Category Archives: random


My Dear Doris,

I can’t remember the last time I wrote to you my Love. The truth is, I went silent to see if you really cared. To see if you will write back to check if I am alive. I have since learnt that you do not care. Which kills me. But it is fine Doris. It is not like I chose to fall madly in love with you right? It is not like I planned to meet you! It is not that God decided to plant the fullest of hips on you… Or naturally lighten your skin… Doris, what I am trying to say is, it is not my fault to have fallen this deeply for you. It is not my fault! And it kills me that you treat this like it is my fault! We loved each other Doris. Madly! What happened to us? What happened to us sensing the other was not well.. What happened to those long hours in each others arms? What happened to ‘We do not care what our parents think?’… What happened? I miss you.

You do not pick calls anymore. It sure felt good being able to call you when ‘Sura Yako‘ by Sauti Sol came on the radio. Our song! I have decided it is our song! You know how much I love Sauti Sol.

I am writing this as I listen to Michael Bolton! With ear phones lodged deep in my ears! I listen to Michael Bolton when I am writing. I am embarrassed. But I feel theres no better jams to pour your heart out to that Michael Bolton… Especially when it is a sad story! His voice is just the right pitch for telling a sad story.

A lot has happened since I last wrote. Nothing ‘near death’ though!

I have been having a difficult time sleeping the past few days! I like sleeping, and I conc* out in seconds no matter what is on my mind. That is why I can watch horror movies so easily in the dead of the night when I am alone. I will not have issues sleeping through a good exorcism movie! I have slept like a baby right after a bad break up! I will cry, yes… Lakini saa ya kulala ni saa ya kulala! I remember one time in primary school my mum was called in by the deputy head teacher because she thought I was sick. I had slept the whole day! Hehe! Also, without an alarm, I can be asleep 17 days mfululizo*! I like my sleep and if it gets to a point where I can’t sleep, it is a BIG! Let me explain!

The Upper Hill Falls!

The Upper Hill Falls! And 200k apartments in the background!

I live in Madaraka. A railway line separates Madaraka from Upper Hill. The apartments opposite mine (on the Upper Hill side) cost 200k a month! So that railway line is just the world telling me, ‘LANES NIGGA… LANES!’

About a month ago a sewage pipe blew up on the Upper Hill side. Not the usual 3mm pipe burst you see everyday. This was some major shit transporter! It got worse with every passing day! It was a water fall in a week! And I am not exaggerating! Please try to take out the picture of a waterfall of shit from your head, because it wasn’t anything like that! Just RAW water. Does that make sense? It is just green water that looks like it would satisfy a medium skuma wiki farm. It looked quite rich!

So, of late, I have learnt to sleep with the sound of a water fall in my back yard. Which is not so bad. It is soothing… Sleeping to the sound of high velocity water hitting the ground is quite heavenly. It is almost like rain hitting the walls of your apartment… It is like sitting in your car and watching rain hit your wind shield. I am trying to tell you that it is nice! Everyone knows how beautiful it is to sleep to the sound of rain!

Now imagine I have been sleeping to this waterfall for a month then Nairobi City Water and Sewerage Company decide to fix it! One of the few things they are doing right is wrong! I am still mad at them for bursting my water metre! Now I can’t sleep. Madaraka Resort and Spa is now just Madaraka!

This one is for K-Waxx who can recite almost all my letters to Doris word for word!

Important Note: I thoroughly appreciate my readers. Very few things give my heart the same warmth as when a fan goes, “Dear Doris!” You mean a lot to me.

Another important note: My blogger friend @MagungaWilliams is contesting for a really big #Samsung tv. If he win this huge #Samsung tv, he gets to give whomever he chooses another #Samsung tv. I have no clue how this works but I want that other #Samsung tv. I have no idea what one is supposed to do or how one is supposed to do it… All I know is everyone who wants this other #Samsung tv keeps on using the hash tag #Samsung all over the place. Read @MagungaWilliams’ work here Real G so that he can win tvs for all of us. Also comment there telling him it is me he should give the #Samsung tv to!


Posted by on October 30, 2014 in comedy, random, short comings


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Dear Doris,

My love, I will scurry through this one.

Someone asked me the other day why I love you so much! She asked if I love the way you make skim wiki or ugali! She asked if you make me breakfast in the morning and if you knew I was lactose and intolerant and allergic to onions! She asked if it was because you love me unconditionally! I had no answer, but in my heart I knew it was not because of any of those things. I love you… I just do!

I went to an Mpesa stall day before yesterday. I have a specific Mpesa place I go to every time. I lost my ID ages ago and I am too lazy to get a replacement so I decided to make an Mpesa lady friend who will not ask me for my ID. I have been going there almost a year now and she has even mastered the first four numbers of my ID number! After a transaction she will go like, “ID number ni two, eight, seven, six halafu?”

This is an expensive relationship… time-wise. I cannot just go there withdraw or deposit money and leave! We have to talk for a short while. We gossip, she knows everything going on around her! The other day she was telling me how two waiters from a nearby restaurant, a man and woman left together holding hands. She things they are having sex!

The Mpesa lady, Prisca, is short. She was nothing above four and a half feet. She is really dark with shinny chubby cheeks that have seen their fair share of Vaseline Petroleum jelly. On hot days she shines from all the molten petroleum on her face and on cold days the sweat pores on her face are sealed shut!

Her breath is detestable and the braids on her head are few, maroon and scattered. She has three blouses, a green net one, a milky silk one and a brown net one. Her nails are all eaten up deep into the skin. The skin around her nails is chapped from missing the nails when she bites at them. Prisca’s laugh is a modified snore. It is funny!

After I deposited 1,200 bob Prisca said, “ID number ni two, eight, seven, six half?” I gave it to her then she slid the Mpesa book for me to sign. A drop of blood left my nose and hit the Mpesa book with a light decent blop! I knew I was going to nosebleed at some point because I could smell blood iron. Do you know that smell?

nosebleed3pf-e1270053006833You see, I have been nose bleeding every single day for almost ten years now in the shower. It was scary at the beginning but not anymore now that I know I am not dying. A doctor said a blood vessel in my left nose raptures very easily. He said it is normal and can be treated by a minor surgery… I lost him at surgery! To confirm to myself I am not dying, I go donating blood once every now and then to make sure I am not dying. My blood pressure, blood sugar and BMI are tip-top! Who wants to deal with life disrupting news right?

Recently I have been having random nosebleeds during the day, and this was one of those ones!

Prisca jumped back and cover her nose with the edge of her sweater! She looks at me foe a second or two and ran out of the Mpesa stall. I was certain she was running to get help when she ran into a nearby chemist! I had no clue what to do, ‘should I stay there until she came back or just leave?’ I asked myself.

Then, still with her sweater covering her nose, she came out of the chemist with two men in white gowns. Then she pointed at me!

The two guys wearing green rubber gloves (P.S – I just asked what those gloves are called aloud and someone said surgical gloves. I do not believe him)

The two guys suspecting I would run off were gesturing all sorts of peace gestures as they walked towards me!

I just stood there pinching the bridge of my nose trying to make the bleeding stop.

The two led me into the chemist and to a back room and made me lie facing up on a doctor’s table. This was really scary by the way. This is how people get raped. Being led by two strange men into a semi lit room!

They checked my temperature and asked me if I have been having random headaches. My temperature was fine and I had not been having random headaches. Then they asked if I have always had nosebleeds and I said I had, everyday for ten years!

The two men walked out of the room. I could hear them whispering things to each other. I sat up just to be ready incase they were planning to come in hard and hold me down and rape me! I clenched my fist and raised it to look intimidating!

They walked back in and told me they suspected I had Ebola but that was not the case. Prince had told them I had Ebola!

One of them gave me nose drops and told me to put two drops of it three times a day! He said it was free. I walked out of that chemist and threw it away! You do not just give people things and ask them to put two drops in their nose three times a day! That’s how people get killed!

I completely ignored Prisca as I walked past her Mpesa stall. I am blind to snitches.

P.S For some reason my computer does not consider Prisca a valid name and keeps changing it to Prince. So Prince and Prince is the same thing.


Posted by on August 22, 2014 in comedy, near death, random


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Dear Doris,

I love big women. Big light skinned women. Big light skinned with long lustrous hair… And small feet. Not just any small feet, I love number 5 feet with short fat toes. I love big light skinned small ‘feeted’ intelligent women… Funny women. That is why I love you… And that is why I will never stop loving you! Because you are big and light skinned, and intelligent, and you have long hair and you have tiny feet with short fat toes!

The following takes place between 9am and 10am today! August 1st! Events occur in real time!

Read the paragraph above in Kiefer Sutherland’s voice! Then imagine a clock ticking…

I am not a morning person! Only millionaires and billionaires are morning people. Mornings are not for the suffering like me! If I am up early it is because I absolutely have to or I have been threatened that I will be fired if I didn’t show up at 8am… Outside of those two scenarios, I prefer to wake up at 8am and be at the office by 9:30am. That way I get to listen to Quarter After Laughter on Xfm at 9:15am (Do not look at me like that! I make up by working late… I am a night person! I get super creative and intelligent after 8pm!)

I had just driven out of the gate at about 9am and was thinking about a text the house help had just sent me reminding me to buy Harpic when a cousin, @ongalok calls!

“Where are you?” he asked with maximum urgency in his voice.

I found Doris on the Google...

I found Doris on the Google…

People who call in the morning with maximum urgency in their voices at that time of the morning are either delivering catastrophic news or extremely good news. No one ever calls at 9am just to be nice. Nothing like, “Ian go out and have fun and stay young!” or “I feel like sending you money on Mpesa today, can I?” It is always,”The cheque has bounced!” or “You are late for the meeting!” or “Tuma peas ya Harpic!” or “Come pick the cheque!”

Where was I with this?

Yes, @ongalok calls and says Shell Mbarathi is giving out free fuel!

“They Almost filled my tank!” he emphasises! (filling the tank was an exaggeration as you will later learn) This was one of the extremely good news ones!

I work in Spring Valley and my route is Uhuru Highway through Waiyaki Way to Westlands Roundabout then through Lower Kabete Road… Exactly 8.7 Kilometres! That is 250 bob worth of fuel or 300 with slight traffic! You need to be very good in math to survive in this Nairobi!

So back to the call!

I totally lose interest in getting to the office in time and join Mbagathi Way. My fuel light was bright and confident, so I fuelled at the Madaraka Shell for 500/-. A yellow Shell sticker is smacked on the ass of my car and I am told I will need it to get free fuel.

Shem Shem, calls me just before I leave Shell Madaraka and asks me to bring her a sticker. She was almost at Shell Mbagathi but she didn’t have a ‘free fuel’ sticker!

With free fuel on my mind and extra ‘free fuel’ sticker I set off.

Shem Shem is getting really worried because she is getting really close to Shell but she still doesn’t have her ‘free fuel’ sticker. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it because I think @ongalok had told everyone in Nairobi! The traffic on Mbarathi way was grim! And almost all the cars in front of me had a yellow ‘free fuel’ sticker! It was safe to say Shem Shem was screwed!

My fuel light starts blinking at Umash Funeral Home! Hehehe. Do they take dead cars? Thats not even a funny joke and I am sorry!

Just at Umash I switch to Capital FM for updates on this free fuel maneno! I learn that they ar only giving 1000 free fuel! ALL THE HUSTLE FOR 1000 FREE FUEL! And only for the first 300 cars! Motorbikes included… I could see like 5,000 cars in front of meall bearing yellow stickers!

I gave up! But I had to deliver Shem Shem’s sticker!

I find her at the Shell entrance but I can’t give it to her. I have to go Ngumo to get parking then come back on foot… This was impossible because the whole place had stopped because of the free fuel!

Shem Shem is blowing my phone!

I park at a random bus stage and run to Shem Shem holding the yellow ‘free fuel’ sticker!

I get into a bit of trouble because a security guard thought I was being cheeky trying to re-redeem my sticker. He held me by the shoulder so hard I almost shit my pants. I am so fragile and cute if you hold me hard at my shoulders I can shit my pants!

I explain myself and he lets go of my scapula! The fuel station was like blankets and wine… Soon many cars and so many familiar faces.

As Shem Shem gets her free fuel, I run back to Esmeralda and drive to the office! Esmeralda is my car! I drive up Mbagathi Way, through Woodlands Road, through Kileleshwa, through Westlands Roundabout, through Lower Kabete Road… That is 10 kilometres… 350 bob worth of fuel!

I get to the office late, tired and without free fuel with a huge hello sticker smack at the centre of Esmeralda’s ass!



Posted by on August 1, 2014 in big beautiful women, my car, random


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Electric Avenue

Doris wangu,

*Lets see how much Swahili I have learnt*

Naomba mi na wewe tuwe. Kutoka tulipo kutana, sija wai kufikiria tuta’achana, lakini, tulivopendana hueleweki unaniumiza sana… Upendo gani na sikuoni baby? Upendo gani hupatikani honey? Upendo gani huniamini baby? Uliemyafuta ulisha pata, anaekupenda sana kweli usiwai kata. Mimi na we, twende wote kwote unataka. Tukae, tule, tunywe ujue mi nilisha data. Wasikudanganye eti sina uwezo, ninao, na sio mchezo. Mbona kunipa mawazo. Hamua, hamua, hamua baby.

Moyo wako ufungue,upendo wa ukweli uje uingie, nacho omba kama niko na wewe, utaratibu pekee baby tuendele. Mimi na we, tuwe wote milele.

Ok you must be wondering how extremely good I am… Those two paragraphs are from my best song right now called Valu Valu by Chameleon…

On to more pressing matters…

P.S – My head is pounding as I write this…

The other day I decided to use a matatu to go to work. This was a random idea conceived from the lack  of what to write to Doris About! Be sure when I get into a matatu, THERE WILL BE A STORY! I have this mentality that all matatus driving towards the CBD go to the CBD. So when the makanga went like “Mbao mbao B… Mbao mbao B” I thought it was a really cool deal… I got in short gun and fell asleep… It was like 8am.

“MWISHO mzito!” the makanga calls out and shook me so vigorously that I felt my brain move inside my head!

I was NOT ANYWHERE near CBD! I did not know where I was and I was not going to embarrass myself by asking the makanga where I was.. So I got off and confidently walked the man like I knew where I was going… Heading straight for a butchery!

I asked the butcher where I was… Before he could answer, a kid jumped up from behind the counter and asked, “umepotea?”

Nairobi Hustle!

Nairobi Hustle!

“South B!” The butcher replies! “Matatu za kuenda tao ni mamba?” I ask him… He doesn’t answer… He points at a cluster of old vans across the road using a butcher’s knife.

“Tao ngapi!” I ask the makanga… “Salasa!” he replies! I had no idea what salasa is but he was going to town and that was the most important thing!

Let us fast forward up till home time… And Yes I got to the office safe!

So you know how shitty the Nairobi weather has been lately… It has been raining camels and hounds!

It is home time and I have to leave the office. It is raining hard… I have to leave with the rain pouring because for one, I have no clue where to get Madaraka matatus in town! And two… There is no two!

I get to town and ask around… No one like giving directions when its raining…

I ask this guy who was standing outside Sanford… “Buda, mat za Mada nachukua wapi?” The young man looks at me and very disgusted replies, “Wacha kunipima akili we fala!”

I walked away quietly extremely confused!

“Bus station” A watchman I asked replied… That was not close!

So I am walking in the rain… I am drenched and I stop caring about being rained on!

I get to Sunbeam (near Bus Station) and there is this annoying Kikuyu man walking very slowly in front of me taking on his phone… I know he was Kikuyu he was wearing a promotional TNA hat. He might have been a Luo, and if he was a Luo, then he was one Luo with major balls! Oh and he was speaking Kikuyu or Spanish, or Greek… I could not understand a thing he said!

I pray that doesn’t sound tribalistic… I hate tribalism!

Anyhu… Overtaking this guy would have meant going out of the pavement and into the rain! I liked the pavement so I trailed him and cussed at him inside my head!

Then the man stops on his tracks! I almost bump into him… I am so pissed of I decide to go around him… THEN HE STARTS SHAKING VIGOROUSLY ON THE SPOT!

In my head this man could be going through one of two things:

1. He had just discovered he was pressed and couldn’t hold it in any longer! or

2. He was going through an epilepsy attack…

My conclusion, epileptic fits make you fall so he was definitely pressed!

It was weird because I just stood there looking at him shake for a few seconds before he fell… In Nairobi you never know what to when you see someone in need of help… It might be a ploy to rob you of all your stuff… As in, in this city no one can be trusted…

Thats when I saw what he was standing on! An electric FUCKIN line…

No one stopped to help him… I was still rooted on the spot! The man’s phone was still in his grasp! His eyes were open and he was looking straight at me! There was no way I was going to touch him…  I would shake in the same way, fall to the ground and look at someone else… As in the cycle would be vicious!

A random man jumped out of god knows where with a huge broom and hit the guy on the ground with the intention of moving him to a safe place… I think! This was absolutely unnecessary!

In seconds people started helping… A crowd formed around the guy… I was still at the exact spot I stood…

The man did not die… I think!

He should have won wellingtons though! I got Madaraka matatus by the way…

International news: Kim Kardashian is pregnant!

Do you see how extremely useless that information is? Imagine reversing it… Someone telling Kim Kardashian that Mary Atieno is pregnant! Makes absolutely no sense!


Posted by on April 15, 2013 in comedy, matatu tales, moving out, random


Day 2 Night 2

My Lovely Doris,

I miss you beyond comprehension my love. My heart is tires from the urge it has from beating when you are close… I don’t understand that last sentence!

It has been long since I last wrote, and I apologise… It has been a busy month! It is crazy at the office… It has been crazy everywhere… Elections and all… The man I voted for lost the elections… The ink on my pinky haunts me, reminding me every time that WE LOST! My president is in court though, WE REJECTED THE RESULTS!

I have so much to tell you my love… I want to tell you all of it… But I can’t! I have to work… For your food, mine and our future children…

I moved out of my mother’s house… ULULATIONS!

Now we can start making children! 🙂

I had no idea moving out was such an uphill task! That project is ELEPHANT! I knew this when I went to buy a mattress! In my head, a mattress and a bed would cost me, not a cent more than 15,000… A mattress is 23,000/- I almost shit my pants… Long story short, POOH JUST HIT THE FAN!

I managed, with some miracle, to get a bed and a mattress… Then there is duvets and sheets and pillows… SHIT! A duvet is 5,000/- THEN THERE IS SOMETHING CALLED DUVET INNER! WTF! That thing is like another 5,000/- and I don’t even have sheets yet! I will stop there because I am running short of breath just thinking about it!

I found Doris...

I found Doris…

Its Tuesday today… I have been in the new house two nights! Here is the journal:


My parents came over for dinner! With them, they carried my younger brother and sister and my cousin… If your math is right, those are five human beings… Not long after they walked in, 3 more relatives followed! We are now ten human beings in this house… My brother (I moved out with him) and I bought six things of shit… Six plates, six glasses, six bowls and a few spoons… Ok that’s it! It gets worse!

We did not have salt… So the food was pretty saltless! You must be asking yourself where the food came from… My mother!

As people ate, someone asked for drinking water… We had none… WE HAD NOTHING TO DRINK! We boiled water in the kettle and shoved it in the freezer, hoping it will get cold in a bit… By the time our visitors were leaving, the water was still steaming!! Our beloved guests went home choking on chapati and chicken!

I had to do the dishes after the guests left… THE AGONY! The last time I did dishes was somewhere in 2010! My brother refused to help, saying, and I quote, “I don’t do domestic chores!”

My brother and I went shopping for stuff we had just realised we did not have… Salt topping that list… We bought all sorts of beverages… sodas juice… tea… So next time we are ready for thirsty guests!


I got home about two hours before my brother… Those were the loneliest two hours of my life! Now I know how those wives whose husbands work late feel!!! No wonder they are always so bitter… ts fuckin’ lonely man!

I warmed some food leftover from the night before and popped a soda!

I almost took a shower because there was nothing else to do after eating!

I went to the kitchen with my laptop and watched an episode of Breaking Bad Season 4.

I live much further from my office… So I have to leave the house by 7… This is SHIT!


I need to find out how electric bills are paid using that thing that looks like a calculator mounted at the door! I also need a house help… A French one if possible! But above all, I need Jesus!



Posted by on March 12, 2013 in big beautiful women, moving out, random


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My Lovely Doris,

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. I can’t see how I can go on living away from you—these intermissions are death. How did it seem to you when your husband came back? Was I still there? I can’t picture you moving about with him as you did with me. Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old—you are a thousand years old.

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc?

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

My lovely Doris, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever!

I picture you playing the records over and over— your husbands records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervour in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

Yours forever,


Above is a letter from the book ‘A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953’ I loved it so much that I decided tailor it for Doris. Or rather, copy pasted with Doris’s name thrown here and there! The original letter can be found here.


Posted by on February 22, 2013 in love, random, sex, women tales


I have a husband

Dear Doris,

My life has never been the same since the day you walked out of it… How I would love to say I am ok without you and I don’t care what’s going on with you…. I would be lying to myself if I said I will stop loving you! Among the few impossible things… That is one one!

My love, there has been a few changes at work… I am not in the creative department anymore… I have moved to sales and marketing. Please close your mouth, I was dumbfounded as well when I heard the news… That is why I haven’t written in such a long time… I have been busy in the field making deals, selling and seducing retailers to stock our books… Doris, you know I work for a publishing company right?

One thing I have learnt since I changed jobs, SELLING BOOKS TO AFRICANS IS AN IMPOSSIBLE TASK! A very minute percentage of the black human beings surrounding you read for pleasure… A shocking percentage do not read a single storybook/novel after high school… Someone once said, “If you want to hide money from an African, put it between the pages of a book.” I work for a company that fights to see that change… A reading nation is a winning nation…
On to more brighter things…

There is an extremely thin line between selling and flirting… They probably mean the same thing… Flirting is selling yourself right? I might be wrong…
This becomes tricky when it comes to my new JD… Which is selling…
The other day I was at this shop I have been trying to get our books into for ages… I was so close to giving up when things took a wild turn…
I hadn’t noticed I had crossed the line…

The manager at this retail store is an Indian woman… Lets call her Priya… So Priya is the rudest female I have ever met… Her sentences are short and drive daggers to the heart. She has chased me out of her shop twice… As in those ones for, “get out!”
I had to change how to approach this harridan!

“You look amazing in white” I said… I caught her complete attention! The shop went silent… I said it in a rather loud voice… But there are some things, even if whispered, cleaves through whatever noise… Like this one.

I could tell I caught her off guard… I couldn’t just bring up, “please stock our books” right after that… It had to be seamless… “Thenkyu… How can I help you today!” She answered. The staff at the shop were shocked. You could tell this woman had not been kind for a while.

“I can tell you how attractive you are for hours… Because you really are… No doubt!” I said… No matter how thin that line between selling and flirting is, it’s so clear when you have crossed it… And I had… It was now awkward… But I came here to make sure our books are at this shop, and I wasn’t folding! “You never give me time though..” I continue… Priya is slightly beyond her 30s… She is short and modern. Her jet midnight Indian hair natural, sleek, almost like the tail on a unicorns behind! She spends most of her days in anger… You can tell from the prominent folds on her forehead. Her hips are full… The rings at the back of her neck sky rockets her dowry price in Luo land… Her breath smells like nido milk powder…

“You accuse me falsely…” She says… Her cheeks are now crimson…
My brain was on overdrive trying to figure out how to cool this whole inferno down…
She helped out, “so you need your books on our shelves?” She asked…
“Yes… What can I do to have that?” I ask… A bit confused… But I was still on top of my game in case she lost focus…
After a short chat she says she will think about it… We exchange business cards… Mine still said, ‘design manager’
I get a text later that evening….

“I will stock your books but we cannot continue like this. I have a husband!”

I had felled two vampires with the same wooden stake… That’s just means killing two birds with the same stone in a fancier way.


Above is Macklemore, Ryan Lewis AND MY COUSIN OWUOR… Yes my cousin plays with Macklemore! #Braggadocio


Posted by on February 9, 2013 in comedy, random, women tales


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