One unusual Friday, my partner-in-crime Dan Mwaura and I are busy at our Lenana Towers office, working on a side hustle (he also happens to be a work colleague – hope my bosses don’t read this). This side hustle is packaging one Kiambu politician with a Facebook banner. The said politician – who fell from the Jubilee race in a joint-crushing thud – had given me a small assignment to make him a banner but I decided to subcontract it to Mwaura who is a well-known jack of all trades.…
The other day I told you to Be A Man … but I did not tell you how. Today I will pass some wisdom over to you. Keep it in thine heart. HERE IS HOW TO BE A REAL MAN!
Don’t Fear Shit. Being fearless doesn’t mean you don’t have fear, it means you know how to conquer fear. It’s good to test your fear, to overcome it. You see that miraa Hilux approaching and you step out to the middle of the road – pale Kangeta.…
I am a rapper. At heart, everywhere. And now, it’s time to roga you musically. How do I know that? That I am a super MCee, super lyric buster? I just know… I know my talents and rapping is one of them.
This rap mojo started when I was in high school. In Form 2, to be specific. My Gitura ushamba was slowly wearing off and I was making up for lost time. I was sporting towards “becoming a G”.…
Due to public demand, let’s continue from where we left. About the great city of Gitura. Well, it’s a village, but there is a Pastor who came to preach in a crusade at Gitura Primary School and he told God to bless the ‘City of Gitura’ … I was proud of my city my village that day , and as you know, what God has blessed no one can put asunder.
Speaking of Pastor, I told you there is a time Gitura was as bad as Kosovo.…
This is NOT Mamaa
The other day I was told of a women group on Facebook rivalling Kilimani Mums… it’s called Vuteni Stool. When a woman says, “vuta stool nikuambie”, know it’s going to be a hot story.
I’m not a woman, not even remotely with this smug face of mine, but vuta stool I tell you about my village. It’s one of the best, most comic places you will ever find.
It’s Sunday morning. It’s been a week since you had your last bath. Your legs are the real definition of mpararo – complete with whitish-greyish drawings, atlas maps on your legs.
Speaking of legs, you are showing lots of skin because your green, yellow or brown shorts reach mid-thigh like a socialite in hot pants.
Your hair looks like a lawyer’s wig. White from the kamuithia you made with ashes on Monday. And yesterday’s swimming at the stagnant pond nearby.…
“Kama umetahiriwa nitusi tena.”
I was in my village last week. And I took a walk around the village one fine evening inspecting projects of development.
The girls I knew as babies were shyly smiling at me. Grown women who are now worthy of visiting my simba. One or two now have babies of their own.
Boys I saw being taken home in baby shawls from hospital are now fearsome young laing’o capable of filling both cheeks with taxiies of veve (a feat I have never accomplished).…
There is a common saying among my crew, “We belong to the clan of pigs. We eat anything.” Growing up, I have eaten anything I have been offered, including the sumptuous, inviting piles of mole soil. 🙂
It has all been a factor of what I can afford at a point in time.
Or the Nairobi Initiation 3 period, when Kero and I lived in a house within a house, where the family used to eat chicken daily and we would pass by their kitchen to go make ugali with the sufuria we had cooked porridge in in the morning, without washing.…
When I told you I was already a sexpert by Class 2, I know you said to yourself “this is one of those hopelessly spoilt brats.” No. I was better than most, most of the time. Or rather, instead of doing the small small things that got y’all caned daily, I would accumulate my misdeeds and unleash one huge misdeed at some point. It would be so big a sin, even comical, I would be unbeatable. People would just laugh it off, or look at me in bewilderment.…
I was telling you the other day about my life with my grandparents. With the worms gone and a contract for the supply of mandazi signed with the local chef de mandazi, Kombo, life started. I went to school quite early, barely three, given there were no baby classes and kindergartens back then. They had to find something for me to do rather than spend time chatting with grandma’s drunk customers and getting tempted by yummy mole hills.…
I am my parents’ first born.We didn’t live at home at some point. We lived in the remote Antubetwe Kiongo shopping centre (mouthful, huh?) where my dad had a clinic. Our living quarters were the kaplot behind the clinic.
Those who know me know I love tea. Before you poke fun at Luhyas, get in touch with me first.
The past few weeks have been quite fast for me. Long nights, hard work (which I enjoy a lot, by the way), hours facing a screen of sorts and, well, not having time for myself, leave alone lovers and friends. Takes a toll on life, trust me. But it is a phase you have to go through when you have a young calf you need to breastfeed and support to stand on her feet. (See what I did there?
Hello, can you hear me?
Ni California (my childhood nickname),
Namiss vile ulikuwa unaniita Calif,
When we were young and free,
I am now older, just call me Frank. Nikuite Mama nani?
There is such a difference between us
I hear you have three kids..
Hello from Mauaaa!
…
I hate Whatsapp! Let me rephrase that. I dislike some aspects of Whatsapp. Like the endless viral messages you receive from 69 people and in 13 groups. You may get the same freaking picture 7 times in the SAME group! I would uninstall it any time were it not for my stinginess with airtime. Why chat on Bob’s expensive airtime when you can do it for free(almost?).
By the way, it is official! You will NOT be paying for annual subscription for Whatsapp!
…
So the girl you have been eyeing for ages has finally accepted a sleepover and you have a feeling that this will be a good night. You had praised your kitchen skills on Whatsapp and she wants to taste your food. You will cook for her. So, you go to the market, or supermarket depending on where you are, and buy cooking stuff you don’t use in your bachelor pad, like carrots and cucumbers, garbage. You get ginger, dhania and pilipili hoho, too.
… |
Have you slept hungry, not because you don’t have food in the house, but because cooking sucks, especially when you know you will eat it alone? Have you then tried to sleep in a cold bed (in Limuru), alone, and still hungry? Have you woken up at 1:00 pm every Saturday, hyper hungry and stayed indoors till Sunday evening without speaking to anyone? Makes the mouth stink. Has Monday ever reached without you doing the laundry for the week because you had no one to wash for you, or at least motivate you?
A few weeks ago, I was lazily scrolling my Facebook when I saw a beauty. Some of you will call me a fisi, but males are supposed to “see” beautiful females, right? I see them a lot. But this one caught my eye. She was beautiful. I just like such photos. But I commented on this. See, she was wearing a tee shirt that resonated with me. It had this message that I had seen before but, frankly, hadn’t given much thought: Baite Inside: Proud to be Meru.
I am walking home from college. Remember, I am doing CPA at Vision and I live in Plot 10, Kirinyaga Road. Just past Globe Cinema, this guy meekly greets me. He is lost, and wants to know where KCS house is. I tell him I don’t know. He has this heavy Meru accent, and I ask him if he is Meru… He is. Where? Kianjai. Wow! I went to school near those parts. Next thing I know, we are korogaing deep American.
… |
Have you ever lived in a remote control house? These are the houses, err, cubicles where a 6 by 3 ft bed fills the room. You can touch all four walls lying on the bed. You can close the door and window, cook, reach the “wardrobe” side of the room, and the TV that you have to hang from the roof because there is nowhere to place it. That, my friends, a remote control house.
Plot 10 is located right in town-yes, we lived in the CBD!
If you are reading this,you must have read part 1-3. Thank you for sticking with me. This is a true story and I have evoked nostalgia in some of my friends, and anger or shame or whatever in others. I am just Frank.
Where were we last time? Yes,we had to leave the house we knew as Mwanyenye- we knew only the house girl’s name because everyone in the house used to call her so loudly in Kisii,even in the middle of the night, to pass a glass of water.
So I came to Nairobi… And did all manner of things, including walking all the way to Rongai and meeting my high school sweetheart, Makena. As I was telling you…meeting Makena introduced a new aspect to my Nairobi life… a new dimension.
Read Nairobi Initiation 1. and Nairobi Initiation 2.
Makena had progressed a big deal. She was way ahead of me in class-she was almost finishing CPA while I was starting. She was a laid back, devout young lady while I was a Hip Hop head.
I was telling you the other day of some villager’s(aka yours truly) ‘soft’ landing in the largest metropolis in Eastern Africa-Don’t we love bragging with our city, Nairobi? Being the most intelligent monkey in a group of apes makes you number 1 by design.
Anyway, here I was, on the morning after. Duwano was actually a five star hostel, by my standards, maybe. There was a good breakfast ready-eggs, sausage, toast and tea-this was the life, baby!
The year is 2008. It is first of July and I am at the bus office bidding my mum goodbye. I am going to the big city alone for the first time,for a long time. Going to college.
I see a flash of tears in her eyes and she looks away fast. Tells me in a croaky voice to call her when I arrive.
“And keep the money safe” I am carrying cash.
Off we go. The bus literally crawling up those Meru hills.
Watch your Facebook or Twitter TimeLine for a minute…There! You saw a meme, right? Some go viral, and a lot more get stifled under the pressure of the largely capturing ones.
Memes are one huge way of building exposure in Social Media- a creative meme is sure to garner you lots of attention, get your point across in a funny way, and get you the engagement you crave for.
But what is a meme? How would you define a meme?
…Well, #KOT is at it again.This time against Nigeria.
How it strarted: When the Kenya National Team went to Nigeria for the World Cup qualifier against Super Eagles, the Stars were humiliated by the worst reception a Federation can give a visiting team-they were given a school for accomodation and no training ground.
Well, #KOT did what they do best..’tell them’
And Nigerians on Twitter retaliated-in a big way.
Who won? The jury is still out.
When they are not telling foreign journalists off, they are cajoling someone for what she said on reality TV, or analyzing politics with abandon.
Immediately after elections, this is what Politicians are ‘alleged’ to have conversed on Facebook,according to Fans of Crazy Monday.
…MUDAVADI Updates:
“I wish I knew”
Uhuru,Ruto,Balala and 467 other
governors and senators LIKE this.
Dictionary for Dummies:#KOT-Kenyans on Twitter#MKZ-Mukuru Kwa Zuckenburg-Facebook
hence
Recently, Nairobi governor aspirant Jimnah Mbaru posted a 37 page CV that went viral on Social media.The catch? It was posted on facebook notes! Got me thinking,why not write mine there and instead of sending emails, I can just send the link,the Facebook link!
Anyway after Amazing CVs I, here is a round up of other crazily creative CVs that have landed their creators in big places-for their complexity,or sheer simplicity!
From where we left off,the slideshow:
Presentation?
MORE COMING SOON>>>>>>>
Sources:
-Deviant Art
-Business Insider
-SlideShare
1. We have bought a computer for our home and we found problems, which I want to bring to your notice.
2. We are unable to enter anything after we click the “Shut Down” button.
3. There is a button “Start” but there is no “Stop” button. We request you to check this.
4. We find there is “Run” in the menu. One of my friend clicked “Run” has run up to kibwezi town.
…
The phone rings at 8:00 am,very irritating….I look at it with one eye and gauge its importance in my dream.Its dad..he can wait.I hit the silence button and sink deeper into blankets..
It rings again at 8:50…its Mum…..again I turn a blind eye…but her words since my childhood “..a little slumber..(you know the rest,I bet your mother also told you)..” jolt me to smithens.
I look at the gas cooker at the corner of my ‘remote control’ house…the dirty dishes of last night(the girl next door came just when I had finished cooking,and cut my ratio in half,thats why there are two plates-otherwise,I eat off the sufuria).
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