Tag Archives: Dear Doris


Dear Doris,

I had praised you yesterday!

I went to Barding Secondary School. I am certain you are wondering where this school is (that is if you are new here). Well, Barding (pronounced BaRRding) is in the soul of Siaya District. About 10 kilometres off the main road. That might be a SLIGHT exaggeration but it sure felt like 10 kilometres!

If you are at the soul of a rural setting, there are a few things that are just impossible to get. One of those things is electricity! Another one is yelo yelo women, but that will not be our focus today! It would take several hundred electric poles to take electricity to these places, so the villagers who can afford it get generators and solar panels, some get pressure lamps, the rest just go accapella*, when darkness sets in, it’s a wrap!

©Barding Lamp Lighters of 2003!

© Barding Lamp Lighters of 2003!

You have probably deduced that we did not have electricity in Barding! We used pressure lamps! We had prefects called ‘lamp lighters’ in every class. These niggas were gods! They ate before everyone else and didn’t carry seats to church every Sunday morning (Form 1s & 2s had to carry seats from school to church every Sunday morning. The church was a stone’s throw short of a kilometre) A lamp lighter made sure his class was lit every dawn and night preps. He was familiar with all the pressure lamps in the school and had to be quick in choosing the best lamp for his class. A lazy one always got a dim beat up lamp and everyone would end up falling asleep, because no one could study in that light!

BUT this story is not about electricity! It is about clean water! We did not have enough of this as well! With only one borehole to serve a population of 500, it was near impossible to get clean water. NEAR F*CKIN IMPOSSIBLE! People fought at the borehole. People made friends at the borehole (it is easier to fight for water when you are two guys). Some people made money at the borehole (I paid people to fight for my water. You would get a cup of water for 5 bob or 10 bob). My nails are not built for fighting at the borehole!

To make life easier, students would wake up at wicked hours of the night to get water from the borehole when the rest of the village was asleep. 3am… 2am! If you were lucky, you would get  20 litres of water (in a jerry can) or a basin full of water! Whatever you collected was extremely valuable (liquid gold) and I will explain why in a bit!

This is a map showing  Barding and its environs. See how far we had to go to take a bath? Click on this picture to see how far the main road was from the school. (It is the dirt road up till Karemo Stage)

This is a map showing Barding and its environs. See how far we had to go to take a bath?
Click on this picture to see how far the main road was from the school. (It is the dirt road up till Karemo Stage)

98% of the school could not wake up in the dead of the night to get water. So, to bath, they (we), had to RUN for 5 kilometres to an abandoned gold mine (which was used by every living organism in that village. Bathing in the same water catchment as a shitting cow was extremely normal) that had collected water over the years. AND I AM NOT EVEN LYING! We had to RUN because we had like 45 minutes to go to this gold mine, bath and make it back to school before 6pm (if you were late you would be locked out of the school until after dinner)! So we had to RUN to the gold mine… bath… then RUN back! You would sometimes get to school filthier than you left! The gold mine was called Ongoro* by the way! So you see why people woke up at 3am to get water?


The famous abandoned gold mine! ‘Ongoro’ – See students all over the place!

People who were able to get water in the night had to keep it safe. DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPOSSIBLE IT IS TO KEEP A BASIN OF CLEAN WATER SAFE FROM 500 PEOPLE WHO DO NOT HAVE IT BUT REALLY WANT IT?!

The best people could do was keep this basin of water under their beds and keep checking on it every once in a while. It was stolen 3 out of 5 times. Another way to secure your water was to store it in a jerrycan under your bed then lock the handle of the jerrycan to the mesh under your bed. This ensured no one would tilt the jerrycan and pour the water out. But a thirsty man is a very dangerous man. You would get people who would undo your bed to pour the water out!

The 3rd way to secure your water (which didn’t secure it at all by the way) was to piss in it! It did not safeguard your water at all, but it consoled your heart that whoever stole your water showered in your piss! (Prefects had a room where they locked their water)

I want to concentrate on the above paragraph. Let me explain to you how I found out that people pissed in their water.

Very many times, when we didn’t have drinking water, one would just run into the dorms and check under the beds for a basin of clean water and like a cow, drink from it. You had to be quick and we almost never used hands. Wet hands is just undeniable evidence! WHERE WOULD ONE GET WET HANDS FROM? IN A PLACE WITH NO WATER!?

I know you must be wondering whether this same basin we were drinking water from is the same one we used for bathing and washing our underwear and school uniform … Yes it was! Yes it was! I am living proof that dirty underwear-soaked soapy water can’t kill you! Do not try it though, you will die!

Where was I?

Yeah, so there is this one time I sneaked into the dorm at class time to look for drinking water. It was completely illegal to be in the dorms at class time, so I was sure I was the only one there. I got an orange basin with the cleanest… purest water from under a bed that was next to mine! The water either belonged to Rodgers or the form one who slept on the top bank of his bed! I looked around to see if anyone was watching then when the coast was clear (see what I did there? Coast? Water? Aghh forget it) I pulled the basin of liquid gold from under the bed. It was as clear as Evian mineral water from the French Alps!

There was a strange smell that came from it but the water was too clear for the smell to be anything serious!

I went down on that water and in sure, confident gulps… Drunk away! And drunk… And drunk… Stolen water is so sweeehhhhhhhhh!

I had not noticed that Rodgers was asleep on the top bank. He had stuck his head out to look at me! I only saw him when I let out that ‘AHHHH’ you let out after a nice cold drink of water. I almost pissed in my pants! I was flabbergasted! Hehehe! I just wanted to use flabbergasted! I was shocked, not because the nigga had been there all that time, but because he was not doing anything about the situation! I was supposed to be dead! A normal ‘Ja Bare’ would have killed me for messing with his water!

Even stranger, he pulled back his head and said, “Kunywa tu. Sina noma. Ungeuliza lakini.” This was very weird…. Stolen water might be sweet… Lakini with permission, IT IS SOOOO MUCH SWEETEERRRR! And like that, I went down again and drunk some more! And some more… Then let out a sanguine burp!

It is only with the second, ‘AHHHH’ that he informed me, “Baithewei* nilinyora kwa hio woiyes*. Ni miujiza haujanotice!” (By the way, I pissed in that water. It is a miracle you haven’t noticed) It was at that specific moment that I tasted the salt! It was so obvious that I could not understand how I would have missed it! Then the smell… The thing, UNDOUBTABLY, had piss.

I had no clue how to react. It is not like someone tells you that you have drunk their piss everyday! So I just stayed there. On my knees. Facing the water. I didn’t move a muscle.

I was rooted on that spot trying to figure out wether to vomit and face dehydration or put my chin up and walk away with a quenched thirst! I could feel the vomit build up from deep within my insides! If I did vomit, it would have been like taking diamond back to the belly of the earth! So I got up on my feet, said thank you, then walked out of the dorm fighting the urge to vomit what had built up to the extent that I had to persuade ‘it’ to stay inside!

As this was going on, the thought of drinking another man’s urine crossed my mind and I swear to whomever you swear to that I have NEVEEEER vomited as hard as I did! Vomiting out water is not a walk in the park! I almost vomited my rectum out!

You would expect me never to drink water from a basin again, right? Well, from then on, I smelt the water first before I drank it!

New words:

Ja Bare – noun Pronounced ‘ja Barre’, is what we called each other in Barding.

Swwwweeeeehhh – adjective Modern lingo. Means sweet. (In a sentence: Acapella is so sweeeeeehhhhhh)

Accapella – adjective Sex without a condom. (In a sentence: Acapella is so sweeeeeehhhhhh)

Ongoro – noun An abandoned gold mine in the heart of Alego that has since collected water to form a large pond like feature. (In a sentence: Swimming in Ongoro is so sweeeehhhhhh)

Nyora – verb To excrete urine. (in a sentence: Maze joh najiskia kunyora design ingine noma!)

Baithewei – idiom (see also: by the way) incidentally (used to introduce a minor topic not connected with what was being spoken about previously). (In a sentence: Baithewei napenda chapo sana)

Woiyes – noun Water (In a sentence: Boss si unisave wiyes, nadedi thirst!)


Posted by on October 31, 2014 in barding tales, comedy, near death


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My Love Doris,

I really have bad manners. I apologise. It has been over a month since I last wrote… And I do not have an excuse! Does love have an excuse? Dos it ever? Please don’t stop talking to me because I am not sure if I will survive it. I am certain I have enough FluGone to silence my heart… It is dangerous having a 12 capsule drug that treats you on its 3rd capsule… So many pills lying around… This is no threat my love… If anything, it is my unDYING love!


So I haven’t written all this while because I have been thoroughly involved in the planning of the Storymoja Festival that ran 5 days, from 17th to the 21st of September. I swear to whomever you are most comfortable swearing to that I have never seen anything like that. It was amazing I tell you. It was a lot of work though. We barely slept at Storymoja during that period and before. Hundreds of local and international guests… 80 interns and a team of barely 20 men and women with 5 walkie talkies and thousands of literature lovers to satisfy. The only time I had to rest, Saturday night, was spent jumping and dancing at the Sauti Sol, Berry Heart, Dizraeli & Airosh (did I spell that right?) concert! I have ripped 12 trousers dancing to Sauti Sol… 12 my guy! So be advised that Sauti Sol time… Is gym time! I realised that was a terrible idea when I couldn’t move my waist Sunday morning!

This was me at the Sauti Sol concert at the Storymoja Festival

This was me at the Sauti Sol concert at the Storymoja Festival

If I continue telling you about the Storymoja Festival now, I will not have enough time to tell you what I had planned to tell you. I will leave a link at the bottom though!

This same night, driving home extremely tired, after dancing non stop for about 2 hours to Sauti Sol then later clearing up the Festival site for the next/last day, a man tries my patience!

A blue Subaru Impreza swerves then overtakes me just before I get onto Uhuru Highway at Museum Hill. I forgive the poor soul and try to convince myself that maybe I was on the wrong… Then the idiot screeches to a halt right in front of me. I swear if I was not such a deadly driver I would have torn off the Impreza’s ass! I got so close to him that I could see my plate reflect off his car!

My Esmeralda (my car) is kind and loving and for this reason she refuses to hoot! She decides to let out a faint snore instead. I almost broke the hoot button! The idiot ignores and speeds off!

At this point I was determined to wave my middle fingers at this idiot. So I spend most of my 700 bob worth of fuel trying to catch up to this guy! Subarus do not ati move slowly!

I meet him at the University Way Roundabout at a red light… I roll down my window and I wave both my middle fingers at him! I discovered this was a big mistake when the idiot rolled down his window… Slowlllyyyy. He was a big man! His head was massive. I quickly rolled up my window and waited for the traffic light counter to turn green!

Jeff Koinange and I after he autographed my copy of Through my African Eyes.

Jeff Koinange and I after he autographed my copy of Through my African Eyes.

The counter turned green… I didn’t move an inch… The Subaru didn’t either! (My plan was to let him go! Bad plan… And no plan B)

I shifted to gear one then shot! I was over 100km/h in no time… The Subaru was right behind me not even trying ati to speed! He kept on making his car make those loud Subaru noises behind me! The palm of my hands were drenched in sweat before we got to Haile Selassie roundabout! The man maintained the short distance between him and Esmeralda. His headlights were full… It was like he was trying to kill vampires with them.

I skip the red light on Haile  Selassie roundabout and almost hit another car. The guy still behind me.

Now you see I have heard about this road rage story… People shooting each other and other scary things like that. I was not about that. I had just bought an autographed copy of Jeff Koinange’s book, Through my African Eyes, that cost me about 4,000/- and there was no way in hell I was going to die before I at least went through the pictures… At least! I hit Bunyala/Uhuru Highway roundabout at breakneck speed. But I do not go past it. I go all the way round to see if the guy would follow me… He does! I almost piss my pants!

My unplanned, plan B, had hit the wall.

I decide to drive to my house and tell the watchmen to close the gates, which I now see was a terrible plan as well… But adrenaline makes you do stupid things!

I am blind… I can barely see at night. That information is very important for you to fathom what goes on the next paragraph!

Just hanging out with Bob Collymore and Rashida Namulondo at the Storymoja Festival.

Just hanging out with Bob Collymore and Rashida Namulondo from Uganda at the Storymoja Festival.

I go round the roundabout and shoot through Uhuru Highway towards Nyayo Stadium Roundabout… Or so I thought. I had taken a wrong exit. I was on Aerodrome Road at 100km/h. Driving towards traffic on a one way road. Thank Jesus Christ it was at 2am and only two cars were on the road… 3 cars, if you count the Subaru Impreza behind me! The huge male adult must have thought I was absolutely mad! That’s why I was convinced at that point that I was a dead man… Not everyone tolerates middle fingers waving at them!

The man slows down a bit… I don’t! I get to the Madaraka Roundabout and turn into Madaraka without slowing down. I look at my rear view mirror and couldn’t see the guy! I make a dangerous turn into Madaraka Shopping Centre almost killing a couple that I suspect were making out in the dark in the middle of the road! Children!

I park at a corner and turn off my engine and lights! I look around… Nothing! The couple I almost hit are now walking towards me, furious! MORE FUCKIN’ PROBLEMS!

I apologise to the guy who at that point, needed his woman to see that he was BAD. They leave me alone!

On my rear view mirror I spot Hassan, the sausage choma guy packing up. I leave the car and run to him. If there was anyone who was going to save me that night… It was him. I have eaten enough of his sausage chomas to deserve it! (that sentence sounds nasty). He has a sausage choma left with a few kuku chomas. I ask him to make me one. He gets a bun and slowly slices it… The picks up a frankfurter and slices it in half then puts it neatly into the bun.

“Bila kachumbari kama kawaida?” he asks. (I am allergic to onions)

“Ndio!” I answer. I grab it before he could suggest ketchup and chilli sauce to be added onto it! I take a bit… It was at that second that I spotted the Subaru with the side of my eye. It would have been appropriate for the sausage choma to fall at this point but the thing is 100 bob, and I do not shit money!

The guy parked right next to my car. He then came out of his car and tucked in his shirt that was being pushed out by his stomach.

I started thinking fast. I had not been in a one on one fight for years. And I had never been on a one on one fight with a man that big!!! I was surely going to die!

Hanging out with cool people still at the Storymoja Festival. I am the guy with a cool head and butt out!

Hanging out with cool people still at the Storymoja Festival. I am the guy with a cool head and butt out!

The man slowly walked to where I stood. The bite I had taken of the sausage choma became hotter and hotter with every step he made. His legs were bowed and back arched. I spat out the sausage choma. No one wants to get punched on the face with sausage choma in their mouth!

“Hassan unajua huyu kurutu!?” The man asks and picks up a piece of chicken! He then salts the chicken… Then bites it! His eyes are stuck on mine.

You know when your life flashes before your eyes just before death? I was so scared I couldn’t even get my life to flash before my eyes.

“Customer wangu sana!” Hassan responds not knowing I was planning to jump on him incase shit went down!

The man was done with a quarter piece of chicken in three bites. He spat out clean chicken bones, his eyes still on mine.

“Kula sausage!” he ordered me. I took a bite of my sausage choma but didn’t chew. I swallowed it exactly the way it was. I almost died!

I have no clue where I got balls from but I did somehow. I started walking to my car. With my sausage choma tightly held in my left hand, I got into Esmeralda threw the sausage choma on the co-drivers seat and SHOT! I drove past my house like devils lived in that compound. I drove past Strathmore University which is like 40 blocks after mine. I drove up until I got to Mbagathi way. I then went into T-Mall and waited in the basement parking for half an hour, then slowly drove home! I parked right at the back of the apartment buildings and almost removed my plates.

I whistled as I walked up to my house praying all the prayers in the world. I wasn’t even worried about the sausage choma I had just left on my seat… Life is bigger than sausage choma!

I will post this version now but will make a few grammatical and spelling changes once @Owaahh edits it whenever!

Dear Subaru guy, if you are reading this, I am really sorry… Let’s not fight anymore! I am a really cool guy. I was just stressed with work that night. I swear!

In case you missed the Storymoja Festival:


Posted by on September 30, 2014 in comedy


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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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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)




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


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Another Shitty Story

Dear Doris,

You have seen me reduced to a vessel that’s nothing more than think of, love and miss you!  I have written you a few hundred letters that have gone un-replied… God knows if you even read them. Confessing my utmost attraction to you. You must truly be a terrible human being… It is either that or you changed your address. You cannot be a terrible human being, so I will force myself to believe, mtg letters have never reached you. And if that is the case, I pray they someday do! It is unbelievable how essential to me you have always been.

Back to business…

Saturday had itself a long night that started with a goodbye party for @Kipepeomjini who is leaving for the USA to go become more expensive to hire.

The party had food. Now let me explain. I am allergic to onions and fish and my system cannot digest lactose AT ALL! I hate avocado and I have never eaten it and I do not eat matoke. I am adventist so swine and anything eithout split hooves are never to be ingested. All I could eat in complete comfort is bread and chapati and water. This information is quite essential for the full understanding of what I am about to tell you.

The lady who was serving chapati did not like me very much because she gave the guy before me 3 pieces and the guy after me four pieces. I was give two pieces, which if put together makes half a chapati. HALF A CHAPATI! How was half a chapati going to change my life? 7 chapatis hardly makes any difference and here I was with half a chapati! I let it slide and served myself some mushroom, which is the core of this tale and not the chapatis.

At my table I rant a bit about the whole chapati business and everyone suggests I go back for seconds… I do! The chapati woman sees me and angles her eyebrows inwards, which was alright seeing that not everyone had eaten. I felt nothing and gave her my plate to add more chapati… She added 2 more pieces, which I thought was utterly inconsiderate and a test of my patience! I did not move a single step! I had skipped a few people who were already not too happy with me and now I was here creating a jam in the system.

“Ongeza!” I say with the authority of a pregnant woman to the father of her unborn child. Whilst looking straight at the buttocks of my retina, she slaps around 9 pieces on my plate… I was happy!

Before the party was over I feel the contents of my stomach somersault uncontrollably. I knew that instant that I had ingested something laden with lactose! It had to be the mushroom or the beans, but whatever it was, it wasn’t important because it was already inside me!

At that moment I slowed down my drinking. I was on Heineken and beer does not help a bad stomach at all! And then @MagungaWilliams tweeted me that alcoblow was near my gate, so I stopped drinking completely!

After the party, a good chunk of the party headed to Mercury ABC. Now walk with me very carefully!

AT ABC my tummy got worse. I love dancing and throwing my leg in the air uncontrollably but only the gods knew what would have happened if I would have kicked in the air! Only the gods know! I think Zeus knows best seeing he is deals with lightning bolts!

This is me kicking to Valu Valu...

This is me kicking to Valu Valu…

At about 4am, I had to go really badly! So because I know the downfalls of ‘going’ in the club, I dash to my car and attempt to drive home. I think in my head,”If I drive really fast, I can get to Madaraka in 10 or 12 minutes!” I wasn’t going to make it even if that time was halved! So I am seated in the driver’s seat my whole body is on fire! My thighs are slapped so tight I can feel blood clot at my knees! I was holding on to the steering so hard I noticed my ass was not even on the seat. I was suspended mid-air! I needed to find a solution!

I get out of my car and walk to the gents to gather intel and possibilities! First the place doesn’t even have a door so everyone who came into the gents would see my long legs. My dressing is flashy and even if I hid my face, someone would notice my shoes! That wasn’t going to work… I walk back to my car and clench my thighs together again!

I was stepping light on the tarmac. At this point even sneezing the wrong way wouldn’t be advised. I was in a particular state whereby even if someone hooted I would be finished….

Then a watchman asked me,”Budaboss uko pow!” (Are you ok?)

“Kuna choo safi around?” I ask, breathing slowly! “Yenye si ya ndani!” I add.

He stops to think for a second! A second I DID NOT HAVE!

“Kuna yetu pale juu!” He says pointing at the furthest end of the compound! IT WAS FAR! Right next to the exit! I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it alive!

We walk towards the ‘choo’! I meet friends on the way! People at the club always want to talk!! I summarise all of them! One really drunk one stopped me and asked me for 1000 bob because his card had been declined. I didn’t have a single cent on me because Alexander Muge had my wallet. The guy wouldn’t listen and he almost talked me into going back into the club to get it for him. Until the watchman muttered, “sina time mob Budaboss!” I had to go!

So I leave the guy stranded!

I ask the watchman if the toilet had tissue paper! It didn’t! “Lakini ntakutafutia!” He says!

We get to the watchman at the exit who is the one who normally has the keys to the toilet!

“Sijui ni nani amezichukuwa!” He says! My heart sinks horribly and my sphincter muscles almost let go! The compound has like 10 guards! It takes forever to find the keys! I am standing at the exit. Being as famous as I am, someone in almost all the cars recognised me. My story was, I lost my parking ticket and I was figuring out how to get out!

I was given 2 keys and instructions on what key opens what. But who could probably understand all that in my state!?

I dash to the door and I am fumbling terribly! Nothing was opening anything!

At this moment @Popzke spots me and calls out! I had no clue what I was going to tell him if he asked me what I was doing there! I walked to his car, watching my step and we talked for a bit! At this time I had given up all hope! Whatever was going to happen would be invited! Jehovah had the wheel. This guy had all the stories… Or rather, I didn’t have the timeeeee!

He finally leaves and I dash back to the door! It opens. Then there is a door on the left and another on the right!

Wait a second… Do you know when you are really pressed and you can hold it until you get to a bathroom and the pressure triples? Yes… Mine had tripled thrice!

I try the right one first! No key can open it! I try the left… No key can open it either! I try the right again…. Slower! Nothing! I say a two word prayer then I try the door on the left! “Please God!”

It opens! I collapse on the toilet seat… I saw the sun… The moon… The mountains and the rivers… I saw heaven!

The watchman was still out looking for tissue paper! I called Alexander Muge to hook me up! He doesn’t pick up his phone!

I wait for a short while then the watchman comes and waves a roll of tissue through the window!

“Budaboss uko fiti?” He asks (Are you ok?) I say yes… He asks 3 more times. It was time for me to leave.

I lock every door behind me on my way out!

Then I walk back… I flap my Armani jacket to get rid of the fresh smell as I walk… I am busted by @dodmichaela who I give the same ‘fixing my parking ticket’ story!

Alexander calls me back, quarrelling at the top of his voice asking me what I was calling him for as if I didn’t know where I had left him… I hang up! I had had enough shit for one night!

The rest of the night is for me to know and for you never to find out!



Posted by on June 10, 2014 in Alexander Muge, comedy, near death


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Highway to the Grave… Yard

My Doris, my all, My Chapati and Beef Stew,

You might not think it possible my love, but you and I will surely see each other not too far from this moment! Our bodies might be miles apart but your heart cannot run away from my own… and your image cannot escape my mind! You are closer than you would be if you were seated right next to me!

My heart is full of so many things to say to you. Like always. Ok maybe not always. But tales or no tales…. Letters or no letters… Thoughts or dead in the brain, worry not my fat yellow yellow beauty, I am yours and not even another YOU can take my love for you! Not even another you!!! Oh God – so near! so far!

I have not had my car for about a week. This statement in itself is enough drama! Walk with me now. I hit a pothole and broke something Matata, my mechanic, calls the hub!

Last week I got onto a matatu to Madaraka at 10pm just opposite Red Robbin. Here is where they stop after 9pm. Normally one would get one at bus station! I am not certain about the matatu number but I am sure it is a figure less that 20!

Normally when I leave the office that late and I do not have my car, I ensure I am with Denet. Denet is my colleague and friend. I have known him since high school. The first time I was slapped in high school I was with him. He was slapped too. We were making noise. I should write about that sometime! He is the size of a small carand I believe, from office grapevine, can eat multiple loaves of bread in one sitting! He might kill me for saying that! His purpose is to scare away bad people who would feel it is necessary to take away my MacBook Pro or my 5.2″ screen Samsung! My watches are also quite costly…

Denet walks me to the matatu then walks to his, which is never too far from mine! But this is not about Denet!

We had heard gunshots at Koja Bus Park and I was pretty scared that night. But normally when I am that scared, I smell a great tale…

The matatu too eons to fill up! I was the only one for about 15 minutes. Then this tall skinny black kid in amateur dreadlocks came and sat next to me! I was seated at the front! He was eating mabuyu and spitting the seeds on the floor of the matau! I didn’t mind this ape like behavior until o seed hit one of my shoes. They are not expensive shoes, but they are from England… AND YOU DO NOT JUST SPIT MABUYU SEEDS ON SHOES FROM ENGLAND!!!

I decided to get off and sit at the back on the front row. Here I lied to myself I could read a book. So I yanked out ‘The Boy in the Stripped Pyjamas’ and struggled to read under a flickering neon light! The book is utterly sad though… I love sad books!

The matatu did not leave that spot for about an hour… And even then, it was still not full. I later learnt why. We did not have a makanga!

The driver got in and spur out,”Funga mango twende!” That was for me because there was no one as close to the sliding door as I was. The thing felt like it hadn’t been greased… Or it had been greased using sand!

The driver, when we got to Haile Selassie roundabout the asks the ‘Mabuyu Seeds Spitter’ to collect the money from people. “Kama haunt exact shuka tafadhali!” The driver said and parked at the petrol station at the roundabout just to show how serious he was. This did not make sense because he would have said this before he left the stage! But apes will always be apes!

Uhuru Highway2 men got off! Friends. Luos! I mean, who else wouldn’t have ‘EXACT’? Heheh! They were speaking in Luo. One man to the other,”Jogi bo nyalowa Narobi kaendi!” (These people will ‘weza’ us here in Nairobi!)

The driver then drove off…

Let me explain! I had 8 thousand in my wallet… In thousands! When the ‘Mabuyu Seeds Spitter’ gestured to ask for my money, I shamelessly gave him a thousand shillings. He snitched to the driver immediately!

“Huyu hana ganji ndogo!” (This one doesn’t have ‘little’ money! The driver, I believe didn’t think for one second about what he did next! He, just at that spot where bulldozers are sold, got off the road and onto the pretend pavement and told me to get off! I thought it was a joke up until he got off and slid the un-greased sliding door and ordered me out!

“Jaribu hiyo ujinga penguin!” (Try that stupidity elsewhere)

I got off!

Now let me explain just how close to death I was! On the other side of the road is an old graveyard known as Makaburini. This fact alone is completely and entirely scary! But that was not my problem… The biggest issue was how unsafe the area is. The morning before that my colleague was telling me how her brother was cut on his head using a panga by thugs. And there are so many other cases like that.

My only chance of survival was to run to Nakumatt Mega. It is not too far from where I was abandoned. In fact, it is quite close! But distance doesn’t mean shit with a guy with a panga pursuing your ass!

I am a fast runner. But there is something that happens to you where you are totally freaked out! Not adrenaline… Whatever comes after adrenaline. It brings you to your knees!

A matatu slowed down near me and the making shouted,”Mkubwa ni lifo unatamani ama?” He asked. (Is is death you wish for or what!) “Unaenda wapi?” He continues!”

“Madaraka!” I answer. “Panda twende!” He suggests. This of course was too was. Maybe these were the thugs. I looked inside the matatu and counted 4 men and a woman! That woman was mad, getting into a matatu with 6 men at 10:30pm!

I get in!! I sit at the front!

The driver is called Jonathan Olande and speaks really good English. For a few minutes he quarrels me on why I was walking that stretch at that time of night alone. He doesn’t give me room to explain!

He drops me off at the Madaraka roundabout and tells me he is going to Langata and that was the furthest he could take me! When I was walking away he shouts,”Here is also bad! But you are used to danger, insn’t it?”

I run home and eat a chapati as I thank God about my life!

Below are videos to show how cray cray Makaburini is!



Posted by on May 30, 2014 in comedy, near death


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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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