem. You know those cuties hidden in buibui, yes? There we go!

Today, I had to dash to Club 36 at lunch time. I hope it was the last time ever! I don’t hate the place. I just hate those arguments I’d get into with a lunch partner when we wonder who’s gonna ask for something to eat. Most of my lunch partners pretend they are vegetarians. I thought that sounds cool so I had to pretend with them. I also wanted to be a real vegetarian once but I postponed that to till when meat will grow on trees. In real sense I’m those new-breed vegetarians who eat bacon and poultry. Never mind, they’re called liars. I’ve always wanted to confess my love for meat but there’s this deep-seated fear that my very religious friends will brand me ‘lover-of-the-flesh’; which is not a very rosy term in those circles.

I love chapatis. Especially when used as a wrapping for bacon and eggs. That hides them from the eyes so that I hoodwink them I’m vegan. But apparently, there’s serious talk going on in my head of replacing them (chapatis) with my barber. So that I can say I love my barber. Maybe I should ask her out first.

Maybe I should say the truth. I ditched Club 36 because … I started packing lunch because you can’t download food obviously. Actually, I won’t be impressed with technology until I can download food.

Well, I nearly believed the lie that I’m vegan after I started packing chapatis and apples. Challenge is, any packed apple tended to find its way back home again uneaten because roadside-sale apples always looked yummier. It’s just that thing about grass looking greener on the other side. I always thought that proverb is meant for cows. Cows are stupid. That’s why we eat them. No? You also prolly thought you’re vegan, right? Well, you’re not vegan! Spiders crawl into your mouth when you sleep. And roaches too.

Another reason why I quit Club 36? At times I’m alone at lunch. Then, lunch hour is the loneliest hour of the day. I look bad when lonely. Depressed in fact. The other day, I sneezed to hell and back in the makeshift “chapo dondo omena” food tent until this gracious mum handed me two lemons. I hid them immediately in my bag, just in case people thought life had handed them to me.

What about that red haired girl who would never come over, and sit with me. She does have lunch there too. She’s my barber. So? I quit Club 36!

I’ll lunch my lonely self tomorrow with packed chapatis. And lemons. Apples too. This time, I’ll behave.

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