You know that scene in the movies when a couple is in bed in a cheap hotel and they can hear another couple loudly having sex through the wall and they giggle and you who is watching the movie you also giggle because oh, it’s so funny?
It’s really not.
I had been traveling a couple of days through Tanzania and on one of my bust stops, I had a four hour layover. I was exhausted and got a cab to a cheap hotel to sleep for a couple of hours.
I collapsed on the bed with exactly two hours of sleep scheduled, closed my eyes and had begun to drift away when it started. The sounds coming through the wall were as clear as if they were at the head of my bedside.
Squeak squeak squeak! That was a bed, I guessed.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhh!” Those were its occupants, I suspected.
I pulled the pillow over my head but could not drown out the sounds of the couple screwing next door.
Thud thud thud! The bed was now slamming against the wall.
I gave up after ten minutes and, lying on my back, crossed my hands over my chest and adopted the facial expression of a long suffering saint as I waited for my neighbours to finish having sex so I could go to sleep. It took a few more minutes before I could hear the promise of an end.
“Whoo! Whoo! Hah! Hah! Gggaaaaaaaaah!” That was the man. It sounded like he was climaxing.
“Haaaaaaaaaaa…” This one came from the woman and it came out low and soft and drawn out. She had also come it seems. I nodded my head, satisfied. I curled up and drifted off. Ten minutes later my eyes snapped open. Katonda wange. Had they just taken a cigarette break?
Because they were at it again!
Sorrow coursed through my veins. I had hours of travel ahead of me and these-these-these sex fiends!-were ruining my nap.