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Masaku 7s Sex Video


Dear Doris,

I have to write this really quickly! I do not have much time.

You were in my dreams last night. It was so vivid I could smell you. In the dream you did not say a single word! You did not smile or laugh. You stood right at the centre of my living room in a pink dress and no shoes. The wind would blow into the house, vigorously sending the curtains off the railings. Your hair danced to the wind. You were looking straight into my eyes. You just stood there. But you were not there when I woke up in the morning. A coffee table stood erect where you stood in my dream. The windows were closed and the curtains intact.

If you seriously think this has anything to do with Masaku 7’s then I strongly advise you stop reading here and go back to work or back to whatever you were doing before! But you can read on, I promise is is a good story!

My story is set at Oil Libya Westlands. The date is July 1st 2014 and the time is 9:55pm.

I was at Oil Libya buying pizza. If you buy a pizza from Pizza Inn on Tuesdays, you get another one for free. And this is what I was gunning for. I was also there to buy muffins!

A picture I got online when I googled Masaku 7s

A picture I got online when I Googled Masaku 7s

I walk up to the counter that was not as crowded as I had expected. Two Arabs were ahead of me. Lovers! I knew because of how the Arab man was holding the Arab woman’s waist. The Arab woman was tiny. She was pretty. She would tilt her head backwards every now and then so it would lie on the Arab man’s chest. They would look each other in the eye and burst out into indecent giggles. If the lights would go off at that moment and everyone absent, they would have probably had sex right there on the floor! I was sick from the sight of them. This is because Nairobi temperatures as low as 12* and I was standing right there, freezing my tiny ass off knowing very well I was going home to a pair of cold sheets and two pairs of cold pillows and a duvet that was purposeless and no Arab woman to share body heat with and yet these two were here having sex in their minds! I was utterly jealous! Yes I said it! I wanted an Arab woman who could put her head on my chest also!

But that is not my story! After the short dark lady behind the counter told me to wait 8 minutes, I walked to the mini shop to get my muffins then I sat at a table where I could not see two Arabs. We were separated by two magazine racks. But I could still hear them laugh! It ripped me apart!

In the midst of all this pandemonium of emotions, a guard walks in holding a white board with a number plate written on it! Normally this happens when a car that needs to leave has been blocked by another car! I couldn’t remember blocking anyone so I was least bothered by the limping guard! The whole place had less than 10 people so when no one got up to go ‘unblock’ whoever, I suspected I was the one blocking! I am blind so I could not see the writings on the board. I walked up to the guard and saw my plate number. I got out and moved my car to a different spot then went back in to wait for my pizzas. Please stay with me because this story is about to hit the roof!

I walked to my car with my pizzas and muffins. Thing is I was at the spot I had packed before I moved the car. And the craziest coincidence is, the car that was parked there was exactly like my own. The make. The colour. The everything!

Without being bothered, I got me keys out and opened the door (PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT I STILL HAVEN’T REALIZED THAT THIS IS NOT MY CAR) I put the pizzas and muffins on the co drivers seat that looked darker than usual. I stuck my keys into the ignition and the car burst out into a soft roar!

Shit hit me when I tried changing gears. The car was an automatic! Mine is a manual! At that point, I think, I vomited a little in my mouth! Everything was spinning so fast like I was drunk!

Hanging on my rear view mirror are two orange tiny sandals. This particular car had a tiny perfumed bottle. I looked at the back seat just to confirm my horrors. My back seat has a brown trench coat, my laptop bag, a leather folder and a burgundy woolen scarf! The car I was in had nothing at all on the back seat!

I turned the car off and looked out my window, the Arab couple were standing there, looking at me, the woman holding two pizza boxes!

My car has really dark tinted windows and for a man with my eyesight, it is almost impossible to see outside… But I could see these two so clearly! Tint free windows!

I slowly got out of the car and shut the door behind me! My plan was to start by apologizing and point at my car! But I just stood there. I could not move a single muscle. Do you remember when you were in primary school and you were called into the head teacher’s office because you were hitting mangoes with stones? You know that temporary paralysis that is ignited by absolute fear? I was there rooted on the spot! Trying to figure out how my car keys opened another car (second time this has happened)!

“Are you a car thief?” The Arab man asked! The ringing in my head was so loud I did not hear what he said… I read his lips.

The guy was bigger than me. Way bigger than I was. With one shove, he sent me on the ground! I sat on the ground leaning on my car’s doppelgänger! The woman looked at me and sneered! The man got his phone out and said he was calling the cops to teach me a lesson! A small crowd had formed around me at this time. This was because the Arab man had called a taxi guy loudly saying he had caught a car thief.

I cannot remember what was going through my mind at that time! I am not even sure if anything went through my mind!

The Arab guy was on the phone speaking at the top of his voice, like his phone was a mile away! He spoke in ‘Arab’! But after every minute or so, he would say, ‘tumemshika!’ If I had anything at all in my bladder, I would have let it out at this point!

When my paralysis finally wore off, I tried to explain that my car was at the far end of the parking lot and looked exactly like this one!

“Si mara ya kwanza wameiba gari hapa!” The guard who had the board earlier said! The crowd was getting bigger and fast! I plan to die of old age in a ranch somewhere in Wales, owning 1000 sheep and 400 horses and a few luxury cars… Not at a petrol station by mob justice in Nairobi! But at that moment, dying at a petrol station in Nairobi was more realistic!

I give the Arab man my keys and point at my car and tell him to go try opening it!

My car does not have that, ‘chwi chwi’ alarm thing for opening cars. It is manual. You have to stick your key in and twist! And sometimes, i jams! And this time, the only time I needed it not to jam, it jammed! The Arab man comes back really mad!

“Haifungui! Wanichezea?!” He asks. I ask him to give it to me so I do it by myself! He throws the keys at me and I walk to the car. The whole crowd follows me!

The guy had tried to open the door so hard that he had bent my keys!

I put the key in… Then twisted.. Nothing!

My car is called Esmeralda, and sometimes when I talk to her, she listens. I took the keys out… Took a deep breath… Then in my head, “Behave Esmeralda!”

Like an obidient child… It listened…

“Ni master-key!” Someone from the crowd shouted!

“Tutajuaje ni gari yako?” Another person said! Niggaz were hungry for my blood!

I explained that my backseat had a trench coat, a burgundy scarf, a leather folder and a laptop bag. I told the Arab guy to take out my laptop and he would see my name when he opened it! I showed him my ID beforehand as proof that I am Ian Arunga!

The Arab guy got into my bag and threw things all over the place. My Apple magic mouse dropped on the cemented lot. MY APPLE MAGIC MOUSE!!!

The guy yanks out my laptop and opens it! ‘Ian Sketch’!

He throws the computer on my back seat like it was a free product.

“Ako sawa!” He says and walks to his car. I follow him!

“Pizza zangu!?” I order! He hands me my things and I walk back to my car! Everyone is looking at me funny! The whole place had come to a standstill.

On my way home, while listening to the ‘Ligi Soo Remix’ by Rabbit I had downloaded earlier in the day (which is extremely cool with multiple crazy punchlines) my grandfather calls and tells me my uncle Dr. Okoth from Karabondi is dead! I have no clue who Dr. Okoth is!

“The early bird catches the worm, I am way ahead, ukianza kuamka mi nimeanza ku-deworm!” Wangechi (Ligi Sooo Remix)

Happy Birthday Jennifer (@hiuko)

 

 

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Posted by on July 2, 2014 in near death, sex

 

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Nishike


My Lovely Doris,

It has been a long while while since I wrote last. I miss you dearly. My heart skips several beats at the thought of your beauty… The thought of your lips against mine… The thought of your skin on mine!

I have not had time to write to you lately! I have stories for you though. There is one about a matatu dropping me off near a grave yard it the dead of the night because I didn’t have change for 1000 bob and another one where I was in the same compound with Shebesh and Sonko and there were gunshots and 1000 women screaming and shouting… At that same compound a policeman with a gun asked me to switch off the music we were listening to because it was too loud! But that one is for another day!

This is a letter I received at the beginning of this year. Another woman who is convinced she is Doris. She will state a few things she claims we did together! Do not believe her!

black-woman-writing-letterDear Ian,

You’re weird! I like weird! I love weird! I would choose weird any day.

Life has never let me choose though. If it had I would not be writing to you with tears in my eyes afraid that you are forgetting about me. I would wake up next to your freakishly long legs every morning… and other long things I remember about you. I would still be playing with your bee sting nipples on Saturday mornings while you read me funny comments on askreddit. I would be falling asleep on your chest while we watch a movie every night. We would be sharing a smoke after ruining dinner because we were busy catching a quickie. I would be wearing nothing under your t-shirt while we watch Boondocks on Sunday morning. I would be with you….

Remember our last night together? You tried singing to me. God, you have the worst voice. That didn’t stop you though; I have always loved that about you. That was one of the many nights we chose to stay in together rather than be out getting drunk and dirty with our friends. My friends were starting to complain by the way. I wore that red t-shirt of yours, that one that you always hated me for wearing because you had wanted to wear it too? Yes, that one.  Oh and you should stop looking for it, I took it with me. Your laugh was louder that night, your kisses deeper and your touch more gentle. Something was different about us that night. It was like we were not afraid to be vulnerable anymore, like nothing but us mattered. I had never been so certain of my love for you like I was on that day. As days pass, I am more convinced that I will never feel any different for you.

I hate that I had to leave but I kept something that will always remind me of that night. I kept a star from that night that shines brighter every day. Her name is Gian. She is lovely!

Something bothers me, you are not writing to me as much as you used to. You are even letting other men write to me, I don’t hate the attention. Worse, you wrote to Adele! The latter arouses very many different shades of jealous in me. What is happening to your feelings for me? Surely you are not going to forget about me, are you? I would hate to not have your letters to hug tight at night when my husband sleeps over at his third wife’s house. We need to talk; our talk has been long overdue. I am afraid, however, that I might not go back to my husband’s house if I so much as get a two second hug from you…. Aaaah your hugs! Those used to feel so good.

Please find a good woman to take care of you. I hear you are becoming thinner and are beginning to look sickly. I wish I could cook for you again but… well, responsibilities. Every once in a while I will sneak away for a smoke in honor of what we used to be. I hope you found your monglinyo, sorry had to put that somewhere.

I have to go make dinner and practice my happy look for when he comes…if he comes.

I luv you!

Yours now and forever,

The Real Doris

 

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Romance…


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,

Ian

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.

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

 

Shiko & The Bedroom


Dear Doris,

I should not be writing to you at this time because I am stealing into my office hours. I am risking losing my job with every key I punch… My love for you is vast… Colossal… astronomical… boundless and capacious! Comprehensive, detailed and endless… Measureless… Not a single word that I have just googled can express these feelings Doris… Can’t you see?

I know what went through your mind immediately you read that title… Sex! Right? Which is not a sin… If you look at it critically, we owe this tiny segment of the house a lot. Considering you were probably made in one and you probably made your children in one or trying to ~ the cycle is vicious!!

Ok. I do not know what I wanted to achieve when I started this post like that!

The bedroom can be used for a number of things… A quiet and private place to rest… A place to sleep… A place to work and or work out… And most importantly… A place to coit! I am thinking if coitus is a noun, then coit must be its verb!

Moving on!

I have a theory on making babies who you want them to be before even you decide to start making them! I am straying from what I wanted to write about but this is important!

I highly believe in orientation: Setting the chill’s mind to a particular career… I am not making sense… Even I don’t understand what I am going on about!

For example… I believe that if you want your child to be a teacher… Try coiting on a teacher’s table!!! (I will be using coit & coiting  a lot so it is better you get used to is now).

If you want your child to grow up to be a chef… TRY THE KITCHEN COUNTER. Are you seeing where I am going with this? Probably not!! If you want a wrestler or weight lifter or just a pumped up kid… Try coiting in the gym… As in, give this baby a future right from the beginning!

If you want an astronaut, I suggest you try IT in a space ship, which explains extensively why there are such few astronauts in the world… Not all of us have access to NASA right?

If you want a surgeon, try an operating bed… I could go on and on!

So if your child is doing terribly at school or is just plain annoying as shit… Go back into time…. waaaayyyyy back…. was it in a toilet booth? That man you met at the club who sent your juices rushing so fast you could not wait to get home and decided to coit in the toilet?? I want you to think hard!

I don’t even want to start thinking how pathologists are made… And do you know why we have so many Business students graduating from our universities? Office romance! Coit in a prison cell and chances are you will be working your ass off to bail your child of prison for the rest of your life…

But that’s just my theory… It holds no water… But still, think about it!

Normally when I walk into my bedroom, the first thing I see is the full length mirror… The first thing I see is literally myself walking into the room… This normally triggers a tiny jester in my mind… I burst into dance…. Normally no the dance you are comfortable doing anywhere else… This is supposed to be a private room… So you do a dance that is never supposed to be seen.. EVER!

Most of the time I make my own beat… I then start shaking my body to my own beat…. If it gets deep into my head… I remove my shirt and throw it on the floor.. You know… like a stripper… I HAVE NO CLUE WHY I AM TELLING YOU ALL THIS BY THE WAY!

Then I remove my belt… and swing it violently round my head… Then I stop and change into my pjs… I don’t go too far because someone might be watching… I am extremely sure God is watching so I never want to embarrass myself! This was up until the other day… My normal routine… Take off the jacket… Then the shirt dancing vigorously forcing my eyes to see a six-pack that’s barely a pack!

Then I see something move outside the window…

My curtains were wide open… My house is directly opposite a few houses… You could read the book I am reading from across the court and here I was dirty dancing in front of a mirror being watched by hell knows who!!

So I quickly turn off my lights and draw the curtains, leaving a little space to spy on the spy!

I notice the shadow of a woman… I can tell its a woman because of the hair… It was either a woman or a man in a wig!

This person must have been watching me for years!

My heart was on my lips! I start going through the media files in my brain… How intense have I ever gotten… Did this person have recordings of me doing all this and would one day reveal them to the press one day when I become president??? SO MUCH TO PROCESS!!!

That was all the evidence I had. A female shadow or a man in a wig….. So basically I had nothing! It could have been anyone!

From that day on, I look at my neighbors straight in the eyes! Without blinking or looking away!! The first one who will burst out into laughter is the pervert who has been watching me dance…

Just before I leave… I had a whole post on how Kikuyus nickname themselves. I have sat and thought in length about whether to post it… I would look and sound extremely tribalistic which is not the case! So I have decided to shorten that post and add it on to this post. Having a whole post on Kikuyus will not look good… I am no tribalist and I keep on saying it… I apologize if anyone thinks so after this:

THE POST:

Before I go any further, I would like to make it clear that I am not a tribalist and whatever I am about to write should not be termed as tribalistic. I am a Luo man and I am about to write about a few things Kikuyus do… You know too well that these two communities are in constant quarrels… Worse yet, now that elections are coming up and Luos are calling Kikuyus names and Kikuyus calling Luos names ceteris paribus (spelt it right this time). I am not going to call Kikuyus names… I am going to call Kikuyu them names that they call themselves…

I am going to get into so much shit seeing how many Kikuyu women I know *cough* *hiccup*

I like padded yelo yelo women! In my part of the world, Kikuyu women have that covered! Please refer to this as many times as you can as you read this.

I have never understood the science behind how Kikuyus shorten their names!! You all get a new name all together! Like for example, Muthoni…. The normal way to shorten that would be Mutho, or Thoni or just Ni! Yes? How in the blazes does Muthoni become Soni??? I totally get the ‘ONI part of it but where did the ‘S’ come from??? This would totally put the dichotomous key in problems!

One of my biggest fans is called Soni and she will kill me!

I also have another friend called Wangari… In fact, she helped me with this post! So you Kikuyu who wants to yank my tongue out… Yank Wangari’s out first… She is the disloyal one!

Wangari becomes Kare… Surely!!! Again another letter from absolutely nowhere near the name itself… Totally ignoring that maybe it could be ‘Ngare’ or ‘Wanga’… Wait, I have a feeling ‘Wanga’ means something in Sheng’. No?

Wanjiku. I do not know any Wanjikus. If you are a Wanjiku and we know each other you should not worry, I will probably remember in the morning! So Wanjiku becomes Shiko! One of your ancestors adored the letter ‘S’! It is everywhere!!! If I was the one shortening this name, I would have put it as, ‘Njiko’ or ‘Wanji’ but the latter sounds like ‘Manji’ Which is not so bad considering your name will sound like a famous biscuit brand!

You are the only people in the world who will see Wanjiru as Shiro. Again with the ‘S’!

Wamboi becomes Foi and Gathoni Noni…

I don’t know any more names… I smell a witch hunt after this… So if you want to kill me, my weak spot is my left pinky toe. Shoot it with an arrow and I will die instantly!

 

 

 
11 Comments

Posted by on November 2, 2012 in big beautiful women, comedy, sex

 

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How To Cheat


(In case you missed this on crazynairobian.com)

My Lovely Doris,

I mean what I am about to say. I know distance weakens faith and trust… And love… Distance makes you do things… Lie, cheat, and lie some more… That, might have been how man was built! The moment we lose something, we quickly find a way of replacing it with something else – all because of the fear of emptiness loss comes with… Distance! I have not seen your beautiful face for almost 8 years now. Vast waters separate us… It kills me… The thought that you might be enjoying the distance crushes me… I forgive you for what you have done and are yet to do… Distance! A man resides in your house… Your neighbor updates me. I am not afraid. The thought of seeing you again sometime strengthens my faithfulness to you. There will be no other. No woman comes close to you in my heart.

What I am about to tell you is extremely important… Man lies! There are careers even fueled by how well one can lie… Look at lawyers, politicians, cobblers!

Don’t try making sense out of cobblers, I couldn’t come up with a third one so I wrote the first thing that came to my mind!

I lie a lot… and I suck at it… I am always busted.

To cheat, you need to be excellent at lying… I am going to teach you how to cheat… Exciting huh?? I love it!

Please be advised that I can’t stand this behavior and anyone caught doing it should be… well… Yeah!

I am going to teach you from true stories of my life… (I can hear teeth chatter)

I was no more than 10 years old! And I was going out with 3 of the sexiest women in my class. This is how to do it…

Let me create a scene…

I sat right at the front of my class… So close to my teacher I could smell the insides of her hand bag every time she unzipped it… It smelt like IT! You all remember IT??? This is not a joke… There was an insecticide called IT! But this story is not about my teachers hand bag… She once called my mother and told her I have refused to learn how to spell because she couldn’t convince me sugar was spelt as is and not SHUGA!!! I still strongly feel that it should be spelt my way… No man can convince me otherwise… But I am an educated man… Education is doing shit in a way someone else thinks it should be done! I gave up in trying to figure out silent letters and how lasanya becomes lasagne! I am losing plot!!! Back to cheating!

One of the women I was dating, Loise*, (not her real name, she might have grown up and become a lawyer!) sat right at the back right corner. She was not attractive… In fact, I didn’t find her beautiful at all. But she was brainy! I love intelligent women! Intelligence is like ‘no underwear’, its like half way there! She taught me how to divide numbers. You need women like that in your life… its not like homework will do itself… That was her duty… Homework. She finished hers and did mine in a different handwriting. I am not a bad person… So in return, I held her hand everyday as we walked home… This, ladies and gentlemen, is the hardest shit to do at the age of 9! But I was willing to do anything to clear school… I held her hand with pride! I finished school by the way!

Victoria* was pretty! As in extremely pretty! But no whiff of wit whatsoever! In fact, Victoria was her real name! Her job was PR. To make me look good. In class 3 looks get you further than grades…. Trust me, IT WILL NOT MATTER IF YOUR GIRLS CAN RECITE THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE BACKWARDS!!! If she is not fly…. It doesn’t fly! This pretty girl coming from a rich family would be a plus… I like rich beautiful girls… Keeping Victoria was a task though. Every Tom, Dick and Harry bought her stuff at break time. My income was limited. I had two companies that did not bring in enough money! MAMA LTD and BABA INC. I had to do better than Tom, Dick and the other one. This called for more money than I had. So I got a stupid friend. A boy I would lie to to give me all his break money! It is not easy tolerating a fool, but my Victoria had to be pampered!

Last but not least, Shyrose Shah. That is her real name. I dont give two squirts of piss using her real name on here! Her family hates black people anyways… AND SHE EATS MEAT!!! Yes Shyrose… I said it! You already know how hard it was for me to put up with this one! Her name went against my Luo normal ways of pronunciation! Sairose Sa! Thats how it would sometimes come out! Her duty was very important… She supplied humongous bags of flavored crisps and chevda! I sometimes used her to supply Victoria’s needs. And just to prove that ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his tummy’ I ended up with this one! Victoria repeated class 3 (was not good for PR) and Loise* wanted more than holding hands… By more I mean doing my own homework… I wasn’t taking that crap!

You must be asking yourself how I kept them from knowing about each other… Simple… Being caught never crossed my mind… My brain was too small to satisfy three women at the same time, figure out how to spell and multiply shit AND START GETTING WORRIED ABOUT GETTING CAUGHT!

So if you are cheating, and you are there thinking about getting caught… You will be caught! Oh yes you will!

That right there reminds me about a story, ‘The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives’ by Lola Shoneyin. Baba Segi has 4 wives! Iya Segi is his first wife who is loud and huge… She is the boss lady and runs Baba Segi’s house. You already know a fat loud woman as a first wife cannot be told! Iya Tope is the second wife. She was forced into the marriage by Baba Segi. She she has nothing much to say! Iya femis is the third wife. This ones heart burns with vengence… That statement will be clear in my next sentence! Bolanle is Baba Segis fourth and final wife. Iya Femi does not appreciate this and works her ass off to see it that Bolanle is out! She works hand in hand with Iya Segi to see this plot through! Bolanle is a threat because she is young and educated thus posing as a great threat to the other wives! Like I said, an educated woman HAS POWER!

Funniest bit of the story is all the wives have multiple kids except Bolanle, who has non at all… EVen funnier, Baba Segi is sterile… Very cool book… was nominated for the 2011 Orange Prize for Fiction and will appeal to readers who enjoy African literature.

You can come meet the author of ‘The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives’ Lola Shoneyin, MYSELF and other amazing local and international authors at The Storymoja Hay Festival which will be going down from 13th to 16th September 2012 at The Nairobi National Museum.

By now you already know how terrible my spelling and grammar is… I like doing things my way…

 
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Posted by on September 3, 2012 in comedy, love, my quotes, sex, women tales

 

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AMSTERDAM HAS A WEIRD MAN!


My lovely Doris,

I have made up my mind… I am no longer unsure about us moving in together as I was a few years back. I have a well paying job now and yet to get my own place. I beg of you to still be patient with me… We will share one roof very soon.

I am happy today, even though I have a really bad cough! I cant remember the last time I had a cough before this. I must have been four or six or any of those ages where I had to take Calpol…

The ride home was eventful… I fell asleep almost immediately I got on the matatu ( I get confused… Is it ‘get in the matatu’ or ‘get on the matatu’ or get into the matatu’? My English is not very good seeing that I used to teach my high school English teacher English! I Aced it either way) Where was I before that rude thought interrupted me?

Yes…. The matatu…

I am really tall… And I have a long neck (I come from a genealogy of models) I want you to try picture a man dozing off whilst seated on a bench… Can you see him? Yeah… Now alternate roles… Put me where that man is…. Then put a matatu seat under my buttocks… I am completely asleep… Now I want you to imagine the matatu speeding at a corner… I am thrown sideways. My head land on something really soft. Not the soft for a thick bosom… or padded thigh… A different soft… Like a furry carpet…or hay… I opened my eyes and made sense of my surrounding. I had hit the woman sitting next to me… Her head… On her head was a bushy weave… It was so bushy it broke my fall! She quickly fixed it without saying a word. That ladies and gentlemen is called CONFIDENCE…

I fell asleep again not long after!

thats me and my friend Denet

I think I was dreaming because I opened my eyes and with absolutely no reason at all, I shouted, ‘NASHUKA!’ I was at Chiromo Fly-over! That is like 15 bus stops before my house… The matatu stopped and I got off trying to figure out what just went down!

As I write this I am listening to a Skype conversation between a colleague of mine and a white man… It is completely awkward. He doesn’t know I am in the office. It is Saturday, and I am never in the office on Saturdays because its Sabbath, but there was an emergency today – same freakin’ emergency that saw me working till 11.30 last night! But that is not my tale… I have always wanted to use that word… TALE! hehe! I am happy!

I knew there was something fishy immediately i heard an English accent from the other side…

(WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE SHOUT WHEN ON SKYPE!?)

“Hello Justin*” The deep white voice… (Justin is not his real name… I am protecting his identity)

“Are you at the office” The deep voice continues.

Justin* is excited. You can tell from his ‘jumpy’ voice. “Hiiiiii… How are you? Yes I am at the office!” Justin* replies! I am in a different room so I cant see his body movements, but if I were to guess, he would almost be clapping with excitement!

“Why are you in the office on a Saturday?” The white deep voice thats getting deeper… Or its the excitement building up in my soul… I was sensing a scandal… and I AM NEVER WRONG!

“Ahhh.. I just came to do a few things….” he answers trying to look cool…

“Are you alone?” The deep voice cuts in mid sentence…

“Yeah…  am so bored here… I wish you could just take the next jet here!” Justin* says with a naughty giggle!

I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW THAT I HAD TO GET OFF MY SEAT AND PACE IN MY TINY OFFICE… I dont think I was ready to listen to the rest of this conversation… “hahaha!” the white voice lets out a JOLLY laugh! “I want that too!” He says…

{something tells me I might get into trouble writing this story but what the hell}

“Just for a weekend…” Justin says, sounding convincing.

This is what men tell women they want to sleep with. I mean, you coming for a weekend for what… Pizza?! Or a visit to Uhuru park… I was smelling an ignominy! I remove my shoes and tip toe to Justin’s office door… YES I AM A REPORTER AT HEART… IF I WANT A STORY, I WILL GET IT!

Justin* must have heard me because he stopped talking and looked towards my direction… I had to tip toe to a safe location… My office! I was just in time to hung up on someone…. My phone lights up for about 3  seconds before it bursts into melody when a call comes in! I was in time to hung up at the light 😀 I had to get my story!

I missed a chunk of the conversation as all this was going on… The white voice was now singing! I was dying of laughter inside… There had to be an explanation! Why was this man singing to this other one… He goes on for about two minutes…. Justin* is clapping saying, “ohhhh wowwww…. You sing so well!” At this point I was extremely confused… I knew enough information to be assassinated!  hats not the end of it…. Justin also broke out in song… I was dying! The man could sing… But his audience was scandalous! The white voice knew the song and they sing together… For the next three minutes that felt like 6 hours… The sung away…!

Then the all clapped!

“How much is a return flight to Amsterdam” Justin asks.

“About 900 dollars…” The white voice who now has a location! Only a few more minutes and these two would me on auto pilot!

“Thats about 75,000 Shillings! That is a lot…” Justin says…

“Do not worry, tell me when you want to come and I will pay for you…” The white deep voice says like it was nothing!

“WOW!” Justin says (WHAT IS THIS WOW THING!!!! ITS ANNOYING)

I didnt see my phone light up… It rung so loudly i jumped!

“What was that?!” the white deep voice asked…

“Let me check…” Justin said and that was the end of the conversation… Theres something I still cant put a finger on…. When justin got to my office, he was smiling mischievously… THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT TO GO DOWN THAT MY PHONE MESSED UP…. I am suing Blackberry!

I have to stop here because I have to start on a different post about  this all white party my people and I chattered a plane  to go to last weekend…

For Nguhi

 
18 Comments

Posted by on June 9, 2012 in comedy, matatu tales, sex

 

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MEN MULTI TASK IF ASKED OF THEM… OR IF ALLOWED!


Dear Doris,

I do love nothing in the world so well as you! I know my love, that life has never been easy for the two of us… I still don’t understand why it’s so hard for us yet we love each other so much… Sometimes I can even hear the hate for me in your voice… But I ignore it, because I know love conquers all. I know its in loving someone like you that one can truly feel life is really worth it. You are worth every second and breath of me. I pray we spend the rest of our lives together… In love, in hate, in doubt… If we are to disagree during the day… I want to be the one to hold you during the night… I want to be there when you laugh… I want to be the one who has no idea what to do when you cry… I want to be there for you… SO please stop being cruel already!

FULL STOP.

I have noticed with great concern that all my recent letters are about matatus or something related to the topic… I am sorry if it is getting monotonous! But put yourself in my position… It’s always raining… I spend my day at the office and my nights, like normal human beings, in bed! I only have a small crack in between the two variables… When the rain stops maybe I will write you a letter about… about… mm… I have no clue whatsoever!

This is yet another one about a matatu!! Or rather, what went down in the matatu…

BUILDING SCENE AND PLOT:

Nairobi is a wet mess… [no matter how you read that it will end up in sex] Its raining most of the day and raining hard [another one of those sentences that you have to be careful on which word you stress]

Lets swiftly move on…

This is the perfect weather for making babies… or just the perfect weather for trying to make babies without actually wanting to have a baby… I would like to term it as the excellent  conditions for occupying vagistan! This weather makes you  do things… And it’s completely understandable… No one wants to be alone at this time of year… It is just depressing!

You must be asking yourself how this will relate to a matatu… The shocking thing is that it does… In ways you would not imagine!

I am on a matatu from town to Kileleshwa…. I fought so hard to get onto it in the rain. My trench coat is dripping wet. I got the best seat… The co-driver’s seat [refer to my ‘Where to Sit’ post.]  Between me and the driver is a woman… Evidently in her 30’s. Her face had started showing the QUESTION ‘what have I done with my life?’ You know that face? All 35+year olds in a matatu ask themselves the same thing… I can’t explain it better than that.

She is wearing a blue dress made out of t-shirt material! I don’t know if you know those dresses women wear. Its revealing but you still can’t see sh*t! It’s easily flows to her ankles! She has been rained on so you can see her underwear! It was so clear you could see the tiny white bow between her Double C cups! It was clear she had no kids… The two niggers pointed straight at the windshield! I couldn’t stop looking!

She was pretty and extremely above what she is about to do…

She took a book out her bag and flipped to the page with the book mark. She is reading Gracefully Insane by Alex Beam! An excellent book! So she is literate! She is reading quite fast considering it was already dark [unless she was just looking blankly at the pages!] She reads faster than me… And I read fast!

The traffic is tight and I am falling asleep… I am always asleep if I am not reading people’s texts!

It worries me that this post is getting long before I get into the main story! :/

I was woken up by a faint moan… I was certain it was not from my dream… It was too INSIDE THE MATATU!

I look at the woman seated next to me. She is not reading the book anymore! If anything, she has completely lost interest in it! I could tell because her book mark was on the floor and the book was placed carelessly on the dashboard! SHe had her mind completely on something else…

Her dress that’s long to the ankle is now  suspended dangerously above her knees! Its like she was scratching her thighs… Which is pretty close to what was going on!

LISTEN CLOSELY!

Her hand bag, a huge brown leather handbag, was on her lap. Her left leg was weirdly placed; it was actually on the driver’s space!

I had not noticed the driver was driving with one hand… Ok, maybe I had, but it had not hit me where his other hand was! It all made sense when a trailer swerved past us so dangerously close that the driver had to use both hands…

From under her dress… tossing the handbag leaving me with my answers…

The funny part was the moan the woman let out when the man removed his hand from under her dress… She had to let it out but didn’t want it to come out… Sounded like Donald Duck!

We got off at the same place… She walked slowly, stopping completely a few times! I was walking pretty slow myself just to make her uncomfortable…

Like the saying goes, “Ever since dying came into fashion, life hasn’t been safe.”

Note: I like that some of you are still waiting for me to say exactly what was happening 😀

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15 Comments

Posted by on May 4, 2012 in comedy, matatu tales, random, sex, women tales

 

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