CRAZY OBSERVATIONS IN MY CRAZY WORLD

Agony of my Nyeri woman

I don’t know about you but for me ,I only need one more day with my ,er, well, Nyeri woman and I will go bonkers !first, she threw me in to panic mode when it downed on me that she had discovered  all my ‘security measures ‘ in place(a karate Gi-(uniform),boxing gloves ,army combat (all bought at gikomba) hanging on one of my bedroom walls ,my tae-kwon-ndoe and other related ‘dangerous’ sports certificate(bought at river road) –spread all over the table, are mere decorations! All these were measures were in place to intimidate her, should need arise, by creating an impression that am a very ‘dangerous’ man ).Upon discovering that I had deemed her ‘a dangerous species ‘ and myself ‘’an endangered one’, a break up was looming ,if the sulking and boycotts were anything to by ,and therefore organizing a ‘hot date’-where I was to re-declare and re-assure her of my love for her-became necessary. After the date and now walking her down Moi Avenue, on our way home, hey presto, the boys in blue pops out of an alley and before I could even scream out loud ‘blue murder’ they arrested me! Reason? Liberally wandering around town with, er, a crude weapon!

* **

What a weekend! But anyway it’s in the bin. And Monday –a very dangerous day to poke fun at my church because the Sunday sermon is still very fresh in the mind-is upon us.

First of all ,bloggers have inundated social media with literature that exploits vulgarity and profanity in a desperate attempt to appeal to a predominately youthful audience .Look, you can appeal to them without necessarily being dirty ,if any one agrees with me ,let me hear you say ‘indeed ,tell them Malesi, and thus I proceed! To those who post dirty pictures, I tell you, bloody kumbaff kabisa!

In that case, I want to take you to church! To begin with, I will throw you in a churchish mood by jogging your memory, with, someone to scream ‘Amen’, a Bible study session of some sort! See, the good book claims that, in the beginning God first created Adam. The unfortunate thing is that the good old book is vague on weather Adam was created as a baby and grew up later on or he was created as an adult. Assuming the former is actually true, I’m tempted to sympathize with how lonely he was! His childhood is a great mystery that I’m very curious about! Just after God split his rib to create Eve-and therefore making procreation a necessity, did He bother to reconstruct Adam’s reproductive system-particularly his gonads, in preparation for that said purpose? That question nags my mind because in the first place it is insinuated that Eve was not in God’s plan (she was just a by-the way after God discovered that Adam was lonely).I have vigorously interacted with the content of `Genesis’ but I just can’t seem to find where it’s explained. Someone please shed some light!

At some point we are also told that Adam and Eve had sons –Cain and Abel who got married but their wives are given a wide berth in the scriptures. Phew! If at all Adam and Eve were the first parents on this planet, then how come this world population is what it is today? Gosh !did I just hear some lunatic cowardly mumble, incest?  Am writing this although tongue-in-cheek, hoping that it does not in any way hinge on blasphemy and that God has sense of humour-in fact chuckling at my thoughts and concerns as I furiously punch away. And while we are at it, has it ever bothered you that the bible has adult content which is not suitable for children? It astounds me that it does not have that warning of parental guidance advised! Just before cursing me, think about that murderous act of Cain killing Abel! The immoral city of Sodom and Gomorrah, the sexual immorality of Lots wife! Not forgetting, it not only baffle but disturbs me that it exposes children to vandalism and violent activities-Moses ‘struck’ (of course violently) a rock causing water, in copious amounts, to pour forth!

Am not so sure but brethren, I suspect one can be forgiven for claiming that the writers of the bible made it a contradiction of itself in many ways, for instance by making Jesus appear to have worked on the Sabbath day when he found hawkers of those days who had turned the church into a Muthurua market of some sort ,people busy haggling and exchanging goods and services before he furiously turned tables .When its clearly said that no one should work on the Sabbath day .Those who wrote it indeed did it in our essence but just forgot to include some of other finer details of God’s work. Methinks.

The problem with my church

I have always had a problem with my catholic people and in fact always doubted the degree of their religiosity .First, majority have not vigorously interacted with the content of the bible, so I suspect. Why am I saying this? None of them has ever won an argument, hands down, against, not necessarily an astute but a regular Muslim brother! Just imagine! And I want disgruntled Catholics and keen observers to back me up on this .Catholics, of course with due respect, don’t carry their bibles to church but hymn books! I just don’t get it! Painful but very true. As if that is not enough, they are never proud of some of their rituals like doing the sign of the cross (which is mandatory) after and before praying for anything that requires Gods guidance .When in a multi-religious group or in public-generally, unlike a coward one who will not risk ‘embarrassing ’himself by even hurriedly sketching the sign of the cross in the air, a ‘brave’ one ,due to his fidelity and loyalty to the religion ,will do it but you will need a third eye to notice it for he will do it unscrupulously .You will see him pretentiously whine(as he physically illustrates) about how he ,one day ,woke up in the morning with a pounding headache- as he itch his forehead, delicately poke the middle of his chest amid sobs  before rubbing his shoulder joints and complain of how weak they were on that day. Before you even think hard enough about it, an epiphany hits you. He just did the sign of the cross but clandestinely. In fact with, as far as street lingo goes, ‘swag’!

What I, however just can’t stop chuckling about is how our priest seem to have a penchant for some weird habit which he doesn’t look like he is about to break any time soon. When it’s time for receiving the Holy Communion-my favourite routine by the way, he, with a very strict face, slowww-ly tilts the chalice, keen to allow us not to even sip the wine but to only wet the tips of our tongues! Gosh! And when we are done and it’s his turn to do so, he excitedly rubs his hands in glee before grabbing the chalice-the suppressed smile on his face speaks it all, and swigs a massive gulp again and again until the darn one –litre jar runs dry! Jesus! Did I mention that he, at times shamelessly burps, once he has dispatched all ze wine. Upon seeing such, tell me which typical rascal will not want to be a priest ‘when he grows up’!

Look, another thing is this idea of church proceedings being overly conservative. This should come to an end. This idea of all priests desperately attempting to outdo the Pope, in as far as being holly is concerned, is not exciting, at all. And the only time when they, for instance, talk about violence is when they are talking about Jesus ‘breaking’ bread!  Incorporate some news things. Let’s not just do the same old routines over and over again. It gets boring. For instance, Let the priests marry, bring in Djs to do live mixes during praise and worship, let people learn and speak in tongues and so on and so forth! Like in protestant churches, you know! (See, the last time I went to a protestant church, courtesy of my handicap in that sector of speaking in tongues ,I was caught off-guard when need arose! I felt odd and out of place for I could not engage in that said ritual and had no other option other than lip-synching-throughout the session- to my favourite catholic songs  ‘Tukutendereza Yesu’ and ‘Ave Maria’(hail Mary) ) And that ,in my esteemed view is where , someone say riswa , church reforms should begin-a catholic spring!

Away from that, Folks, am a believer-am not smart enough to be an atheist, so don’t roll your eyes in bewilderment, in fact in that case I want to start a church cum a bar under one roof. Conventional wisdom has it that those are the most lucrative businesses .As we speak I am on recruitment drive scouting for a pastor! For an interested candidate, in your C.V you must have experience in performing land mark miracles. For ushers ,I can only entrust you with my sadaka after you have proved your honesty beyond reasonable doubt and the only way to do that is to provide me with a certificate of good conduct from your sub chief, police or any other authority!

***

Am just imagining ,what would have been the case had not two but just one of our council askaris (kanjo)been the one perpetrated that ‘mob justice ’ upon that gentleman from Nazareth-Jesus, would he have even made it to the cross in one solid piece –as we see him there-INRI(look at that Jesus piece hanging around your neck-no serious scar, no fractured limb but a few traces of blood and tears here and there).These council bandits would have beaten him senseless, in fact to a pulp-how would we have even collected anything to fix on the cross?

I know someone is reading this and forming at the mouth wishing that I go to hell .See, if God who created you and me with a sense of humour its very likely that he too has it, in fact, in abundance, who knows! And that, brethren, is where I will end this commentary.

Folks, Happy Easter Holidays.

I CAN’T WAIT TO BE AN OLD MAN

You notice you are old when your favourite part of the news paper is that ’30 years ago today’ or ‘on this date 19-twenty or thirty-something!’! Old men, relax. I know you are already itching to hurl a barrage of curses in my direction.Hehe, isn’t it interesting to , of course with due respect, poke fun at senior citizens? To start with, when you have just graduated to be a senior citizen you don’t notice that you are one and hence you get startled when addressed as one. And nine out of ten times you always get totally peeved and express that view in a rather robust way-verbally combative! Habari yako mzee? A young person respectfully addresses you. Click! Mzee ni wewe, you instantly fire back, in fact with an award winning sneer on your face. For those people who are old, like I already mentioned, most of them rarely notice it. And in that case, to help you know that indeed old age has caught up with you and that you are merely surviving on borrowed days like Michuki and Karume have been doing, I will give out a few pointers. Folks, you notice you are old when you give up on lying to young people about your age and instead brag about it! Or when you always have a feeling that you know everything and have lots of answers-masquerading as a ‘consultant’, but nobody bothers to ask questions! Or when you turn off lights in your bedroom due to economic reasons rather than romantic ones! When you get tired so easily upon little fun being introduced to your work and you find fun very tiring work, my friend, you are pretty much an old person! Or better yet ,when friends ,relatives and associates call you at times when regular folks are busy ‘building the nation’ say at midday for instance, and the first thing they always say is ‘sorry ,have I just woken you up?’ you are an old timer. You have to marvel at how old people always imagine that the gory details of their dirty secrets are safe with their age mates when in actual sense, they just can’t member a thing! Enough! I believe the point is home and there is no need to belabour it. After all growing old, unlike growing up which is a matter of choice, is mandatory!

 

Women like older men .And this has nothing to do with their performance in matters horizontal acrobatics. It’s because they are wiser and closer to God. However that is not my inspiration to wanting to grow old, it’s the comfort and fringe benefits like getting away with mistakes that come with that tag Mzee! I will explain.

Recently, I visited my old man and I was pleasantly surprised that old age is catching up with him, in fact at a very dangerous velocity. The old geezer seemed to be loving and enjoying every bit of it. I could not help but envy his lifestyle!

 

Meet my old man. Looking at him from a far, his long beard would make you think of him as a man hiding and peeping at you from a thick bush! With his built physique, he actually cuts a very intimidating figure. During my visit, I kept on scrutinizing him and I noted, with much concern, so many changes. He has increasingly become so insistent on constantly doing things in a rather strange way. First, he now punctuates his conversations with proverbs and saying! When giving advice he must sneak in an analogy or two. Another thing that I noted is that he, more often, tosses a question in ones direction and before you even supply an answer, he immediately interjects by throwing in his own answer .And he moves on swiftly! As if that is not enough, the old man just can’t whisper (his could be a throat made in china, I mused).Common courtesy and proper public decorum dictates that when you are seeking someone’s privacy –in public, you whisper to them. Shit, my old man knows none of that, you whisper to him, for instance a question, hoping that he will whisper back, shock on you for he will unwittingly embarrass you big time. He whispers loudly (read shout) back not even the answer but the same question you asked as if to clarify. Gosh! There are certain aspects of his mannerism that kept on tickling my funny bone and whenever he did them, I found myself rolling on the ground in uncontrollable laughter. You will see him grip –as if to pinch, the knee area of his trousers and pull them up before sitting down! When you tell him something and he doesn’t hear you, he never bothers to ask to be pardoned; he instead gives a fake smile! And if it’s for instance a difficult question, which perhaps requires more brain power or deep thinking, to jog his memory, the old man always looks up in the sky with his nose pointing straight up in the air!

 

For you to realize that smokers have taken away the shine from it, you have to see him do his thing. There is away he twists his lips making the smoke to sneak out in some very intricate and spectacular patterns. You might be tempted to think it’s some art work of some sort.

 

All this psychoanalysis was taking place while the two of us sat beneath a tree shade as we pontificated about life-in general. Young people lack agenda, he started. Say what? I asked with a rather concerned tone. You heard it ,he shot back and went on to rant about how young people have taken away melody and content from music ,romance from love ,commitment from marriage…what else do you plan to mess up with? He sarcastically asked. Before I could interject in defence of young people, perhaps eliminating us the old people from your youthful world? He mumbled under his breath. One hell of a scoff. He is very annoying but in an interesting way. At that point, I kept quiet and listened keenly. This old man must be the rude customer (yes, every shopkeeper ‘boasts’ of one or two customers of this variety) to all the five shopkeepers at our local market! I mused.

 

You’ve got to love some of his witty rejoinders, which fly out of his mouth effortlessly. On the question concerning how a hustler can get rich and wealthy-eventually, before I could even finish it he had already answered it: watch what poor people do and avoid it by all means necessary! Folks, I highly suspect old age sort of refines ones sense of humour .I noted tremendous improvement in this old man for he has developed a wicked sense of humour. Back in the day he was pretty much of an authoritarian and in fact his attempt at jokes used to miserably backfire. And in a bid to appease him I used to secretly tickle myself (literally) to laugh. Today he does not need to open his mouth to crack you up, he does practical jokes!

 

Hanging out with him is amazing .A jolly good fellow, if you ask me. When he wants to say something, which he deems to be of utmost importance, he has a ritual which he religiously performs! He will spite in the distance, for special effects –I suspect, further arrest your attention by shamelessly picking his nose and then closely examine the content, rolls it on the tip of his finger nails before flicking it away! Woe unto you if you appear not to be keenly paying attention for he will toss it in your face.yuk!

 

Old men get away with a lot of shit, I tell you. After hanging out with him and observing some of the things he was doing ,I learnt that ,as an old man you can for instance walk out of a boring meeting ,especially in the village where people deliberately beat by the bush to ostensibly kill time(those ones where every speaker before saying anything must emphasize, reinforce ,add on ,make much on ,underscore what a previous speaker said!..eeh first of all I want to emphasize on what Githinji and Mathenge said..And shit like that) and upon being asked to explain your technical disappearance you simply say ‘I was tired’. And you get away with it.

 

As an old man, you are above all sorts of authority. My old man brazenly flaunts all sorts of rules and regulations with impunity. He is never bothered with small time gestures of respect to authority or customs like chucking out his hat, be it in those serious government offices or even in church. And him removing his hat can only be exclusively necessitated by one circumstance and that is when his shinny bald is critically short of two vital supplies: fresh air and vitamins D.Even when getting into those provincial administration offices, the ever intimidating stone faced cops (in their full regalia –playfully tapping their swagger sticks in their palms or firmly tucked under their armpits) scares nothing out of him. As you cowardly chuck your hat and say hi to them or better yet, wet your pants at their sight before requesting to gain entry, he casually says to them habari ya vijana and walks in without bothering to listen how they answer him. Him and his hat are tight. I proved this during a burglary incident in the neck of our hoods. Buglers broke into a neighbour’s house in the dead of the night and upon the alarm being raised, a window of opportunity had presented itself for people to flaunt and show off (of course unwittingly) some of the things that that they hide during the day(torn under wears for sleeping, funny looking gowns that masquerade as night dresses, birthday suits, tired calico patched pyjamas).Am sure keen observers had expected to see his bald but wapi!Much to their surprise ,the old geezer ,in all his glory, hurriedly arrived at the scene with one outstanding feature on his head-his hat!Kwani does he sleep with his hat on ?One naughty loud mouth wondered loudly.

 

The old man has a way with words .Malesi, are you still my son or you changed your mind? He always asks when he wants to request for a favour. One of his age mates had once confided in me that he is cunning and crafty to the core. I doubted, but this was to come to pass one evening when my attempts to get him fulfil an old promise he had made –to buy me beer, hit a dead end. He had been promising to buy me beer ‘next time’ we will be together at the local watering hole in vain. He claims that there is a price you pay for being his son! I indeed paid that price the last time I attempted to get him buy me that said drink. He ,just after the second beer, pretended to be so inebriated and kept on pretentiously craning and sticking out his neck (albeit avoiding the eye of the barmaid)all over as if not to in a position to see the barmaid within earshot. Never mind at that point in time he was secretly stealing glances at me –from the corner of his eye ,whilst shouting softly at the barmaid as if to get her attention .I gave up.

GOSH!DID BRUSHING TEETH BECOME ILLEGAL IN THIS TOWN?

As aman you notice you have bad breath when a lady reaches for her
purse and gets you mint!women unlike men ,tend to be extremely sensive to
smell.And they hate aibu ndogondogo(small time embarassment) ocasioned
by ,say for instance, poor oral hygiene.This perhaps explains whay at
times when you sneak on a ladies privacy you might ,among some other weird stuff ,see her
breath in her palm to examine how fresh her breath is!And upon
sniffing it you might hear her worriedly complain(to herself) …oh my
God!kwani what did i eat ,I have to freshen up!… They rarely stand
this bad breath in men.

 

A lady can easily tell a man about his bad breath or get
creative about it by simply passin him mint!Or even cut you short in
the middle of avery serious explanation of ,for instance, why the
shilling is performing poorly at the stock market ,to give you
unsolicited advice about the best tooth paste brand in the
market!Trust me as aman you cant do the same to alady(that she has bad
breath)-there is no creative or diplomatic way to do it,and if there
is a man reading this and he thinks that there is a way you can tell
that to a lady(and still go ahead to perhaps succesfully serenade her)
let him step forward!

Look,some ladies in this town wil have to be serious in as far as oral
hygien is concerned.This morning I had an opportunity to enjoy the
displeasure of sitting next to a very cute lady(who, and i will be
honest,had initially gotten me struck by the cupid’s arrow and
thoroughly smitten) but with -heck,i dont have a nice way to call it-bad breath.Yuk!So bad that she dint have to open her mouth(trust me,it was firmly shut) for the fetid to hit me ,it was
sneaking out through,i suspect, her nostrils!Hehe!To
a point of me not knowin what to do exactly-to inhale or just die!Just
imagine!As if that was enough,there was also these pungent smell
wafting from beneath her seat, which i discovered afterwards were her
smelly feet.Gosh!Trust me she dint have to chuck her sandak(she had
those tu grey shoes ladies like) for the smell to spread
around and have a nose on collision with it,all she needed was to
tilt her feet and twinle her toes!And that was it.

 

This got me imagining that if at all
she doesnt give adamn about her general body hygiene,more so oral,then
it follows that she is very filthy inwards-sorry to say this,she most
probably had a dirty underwear(surely even if you are a busy lady,as
many allege to be nowadays,how long does it take one to wash
a G-string(a garment of less than 2cm surface are).And your guess is
right-she most probably doesnt take care of her private bush ,down
there!She even made my mind get more ‘dirtier’ but lets be honest with
each other here,this are the kind of ladies who ,when you are busy
plaughing her you cant concentrate because you are always earger to
see some of the wild animals(ofcourse adorned in gloves and gumboots
because no self respecting wild animal might risk its health by venturin in
such afilthy ‘ecosystem’ without the said safety parephanelia or tools!)
that will pop out helter skelter for you hav tinkered with their
habitat!

Hell broke lose wen i requested to know her ‘noun’.Infact I regret
because at that point is when she opened her mouth and the non stop yapping begun!I saw it come but for some strange reasons I overlooked the prospect of her not just talking too fast but a lot.That is ,if her pointed mandibula and lips were anything to by by because upon seeing them ,I was immediately
reminded of the noisy and irritant weaver bird!As she was busy
‘parroting’ about anything and everything-particularly those that i
had not asked about,she ‘sparayed’ copious amounts of saliva in my
face!Yuk!As if that was not sufficient torture to turn off
a brother,She ,like most other people with bad breath,even after my desperate attempts to use affirmative cues like constantly using an approving head
nod(albeit facing away),she did not only find it neccessary to first of
all arrest my attention by beckoning me, before talking straight in my
face but insisted on whispering things not in my ear but in my
nose,Jeez!Never mind she was not even about to show sign of running short
of saliva-if the quantity of saliva sprayed in my face was anything to
go by!

 

At some point,after turning my nose up in disgust numerous
times, I thought of whining loud …naomba makanga aingilie kati anisaidie…
now that its nolonger invogue to say naomba serikali blah blah! Bt i
just gave up all together.When she stretched her hands ,if what i saw
underthere was not something that resembled a birds nest but a bushy
armpit,i quickly apologise.One would be forgiven for imagining that
she had a portable septic tank(you guys call it a sewage?) in her armpits.Or better yet ,that the resilient
good people of Dandora community and the now eco-friendly management of
the city coucil of nairobi ,under the stewardship of the ever hard
working mayor George Aladwa together with the industrious Town clerk Philip kisia
had eventually (after a long tussle) successfully reached an agreement
and relocated the famous Dandora dumping site to her mouth!phew!

THE PROBLEM WITH WOMEN

Any serious sociologist will tell you that men and women are fundamentally different when it comes to how they socialize. Have you ever noticed how we (men) typically interact? In a proper mantalk we banter, insult, tease and use playful putdowns but we just don’t mean it. Women on the other hand, compliment, pat and rub each others lower backs as you share those sob akiwoiye moments and empathize with each other but unfortunately they also just don’t mean it. Women’s problems lie in their weaknesses i.e. they don’t allow any one to say anything negative to them even if it’s aimed at `building’ them. Women are so used to being pampered, sweet-talked and flattered; sisters if it is flattery you expected from me, am sorry imagine you are not getting it this morning. If you are reading me for the first time and therefore unaccustomed to my style, you will definitely find me very confronting and upsetting but at the end of the day am empowering you. Here I go.

Women, they say you can’t live without them and you can’t live with them (could they be that necessary evil?).Other than being reputed as multitasking geeks, women are also known to be creatures that can subsist on two basic needs-compliments and attention and that is it. Don’t be surprised that under such circumstances, they might still struggle to lose weight in pursuit of some anorexic standards of beauty when everyone else is starving. Very interesting species, I tell you.

The reality of the 21st century is that men and women don’t need each other thaaat much like it used to be back in the day. Probably because women are in the process of getting liberated economically but they are not yet there. And men on the other hand took the game a notch higher and got liberated courtesy of technology-washing machine, microwave, vacuum cleaner need I say more.

Clearly, a wife’s job opportunities in a man’s house are getting slimmer. Some women are in these marriages purely on humanitarian grounds-a ticket for a free meal, comfort, financial security, you know-it’s a lose-lose situation for men. Their (women) utility in a man’s household is slowly but surely decreasing, in fact to almost zero. And it all started when women started downsizing on femininity in their endeavors to acquire masculine attributes.

As a safety precaution, men have become too preoccupied with guarding their egos against being bruised by these masculine women. To qualify my argument I will tell you this, I have, for instance in the recent past, noticed that my ego (an aspect of masculinity that I hold in very high esteem) has become endangered. Of late, I have never managed to win an argument with a lady not because am not that astute but its due to the fact that as a man I automatically become handicapped by virtue of there being a need to be objective and to make sense during arguments. Women easily get away with being subjective. How do you win over someone who is constantly running her mouth and not only want to win all the arguments but to bruise your ego whenever her strategies seem to be running out of steam?

Look, everyone is entitled to speaking crap and bullshitting but many female species are now abusing that privilege. And there’s the rub-they verbalize the fact that they are not, pardon the pun, taking things lying down (maybe they now want to take it standing up, who knows).They want to be on top, they don’t want to be down, they don’t want any games with men and whatnot. The only game I suspect they are still interested in or can entertain from men, and I say it tongue-in-cheek, is foreplay.

The changing times and the so called women liberation have come up with a conspiracy to siphon the male power. This partly explains why men are very confrontational towards women and gentlemen are no more (you remember those days when men of this variety were in high supply?)Have you never wondered why even cute ladies today no longer get away with bad behaviors nor do they get the benefit of the doubt like it used to be? Women stirred the hornets’ nest and this social disorganization is a fruit of their labor.

Where did the rain start beating women?

When you look at women’s problems retrospectively, you will agree with me that their problems worsened with the invention of relationships magazines. When you look at relationships magazines, most of them are by women about men and for women-gosh! What a folly. To be brutally honest, women have been exchanging lies and other hypothesis that have never stood test of scrutiny from time immemorial and in the process proliferating ignorance about men.

Women get conned so easily .Am not writing this proclaiming that men don’t get conned .See, when you want to cone a man through a magazine all you need to do is to put a very cute lady on the cover but you don’t put a cover on the lady. Fortunately men always get to know whether or not that they have been conned upon interacting vigorously with the content of the magazine. Women on the other hand, they have never notice that they are being conned by investing in those magazines. I will explain.

It’s common to see a magazine run a title like `A thousand and one ways to please a man’ or ‘what men want from women’. The tragic irony of it is that the author of such is always a woman-What does she know about what men want or like? She has never been a man. It is an open secret that women are their own worst enemies’ .Let be honest with each other here, who wants to see their enemy prosper? You catch my drift?

There was one ‘romance expert’ who while I was going through her hundreds of ways to make a man love you more she talked of ‘taking a bath with him’ It tickled my funny bone and I found myself rolling on the ground with laughter. After thinking hard enough about it, I got disturbed because I wondered whether she was sure of what she was talking about .Men after a shower we always blow our nose and pee in the water. Never mind in such hard economic times ,in a bid to a void wasting tissue paper we walk straight to the bathtub from the loo.If swimming in such concoction of filth is romantic, then that said ‘expert’ should have her head examined rather urgently

Clever ones saw light long ago and when they have problems with their men they always consult men. Methinks it’s ironic for a lady who has a marital issue to visit a consortium of divorcees for consultancy.

Women are not real

Women are pretentious and you can’t really tell what they want. They still beat by the bush. A lady meets a potentially good man but she pretends not to be interested in him by examining her general disposition. Look, the new millennium man has no time to give you a second chance to be nice for him to break ice one more time. Why would he do that when there is someone else desperately waiting for her first chance?

Be yourself and accept things the way they are pegging competition on every aspect of you life wont cut it-who has the most fake eye lashes,nails,hair and whatnot is much ado about nothing. When you time is up, please age gracefully. I mean at age 40 you just cant have an apple bottom, onion booty nah, forget.

A man to fix

Another problem is that women are always looking for a man to fix , you have never wondered why they are always fascinated with bad boys? They want that bad-boy not because he meets the mythical standard that they have been looking for from time immemorial (tall dark and handsome).It’s because they want to fix him, they want to correct him( maybe into husband material unfortunately for someone else).Maybe perhaps the thrill of correcting and fixing is such an awesome experience ,who knows. One thing I used to know about the bad boys is that they had the ability to fake everything except ‘tall dark and handsome’. The funny thing is that even when they accidentally land a Mr. Right or nice guy, they still want to fix him and change him not into a bad boy but a superman of some sort. Now, that’s always the breaking point of most relationships-when a woman wants to change a man.

Communication

One of the other big problems is women’s inability to effectively communicate. Women are in the habit of communicating using cues and hinting, which unfortunately men are very poor at. Men are handicapped when it comes to interpreting or reading body language and cues. It’s perfectly in order to use that when communicating with fellow women but not with men. xowi ,xaxa, xoxo and k does not exist in the vocabulary of any man, when you use them ,clearly there is a lingual breakdown. I for instance dated some woman for three solid years and she has never told me to do anything, she instead always asked questions and from which I was to figure out what she wanted me to do. Hun why are you not closing the door behind you? Why don’t you ever do this or that to me? Never mind at that point we are not using sign or body language but verbal language-the most effective and the highest human level of communication that God intended.

Another bad advice women like sharing with each other is that all men are bad except Jesus. I hate it when I hear women refer to men as dogs, beasts and shit like that one thing I know about men is that they are all TEACHERS.

HUSTLING

Image via Wikipedia

Being a hustler is better than being underemployed in the sense that a hustler,say a pickpocket for example is his own boss.No body yells instructions at him and the money he makes has no limit.An underemployed guy on the other hand other than being yelled at he is paid peanuts an the very peanuts are not paid on time.When you think hard enough about it ,you will envy ,for instance ,his flexible working hours and many others.Your problems can never be the same ,When you are busy worrying about your fake made-in–china Nokia phone lacking the ability to dispatch audios and images via blue tooth,him is concerned with why his inferior `original’ contraption of a phone(likely assembled by kamau ,mathenge et al along river road) Nokla made in Chania –to be precise,only loads a maximum of bamba 20 and when bamba 100 is loaded ,80 bob is automatically send to his Mpesa account.Ha!

Getting a job nowadays is not the easiest thing. Even if you do, we all know employees are mean like hell out here. Different people are engaging in different activities just to enable them make an extra coin. Those employed too claim that they are hustling ,you know –moonlighting for an extra coin.At times you have to work so hard like an immigrant.Many people have ended up with split personalities. We have heard of cases of some crooks who masquerade as blind beggars who when they are not winking at cute lady passers- by, they complain when you give them fake currency. Such characters are normally very strategic –they know the very ‘lucrative’ street corners and that’s where they pitch tent as they ply their trade. If you are well dressed and you deny them a hand out,trust me they sulk big time.And when they get wind of the fact that council askaris are around the corner they always bolt at a velocity that is kin to Usain’s speed without the aid of their walking stick.

No single city dweller lacks aside hustle, if they are not trying their hand on farming they are in a business of some sort. Many are in fact diversifying and spreading the risks-just in case.

On Monday the fellow is a part time carpenter, on Tuesday he loiters around the estate with a smoky tin with some burning charcoal ,some strips of plastic ‘spare parts’ propped in his hind pocket repairing plastic wares for a small fee, on Wednesday he is at the local market adorned in tattered clads selling weed but guised as a miraa dealer. In every market place there is always a guy selling weed but purporting to be selling something else legal .The remaining days of the week the hustler is a hawker –a very daunting task, I tell you. And to most hustlers hawking is their forte. Some have a way of forming an intimidatingly scary face that makes you buy an overpriced product that you absolutely don’t need not because of ignorance but just because they look potentially violent and look like they can unleash terror or punch you in short order if you turn them down. I mean why would a grown man who considers himself sufficiently sophisticated buy a pencil and a rubber from a rude hawker on a bus while on his way to eat Christmas in his village?

Let’s delve into the psychology of a hawker and examine the wisdom behind his split personalities. A hawker in Nairobi has the spirit of a hustler and the determination of a bee. One would be forgiven for imagining that all city hawkers went to the same post graduate school and graduated with a master’s degree in multi-tasking. A seasoned hawker does five jobs in one. He must be a sprinter, to enable him put together all his wares and disappear in the thin air in split seconds just in case one of those mavi ya kuku city moments that call for helter-skelter scattering arise.

First of all other than the obvious sales he does, he is doing marketing, advertising, providing his own security and while at it, there is always that illegal product-weed(of course), in his underwear pocket which he only sells to specific clientele .He can’t sell it to a stranger you must be recommended by one of his regulars.

When he is precariously dangling a made-in-china underwear in a potential customer’s face while smiling, he is ready to immediately frown and hurl a tirade at the very customer just in case he proves to be uncooperative and condescending .The very hawker as he does that he is also craning his neck and peering in the distance to see whether a council askari is approaching. And once in awhile these askaris ambush them and without mumbling a word launch an attack-kamikaze style. In such situations a good hawkers is always equipped with multi-fighting skills –I mean how do you describe a man who starts a fight with a group of armed and brutish council askari when he clearly knows that he has no insurance? Before they arrest you, you put up a spirited fight because if you don’t by the time they get you to their cells, they will have clobbered you about your head with countless number of knobkerries and your relatives will have a problem of differentiating your face with that of Tsvangirai.Talk of jerks of all trades and masters of none.

THE MOST IMMORAL PLACES

Image via Wikipedia

If you consider yourself sufficiently immoral and therefore places like Koinange Street, brothels and facebook are pretty much your day and night physical addresses, trust me a venture at a massage parlor, a disco or a swimming pool will inevitably earn you a culture shock. Brothels have a long way to go if at all they intend to outdo massage parlors in as far as being the most immoral place is concerned. I will explain.

First of all I will begin by making a confession. Even in this day and age when every Kenyan is pretending to be sophisticated, I am not sufficiently acquainted with some aspects of sophistication and a perfect example is massage .I just don’t get it how a normal human being will allow another person, and mind you, of the opposite gender to caress them repeatedly without either of the parties getting aroused. Not me, that mumbo jumbo was not invented for me. Am as sensitive as the genitals and massage is not my gorogoro of busaa, oh, I mean cup of tea. With the urge and desire ‘to belong’ nagging my mind, the other day I decided to stroll into a massage palor, you know, like any other urbanite. Why I say this is one of the most immoral places is because those procuring the service always have other ulterior motives which `genital-men’ like yours truly can’t resist.

It was in this massage parlor that I had an epiphany which made me experience a eureka moment of some sort-my head (get your mind off the gutter am taking about the one on top of my shoulders) is an erogenous zone. Whenever she massaged my head there was some tingling sensation that ran down my spine causing my hands to want to actualize the Yellow pages slogan `let your fingers do the walking’. I almost got possessed with an ‘evil’ spirit which in as far as street lingo goes is referred to as roho mtaka vitu. This was one of those moments when the flesh is willing but the spirit and soul are weak. A very cute lady, I must say. One of those very cute perfect female strangers you would catch a grenade for.

We were only the two of us in the room with some smooth RnB playing in the back ground-Christina Millan’s `dip it low’ to be precise. For special effect like setting the mood, I suspect.  Her way of doing customer care is what got me mouth agape. She was using what I call `the supermarket approach’ where by everything is put on display. Talk of taking customer care to another level. In the first place, I could not concentrate and I kept on loosing focus. Her dress code was a clear evidence of the fact that she has absolutely no regard for the textile industry. Her mammary glands on the other hand were near popping out and upon seeing them I instantly became thirsty, need I say the seductive mischief she was engaging in other than just doing the massage?

I could not concentrate not because I was enjoying the service but because I subjected to multitasking of some sort. Folks, the only multitasking am familiar with is walking and whistling or humming at the same time, period. There I was sheepishly staring at her bulgy bust, responding to the therapy and communicating back to her-you know, whispering instruction, attempting but unsuccessfully keeping eye contact. Not an easy fit to achieve, I tell you. At some point it became even worse when I was in the upside down position because I was desperately trying to communicate with my ‘magic stick ‘pleading with it not to swell and shame me. The lady made things worse and I guess it was deliberate because she kept on rubbing the neighboring areas relentlessly in a manner likely to suggest something else. A very clever lady, I tell you, working on all my erogenous zones and the look on her face suggested that she was enjoying it even more than me who was going to pay for the service. Of course this made me totally peeved, mid the session I almost kicked a storm and protested over the same and demands the bill to be split 50-50.You don’t want to know how I got out of this place……

Discos/night clubs

Owing to the fact that I have these young handsome baby face devoid of any beard ,I always run in trouble with bouncers whenever I attempt to gain entry into night clubs, they assume am under 18.Whenever I go to any club ,there is always that bouncer who always acts like a bull in a china shop. He never misses a chance to lose an opportunity to be nice. The idiot is always reckless to the core. This time around my entry strategy got him napping on the job. You are wondering how I did it? I dressed up in black from head to toe, taking the advantage of my deep dark complexion, all I needed was, take a good hunch of this , to shut my mouth and close my eyes and viola! I found myself in the club without much ado, hehe. If you always get freezed at clubs, try my strategy but at your own risk.

Have you ever wondered why they discriminate on who gets in the club and who doesn’t? What goes on in there is grossly immoral and management always encourage it by deliberately making the lighting very dim and the Dj makes matters worse by making it cacophonous with blaring sirens ,breaking glasses and whatnot. Some of the going-ons in the club made me a very worried sinner. Trust me you, If we (average and regular sinners) are not careful and work hard, we will miss out on space in hell. Some of the things that happen in this night clubs are grave. Let me dwell on the dancing style that caught my attention-Bend Over. If you have patronized our discos of late you might have noticed this new dancing style called bend over .I keenly paid attention to this immorality and I concluded that it doesn’t qualify to be a dancing style.

A style so dirty that it was banned it its country of origin how it remain legal here, I don’t know. The inventors of the style illegally gained access to this country and what they did to our sisters only God knows .Our girls must know that there are better and descent ways to get themselves to YouTube other than just dirty dancing. Just like it takes two to tango, it also takes two, and of the opposite gender, to do a `bend over’. The two purports to be dancing but if you keenly observe you will notice that much as the lady does the bending, writhing and vigorously shoving her posterior in the groin area of the lad behind her, it pains me to report here that ,the young man is always his own fantasy world. He is not dancing per say, he appears to be unsuccessfully trying to `penetrate’ somewhere and his dirty imaginations are guised by the fact that he does it with the rhythm of the song.

Swimming pool

This is another very immoral place. Look, if you are interested in watching nudity or people casually and liberally walking around in skimpy under wears without any moralist opening their mouth to curse, then at a swimming pool is where you need to be. I think this place is so immoral that any biologically normal `genital-man’ can’t resist blood rushing south.

Whenever am at a swimming pool I rarely get an opportunity to swim and enjoy the water .This happens not because I don’t know how to swim but because am self conscious about my manhood and more than often, I spend most of my time `manually regulating’ its size. We all know women and their fascination for politics of size. Women at a swimming pool are never there to swim. Yes, this is a serious scandal and I have the full dossier. When they are not tempting men through indecent exposure ,they are busy scrutinizing whose `magic stick’ is `big’ and who’s is `small’. Woe unto you if you are a man who likes swimming but you are not blessed down there-you are the laughing stock. They are always in two groups, those in water are there to tempt men and those who sit at the pool side discuss and judge `size’. When I discovered this, I gave up on swimming.

Brethren I am still agonizing my last experience at the swimming pool… From the changing room I strolled towards the pool and before I could get in water my third leg had already swelled beyond limit. Shit. I had no other option other than immediately diving in water to hide it because I had noticed some lady who was sitting by the poolside, and I suspect my predicament had tickled her fancy, all I remember is seeing her uncontrollably rolling on the ground with laughter. Poor me. So when it was time to leave again another predicament befell me and I could not come out of the water 30 minutes after the gentleman in charge of the swimming pool had announced that time was up. The cold water had made my `Abdala’ to shrink beyond limit. Those are the times he looks like a weary and emaciated thirsty slave. My fidelity and loyalty to `Abdala’ could not allow me to expose him to women in that form-He was in bad shape and size.You know the way swimming costumes never hide or lie about your size. Am sure many men can relate to this because there is that `respectable’ size you always want women to associate you with. I had to spend another 30 minutes in water doing nothing but just `activating’ `Abdala’ (by all means necessary playing with him, caressing, name them) to that `respectable room-temperature’ size. Ladies please next time you see a brother spend so much time in water long after he is done with swimming please understand, will you? I don’t think I will ever go to such an immoral place.

WE (FAT PEOPLE) NEED AN ASSOCIATION

Image via Wikipedia

At times being a Kenyan is a tragedy, and it is in fact worse if you are a private citizen like yours truly. Yesterday I woke up feeling under the weather but as a victim of necessities who had lost passion in his work, academia and life in general, other than being petty and bothering government to timely intervene (serikali iingilie kati…) seeking divine intervention was a preeminent option. In the past few weeks I had a bunch of problems ranging from those to do with coming up with daily survival tactics like moonlighting as a violent knife-point robber(I cant afford a gun),you know, daily bread issues to trivial ones like my neighbor’s intimidatingly fat cockroach which kept on sneaking into my house not to share or even enjoy my lifestyle but to compete and jostle for space with me on my sofa(am sure this was not one of the regular cockroaches born and bred in my household ,I don’t allow them to eat with impunity nor do I allow them to access a balanced diet-I at least deny them vitamins D.I highly suspect that citizens interested in promoting local tourism will soon be required to visit my neighbor to satisfy that necessity. Am not interested in landing this country in a diplomatic raw with China so I wont even attempt comparing how fake this roach looked like to a china made product ,all I can say is that this particular one looked like it had undergone some genetic modification of some sort. And I digress.

Church is one place I last visited, by mistake, seven years ago not because I was one of those overly religious or spiritual brethren by then but how I found myself in there was basically necessitated by circumstances. I can’t clearly remember, but I highly suspect if it was not a Christmas ceremony then definitely it was on that day I mysteriously found myself enjoying the shelter of that said place upon being ambushed by an abrupt heavy down pour.

As I queue to buy breakfast at this Nakumatt supermarket in my hood, the lady serving me decides to mess up my morning by almost killing my enthusiasm instantly by giving me change which included some `moist’ notes. Pthow.And I highly suspect that could have been the handiwork of one of those bulky women who pretend not to be in a position to afford a purse and therefore keep money in very weird places like in their bras, along their waist lines and in their armpits. This was a very serious scandal and I promise to kick a storm and protest next time it happens.

When I board a matatu to get to church, another lady of the same persuasion unashamedly subjects me to harASSment of some sort. Yet we both had paid for our individual sits, it’s not like she had paid for two sits only for me to plant myself on her second sit on humanitarian grounds or anything. My friend it is a proper scandal to sheepishly board a matatu and sit down without scrutinizing the `sitting allowance ‘of the person you are sitting next to. While in church, it got to that point where the priest requests members to show peace to each other by shaking their hands and hey presto, the bulky lady immediately behind me shakes my hand with her very `moist’ hand…..what is it with this people and `moisture’ I wondered……

To be perfectly honest, society is very judgmental and discriminative to people with generous body sizes. Being a fat person comes with a lot of profiling .Travails of fat people are quite many and are perpetuated in both subtle and overt ways .The discrimination of fat people is in most cases based on trivial things like negative and demeaning nicknames ‘fatsource’ which bruises ones ego and lower self esteem. This in a way makes one feel inadequate. The problem with being fat is that you don’t notice that you are fat, I recently discovered ten pointers/tips that can help one know that they are fat, tip no.1-a very common one but we (fat guys) rarely notice it. When you take a shower and you always get tired and start sweating in the process and waste a couple of seconds wiping your sweat before proceeding, my friend you are FAT. If you can only see your private parts by using a mirror my friend you are pretty much a fat person……

As a fat person, when you walk into a building you attract attention but for all the wrong reasons .People will start gossiping about you especially if you have wardrobe malfunction (which is the case nine out of ten times) .The good thing is that they do this under their breath, no one can risk talking shit or backbiting you loudly.

It’s understandable that most fat people rarely get the right size of their cloths or shoes, hence their careless dress code –this devastates them but they always lack other options. It is common to see those plus size ladies lack the right bra size or even inner pants –it is common to see them adorn bras which divide their mammary glands into four equal parts or pants which divide their posteriors into four equal parts but its never their wish. Getting the right and fitting mutumba clothes is also an uphill task to them. If you have been keen enough you probably have noticed that most of those `things’ they adorn as clothes have along way to go if they at all intend to compete with clothes that regular people adorn. They all seem to fancy buggy attire; a plus size lady buys what a regular lady would call a maternity dress and only accessorizes it with a rope, looks at herself in the mirror, and likes what she sees so much that she christens it `Sunday best.’

Keeping up with the latest fads and fashions is difficult in that most designers bother less about the ‘plus’ size people. New trends by and large target people with mean body sizes. On matters to do with fashion people merely tolerate you and don’t appreciate your efforts. For a lady who is embarrassingly big many things will unavoidably backfire. You attempt putting on a trouser, your expanding waist and midriff bulges over the trouser making you look like you borrowed it. If you have been keen enough may be by now you have noticed that they gave up on fashion long time ago and resorted to tom-boy like attires.

When you are fat people tend to overestimate your age and expect too much from you in all aspects even if you are young, many will think you are a grown up and there for expect mature behaviors and conduct from you and also adult-like intelligence. Skinny people don’t spare you with insults when you make silly mistakes watu wengine wanatumianga akili kama kofia (how can such a grown ass person do such a silly thing?) They always wonder.  When a fat person is arrested, cops always demand bigger bribes from them assuming that the generous body size is assign of lavish living.

Employers are very reluctant when it comes to hiring fat people .There is a fallacy that fat people are inefficient .Most bosses think that they are sluggish, lethargic, lazy and food addicts .When skinny people silently break wind in public –especially in congested places say in the lift, in a matatu, everybody disgustingly turns around and suspiciously looks at any fat person around.

Getting a mate as a fat person is also a problem, because most people both male and female believe that fat people are not adequately romantic, lack table manners, they lack a sense of fashion and style. The physical presence of plus size lady is in itself a security threat –ask any man out there.

On the flipside, fat people are jolly good fellows with some amazing wit; any psychologist will tell you that. When you are fat and underage and you walk in to a club, bouncers rarely freeze you .They often think you are an adult and therefore guaranteed entry with out much ado.When you get into a scuffle or an argument, and people piss you off, the moment you frown and threaten to robustly express your displeasure people immediately withdraw and coil back. You always get right of way in human traffic-nobody wants to be involved in a head –on coalition with you, they walk far away from you and those behind you on the street repetitively dodge to avoid you hitting them with your bulging arms. When you get in a bank hall or any other place where people are lining up for a service, you easily bulldoze your way forward to the front of the queue. To you decorum and protocol always takes a back sit, so what the heck?

In case any nutritionists are reading this they should be ashamed of themselves. What is that nonsense they always tell fat people `observe your diet, watch what you eat ’ and shit like that as if there is any fat individual who is daft enough to eat with closed eyes. If anything some of this fat individuals work so hard to have those bodies it is not that they are just lazy bums who sit and eat, they work to have and maintain those bodies. In a nutshell, we just need a union the catalogue of our travails is quite lengthy. I rest my case; over to you skinny guys now give us tips on how to lose weight.

RANDOM CRAZY THOUGHTS

Image via Wikipedia

You notice you are broke when you get yourself window-shopping in very unlikely places like*wink**wink* the butchery or at a kiosk. Personally I noticed that am experiencing a recession when I found myself attempting, but in vain, to sell tips on how to coax a jiko to rage (pepeta iwake tips) in exchange for a meal of ugali matumbo(tripe) to Githinji-the guy who does the outdoor grilling at my local eatery. This are the times you just wish that Loliondo concoction had medicinal properties not just to manage but to permanently cure complications like hunger pangs.   Look, in this town like I always say there are people who make shit happen and there are those who shit happens to. If you belong to the latter group then clap for yourself because you have inspired this post.

O.k. I confess am not one of those Kenyan who make the economy of this dear nation tick and therefore I have no moral authority to comment on the economic state of our nation. But truth be told, things are thick out here and brothers are paying for basic commodities through their noses. Society has suddenly become anti-social, `no idling here’, `usikojoe hapa’, ` hakuna kazi usiulize’, `this plot is not for sale’ and shit like that. And I have noted with concern that even dingy slum-hotel with very dirty kitchens (in which uncooperative insects like flies still adorn gumboots and gloves for fear of coming in contact with germs) are audacious enough to stick on their kitchen doors stickers which communicate in a rather pompous and rude way `NO ENTRY, ONLY STAFF by management’, management my foot? Nkt.They should be ashamed of themselves. Another thing I have also noted is that in such places when you complain about the quantity of food served on your plate and demand that they increase the quantity, all they do is take it to the kitchen, put it on a smaller plate and waste a few minutes to make you think that they are actually adding more but wapi (nothing).

Getting a job has become such an uphill task, and I remember a few years ago we had plenty of jobs particularly those whose only qualification was muscle, aggression and brutality combined with poor social skills and ineffective communication skills-you know, a bouncer, a Nairobi city council askari…name them. Jobs with only one job description i.e. .YOUR EGO AND THE FORCE WITH WHICH YOU USE TO EXECUTE YOUR DUTIES MUST BE INVERSELY PROPORTIONAL TO YOUR SALARY. Today these jobs are no more. If there are any left, then still, Mathenge (your truant classmate who dropped out of school by simply strolling out of your class two-afternoon maths lesson and enrolled at a local gym the very afternoon) is more qualified than you.Reason? Mathenge’s C.V shows that he is been in practice (read, shoving uncooperative drunkards at night clubs) and therefore more `experienced’ than you.Shit.

Things are thick and you don’t want to know some of the daily, but weird, survival tactics that some folks have devised to see them through this hard times. A few weeks ago I remember I had a Facebook status that read…akiwioye nimemiss ule boy aliimba ile song ya ocha! ocha! narudi ocha!…and I even made a very big mistake of requesting anyone who knew him to tell him to come back to Nairobi because apparently by then things were not thaaat bad but hey kijana if you are reading this please don’t dare come back.Hapa Nairobi ni kiherehere tu tunafanya but we are in shit, we are no longer surviving we are just existing because it is said that man must live and live abundantly.

Here is tip no.1When the going gets tough and you have no option all you need is ten bob to buy rat poison and swallow an under dose of it. That can’t kill you but `experts ‘claim that it is sufficient to guarantee one a convulsion which is at least a reasonable rationale for one to be admitted at a hospital .If you dint know, being admitted in hospital will assure you a meal ticket for all the three meals in a day.You can imagine accessing a balanced diet meal for two or three strong days at the expense of your friends and relatives, hehe.

The most affected group are our dear brothers-idlers, they are so desperate and like government, they  have joined the bandwagon of those engaged in this lucrative activity of `passing the extra cost to mwananchi’ -they have hiked the fee they charge for giving directions to people who are lost in town. They are very enterprising, I tell you. Others are just praying and hoping not to get a job but for an opportunity to occur for them to vent their frustration and anger by either descending on a petty thief say pick-pocket. You know at times because of the congestion in town once in awhile your hand lands in the pocket of the person with whom you are jostling for space as you make way through crowds, woe unto you if it lands in the pocket of such a frustrated guy because he will raise an alarm and mob justice will beat you to pulp. Alternatively they deliberately tempt strangers for the slightest provocation particularly on trivial things like a breach of urinal etiquette (read peeking at their manhood at the urinal) to unleash terror on them in short order-kamikaze style.look,you idler who does this ,please stop, the only person you should vent your anger on is that man who pees hard in the trench splashing urine on others and in the process he unashamedly decides to break wind loudly and instantly frowns, not that innocent Kenyan who ,in the spirit of nation building, promotes `local tourism’ at the urinal.

‘SOPHISTICATION’

If the seedy and dingy down town establishments of Nairobi are pretty much more of your fun time physical addresses, then a curious venture in any of those uptown establishments will inevitably earn you a culture shock.How can a grown ass man eat bread and beer?

As I once said, there is a lot of ‘acting’ that goes on in uptown. I know of guys who patronize those seedy pubs in river road for what we call ‘makali’ in as far as street lingo goes and when they are partially tipsy is when they stagger towards uptown where they buy one over-priced beer which they nurse and address the whole night. The interesting thing with those seedy sides of town is that when you walk say for instance along river-road being a victim of a pick-pocket rip-off is a standard. Those boys a very smooth, you don’t even notice when they visit your pocket. Thank God some of us are so accustomed to that lifestyle and while there your hand instinctively gets into your pocket after every five seconds just to check whether the 50 bob you had is still safe…

Here is sophistication now.

Some of my friends are of the sophisticated variety. And I like that. But you know, some people in this town need to get serious. I remember sometimes back I jokingly talked about this on face book but my advice seems to have fallen on deaf ears. I mean whenever I bump in to a lady friend of mine who I haven’t seen in along while and I ask them what they have been up to, in a bid to appear sophisticated the all seem to be having the same answer-I have been modeling.Shit.Modeling my neck? Telling a brother that ‘I have been modeling with this or that company seems to be the new fad. Like media, am also probing but the only difference is that I do it with decorum. Trouble always sneaks in whenever I pop question number two, which perhaps is the most important question. Which product/brand have you been marketing Mary? They always start biting their tongues and fumbling with words. At that point I always get nervous and a bit jittery. You know am one of those guys who don’t like [a] embarrassing people and [b] being embarrassed on behalf of people.

To suffice the situation ,I always interject with a more simpler question which of course doesn’t require a lot of thinking or brain power to answer-that which only requires a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ kind of answer,..I hope you are good? I always ask, you know. I mean is modeling the new morality in town? Maybe I missed the damn memo. Some must just mention the fact t hat they are bloggers. Having ‘mulikad’ the girl child does not necessarily mean that the boy child is doing well, no, he is not. If they are not trying to talk with that American twang, then they are trying to hum or sing some lil Wayne shit, but of course off beat.look, I bump into Mathenge along Moi avenue-this is the guy who a few months ago was speaking ‘genge’ 24/7 and he only attempted broken English while seducing a woman .Mind you he is the one who taught me the genge word for weed-ndukulu,and here he is unashamedly trying to talk like, of all the people, P-diddy (read ‘puffy’ because I suspect that’s the name he is using this week) .Shit.There are some things you don’t attempt here.P-diddy posses for the photos with a tooth pick at the corner of his mouth but they still consider him ‘cool’. As a Kenyan, if you attempt that trust me it will backfire.

I hold my peace and act like I haven’t noticed, after awhile the bugger flips and starts talking like tony Montana you remember in the movie Scarface? Almost like Ocampo but with some enthusiasms) I still play daft, and struggle to maintain my composure. There is something particular about how he was constructing and ending his sentences that kept on getting on my nerves. All his sentences were punctuated with…Youknowhatam saying’…Youknowhat I mean? Shit.A waste of a verbal resource if you ask me.

I can stand that Kenyan chic who goes to India and comes back with an American twang which can’t afford her the proper pronunciation of common Swahili words like chai moto and the for instead she says chai mouto or simply chai moro but I can’t stand Mathenge who has not travelled outside Kenya attempting that American twang.. As we stroll down the street I notice something particular about his walking style-some weird swagger which I can only compare to that of a sweet-sixteen teenager under the influence of some rogue hormones.

People should not struggle so hard to appear sophisticated; there are some people who sophistication oozes out of them-why struggle to speak with the American accent at the expense of clarity? When you hang out with sophisticated people you don’t need to ask, names like Pius are pronounced as‘payas’ and they proceed with the conversation as if nothing has happened. A name like Tobias is pronounced as ‘tobayas’ and so on and so forth. At times you just don’t get what they are saying-they can say ‘gerarahi’ when they actually mean …`get out of here’. Some people actually believe that that being sophisticated is all about being a clueless idiot about Kiswahili or sheng.

Some bugger make it even worse ,say they are in an office setting and he gets a phone call, you will see him stick the phone between his shoulder and his tilted head because apparently his hands are busy doing nothing. One hand could be playing with a pen while the other is, say delicately massaging his thigh. When you force some of these pronunciations, you sound so unnatural and people will notice.

We are not proud of being Africans. When I watch international news channels like Aljazeera, some of their anchors and reporters have a heavy Arabic accent and they don’t give a damn.Here everyone wants to have either an American accent or British.whats wrong with us? But as they say ,the most difficult thing at times is being yourself.

I GOT ATTACKED

Image by frivolous_accumulation via Flickr

Ohh men, yesternight was the shit.Imagine she came again and in fact unannounced .She came straight into my bedroom .I told you she is a freak to the core. There she was butt- naked, humming some erotic tunes and doing some dirty dancing, you know, the usual ritual. She was all over my body, mind you I was fast asleep but like I once told you my skin is as sensitive as the genitals so I immediately woke up. Before I could even scream mpango wa kando, she started touching, licking and sucking…And hey presto I gave it to her.Shit, that malaria causing female anopheles mosquito……

Here is the story

Some Kenyans will have to style up otherwise we won’t achieve vision 2030(notice the way we link everything to that pipe dream?) I remember telling you that while at ACCESS, I used to get to that place late but I used to make up for it by leaving early. When I left that organization they wrote me a bad recommendation letter which prompted me to change my behaviors particularly concerning time. Am very particular with time nowadays, in case of meeting, am always at the venue in time and after the meeting is over I still postpone my departure with a few minutes.

The other day I got holed up in a meeting and most of the guys in attendance were older and therefore they wasted a lot of time talking and at times repeating themselves. One of the guys presiding over the meeting was very vocal and verbally combative, you know talking as if he was in some sort of a protest. You can’t shut him down. So when I thought that they were about to wrap it up, another older guy wakes up to talk (a fairly old guy who if my eyes dint deceive me, could be 65-ish or if not, then he is headed there and in fact at a very dangerous velocity if his wrinkles infested face was anything to go by) so there I was bored to death, in fact I had switched off as they run their mouths. Two things were on my mind ,one ,security on my way back home because it was already 8 and it didn’t look like we were halfway the meeting and two, I was missing facebook because there was this chic I had just in boxed and therefore eagerly expecting her response.

You know these old men drive, and when I say they drive I don’t mean those jalopies which only enable one to move from point A to point B,no, they drive serious cars. Cars that a clever Kenyan would categorize under veblem goods. So they forget that yours truly has been and still is loyal to matatus and not just because he is broke but because he is a patriot who believes in job creation. Can I hear some tout say Amen!

I remember two year ago, if you have been religiously reading me, I told you that there is a lot of insecurity in the neck of my hood and even those uncooperative and notorious nocturnal insects like mosquitoes don’t come out at night to look for their daily(should I say nightly?)bread(oh sorry blood).And mind you here we get robbed like on a daily basis and at times when you have no cash on you, you announce it to avoid any struggle. Otherwise if you don’t and let then struggle with you, you will be thoroughly fixed in fact like a snake upon realizing that you don’t even have 50bob in your pockets. The most heart breaking thing is that here you get robbed by boys you know very well. The very boys you see during the day read borrowed news papers on that neighborhood kinyozi’s verandah as they whine about that know-it-all government officials.

It’s unfortunate because some of these robbery  incidents always time when the dogs in our neighborhood are on ago-slow because of petty things like what happened the other week-they were on some sort of a hunger strike and nobody gave a hoot.  And I digress.

So the old men in the meeting talk, talk and talk as if in a competition to outdo each other in being boring. They all seem to be having the same monotonous and boring introductory remarks …well ahhh (as they clear throats) let me recap what so and so said he had a very valid point…they keep on doing this as they waste time…thank you very much…they have said all I wanted to say but kindly allow me to emphasize what Mr.Githinji has just said..And am like what the hell, Githinji already put that point across …of course nobody heard me say that. You know the kind of gibberish you just mumble under your breath as you log into facebook while at a meeting? I call it the ‘mscheeew’ moment.

Cases of insecurity are on the rise, you have probably heard of weird cases like that one which involved  carjackers who got car jacked .In the neck of my hood thugs are always prowling as early as 6, liberally smoking weed as they casually talk about guys they robbed the previous night.

After Githinji and company delay me in the meeting I go get accosted with thugs. Shit.

…Where is the money? Was the first question they tossed in my direction? Which money? I shot back….kijana we will waste you, tutakuchangia maumivu kwa mwili…   by the time we are done with you you will be waste material, you think we are here for fun? At that point I mellowed down and attempted to be apologetic by telling them …ata mimi ni mwizi tu kama nyinyi but leo sijafanikiwa(am also a thug like you but today I have not managed to rob anyone otherwise we would have shared the loot)

You don’t want to know what happened to m e after saying that sheepish statement. I had opened the Pandora’s box.wauwauwau those boys descended on me mercilessly. There was this beefy and chubby boy who resembled Githongo (yes, that internationally known Kenyan whistle blower) who was very quick to answer my somewhat sarcastic questions….unatuita sisi wezi?so I quickly interject and tell him that …mimi ndio mwizi bt leo sijapata kitu…I shot back.ooohh k,nyinyi ndio mnaibianga watu apa usiku?the other skinny boy yelled at me.

Mind you at that point they were busy working on me ,one was busy squeezing my two ‘cotyledons I could scream `consultation’ one was already ransacking my pockets .you know am normally good at engaging thugs especially of this variety who don’t operate  with guns. But the problem with this ones was that they attacked me from the right hand side otherwise I would have managed them had they attacked from the left. I tried to pull that jet lee signature move of an upper-cut simultaneously followed with a hook and a flying kick but wapi,I dint execute it properly so I landed on my nose. So I attempt the last technique which I have always used .I dangerously and violently shove my hand into my ‘made in china’ underwear (cow boy) as if to reach for a dangerous weapon but wapi! The idiots are not moved and instead one of them slaps me very hard across my face and in the process I lose almost a half a litre of my saliva.

In my pocket I had a Motorola c113-Avery dangerous gadget if you ask me. If I had a more serious phone it would have sufficed my predicament of walking at night with 50 bob, they advised…next time tembeanga na simu ya maana…is this thing a phone or just a means of communication? The stocky guy asked rhetorically of course not expecting an answer judging by the way he ended it, with a mscheew nkt.when you get robbed at night and you don’t have enough cash on you, you get punished for it. For me it was simple, they tagged me along forcefully .so we bump into another victim who we were to rob. The guy dint even waste a second he immediately gets into his pocket and voila he unleashes a dagger and hurriedly draws it and yell out loud..Eeeeii banaa acheni mchezo, iko nini ata Mimi nko job tuheshimiane. At this point it was helter skelter.Thats how I escaped and got home at around 3 topless and in my underwear.