Wednesday, 26 October 2016
There is annoying, there is boring and there is just plain disgusting. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
1. Picking your nose
Riding in a matatu will get you a certain level of exposure that could only be sent by the devil. A woman barely in her thirties carries a toddler while she makes her way through to an empty seat. Next to her, a fine ass gentleman (pardon my language), the ones with a beard game on a hunnid, a barber born with scissors in his hands, a suit so immaculate it starts looking like a resurrection. The Chris Brown official guy decides he has something up his sleeve, oops! I mean nose. (Diaz say no more). I no longer thirst over anyone in a matatu, a restaurant even a poster. Just to make you vomit, he smeared the boogie on the back of the chair in front of him. I also started wearing gloves just in case it’s dried up and I can’t spot it with the naked eye.
2. Starring at butts
Big storages have a way of attracting attention and keeping it. That’s why nobody stares at a Vitz when a Jeep passes by. It’s a habit am guilty of and I own it, but who the heck is judging (hehe). It can’t be a sin if a fellow female does it. If am sitting with my boyfriend at a restaurant, I will point out a good asset if it passes by. It’s called common courtesy. Same way he shows me a light skin guy who looks like my type. This habit is only disrespectful if you start hissing at the lady, if your girlfriend disapproves and if you are in a clique of idiotic, shallow and broke-classless men. Look at it only if you can pay for it.
3. Toothpick menace
Are you Kansime or Mbugua from Faiba advert? We don’t need animations walking around. If you are from club 20(watu wa UON) please just relax yourself, people eating at KFC are not walking with logs of trees. Drink water it will wash off.
4. Scalp on fire
Ladiiieeeeessss! You do not need to stay with a weave for nine months, it’s not a pregnancy. You end up smacking your head every time and dust comes up like an episode in thaw. You start looking like you are the main manufacturer of Hostess flour, with disgusting white particles on your shoulder. This also goes for men with dreadlocks that are fifty shades of yellow. Roses are red, panga soap is ten bob, water is free so put away the weed. So honey, panga panga panga panga riaaah.
5. Chewing Gum Escapades
I go to a thousand whenever I step on gum. It’s a series of trying to remove it from the bottom using grass, pavement, stick and whichever object is in my reach. Sitting on it…….let’s not even go there. You nincompoop who was brought up so savagely and in a mentally distraught condition, may you face the wrath I wish upon you.
Some of you smelling like you are 72% hydrogen sulfide, everything you touch turns into eggs. Please life is hard enough, why do you go on making it harder to breathe?
I was once told people who whistle have Syphilis. STD haipendi ujinga.
So you had a heavy breakfast and you are big on constipation and you can’t retain gas unless it’s going to your lungs, I have no words for you. Hold it down like Dj Khaled.
Monday, 17 October 2016
Ladies are now walking around looking like they are all from the same father. True reincarnation of the nine Agikuyu daughters but on a much wider spectrum. Somewhere along the lines we were taught that dark skin tone reflects everything wrong with life. Associated with slavery, suffering and Larry Madowo. But they forgot to tell you that we beat colonialists, we don’t have tan problems, we look better when we hit fifty, Eric Gathegi is finer than the other white guy, our ugali taste better and our culture is so rich even Tupac understood Africa isn’t a country, it’s a continent. So why would you want to disassociate with all the triumphs our forefathers fought for and go for that Blacc Chyna look? Africa made Blacc Chyna remember that.
That boy you want impress cannot even spell skin lightening correctly and doesn’t own a bank account to the least. He is not cute enough to make you feel insecure about the color of your skin and isn’t rich enough to take you to the beach for a tan, so drink milk honey. You cannot match to the beat of every drummer instead let them pull up a trumpet. If that happens you will come out looking like Lil Kim’s twin.
If your face is dedicated to the darkness, embrace it and give every yellow person the Oreo vibe when they meet you. Be Black. Be Bold. Be Beautiful.
Wednesday, 12 October 2016
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Sunday, 28 August 2016
The only thing I look forward to when Churchill Live starts airing is the end. Plus how much thicker Mr. Ndambuki has grown since the previous week. Sorry sir leave the thickness to the ladies. This show has gone from being the crème of comedy to the bottom of the food chain. Give me Kajairo, give me Red Corner. The idea of integrating new comedians and even employing a new show; Churchill Raw, has not born any laughs (ahem fruits).
After Teacher Wanjiku got married, this show literally became a joke. I give credit to David the Student, Fred Omondi, Professor Hamo and Sleepy David for their attempts at cracking lips. The only time I saw teeth was when all of them left the stage. Rib Krakaz who originally hailed from Naswa were the black messiahs but only for a period of time. The funny drills got Kenyans marching and that was about the only time we held our flag high or even held our flag.
Accents are borderline funny and annoying. This Kikuyu accent is flaring and every other comedian is in on it even the Indian comedian was not left behind. It’s distasteful and Kenyans need a new level of creativity. I am done with the Rs turned Ls, the CH turned SH, the ‘beca’(money) terminology thrown at everything. How can we forget ‘Ino ni momo’ incorporated in every entrance, joke and exit? All I can say to all these ukuyu-oriented comedians is ‘thii ukiumaga’.
As for the Indian comedian, you are joking and not in a way we find funny. Cultural diversity is the best Public Relation move if you ask anyone but not when this Indian tells a joke about potatoes and parents. To Kenyans potato is potato, nobody cares whether it’s Irish or Murang’aish. Maybe it’s just me but I don’t want to hear any fifteen year old level jokes, somebody bring Kevin Hart or Snoop Lion. Just because you say something amongst a group of friends and they laugh that one time doesn’t mean you are a comedian. Maybe your friends were just bored or high on sativa.
Daniel Ndambuki is the ultimate Kenyan comedian, if he had his own show I would go see him. Oh wait, he does. Churchill Live show ceased to be his when I got to see him only when his interviewing an eight year old about singing. Bring me Nikki Minaj or Rihanna now that would be a show. Though there is nothing wrong with an eight year old; dreams are valid baby girl and these days even sponsors.
I yearn for the days Churchill himself hosted the show and actually participated in every segment. It’s tiring to see new faces with new tonal intonations every single show. You stop bothering with their names; I just know the red head (black Michael Jackson), the brother to Eric Omondi, the female one and the thin one. Two days after, I format and forget there is even a show called Churchill.
If you don’t share my opinion then you must be from Churchill Live. You are a joke and not in a funny way.
Monday, 8 August 2016
Why can’t men ask for direction? Why can’t they pick up a manual? Why can’t they gobble up a self-help book? What is so darn hard about educating this specie?
If you have been with a male driver especially one who is romantically involved, you must have already considered using a PSV by now. Multiple times. They blame the roads, the signage, the seatbelt, the dog that died, their dead grandfather; everything apart from themselves. My impatience levels are usually flaring up time and time again so welcome I haven’t caused any road carnages. And mostly because I don’t have a car to get in to.
Seemingly these descendants of Adam prefer learning by doing instead of being told what to do. Who took us back to the Australopithecus period? Adam himself was told what to do, so much so he went an extra mile and listened to his wife. It didn’t end up so well for the rest of the world but that’s not the point. By a sure of eyelids, how many of you try to get directions from your ‘wives’? Ladies be the Eves to your Adams, there is no way you are going to Rongai via Karen when you can use Mbagathi Road. It is geographically incorrect.
Men want to appear strong and capable. The only capable I care about is capable of reaching home before The Trend starts on NTV. Larry Madowo and the three musketeers won’t wait for you to decide whether it’s left or right. And they won’t help if you follow number 23 up to Buru instead of going straight to Donholm. Be CAPABLE of following that Embassava.
There is something about winning that is addictive. They can’t wait for that victorious screeching U-turn and park in front of the front gate of Sarova Shaba Resort. It’s all about winning. Being right and feeling accomplished for making a two minute walk become a five hour drive. The journey doesn’t matter, it’s the destination was a quote invented by a man and now you know why. And if they believe in it so much then advice your romantic partner to try a camel.
Men are the weird Human Beings we were told its taboo to talk about. I leave it there.
Saturday, 6 August 2016
The shape of your letters, the length and even the position is enough to determine the kind of personality you have. Graphologists can easily give you a full description of who you are just by mere observation of your scripts. Word of advice; stop signing up for everything.
Tall handwriting reflects ambition, observant, lack of consideration, objectivity and modesty. They are the type of people who you do not want to share a meal with but you would get into business with. My guess, go for someone like the Vice President; a lot of businesses, detoriating number of friendships but a bank account with commas up to Timbuktu.
People who tend to be analytical, reserved, thrift, obedient, zero self-confidence and misers usually have small handwriting. They barely have a lot of friends and if they do, it’s a small circle.
Those with broad and wide handwriting tend to be boastful, tolerant, imaginative, and spontaneous. They are also painfully full of pride, ego and lack concentration. This bunch is the best suited for the entertainment industry but employ one at your own risk. Just ask DNG, he is a rapper, a Disk Jockey, An MC and a promoter. One day he is here, the next day he is preaching Gospel.
Narrow handwriting comes with all its trades. Distrustful, socially passive, introvert, timid, seclusive and has self-control. They are good for the organization as long as they are not working in finance. This is a round up for all politicians.
Bold or heavy pressure are the ultimate personality trophy holders. They are creative, enthusiastic, possess endurance and emotional strength, strong libido. They also can’t easily forget the past, has grudges, they are sensuous and prefer bright and dark colors.
Light pressure handwriting comes with its own slots open. They are forgiving, tender, avoids friction, spiritual, physically weak, likes pastel colors and passively indifferent. This might have been Mother Teresa or anyone in Red cross.
Initials surpassing letters indicates emphasis on personal achievements and goals rather than dependency on others. Have you seen Vera Sidika’s signature? She can pay your rent with the first initial.
Poorly formed signature indicates certain level of stress or a major life crisis. All those from School of Engineering and Psychology students, what’s good?
Slashing through the signature shows that one is cancelling themselves out therefore need to hide and maintain secrecy.
Encircled signature shows fear and constant need to be under someone’s care all the time. The ones leading sponsor lives, we don’t discriminate.
Signatures ending with a dot show mistrust of others. Why do you need a full stop at the end of your signature and it’s not a sentence really buffers me.
Despite the individual characteristics, one needs to consider all qualities as a whole to give a widened view.
Monday, 18 July 2016
Have you ever felt like you are not living, you are just not dying? Well here are fifteen things that will definitely motivate you to wake up on that second Monday of the week;
1. Dance in the rain
Remember those with kinky hair, carry a blow-dry. Us blacks we have to stick together.
2. Be part of a television audience
Now that Oprah and Tyra Banks abandoned us, we need to move on to the next black woman; thank you Steve Harvey.
3. Participate in a flash mob
Who doesn’t want to dance in a clique at Tom Mboya Street? Straight Outa Tom Mboya.
4. Eat in an underwater restaurant
The idea of a fish swimming over my head while its brother is fresh off the fire is simply fascinating. Or witnessing the chain of predators trickling from shark to human to lobster to crabs and only one of them is gaining.
5. Experience zero gravity
I want to fly and still go for a walk afterwards.
6. Make a snow angel
Snow globes are my ultimate fetish, Phantom Rolls Royce unto the one who wins me one. Psyche. I can only wait to experience my own version of an angel.
7. Bathe in milk
I want milk in its truest form, not talking about Mursik, Chepngetich.
8. Add a lock to the Love Lock Bridge in Paris.
If money finds me before love, I sure will travel across the continent with a Tricycle padlock. May cost less than my plane ticket but mean more than the ‘bae’ I never had. Chuckles.
9. Explore a shipwreck
Something about water and those who belong to Pisces I can’t wrap my arms around.
10. Build an igloo
You Might get frost bites but at least you won’t have to pay rent. God bless ice.
11. Donate blood
12. Go for a private nude photo-shoot
It will pay off when you are seventy and you haven’t seen your toes in a while.
13. Reach the top of the Eiffel tower
Then jump off.
Please don’t, not until you put the view on Snap Chat.
14. Ride an elephant
Don’t be scared at least they are just the largest mammals on land. Be scared because they are the largest mammals on land.
15. Live happily ever after
You owe yourself nothing more than all the fulfilment that life has to give. Whether it comes in large sums or small lump sums, happiness should be the ultimate goal.
The world is too large, it would be a tragic if you live like you are in a matchbox; go dance in the rain and fall outside Robpol.
Wednesday, 29 June 2016
The tension has never been worse during any election period as compared to the 2016/2017 tenure. Everybody is cashing in all chips to attain the dockets at hand. The 2015/2016 SGC lot has not yet signed out but ‘boy oh boy’ (Jeff Koinange’s voice) it feels like they went home Before Christ.
Although numbers never lie, these statistics might not be the gospel truth come the D day. It’s all subject to personal opinion and mainly subject to the ballot boxes.
Towett Ng’etich has definitely had his eye on Chairmanship from the beginning and things could not get any clearer for him. He has a solid 40% exactly one month to the Election Day. Prior he had managed 38% and was still foremost.
Bishop Apuoyo Rathore a very charismatic man, unfortunately dropped from 36.8% to 33% after recent remarks made by the political aspirant. His followers were not too happy with his sudden showcase of unmerited pride.
Albert Shem is not doing too well in the docket however, those on the ground have their loyalty to him. His numbers were not enough for him to be put in these polls but his name is still relevant to the common comrade.
Faith Muthoni aka Fei Sonik has brought down the whole varsity to its knees in her aspirations to be the Vice Chair. Following recent backlash from comrades and derogatory statements especially from our male counterparts, she has taken campaigns by the horns and sent us straight to the fields. She is leading with a whole 45%.
Viney Gisore cannot be put to rest as she is on the ground creating waves. She follows right behind Sonik with a whopping 30%. Thereafter is Lavinah, Mwakesi and Komallah in that order.
This man Bosco is trickling from everyone’s mouth and consequently will fall right into the ballot box. He is undisputedly the people’s choice thus far, leading with 45%. Secretary General is taken he says. Not very far off is another very determined political aspirant Remmy. I don’t know his full name, where he originated from but he is making small tides. So who is your mother? Identify yourself.
Assistant Secretary General has never been of anyone’s concern. It is almost like asking who the assistant of Community Development, Culture and Arts is, but Bwana Festus is in the race. He might be racing against himself.
Muchai is playing the right cards and looks like he might hit the jackpot. 41.3% is the winning mark and Biko is coming in fast at 39.5%. Biko has been out of his element for days on and the big question is ‘Are you still contending to be our Finance Director?’
Morris Mureithi is the Eiffel Tower and Academics docket his Paris. This lad cannot be ignored and will not be put down unless it’s on a ballot paper. John Abdub we are seeing you, just not in the ballot box. A little bit of hardwork from your end and a political consultant will do you good.
Arnold Clinton aka Klint, who gave you that name? And who gave you 30%? Klint is leading making the other contenders his followers. Papa John Sewe and Dukkakis(did I spell it right?) are tying at 27.1%. The Entertainment docket is a multi-cornered seat and any change can bring enormous gains. The rest, well, you are the rest.
Security and Accommodation has brought a lot of sand from the sea and cannot be clearly determined. Mohammad Kuso and this Maxwell guy are the reigning kings and with just one kingdom, it will be a serious case of PNU-CORD hullabaloo. Kuso comes in with 39% after he had 36% according to last week’s polls. Whereas Bwana Maxwell is at an outstanding 40%, a 1% drop from previous polls.
Ms. Faith Chimoli is not taking the Health docket lightly. She has established a fan base on the ground and online, she surely means business. She is a front runner with 37% in her hand and only Edith can stop her. Edith Wanjiru who prior was contesting for Vice Chairman announced her ticket for the Health docket. Velma Sankale following Chimoli closely is weighing in at 31.4% while young lass Helen at 20%.
Catering is the new Chairman docket with Lynn Balyach educating the other runners with a flying 53.6%. No one understands how, when and where but she is not even in the race, she is the race. However, Husna Hassan Nawate, the coastal Luyha lady or the coastal girl dating a Luyha, whichever the case, might be the referee that Balyach needs. She is a little bit far off but anything can change in a matter of hours. Ms. Nawate is at a staggering 35%.
These elections have already been polarized along ethnic lines and parallels to previous elections chaos are almost null. May we join hands to have credible free and fair elections. Remember anyone can win or lose. Vote wisely, Vote peacefully. Your vote, your say; Your soda, your lunch. Usiuze Kura Kamwe!
Being in school for a quarter century has been a skid on ice. Nobody really gets why we do it, who came up with 8-4-4 and why not 3-2-2, why is there no home schooling for this system and generally who came first? The teacher or the Ed.
Do I blame a bunch of ingrate teenagers for sending their schools to hell? No, not really. With the hormonal rush, petrol as an accessory to food, oppressive rules and regulations and minimal understanding from teachers; Heck! Somebody take me back to High School I start my training as an arson. Most people value this system and believe its oxygen to the brain; these people are our parents. They know everything.
But what if they don’t? School is not as crucial as education. Let’s say I spend a minimal of eight hours a day learning about mitochondria and Alkanes and ultimately manage to get an A. Teachers, parents and the principal herself is ecstatic for my brilliance has once again proven immortal. In real sense, Mitochondria and Alkanes couldn’t be more than the dust on my feet. Assuming, my passion is more in line with catering, the science of food, the intricate mixture of flavors and taste yet, I spend quarter of my life span dwelling on square roots and pie charts that won’t put the meal I made on the table. So in the end really, who needs to educate who?
What if oxygen is just a chemical that reduces our lifespan and everybody succumbs to it after eighty to one hundred years? Did Abraham and his squad breathe the same air as the rest of us? Is Raila’s fish and ugali an exact replica of what Jesus fed his people? You only need to train an average of four years to be an epitome of success in your field. But we spend twenty years learning and focusing on all what is irrelevant but is considered relevant by those from prior years. The mistake we make is we believe them and take their word as gospel truth; in four years or sixteen thousand hours you could be a guru in whatever prospect.
School does not teach us on matters of life; it’s an experiment and we are just lab rats. Can you adhere to rules and how long? Is it possible to retain all information of eight subjects from a mere 300 pages a book? Are you able to jump when ordered to and how high? Repeat the same schedule for four years straight and maintain the same enthusiasm, Do one grand exam that puts all those years of hardwork to the ground or elevates you to a more intense curriculum.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results. How many generations have to suffer under this backward system for us to realize that there could be another way of doing things? Do we really need to read for twenty years? Is it a must we have all those irrelevant topics in our curriculum? Who came up with differentiation in Mathematics? And what is wrong with you?
If education is the key then school must the padlock.
Sunday, 26 June 2016
Rain. Ancient symbol of man’s primitive fear. It’s the source of life and destruction. The backlash of being single and being homeless. It’s that which promotes cohabitation for the lonely queer ones and bragging rights to the flatulent in terms of partners. It’s an icy 24th June and I hate that I can’t feel the tip of my nose.
I like caffeine. A strong mug of caffeine. The ones written in ‘expensive’ language usually don’t tickle my fancy. Not mentioning names; ‘Oregano’. I’m lured by simple and brief cups; the ones with coffee beans as the only ingredient. Woe unto those in which Dioxides and Phosphates are part and parcel. They are packed like coffee but lack the maturity to attain its adverse mannerisms. In simple terms, they are Yuck!
Taking a French leave from The Home of Champions (Kemboi did us good) to Nairobi was a cup of coffee, oops! I mean tea. Heck! I would opt for Rongaiwood come lava, come tsunami. Eldoret is about negative fifteen degrees, meaning you need twenty five degrees more to actually say it’s cold. Ice tea has become norm although our Luyha brothers….eeerrrr…. It’s so cold that the idea of being part of the five thousand people eating fish and bread is alluring. Last time we had weather this bad was when Mugabe entered office for yet another term. He has served for so long I bet Alexander Bell hotline blinged him.
Naivasha, Limuru, Nakuru are all engulfed in fog resulting in confused traffic on goings. This cold is so bad, the calendar might get frozen in June. However, this weather brought some good; Men have been coerced to embrace being gentlemen. They come home early, warm their own bathing water, occasionally cook, no daily visits from the boys and definitely no leaving the wife at any time, always joined to the hip. There is an amazing upward trajectory in vocabulary; no more Mama Kipla, it’s now ‘honey’ and on desperate occasions it gets to cupcake and ‘have you lost weight’ sentiments. Words like sorry, thank you, I love you and I will do it right now become like confetti.
Slogans such as; If you look at a woman lustfully, you have committed adultery with her thus if you look at water and soap lustfully, you have showered for the week, have become a religion. Two baths a day have been reduced to shower when ‘maji ya matope’ has been splashed on you, it gets worse. After using the bathroom, before eating, after eating ugali, moping the floor by stepping on the rag, being religiously ignorant of all sources of water and can you believe it’s not yet July?
With the bad comes the worst, question is what would Maghufuli do?
Friday, 24 June 2016
ARTIST: JOE RUBIA
Every once in ‘neveruary’ a great artist comes along and wrecks the music scene. Joe Rubia is definitely making waves in the industry and it’s only a matter of time for his second record ‘Better’ to be one of the classics. His first record 'games' in which he featured Andre did not disappoint and definitely set the bar high for his second track. We have seen all the boy band groups winning hearts of everyone. But what if I told you that one man with one mic will string you along a great musical journey? You don’t need a band, you need a voice. Joe Rubia’s voice.
The quality of vocals, instrumentals and pictures in Joe Rubia’s latest feel good jam is definitely commending. He is definitely the Kenyan Trey Songz and is sweeping ladies off their feet, even gentlemen sing along to his song. This artist has successfully mashed Pop, RnB and Hip-hop. He brought his music to the table and we all got served. Being his first single, you can only work up an appetite for his next hit.
The song has a sound that will transport you to some kind of sombre and intoxicating aura which doesn’t rub off. The lyrics seep into your brain and linger there so hard, a tear might sneak up on you. Like any RnB singer, he has managed to relate to his audience as he clearly depicts the struggles we have in terms of love. The artist unquestionably made a great composition and concept of the song. There is a rhythmic flow that triumphs and gives you a flawless, relentless and passionate mood of remorse and hope at the same time. If there were a Kenyan RnB Kendrick Lamar then you guessed it, we are in the running. Its lush, it’s simple, it’s catchy and it’s Joe Rubia.
‘Better’ is about to be your favorite soundtrack of 2016, just watch out. Check out his audio track on this link: https://youtu.be/P6Vi_1KJ2s0 Find this young lad on Instagram as Joe Rubia
Sunday, 8 May 2016
Who wouldn’t want to be a woman? Even Levi’s wife looked back to see if her girlfriend was behind her. Pun intended. There is a certain flair attached to womanhood that men would never relate. Well, unless they transition into this formidable species. The LGBT or GLBT community better known as the gay community are taking over the world by fag (*cough* storm). Gay pride is the new black and no one is bleaching it.
“My name is Chris”. First thing I thought was definitely this is a man. Probably my type too. The name has a nice ring to it, something like Nate or Tony. Its rasp is masculine, humble and extremely striking; like chocolate, vanilla and strawberry together. Apparently it was short for Christine, her cues were impeccable. She looked like a man, sounded like a man; how on earth did she have lady parts? Everything about her screamed testosterone; downright to the nitty gritty. Impostor. She would probably have taken me out and I introduce her to my family before knowing her true identity. I am actually blonde but born black.
For some reason people tend to be more comfortable with lesbians than gays. There is something about a man being feminine that makes eyebrows meet the hairline. Being partially trans phobic, borderline conformist and full on homophobic, I am not very willing to actively interact with this particular community. However, after researching and getting to understand their daily lives in this cruel world, I am much more open minded. Hey Caitlyn!
LGBT community are constantly faced with discrimination. It’s almost like being black in 1757 or Lupita in that porn movie. Horrific. Nobody really understands them and nobody wants to. Biblically they are cursed for having fetish for the same sex or cravings of being of a different gender. Socially they are not worth more than a poodle chained to the kennel. There is no such thing as right or wrong; it’s just is what it is. I mean Shakespeare said ‘To be or Not to be’. Who even knows what that means? Yet nobody never questioned that.
There is nothing wrong with being who you are. If it feels right then it is right. Never live your life within the confines of other people’s version of reality. If you are gay then you are gay. Just don’t tell my mum and a billion of other people who might end up stoning you. Stop homophobia, after all we all living this life for the first time; there was no handout
Thursday, 5 May 2016
There were rounds of ammunition fired, really loud bangs then grave silence like something bad was about to happen. Two minutes after that a pandemonium escaped; chaos everywhere. I was in my room when it all happened. The militants ordered students to come out of their rooms and lie face down on the school grounds. Some did, others couldn’t live up to the task.
I couldn’t leave my room, my friends and I were frightened and knew Hell’s gates were flooded. We hid in the last room of the dormitory side. Thank God our room looked more like a storage facility from the outside; something which always bothered us but who knew it would be our ticket out of the heist.
After realizing that some students were still hiding in the halls of residence, they set out for them. Each room was ransacked and those found were made to kneel outside along with the rest. I didn’t know it was about to blow up. We only thought they were out to scare us or send a message that Garissa has gone back to its ancestral ways. But we were wrong.
The militants were targeting Christians. It was definite, they conversed in Arabic but addressed in Swahili. Being a Christian, I was certain I would not see another day if I stepped out of that room. It was my safe haven. Luckily I had Muslim friends who dressed me in a Kanzu just in case. A few students were saved by the Kenyan Defense Forces but those who remained were not as fortunate. Another round of shots was heard. It did not seem like they had killed two people.
We quickly hid under the bed and covered our ears. There was a lot of screaming and I could smell death from round the corner. The militants then told the girls to separate from the boys. Some few boys pretended to be female thinking that they would be pardoned. They thought wrong. The radicals shot every single one of them in cold blood in front of the others.
Earsplitting wails could be heard once more but they were ordered to calm down or they suffer the same. By this time I was no longer scared. I had accepted my fate. I had lost hope. I no longer froze at the thought of death. I just lay on that floor waiting for it to come find me and be done with.
I lost friends, classmates even enemies I might say. I was not ready to give them up, they were taken from me and from their families. I only have memories now, there is no point of memories if you can’t remake them with those who you loved.
Moi University Garissa branch was an amazing place after it was reckoned. The sun was always up, the community was united and commodities there were accessible and cheap. Anyone would have fallen in love with it after a few days; it was paradise to most of us. I guess nothing good last forever. I want to pay a tribute to all those who passed away and many condolences to the family.
-The above is a former student of Moi University Garissa branch and a survivor of the second deadliest attack made on Kenyan soil.
A moment of silence for the 148 students we lost.
Sunday, 1 May 2016
I realized I was born in the wrong continent when I had a five shilling coin transformed into a note then back to a coin. If you didn’t go through the twenty shilling note and five hundred shilling Moi note, it is illegal for you to be perusing my blog. You should get out of those diapers and get some big girl panties or big boy pants (non-existent). Many escapades passed that confirmed my doubts about this country’s prospects. Only one sets me off till this date; writing is a janitorial work.
The only people who consider writing as a source of income are writers themselves and landlords. They are the two lots who get paid through writing. I saw your warning Bwana Chela (landlord). The rest of the population dismisses it as gum stuck under their shoe. Writing is considered uncool almost placed on the same level as reading. Thank God the odds are over and not draw. (See what I did there). Most people would rather watch a dog chase its tail in demented circles than hold a book.
Kenyans don’t read; they Instagram, they Tweet, they Snapchat and occasionally visit my blog. Typical. Everything we do involves reading or writing which is a tad too ironic. Using hashtags, setting locations, putting down captions, setting statuses, updating quotes; come on people. Then after all that; you’ll hear Njoki WA Wairimu saying in that fake Briton accent; “I don’t like reading”. Ms Wambua and several other writers pull the trigger one after the other, others also willingly go to flooded areas; sorry Huruma.
The worst feeling a writer has is to write a five hundred word article only to achieve five views. This is the number one cause of suicides among the artists behind the words. Worse still is to write a whole novel and no one shows up at your book signing apart from your mom and siblings. A book only a mother could love is averagely not a very good book. It gets worse when you forward your friends links to your work then get asked what are these stuff you keep on sending. It’s worse than onions next to your pupils.
Being a writer has so much encompassed but very few know the struggle that comes along with it, most don’t give a damn. Well, we also don’t give a damn. You readers are selfish and the worst human beings on earth. I should probably take that back before my page views become ancestral.
Reading is not limited even socialites read; remember Huddah Monroe realized it was Prince who died? We read for the most part of our lives and it makes us better people, more interesting and diverse; try it, it won’t kill. As for my fellow writers, we may not be Biko Zulu or my personal favorite Oyunga Pala but who wants to be them anyway?
Monday, 28 March 2016
The first thought that comes to mind when you hear the word jewelry is, EXPENSIVE. But, what if I told you there is a dealer in town who can not only meet your high end taste in trinkets but also avoid damaging your bank commas.....
The offer gets better and better as these items are not part of the Kenyan Uniform; each is uniquely handmade and sold exclusively to the consumer. Some of the items they specialize in are bracelets, vintage jewelry, horoscope bracelets, short and long chains and their classic; the vintage bracelet.
They are currently doing deliveries to Mombasa, Eldoret, Kisumu, Kisii, Murang’a and they have done international deliveries to South Sudan, Juba.
Free deliveries in Nairobi CBD, Eldoret, Kisumu, Mombasa, Kisumu, Kisii, Murang’a.
Facebook: Gean Jewellery Store
Website: www.geanjewelry.com – Coming soon
IF YOU HAVEN’T SHOPPED AT GEAN, YOU HAVEN’T SHOPPED AT ALL.
Style On Fleek.
Sunday, 27 March 2016
Easter should have come early. February early. No I would not wish to quicken Jesus’ demise but with the January blues spreading over to March; even Judas would have been paid 15 coins. I haven’t been this broke in so long that beggars on the street would share their daily collections with me. All of you who think Kalekye lost weight because of gym continue being delirious. At some point last month it would have taken a hundred shillings to actually be considered broke.
Back to Easter. There is something about this fish that should spark interest. Jesus was a shepherd but no mention of eating sheep, goat, cow or chicken. Not so much of a cook, not so much into animals on land but a lot into unleavened bread and that wine. We could never measure up to be His Highness but if Kenyans could…… Nyamachoma would be prepared on a daily basis, the famous Keg after every meal, people kubruce (getting wasted) before prayers, disciples engaging in corrupt deals and stealing Jesus’ miracles and you bet XYZ and Churchill would make all sorts of parodies. The whole of Luke 24 would be filled with verses of kufisiana (hunger expeditions) and Jesus would probably resurrect on Thursday. Kenyans would never be in the Bible.
I have to give it up to my main man Jesus for His loyalty. How many of us would die and willingly come back to those who ended us in the first place and not kill them? You literally have to have a higher power for that kind of composure. I mean if somebody simply steps on my right foot, I would make it a personal mission to go to war on both of his feet. We all need a little Jesus in us especially in this season. Easter is a representation of love and sacrifice for a greater purpose. So in every situation try asking yourself What Would Jesus Do? Sometimes you will not find an answer, the devil is a lie, ten Jesus pieces bruh!
Friday, 25 March 2016
Have you ever kept tabs on how you greet? Rather who you greet and why you greet them? Well, personally I have never given two cents about it. The only thing I keep track of is who I do not greet. (Chuckles) not so many but I would wish to add a few on that list who checked into the friend zone after stalking.
Greetings are like the appetizer then the main course kicks in in form of a conversation. They are like the gateway to how good, boring, sad, interesting and slanderous the tête-à-tête will be. No one really pays attention but the way someone responds to your hello determines whether it will be a hellnah or a wassup.
Different people have different ways of greeting. The French love a little kiss on the cheek with a sultry comment ca va? The Spanish love hugs and screams and a lot of hullaballoo that makes it seem like a wedding is taking place right there and then, accompanied by a Como te va todo? Red Bull for breakfast? Kenyans love that low key niaje niaje but you have to have realized the Spanish in our women. The high pitch Arianna Grande scream, the hands in the air being waved like they just don’t care buttered by a long hug as if you are Samson and you just found out Delilah left you. Spend one day in Kenya and you will leave with all your scars healed and all your money gone (let’s fight corruption).
When greeting a lady make sure it’s proper especially if it’s for the first time. This means no hugging, if you want a hug, go get your sister or a tree. There is no Hi-five, basically we are way past the diaper stage and you are not my grandpa. Nevertheless, it’s annoying, that weird finger-locking confusion where the thumb goes in between the middle finger and index finger so the whole greeting is kind of messed up as you cannot figure out whether to rectify the finger position or simply ignore and continue with the conversation. You feel me? The proper way is a handshake which no one in the varsity and whole of Kenya remembers. Treat every woman like a queen as they are a part of somebody’s throne.
When greeting an older person, do not curtsy as it’s not a performance. The same goes for bowing. But depending on different cultures, you must be well versed with what they consider etiquette. Do not bring a rude boy vibe to a Chinese restaurant; those chopsticks are deadly. Men normally do not have that much bodily contact and if they do, please call Caitlyn Jenner. She/ He will help you accordingly.
Women are naturally delicate (do not read as weak) human beings and we love to connect with everyone in general. Thus boundaries are easily marked if any and hugs, pecks, hi-fives are not really limited when it comes to fellow counterparts.
Mind your Hello, do not let it be a goodbye.
Two words; cat fight. Whoever came up with that phrase cannot possibly be alive and if he (must be a he) is, he is under heavy security right now. If I happened to be thinking along his shallow dismissible lines he must correlate the woman’s stealth like nature to that of a feline. Cats purr when you sooth them, chin up when you pet them and claws out when you provoke them; women do not operate this way.
Women will give you any reaction whatsoever when you cuddle them, frisk them, ignore them and aggravate them. We operate on a more complex level compared to the cat. Point is, us females do not want to be labeled in any type of way so unless you have nine lives; Keep walking bruh.
With that misrepresentation set straight, let’s get into the real deal. A story about two men, a lady and one coffin. Yes, in the twenty first century love triangles usually have two males and a female and in certain occasions it’s a parallelogram. I have nothing against females and their affinity to multiple men to score at, in point of fact I am for it. For so long women have been mistreated and belittled by men thus for them to have a dose (scratch that a pharmaceutical) of their own medicine then I dare a doctor to stop it. Play on my lovelies, outline the game for them. However keep in mind that this is just like Sport Pesa; nobody goes home the way they left.
Back to the coffin, two innocent men and one lethal woman. I have seen real deep love, probably lived it at some point but it would be a lie if I say the side dude died for love. I mean who do you all think you are? There is no Romeo, there is no Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio) so let’s all come back down on earth and be Juma and Onyango. Oh wait Juma killed Onyango already.
Every situation has its own complexities, there is no black and white. And if there is find out whether it’s charcoal black and if it is really white or Navajo white. Because of so many alterations, I will not delve into the nitty gritty of how the murder came about. Also, I did not get the unbiased story from the men in blue. Typical. Nevertheless, it’s so unfortunate that one does not get to live to their full potential before being laid to rest. Condolences to the family and the girlfriend.
Advice to everyone in an uncomfortable situation whether it’s a love triangle, pyramid, square and so on, DO NOT TAKE ANYONE’S LIFE EVEN YOURS; like that guy Mbaratha says it; it’s never that serious!
Thursday, 24 March 2016
MATATUS DRIVE OFF A CLIFF
Matatus in Moi University Main Campus have been tolled at the Kesses Police Station. There are no vehicles allowed to operate within the University vicinity. Matatu drivers who normally operate at Kesses stage got into crossborder skirmishes when they demanded to park at the campus' petrol station. This did not rub the original service providers well and therefore a war was declared. Several breakages have been reported, two casualties and mutiple theft acts. The main means of transport currently is motorbike services.
THIEF THIEF THIEF
Locals at stage took law under their own hands after they caught a persistent thief. It has been said the 30 year old male has been conducting his free gifts business for close to two years. His random disappearing acts have made it impossible to get apprehended. The locals had had enough this time round. The thief was spotted and beaten for close to one hour outside System Shop. He was under a very critical condition when the locals decided to set him on fire. To be continued.......
Monday, 14 March 2016
Chilvary might be dead in Kenya but its alive and running in West Africa. If i know Kenyan women then you bet they are not there for the oil nor for the accent. Money and fame is the oxygen in this era and we are all compelled to expand our nostrils or better yet breathe through our mouths. These Nigerian men have given the ladies a run for their Naira and now they are even flying.
I am not quite certain what is the fascination with these Oga men but whatever it is Kenyan men need loads of it. Its been said that 70% of West Africa's economy is solely from flights made by Kenyan women. So many women fly to that part of Africa that if they stop going, there will be an economic meltdown.
I am not a big fan of accents(though its rumoured i have one) and that excessive patriotism is sickenning, I won't even start on what they did to Emmy Kosgei. The African print hat,shirt,pants, scarf downright to the sash; come on, are we having an African Rites of passage everyday? Who lives under all that fabric and they don't own a sewing machine? Upholding traditions my Louis Vuitton!!!! Tradition is eating pizza every Tuesday so you can get one more.
However, I will give them credit for the oil,flashy cars,big estates and romantic tales. Nigerians can do anything with anything. They managed to turn their land into a pirate's chest, lookable women into goddesses and broke Kenyan men into more broke Kenyan men (and Kenya is already broke). I mean is it juju or the fufu ?
Looking on the bright side. Kenyan ladies seem happier with the variety of 'exotic' male species and Kenyan men are free to do what they always do; sit around and talk in fake black American accent about Tupac Shakur. Its also good for the country, seeing the current economic status detoriating, we will need all the mahari we can get. No pun.
Personally, I wouldn't have gone for Nigeria, not that I have anything against them (Mike Ezuruonye I love you, Rita Dominic I will be you). I just cannot get past all that fabric, heavy weird accent accompanied with the unnecessary exclamations,head smacking,hand clapping, head bobbing and Jesus calling all the time. Yes, am a hot bowl of soup and i serve it without a spoon.
For all the ladies lurking in Nigeria for a suitor, good luck. For the lady aspirants, keep the fire burning. For Kenyan men....well....keep playing Eurotrack and get married to Agent 47 from Hitman. Dab!!!
National Transport Safety Authority Act(NTSA) is in the limelight again and it only gets worse. Jesus take the wheel. Let me refresh your memory. You remember the AlcoBlow regime? The restricted travelling time? If Mututho's face didnt crop up then lets picture big lips on a dark continent. Yes he makes all our hearts cringe however he doesnt work for NTSA.
The NTSA is responsible for transport licensing,motor vehicle registration, drivers test, motor vehicle inspection and road safety. They are the ones who strive to keep you alive but before then they have to live up to their name. The 'transport' in the name carries alot of money.....ahem......weight.
NTSA needed a security boost as the prior one was considered inadequate. They LEASED 40 Peugeot 308 station wagons(estate) and 5 ambulances for four years only. This expenditure amounted to 631 million. Somebody tell Waiguru or text Uhuru to notify her of these protégés who are coming for the country's jagular. One Peugeot costs about 3.5 Kenya million shillings therefore 40 of them should add up to 140 million Kenya shillings; one fully equiped ambulance costs 8 million Kenya shillings. One question and one question only: why you lying? Why the hell you lying?
180 to 200 million should be the total expenditure, where is the floating 400 million Kenya shillings? And who is behind it?
Sunday, 13 March 2016
Project X ?people puuuuuhhhleaaase! Let me tell you about the Ys and Zzzzzzz. I dont know why everyone is creating such a fuss regarding it when its norm especially amongst young people. Worse things have happened,have been happening, are happening and will happen. Its an apocalypse and drugs are the demons to be exorcised.
We are living in an era where having morals is sin and considered boring. I mean who on the surface has zero traces of drugs in their system? Staying at home on Friday night, waiting for marriage, being honest, having clothes on and generally doing all things that will close the flood gates of hell are unheard off.
We are in a generation where being good has been exahusted. Rigid parenting over the years being the root cause. Stories of parents flipping over the smallest of non issues are in scrolls and scrolls. Getting pinched for wearing a sweater when it is sunny, slapped for giving someone 'bad eyes' (sneering) , being swept (kuchapwa na kifagio) for coming in late and lets not forget getting 'batad' or 'umojwad' (bad brand of slippers).
Such childhood trauma whereby children are intimidated and threatened have a long term effect. Thus ,the youth relish on having less clothes on, spending most nights out and doing everything they were discouraged against.
Youth confide more in friends than parents and this may result in x-rated decisions. Therefore, all parents should strive to be the best of friends with their children. This may not stop the bad behaviour but it sure will steer them towards the good.
A story of a young man, beautiful lass and good lotion.
Ladies generally have a way of getting what they want,when they want and how they want it even if someone ends up in jail. Just when you thought chivalry died with Jack and Jill going down the hill then Kamau came up with good lotion.
When Njeri asked her boyfriend for a 700 shilling lotion, Kamau knew that he had to be the knight in shinning Vaseline for her. And he did.
Kamau went to a local supermarket headstrong to take care of his partner's need. Afterall, lotion can be the bridge to higher heights in the relationship.Unfortunately his pockets were not upto Njeri's standards of living.
Being in a country where we are accustomed to taking without consent, Kamau had only one security guard to worry about. But it was not the only thing he would be worrying about.
It takes 40 days to catch a thief they said but what about all the rookies who have been arrested?
Just two more steps and he was out of the lion's den and into the world. His heart was pounding, sweat dripping wetting his armpits and back. Two minutes have never seemed so long in his entire life. He could feel the eyes watching him,the camera lenses zooming in and that security guy trodding behind him. He was busted and anything he said or did would not need that lotion.
Its been one month behind bars, 13 more months to go....
Keeping Up With Njeri;
Njeri is now somewhere with Omondi who bought her St Ives not Vaseline. Kamau is single and in a jail cell, not worried about any body lotion.
Tuesday, 1 March 2016
There are few things that can cause chaos in the varsity; students losing their cool, administrators gulling over students. Most may seem irrelevant and somewhat petty but do not be mistaken. Getting in between a comrade and their money will open flood gates.
Moi University is notorious for accommodation crisis, bedbug infestation and generally election fraud but who are we to cut the list short? Add meagre allowances issued during the school trip. It is not so mucNoh about the money as it is the progress in augmentation of the allowance. For the past two decades the varsity has been giving each student five hundred Kenya shillings per day during infamous school trips. This is meant to cover accommodation and food which not only is strenuous to get a hold of but also quite dear.
School of Human Resource and School of Information Science have conducted peaceful demonstrations for two days in a row in futility. School of IS which is to travel today to Nairobi has soon departed. The trip lasts for about seven days whereby the school’s bus provides transportation. One or two lecturers are also required on board to supervise the students during the excursion. School of Human Resource is yet to release the dates for departure to Mombasa.
Comrades demand for an increment in the trip allowance from five hundred Kenya shillings to two thousand five hundred shillings. A figure which is unheard of in the varsity but hopefully manageable. The administration has dismissed the polite request time and time again and hence the strikes. Students have adapted the go slow movement and have boycotted classes for close to ten days now. With so little communication from the superiors, this small demonstration may soon break the banks. Until then \team2500 \tripforwho \moneyforall
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
There are three days in the year whose aftermath could leave you either single or dead. Birthday, Valentine’s Day and Anniversary day (bear with ‘day’, it’s for dramatic purposes). To avoid stretching the extremes of the greater species, here is a list of gifts one can get their lady friend;
Valentine’s without flowers is Christmas without a Christmas tree. Obvious fact. Please do not give her five roses, not seven, not ten but twenty or thirty. She may not be starting a greenhouse you may argue but she will start cherishing you more. Flowers= Happy Woman, Happy Woman= Flowers.
This is for those who have dated for a month, barely remember each other’s surname, still lie that they are single, those who want to buy gifts just because and also friends. This is the ultimate gift for every girl out there. The only catch is to ensure the product is quality; MAC lipstick and not Signature lipstick. Suzie’s beauty not Charmax. Oriflame products not ponds.
It’s easy, it’s relaxing, it’s affordable and it’s every woman’s safe haven. Spa treatment is like ice Cream and nobody hates ice-cream.
Married couples can get a hold of this one. Mainly because they have the maturity to select the proper one, the holistic knowledge of their partner’s insecurities and they can afford it. This is a risqué as you need to know the perfect fit. Too big might come across as you calling her corpulent and too small may be misinterpreted as her being fat. Beware.
This is mostly employed by sugar daddies but can be a really nice gesture from a boyfriend. If your girlfriend is using a Nokia 3310, she shouldn’t be allowed to use any mobile network. However you can change this by buying her that new IPhone she has been eyeing and probably unaware of using. Electronic devices stretch over from body massagers, pedicure machine, microwave, and camera to even a treadmill. WARNING; the latter might lead to afterlife.
This is a classic. The people’s ultimate option. However Kevin, Lloyd, Brian, Mike and Drew have also gotten their girlfriends jewelry. Mary, Cate and Ashley detest having the same type of gift. To make jewelry more special, you either make it more expensive or engrave her name on it. Kapish!
A good example is a collection of pictures and videos put together. This can be an album or a movie of some sort. Cards can also be a lottery win. HMGs are very intimate therefore kindly you do not apply if you have dated for two months.
Everyone loves making new memories. Instead of taking her kwa Chela, take her by surprise for a getaway weekend. I promise, this can never go wrong. In the light of promises, ensure you are loaded. Money talks but to go on a trip, money converses even shouts at times.
Know thy woman. To get that Cinderella-perfectly fitting shoe, you need to mark the checklist. Her shoe size, her favorite shoe color (not just general favorite color), the type of shoes she likes (canvas, stilettos, knee-high, thigh high, crocs) and where she gets them. Women are very specific and programmed. Wrong shoe and she will curse you for life. Nothing pains a woman more than having a shoe in the closet that they cannot wear.
Ensure that you met two years prior, ensure you have broken up twenty times, ensure that you have also gotten used to her snoring. The second best day to give her the ring after her birthday. Due note that I am not responsible for any misunderstandings resulting if given sooner.
A good wrapping paper and you have sealed the deal. Any more gift ideas? Add on the comment section and help a brethren out. Happy Valentine’s to you all.
“I don’t really care for Valentine’s day”
Vero said in a rather lit voice.
“Eric treats me like a queen 364 days straight, so one day doesn’t really alter anything”, she goes on.
Tina and I try to embark on another ship before this one turns into a titanic. Vero is a little bit slow when it comes to picking up cues, she rants and raves for hours about non issues; like a government proceeding. However, we still listen to her tales of this credited hero of romance. He was too good. Almost like Jesus good but no one can be that good at least not without relations with the divinities. Her eyes dazzled when she talked of him, she hid it from time to time pretending she had something in her eye but we knew. Her gestures were a quick sell out too.
She went on and on of every nitty gritty and left none to imagination. At some point the three of us felt like we had spent past Valentines’ with both her and Eric. Albeit, we couldn’t completely relate as me and Tina were single like a dollar bill. We finished Vero’s sentences, joined in giggles, took empty glances in the air and just bore it all. Girls literally can go on forever. I am not quite sure how long we endured this but I knew two minutes tops and cupid would’ve showed up.
‘This year he is taking me to Sarova Shaba’
Sarova Shaba sounds like an expensive place, like Kempinsky or Rolf’s Place. But unlike Kempinsky and Rolf’s Place, it’s in the outskirts of Nairoberry. The kind of place you would come across wild animals and palm trees. Large pools, wazungus, exotic food, sultry weather, bikini bottoms and off-road vehicles. How fun does that sound. The serenity is to die for as nature encompasses every frame in its surrounding.
‘So what are you guys planning for Valentine’s?’
Tina giggles. She wants to stay indoors and watch that movie; SPECTRE she has been putting off. Then later in the day go to a place called ‘falls’ here in the varsity. Afterwards gobble up sleeping pills and wake up on Monday. She didn’t even flinch when she was outlaying her grandeur. She always had a laidback feel in all her undertakings. Her life seemed so well put together and such a breeze.
Monday, 1 February 2016
‘Who are you?’
‘Tell us a little bit about yourself’
‘What else interests you?’
Three questions that can make Jack and Jill never climb that hill again. Try answering the prior without taking a moment to pause. I said no pausing. Or rather just the first question using one word. It’s hard. It’s almost like you have never met yourself before. The stranger behind the mirror that issues instructions to you seven days a week.
Explaining why the earth is the third planet and not the fifth seems a tad easier. Or finishing Grand Theft Auto Vice City without cheats. Or taking a simple French leaf in every situation where such prompts are likely to erupt. The latter is practical but some may argue its borderline impossible. It’s closely like doting your last toe on the edge of a chair or banging it with a door.
So who are you? No you are not a student, not even a doctor and certainly not Robin Hood. We spend so much time away from ourselves either by flooding ourselves with work, distractions, and people that we even forget the temporary nature of these very things. Some are identified by job titles, others groups and some fellow human beings; mimi ni Doki, manzi wa Joni, mtoi wa Talai blah blah
There is no greater feeling of ultimate accomplishment than that of knowing oneself. Its pure bliss and glitters as the toppings. The next time you are asked similar questions, you won’t even break a sweat. Let us focus a little less on whether North West will wear pink tomorrow and start worrying if we even like pink. Know Thy Self.
Sunday, 31 January 2016
People care about food, fashion and money. The three basic things you can’t live without fixating on. Trendsetters are spreading like a flu and this varsity couldn’t be kept in the quarantine anymore. Moi University brought the glitz to the glam this past week and to say the least; it was worth the while. The words ‘fashion week’ echo an ambience of class, front row vibe, couture and everything that is six feet above ground.
Well let’s put it like this; Moi University is in the middle of nowhere. Tickets were misprinted, miscounted and fake apparently a signature at the back was the pass. Number of chairs were almost twenty, fifty bouncers at the door and three spotlights. Not exactly an event where you would bump into Rihanna and Giorgio Armani but pretty faces and great concepts were all over.
The kind of event you attend and leave happy that you were part of it. It might not be on the same scale as New York’s fashion week but it’s all a matter of perspective. I simply can’t wait to see what the next one will entail.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
God created the universe in seven days, a fourteen year old took ten days to get constant water supply for her whole village and Noah built an ark in forty days. Soon after, time started tripling with Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Mau Mau so on so forth. However, who said that it must take me decades to finish one degree?
Being held at one place for longer than expected has a way of fostering lunatics. Every day starts to look the same, time drags along excruciatingly; you can almost identify with the seconds. Monday and Saturday become analogous, the weekend seems longer than the week days put together. So much time is dispensed, with the to-do list exhausted one can only be passively crazy. It’s supposed to be a respite; freedom and zero responsibility. But once it kicks in, it can make you wish to kick the bucket.
Waking up to the morning rays filtering through my sheers, the then bright sun fades away by ten o’ clock. The clouds feud and cover the whole sky, hanging so low you could breathe them in. Light showers quickly escalates to a heavy storm, the sky opens and pours like a woman’s wrath. It resumes calm a little after six in the evening. A whole week of indoor activity, the brave hearted jostle with the aftermath to their destination. A burthen to those with an actual life to lead.
These times are bad. This weather is worse. Two weeks down the line you get accustomed to the schedule. You find yourself waiting for six evening to clock in then you go buy a few amenities for the next day. Tallying the scroll because these kind of days are like shillings and you can’t wait to turn them into notes.
Believe it or not, I have been here one week. But the way my mind is set up, I will have disintegrated by ten o’ clock tomorrow.
Thursday, 21 January 2016
The pitch, the harmony, the rhythm and the form so well contorted, to call it a local Kenyan song would be sin. It’s a high energy club banging, roof blowing overly dramatic song. Be sure it will keep your feet stomping like Kirk, fingers pointing like Moi and brow barred at the center with imperious lines like a mad woman. This song has the aptitude to waver every woman’s emotion to that between hatred and loathe.
Nimecatchy Mafeelings oyoyo has a pulled back drop added to it that strips down every emotion carried by the lyrics. The video being high definition pitches in more pros, the clothes and make up, the set and the musician herself are definitely on the correct level. It’s a song every woman can relate to and heck! Even the men can relate whether as perpetrators or victims. Dela is on her way to the top and not even feelings can stop her.
After the glitter, the mud must resurface. The song title is generally not so good; not good enough to say it out loud and not good enough for it to be a chorus in a song. It however represents the Kenyan aspect of queer grammar and phrases. Just in case somebody is thinking of following this similar path, no need to air the country’s deranged way of speech. Normal song titles like Isabella, Nerea, Baadaye and Haree are very much appreciated. They also tend to encourage pride for one’s country. I doubt I will attest to knowing Niko maji by Jalang’o to anyone, my patriotism is tied.
All in all, Dela nailed it on the Adele’s Hello cover and she has done it yet again with her own song. It’s always such an inspiration seeing a woman win.
Wednesday, 20 January 2016
To create a free and safe environment, you do not kick out the citizens. You make the environment suitable. What happened to putting up streetlights? How many more students shall fall victim to insecurity? Which measure is being taken to ensure nobody walks into the premises armed? Installation of full body scanners? Will we live to see security cameras? Night patrols? I won’t start on tarmacked roads.
The kind of change we ask for and that which we deserve does not involve shifting the place where we board the bus. This relocation is pointless and is a silly move to curb attacks. At what point did the panelist concur on such a strategy? Where did we go wrong? They are stripping the little guilty pleasures that help comrades loathe the school a little less. First accommodation,hygiene, lecture halls, decent dispensary and now stage, they will not stop; not until Chela gets it.
They did not move Westgate after the grave terror attack and therefore you should not move ‘stage’ before a threat is even made.
The cobra black sky, the ungodly smell of blood, the tangy taste of air, sudden groaning and yowling as the battlefield becomes slick with innards and constant clobbering and clubbing to preserve life. Most soldiers say it’s their calling to stand in the line of fire, others avoid the whys as no one would resonate.
KDF soldiers are more Kenyan than Kenyans are. Personally, I wouldn’t be so forthcoming in suffering martyrdom for my country. Heck! I wouldn’t even kill a fly if it posed a threat to this great nation. The KDF soldiers are the chosen people. They are the muse for this country, those who give us a reason to raise the flag and to do it with pride.
We did not lose heroes, we were taught how to be one. They reminded us that our country is worth more than what we deemed it to be. That we have no excuse but to do that which is noble in honor of them and to always remain united.
Sunday, 17 January 2016
My eyes seem bloodshot each time I look in the mirror, “Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the prettiest of them all?” My jet black silky hair covers quarter of my face, my make-up precedes perfection, my eyebrows seem surreal and Mac lipstick should seriously consider hiring me as an ambassador. A mash up of Jennifer Lawrence, Khloe Kardashian and Angelina Jolie, no angel comes close and no devil seems more enticing. If only my doctors would halt the medical marijuana maybe my imaginations would tone down. Cancer stage four, hail the heavens and curse upon the fallen angel.
I could have counted a few things that would have been be my Achilles’s heel. But darn cancer, it has some stealth, a certain creep almost like team mafisi but a little more cunning. I have different wigs lying on my dresser, all bearing names; Shaniqua for my ghetto fabulous days, Juliette for the girl next door feel and Precious for the days that life’s returns are less than my givings. Multiple scarves too, hair can be daunting and a tad too cumbersome. These simpletons make me want to wake up every single day plus other mixed bag of reasons.
My old reserves melt daily if not an hourly basis. They look at me different, like am a weakling of some sort, a child whose daily munch is monitored. Strangers take a couple glances more so to satisfy their curiosity and less to issue pity. Few ask at first by hints then by open pressure, they become uneasy upon disclosure then get overcome by guilt for their inquisition. Michael Jackson sang ‘Human Nature’ so I don’t hold my throat when they start asking why. I am still far from tasting the serenity of my health but I am as young as I can be and my vitality as high as it can rise. I grieve to say that I may not see tomorrow but I rejoice in living today like my last.
“I know that I will live long”. “No, I believe I will live long”. I am not my disease, I am not its ramifications.
Tuesday, 5 January 2016
Most of my primary school classmates had gone under the needle and the results, simply majestic. I couldn’t really understand why my mother’s favorite chant ‘you’ll do it after high school’ had to apply especially in this situation. I have ears now, I’ll have ears then, I joked to myself. I wanted my ears endorsed and not by hearing alone.
As I proceeded to form one, I encountered more girls with more dark spots in their ears. An abomination, I thought. It didn’t bother me as much- jewelry was not allowed in school and so many of them rendered to find alternatives. Some used fresh stems of grass, others used short broom bristles and other wazimus made use of staple pins. It appealed to me less and less and my vigor diminished as the school had more important plights to address. However, I did not quite abandon my dreams.
Few days to starting my KCSE I got a pimple on my nose. Probably a result of devouring too much junk food at one hunger episode. It soon diminished albeit a mark was etched following close similarity as that of a nose piercing. I took no notice until a discussion of piercings erupted among some of my friends and I idyllically talked of a nose piercing. One of my classmates drew closer to my face and pointed out that I already had one.
Who was I to put cancellations on this befitting absolutely wrong judgment?
I continued with the frenzy and most took it as the Bible truth, others were skeptical as how I got a piercing in the middle of the term. I took pride in vanity and it came to a sad halt as all wounds heal and all scars fade. I still remember how lit my face was when I was told of my ‘piercing’.
Today I have seven existing piercings; one on each lobe, two extensively apart on my left cartilage, another inside my pinna, another on the cartilage attached to my face and one more on my nose. Maybe am also one of those wazimus.
Piercings are easy to get, its keeping them that is hard. The stringent measures! Lord have mercy! Sleeping becomes a nuisance, four to six months of dreariness just to estimate the least. For the ladies hair grooming becomes a hot pan; blow-drying becomes the fire in every sense. There is no wrong in the world and nothing deserves more punishment than someone brushing their hand through a freshly done piercing. These people belong to jail or juvenile prison from that five month old baby to a fully grown up person; zero discrimination.
Piercings are a form of beauty from our ancestral days hitherto and should be treated as such. Nevertheless it should be done in moderation. Don’t do it like you are applying lotion or in the essence of filling all skin pores. We don’t need walking reflectors, especially those that are straining to the eye. Live well and remain porous!