Monday, 30 January 2017

Why I wouldn't want to date

Photo:Courtesy
She said I’d meet someone, she who would knock me off the apex of my loneliness or the craving of the same. For me it’s more about the craving to be alone, be reckless, sleep at whatever position I desire and most importantly lock the outside world from intruding into my sanctuary. Not so an exciting life but just worth the introvert in me.

A relationship has so much hassle in it. You won’t be able to repeat your socks, leave them wherever you want, sprawl dirty laundry however you feel. It has perks though, but with a price. The price is commitment and sometimes you pay with your own freedom. It constricts your life, fitting into a narrow prism of a woman’s mind, her stupid and nonsensical ideals, aimed at molding you into the man she wants. Shit, I don’t want that.

And her problems become your problems or at least expect you to be the super hero, chase after the villains and deliver her to a perceived heaven. Be it financial, emotional, physical (which you have to insist about her beauty every morning) and even political. She’ll tell you about all the problems she has had, what her mom has had, her father, brother, sister….pretty much everyone in the lineage of their family. When all has been said and done, you wonder what the F was it all about. Nothing changes.

Often, you must fit her into your schedule no matter how tight it is. You must check on her all the time. Woe unto you if you don’t. You aren't supposed to busy and more so broke. Where do you suppose money come from if we keep responding to your stupid texts? Then she goes to a broke guy with time in his hands, gets disappointed and leaps to the greener pastures, the octogenarian sponsors, staring at their graves.

Enter social media. She’ll ask why a certain girl keeps liking your mundane posts and photos. She’ll want to tell the entire world about how relationship is the best, the envy of everyone. She’ll advertise you, tagging you in everything she does. That’s the epitome of insecurity. We don’t need to be everywhere on social media. It’s a ‘keeping up with us’ kind of shit. Nobody has to know about how happy we are in the relationship, which, thankfully, research has disapproved, terming such kind of uncouth behaviour as that of a very unhappy couple seeking validation and approval from strangers online.


I love the peace of solitude. I love looking at my phone with pride, knowing there’s no girl in the entire world whom I am obligated to check from time to time. I love the peace that comes from not being involved in another’s problems. I love doing things the way I want it done, the way it pleases me. I love not the torment of being accused for something I haven’t done, just because she’s in love with me. Relationships just suck. Nothing but bunch of compounded problems. 

Wednesday, 25 January 2017

SHOULD I GET RICH

Should I get rich, and I feel it’s imminent
I will buy all the things I don’t need
So that others can also buy what they don’t need
Mind you, I will carry myself like a dignitary

When times of spending on a budget are over
I will traverse all the golf courses in the country
And overly indulge my soul in the boring game
Just because the rich can afford the swing

I will track down Vera Sidika, for heaven’s sake
Everybody thinks she has a million dollar vagina
I will make an attempt at it, not to hit it
But to turn over screenshots to desperate bloggers

Should get rich, and I feel it’s imminent
Judging from my unbridled love for sleep
I will vie for an elective post and steal form Kenyans
How they love people who steal from them

Should I get rich, just for fun and pleasure
I shall erect a giant middle finger statue
Next to my ex’s home, their front yard

To remind her of the zero fucks I give 

Sunday, 22 January 2017

I SAW YOUR CRUSH

I saw your crush, the one named Lydia
She looked emaciated beyond Libya
There was no gleam in her eyes
The kind that lit up your thousand skies

She was with a pot bellied guy
A rich man at that, brand bags don’t lie
Mr. Price on the right, Chicken Inn on the left
Ah! How you were royally financially bereft!!

The thighs and ass that we obsessed over
It’s gone man, like it was overran by a land rover
In its place seemed to be patches of meat
Wobbly and, disgustingly, indiscrete

She doesn’t look anything like the video vixen
That graced your favorite song, Seventh Heaven
She walks like a ball of human flesh
It’s blasphemy to walk to her and say ‘Sasa mresh?’


THE DECEIT

Just as the world watched the greatest nation on earth inaugurate a racist, misogynistic, sexual predator and most importantly a braggart billionaire, Fiona too was inaugurating, or getting inaugurated into the cruel world of deceit, and worse, from the person who would be the last to abandon her. It’s during her hour of need that she’s thrown into an abyss of uncertainty and self-loathing. Her instincts are reduced to a single question; why me?

On the day she learnt that that her parents were no longer willing to pay her rent, she also learnt that her dear Eric was a dead beat father and a debt ravaged human mongrel. She had lent her entire savings to the man she trusted, the man she loved and the man she thought was overly and totally crazy about her. It’s not good to snoop around, it lets you into a treacherous trait of deceit from people you totally gave all your trust. The cover ups, the lies…damn the world.

She’s laid awake at nights the entire week, thinking and thinking about how all this could happen to her. Why does she attract bad guys? Why do they end up betraying her trust? These and many other questions walked briskly in her mind, with Trump-like carelessness and outright disregard to the virtue of trust and may be the biblical or whatever the phrase originated from, that we should treat people the way we wanted to be treated.

Sitting at Smothers Restaurant, Fiona would occasionally stare blankly, thought with intent and attention of a watch repair man, at nothing in particular. She’s pretty and has the potential of driving men crazy, a chauffeur without a car. But that isn’t a guarantee an upright man will walk into her life. Fiona sips her tea, it tastes salty. Her palate is rebelling against the tea. It’s here that she sees clearly the lies he often told, about having been bereaved, about his salary being delayed and how that sneaky bastard, whom she hates to admit that she deeply loves, could dupe her into digging into her savings, albeit little by little, until she depleted her coffers. After all, she thought, he’d get through tough times and they’d be happy together. That wasn’t to be.

Eric had had a major fight with Lisa, his baby mama, having spent the entire Christmas period with her. Fiona cringed at the thought of Eric spending her money buying diapers. The fight had made Lisa confiscate his phones as any woman would, when the man her man wasn’t providing for the kid, a three month old at that. Lisa had seen it all, alone. The cries the baby made at the time when was beginning to enjoy her sleep, a reprieve though temporary, from the thoughts that had eaten into beauty and weight. She no longer had the luxury of ‘pimping’ herself and she now looked like that gunia strapped on the back of a street man, collecting precious yet discarded materials. Lisa can’t remember the last she made her hair. She can’t remember the last time she looked beautiful. Motherhood eats into your time, your social life.

Lisa had gone through Eric’s phones and had found out about Fiona. She thought about how she was ‘eating’ her baby’s diaper money and most of all her man. As any woman would do, she had opted to call her to warn her or just to inform her of the man she was getting involved with. Lisa thought there’s no limit a man would go to if he can abandon his offspring. She informed Fiona of that, with the hope that Eric would see the light and man up to his responsibilities. But hope is a dangerous thing, it can kill a man for Fiona had no thought of breaking up with him. It’s also through that call from Lisa that she learned that Eric was/is a playboy, a man with who couldn’t keep protuberant tool under control, in the presence of a skirt. It’s also through the call that she learnt that Lisa fell pregnant accidentally, the usual crap. No one trips and falls on a dick, no, it takes consent. Lisa was just being reckless, hiding stupidity under the term ‘accident.’

It’s that call that informed Fiona the kind of man she was getting involved with. She was at crossroads. Her meager earnings as an intern wouldn’t sustain her. The rent would eat into her allowance leaving her with nothing. Her savings would have come in handy at times like this. She had gambled it with a man, although expecting the same amount back. It wasn’t too much a risk, was it? It’s not like those sport betting firms, at least she would have been assured of a profit or worse still lose everything. The worst is losing to man, her world, he pillar, her steady rock during storm and most of the man she immensely adored. She consoled herself that at least she isn’t pregnant with Eric’s baby, a playboy, in local terms an esteemed member of the infamous mafisi Sacco, though he’d be expelled once word got out that he had breached one among the many rules of this club of mongrels-borrowing money from a woman.

Fiona got out of Smothers Restaurant, and made her way to Koinange Street where she would dance part of her night away. It’s seven in the evening. Street lights give the city a serene look, a semblance of sunset. It’s somehow looked romantic. She crossed roads and streets, fearful that a reckless driver might knock her over. All she could think about was salsa. She loves salsa. It relieves her mind, makes her think clearly. She would forget about Eric for awhile, no, about the money she’d lose in the event Eric decides its worth more than the pussy he was getting. She would immerse herself in the steps, the swirling around and the kizomba music that played softly in that salsa only club. She regarded this place in the same manner a believer would to a church or the confession chamber. Here she’d find refuge.

As she descends down the stairs, into the basement, the location of her temporary refuge, Fiona’s mind can’t think of anything except how to recover her money, and possibly get back at Eric, mortally wounding is pride. She thinks of planting cameras in her bed sitter, to capture him on the throes of passion. She thinks of cheating on him on the same bed and making sure he knows about. With this thought, an easy one, because a pretty girl like her can never run short of admirers, who will be at her door upon a moment’s notice. But with all these men hovering around her she could afford to mess with this mongrel of a man in Eric.

She’s thinks of slashing his car tyres.  But then she doesn’t know if he truly won’t pay her money. He promised to at the end of the month, ten days to go. At midnight the dance was over. And she traced her way to her abode, and into her bed, that grew progressively colder every single day. She fell asleep too quickly, owing to the fatique. Last night she had left an event at 2 am in the morning, affording the fewest hours to sleep. She slept soundly.


WATCH OUT FOR PART II 

Friday, 20 January 2017

I HAVE NO CHOICE, I DECLARE HER YOUR WIFE

Barely home from a night of bingeing
Hardly asleep yet someone’s knocking
With fury and intent of breaking it down
“Open the damn door you useless clown!!”

My mind is in disarray, fumble with the blankets
Look for clothes to wear among the water buckets
The intruder is quite now, he’s heard the noise
He can break the door, but he’s reserved that choice

As I struggle to adjust my pupils to bright light
With bloodshot eyes betraying my nocturnal delight
He pulls me by the collar of my shirt, furious
Like a short changed drug dealer, dead serious

“Son of nobody with brimstone down your loins
How dare you lure my daughter with coins
And cooled your burning down the coveted stream
Now it’s dry, with nothing to hold to, without a dream”

In tow is his daughter cowing with fright,
We’ve met before, in fact spent many a night
The inevitable had finally happened
Thought I ‘A rough ride here, seat belts must be fastened’
“Isn’t he the one?”  he turns to her once pretty daughter
I cursed her, she couldn’t tell me she was sired by a monster
Chit, my whip would have cowed with fright
May be I would enjoying the sleep I forewent last night

“You leave me no choice but to pronounce you
A husband and wife, find a way to get through
You can have her for the rest of your life

Should she set foot in my home, your neck will stop a knife”

Sunday, 15 January 2017

Open letter to the proponents of Uthamaki

I trust that you are enterprisingly well, in health and business. I am fine too, except that I am heavy with thoughts as we approach the election year. I know you are gathering your number, even from unspeakable places (we’ve heard of your ancestors coming back to vote), as mass voter registration kicks off. That’s not a big deal, for you know the value of numbers.

What bothers me the most is the fact that you are overzealous about the presidency. Why are you are so apprehensive that a leader from another tribe, especially the lake region, may usurp to the presidency? A self-righteous man, of upright moral character doesn’t have a reason to be worried. Kenya belongs to all of us. The recent attempt by the president to alter history of our heroes worries the crap out of me. Tell me, what is it that you are sacredly scared of? Tell me in a language a toddler in your region so understands, that they spew hatred to others.

In all honesty, we love your enterprising spirit. And you, in the numbers scattered all over Kenya, speaks volumes on your role in uplifting and promoting the economy of our beloved country. Your unity as well is what the Luhyas should readily emulate.

Born out of the need to fend off political scavengers, UhuRuto bromance blossomed and strolled to the house on the hill, with their youthful digital swagger and vigour. The duo boisterously claimed that ‘they’ were aiming at locking them out, or rather sought to benefit from their downfall, which brought two fiercely antagonistic tribes together, The Kalenjins and The Kikuyus. Will you stand by this friendship up to 2022 assuming that UhuRuto rides through the NASA storm? Or will your prove that this was just but a friendship of convenience?

As your leaders marshal you to register in mass, does it ever occur to you that, by trying to keep ‘the other’ from ascending to power, you support plunder of public resources? Your leaders exercise blatant disregard for you as lowly, poverty stricken people, brainwashed by Uthamaki bullshit. What do you gain from it? I can bet my ass its nothing, except willfully watching your people die from the biting doctor’s strike, as you proudly exclaim “wacha mtu wetu akule!!” 

I know it’s futile to attempt to make you see beyond your narrow tribal prism. Be glad though that you are not alone in this. You have Kalenjins, the Luos, the Kambas….pretty much everyone is tribal, so much so that Aden Duale can claim that the results of the presidential elections will have been concluded once IEBC releases the voter register in March. But there’s something beyond power that grips you, that blinds you. You need protection from what? Does the constitution favour other tribes that you so crave and need protection from your own?

As a parting shot, we want a Kenya that has equal opportunities for everyone regardless of their ethnic and social backgrounds. We want a Kenya where everyone is united by their unique differences. We want a Kenya where no one is scared if they are doing the right things.


Friday, 13 January 2017

MY LOVE, I HAVE BOUGHT A TRANSISTOR RADIO

When you go to Ravine, dear reader
Or pass by the place
Please find my love Cheptoo, and tell her these
If she doesn’t a phone, that is,

Oh you are asking how you fill find her?
They live in a mud walled house before the stream
Or ask a renowned drunkard in the area
They’ll lead to her father, there you’ll find her

Now that you know where to find her
Please tell her I’ve bought a new transistor radio
And two bi speakers, 
So that she can tune in to her favourite station
Also, my small brother finished school
And left me his mattress, its more comfortable now
Tell her she won’t complain of back pains when she visits

Tell her, this is important, that my uncle promised me a job
Not a fancy one, but in the great city of Nairobi
I will a security guard, with my own uniform
Tell her I will come for her and take her with me
So that she can know what it means to miss mursik
And eat thin transparent chapati by the road side

Please don’t get jealous, please deliver this message
She’s is my light during the day and even the night
Tell her I think of her like Kiprono thinks of gold medal
Tell her I dream of her like Raila dreams of presidency
Tell her I will cling to her like Mugabe to presidency
Tell her I miss her and she must visit me soonest
Or else I find someone else, like I have done sometimes

Tell her none have been comparable to her, of course