I am seated at my favourite joint minding my own business as I savour my African Sausage aka mutura ya mbao.
A gentleman joins me at the table but makes sure there is social distance between us.
Punde si punde his mutura is brought on a kibao as usual, complete with a few pinches of salt and some kachumbari.
The gentleman rises on his feet and heads to the hand washing spot, where he does not only wash his hands with antiseptic soap and water, but scrubs them surgeon-style.
In the meantime, he has left his mutura on his table, which is also my table, where flies are having a field day, except for those few moments when my hands are free to ward them off.
He is distracted further by a friend who engages him for a while, but eventually comes back to join his lovely mutura.
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