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9 months ago | [YT] | 1

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Epilogue – The Dragon and the Mirror

George had always been a gentle man. A patient man. The kind of man who listened before speaking, who measured his words carefully.

That’s why, in the beginning, Matilda fascinated him.

She was nothing like him.

Where he was composed, she was explosive. Where he was reserved, she was unfiltered.

Her ability to express every single feeling with such passion, such intensity, had been… refreshing. He had never been with someone so alive.

At first, he thought it was beautiful.

But now, he saw it for what it truly was.

Underneath all the flowery words and dramatic confessions, there was something darker.

Something Matilda herself called her dragon.

And when that dragon felt challenged, it didn’t just roar—it burned everything down.

The Conversation That Changed Everything
She told stories about her life, her childhood, and her struggles.folded.
George had tolerated Matilda’s behavior for far too long.

The jealous outbursts. The stalking. The drinking.

She was unraveling before his eyes, and he knew if he didn’t stop it now, she’d spiral into something far worse.

So one evening, when she showed up yet again, demanding his attention, he finally sat her down.

“Matilda,” he said gently, “this has to stop.”

She scoffed. “What has to stop?”

“This obsession. The way you’re following me, the drinking, the anger—”

“Oh, so now I’m the problem?” she snapped, crossing her arms.

George sighed. “I’m not saying this to hurt you. I’m saying it because I care. You need to talk to someone. A therapist.”

Matilda stared at him.

For the first time in a long time, she was silent.

Then, she laughed.

“Therapy?” she echoed. “You think I need therapy?”

“Yes,” George said firmly. “And I think it could really help you.”

For a moment, she seemed to consider it.

And to everyone’s surprise—including her own—she went.

The Diagnosis
Matilda sat in her therapist’s office, legs crossed, arms folded.

She spoke, as she always did, in her usual animated way.

She told stories about her life, her childhood, her struggles.

She talked about George, about love, about how men always betrayed her.

She told stories of the people who had hurt her and the way she had gotten back at them.

The therapist listened. Patiently. Taking notes.

And after two sessions, the therapist finally leaned forward and said something Matilda did not expect.

“Matilda,” she said, “you are highly Machiavellian.”

Matilda blinked.

She sat up straighter.

The word rolled around in her mind.

Machiavellian.

She had never heard it before. But it sounded… powerful.

The Misunderstanding
Matilda didn’t go home and research Machiavellianism.

She didn’t spend hours reflecting on how it was a trait associated with manipulation, emotional detachment, and deceit.

She didn’t even bother questioning why the therapist had said it.

No.

She simply embraced it.

Finally—a label.

Finally—a name for the thing inside her that made her different.

The dragon had a name.

And she was proud of it.

The Final Argument
A week later, she met up with George again.

He was cautiously optimistic, thinking she had started her journey toward healing.

“How’s therapy going?” he asked.

Matilda smirked. “Great. My therapist finally figured me out.”

George nodded, encouraging. “That’s good. What did she say?”

Matilda leaned in, lowering her voice as if revealing a grand secret.

“She said I’m Machiavellian.”

George stilled.

He inhaled deeply. “Matilda… do you know what that means?”

She waved a hand. “It means I’m different. That I see the world in ways others don’t.”

George’s jaw clenched. “Matilda, that’s not a good thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Says who?”

“Matilda, Machiavellianism is part of the Dark Triad. It’s manipulation. It’s deceit. It’s using people without guilt.”

She laughed. “Oh, come on, George. Don’t be dramatic.”

George’s patience was thinning.

“No, Matilda. This isn’t something to be proud of. You need to take this seriously.”

She exhaled sharply, irritated.

And then, in a moment that would define everything, she turned to him, narrowed her eyes, and said—

“You are Machiavellian.”

George stared at her.

Matilda crossed her arms, satisfied.

George in his characteristic patience sighed heavily. He realized there wasn't much he could do. And now he had to intentionally avoid Matilda and remove her from his life.

"Matilda," he said.

"I need to leave now. Check please!" he called out to the waiter.

He left Matilda at the restaurant and drove off, swearing to himself, he'll never see her again.

The End.

9 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 2

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 9 – The Breaking Point

Matilda had lost.

For the first time, she had truly lost.

Winnie had won.

That night at the karaoke bar had sealed it. The song. The way George looked at her. The way Frida had laughed with them. It was all too much.

But if there was one thing Matilda couldn’t do, it was accept defeat.

The Dark Corner

A few weeks later, she spotted him.

George.

Sitting at a rooftop lounge with four or five of his work friends, laughing, chatting, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Matilda wasn’t supposed to be there. She had no reason to be there.

But she was.

She sat in the dimly lit corner of the bar, back turned, her glass barely touched.

Watching.

Observing.

Every laugh from George felt like a dagger. Every time he picked up his phone, she imagined he was texting Winnie.

"See you later, babe. Can’t wait to hold you tonight."

The thought made her sick.

She was breathing too fast, her hands gripping her drink.

She told herself she wasn’t going to do anything.

But she couldn’t stop herself.

She stood up.

And as she made her way to the bathroom, she bumped into him.

Hard.

“Oh, George! Wow, I didn’t even see you there!” she exclaimed, feigning surprise.

George turned, slightly startled. “Matilda?”

She flashed a smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

George’s face remained unreadable. “Yeah. Just catching up with some friends.”

She glanced at them. They were all watching.

“Of course,” she said, forcing a chuckle. “I won’t keep you.”

She disappeared into the bathroom.

But she wasn’t done.

Not even close.

What Does Winnie Have That I Don’t?

She sat at her table for a while, swirling the drink she had barely touched.

Thinking.

Scheming.

What could she do to get George’s attention?

She had told Frida all along that George had been texting her, apologizing, regretting his choices.

But here he was—happy, relaxed, unbothered.

Her emotions were rising. She could feel them, boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove.

And suddenly, she was standing again.

Walking straight toward him.

George saw her coming and tensed.

“Matilda, what—”

She cut him off, her voice trembling.

“What do you like about Winnie that you don’t like about me?”

The table went silent.

George’s friends exchanged awkward glances.

Matilda wasn’t done.

“Tell me,” she pleaded. “Tell me what she has that I don’t.”

George sighed, rubbing his temples. “Matilda, let’s not do this here.”

But her face was already crumbling.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffed, then suddenly turned and walked out.

George exhaled. His friends watched her leave, shaking their heads.

“Man,” one of them muttered. “You need to handle that.”

George picked up his drink and took a long, slow sip.

“This is me handling it.”

But what he didn’t know was—Matilda was not done.

The Week of the Stalker

For the next seven days, Matilda became George’s shadow.

She was everywhere.

At his usual morning coffee spot? Matilda.

Lunch break near his office? Matilda.

Walking to his car after work? Matilda, standing across the street, pretending to be on her phone.

She wasn’t trying to be subtle.

She wanted him to see her.

She wanted him to feel watched.

He tried to ignore her at first, but it got worse.

She started showing up at his office.

Not inside—she wasn’t reckless—but just close enough.

Standing by the lobby entrance. Sitting at a nearby café. Watching, waiting.

One evening, as George left work, his colleague nudged him.

“Dude… I think that woman has been standing there for an hour.”

George looked.

There she was.

Red lips. Dark shades. Big hair under her beret.

Arms crossed.

Waiting.

George let out a slow breath.

“Matilda,” he muttered under his breath.

This wasn’t over.

And now, he had to figure out how to end it.

To be continued…

9 months ago | [YT] | 0

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 8 – The Five-Star Hustle

Weeks had passed since the karaoke fiasco.

Matilda hadn’t spoken to Frida since that night—since the betrayal.

But now, things were different.

Winnie had won.
George was slipping further away.
Matilda was restless, anxious, and—most importantly—broke.

She needed a good night out.

And Frida?

Frida was the perfect target.

Because Matilda, despite all her tricks, was a glutton for pain.

She would throw herself into situations where she would be humiliated, just to prove a point.

She would crawl back to people who had embarrassed her, just to convince herself she was still important.

Even when she lost, she refused to acknowledge it.

She would go back for more, every time.

A Desperate Invitation
Matilda scrolled through her phone, hesitating for a moment before finally dialing Frida’s number.

It rang twice before Frida picked up.

“Matilda?” she said cautiously.

“Frida! Oh my God, it’s been forever. How have you been?”

There was silence.

Then, Frida sighed. “I’m fine, Matilda. What’s up?”

Matilda smiled to herself. She picked up. That’s a good sign.

“I miss you, girl. We need to catch up.”

Frida hesitated. “I’m actually out right now. Having dinner with my kids and some friends.”

“Oh?” Matilda’s ears perked up. “Where?”

“A five-star hotel,” Frida said casually, not inviting her.

Matilda bit her lip, thinking quickly.

“Can I join you?” she asked sweetly.

Frida sighed again. “If you want to, Matilda, you’ll have to find your own way here.”

Matilda’s mood dropped. “Oh, come on, Frida. You know I don’t have money for a cab.”

Silence.

Frida didn’t even bother responding.

Matilda sighed dramatically. “Frida, just send me something small. Please.”

Frida chuckled. “If you want to come, show up.”

And then she hung up.

Matilda fumed.

But she wasn’t about to back down.

Because Matilda was addicted to rejection.

It fueled her.

She loved throwing herself at people who had written her off—just to force them to acknowledge her existence.

And so, somehow, Matilda found her way there.

First-Class Entrance, No Budget
She strutted into the five-star hotel like she owned it, scanning the luxurious surroundings.

She spotted Frida at a long table, surrounded by her kids and a few friends.

Matilda didn’t hesitate.

She walked straight over and clunked herself into the seat right next to Frida.

The conversation at the table paused.

People glanced at each other awkwardly.

Frida exhaled sharply, pressing her lips together. “You made it.”

Matilda smiled. “Of course, darling. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Just as the waiter approached.

Matilda leaned in confidently.

“I’ll have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Red, dry.”

Frida raised an eyebrow.

Matilda ignored her.

The waiter nodded. “Anything to eat?”

She barely glanced at the menu. “Steak, potatoes, and salad.”

Frida watched.

Matilda sipped her wine delicately, flipping her hair over her shoulder as the food arrived.

And then, she ate.

First plate—finished.
Second plate—ordered.
First round of fries—gone.

Matilda wiped her mouth, barely pausing before saying, “Has everyone had enough chips? We can order more chips, you know. Just so everyone has extra.”

Frida stared at her.

She knew Matilda didn’t care about anyone else’s chips.

This was Matilda math:

If I want more, I’ll order it under the guise that it’s for everyone.

Frida didn’t say a word.

She simply waited.

Because she knew how this was going to end.

The Bill Drop
An hour later, the night was winding down.

Frida signaled the waiter.

“Check, please.”

Matilda leaned back, relaxed.

Just as the bill arrived, she raised her hand.

“Oh, just one last glass for the road.”

Frida smirked.

She reached into her purse, pulled out cash, and paid only her part.

Then she folded the bill neatly and handed it back to the waiter.

“Give the rest to her,” she said, nodding toward Matilda.

Matilda froze.

The table went silent.

She looked at the bill.

Her entire five-star meal was staring back at her in numbers.

Her chest tightened. She glanced at Frida, who was now gathering her things, ready to leave.

The others stood up too, murmuring polite goodbyes.

Matilda sat there, gripping her glass, realizing she had been played at her own game.

Her face burned.

She couldn’t cause a scene.

Not here.

Not now.

Frida placed a hand on Matilda’s shoulder and whispered, “If you want to leave, find your way.”

And with that, she walked out.

Matilda stared at the bill.

And panicked.

The 10K Mission
Two hours later, Frida received a very interesting phone call.

One of her friends from dinner, laughing uncontrollably, said:

“Matilda is still at the hotel lobby. She’s literally asking everyone in front of her for 10,000 shillings.”

Frida almost choked on her tea.

“What?”

“She’s sitting there, pleading with random strangers. ‘Please, just send me something small. I’ll refund you tomorrow.’”

Frida shook her head, laughing.

Because Matilda wasn’t just broke—she was a glutton for pain.

She would rather beg, plead, and humiliate herself than admit defeat.

She was too deep in her own game to realize she had lost.

And the best part?

She would never see herself as the problem.

To be continued…

9 months ago | [YT] | 1

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 7 – A Night of Karaoke and Betrayal

Matilda sat in the parking bay, waiting.

George stepped out, looking relaxed, his arm casually guiding a smiling Winnie.

Matilda’s heart pounded.

So this is how it is?

She watched as they got into George’s car and drove off.

But Matilda wasn’t just going to sit there.

No.

She needed to know where they were going.

And so, without hesitation, she hailed a boda boda.

“Follow that car.”

The rider glanced at her, then at the vehicle pulling out of the compound, and smirked.

“Weh! Mapenzi.”

Then he took off.

The Karaoke Restaurant

George and Winnie arrived at a cozy restaurant with soft lighting and live karaoke playing in the background. It wasn’t a bar—it was a nice place to have a few drinks and unwind before heading home.

Winnie laughed as they walked in, pointing at the stage where a group of people were enthusiastically singing a classic ballad.

“This place has such a vibe,” she said.

George smiled. “Yeah. Just thought we could relax a bit before heading home.”

They settled at a table, ordered some drinks, and leaned in, chatting comfortably.

Then Winnie’s face changed.

She stiffened slightly, her eyes flicking to the entrance.

George followed her gaze.

Matilda had just walked in.

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t pretend to be there by coincidence.

No.

She walked straight to a table opposite them and sat down, arms crossed, her gaze locked on them.

Winnie shifted in her seat, uneasy.

“George… isn’t that…?”

George exhaled, already knowing what was about to happen.

“Yeah.”

“She’s just… sitting there. Watching us.”

George reached across the table, gently placing his hand over Winnie’s.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Ignore her. She’s just trying to get a reaction.”

Winnie hesitated, glancing at Matilda again.

“She looks furious.”

“She’ll get tired,” George assured her. “Just focus on me.”

And so, Winnie took a deep breath and turned back to George.

But Matilda wasn’t tired.

Not even close.

And then—it happened.

The Song That Changed Everything

A new singer stepped onto the karaoke stage.

Winnie.

She picked up the microphone, glanced at the audience, and then—

She began to sing.

"The first time… ever I saw your face…"
"I saw the sun… rise in your eyes…"
"And the moon and the stars… were the gifts you gave…"
"To the dark… and the endless skies…"

George sat still.

Transfixed.

He watched her, listened to her, felt the song in his chest.

Winnie’s voice was soft, pure, filled with emotion.

The world around him faded.

The noise, the clinking glasses, the laughter of strangers—all of it disappeared.

It was just her voice and that moment.

Matilda watched.

She felt George’s reaction.

And her rage exploded.

Because Matilda—Matilda—had always considered herself a singer.

It was her thing.

Her talent.

And yet here was Winnie, taking the stage, taking the moment, and—worst of all—taking George’s attention.

Matilda’s fists clenched under the table.

She hated Winnie.

She hated George for looking at her like that.

This wasn’t just about another woman.

It was about being replaced.

And Matilda was not about to let that happen.

She pulled out her phone and dialed.

“Frida. I need you here. Now.”

Frida’s Investigation

Fifteen minutes later, Frida arrived.

She took one look at Matilda’s stormy expression and sighed.

“What now?”

Matilda pointed aggressively at Winnie.

“I need you to go over there and find out who she really is.”

Frida hesitated. “Matilda…”

“Now.”

Frida exhaled. Here we go.

She walked over to George and Winnie’s table, putting on her most neutral expression.

“Hey, George.” She smiled. “Mind if I join you guys for a bit?”

George sighed but nodded.

Winnie smiled politely. “Of course.”

And so, Frida sat.

For twenty whole minutes.

Talking. Laughing.

Laughing with Winnie.

Matilda watched from her table, her anger rising with every passing second.

Frida was supposed to be on her side.

She was supposed to be investigating.

Not making friends with the enemy.

Betrayal

Finally, Frida returned to Matilda’s table.

Matilda was fuming.

“What the hell was that?” she hissed.

Frida frowned. “What?”

“You were laughing with her!”

Frida sighed. “Matilda, you asked me to investigate. That requires talking to them.”

Matilda shook her head in disbelief. “You betrayed me.”

Frida’s patience snapped.

“What did you expect me to do, Matilda?” she asked, exasperated. “You wanted me to walk over there and attack her? I needed time to talk to them, to actually see what’s going on. You’re being ridiculous.”

Matilda’s fists clenched. “I trusted you, Frida.”

Frida rolled her eyes. “Matilda, grow up.”

That was it.

Matilda snapped.

She stood up abruptly, knocking over her chair.

People turned to watch.

Again.

Matilda didn’t care.

She grabbed her purse and stormed out of the restaurant.

Tonight was ruined.

George had humiliated her.
Frida had betrayed her.
Winnie had won.

Her chest burned with anger as she walked out into the night.

But this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

To be continued…

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9 months ago | [YT] | 0

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 6 – Focus, Focus, Focus

Matilda had a gift—a remarkable ability to forget the men who had wronged her.

Martin? Who?
Eliud? A distant memory.
Mashida Bar? Just another place in town.

Life moved on, and so did she.

Until one evening, scrolling through her phone, she suddenly remembered—George.

It had been a month since she last heard from him. One month of silence. And now, her mind was racing.

Had he forgotten about her?

Maybe he had cooled down from the 52K bill incident. Maybe he had finally let go of his anger. Maybe, just maybe, she could slip right back into his life.

So she reached out.

A Text That Changed Everything

Matilda: Hey babe, how are you doing? Where have you been? What’s going on?

She stared at her screen, waiting.

And then, a reply.

George: Hey. I’ve been busy. What’s up?

She smirked. Typical George. Always polite, always decent.

Matilda: Oh, I was just thinking we should go out. Catch up. It’s been a while.

She imagined him reading the message, hesitating. But then, his response came through.

George: Oh, no, no, no. Today I’m taking Winnie out.

Matilda sat up.

Who the hell is Winnie?

Matilda: Winnie?

George: Yeah, my colleague. She’s really nice. We’ve been working on a project together.

Matilda's grip on her phone tightened.

George. At it again.

Entertaining other women.

The Shift

She had spent a month messing around with Eliud and Martin. Jumping from place to place, drinking men dry, being played and playing others.

But George?

George was different.

George was real potential.
Real husband material.
A man with stability.
A man with real money.
A man to settle down with.

And suddenly, it hit her.

He was the reason behind everything.

All the drinking, the partying, the reckless behavior—it was all an attempt to fill the void George left behind.

She needed to focus.

Focus.
Focus.
Focus.

The Chase Begins

And so began The Great George Comeback.

She poured every ounce of her energy into winning him back.

Constant texting.

“Hey, are you at work?”
“What are you doing today?”
“Thinking about you.”

Calling him late at night.

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Offering to buy him meals.

“Babe, let me take you out. My treat.”

Offering to cook for him.

“I’ll bring you lunch at the office. I know you love home-cooked food.”

George, being George, remained polite. But Matilda could sense the hesitation.

Something was different.

He wasn’t falling for her tricks as easily.

It frustrated her. What was going on?

The Night It All Went Wrong

One evening, she showed up at his apartment unannounced.

She rang the bell.

George, sitting in his living room, sighed. He already knew.

It had to be Matilda.

But there was a problem.

Tonight, George wasn’t alone.

Winnie was there.

A decent girl. A sweet, kind, normal woman. The opposite of Matilda’s chaos.

Panic surged through George.

He couldn’t let Matilda cause a scene.

He thought quickly. “Stay here,” he told Winnie. “I’ll handle this.”

Instead of answering the door himself, he called his house help.

“Go to the window and talk to her. Tell her I’m not home.”

The house help obeyed.

She peered through the small window. “Excuse me, hello?”

Matilda folded her arms. “Yes?”

“George isn’t home.”

Matilda knew she was lying.

She could smell the deceit.

But she wasn’t going to leave that easily.

Fine. If George wouldn’t come to her, she would wait.

She turned around, walked straight to the parking bay, and sat on the bonnet of a car.

And there she stayed.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Then, finally, footsteps.

Matilda’s heart pounded.

She looked up and saw George…

Walking out of the apartment.

With Winnie.

To be continued…

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9 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 1

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire

Episode 5 – A Foolish Dog Returns to Its Vomit

Matilda had a remarkable talent for forgetting her own disasters.

The night of the long swords, when she had been stranded at the restaurant and forced to surrender her phone? Forgotten.

The shame of Eliud’s betrayal, the humiliation of being played like a cheap violin? Irrelevant.

Why let a little nonsense stop her from enjoying a perfectly good spot to drink? Mashida Bar—ironically named, given her history there—was still convenient. It was close, familiar, and, most importantly, she wasn’t about to let a bad memory dictate her choices.

Enter Martin

She knew Martin casually—mostly from Instagram. She had liked a few of his pictures, he had thrown a few heart-eye emojis on her stories, but they had never met in person. Until one night, while having drinks with friends at Mashida Bar, she recognized him among a group of men across the room.

He was more handsome than his IG photos.

Encouraged by wine and curiosity, she strutted over.

“Martin, right?” she asked with a sly smile.

He looked up, slightly surprised, then grinned. “Matilda?”

That was all it took. The ice broke. They chatted briefly, exchanged some flirtatious banter, and before long, she had a new contact saved in her phone.

But Matilda had no idea that Martin wasn’t just another admirer.

He was a hunter.

A Crisis That Brought Them Closer

A few weeks later, an emergency landed her at the hospital. A close friend needed an urgent blood transfusion, and Matilda had responded to the call for donors.

As she paced the corridor, she almost bumped into someone.

Martin.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his brows furrowed in curiosity.

Matilda told him her friend was involved in an accident and urgently needed blood.

After a brief explanation, Martin agreed to donate blood.

But he didn’t just stop there. He stayed by her side the entire time, waiting with her, offering comfort, making sure she ate something after the long, stressful hours.

By the time her friend was stable, Matilda was exhausted but relieved.

“Come on,” Martin suggested. “Let’s go get a drink. You need to relax.”

She agreed.

And where else but Mashida Bar?

The Perfect Setup

The drinks flowed, the dim lighting made everything feel intimate, and Martin was all ears. Matilda told him about her life, her dreams, her struggles. The playlist from her Spotify filled the space between them, setting the perfect mood.

He sat close, eating, drinking, absorbing every detail about her.

She felt comfortable. Safe.

He seemed decent. Or so she thought while she made payments via her phone.

Then came the moment that changed everything.

The Vanishing Act

Matilda got up for a bathroom break, leaving her phone behind so it wouldn’t interrupt the music.

When she returned, the table was empty.

No Martin.
No phone.
Nothing.

Panic set in instantly. She searched under the table, around the seats—maybe he had stepped out? Maybe he took her phone by accident?

She ran to the entrance. No sign of him.

Her heart pounded as she borrowed a phone to call hers. Straight to voicemail.

And then it hit her.

He had been watching her the whole time—listening, studying, memorizing. All the closeness, all the charm? It was part of his plan. Had he been reading her passwords?

Minutes later, the real nightmare began. She used the barman's phone to call Safaricom to block access to her account. Withdrawals. Large amounts disappeared from her account.

Matilda’s hands shook as she frantically called the bank, scrambling to stop access there too.

By the time she blocked everything, Martin—or whatever his real name was—had taken a huge chunk of her money.

She sat there in shock, her face burning with humiliation.

How had she not seen it?

How had she fallen for it?

And worst of all—why had she returned to the same place where she had been played before?

Like a foolish dog returning to its own vomit.

To be continued…

9 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 4

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 4 – The One Who Played Her

Matilda thought she had mastered the art of getting what she wanted. She knew how to spot the vulnerable, the lonely, the men who needed a soft touch and a warm body. And Eliud? Eliud was the easiest catch of them all.

They had known each other since university. Back then, he was just another guy, but years had changed him. Now, he was loaded—the heir to a vast estate, a man women prowled around, waiting for an opening. But Eliud was also broken. Three ex-wives had drained him emotionally, and the only comfort he had left was at the bottom of a bottle.

Matilda saw the weakness, the vulnerability, and most importantly—the opportunity.

A Game of Drinks and Deception

She started slow.

“Oh Eliud,” she would say sweetly, “your house is a mess, let me come clean up for you.”

And of course, after tidying up a bit, a little wine would follow. Then, inevitably, she’d land in his bed.

Eliud didn’t mind at first. He was used to women using him, and Matilda played her role well. She knew how to stroke his ego, how to act like she cared just enough to keep him hooked. But after a while, Eliud started demanding more from her.

“B*tch, when are you coming over?” he texted one evening.

Matilda nearly choked on her drink. The audacity.

She stormed to her friend Frida. “Why is this guy disrespecting me? Just because I’ve been with him? I’ll set him straight next time I talk to him.”

But days passed, and Eliud went silent. No texts. No invitations. Nothing.

At first, Matilda acted like she didn’t care. But then, the craving hit. She needed a drink. Badly. And she wasn’t about to waste her own money on it.

She picked up her phone and dialed.

The Setup

“Eliud, darling,” she purred when he finally answered. “Where have you been? I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

He chuckled. “Been busy.”

“Mmm. Well, let’s go out tonight. Just us.”

Eliud hesitated. “Where?”

“Somewhere nice. But close to home. I don’t feel like going far.”

That was the bait. Close enough for her to walk there alone, so Eliud had to come.

He sighed. “Fine. Give me 30 minutes.”

That was all she needed to hear.

She dressed up, strutted to the restaurant, and settled into a cozy booth. The waiter approached.

“A bottle of red,” she ordered confidently.

She poured the first glass. Then the second. By the third, she pulled out her phone and called Eliud.

“Where are you?”

“Give me 30 minutes,” he repeated.

Matilda leaned back, swirling the wine in her glass. He’s coming. I’ve got this.

An hour passed.

No Eliud.

She called again. No answer.

Another call. Straight to voicemail.

Ten calls. Fifteen. Twenty.

By the time she realized Eliud wasn’t coming, her stomach twisted. The second bottle sat half-empty in front of her. The bill was growing.

She needed a plan.

Negotiation Tactics—The Guerrilla Way

She took a deep breath, adjusted her coat, and called the head waiter.

“Listen,” she said with the sweetest smile she could manage. “Nanii, sina pesa. But I’ll come back tomorrow and pay, sawa?”

The waiter looked at her like she had just insulted his ancestors.

“Madam, wacha nikupange,” he muttered before walking off.

Moments later, the owner of the establishment appeared.

“You’re the kind of women who come here and don’t know how to pay for their drinks, eh?” he spat, arms crossed.

Matilda’s face burned. A few customers turned to watch. She could feel the judgment, the whispers, the quiet laughter at her expense.

How could Eliud do this to her?

Her mind raced. Who can I call?

Not George. Not after that 52K bill incident.

Not Frida. She warned me about this.

No one.

She had no one.

Her last resort was her cab guy.

She pulled out her phone and dialed. “Come pick me. Now.”

As she stood up to leave, the owner’s voice rang through the air.

“Funga hiyo gate!”

Matilda froze.

Her pulse pounded. This was bad. Really bad.

She turned slowly. “Please. I’ll come back and pay tomorrow.”

The owner sneered. “Leave something as security.”

Matilda swallowed hard.

Her phone.

It was the only thing of value she had with her. With shaking hands, she placed it on the counter.

The owner took it without a second glance. “Now get out.”

Matilda walked out, head low, shame burning through her like fire.

She had just enough cash to pay the cab home.

Eliud had played her.

And she hated it.

To be continued…

9 months ago | [YT] | 1

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 3 – Asante ya Punda ni Mateke

Matilda had a way of moving through life like the world owed her something. Rules? Those were for other people. Consequences? Those were other people’s problems.

When things got tough—and they often did—Matilda found ways to survive. She wasn’t above calling in favors, sweet-talking her way into someone’s home, or leaning on a friend’s kindness. That’s how she ended up living with her friend, a single mother like herself, who took her in when Matilda had nowhere else to go.

Matilda didn’t see it as a lifeline. She saw it as her right.

From the moment she and her kids stepped into that house, Matilda moved as if she owned it. She didn’t tiptoe around like most people would when staying at someone else’s place—no, she set the rules.

Breakfast? If the household had one sausage per person, Matilda insisted on three. Bread? Everyone else took a slice or two—Matilda took four.
Meals? She made sure she and her kids ate to their fill, encouraging them: “Eat as much as you want! There’s plenty of food here.”

But when it came to helping with expenses? Contributing anything to the home? Not a shilling.

She never thought to ask, “Do you need help?” Instead, she treated the place like her personal kingdom. She came and went as she pleased, often leaving for nights at a lover’s house, assuming—no, expecting—her friend to look after her children.

And her friend did. Because at the end of the day, those kids were innocent. Where else would they go? Their mother couldn’t afford a place, and they didn’t deserve to suffer for her choices.

So the friend endured it. For the children.

But Matilda didn’t see patience as kindness—she saw it as permission.

Living Large in Someone Else’s House

For months, Matilda lived in what she saw as paradise. She drank when she wanted. Slept when she wanted. Ate when she wanted.

She never said thank you.

She never thought, maybe I should buy something for the house.

One day, she decided she and her kids deserved a feast.

Not just any meal—a grand meal. A celebration of excess.

She took out four kilos of beef from the fridge, had potatoes frying golden in the pan, and bottles of soda chilling on the table. A massive cake sat on the counter, waiting to be sliced. There was even salad—because, after all, balance was important.

The house smelled rich with spices and sizzling meat. Matilda and her kids ate like royalty, laughing, drinking, devouring every last bite.

Not once did she think, Maybe I should leave some for others.

Her friend came home, took one look at the empty sufuria, the greasy plates, and the crumbs of cake, and something inside her snapped.

“Matilda,” she said, voice trembling with anger. “You and your kids just ate four kilos of beef?”

Matilda, relaxed and full, barely looked up. “Yeah. We were hungry.”

That was it.

Enough was enough.

Her friend, who had swallowed her frustration for months, exploded.

“Do you think this is a hotel? Do you think I’m your servant? You don’t contribute a cent, you leave your kids with me while you’re out drinking, and now you have the audacity to eat me out of my own house?”

Matilda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s just food.”

“Just food?” The woman was shaking now. “Matilda, I have my own children to feed. And what do you do? You act like this is your house! You don’t help with bills, you don’t even say thank you! You just take, take, take.”

Matilda stood up, crossing her arms. “Are you kicking me out?”

Her friend took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Yes. I am.”

Matilda laughed bitterly. “Wow. After everything?”

Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “Everything? Matilda, you’ve done nothing but take advantage of me.”

Matilda picked up her bag, calmly walked upstairs, and gathered her things.

Then, with a final glance around the house she had claimed as her own, she called her kids.

“Fine. We’ll leave.”

As she walked out, her friend shook her head.

“Asante ya punda ni mateke.”

A donkey’s gratitude is a kick.

And Matilda had just kicked her one too many times.

To be continued…

9 months ago | [YT] | 0

Boomerang Podcast Africa

Matilda: The Woman Who Plays with Fire
Episode 2 – The First Date That Wasn’t Quite First

George had known Matilda for years before they ever became a thing.

Back then, she was electric—vivacious, full of life, and effortlessly funny. She had this way of lighting up every room she walked into, making people laugh until their stomachs hurt. She was the woman everyone noticed, but for George, she was the woman he couldn’t stop noticing.

He had always been in her orbit, the quiet admirer watching from afar. At the time, she was with some Nigerian guy—intense, sharp-dressed, and intimidating as hell. George didn’t stand a chance. So he admired her from the sidelines, wishing he was the one making her laugh, the one she leaned into at parties, the one she called hers.

But life has a way of bringing things full circle.

Years later, fate threw them back into each other’s paths. Only this time, George was different. He had bloomed. The quiet, unassuming man from before had grown into someone confident, established, and—most importantly—undeniably cool.

And now? He was finally cool enough to date Matilda.

They reconnected, exchanged numbers, and started texting. At first, it was just casual chats—late-night conversations, inside jokes, and reminiscing about the past. But soon, those texts turned into something more.

So when George finally asked her out on a proper date, he felt like he had won.

A First Date to Remember (For All the Wrong Reasons)
The evening started out perfectly.

They settled into a sleek club restaurant, the kind of place where people like George—social, well-off, and respected—felt at home. And there she was, sitting across from him.

He could hardly believe his luck. Matilda was still beautiful, still magnetic. She had changed, but who didn’t after a few years?

As they shared a meal—grilled chicken, a side of fries, and a few glasses of wine—George felt like he was in a dream. Matilda was here. With him. Finally.

But then, the shift happened.

It started subtly.

Matilda kept glancing over her shoulder, scowling at a group of men standing nearby.

George noticed. “Everything okay?”

She exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Ugh. Kenyan men.”

George blinked. “What about them?”

“They have no sense of personal space.” She turned toward the men standing near their table. “Excuse me, do you mind? You’re too close to me!”

The guy, taken aback, raised his hands. “Uh… sorry?”

She waved him off, mumbling, “Honestly, no manners.”

George chuckled nervously. Maybe she was just feeling a little tipsy? He tried to steer the conversation back to them, but Matilda wasn’t done.

Another man walked past, accidentally brushing her chair. She spun around instantly.

“Oh my God,” she groaned, pushing him away. “Can’t you see I’m sitting here? Boundaries, please!”

The man frowned. “Relax, it was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah, an accident,” she shot back. “Men in this country need to learn some damn etiquette.”

George was starting to sweat. He glanced around. A few people were watching. Some of them were his friends.

He was well-known at this club. Respected. And now, here he was, with Ms. Drama Queen, causing a scene.

He tried to calm her down. “Matilda, let’s just enjoy the night, okay?”

But she was on a roll. Another guy, this time someone George actually knew, came over to say hi. Matilda barely let him finish greeting George before snapping, “Can you not stand so close to me?”

The guy laughed, assuming she was joking. “Relax, I’m just saying hi.”

“Oh, I am relaxed,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “I just don’t like people breathing down my neck.”

George could feel his face heating up. People were whispering. His friends were giving him looks.

This was not the date he had imagined.

As the night wore on, it only got worse. The more she drank, the louder she got. She was snapping at the bartender, side-eyeing every man who walked too close, and rolling her eyes at the waitstaff like she was royalty.

George knew he had to shut it down. “Matilda, let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

She smirked, finishing the last sip of her wine. “What? You embarrassed?”

He forced a chuckle, standing up. “Come on.”

In the cab ride home, she was quiet. Maybe she sensed his mood. Maybe she didn’t care. Either way, she leaned against the window, lost in her own world.

George exhaled, running a hand over his hair.

"Okay," he told himself. "Maybe she just drank too much. Maybe next time, I just need to control how much she drinks."

But that wasn’t the half of it.

To be continued…

9 months ago | [YT] | 1