who's the chicken now?

voters apathy 2007

2006-12-08T07:11:00.000-08:00

Contrary to popular stance, I would like to urge everyone not to vote in the next year’s general elections. My reasoning is simple. Regardless whether we vote in ODM-kenya, Narc-Kenya or any other party for that matter, we shall be voting in a bunch of remorseless self seekers who shall at the first opportunity seek to increase their already bloated salaries and perks. It is very telling that politicians on both sides of the divide agree on only two things i.e. an increase in their pay and secondly that it is good if we all go and vote! Now it does not take a Greek rocket scientist to figure out that both these statements are self serving.

It is not lost to me that majority of people will think am mad for suggesting such a ridiculous proposal but then, desperate times call for desperate measures. We are living in times when the ruling class has held us hostage for too long and the worst part about it is that every five years or so, we legitimize their plundering by voting them in under different guises. I must say that I admire the ability of politicians to re-invent themselves even in the most impossible of circumstances. A huge number of our politicians have been involved in anglo-leasing, Goldenberg, Ouko inquiry, land clashes etc just to mention but a hundredth of the atrocities. The same politicians in less than four years are the darlings of the voting public. It is sad to see that the average mwananchi has a very short memory and these buffoons of leaders have learnt to play with our perpetual amnesia to our detriment. Are we still going to vote them in?

I submit that both the opposition and the government have not only failed miserably in as far as the mandate we gave them to serve us is concerned, but have also been complicit to all the vices that have rendered us broke, tribal and corrupt. How do we justify voting for people who went into parliament, turned their back on the M.o.U that we so fervently fell for line hook and sinker? How do we justify voting for people who the only time that both sides of the house agreed was when they wanted to increase their salaries? How can the opposition say they are our watchdog when they were complicit to the plunder of public resources as we watch helplessly? We are told that it is the wananchi who are the employers of those in parliament. If that is so, then how come we cannot determine how much a member of parliament takes home? I can assure you that there is no single Kenyan of sound mind (and is not an immediate benefactor of the largesse) who will tell you that the members of parliament deserve the money they get. Is it not amazing that an MP earns five times what the brightest lecturer earns. Lecturers churn out a good number of qualified graduates and that can be measured by how highly Kenya is rated in the international job market. Our politicians can be rated by how well Kenya compares in economy, corruption index, tribalism, cronyism, employment creation etc. I don’t have to tell anyone where Kenya rates on the international scene on these variables, but I itch so I must scratch- we compare hopelessly. So, why, I ask again are politicians being paid more than lecturers.

I am greatly disturbed by the continuous reminders from government of how far we have come and how we are doing better than when kanu was in power. Any bunch of clowns with very little effort can do better than kanu! This 8th parliament will go down in history as the biggest hoax the country has ever witnessed. This parliament has the most number of PhD’s, master’s degrees and other qualifications since the country’s independence, yet their collective stupidity is astounding. How else can you explain the Artur saga and the circus that ensued thereafter? It is not just greed or corruption but foolishness to expect Kenyans to believe anything the ruling class has to tell us.

Arguments shall be advanced am sure, that we the citizenry hold the power through the ballot box. Well, we do and we don’t. We do because if we exercise the right to vote, then we are deemed to have actually chosen the person that we want to rule us. The question then is, have we really and truly wanted the rulers that we have this far picked or was it hobson’s choice where we are faced with choosing between the devil or his assistant so we settled for his assistant. Indeed that is no choice at all. We all know that as Kenyans we have a large pool of people from whom we can pick. We also know that all these good people are unknown to the larger populace and the only way to scale the political ladder is by acquiring obscene wealth or having a godfather somewhere who will do the spadework for you. Both these conditions are difficult to achieve if we are to put in 222 new faces in parliament. The one-off upset where a man/woman wins an election on a bicycle is not what Kenyans need now. What Kenyans need is a total overhaul from the president to the last sleepy opposition MP. The only way to do this is not through overt mass action but through covert mass action where we simply stay at home and refuse to vote until the following conditions are met:

Anyone who has ever been employed by Kenyans as an MP since 1963 should not be eligible to stand next year because in the law-book of public opinion, ALL the MP’s have failed us miserably. We cannot at this time stick to the law that tells us that any adult of sound mind who can speak Kiswahili be eligible! This is because if we stick to the current laws that favor the ruling class, we shall never get out of our political quagmire. All this talk of constitutional change is just cosmetic and will be drawn out for as long as they can to safeguard their interests. I daresay that if we do away with all these people, then we stand a fighting chance of turning a new leaf to stop grand corruption, tribalism and poverty.

Further, the pay and perks of MP’s be an all-inclusive package of 150,000 shillings and be revised only when the teachers salaries are revised and in the same percentages. Of course the teacher’s salaries should be pegged to how well the economy can sustain into the distant future.

Most importantly, the law-making arm of government should ensure that there is an immediate way to make sure that we can hold our politicians accountable for any actions they undertake on behalf of us the Kenyans. This is to say that if my MP is suspected of misusing the CDF fund directly or through proxy, I should be able to make sure that he loses all the property he has acquired in this way, in the shortest time possible say one month. Immediate punishment works wonders.

I guarantee anyone who cares to listen that come next year, the elections will be the most tribal ever, with members of one community bearing the brunt of isolation. Further, next years election shall see close to 90% of the current crop of MP’s get back to parliament, the other 10% will come from the so called youth. The 10% youth will eventually get corrupted by the system and then later turn out to be worse than their predecessors. We therefore need to do a total purge and refuse to vote. I say refuse because there is absolutely no way that a Kenyan politician will agree to step down after tasting the 800,000 per month from the public coffers. They have to be forced out of office. I challenge any Kenyan who wants to see a country without arrogant self serving politicians to abstain from voting.

As the populace refuses to vote, the politicians whose mandate ends in 5 years shall be forced to step down according to THEIR law and therefore it is the attorney general who has security of tenure who shall run the country in the meantime. The people shall then force the AG by way of petitions to make sure that the aforementioned suggestions are implemented in the shortest time possible, and then an election of fresh people shall be conducted. Indeed when the people perceive that it is not a fight between political parties but a fight between the rulers and the ruled, then all this will begin to make sense.

Are We inherently Stupid o wat?!

2005-12-12T03:13:00.000-08:00

Amidst my packing and a very exciting weekend, I intermittently read some book titled the capitalist nigger.

This Nigerian author apparently got my attention because of the bland way in which he castigates people of the black race as being intellectually inferior to those of the white. Am a hardcore diehard proponent of black intergration with white, solely for the reason that we are equal in all respects.

Reading this book has really made me view things slightly differently. The dude falters quite a bit when he says that there are absolutely no black inventors since days of yore. He recognizes the pyramid thingy and the great monuments of Zimbabwe and mali, but that’s about it.

A friend of mine was equally incensed by the book, and took it upon himself to send me a list of black inventors…thanks a lot erico…

The list has quite a number of interesting inventions, some of which are laughable but inventions all the same.

One black guy took it upon himself to invent a casket lowering device. Yaani kishukisho cha jeneza.

Another one invented a biscuit cutter and yet still another one invented a pastry fork. It was interesting to read that a black man invented peanut butter. In as much as we all know that Graham bell invented the telephone, the black inventors list shows that the phone in its current form was invented by a black man (Granville Woods, Dec2 1884). Shock so complete, one Henry Sampson invented the cellular phone in 1971.H.A Jackson, another black, invented the kitchen table.

Anyhow, there are lots of inventions that the capitalist nigger overlooked that the black race actually invented. His anger stems from the fact that the black race has failed to commercialize their inventions, hence making them economically crippled to take care of their own.

It was not lost to him that the black man is the most booksmart race in his adopted country America. However, this smartness never translates into significant economic gain as a race. A good case in example is the fact that the NBA is 88% black but not a single black man owns a team in the same league. Small wonder then that we are always slaves to the master.

Now there is some bogged theory that Noahs son Ham molested him while he was drunk and asleep. He later went and told his brothers the story and they came over and covered their dad. Previously, Noah had blessed Ham and so he could not curse him. Eventually he cursed his grandson Cush, that he will be the slave of his brothers and cousins. Cushites come from cush who happens to be the father of all blacks… hence some scholars believe that the servitude started way back.
Back to my story…

Indians, Chinese, Japanese etc have really taken over the world with their genius in ALL spheres of life. They ensure that we eat their food, wear their clothes and buy their stuff. We on the other hand are an all consuming society that depends on others to make stuff for them to consume. Our food, clothes etc are considered inferior because we allow them to think we are inferior.

Controversial the book is and it serves to stir up our mind and gear us towards thinking more about self reliance than just being servants of the master.
He suggests the spider web mentality that the Indians adopt to become successful.. Basically, once a shilling gets into the Indian system, it never leaves. This is because an Indian will go to an Indian restaurant, he will buy an Indian car, he will buy Indian clothes etc.

A black guy on the other hand, will earn millions, he will eat Chinese food, he will wear Italian suits and he will hire Japanese architects etc. The millions he has made will all leave the black race in that way and keep enriching the Caucasians.

The dude quips..are we inherently stupid?!

Of strange thoughts and A.D.D

2005-11-28T02:31:00.000-08:00

I am perfectly sure that I do not suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)… Usually, people think that I know lots of things. I guess it’s because I can actually tell you stuff that is very strange and quite out of this world.

My brain tends to select stuff that is more fiction than practical. I am inclined to be completely oblivious of my immediate surroundings. Small wonder then that I cannot remember the number plate of my car, but I know that it’s impossible for someone to lick their elbow.

Many times my boss gets a tad irritated by me. By all standards, he considers me to be a clever chap. He often gives me ad hoc assignments that I couldn’t care about but I keep a note all the same. The boss of me can come and ask me the name of his would be Portuguese partner currently living in Maputo. I would give him this blank look like… where the hell would I know his name from, only to remember 5 seconds later that we actually held a meeting with him the previous week!

Strange, because I know that if you put grapes in a microwave, they would explode. I also know that by law, it is criminal to own a female donkey in Limuru (small town in Kenya).

The one time, I went for a party with my pals to a nearby location. Hmm, that was a pretty laid back party but we had lots of innocent fun. The bash ended at 8pm and we set for another party which was actually closer to my place. As fate would have it, I needed to go collect some cd’s to spice up the groove. I borrowed a friend’s car and off I went. The drive was pretty short and I took like 10 minutes to get home, pick out the cd’s and was on my way back.

I was a little tipsy as I took the exact direction to the first party. I engaged my self in dramatic thoughts as I wondered why it is impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. It disturbed me that I know no African dialect that has an exact word meaning “Maintenance!”

Just then, I got to a roadblock and the blue dressed traffic cop raised his right palm to motion me to stop. Talk about coincidence as I thought of how funny it was that I was very near GrandPalm hotel along Mogoditshane road and here was this audacious cop raising his PALM in GRAND style…. Eish the things I think about.

Now, I was drunk and I did not have my license. On a previous occasion, my pal was caught drunk and he failed the breathalyzer. He had to suffer 8,000 Pula in lawyer’s fees for court appearances whereas he should have just declined to take the test and perhaps ran away, only to pay 300 in various fines.

As I approached this cop, my mind was doing all manner of tumble turns… I would be damned if this guy caught me like this. I slowed down to a crawl as I edged towards the kerb. Without notice, I engaged gears and was off like a bat from hell. Vrooooooooooooom and I was away. From the rear view mirror, I saw the dude motion his friend to give chase. All this time I was half wondering how much portion of the tax I pay is used for buying jail food, and perhaps if for once they could serve Hungarian goulash at Christmas.

Three sharp turns later, I had lost the cops and was at the gate of the first party. The security guy let me in and I was shocked to realize that the whole yard was empty. Then it hit me. Darn we had moved from here eons ago. My forgetfulness had almost cost me jail time or at best a fine.

I found my way to the party about an hour later, within which time I had gotten lost about 3 more times.
To date, my ex and her friend are sure that I had gone to hanky panky somewhere…reason being, no one can be that forgetful.

Anger most foul

2005-11-23T07:00:00.000-08:00

Imagine you just got fired from your job. You are angry as hell. At this moment in time, you could crush a marble between yo thumb and index finger. Forget that, you are soooo angry that if you got any angrier you could turn into potential energy, kinetic or whatever.

You have been suspecting that your galfriend is cheating on you. Worse, you think it is your best friend she is cheating with.

You hop into your car and drive off to nowhere in particular coz your head is in a spin. The temple is throbbing and there are a million ways in which you could get your boss to taste like chicken roast…. The pressure builds…..

Its times like these when the libido rises. It is the death of you (xplanation to follow) Yeah true, scientists have proved that during funerals, people are more prone to sexual excitement than any other time. The reasoning they say stems from the fact that humans are engineered to protect their species from extinction.
So, when someone dies, the brain registers that there is one less person and hence we are closer to extinction than the time before that person died. Hormones are released that invoke sexual feelings to continue the species……..

So you drive home, your thoughts toggling from the comfort of your girlfriends embrace and the stake you could drive gleefully through you bosses eye socket. You park your car, and stroll to your apartment. Open the door nonchalantly, take the turn to your room where you can’t remember having left your stereo on….. aah then you remember that she has a key to your house. You are not particularly shocked because she usually comes to chill over when you are at work, so you tiptoe stealthily to surprise her. Yeah, you got fired at 2.00 PM and you usually get home at 7.00PM.

As you open the door, you see your best friend atop your gal romping away to the rhythm of SHE FUCKEN HATES ME……..

Stop! Freeze frame……….!

You have a kitchen knife, steak knife, nyundo, hockeystick, matchbox….. the music changes to milli vanillis IT’S A TRAGEDY FOR ME TO SEE THE DREAM IS OVER…

What do u do………?

Here are the options:

1) Let out a low guttural howl and say “by george what are you doing?” like duh!

2) Gauge out his eyes and make her eat them without chumvi or sauce or vice versa

3) Tie them up together naked then shove them out your 4th floor apartment window.

4) Bludgeon both to death with the nyundo then make them manure for yo potplants

5) Sit down and cry very loudly like a professional mourner from luo nyanza.

6) FAINT

7) Join them for a threesome (Yuck!)

8) Make sure they see you then politely excuse yourself

9) Heat a fork and insert it up both their fart holes

10) Take a picture of them and post it to both their parents

11) SPIT and say tho tho tho (vernacular)

12) Propose to her hastily (it must be your fault that she is cheating)

13) Ask your best friend to beat her up if he wants you to forgive him…he should make sure she loses all hearing in her left ear (it must be her fault she is cheating)

14) Kill them then frame your ex-boss

15) PRAY

I think I would walk in and pretend I didn’t see anything. I would continue talking to them like I would any other day…. Then I would take the knife and start sharpening it as they watch… all the while talking in the friendliest tone I can muster….

I would continue visiting both of them with the same knife and keep sharpening it until they think am mad. I will keep stalking them in that way for a full year. Then I will hook up with someone else and tell them I was just pretending….. takes guts and xter to do that.

Let me know wat you would do… male or female (just reverse roles)

British Nyang'au

2005-11-17T06:40:00.000-08:00

Like I said in my previous post, I was quite the trickster when it came to British bulldog. I used to fungua my miguu top speed towards one direction, then change route without notice. That was my idea of a side-step. Well, it worked really well for me. I used to weave and wind the class as they dived and chased after me. The adrenalin was superior.

Now, i chekked in for my first rooj practice feeling all fit and fab. Our mentors, cruel people I must say employed tactics from early 14th century where they used to smash yo head in with a 76 kilogram mallet to see if you will tell them where the other soldiers were hiding. The guys were daft. They kill you then they expect you to answer them. This crude method of torture actually worked. You can imagine if your best friends head was smashed in and you were next!! Caramba…you would howl out all the hiding places you knew even those that existed in yo sorry best friends smashed brain.

Anyhow, we got to the pitch and briefly we were told that rugby has only 4 pertinent rules.

1) do not jump for the ball under any circumstance
2) always pass the ball backwards
3) endeavor to place the ball behind the posts
4) Never let anyone of the opposite go past you whilst carrying the ball or else they would use the famed mallet on you.

Our masters believed in more action and less talk. Immediately they summoned one of us rabbles to demonstrate.

“Hey rabble…!” thundered one black nyakach ninja with thighs that looked like 45-popeyes. “C’mere….. Cough your noun!@$#’ Dutifully the trembling rabble said his name. Before he could take his next breath, Mr. Nyakach ninja threw the ball high into the air and yelled at Nyangau (his real kisii name meaning warthog or some crazy animal like that) to jump and catch it.
Reflex action checked in and Nyangau leapt into the air like someone just stuck cacti in his gluteus minimae .

The next scene happened in slow motion

Nyangau was in the air, arms spread high over his head as they closed in on the ball. We were all fraught with fear, mouths open like our lives depended on Nyangau catching the oval ball. His eyes were wide his lips pursed like some rude body part….. as he got closer and closer to catching the ball, his mouth started relaxing and I promise I could see a hint of a smile…. Our baby hearts were pounding so hard we could have given the Kenya navy band a ran for their money…..

Just then, the nyakach ninja, black as sin, ugly as a fist, quick as lightening leapt into the air towards poor Nyangau. The boys ribs were exposed and nyakach was approaching like an asteroid recently spurt!
Wham! Thoch! Crack! The two met in the air, nyakachs shoulder in nyangau’s midriff, arms around him, hurtling towards us. We moved and they rolled a mile from where we were. Nyangau lay on the ground, air having been expunged from his miscellaneous orifices…. He was carried to the sanatorium as the rest of us learnt never to jump in rugby.

A month later we were deadly as venom duly injected. I applied all my British bulldog skills and I became an instant celeb. Not quite though…. This guy nyangau had already recuperated and had learnt the art of evasion from his first lesson.

I could take one step to the left at incredible speeds and turn just about immediately to the right, leaving my opponents flat footed. Nyangau on the other hand was cross-eyed. And his legs were in the form of an x. He could ran too… when he ran he looked like he was doing the boogywalk (run?) in electric boogaloo!

No one could catch this bugger. When you looked into his eyes as he approached, it was like he was set to ran left. Rugby being a split second game, you would anticipate and ran left. Lo and behold…you would be left clutching nothing but air or even worse, your teammate’s angry arse. Just when you think you have figured him out, he would look the other direction and you would be left clutchin grass.
This guy was an enigma. All he had to do was ran straight and look in whichever direction he chose to look….it would be comedy because the opposite team would be seen running in all sorts of directions as the dude boogieran to the try line…..

Huh so you think you have figured him out and you decide to look at his legs..my my he left many a determined player more cross-eyed than he was with unevenly placed knees crisscrossing each other without rhythm.

The lessons were learnt early and quick. Thanks to this man, that year we were the best school in rugby in the whole country.

British bulldog

2005-11-16T23:40:00.000-08:00

As a student at one of Kenya’s premiere high schools, I enjoyed the game of rugby immensely. It would make my day if I managed to send an unsuspecting opponent the wrong way as the crowd cheered on.
I must admit that I had an advantage when I checked into first form in as far as this sport is concerned. I had had at least four years experience playing British Bulldog, which was a similar game to rugby, only without the ball. It went something like this..

In order to pick who would be the chaser (no one ever wanted to be the chaser) one had to play the hix. The first three people chosen at random would hold hands and swing them in tune to a song that went thus

Hix hex and smelling socks!!

By the time you get to the word socks, the group (now holding hands) would have swung their hands four times back and forth in tandem, at which point the hands would be released and quickly shoved into the centre of the circle (triangle?) with either palm up or palm facing downwards. Whoever had the odd palm would leave the triangle, making him the winner of that round.

The above exercise would be repeated by replacing the winner with a newbie until all those willing to play get a chance to hix. At the end, two people would remain, and one of the winners would help hix. The person that remains would be in deep trouble…. Let the game begin….

Life is cruel. Somehow, the dweeb of the class or one of his friends always used to get caught out in the hix game. They had no idea that guys used to wink or use some other sign so that they show opposite hands and hence stand a better chance of winning. Imagine, u are in the first group to hix, then you remain within the triangle until the last round of hixing…eish..it was the most traumatizing experience… it would crack us all up as we watched a loser criss and cross his legs, all the while tip toeing as if that would help. We had all passed there at one stage or the other….for those who never played hix, it was more like when the invigilator says 10 minutes to go (to the end of an exam) and u have 20 more questions to answer….

One feels like either peeing or is it cumming? You criss and cross your legs like that will help you remember answers and write faster…. Mmh we have all been there… its called the hix syndrome.

The dweeb of the class must have cumm(pee) like a thousand times. When I think about it in hindsight, it must have been deliberate for him and his cronies to keep being last. Its like the mwenjoyo was too much.

Okay..the game.

Now the last person would get into the middle of the pitch and call whomever he thought he could catch before they crossed to the other end of the pitch. On catching the person, an authentic catch would constitute shouting “one two three british bulldog) while still holding onto the persons shirt or wateva. The guy would then have to help you call out peeps and catch them in similar fashion. If the person you called managed to dodge you and get to the other end of the pitch, then the whole multitude of players would cross to the the same side. All the while, you as the chaser would be trying to catch others as the cross.
Suffice is to say I was always in the last two to be caught. I would dodge a whole class on my own almost three times. Even then they would only catch me coz I would get tired. The other guy was called Ben Collins…. He was very old (we were in primary school). The guy was from Liberia, he had hair allova himself. He was as big as George Weah (at least that’s what our kid minds saw). Imagine we used to pay like one bob in the bus because we were kids. As the conductor reached him one day and he meekly gave out his one bob. “Mzee wacha mchezo” (old man stop playing games) said the irritated conductor. Plead as he might, he had to pay the full adult fare of 2 bob… that was the british bulldog star.

To be continued……

King(ky?)

2005-11-10T03:18:00.000-08:00

Before king met her, he had gone for 53 days without showering because he resented rules that so far had governed his life. You see, king had a rich father who was a devout catholic. As you can guess, king became an altar boy at a very young age. He served diligently and knew all the canons by heart. At home, he had to be scrupulously clean and knew that dinner was at 7.30 and not 7.29.45. This was the life of king before he came to campus.

During his 53 day defiance stint, he smelled like mulch and looked like a hungry walrus.
My other pals and I intentionally ate dinner at 7.30 sharp so that we can avoid eating with him. His defiance had taken knew proportions. When he finally laid eyes on Regina, I got my chance to make my buddy clean once and for all. My story was… “dude, smelling and looking like that, you have as much chance of kissing her as George bush would as a mau mau freedom fighter”. My guy nodded. Anything for Regina. He showered a river. It was muddy I must say. He needed Palmolive, lifebuoy, manila soap (the one that used to be cut by manila string) and perfumed detergent to get him on foam (form?)…

King was ready…

My man king had never seen such a beautiful girl in his life. According to him, she was as hot as an oven in the Kalahari. Indeed, he firmly believed that her bodily proportions embodied much more than the perfect ratio PHI. I sometimes used to wonder whether his mouth could see better than his eyes whenever he saw her. His jaw would drop so low, he looked like a porpoise in labor.

King promised me that he was going to get this girl by hook or crook. The only problem was he was painfully shy. We were all abrasive and used to sing loud rugby songs..many a time making fun of king. Given, he was an averagely good looking guy with lots of money. He was going for a very beautiful chic with lots of money too. It was funny. More like shabba ranks macking on charlize theron….. okay fine, bad example shabba ranks is not average looking.

Regina was one these sophisticated girls. She came from a family that had history. The kind of history that you cannot lie about or make-up because it is written in books by real authors.
She was a devout catholic. She drank water with a straw. She ate cabbages and lettuce in such a way you would think she was eating the best soy latte that u ever had. She was on a perpetual diet.

Imagine her shock when two drunken men check into her room to say hi. I had nothing to lose so I was the first one in… king was tailing me but not so close. I said hi and she smiled.. a bit nervous but she held her cool. King came through and opened his mouth to say hi… the mouth opened and stuck open like one of those stammerers who sometimes cant get the words out on time. We stood a full 11 seconds waiting for sound to come out of kings mouth…. He sensed our bewilderment and I could see him muster all he had to say something….. he opened his mouth even wider… for a minute there I thought I could see his underwear periscopically… then he turned and ran. He took of soo fast that by the time I got to the door, he was nowhere in the hostel.

I sat and explained to Regina that King had never seen anyone so beautiful etc etc. Apparently she was intrigued and couldn’t believe that anyone would like her so much so as to go drink themselves silly then not even get the words out to say hi. I left. King was in the room sitting on his bed, furious at his mouth for failing him at his moment of glory. He had confessed the most hideous of sins to a priest in the confessional but could not say hi to some chic.(talk about gal power)

Anyhow, they met the next Sunday in church. She approached him after mass and wanted to know what that was all about. King, more at ease now, managed to walk her all the way to campus from church, saying the bare minimum to keep her engaged. As luck would have it, engaged they were 3 years later. They got married and had a kid.

Fast forward

Regina got a job and with frienditism employed all of us including her husband. Effectively, we were field officers and she was our boss. She would send us on assignments two by two but with time she learnt that we (single) and king should never be put together. Much as king was the boss at home, she was the boss at office and her word was law.

One day, some demon (he swears that’s what it was) entered his head. We would go out for a drink, and he would go home late and sneak into the maids servants quarters. 30 minutes later, he would appear in the main house all sate and if need be, have another round with unsuspecting wife. (Sorry gals don’t shoot me..am just narrating).

From Reginas point of view, she would hear the characteristic screech of brakes that only Peugeots make, however softly u depress the pedal. Since she would be groggy and asleep, she thought maybe she was just dreaming. 30 minutes later, the guy would pitch. This went on for like 2 months. The 30 minute consistency was too much coincidence and she became suspicious.

Clever Regina one day waited for the opportune time. At 12 midnight, she walked into the maids quarters and and instructed her to go sleep in the main house. She proceeded to switch off the lights and wait. Fifteen minutes later, the familiar screetch of braked happened and she knew she had caught her man…..

King parked his car with ease as he usually did. His wife was deep asleep and his willy was as stiff as an iceberg in mid-winter. He approached the servants quarters stealthily, opened the door without knocking , left the lights off and proceeded to remove his trousers……
My man king apparently was a man of more action than words, he said nothing and felt his way to the bed. He groped the body that was affront him. He touched both hip and boob in practiced fashion and immediately froze like our mid-winter iceberg… This body felt just toooooo familiar. His worst fears were confirmed when the figure in bed got up and switched on the light.

He can’t begin to describe how his stiffy became flaccid in no more than 40 milliseconds. He could not move he could not say sorry and he could not block the punches and kicks that assaulted him. He just watched the movie outta his own skin. The pain was numbed by the embarrassment.
Obviously the maid was fired. Yeah she also got beat.
My man almost divorced. Am happy to say, she forgave him. We still have drinks together till late. When we roast meat or chicken to eat, he does not eat with us. Instead, he wraps his portions and takes it home, wakes his wife and they eat together. He has sworn that never again shall he be unfaithful to his wife. That is why he confessed the story to us in front of his wife.

We all had a good laugh when she remarked that when she switched on the light, he reminded her of the day he first entered her room and couldn’t say hi. His mouth remained open for the duration….

She is still our gal and we love her to bits.

Shrubbometers xtra

2005-11-08T00:50:00.000-08:00

I really enjoyed my high school life. We had all sorts of x-ters, the funniest of whom were the teachers.

Our agric teacher, one Mr. Muranga (real name) was the most hilarious of all. He would say… “Good morning all of you this afternoon, how far did we went last time?” according to him last time is in the past hence the use of the word “went”. His voice was like no other. He would start in a high pitched soprano one, and without warning, his voice would sublime into bass (like the exorcist chic)… He would say.. as he was introducing a new teacher…

Soprano 1… ‘Ngoond morning orr of you nthis afternoon….’ Pause…. Bass… ‘ tonday we have a new tisha …. Soprano 1 …..and although he is a she, you must ngive him maximum respect as you have ngiven me…’ then he would sigh in alto…..

His luhya pal, I forget his name, taught us biology. For the life of me, I could not understand why he used to say masichular waluf!.... yeah..I also couldn’t figure out what he was referring to until I read the text from my book. He was actually referring to the mascular valve…eish masichular waluf!

We had anotha crazy one who would sooner lose his tongue than say “greater than”.
…. His version was .. ngweta than!... since when did the vowels e and a become w? even the greeks would not decipher that one. Even more amazingly, pronouncing the three letter word “yes” was something for us to laugh at… he would start a sentence with “yenz…..” in that annoying singsong kao way… “yenz, three is ngweta than one”. How we would laugh.

Our principal was not bad at all. He knew his stuff. The problem is he was suffering from delusions of grandeur…. The dude was so full of himself. According to him, both staff and pupils were mere earthlings, dispensable at his whim. He would say in his all so important voice…

“You are my prefects….. (Pause for effect)… I appoint you (God save us all).. I can also DISSAPOINT you!”… the nerve of the man… we used to laugh behind his back coz as sophisticated as he thought he was, when he was proposing to his wife he must have had 3 gallons of miti ni dawa. The jamaa was like 6 feet tall..his wife was a miniscule rotund bitter woman. She taught us religious education. Am sure if it was up to her, the Garden of Eden would have had lemons instead of apples….. haha I cant imagine having an adams lemon.

All in all, it was great with our shrubbing teachers…. We had a swell time.

plumbers finance 101

2005-11-03T05:41:00.000-08:00

Being a finance minister is not all that its cracked up to be. A music teacher, plumber, fishmonger, mallet-maker are examples of people who can run the finance ministry in Kenya much better than a certain mwiraria wa mbecha.

I shall illustrate with a budget of 120,135,000 pesa

Assume our fishmonger, trawler hake mac obiero was voted in as minister (with portfolio) in charge of finance, and a little bird whispered to him that he should spend the taxpayer’s money as he would on his own family. I bet he would first:

Buy food 15,000 pesa = sustainability in agriculture, irrigation etc

Pay bills + buy clothes 35,000 pesa= other basic needs e.g. electricity, water, housing projects

Build a house 5 million pesa = proper infrastructure

Start a business 10 million pesa = investing in various manufacturing capacities

Pay school fees 105,000 pesa = manpower planning for the future

Medical aid + insurance 30,000 pesa = essential public utilities

Pays the mboch 5000 pesa =civil servants including ministers

Save 50000 pesa =bank reserves etc

Our finance ministers over the years have been doing the following

Buy food 5,000 pesa = instability in agriculture, irrigation etc + drought

Pay bills + buy clothes 15,000 pesa= other basic needs e.g. electricity, water, housing projects + power blackouts & no water

Build a house 50,000 thousand pesa = improper infrastructure + potholes etc

Start a business 2 million pesa = kickbacks in various manufacturing capacities

Pay school fees 105,000 pesa = free education that exceeds the budget

Medical aid + insurance 10,000 pesa = essential public utilities + ngilu’s clothes

Pays the mboch 200,000,000 pesa =civil servants including ministers

Save 15 pesa =bank reserves etc

Beggars bowl 82,050,015 = IMF donors etc

Our mwirarias are basically going to get loans from the bank so as to pay the mboch and buy sukumawiki. How can the mboch get paid more than all other needs combined.

To add insult to injury, the money they use is the taxpayer’s money hence your money.
Its true that the politicians also pay tax ..but check this out……

Their salaries average on 5000 kenya shillings or something ridiculous like that. That’s what they get taxed on. Funny that with all the perks, they end up getting 700 Kenya shillings per month..amounts which are not taxed. Somebody tell me if there is no rat to smell….

One would wonder why All the finance ministers without exception, fall into this kind of misuse of taxpayers money…..

If a plumber can see that the above budget is totally outrageous, then there must be some motivator that allows these bright guys to behave like this….

My take is that, when budgeting, these guys use politics rather than economics… and we all know that politicians are as crooked as the captains hook..or is it the other way round.

shags snakes and pit latrines

2005-11-01T05:53:00.000-08:00

My bro and I once went to shags for x-mass. Typically, we used spend 2 weeks in there every year. At the time, I had to go there earlier so that I could apply for my ID. The goon of an officer in Westy decided that I must be Ugandan since I come from the border that is Busia.

On arriving in shags, we met all our long lost cousins with names like “pampedo walukumba”, “pancrease amabuoni”, “mcantyre nyamgotho”, “pavement lijoodi” just to name a few. Since we were just the two of us, we invited a feisty relative of ours who could tell the most ridiculous stories. Philipo as he was called felt that he was the don corleone of shags since he used to come to nai quite often….

2 days into our stay there, we were hungry and had to go to the market to look for some fish to cook. Well, off we went to the market. A large array of fish awaited us…catfish, dogfish, tilapia, nile perch, silverfish (popularly known as omena) and obambla (the one that opens like a poetry book)…. With our twenty bob, I picked a sizeable fish that looked fresh…. Phillipo, with a knowing grin, advised me accordingly… u cant buy that fish for twenty…its too small. Let me show you. He proceeded to get a really humongous fish…eii.. it did not look that fresh either. Well, we decided not to argue coz hey, what do we know about fish….

He cooked and we all ate. We slept.

Early the next morning, phillipo and I went to the place where ID’s were being processed. We had to ride on a blakkie for like 20ks before we got there. We only had one blakkie and he insisted that I should be the passenger since am from Nairobi which according to him meant that I was a softie and couldn’t ride a bicycle as well as he could.

All the while, my tummy started grumbling….I felt a polite diarrhoea brew in the pit of my bowels….with every hump we hit, the brew got hotter. Finally we were there and the the officer in charge kept asking me questions I had no idea about..who is yo chief? Sub-chief? Which location do u come from? Sub-location?.. yaani the guy gave me so much grief to the amusement of all the loud luhyas around… hawa watoto wa Nairopi ni wachinka sana hata hawachuweko sapu chiffu bane!

Meantime, I couldn’t care less… my tummy had gone into turbo mode ..vrooooooooom palatatataltaaaaaaaaa. My goodness.. I was about to unleash hake, tilapia, onions, soup and binzari right in front of them loud luhyas! I looked so uncomfortable that the guy just signed my papers pressed my prints as I tiptoed and heeled my feet into the ground… my bum cheeks were tighter than a camels arse in a sandstorm….(shudder shudder as I remember the ordeal)…..

As I got out of the small tin tent, I could barely run… I tiptoed I stopped, I smiled foolishly at guys who were looking at me… I winced, I prayed…my bum was now almost in cramps (u may picture how I am standing now…)
Phillipo was in tears…. His granite stomach could handle the rotten fish we had eaten last nite and he was now here laughing at the softie from nai….(am sure he has added this to his long list of hilarious stories)…..

I managed to get to the shopping centre where I was sure relief was to be complete. As I approached, its like my mutui and tummy had taken a brain of their own..my sphincter muscles started relaxing and the brewing mixture was threatening to tear some capillaries in my naus (sp)…. The shopkeeper at the only store that had a toilet told me very obediently that his boss advised him against giving strangers the key to the toilet.. I pleaded and even offered him money in the most convincing luhya I knew ..the guy wouldn’t budge….

I looked left, then right….then made a beeline to the bush…. I was half running, half stopping, half tiptoeing and it formed a nice pattern for some Russian ballet dancer…only this time my hands were embarrassingly holding my buttocks in a vice like grip….
Miracles do happen…..as I was heading towards the bush, I saw an abandoned primary school pit latrine…. In an instant I was over the fence, taking care not to widen my legs too wide lest I paint the green grass savannah brown…

My trousers and undies came down…. The karangwad fish and all the vitunguus, hot tea, yams etc chomokad and hit the bottom of the latrine before the tears that stung my eyes hit my cheek…eish I was soooo relieved I cried (literally)…. Have u ever shit till u cried and u were not constipated?...try eating rotten fish.

Just as I malizad and used my hanky to freshen up, I heard a hissing sound behind me….
Believe it or not, some greensnake was dangling from the roof of the latrine, staring at my black mutui, ready to chomp away… I tell u that snake has never EVER seen a trouser go up that fast, a door swing open that fast, and a human vamoose into thin air just like that!..poof.. I say it was pure sublimation….

Keep smiling and never eat rotten fish or trust a relative called phillipo

My Queen

2005-10-31T22:45:00.000-08:00

Dear mom

Once again I am not in a position to attend your birthday ceremony due to distance. Anyhow, I shall try and squeeze all my sentiments in this letter. Let me start by saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY and may you have many more to come.

Whilst we were growing up, you were (and still are) a pillar of strength to all of us. You have experienced a lot of trials and tribulations on our behalf over the years, and still managed to come out strong and dignified – we are all grateful for that.

In the face of adversity, you stood by us even when the conditions seemed dreary. Given the choices you had, most people would just abandon ship but you did not. Instead, you worked hard to get us back from the clutches of opportunists. Is it possible to ask for a better mother? I don’t think so.

A wise man once said, “a good mother is a blessing!” Nowhere has that opinion been as true as with our family. We have lived a tenable life where our wants were only material. The love was abundant and the fruits are being born, thanks to your resilience.

Dad (God rest his soul in peace), left us when we were still very young….some of us can’t even remember his face save for the pictures we see. You have kept his memory alive for 24 long years. All this despite the numerous obstacles you have received from your relatives and other ill wishers. You have continued to stand the test of time and also proven that being a single mother is not a handicap.

Times were not always tough. We remember the pancakes, and the impromptu school visits that helped mould our sense of responsibility. The first ‘black and white’ TV, and the carpet (how can we ever forget). It’s amazing how you kept all that together and yet still raise us. In metered doses, we had enough happiness to make us sweet, enough trials to make us strong, and enough sorrows to make us human. That is the way God chose for us.

We are now out in the world and working to make a living. The independent minds you gave each of us are working wonders across various strata. The children now lead as you wanted them to – they have followed the way of the Lord and you are taking that path too. Follow their words keenly because, the knowledge that you imparted on them and the grace of God has shown them the right path to everlasting life.

Keep well and keep happy that we may celebrate life abundantly now and forever.

My Daft White Boss

2005-10-31T04:59:00.000-08:00

My boss joe is a x-ter of sorts… he has a big head and a stomach to match. His tiny small buttox render it difficult for him to find them with his own two hands. A wise man once said “man who sleeps with itchy arse wakes up with smelly fingers”… I guess he was not thinking about my boss Joe.

It is difficult to imagine that he has ever seen his willy because the man was given a tummy and a half. It almost looks like he is 9 months pregnant with twin kangaroos.
Don’t get me wrong, its not that I don’t like kangaroos but my boss joe thinks like a marsupial. He loves to Manage By Walking About (MBWA- dog) and barks orders like one.

The boss of me spends time looking for his next perverted pleasure. He loves to eat small girls. They do not like to be eaten by him but they in turn like to eat his money. I am serious. They eat his money, he eats them and we get to be pressurized to make more money so that they can eat it and he can eat them. I detest being at the bottom of the food chain because I do not get to eat anything.

My boss is not the cleverest man on earth. He is so daft that he cannot tell the difference between the letter “B” and a goat’s hoof. The goon actually thinks that a quarterback is an income tax refund. It took me hours to explain the game to him. His signature looks like a wheel spanner…oh how proud he is of it when he is signing documents he can barely understand.

Anyhow, my boss makes lots of money. He is living proof that the stupidest people make the most money. He is shrewd and has no respect for rules. He says rules re there to be broken.

His favorite saying is Pa! and fuck …….( insert any word). He has the weirdest of clichés. One day he said
Never buy the cow when the milk is free…and the milk is NEVER free…. Maybe he is not so stupid after all.

It doesn’t matter that I write about my boss here since he can barely operate a computer…. He knows that I use windows…. he came and asked me if my computer has doors (Dos) he thinks it is better! I informed him that it is actually Dos and that it is an operating system etc etc…. his answer was quick and curt…. “Your explanation is neither here nor there…. Its all the same thing for as long as you can use it” ….. clever answer for an illiterate man…that’s how he bluffs his way into making money in southern Africa …after all, he is white…he must know what he is talking about!

Alice & Vee

2005-10-31T03:58:00.000-08:00

In Southern africa, it is easier to die of passion killing than It is to get killed by carjackers. My east African friends am sure this may come as a surprise to you but yeah, your chic/guy is more likely to stab, strangle or poison you, before you get a chance to meet face to face with a mavi wielding street urchin whose sole mission in life is to get his next glue fix by threatening to splash you with well-cupped, extremely smelly diarrhea…..

I can trace passion killing directly to infidelity, but am not too sure where infidelity of this proportion came from… I can only hazard a guess which would be from certain archaic cultures…

A certain tribe here used to customarily let the father in law sample the goods of the daughter in law before the son would marry. If she was not good enough then he would have to sample other chix. Mhh..crazy but true. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the father in law only approved after a number of trials and hoped that the second son if any would have better taste in women…. Over the years, people’s minds got eroded to the extent that it really didn’t matter whom u slept with…if u can sleep with your father in law then I guess yo best friends boyfriend would be well just another lay.

Alice was once a firm believer in the goodness of man. She therefore swore to love her man till death do they part. What she did not know is that in southern Africa, the concept of fidelity got lost way before the discovery of diamonds and the influx of immigrants into this rich country..

Her first love, Vee was his name treated her like the last woman on earth with one million well toned men after her. She delighted at his every touch and the way he talked, smoked laughed and even (believe it or not) the smoothness of his elbows! Eish the things women look at!!

One fine evening, a year later, she caught vee canoodling with her best friend. Amidst the throes of passion, vee had forgotten to close the door to his digs and was caught pants down literally. That day, something died in Alice’s heart. She swore never to get hurt again.

A year later, cupid stupid (this guys doesn’t know how to aim his arrows… they always seem to land on the wrong person) struck again. Being a little bit older wiser, she trod carefully biding her time and watching his every move. To cut a long story short, she got caught out again… the dude had slept with half her pals and was still counting…waiting for the right time to pounce on her younger sister! Something died once more.

Alice had learnt the game from the masters. She intended to outdo them all. Using her charm she chowed each and every of her friends boyfriends. In return, they also did the same, and the guys they did it with also begun this vicious cycle

Suffice is to say that generally speaking, it is normal in this place to have yo boy/galfriend cheat on u. Unfortunately that situation is so bad that the only way to keep yo spouse is if she knows unequivocally that you will kill him/her if you caught them cheating.

…. Back to Alice. She stabbed her 15th boyfriend to death and hanged herself after losing hope of ever finding someone who would stay faithful to her.
Whatever happens, until the casual sex culture changes into something less casual, the number of passion killings will keep on rising.

Angel Denno

2005-10-27T02:00:00.000-07:00

I haven’t visited your grave yet
It matters not to me for I was there when you needed me most.
I treasured u in life and I pray for u in death.
You were the best friend I ever had.

My only regret was the day I called you on Thursday
I promised to call u on Saturday and I didn’t…instead, I called on Monday..
U were not there.

A month later, sick in hospital u died, all the while asking for me….

The love of your life is still bitter with me…
She is bitter that I was your best friend.
I have talked to her time and again sometimes she laughs sometimes she cries.
She curses the day she was born because you the only love of her life went without a proper goodbye.

The bad news is she is dying too… I have done my best to make her forgive you.
She is coming around. Thank God for that and I hope that before long her bitterness will subside.

To you my friend, may God give you bigger wings that you may fly all over the heavens like u once did on earth.

All Foam no Beer

2005-10-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

I have seen many beautiful women in my life and yea I have dated some of them too but on the whole, those that really smote me, I never got even to say hi.
As a teen, my libido was just about as confused as a hungry baby in a topless bar. I used to stare at boobs, butts, faces, ears, noses, fingers and just about any part of the female anatomy that my bionic eyes could see… I promise there was a time I must have seen some chics kidney…
I saw sooooo many gals and each day I kept seeing gals who were prettier than than the ones I had seen the previous day…ok u now get the picture of how beauty made me mind go mad and made me eyes see things that only the likes of Michael and Gabriel could see.

Just when I thot I had seen it all, my eyes came to rest at some unimaginably,stupendously, fantabulistic, extracutilicious lass who had absolutely no clue of how dangerous her looks were to the likes of me…. She possessed the kind of beauty that inspired men to sing songs, conquer empires, and invent unimaginable things all geared towards pleasing her. As I stared at her, everything seemed to go in slow motion. I could not help but notice that suddenly the people surrounding her all looked like they were dressed up in dogs dinner….i say she was a rose among thorns.

My main man Denno (R.I.P) was also smitten but not so much as I was. He bet me ten bob that I wouldn’t have the guts to go say hi. I took the challenge shaking like a leaf… I tell u I was as nervous as a hen in luhya-land during x-mass. Slowly I edged towards her and her pals.. they were laughing dancing and generally doing what beautiful gals do best in a party…flaunt!! Eish

As I sized up the opposition, I wondered whether they liked bananas or oranges…one wrong move and I would be the laughing-stock of the party. I did some fancy footwork and the cabbage shoulder thingy to impress so that I could be let into their dancing circle…. I moved close to one of her friend, gave a perky smile and a wink to match, motioning her to let me join in the party. She smiled at me in the trying-yo luck daddy-o kind of way and instantly I knew I was as welcome as a fart in a closed telephone booth.

I beat a hasty retreat as Denno laughed his lungs out. Prettilicious gorgeous did not even notice me..maybe she did but I should have known better than to approach a bunch of chics who evidently were just out to count the number of guys who hit on them and who they hit out at. The single approach was the best. My man Denno didn’t know I had plan B… I let him laugh to his fill as I strategised. Of course this chic was bound to go to the loo sometime… I would waylay her on her way back (a previous experience made me know not to try tune a chic when she was pressed….. that’s a story for anotha day)

Sure enuff, she was on her way to the loo…my muscles tensed and I broke into the now very familiar cold-sweat. As quickly as my hopes rose, they came down crashing. I can never understand why chicks have to go to the loo together, go for the drinks together, dance together….. this was proving to be difficult. I stayed the whole night, marveling at her beauty, and just waiting for her to be solo …..
We left in the morning like everyone else with a mathree to go back home. As fate would have it madam gorgeous was in the very same mathree that we were in.
I mustered my courage .. not because of the ten bob that we had bet, or because of my fear of losing bets, but because of the sinless imperfectless lass primly sat 3 seats away. Believe it or not, as she stood up to alight, 15 minutes later, I was still mustering my courage to go say hi.

What was it with me or is it her that made me sooo stupid??!!!!(scowls) I have done crazier stuff than say hi to a beautiful chic.I have peed in a beer bottle, somersaulted on a tractor tire, eaten green caterpillars in sauce, sailed on a cruiseship, battled with GSU, saved a friend from drowning in a dam, survived an acid attack in Zimbabwe and lived to tell the tale…. In all these things, I never once doubted my ability to stay calm and come through the odd situations smelling like roses. So, what the hell was wrong with me?

Next weekend, and many more weekends after that believe it or not,the above scene replayed itself like de javu once for the second time twice again.
I kept seeing her time and again and my breath would go away and I would swear that I was gonna talk to her and I would lose ten bob for the 32nd time etc etc eish…this was getting out of hand.

A coupla years later, my friend charles and I were soliciting for business from some potential clients and we decided to by them a drink as we talk shop at wine bar. We were running late coz there was no parking space so we parked a couple of blocks away from 20th xentury. As we got into the red fashioned space that was wine bar, I totally stopped in my tracks so suddenly that charles had to check my pulse to see if I was okay…..right in front of me, seated looking as hot as ever…and yes I was right it was not the luminous light that made her teeth so white…my angel was sipping red wine as she chatted with those same friends…..

Charles motioned me to where our guests had already sat and I obliged albeit in a zombie state. I swore to myself (bottles, stones, mirrors and eagles) that I was not going to leave the place before I buy her a drink or at least talk to her. My back was towards them and I kept on shifting uneasily to catch a glimpse of gorgeous personified. The meeting took like 3 years though it ended in like forty five minutes. When I turned to make my move…ya u guessed…she was no longer there….shit

I then relocated to Botswana, forgot about her until this morning…..and am planning on going to Nairobi in December…….lets hope that this time I shall be more beer and less foam.

sexus incubus

2005-10-24T00:16:00.000-07:00

Long long time ago, in the country that I currently reside in, there was drought like has never been seen before. It was soooo bad that the women decided to pray to whoever shall give them rain so that they may have food and drink….. As the story goes, the god of sex ( its actually a demon by the name incubus) approached them and said “I shall release you from your misery, make you rich beyond what you ever imagined and ensure that you shall lack no more.” Mhh….the lore continues ….

The women were so grateful that they promised the god anything it wanted. Well, there is always a catch when dealing with the spirit world. Tokolosi, as the horny spirit is called, wanted to have nocturnal carnal (anal?) knowledge with the daughters of the women who prayed for Pula (rain). Ever since, the superstition of tokolosi has been in southern Africa and on one occasion they actually showed the creature moving within the stomach of an 80-year-old woman on e tv.

Churches such as ZCC claim they can not only excorcise and bind him, but also kill him in his many various forms.. This thing usually cheks in in the form of a 3 foot creature that looks like an upright spiny ant eater…actually, from the description, it reminds me of a creature in the popular comedy Alf.

In 2002, I went to jobo as usual, feeling very energetic and ready to take on the highfliers of the industry. I had donned my suit, tie, cufflinks etc to cut the image of a sleek and upcoming financial analyst. Little did I know that this was the day I would encounter the much dreaded tokolosi….

Fast forward…..

I was sitting in my office, crunching figures and wondering when the next paycheck was gonna come in… I had plans. Just then, one of my work colleagues, lets call her impedimenta, came to ask me something. My eyes were glued on the comp screen but I could see from the corner of my eye that she was approaching me slowly. I heard her burp three times as she quickly turned around and fled to her office!!

Now, this woman was 52 years old then….when you see a big-butted-52-year-old woman takin off like a turbo charged “subru” impreza, you had better follow her with a speed equivalent or more than hers…. I levitated in the air, having no idea how I pushed thru my desk without knocking over my comp. I can ran very fast so in no time (I don’t know why) I caught up with her in her office…my colleague barry was hot on my heels…. On getting to her office, we were astounded at wat we witnessed…..

The kamathe lay supine on the floor of her office, legs splayed for all to see, as she gyrated her hips back and forth in the most lascivicious display….yuck!
Barry and I looked at each other briefly shocked coz we didn’t know that our colleague had epilepsy (or so we thought)…. Incubus this time was in spirit form and barry and I could not see him…only his/her actions on the floor were quite not for our eyes. I then called med rescue to come and assist as I have always been a tad scared of epileptics. Upon their arrival, impedimenta refused to go to hosi but we insisted. Later on, she came back and explained that she is haunted by this spirit called tokolosi and whenever it wants to grab some cookie, it looks for her….nowadays, all she does is read the bible lakini that thing has jammed to go…whenever she feels its going to attack, she goes to the loo….mhh

Time out…gotta go..if she knows I have unleashed this story here, she might send for me the female version of incubus (sucubbus)….. shes goin to the loo now.. I wonder………

heartbreaker

2005-10-21T04:18:00.000-07:00

If you feel like your heart has broken, you're not alone. Just about everyone experiences the type of grief we call heartbreak at one time or another - and some people seem to have their hearts broken many times throughout their lives. Sometimes it feels like all those songs about broken hearts were written just for you and your situation! (at this point I must say Avril has a way with words in her happy ending song)

Lots of things can cause heartbreak. Some people experience the pain of a romantic relationship that ends before they're ready. That is why before you break up with someone, you must reduce your pain as much as possible by learning how to love them less and less until it doesn’t matter whether they stay or go.
Others love someone who doesn't feel the same way (unrequited love it’s called…goo goo dolls hit this one spot on with their love to love you song). Or maybe a person feels heartbreak when a close friend moves out of their life. Although the causes may be different, the feeling of loss is the same (the heart feels heavy, empty, sad etc)

I, went through these feelings when we decided to end our relationship due to continual disappointments, mistrust, miscommunication and a whole load of issues I daren’t include here for privacy’s sake.
We both realized that the pretending the problems will go away was not going to solve the issues and so letting go was more of Hobson’s choice. 2 ½ years is a long time to stay with someone and an awful waste if nothing came out of it especially if u dived into it head, thorax, abdomen, magoti na kisigino.

My advice to u… if it aint working, let it go coz u gonna be a sad person with mob negative energy that’s gonna ruin yo life.

Also, NEVER believe someone who tells you he/she is just a friend….why?!!! u may ask…. It’s because in an infinite world, anything that can happen, will and shall happen (figure that out)

The revenge of Mbuzi choma

2005-10-20T06:12:00.000-07:00

Bruz and bruettes

So I have this pal of mine who has a wicked sense of humor…the one time we were having a 3some chat with baby boo to the both of us (tragic.. yaa… tragic).
The conver started off like an old train from colonial east Africa… clever baby boo let us rant on and on as we both tried our wittiest gyles…well suffice is to say that my ever so creative friend came up with a hilarious story…apparently he swears its tru ( I believe him)…thus goes it:

He had this horny cousin who could contain himself no longer. Unbeknown to him, my pal D was watchin from afar. Cousin h, crouched stealthily and crept inch by inch towards a defenseless goat..(this is no metaphor). A few yards away from the lonely goat, he hurtled through the air Jackie chan style, releasing Mandela from the back of his zip….wham!!! with pinpoint precision, his member landed slap bang in betwixt the surprised goat. The action ended as quick as it began… if u thought that chicken and rabbits are quick lovers then u haven’t seen cousin h yet. Sate and smiling, the dude from shags zipped up and continued doing wateva it is that shags guys do…in the meantime, my pal D was aghast…didn’t know whether to laff or cry because it was xmass time and the goat had to be slaughtered for a great feast!!

A week later, true to tradition, the goat was slaughtered and everyone had a feast…..except my pal D who once again went to watch from afar! Coming from a very religious background, he could not warn anyone lest he be branded messenger of beelzebul(b?) etc etc
As he watched, he saw everyone rarua the delicious meat amidst mirth and drink…. To his utter surprise, cousin h was munchin away when something tragic happened…..D’s eyes widened, and so did H….the dude was choking on the meat!! Tragically, the dude collapsed and died and that was the end of mbuzi choma for my friend D.

Blog Virgin

2005-10-20T05:00:00.000-07:00

Ouch! .... haha.. just kiddin. I thought the first time would hurt lakini am glad that am stunyad. This blog thing i thought, would be a fad that will just go away like tevin campbell et al....lakini the more i surf, the more i read some interestin stuff.

A pal of mine..lets call her blogger xtraordinaire cajoled me somewhat into joinin the bandwagon of cliche-obssessed dudes and dudettes. She blogs like no one else can blog. I have seen her weave yarn from absolutely zilch and i admire that. So i msned her coz i had chewed a brainlock and she decides to tell me that my first blog should be about chat names (c'mon now what kind of mohair izzat to spin yarn?) Anyhow, since i got the topic from bx herself (coincidentally bx is the equivalent for government in Botswana..more like Gk in Kenya) i decided to take heed and try my luck......here go....tremble ...quiver

James:

This was the first name i ever decided to use on mashada chat.. i checked in and tried to "talk" to anyone who cared to read...eish, it was tyt. No one was interested in anything i wanted to say and i said to myself this is bollox.... in my frustration, i asked some chik called honey y she is a snob... she said kama hujui kuchat ondoka hapa na uende kabisaa!! i thot kidogo and unleashed on her...unajiringa nini na asali ni mavi ya nyuki... then i promptly logged off....

feverblister:

this was my favourite name.. apparently i had kissed some chic i wasnt supposed to and nabbed a coldsore(feverblister) so i decided to use that on mashada. Suprisingly, my experience was quite intoxicating with this outrageous name. I actually got noticed by bx because of this and we started chattin... needless to say we became tyter than tyt. Mob pple got to know me and had certain expectations of me so chattin became a series of briddled conversations.. i felt like a muffled horse..eish. ... it was time to change...

fishtears

Amazing.. i have never attracted so many chatters as i did with this name.....after swimming so well in mashada with feverblister, i had to shed a tear or two for my favourite name and adopt a new one fishtears. It did not dissapoint. I a made lots of pals ..cl being my favourite..... again, the expectations arose and i had to change once again..and it has been an everchanging excercise that hits u like a breath of freshair...there is nothing like being anonymous on mashada.. u can chat up an old flame and it turns out as excitin as the first tym u met...the minute u reveal yo identity, poof..just like that, the magic zaps.

The following are just some of my aliases... dont count on catchin me coz i keep changing

adamzrib

blakforest

verbalusdiarrhoea

keep yo chat life interesting by picking compound names with a hilarious twist to them.... am signing out...virgin me....hope it was not so bad..next tym i shall be more experienced cheers.