RANDOM
THOUGHTS 1
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On a day when
you want to say a big thank you to your hardworking limbs -especially for
surviving 8% VAT- you will possibly buy a piece of tender meat. You will drop
the cut pieces into the cooking pot and set it upon the gas burner. You will
perform all rituals that are necessary for the meat to taste better.
The cooking
pot will hum beautifully to comfort the raging flames from the gas burner, as
it exhales hot steam. The pieces of meat will twist and turn as they are carelessly thrown about by the boiling water, which will later
metamorphose into soup.
Then you
remember that meat tastes better when salt is added. You go for the salt but
realise you have none. The shops are closed and your neighbours went to bed
early. You almost hate them for sleeping early. How dare they, when you have no
salt? You swear you are never going to marry their daughters. Not even for
free. You want to experiment with lemon, but the idea sounds like nonsense. But
then, man must live.
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Tragedy is when
your wallet is going through economic melt down and you go to your usual Mama
Njeri's food kiosk. You order 'Madondo Chapo' even though you need not order,
because Mama Njeri already knows what you always eat.
Mama Njeri
places a generous serving of your favourite delicacy before you and you prepare
to have some fellowship with the spoon and the plate. You even add a little
'pilipili na chumvi kwa umbaaaaaaali' to activate your salivary glands.
Then, a
loaded guy sits next to you and orders 'ugali'
and beef stew. That is when your whole system gets confused. Your heart misses
a few beats, your salivary glands go on strike and your digestive system groans
with disapproval. Your system is not happy because the aroma going through your nostrils does not correspond with what your tongue is tasting. You can hear
noises of celebration in the guy's mouth as he chews and swallows huge lumps of
ugali, chased down with appetizing meat.
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Sometimes, you
meet a long lost friend, then you indulge in an animated conversation.
The
conversation will drag on about your High School or college days, before
finally settling on careers, politics and family issues.
Then, there
is that point in the conversation, when you get to no man's land and you no
longer have anything to talk about, but your spirit and his or her spirit feels
like you should still hold on abit, to see whether the conversation can still
be resurrected.
But the
conversation has lost it's juice and you are almost reaching the point where
you start conversing about bland topics like whether or not it will rain today
or some other time in future.
The
conversation is on it's death bed and it is now being dominated by meaningless
sounds like enhe, eh!, mnh, Aha, woi, mmm, Aaaaa, Oooooh and a misplaced and
prolonged ooookey.
That is when
you know you need an exit strategy.
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There are times
when you dress like a suspicious character, then you happen to walk towards a
particular direction.
You are a
man and men are no longer to be trusted, because they have been committing unthinkable felonies of late.
In Front of
you is a lady, who is walking ahead and minding her own business. You are also
minding your own business.
Unfortunately,
she seems to be going where you are going and so, whenever she turns to a
particular path, you also turn towards the same path. She starts suspecting
that you are following her.
Anxiety
grips her. She starts running and she wants to scream. That is when you find
yourself between a rock and a hard place.
If you run
away from her, you will look guilty. If you run after her, to assure her that
you mean no harm you will also look guilty.
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God indeed works
in mysterious ways and I am saying this because yesterday, Francis Gitau (a
father of twins)fainted somewhere in Narok after after his wife Jacinta Mwihaki
gave birth to triplets.
The number of members in this family now stands at 7, up from 4.
I have always wondered why would God would deny a rich family kids, only to
give them in abundance to a struggling family? This man, Francis might have
been thinking of adding one more child to make them 3 only for the forces of
nature to work against him. Surely, how could this happen at a time when we are
struggling to come to terms with 8% VAT?
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Have you ever
heard someone hurl such humongous insults at another person, to the extent that
the devil himself or herself takes a break to record them (insults) for future
use?
Well, there
is this guy in Kitengela who is believed to have smoked 'fagi' aka bhang at
some point in life. It is also rumoured that he boiled marijuana leaves and
drank the soup. He is the only Associate Professor in the area of insults. He
can easily paralyse you with insults if you mess up with him.
The guy spews
dirty words like a burst sewer pipe. He can call you names of certain parts of
your anatomy using different languages including mandarin.
The only
saving grace is that he cannot fight, so he sometimes meets guys who straighten
him out with a few slaps. The problem is, even when he is down, his brain never
stops manufacturing insults, and his mouth never stops working overtime. He
always has the last laugh no matter how much you beat him.
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'Tulicheswa my
frens'. I remember in high school, some teachers used to tell us to wake up
early and work hard so that in future we can sleep all we want. That was when
we were teenagers, a time when sleep was the greatest source of pleasure in the
universe. As a teen, you could literally sleep for the whole day and night
without even feeling bad.
Now in adulthood, I have realised that I do not even sleep that
much. There are so many plans running through my head. Sleeping past 6am,
makes me feel very guilty. That is when I toss and turn uncomfortably until I
am forced to just call it quits and just get up. A tough boss, 'bibi kali',
troublesome husband, 16 % VAT, demolitions, bad investments, thugs, lost bets,
screaming babies and unrealized dreams will all conspire to give you a dose of
sleepless nights.
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There are those
days you visit your favourite barber and you want to shave like a youngster, or
an oldman who is young at heart. Then, you notice your receding hairline and
you change your mind and go for a school cut, but without a cut.
You want to tell your barber, "Na uchonge hiyo ndevu sawa
sawa", but you discover that such things are only possible for people who
have a fully grown beard and not those with scanty beards, which makes their
faces look like an arid and semi-arid areas.
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Njoroge aka Man
Njoro has learnt a lot from the 'Mtunze Punda Akutunze Radio Program'. That is
why he never whips his donkey, unlike some folks in Munyaka (Eldoret). Instead,
he has cultivated a special relationship with his donkey, where they
communicate using a special language. He treats his donkey like his soulmate.
I have heard
rumours that the donkey even enjoys special delicacies such as Mandazi, Fanta
and Delmonte (dessert) as well as maize cobs, sukuma wiki, cabbages (main meal) among others. In addition, the male
donkey enjoys off days, as well as an opportunity to look for 'girl friends'.
The problem is that the owners of the other donkeys do not give them such
breaks, so Man Njoro's donkey is still single and searching.
It is possibly
for these reasons that when Njoro recently left his donkey with his mom and dad
for two days, the donkey refused to eat. The donkey went on hunger strike until
Njoroge came back. Phew!
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When the economy
is bad, people tend to disagree over very petty issues. Two days ago, somewhere
in Kitengela, 'Mama Ciru' quarrelled with 'Olemasai' over a water tank.
'Olemasai'
was angry that Mama Ciru's water tank was leaning on the wall of his building.
Both of them sell fresh water. There was a time when Olemasai enjoyed some kind
of monopoly but since Mama ciru was added into the equation, he lost that privilege.
The problem
is, they were forced to split the customers and
since Mama Ciru smiles alot, she attracted more customers (including yours
truly). That is possibly the sole reason why Olemasai is pissed off.
Then there are
guys who almost fought, over a maize cob. The bone of contention was, the
question as to who ordered which maize cob first. Each of them wanted a
specific maize cob, and none of them wanted to share it with the other. Those
are the trickle down effects of 16 % VAT on fuel.
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When someone
tells you that 'bangi si sukuma wiki', you have to take them seriously,
especially if he or she is a former bhang smoker.
Around
kitengela neighbourhood recently, I heard a guy narrate his encounter with
bhang, amidst chewing 'Muguka' leaves accompanied by 'Muguka' chewing gum.
He took in a
few puffs, blew the smoke towards Ngong hills then walked towards Kitengela
prison as he waited for the results.
Somewhere near
'Kichinjio' along the relatively flat road leading to the prison, he started
seeing very steep stairs all the way to the prison's gate. The 'stairs' were so
steep that he started crawling to avoid falling, never mind that the distance
to the gate was slightly above 1 km.
People were
laughing all around, but the guy was not even seeing them. Instead, he was
seeing cows (complete with horns) and was wondering why they were laughing while
their relatives were being slaughtered in 'kichinjio'.
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When it comes to
lubricating my skin, I don't normally do lotion or any liquid stuff. No, I
belong to the vaseline gang. I can also effortlessly switch to Arimis aka
'Mafuta ya Ng'ombe' when the economy goes south. I have used a cow's skin as a
mattress at one point in life, so I believe I am a true African man and small
things don't scare me.
But today, I
broke a few rules and stole Nice and Lovely - Aloevera Glycerine lotion from
someone, the one with a green liquid inside. I
don't even know whether it is meant for the whole body, but I proceeded to give
myself a full body massage. Even my hair benefited from the massage.
Right now, my
body feels sticky, almost as if I have been swimming in molasses the whole
morning. My lips are sugary and I believe the same applies to the rest of my
body. I somehow feel, even without looking into the mirror that I look abit
green. Vaseline my darling, I am sorry for cheating on you. I am coming back
home.
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I don't know
whether it is pure luck or tragedy, to be born in Itindi village, at Itindi
Community Health Centre. To study at Itindi Primary School before proceeding to
Itindi CDF Secondary School. To be professionally trained at Itindi Village
Polytechnic University College. To be employed at Itindi Flower Farm, before
marrying the daughter of the Assistant Chief at Itindi Village Holyghost
Church. Having your 5 children born at Itindi Community Health Centre.
Then
finally, weighed down by old age and
arthritis, you peacefully die at Itindi Community Health Centre. Amidst
genuine, as well as pretentious sobs and whispers of, 'He was a good man' you
are buried under a tree you planted way back when you were young. As the sun
sets beyond the horizon and gloomy darkness reigns over the land, the people of
Itindi Village shall retreat back to their homes, to begin life without you.
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What is this
thing that makes (mostly) men, think they can sing while drunk?
A guy will
check into a pub to have one for the road. Ofcourse, they eventually end up
having 10 for the road.
On their way
back home, Johnny, who lives inside Johnny Walker will smile at them, amidst
whispers of, "You can sing my brother. You are the next Michael Jackson.
You only need to muster enough courage to come out of the closet and
shine."
The guy will
take Johnny Walker seriously and commence practice without delay.
He will
choose a song and will sing excited, in between hiccups. The only problem is
that he will be too adventurous in his choice of song. Instead of singing
'Fundamendos' by Ken Wa Maria, he will go for 'Will you be there' by Michael
Jackson.
His ears
will fool him into thinking he is doing great, but in the real sense he will be
screaming his heart out. He will literally harass the song. - DON'T DRINK AND
SING.
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I remember it
being a cool but unpredictable morning. A morning which ushered us into a new
age of terrorism. The date was 7th August 1998, the time was some minutes past
10 am. It was just after we had raised the flags and sung the anthems of
several countries.
Tiny and
innocent looking as I was and thanks to the scouts club, the morning found me
at Rowallan Camp, near Kibera.
The bomb
blast happened at a time when we were rehearsing for the official opening of
the 3rd Kenya Jamboree, which was to be presided
over by a Minister called Jeremiah Nyagah. I was part of the Guard of Honour,
but we had to postpone the ceremony.
Our young minds were then introduced to a man called Osama Bin
Laden. We received the new knowledge with a certain level of fear and
curiosity. Even the Ethiopians, who had been endlessly chatting in Amharic,
seemed to go silent. Who was Osama? Why does he hate us so much? Will he also
come for us at the camp? Why is he called 'gaidi'? Is he even human? It was a
day when tears flowed.
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Today was my day
of discoveries. In the morning, on my way to Eldama Ravine, I discovered that a
number of vehicles plying the Eldoret - Ravine road do not have speed governors
and carry excess passengers. Then I went to Baringo High School (my former
school) and I discovered that they now have a school anthem, and a good one
while at it. It sounds like a mixture of blues, country music and hymns. On top
of that, they now have a school flag. The red sweater is now dead and gone and in it's place is a calm black sweater. They now
have two deputy principals but do I say?
You will be glad
to note that Cooks - Richard and Kimongo are still standing tall and strong,
though looking visibly old. They are now connected to the internet but do I
say?
I am told
that Malawi dorm died, resurrected, got baptized and now has a new name. A name
which refused to sleep in my brain even for a night. Kenya Dorm is now called
innovators while Tanzania is called achievers or something of that sort. A
class room now sits proudly next to Mr. Ogwal's house (now retired).
Across the
road, in our former school farm, a college sits proudly, so it is now possible
possible to study in Baringo High, then just walk across the road to your new
college afterwards.
The library
is still in its place, complete with the bees who always terrorized us around
the compound. The bees have refused to move. I am told they recently terrorized
Form Fours, who were sitting for a practical exam in the labs. The bees must be
having title deeds by now.
Mount Mono
is still alive and will outlive most of us. It now has a bigger water tank,
which I am told, can hold 5 million litres of water. To complete the picture is
VIVID the photographer. Though old, he is still sharp in photography. He has
since upgraded and now has a digital camera. This guy is strong. He outlived
TULIZA MOYO studio and will outlive many more photographers. I reminded him of
Tuliza Moyo and he told me, "Huyo alikuwa amekuja mbio sana" then I
completed the statement by saying "Lakini quality haikuwa poas
saaana" He laughed heartily and I was happy. This indeed was my day of
discoveries.
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So, today while
still wondering why ladies (and a few misguided men) love 'MABUYU' so much I
made a discovery. I discovered that 'mabuyu' are seeds of the Baobab tree. Then
I read somewhere that some people from the coastal region use mabuyu to make
porridge.
Wow! I am
now happy. I am feeling the same way Isaac Newton felt after discovering
gravity. I have always wondered what other use the Baobab tree had apart from
being a tourist attraction. I actually hate the Baobab tree because it reminds me of conical frustrums, with
missing surface areas, which we had to help find for a better part of High
School.
To other
important matters, I have been playing a hide and seek game with some
mosquitoes since last week, until one got me red handed last night. The poor
idiot sucked so much blood from my arm that it fell asleep right there. I only
touched him or her lightly this morning and he or she exploded like a popcorn. ‘Sipendi
Ujinga Mimi.’
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Even without
knowledge of ,law at a time when we were sailing through class 1, 2 , 3 and 4,
there was something we understood as children. We understood matters to do with
territory and jurisdiction.
It so
happened therefore that when our teachers at Lebolos Primary School introduced
a piece of wood called a disk to deter us from speaking mother tongue within
and around the school compound, we almost immediately followed up with our own
constitution, without the knowledge of the
teachers.
According to our
constitution, the disk had no powers or jurisdiction outside the boundary of
any piece of land owned by the school.
Secondly, we
agreed that at any given time, the holder of the disk reserves the right to
speak mother tongue and to also allow a few friends to speak mother tongue,
without being penalized (That is corruption right?).
I don't even
understand how we ended up with the above agreements without holding a single
meeting or how we got the prefects to dance to our tune.
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If there is a
judge in Kenya, who commands a lot of respect from me right now then, it is
none other than Jessie Lesiit. He is the guy who sentenced Ruth Kamande, the
Lang'ata Women's Prison beauty queen to life in prison.
I respect
him because his decision was not swayed by the fact that she is physically
interesting to look at.
Right now as
we speak, around 99.999% of men in Kenya still believe she is not guilty.
Interestingly, majority of ladies accepted the verdict immediately it was read.
I must admit that
I looked at her photo continuously for 5 minutes and 59 seconds, then my spirit
concluded that she was guilty, but my flesh refused to make a decision on this
matter and it has refused to date. Poor me, I am ashamed.
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Most men know
this, that there are those days when you wake up feeling like you are not
yourself. That is the day you do not work very hard in the hygiene department,
afterall you are not yourself right?
You
carelessly wash your face then you hold a brief meeting with yourself and
decide that you are not taking a shower, not even if Adolf Hitler resurrects.
It is too cold you know? And pneumonia is not a brother to your sister.
You decide
to rush to town first, you are in the bus, you are
on a shirt which is torn at the collar, you did not even brush your teeth, you
forgot to carry PK, your armpits are having breakfast with yesterday's sweat.
Luciffer then
conspires with his Angels and makes a very very fine girl to sit next to
you.You can already smell the contrast between how she smells and how you
smell. She is the breed you would love to chat with, not because you have ill
motives but just for the sake of it. Who knows, she could hook you up with
tenders. You will know 'saitan' is real.
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Growing up in
shaggz somewhere in Baringo County, I noticed that most cows were respectful to
(or afraid of) people. We would even take them to the local cattle dip, where
we would speak to them to get in to their 'special' swimming pool. We would
shout,
"Dip
dip dip dip" or "Tip tip tip tip" for my brothers and sisters in
'Chaget'. And the cows would obey and take a well deserved swim. Cows would
even step out of the way, to let you pass by.
I therefore
don't understand what the problem with urban
cows is, especially those in Eldoret. They have no respect at all. They have an
attitude, and a bad one while at it. They will never give way to let you pass
by. The somehow think they have the right of way. They probably read the
constitution at night. I can bet they gossip about us, while chewing cud, using
sheng.
They eat almost anything that is edible, including avocados,
watermelon, bread and even 'madondo' chapo.
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Can we all
please stand up wherever you are and give a hearty hand clap (Five Factorial) to
one, Dr. Elaine Larson, an infectious diseases expert at Columbia University,
School of Nursing.
In her recent research she discovered that it is not good to
take a shower everyday, because it exposes you to infections, which attack
through the skin. Kudos Daktari, you will never understand what a relief this
is to those of us who live in Eldoret. The weather has been very unkind to us
of late and taking a shower has become a nightmare. God Bless You Daktari.
Not long ago in
Kakamega, Wafula (a coffin maker) brought one coffin to church, as part of his
contribution in a funds drive,to aid the building of a new church. The coffin
had to be auctioned, alongside hens, sugarcane and other stuff.
MC: Haiya,
shillingi ngapi kwa nani? (Silence) Ngapi kwa nani? (Awkward silence).
Wafula: Elfu
tano hapa. Nanunulia bibi ya Bishop.
Bishop's wife:
Aaiiiii!..We, tusizoeane. Nanunulia Bishop...Elfu kumi na tano.
Bishop:
Shindwa Saitan!....Riswa!...Namnunulia Mheshimiwa Mbunge wetu kwa shillingi
elfu hamsini.
MP: Eeeeee
mayo weee! over my dead body. Namnunulia Wafula kwa shillingi laki moja. Phew!
Wafula took
his coffin back to his workshop. Among all the items sold that day, the coffin
fetched the highest price.
There is someone
who really needs your help and you really need to spare a thought for him
before you go to bed. There is this 28 year old guy who is dating a 55 year old
woman (good for him, after all who am I to judge?).
The problem, he says, is that the woman has two children aged 32
and 35, who have refused to call him dad. Recently, he ordered them (the kids)
to make him tea, but instead of obeying, they laughed at him, while holding
their bellies. Where do you begin, in trying to help this guy?
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In a not so
distant past, at the gate of Kitengela GK prison, I approached a uniformed
lady. Since I imagined that she had gone through tough training, hence must be
very strong, I shook her hand like a real kalenjin (in a manner likely to
suggest that I was trying to break her arm).
Lady
officer: Aiiiiii...Wewe kijana hizi nguvu zako pelekea bibi yako. Unasikia?
Me: (Shaking
male officer's hand) Ndio afande.
Male officer: Na
enyewe kako na nguvu!...Badala ya kuenda kulima shamba ushago unakuja town
kuvunja vunja wamama?
Me: Hapana
afande.
Female
officer: (Turning to the missus with a smile) Mum, kuna avocado tunauza hapa.
Ni mzuri sana kwa mzee (and the way she called me kijana a few minutes ago).
(with a conspiratorial tone) Mimi humnunulia wangu kila siku. Nunulia yeye ndio
aache kuvunja mikono ya kina mama hapa.
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The reason why a
petty offender suffers the worst punishment in Kenya is because he or she is a
liability to the government.
Take a
chicken thief for example. Three policemen will go for him, each earning around
800 shillings per day. They will use a vehicle which might use 1000 shillings
for fuel. He will be charged by a judge who earns 5000 shillings per day. He
might be held in a cell (free lodging and food) for upto 14 days, making 300
shillings per day.
The cost by
now, before being jailed is Ksh. 12,600/=
If we are to be
generous in the valuation of the hen(assuming the hen is recovered), then we
have Ksh. 1000/=
But
remember, the hen does not even belong to the government. The government
therefore makes a loss in the entire process and the only way to compensate the
government is through imprisonment and hard labour.
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There are men
who like talking big on the phone to attract the attention of ladies. They
subscribe to the philosophy of faking it till you make it. He will call someone
to announce how they have landed a huge tender in the office of the president.
He will quarrel an imaginary driver, ordering him to bring his Range Rover
immediately, because he wants to catch a flight to Sea-shells.
He will capture the interest of some lady alright, but sometimes
he will capture the attention of some opportunistic thugs who will actually
believe he is as rich as he says. They will waylay him somewhere near his
bedsitter. They will try to squeeze some money out of him, but they will only
find 50 bob and his ID card. They will beat him to pulp for wasting their time.
Just be yourself. It is not worth the hustle.
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While getting my
morning dose of carbohydrates washed down with tea, at Mama 'Wambo's' food
kiosk, I took the opportunity to follow the happenings at Kinoru Stadium in
Meru. It dawned on me that there is so much mystery and confusion surrounding
the military and security forces in general.
Waf: Huyo
jamaa amevaa uniform ya white (General Mwathethe) ni bodyguard wa Uhuru ama?
Kips: Eeee
bwana, huyo saa hizi amejaza pistols na grenades kwa mfuko.
Maiko: Hawa
wenye wanamarch na uniform smart (ceremonial uniform) ni rank ya mainspekta na
kuendelea.
Waf: Sindio,
halafu hao wenye wamevaa uniform za kikazi ni juniors.
Omega:
Unajua hizi goggles hawa askari wa masuti wamevaa, zinaonanga kama X - ray!
Kips: Halafu
hio gari open (Uhuru's ceremonial car) naskia inaweza sense bomb iko Eldoret,
ikiwa Meru!
Waf: Wa wa
wa wa!...Halafu naskia pia ile jet ya jeshi (F5) inafaa kuland tu kwa shimo.
Ikienda Airport itasababisha landslide.
No wonder
tunaibiwa.
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We all probably
know that it is very hard to ignore an itch. Good manners and common sense also
dictates that you cannot attend to the wishes of an itch in public, unless ofcourse
you are nursing a short circuit in your brain, something which the world and
nature will understand.
An itch
attack will sometimes find me walking leisurely past The Pearl hotel, towards
Kisii University. On a normal day, I would briefly sneak into that bushy
stretch, sandwiched between The Noble and Kisii
University, to deal with this nuisance of an itch.
The problem is
you will sometimes meet a long lost High School classmate (the one you have not
seen for 10 years), who does not seem to be in a hurry to leave you.
Amidst your
fidgeting, trying to nurse your itch, the guy will try to find out what became
of Zainabu, the brown coastal lady from High School. You do not even remember
her very well, neither do you know where she is.
"Alipotea....Sorry
aliokolewa..oko..olewa" You answer.
The guy now
thinks you are weird.
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It is true that
whenever the butcher buys the cow from the farmer, he pays for everything
including the skin, bones, urine and cow dung. The cost therefore has to be
passed on to the consumer.
For this
reason, I have always been a disappointed man whenever I buy some 'kaquarter'
piece of meat only to realize that half of it is a useless bone, thanks to
'kifunga macho' performed by Wafula the butcher. But I have since rectified
this injustice since the time I discovered that Wafula thrives on praises. Praising him gives him the
whoomph to face life. Whenever I step into his butchery, I usually call out
from the entrance.
Me: Omundu
Mulosi.
Wafula: Eee
papa.
Me: Haki
wewe ni mnoma!
Wafula: Kwa
nini?
Me: Hebu
nikatie 'kakwota' hapo.
Wafula:
(cutting meat) Mpona unasemako mimi ni munoma?
Me: Juzi
nimekuonako na kamrembo fulani, wah! ameumbwa akaumbika.
Wafula:
(Laughing heartily) wachako uchinga pana.
And that is
how I get the steak. Value for money.
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Sometimes, a
stranger will make a phone call next to you and you will think that he or she
is speaking to you. Then you will find yourself answering questions not meant
for you;
Stranger:
Mambo?
You: Poa
sana.
Stranger: Kwani
unatoka wapi?
You: Hapo
kwa DC.
Stranger:
Walikumalizia?
You: Eee,
lakini siku hizi wamekuwa wakora sana, imagine wanimedai kitu kidogo!
Stranger:
Hiyo ni sawa kabisa. (Disconnects phone and turns to you) Pole boss, nilikuwa
kwa simu(Followed by evil laughter).
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There are times
when travelling with a drunk man can be interesting for example that time when
I sat next to a drunk police officer who preached to me about King David.
But then, I
once travelled with a wrong number. He was a guy who happened to be supervising
the building of a water tank somewhere in Eldoret. The ordeal started
immediately we left Nairobi. He asked me how old I am. I ignored the question.
He told me I look like a forty year old man. I kept quiet, not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid of
commiting murder.
He called
someone somewhere in Kinungi;
Drunk:
Hello, hiyo tangi imefika wapi? (pause) Mzee alikuja? (Pause) mnataka simendi
(cement) ngapi? Forty? Sawa.
Somewhere in
Naivasha
Drunk:
Hello, ati ulisema unataka simendi ngapi? Forty? Sawa.
Gilgil
Drunk: Ati
ulisema unataka simendi ngapi? Forty? Sawa.
Nakuru
Drunk:
Simendi ngapi? Forty? Sawa.
Salgaa
Drunk:
Simendi ngapi? Forty? Sawa.
Molo
Drunk:
(leaned on me and slept)
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A few sundays
ago, I accidentally stepped on a pretty girl's shoe, with my stupid muddy shoe
somewhere near 'Trocadero' stage. I was from church and my heart was looking whiter than snow. I was absent mindedly humming some worship song, not knowing that
Satan had followed me from River Sosiani, and was intending to spoil my day.
Girl:
Aaaaaarg! (rolls eyes) NKT! (rolls eyes again).
I was
expecting her to call her hubby, to report a 'small' accident, but before that,
I had to think.
Me: (patting her
shoulders, with my left hand)Madam, pole sana. I am very sorry times five. You
know what? You look hypnotizingly beautiful, even without the shoes. Do not
focus on the shoes, just focus on you. Aaaaaaaaw!
And she
smiled! Oh my, she smiled! Shetani ashindwe kabisa.
I almost
offered to escort her to her church, then I remembered that I had already asked
for someone's daughter's hand in marriage. Wah! Shetani ashindwe tena.
******************************************************************
******************************************************************
I think I am
sick. I am suffering from a serious case of eavesdropping, not because I am to
blame, but because people have formed this habit of speaking too loudly about
personal matters. Please pray for me, thank you very much.
Thanks to
this unfortunate incident, I recently overheard a young couple lying to each
other that when they finally get married, they would not even have time to make
breakfast because they are burning with love.
Boy:
(holding her by the shoulders) Sasa sweetie, vile
tunapendana hivi, tukioana, tutakuwa na time ya kupika hata chai kweli?
Girl: Imagine
sioni darling.
My heart
laughed. Then I said without saying, 'Wait until a screaming baby gets into the
equation, so that it is no longer 1+1=2, but 1 + 1 + x =2' That is when you
find yourself making tea, without being prompted and you will even find
yourself discovering something better than gravity.
******************************************************************
******************************************************************
I suffered
through another episode of eavesdropping for the second time this week.
It happened
when rain caught up with me, at the wrong place at the wrong time, forcing me
to seek shelter outside some shop, facing Kapsoya Baptist church. I was joined
by a girl with a red skirt, which was miles above the knees and shortly
thereafter another one with a white dress which ended abruptly way above the
knees.
A
conversation began, and I tried not to listen. I even turned my ear towards the church where Elgibor resides, without much
success.
Skirt: Mambo
slay queen?
Dress: Poa
sana socialite.
Skirt:
Imagine nimepata crush mwingine!
Dress:Aaaaaaaaaaaaw!
Hebu nimcheki.
Skirt:
(Caresses her phone for a moment) Hebu mcheki, ako sawa?
Dress:
(Looking curiously) Oh ma gud! Oh ma gud (screams)...Aki ni mcuuuuute.
Aaaaaaaw!
Now, I worry
very much when ladies call a man cute. It is against the laws of nature and the
rules of the jungle.
******************************************************************
******************************************************************
In an age where
everyone is going LIVE on Facebook, it must be great time to be a broadcast
journalist. Why not, when you can bring us breaking news about whatever from
wherever on short notice, thanks to advances in technology?
You see, in
the past during the life and times of VOK later baptised KBC, live broadcasts
were as rare as getting a straight A in KCSE during the reign of Dr. Matiangi.
This was
because for a live broadcast to materialize, the chaps at KBC had to travel to their destination with a huge 22 wheeled truck
mounted with telecommunication masts and huge arrogant satellites. A bus
ferrying journalists and engineers also had to be dispatched to the same
destination.
I was surprised
to see a guy recently going live at KTN News from Eldoret, with only a camera
and a phone..Wow! Infact I wanted to say something, but I was afraid of making
a fool of myself.
******************************************************************
*****************************************************************************************************************
If I had been
allowed to swim in Esageri or Ngaranarewo river back in the day without
disturbance, I would probably be an Olympic Swimming champion today.
But no, the
adults (both teachers and parents) conspired to ensure that we never got the
opportunity to swim in peace.
You would be
trying to swim, alongside arrogant frogs, when an adult would appear from
nowhere and confiscate all your clothes. To get your clothes back, you would
have to beg on your knees, while promising never to
swim again.
The worst were those adults who would secretly steal your
clothes and take them to your mom. By the time you realize, it would be too
late. You would have to wait until nightfall in order to sneak back home.
Since we had no swimming costumes, you would only be dressed with your bare
skin and the love of God. After all those tribulations at the river, your
backside would still be in danger. But we always went back!
******************************************************************
I know I should
have taken a taxi to the house, recently when I landed in Eldoret aboard the
beloved Northcoach Bus, but then, in a town where an onion is threatening to
sell for 20 bob, you can imagine how much a taxi can cost you. Ofcourse not
much but in this world you have to think like an investor.
It was a few
minutes to 4 am and I decided a few hours sleep in the bus will not kill me.
A number of
people left in the bus slept proper while I slept with one eye closed.
Problem is,
there was this couple not far from me, who had just met in Nairobi 6 hours
earlier, and the guy was almost proposing (some men are too quick with these
things). The couple appeared ready to consummate their 'inevitable' marriage
right there in the bus. Cheei!?! I saw things which could resurrect Waiyaki Wa Hinga or make Nabongo Mumia, turn in his grave. Mushy and passionate kisses
changed mouths. Wah! l saw 'tabia oza' and the way I paid 310, expecting
blessings
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