riots, riots, more riots

I do not find it peculiar that our dignified lecturers are rioting all over town, actually it is the hip thing now and everybody is doing it. Egypt started it, Libya did it, and Syria is still doing it. The Occupy Wall Street thing in US has no real agenda but in Kenya, we give new meaning to ‘protest’ in our own cool way. If you do not know how to strike, dude you are so ol’ skul and you should…seriously, MUST get lessons from You Tube ASAP. Yo, this how we get down and dirty around here bro!!

It is humbling when your tutor comes to you seeking handy strategies on how to organize and execute a ‘safe’ running battle with the police. Tactics of laying boulders on the highway and hurling rocks with accuracy were formally instructed to our eager lecturers. Who will turn down the assurance of better grades in the dreaded State and Development class? They must have planned this for a long time, fine-tuning the onslaught to the very tiny details with the precision of ‘operation Linda Nchi’.

In their plans, it seems they overlooked one crucial aspect of their physique. Advice: you cannot exercise your right to riot if you never exercise. We will have to rely on the reformed police/thugs to knock some sense into their heads that they are not as nimble as they used to be. Who are they kidding, with their beer bellies and vitenges, these people are no match for our new and improved law enforcement force. The idea of Mr. Musisi and the flamboyant Mrs. Anyonje running from a mob of bloodthirsty GSU officers brandishing rungus is unfathomable. To think that Ole Kamau will be able to subdue the anti-riot police with his threats that make me dread every Monday morning is just horseplay. 

As the lecturers meant to mentor us are busy picketing and mouthing profanities in the streets of Kakamega, occupants of room 118 are wondering why the work study students were left out. Obviously, they are the ones who get the peanuts of the peanuts paid to regular staff but heck if anyone cares.

For my part, I just wish we riot against more important things like, the high price of chicken since we are in Kakamega. Maybe we also riot against this girl who thinks dumping me makes the world a better place. Lady, look around, it is not like you turned down the heat on global warming and Kim Jong Il is not retiring any time soon. Last time I checked, the shilling is still behaving badly so come back and maybe we can do something about it.

finding me...

I have been roaming around the net and I made a life changing discovery; everyone I know has a lil something about themselves. So I thought maybe I should too, because for one, I really need a couple more ‘real’ followers in my blog. Actually I have only one-an affiliate of the Russian Mafia- and very soon he might start asking for protection money!!

Anyway, I thought it was pretty easy writing about me only to find out I don’t know NOTHING/NADA/ZIT! about myself. I have been with me for around two decades yet I don’t have even a tiny clue who I really am, which is a little bit weird…okay, dreadfully weird.

I guess it is time I put my shit together and blaze my own trail in saving the planet or ruling it, whichever comes first although I prefer the later because I recently perfected my super evil laugh. It is like nothing you have ever heard before, a cocktail of the most formidable, blood cuddling villain cackles that ever existed. It will make Ming the merciless speechless and it will surely wipe out The Joker’s smug grin.

Oh yeah, I am going to revolutionize the wicked laugh industry for ever my dear friend. It is so gruesome, I cringe in fear after delivering it and it has taken some time getting used to it. I am pretty sure even superman’s chivalrous heart’s antics will be cut short at the slightest snort of my laugh.

So I guess the only thing left is to laugh my way to full control of the world, feeding on the fear in my nemesis’ souls. I mean, how hard could that be? I will surpass all the medieval men who tried to take over the earth and failed, rewriting the books of history, filling their pages with my awesomeness.

 My heroic deeds (or wicked, depends on the parties involved) will be the stuff of legend and murals will be erected at every street corner in my name as the grandest monarch that ever walked this earth. PwahahaHahahahaha cough! cough!

growing pains

Baby brawl

I had the task of baby sitting my one year old sister- this little bundle of joy that never smiles- and really learnt a great deal of stuff I always took for granted. For instance, not all kids are easy to please, my ‘goochi goos’ work like magic on others but only meet half eyed cold stares from this little monster. This is before she breaks into this teary squeal like she is about to get butchered. In fact, she prefers punching, kicking and tearing off my hair as a favorite pastime that I helplessly comply with lest she falls back into her nerve wrecking tantrums.

LESSON 1: Changing a diaper

      To be honest, mom made this feat look easy and I did not even dwell on the specifics until my moment of reckoning came. Putting it on was the easy part because all the three steps were on the ‘Pampers’ package, though at first I fitted them inside out. I’m done securing it when I feel some warm lump on her bum and I’m like, “oh no you didn’t!” and she is like, “Nye Nye Nye” which is baby for, ‘oh yes I did!’ pampers should seriously consider adding a step 5 and 6 for removing the darn thing because I ended up covered in baby profanities all over my face and t-shirt. I have officially filed a complaint and I’m suing them in court.

LESSON 2: Baby lingo

      We all know babies do not speak nothing, they just do it, taking the adage actions are better than words quite literarily so to speak. When Nduks wants to piss, she just sets her self loose and bawls like I’m the one who did it. In case she was roaming around the house and there is some eerie quiet, that girl is up to something terrible. I’ve come to master the calm before the storm because there is nothing as creepy as warm piss trickling down your back, into your shorts to your legs.

LESSON 3: Feeding kids

      Oh yeah, seems easy but they do not like food but prefer eating dirt, garbage and especially anything on the ground that can fit in their oral cavities. Sadly, they do not discern that they are hungry and thus come the task of forcefully shoveling it down their throats. I find it a little bit extreme but we do not want Nduks starving to death now do we? The whole ordeal leaves a huge mess that needs washing her and thoroughly cleaning the battle field and not forgetting me.

LESSON 4: Love drug

      It takes more than guts of steel to stand the stress of raising a child but just a dose of love and patience completes the equation. It beats me how my mom managed to raise all three rowdy boys and one silent daughter without strangling any of us to death and I now have much more respect and love for her. To all mothers, like Beyonce says, you run this world and we just live in it.

The whole experience ultimately made me know that I will never ever get hitched, not now, not tomorrow and not in a million years. I do not want my wife to labor with kids just because I asked her to be my sleeping partner till we die but heck if she wants; I’m prepared to give her a perpetual pregnant matrimony.

of boys and girls

WOES OF BEING A GENTLEMAN

I was just walking along when I spotted this damsel in distress and being the lam that I am, yours truly was obliged- albeit half heartedly, to come to the rescue and save the day. Well, it was a pretty sorry sight as the lady tried to salvage her books from the ground, struggling to stay upright on her wobbly high heels all the while making a futile effort to conceal her precious cargo from the passing public.

I have to admit as a matter of fact that she was undeniably a beauty. Anyway, the miniskirt, which was more of a scarf I should say, provoked the attention of any normal man’s prying eyes to attempt getting a glimpse of the hidden treasures underneath. Her bosom’s occupants were really feeling the pinch of real estate scarcity as the top was clearly fashioned as a cost cutting measure. It seemed her tenants would pop out at the slightest intrusion, what with her distressing efforts to bend over in very precarious positions at the same time juggling with the weave that was constantly blocking her view.

To add salt to injury, the morning draft was scattering her papers all over the place. Out of sheer pity and a little chivalrous heart, I went out of my way to chase the damn papers across the football pitch, over a fence and into some thickets. Our damsel just stood there looking pretty, impatiently twitching her heel while making a very important call about making a seat reservation in class but I did not mind at that moment, until now. When her little serf was done, the young miss just stuffed the papers in her huge purse and left.

Oh yes, not even a pat on the back, let alone a teeny weenie smile or a much deserved ‘thank you’ but evidently where women come from, you do not get thanked for doing your job. Even dogs get treats when they play fetch but I settle for a cold dissertation and a hurt conscience for the troubles I go through when trying to be nice for a change but it gets mistaken for a petty cry for affection. Whenever a guy tries to help a pretty lady out, it is as if there is this huge banner on his torso shouting “HOOT! HOOT! Watch out, Hopeless romantic coming through!”

Price tags

You probably think this is another annoying rant about oil prices, the hullabaloo of how life is harsh and how we are doomed to be chained to our ignorance. That issue has been so over done leaving a murky if not soar after-taste in your breath. The issue is much closer home, tickling your bosom, subdued by your ego and seldom talked about. It often bugs you how far you would go to get that something you badly need when the opportunity presents itself, your dignity at stake. You will literally knock your socks off at the wonders you are capable of doing.

As you prance around acting up to societal proclivity, you have a charge on your forehead and when you get bought, so to speak, the mask comes off and you are like the phoenix, reborn doing things unimaginable. For instance, if I offered you five million to walk stark naked from the library to Muliro Garden, you will probably sneer and question on how cheap I think you are. Okay, what if we raised it a notch higher, say around fifty billion? Right, I thought so too, but tarry a while, what will your mother say, yes, even if it was a charity march?

Some wise somebody once held that money cannot buy love, well it seems he was mistaken or perhaps we can blame it on the novelty of money in their time. For all I know in our day, it is all about the riches, the big black cars and chasing all those stars that we never really grapple in the end. At the right price, a segment of our species will lay out their wares for auction plied with a few drinks and a couple of gifts all in the name of love. Pardon my incursion nevertheless I do not think them as cheap and lowly as you may presume, they are the most demanding, unforgiving humans I know.

The fee surrendered really need not be for all the wrong dissolute reasons and most times it is for very noble and distinguished grounds. Case in point, you have to shell out dearly for more than two decades to seize that all so important education and ultimately get a hold of that dream job. It is a constant struggle, because even after you obtain it, you have to forfeit long hours in the office to climb the social hierarchy. Sadly, most of us never attain that bliss we relentlessly hound after until you drop dead and the eulogy ironically articulates that the poor soul lived a full life.

It seems like everybody has price, I wonder how they sleep at night when the sale comes first and the truth comes second. Why is everybody so serious acting so damn mysterious with shades on your eyes and your heels so high that you cannot even have a good time? It is not always about the money or the bling; happiness will never be traded in the stock market but I guess our rationale and self value have all been sold out. Nonetheless, true as the anecdote of self worth, dignity and what others think of our ways may be, the privilege of a life well lived is in fact being yourself.

crossroads

Sited in the middle of the room alone, is the poor soul hunched in despair, swaddled in tangled thoughts waiting, staring blindly into darkness creeping in through the windows. It crawls onto the huge dining table, swallowing the chairs and couch in its wake like some evil, hungry monster slithering towards its feeble prey.

 Tick tock of the clock resonates over the cold brick walls growing louder with each passing second creating an ominous buzz in his ears but he is stuck in time, immobilized by the weight of lost years heavy in his heart. Sickening nausea wells up deep down in victim’s throat drowning all hope as cold nostalgia chills his person to the bone.

Sinking into self inflicted misery like quicksand, only faster with no hanging bough to hold onto, he suffocates with every bated breath inhaled. He was on an all important quest to find himself but he got lost on the way with no G.P.S locator or any good old pathways to lead him home and thing is, this he has no idea where to start neither does he know where his expedition leads.

perverted privacy peeves

for all it's worth, it seems i cannot afford any amount of privacy, without some freak looking over my shoulder, prying into my stuff. Especially in cyber cafes, some people just can't stop their eyes from wandering

this perverted freak keeps stealing peeks into my monitor like he has no business to do.

  oh great now he is leaning into my space, my zone, my FREAKING atmosphere. that's just awesome,  is that his breath down my neck? i swear im gonna go all gangster on him if he keeps staring at what im TYPING

     what the hell! this jerk is now korrecting my spelling misteks..that is just plain rude..u r nt my spell cheker dummy..remove your filthy fat fingers off the monitor!! 

what now..stop calling the secretary, for heavens sake, we can sort out our own business. STOP IT, MORON! You are the one who needs to be thrown out, stop being such an idiot. Lets have some coffee after this and forget it ever happened, ok? ..no?

   im not dumb my friend, i express my feelings better in writing, that's all. so please tell the secretary to go away now...NO?

  ..lemme just put the last words..NO?

STOP PULLING MY HAND!! UR SO STURBONNNNNNNNNN SOIFHLOSC; [F["''@@@$3$#