Category Archives: women tales


My Doris,

My beautiful Doris, I love you without knowing how I am doing it! I find myself loving you with every myogenic muscle of my heart… I do not know when I am loving you… I have no clue how not loving you feels… I do not fathom how these floods of emotions get to me! Honestly speaking… From the bottom of my heart… I have no clue how not to love you… Come to me and let me smother you with love!

I write to you because I have missed you… With every word I write I imagine the reaction engulfing your face with every word you read… I want you to get more and more excited with every single paragraph… To get excited to the point where you have to stop and catch your breath at some point… But a part of me tells me you didn’t even tear open the envelope!

I was thinking about what to write about this morning… And like most times, I had nothing! Until I remembered BOOTLEGGERS!

Bootleggers is a club in Kisumu. Can you already feel the adrenaline? Ok, maybe not! After driving around Kisumu one Thursday night we decided to try out Bootleggers before we completely gave up on the dead Thursday night scene Kisumu offers! It is quite evident ‘Bendover Thursdays’ didn’t spill out of Nairobi and to the shores of Nam Lolwe…

On that particular night, Kisumu was completely asleep… Except for the random guy riding his bicycle in the dead of the night carrying a large woman who had her hands round him like he had jut promised her the world… I know the woman was very close to the man. Ignoring completely the way she dangerously embraced the man, her left cheek was errorlessly laid upon the rider’s back! Like she was asleep… She finally gets to lay her head on her lover after a long day at the Oile Market! The mud guard of the bicycle written poetically, ‘Mapenzi bila jaso’ The perfect love story.

We get to Bootleggers and it felt like it was on a different time zone! The place was pregnant with human beings uncontrollably pouring out of the tiny entrance… Young slender girls wearing tiny white shorts and knee-high boots and cowboy hats had tequila bottles in holsters around their waists. I see these ones everywhere! Whose idea was this?

We get in and the place was wild…

Let me explain, Nairobi women dance… But Kisumu women GET DOWN!!! And it is alllll of them! It was like walking into a shoal of dancers! A few steps into the club and there, right there, on the floor, was a woman dancing on her hands, being wheelbarrowed by a dreadlocked man in red Timberland boots… Not too far from her was another woman atop the shoulders of another man… I am just trying to say that the place was a zoo…

The DJ was a wide Luo man definitely of Jamaican decent or wished so hard to be… He uttered meaningless words that got the crowd soooo pumped up! He would go like, “Anadi quagmaya, an di dimpling… And di boombooclat rasta… PWOOO PWOOO!” And the crowd would go like, “PWWWOO PWWOOO!”

All of us get a table right in the middle of all the conundrum. Every now and then an ass would hit my head… I wouldn’t complain though!

Totally out of topic: There is a breed of women in wielding big buttocks called ‘Socialites’. If whoever knighted them would by any chance travel to Nyanza, a huge ass percentage would automatically be knighted as such… See what I did there? huge ass percentage? Oh forget it!

Back to my tale!

I notice two women seated at the bar… One large and the other almost half her size. They were extremely conspicuous! Everyone was vigorously dancing, a calm should would stand out like the devil in a cloud of angels!

Let me explain my dilemma… I like big women but the small woman was wayyyy prettier! I am blind, so before I make a move I decide to take a wing-man with me.

We walk to the women and my wingman quickly picks the big girl, which I had no problem with… Let me explain why!

The big girl was ‘big’ which gave her like 44%. But that was it. She wore an avocado green blouse… I hate everything to do with avocados! She was wearing those denim pants with rips across the thighs. And because she was really big, she poured out of them. It didn’t look nice… I like neat and rips do not excite me! Then she could not shut the hell up… For a human being who speaks from the top of her lungs, it was the last trait I expected. Imagine a woman who talks REALLLY LOUD… NON STOP! Then last but definitely not least, she had a mole under her chin that could set off a metal detector!

The tiny one on the other hand was quiet… She wore a white vest and an Ankara pencil skirt… At least some art in her! She covered her shoulders with her black jacket… She hadn’t worn the jacket… She just placed it on her shoulders… So divine! She had her arms crossed which is a terrible sign…

I get her talking. In half an hour, I learn she is a farmer (WHICH WAS TOTAL BOLLOCKS BECAUSE HER EQUITY BANK NAME TAG WAS STILL ROUND HER EFIN NECK) But then again she might have been… She farms strawberries…. (TOTAL EFIN BOLLOCKS) or maybe she did! She is drinking white wine. Drinking white wine like it is Dextrosalt! She had 3 glasses in half an hour… Good thing is I got here laughing! Marilyn Monroe says, “If you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything!”, so I go for the total clown… The harder she laughs the closer I am yes?

Maybe this is how the Strawberry Farmer saw me in there!

Maybe this is how the Strawberry Farmer saw me in there!

Wait! Did I mention I had chicken tikka for dinner on that day? And I am totally lactose intolerant? And chicken tikka has like loads of yoghurt? Well, if not then this here is the twist!

My tummy at this moment is rumbling out of control and it was getting hard to differentiate the need to pee and the dire need to shit! That is when you know shits hitting the fan!

I excuse myself… I am in the toilet… I have my projectile pointed at the urinal but I am scared to piss… Because I feel things move inside me withe the slightest release of my bladdular muscles! Taking a piss was risking way too much… So I decide to do it… Take a shit in the club… NEVER TAKE A SHIT IN THE CLUB!!!

I take like 5 minutes immaculately layering tissue paper on the toilet seat because no one knows what diseases lurk on that clay… You might catch a cold… Or worse, a cough!

I am seated doing my thing… Going through Instagram on my phone… My small bro comes to check on me because I told him I had a bad tummy…

Then guess what…

Wait: Did I mention the toilet doesn’t have a lock!? If not then here is a twist…

The door flung open almost sending it off its hinges and there stood The Strawberry Farmer! Looking straight into my innocent eyes… She stood there for a second, which is a second too long for this particular situation… And she got in right in the middle of a good push… My life, as I knew it then, was finished!

The farmer does not even apologise!

I stay food a bit longer… My almost full Heineken is erect next to her glass of wine… I was torn between getting that one and buying a new one…

Life as we know it, is really short… People have to take risks… So I go and take my beer… The farmer wouldn’t even look at me… Like instead of shitting, she coughs strawberries…

I think I really shocked her… But then again, what was she doing in the men’s? Oh shit… Was she a man?

I am sorry about the title. How else would I have gotten your attention?!

P.S: Have you voted for Dear Doris for Blog Awards Kenya today? Dear Doris was nominated for Best Creative Blog & Best Blog of the Year 2014. Please vote for me us here:


Posted by on March 27, 2014 in near death, women tales


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My Lovely Doris,

Woman, so experts say I have to write to you more often to stand a chance winning this thing at all… Tricky bit is, I have to be riddled with misfortunes to make this happen… I never have flowery stories that are full of love, cars and money and chapati to write…

How are you my love? A little birdy told me you are having pains on our thigh… I hope you are alright now. Why are you having pains on your thigh? Is it another man my love… Do your thighs hurt from the… You know what, forget it… I do not have much to say today, but I will say it either way!

As I write this, two of my colleagues are arguing about man visiting Mars… It is funny!

Because nothing dramatic has happened to me since my last letter, I will have to dig something from the past… And what greater period exists than Barding? If you have been reading this blog you definitely know Barding… This is the high school I went to… A forest and a great hill away from Kogelo… That is far… No water or electricity with bedbugs the size of a medium sized Dell mouse! Ok I am lying about the size of the bedbugs, they might have been a bit bigger! This letter is not about the school though, you can read more under the Barding Tales category.

I think I was in form three and we had just gone for an outing… In the middle of Luo land we called them outings… Not funkees… Did I even spell that right?! An outing was exactly what the name depicts, a day out of the penitentiary! We didn’t have a bus, so the school hired a van… This made more that 20 people leave the school at the same time a bit tricky… The school could afford only one van at a time… UNLESS the team being sent out was extremely promising…

Where was I? Yes, outing!

We had gone to Ng’iya girls, which was absolute heaven really… The smartest girls in the district! Smart and pretty… Naive teenage girls running all over the place in blue skirts and white shirts. Giggling like piglets… Some donning magnificent red sweaters… Whats that bird that shows off its red chest when ready for mating? Yes…

We had gone for a basketball tournament! Not with the girls… With boy schools from the region… Our school was not the best basketball team in the area though… I think we lost every game we played that day! In fact I am sute we lost every game we played! This is not the best for one’s PR, considering one had to mingle after the games… Failure is never good for PR! If you add the fact that back at school, water is scarce and might have skived bathing… Well, you can tell where that is going!


The games are done… I change into uniform (green trousers, blue shirt, green tie, green sweater and black shoes) I think I looked way better in this that lime green basketball jersey with brilliant red stripes on the side!

In my smart casual wear, I scan the grounds for potential candidates… I am looking for light skin (shows dirt easy), big bones (they have big hearts), long hair, short nails, probably holding a book (plus points if it is Abott Physics), donning a wrist watch (a woman who takes her time very seriously), and in sandals (Bata slippers – i like feet. Plus point if they are red to match her sweater! Blue skirt and blue Bata slippers is just too much blue!)

This was taken on the exact day this happened... Can you see Ng'iya girls in blue skirts at the back? Can you see me seated... Stressed? Then can you see the girl on the top right? Soooo funny!

This was taken on the exact day this happened… Can you see Ng’iya girls in blue skirts at the back? Can you see me seated… Stressed? Then can you see the girl on the top right? Soooo funny!

It is near impossible to find all these in a woman… I mean girl… So I end up going for the one with most checked boxes!

She is easily the lightest girl in the school, tall and pretty. She was a Mwarabu… She was intelligent… How did I know you ask… Well, like I have said before, there is something intelligence does to a face… It can’t be explained but THERE IS SOMETHING! Her Mwarabu hair was long and lustrous, dark brown and played on her back in brilliant curls. She was not big boned though… But who cares?! Her arms were tiny and her body matched. She had a wrist watch and held a novel… Can’t remember the title… She was the candidate! Her toes sat prettily in Bata slippers… SHE WAS DEFINITELY THE POTENTIAL CANDIDATE…

The hour was late and we were almost being called to get into the van back to Barding so your game had to be short and calculated… She had a wrist watch so she should was able to understand how critical time was… Here is how to be short and precise… You have to be extremely disciplined. You have to make her have you on her mind as often as possible… ONE: Introduce yourself (My english has always been impeccable so this part was a walk in the park). TWO: Compliment (Tell her how extremely pretty you think she is… Look into her eyes… Women tend to think you are being honest when you look into their eyes (-: ). THREE: Fast Forward conversation (Tell her how you would have loved to stay and chat for longer… Tell her next time you will make more time… Then pray y’all are called back to the van) If not, FOUR: Make her laugh! When you get to school, write!

I walk up to her and introduce myself, “Ian is my name, what’s yours?” My heart is pounding so hard at this point I am almost swallowing my lungs!

“I know! Khadija!” She says. This is a thorough set back because I have to ask her how she knows, which IS NOT IN MY PLAN!!! *Khadija might or might not be her real name by the way*

“You do? How now? I will totally understand if it’s from all the fame we have gained from losing all our games today?” I say… The next sentence already cooking in my head… She giggles… SHE GIGGLES! Khadija is giggling… I do multiple somersaults in my head… complete with a split!

At this moment, I can see Barding boys running towards the van… Which was good for business…

“You are famous…” she started but she never got to finish her statement… Something made her stop talking… Her Mwarabu big eyes reduced to judging slits!

I notice her eyes dart to my collar then back to my eyes… It was so fast I almost missed it… You know when you are talking to someone and there’s something wrong with a part of their face and your eyes keep darting to that part… EXACTLY! Then she did it again… I caught her line of vision this time…

TO MY FUCKIN’ HORROR! I caught sight of a very courageous bedbug stroll out of the fold of my collar… I tried flicking the thing and missed… Now, bedbugs are very fast even faster when their lives are in danger… The thing scampered with unbelievable speed and got into my shirt through a button hole…

If you are waiting to hear what happened with Khadija then you have no idea how big a bedbug is… I lost myself going for that insect that I didn’t notice Khadija walk away! Fast…

Now, that darn bedbug set me back a few quantums back but I got Khadija… Took like a year!

Have you voted for Dear Doris? Well ton on now... Click on the image to take you to the voting site.

Have you voted for Dear Doris? Well ton on now… Click on the image to take you to the voting site.



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Dear Adele,

This blog was meant for letters to my one and only love Doris. Do not get this wrong. You are being addressed on stolen time… aren’t those always the best?

This might bring a few issues between Doris and myself. I have thought about this move long and hard… I am doing it.

Before I started I googled ‘how to start a love letter’ and out of the 12 pages I looked through, not a single one really brought out what I wanted to say… all of them started with pet names… sweetheart and honey… and my love… and my beautiful… to me you are neither… I would rather address you as ‘my soon to be’… ok I am being a bit psychopathic… Dear Adele did it just fine.

I am sure you haven’t been reading my letters to Doris so you have no idea why I am writing to you… let me brig you up to speed… Walk to the nearest reflecting surface and look at yourself…

You have probably noticed that you are plus sized… this tiny fact (the word play is not intentional) is big… I am completely weak for big women… If I had the kind of money you have… and you had the kind of money I had (which is above average in Kenya)… I would have asked you to marry me… this makes no sense…

Still at that reflective surface? If so, you have probably noticed the hue of your skin… it is more light than dark… yes? Obvious… I love yelo yelo women… you are white… oh my knees tremble… You probably smell like white people… I like how clean white people smell… they smell like shampoo… and lotion… and candles… and soap… and eucalyptus… and jojoba.


This made me laugh a bit…

Your songs are sad… An intern at my office told me yesterday that your ex boyfriend left you for a man… is this why your songs are so sad? You need someone to love you good… a tall black man… who just shaved off his signature beard. By the way I just shaved off my signature beard. The barber did it by mistake… so o refused to pay him…

I love big, intelligent, yelo yelo women with tiny feet… I don’t know about your shoe size but your voice can be substituted with the feet… I like your voice…

Its 1.30am as I write this… I can’t even think straight… and I am doing this on my phone… this is a bit hard because my eyesight is shit… sorry for cussing. So you are aware how serious this is.

I am sorry but I don’t think the lyrics to ‘set fire to the rain’ make sense… the chorus totally loses me… ‘I set fire to the rain… watch it burn… then I touch your face…’ Come on Adele… But worry not… when we ate together we will go through a few songs I have been writing which I think are amazing…

I heard that you found someone and you are married now… (jinx). You have a kid now? This being with you thing is getting slimmer by the paragraph…

I do not want your money though… I have enough of my own… at least till December… then, if we are together that is, we can work some sort of deal out… yes? So us will not be about money… yes? I don’t have much in tangible materials … but in my heart, I have everything!

What beauty!

What beauty!

I am tired and I have an early morning… plus I have to watch Groods before I sleep… so my darling… allow me to pen off… pen off is so high school…

I will write to you again someday… hopefully before December.

I can love you.


For @lydzayar its people like you who make me keep writing.


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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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My Lovely Woman,

As I type this my mother is shouting my name to go down stairs for devotion… This is not normal because it is 9:30pm… You know too well this is a dawn affair! I am going to go down stairs and find out what is going on… Do not go anywhere…

Just came back up after like an hour.. Nothing serious! Asante Mungu!

Moving right along!

I am running out of things to write to you about! I have been staring at the blinking cursor for almost 10 minutes now! My days were full of drama… Intense drama… At some point in my life I was almost killed by a mob in the middle of town… At another point my brother and I towed a scooter half-way across town… At another point I was running away from the City Council askaris… I have since figured why this is so… I bought a car! All the drama was in the matatus cetaris pharibas. I am sure I spelt that wrong! Its not even supposed to be there!

Please be advised that I am going to milk that point until there is absolutely nothing left… That is me buying a car! I love the way that statement plays on my tongue… That one and, ‘when I was working in the UK’

I still pull that one one and a half years later! EVERYONE who asks me where I have been gets the line smack on their faces! I make it sound like I have just come from the airport… The other day I met one of my childhood friends at the Westlands Oil Libya mini mart! She was buying cigarettes! I was buying gum… The traffic was insane and I was tired of balancing pedals…

“Hi Patricia*” I said with absolute uncertainty because the ass she wielded was not the ass she had  15 years ago… And her mammary glands were, well, mammary glands! These were completely new!

“Ian?” she responded and quickly put her cigarettes in her hand bag like she was hiding them… Clearly forgetting we were not 10 anymore! I smiled!

“Yup!” I answer!

I was wearing my best shirt and shoes so I was sure I was on top of my game!

“Happy new year!” I continue! My father says that a lot so it comes to my head naturally!

She laughs

“You are still funny!” She makes a pass at me…

15 years ago she would’nt have looked at me once let alone make a pass at me… I was the tall skinny kid with shorts that barely covered my thighs while she was that rich spoilt child whose dad and mum lived in Nairobi… We were in Kisumu, so Nairobi was a big deal! Yeah… I said it!

“haha!” I laugh with absolutely nothing to tell this woman!

“So where have you been all this while?” She asks… She woke up the monster! I have this conversation all planned out!!! AL PLANNED FUCKIN’ OUT!

“Nowhere interesting! Been working in the UK. Just came back! Where have you been?” I answer like I was there from 1997! Be advised that I was there for less than 2 months!

Did you notice what I did with my answer? I answered and bounced the question back to her like ‘been working in the UK’ was not that big! HAHAHAHA!

“Wow! What do you do?” She asks… Here is where I was sure I had her by the balls… I am this middle aged, attractive young man who is doing well… Trust me… That is evident from my shirt!

To her question, ‘what do you do?’ I normally answer, “I am a graphic designer!” But when I notice the awe in your eyes by how well you think I am doing… I go like, “I am an artist!” hahahahah! Which I am! I just looking like I earn loads of money from not doing much… I do not by the way… So wipe that look off your face!

‘Ongoro’ – Here I showered for four years straight… I am not in the picture so stop trying to find me!

We are now walking out of the mini mart… Talking about the past! She is walking towards the bus stop and I have to stop her…

“I am parked the other side!” BAZINGA! The little things that excite me…

“Oh, ok!” She answers…

“Where are you headed? Maybe I can…” I start… She doesnt let me finish…

“Town!” She says… “You?” She asks…

“Kileleshwa!” I answer like I own a house in that area…

“You live in Kile?” She asks.

“Yup”, I answer! Intentionally forgetting to mention that I live in my parents house…

We part ways… I leave this woman with such skewed information… I feel bad inside for a little bit… Then it hits me I did not tell a single lie… I put on my aviators and speed off… IN MY CAR!


Posted by on October 18, 2012 in barding tales, comedy, women tales


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My Enchantment,

I apologize for I have been quiet for so long… I know I have failed as a man. But do not be too quick to judge me…I was caught up in so much organizing for the Storymoja Hay Festival… It came out great. It burns me inside that you did not attend… But it is fine my love… It is well! You have never liked books…

I dont know if I have told you this before, but my sister Aba and I sold our first coloured tv for 10 shillings! Ok the idea was mine. I was five and had just discovered that paper money is stronger than metal money! Paper money got you a bag of crisps and chilli with lemon squeezed in it… Ladies and gentlemen, it tasted like heaven! I know you have saliva jetting out of your glands right now!!

I was a hustla, and could not throw away a magnificent chance of getting some paper!

My father had promised us he would get us a VCR the same week he got us the tv… We were going to be the first family with a VCR in my estate… That was excellent for PR and to get girls come over… Do not look at me like that, I was five, not two!!

My father then went to work in Nairobi… The VCR story that week was slowly turning to fiction… I could not take it…

That is when the same man who delivered the tv showed up at our door round about 10 am with a huge traveling bag written, Worldcup USA 1994! He had on a brown leather jacket with the American eagle embroidered on the back with stone washed jeans… I can’t remember his shoes!! But HE had white socks… I should have suspected something… His fashion sense was shit!

He said, and I quote, “Baba ntie?” (Is your father home?)

“A..A” (No)  I answer as the older candidate!

“To mama?” (And your mother?) He inquires!

“Odhi tich Mosqo” (She has gone to work in Mosqo) I answer!

Mosqo (Read mosque) was a hood nearby…. Like a 20 minute walk!

“Be unyalo dhi luonge ni akelo video!?” (Can you go tell her I have brought the vcr?)

“E” (Yes) I answer in utmost excitement! Be advised, I was 5 and my sister 4… We had to cross a few major highways to get to my mum’s office… But anything for the VCR!

“Ende e siling apar unyeu go gimoro!” (Here is ten shillings! Buy something) he says in a smile! His plan had just gone straight through…

I took the ten shillings and grabbed my sister’s hand and set out… Destination Mosqo!

Image from google images.

All that was going through my head at this time was the crisps with lemon and chilli… At that time in history, crisps was prepared by the road side in humongous karayas! Then they would be dried and packed in open plastic bags… You would then squeeze your lemon and sprinkle your chilli! It, like I said earlier on this letter, was heaven!

The crisps were sold in 5 bobs… So there was the smallest pack that was 5 shillings… then 10 shillings… the 15 and so on!!

Funny coincidence was, the best crisps vendor in town was set on the way to my mums office… This, I believe, is what helped the tv thief make his escape!!

We got to the crisps place and bought two bags of crisps! The vendor didn’t understand where two kids had gotten all that money from… We sat next to the crisps vendor and ate our crisps… This, was more important than the vcr…

I finished my bag of crisps and asked my sister to share hers… She refused obviously… I would have done the same! She carried hers and said she would keep it until we got home!!

PLEASE NOTE: My sister did not trust the VCR man and suggested she should stay behind just in case… This was pure bullshit! That is what I thought! There was no way in hell I was going to walk al that distance alone!

“Utimo an’go ka? Uwe ng’a ot??” (What are you doing here. Who have you left in the house?” My mother asked in utter shock when she saw us!!

“Ng’amanokelo tv cha! Okello video!” (The man who brought the tv! He has brought the vcr) I answer with pride!

I have no clue what happened the next five or ten minutes but we were home… The tv gone… My mother was furious!!!

We were all over the estae looking for the strange man… All we had for clues was the brown leather jacket and the Worldcup USA bag! People had seen him… We did not find him!!! That was the last coloured tv we ever owned! I mean my last sentence…

I had to tell my sister never to mention at any point of our lives about the 10 shillings… She has been true to date!

A Greatwall black and white tv did not bring a lot of girls home… All of them congregated at my neighbour Alex’s house… They didnt have a coloured tv; they had this huge wooden black and white tv called Thorn! Girls like big machines!

Reminds me of a Greatwall tv joke: Whats black and white a red all over? hahaha!

ps – I bought a car! The matatu category will be a ghost town for a while… But I will take a matatu every once in a while just for you all.

This one is for  Martha. You beautiful woman.


Posted by on September 18, 2012 in comedy, women tales


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