One time he woke up on the trench of a filthy,smelly urinal in a bar in Kariobangi. A heavy head and a pocket that seemed to have built an endless hall.Empty.His hair was bushy and his wrists pained.He had a cut just below his eyes.His bony hands were weak.His legs twig thin.Carrying himself was a burden,it felt like pushing a crater.He only had his right shoe and a sock on the left.He did not have a sock on the foot that had a shoe on.Strange things happen to people in urinals.His zippers were wide open.He had no boxers though he can’t remember leaving his desk at work without one.Maybe it dissolved.Maybe he did not even have it the whole of that day.He maybe forgot to put them on when he left his small house that morning.He had become forgetful.Like a warthog.He simply could not piece things together.The only past he…
Hi guys welcome to my blog. Welcome to my shanooooo!! In another life I would have been a YouTube content creator. Anyway last week was a heavy week for me plus I had a mini writer’s block, so I could not summon my creative juices to put a piece on this blog. Nevertheless I appreciate every soul that reached out asking why I had not posted. I do not take the time you spare for this blog for granted. Thank you so much.
Moving on swiftly I have a number of things to say:
I was part of the bridal party for my cousin’s wedding over the weekend and guys I have to admit that the wedding was beautiful. Aaaaaawww! Ilikuwa ni sherehe ya kukata na shoka jameni! Edward and Brenda may God bless your union. I wish you all the best in your marriage.
“No! The law is never ‘very clear’ sweetheart. Otherwise lawyers will be jobless” I wanted to interject. But I held my tongue. No need to give her a taste of ‘objection your honour’ before she has gone through “civil procedures” or “jurisprudence”; the units I passed but can’t tell how. I just lifted my eyes from the Forbes magazine I was reading, looked at her as she continued doing her mock presentation before an imaginary courthouse audience in the mirror and smiled. She had her mother’s assertiveness, something that will prove beneficial in the legal field.
Riri had just been admitted to a law programme in one of the most prestigious universities. As a matter of fact, she had three acceptance letters, two of which were on full tuition scholarship. We chose the one nearest to home so that she couldn’t wander so far away from daddy.
They grow up so fast. Just the other day there were toddler cries within these walls and before long, an occasional moody adolescent that would throw tantrums. I vividly remember her first period. How awkward it was that I had to ‘hire’ the mama mboga down the street to come help me explain to her that its not ebola. Girls! Handling them, no matter the age should be considered in a job interview, as a person who has managed to singlehandedly bring up one is very much capable of working under high stress environment. Unlike the boys, they are physically fragile so you just can’t give them a beating as you would your son whenever they err. Yea, I yelled a couple of times, grounded her twice or thrice but never laid a finger on her in the form of punishment. However, these would be followed by hours or days of sulking that I had to bribe her with ice cream for a smile.
She seemed excited. Had plans about the moots she’ll participate, the law firm she will do her pupilage (her father’s of course…where she will be a partner as soon as possible), what she would specialize in and even the year she will finish her Phd and if possible be a senior counsel or a chief justice. I just laughed inwardly. I had long learnt this was better than trying to extinguish that blaze.
I wish she could know finishing your undergrad is at the mercy of student leaders who can call strike anytime, the senate who might repeal some acts in the student’s handbook that may adversely affect their school calendar or the ministry that is not so keen in higher learning. She ought to know we are in a country where to be a senior council, the head of state would most probably look at her age, gender and political alignment rather than her contributions to the legal field. Then there is the Kenya school of law where passing your exam is at the mercy of the person marking your scripts. The place where there’s no definite answer to a question as all can be answered by “IT DEPENDS…..”
The telephone rung jostling the both of us. It was “the one that got away”. Surprisingly, we are good friends and a godmother to Riri. I forgave her for crushing my then fragile heart and even attended her wedding. However, her parents never hide the fact they would have preferred me being their in-law. I always feel she’s the one that influenced her choice of career, not me. “My learned fool…” Riri shouted into the mouthpiece. (If you’re oblivious, lawyers greet each other as “my learned friend…”. I went to prepare dinner to let them have some private girltalk.
“No one is immune to heartbreaks bro!” she told me that when I got dumped a few months ago. Immediately, that feeling of being a failure vanishago. I owe you an akoho of your choosing in your next heartbreak (which I pray it doesn’t happen)
A few months ago, I got heartbroken after such a long time, and this experience made me question a lot of things. As usual, I blamed myself for everything. I had sleepless nights filled with memories and questions upon questions. I even googled in my quest to find answers. Sometimes pain visits you unexpectedly like a rat on di haiwei hahaha! (I always wanted to use that phrase). I did literally everything I could to avoid the pain because wueh! A broken heart interferes with the blood circulation ma fren. A heart break will make your vision blurry, bladder dysfunctional, skin pale, hormones erratic, basically your entire systems will malfunction and you will wonder why medical inventors have never invented its cure. Please don’t say alcohol is the cure because once you sober up, reality dawns on you like a rat on di haiwei (OK Agnes stop it!) I…
I have a younger cousin that frequently calls to ask for advice on matters of the heart. I don’t know when I graduated from Dr Cupid school of relationship psychology and counselling but I can confidently say that I am good at it, if the feedback reports he gives me are anything to go by. That’s probably why he comes back for more. Anyway, someone (I also don’t know his/her name) said that the best relationship advice is from single brats like son of man. Even in my church, the celibate priest gives marriage advice to spouses. That aside, due to public demand, I decided to publish my lecture notes. It is a limited edition go to manual for the green heads. Those who want advanced level lessons can register for it at a little fee. That aside, here is the “shit”
THOU SHALT KISS/SMASH N TELL
If you are the type of guy that announces to the squad every encounter you have had, you are still a baby that runs to the mother to snitch on Brayo from next door for calling you a dog. If you smash, she has given you something so special yet private. Don’t go around insulting her, telling others about that intimate session.
CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS
It’s one thing to visit the loo for a short call and not wash your hands and another walking around with a dirty boxer, with the latter being sacrilege. Don’t leave the house with remains of last night’s meal in your teeth. If you constantly have bad breath, chew some Orbit. Ladies will definitely appreciate it if you wore some cologne to tackle your bad body odor. Don’t be a clean freak though that you walk with a sanitizer in your pocket to disinfect your hands after greeting people. You will be losing your roots.
SALTINESS IS FOR SISSIES
After the unfortunate event of a breakup, don’t be the bastard that hold grudges for eternity. Woe unto you if you air her dirty laundry for the whole universe to see for Abraham, Isaac and Jacob will curse your lineage. To those who post statuses alluding to the “happier now than when we were together” persona, you are only confirming to us that you still got feelings. According to Freud, “the instinct of love toward an object demands a mastery to obtain it, and if a person feels they can’t control the object, or feel threatened by it, they act negatively toward it. Like an eighth-grade boy punching a girl.” only that you don’t know how to express them or can’t.
YOUR GALLERY IS NOT OURS
Ok, I am guilty of surviving on my neighbour’s WIFI hence minimal if not zero budget on a data plan. But that doesn’t mean when I go to the WhatsApp statuses or Facebook all I want to see is your lovey dovey pictures and quotes. I would really appreciate if you kept it private (not secret, I hope you get the difference), only occasionally marking your territories e.g on Valentine’s Day and on her birthday. I also don’t expect her in your profile picture throughout. Halafu, the man that posts everything they do ‘AKO NA UMAMA’ and the chic ‘AWACHE UTOTO’. Please keep in mind that the internet never forgets. Your in-laws and job interviewers may access some of them.
THINK LIKE A MAN
You are your own definition of a man. F**k societal norms and expectations. You want to dress like Young Thug, the degenerate artist from Wakanda just because everyone is doing so… remember you are in Africa where voodoo is real. A person will look at your bare chest and pap, your stomach swells. Listen to your guardians, friends etc but also have a reasoning of your own. Most people will only tell you to do what will benefit them not what will make you happy. They hate her, ok, but since when did they become shareholders in your love life?
LONG LIVE THE HOMIES!
Remember that you knew your buddies long before she came into your life. It’s to them that you will definitely run after a breakup, the ones you call when you become a guest of the state or the bill at Altona café (where you took her for a date) is beyond your wallet’s upper limit. Bros before whores they say, but remember she is not the whore. She’s your girl. Just try to strike a balance.
AVOID HER COMPOUND
To the pathological hyena, go dribble your d**k elsewhere. Her relatives and friends are a NO GO ZONE. Consider them a heavily guarded military installation where any intruder is shot to be killed. If you play here and she finds out, she’ll not only lose her boyfriend but also faith in those close to her.
DON’T LEAVE THE BALL IN HER COURT
Be the man. Don’t make her plan and do everything. Initiate a conversation, make the phone calls, buy her ice-cream, pull the chair for her etc. Make her feel special, and she will be your number 1 fan in everything you do.
LEAVE HER PAST
We all have a past. Don’t peel the scabs that conceal her wounds even when the argument is heated. It probably took years for the pain or shame to fade but with just one word you can bring it all back in a fraction of a second. Try to walk out till both of you calm down
Know her calendar. I repeat, know her
calendar and thank me later. Forget Valentine’s Day and she won’t look you in
the eye, forget her birthday and LO! 3 months dry spell for boychild.
We’re in Russia, passively. At least that’s what our social media statuses say. Now everybody except my girlfriend seems to know all about football. My aunt; the nun, she called me the other night lamenting how Messi is making her lose a bet she had challenge the mother superior. I still imagine her, amidst laughter, at the convent with the other sisters before a screen tuned to SuperSports and not the usual Capuchin TV or Waumini tv cheering their teams. Lecturers are avoiding the 7 o’clock classes saying they slept late because of a match. Comrades are “bouncing tests”. Instead of doing last minute downloading of content (layman’s term for cramming), they had been busy disputing if Christiano Ronaldo really deserved that penalty late into the night. Dates are also being cancelled because “timu ndogo ndogo zinachafua betslip“.
One life hack I’ve learned this period, should I miss a match, due to unavoidable circumstances, is to go to the timelines of the “novice fans”. They post anything and everything that happens in the 90+ minutes. Theirs’ would be a vivid description of how, when, where and what happened. For instance, the coordinates of the exact spot the referee spat will be given. I mean the coordinates in three dimensions, i.e, (x,y,z) The vectors of the direction, the presumed chemical compounds of the saliva, the quantity in litres, velocity of discharge etc. Sampling three of these and you have a pictorial assumption of exactly what happened that would be at least 98.7% correct.
Woe unto you if you go to that of a nigga that lives FIFA 2019, spends 36 hours debating on who between Ronaldo and Messi is the best, (Messi is on his own level. Second only to Gaucho. I even feel Rooney was better than Roro, au juu mimi ni hater…), get to spend the night in a cell because they were caught by the mean men in blue as they came back from watching a champions league quarter finals 3,578 feet away past curfew hours. These people get orgasms just by watching 22 grown up men chase a leather object as if the map to the secretive Wakanda Kingdom is somehow in it and later kicking it to God knows where. They are not the kind that will have time to pick their gadgets and update their status with updates of a match, unless they are ready to suffer the humiliation of not seeing how player X scored from 56 yards first hand . They somehow have the respect to assume everyone has a TV-set. They also know stations available on the free to air or the cheapest decoder bouquet air the matches live.
The next time you see someone posting the updates of a match in real time, know the moron can’t differentiate between a free kick and a penalty kick.
Not that it’s a bad thing. We can’t all be the same, have same interests and disinterests. For the world’s societies to be complete, there must be different characters. That’s why we have mad men, broke niggas like we, excellent footballers like Messi etc. Honestly, I’m not a die-hard football fan. I have a few teams that I casually support here and there, depending on the leagues and who they are playing against. However, I can’t name the full squad of any single team. I only know of wanyama in Harambee Stars. Shift the attention to rugby. I can name the whole national 7s team plus the subs (however this team is always dynamic. There’s always a new appearance and some disappearance that may make a comeback later on). I can tell you that Khayange retired from national duty with more authority than confirm if it’s really De Gea that was the goal man the day Spain played Portugal.
My friends always think I’m less of a man because of my disinterest in soccer. I care less. As long as I have the third leg; my mighty umkhonto we sizwe, and it’s functional (I mean I can pee when standing…hehe), I need no medical examinations to determine if I have a Y-chromosome.
All that aside, I wish you a painful FIFA world cup 2018 season as your teams get *********. Kama Leicester ilipata EPL, mbona underdogs wasipate?? (Tafakari ya babu)
She owed me one. So I reached out to her (agitah.wordpress.com) for an article the other day. She crafted one, that which an ex may compose as a reply to Epistle to my Ex which I wrote a couple of days ago. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the small bodied Hagines’ (Agnes’s) work which I now somehow own after a lil bit of blackmail.
I received your mail. Believe me when I say that I tried to feel your pain. I really did. I even tried to convince myself to give you another chance but the truth of the matter is that I feel no remorse for dumping you because you deserved it…..and so much more. Our love was like a bipolar patient, swinging like a pendulum, from one extreme end of emotions to the other. You always called me a drama queen, well newsflash honey! Drama drives the damn point home! How many times did I have to throw tantrums for you to act? How many? Remember when I told you that I never liked your ‘friend’ Rosy? Huh? How I long suspected that she had feelings for you and that you kinda liked her? All you had to do was respect our love when around Rosy! But no! No babe! You should have seen your face when I showed you the photo of Rosy and you engaged in a passionate lip lock! The photo, which I obtained courtesy of my CID team i.e. ride or die girlfriends, hurt me! Actually hurt is a huge understatement! I was shattered! That is why I slapped both of you and provided a free drama scene for the passersby on that fateful Saturday morning. That is why I dumped you in front of all and sundry at that very moment. They say that there is nothing as embarrassing as woman busted cheating but I wanted you to be the most embarrassed thing under the sun!
You know, it’s funny how you were always insecure. You always suspected me of cheating, kumbe all along you were scared that I could be doing what you were doing with Rosy? Shameless! Maybe now you are wondering whether I got booed up for real. Yes I did. I dumped your sorry ass for someone else, the guy I introduced to you as my cousin hohoho! And he treats me better. Most importantly, he is faithful, say it with me F.A.I.T.H.F.U.L.! Yes this brother man be loyal, you may not understand this concept but I don’t blame you. If the photos of bae and I on social are suffocating your unfaithful ass, then stop stalking me! You lost me! Get that through your cheating skull! We would have been a power couple if you had treated me right, but screwing up was one of your specialties aye?
Here are two little facts about millennial relationships; women can smell bullshit from miles and they are not afraid to walk away from it! And behind every rocky relationship there is a guy masquerading in the friend zone, eagerly waiting for the lady’s boyfriend/husband to screw up, so that he can swing in like Tarzan and take the lady with him. Thank me later. I hear nowadays you are anti-pizza, ati it has something to do with me. Let me laugh hahaha! You should try standup comedy hun. You? Avoid pizza? Chezoz! Let me laugh again hahaha! I hope you get the joke dear.
As for my family, it doesn’t matter how much you hate them because the love we have for each other is more than enough. Please tell your caring sisters that I don’t give a gosh dorn, I don’t give a zebra’s balls, I don’t give a hippo’s butt crack and I don’t give a bat’s eye lashes of what they think about me. Basically, I have no fucks to give! I don’t care if they are baying for my blood! Who invited them to meddle into our affairs anyway? Si it was you? That’s the problem of dating a guy who is always involving his entire clan in his personal affairs. Thank God I dumped you! I also hope your petty sisters know my brothers because I would hate to have their faces disfigured. I am all about peace you know. Also kindly, and this is a humble request, please tell Rosy to stop spewing hate on my social media pages. It is not my fault that my photos and insta stories are always fab just like me. I didn’t beg God to create me like this. Actually, I almost blocked her bitter ass online but I realized that I had no time for such pettiness. Plus you can assure her that I left you for her completely. She can have you all she wants, in the morning, in the evening…. As in, nilimwachia kabisa! I am not interested in sharing!
Ama things are not that rosy with Rosy? (Pun intended).
So unless she is also interested in me (of which I have zero interest in her), she should leave me alone.
You said that love felt like a heart attack when I dumped you, for me it felt like an endless epileptic seizure when I came across photographic evidence of your cheating (read photo of you and Rosy kissing). I was even more infuriated when you blamed your precarious act on enemies of progress using Photoshop! My God! The nerve!
All I am saying is that I moved on, so should you. By the way, I think you and Rosy deserve each other. Both of you are confused and that’s the kind of confusion which you can’t subject any other innocent creature of God to. It would be very unfair, honestly. As for bae and I, we will continue to enjoy our love.
PS: Jazmine is still my favorite scent and you are never getting my new number. I thought that I should be honest.
Your happy, elated, jubilated, madly in love, corybantic, beatific, fine and ever gorgeous, Ex-Girlfriend