Psychology of a serial victim: my two sense perspective

A soft yell escapes her bruised beautiful lips. Such tragedy to use bruised and beautiful together in one sentence, an irony that is not only blasphemous but is an affront to mother nature too. Lips bruised not by blissful passion but by senseless violence perpetrated by a brute who should know better than to harm such a dainty creature whose only crime is to offer her unconditional love. Lips whose only charge, in a court of law, would be proclamation of undying allegiance to one who would bestow not unforgettable kisses, or welcome caress but monstrous slaps and injurious fists with total abandon and a sadistic inclination laced with willful malice. yet such a lass, despite her woeful coexistence with violent lads, will cling to the same pitiful existence like a drowning bloke clings to nearby reeds for one’s dear life. Such a tragedy, disheartening as it maybe, requires the strongest condemnation: not directed at the man, neigh, but at the lady who insists on remaining a serial victim.

So what really drives one so beautiful and sometimes blessed with intelligence too to lead such a shameful life, to be a punching bag to one who is clearly a coward and does not merit the balls which dangles underneath his cowering junk. Such a man must have inadequacies which pushes him to such a recourse, but regardless of his reasons, his acts cannot be vindicated and his cowardice can never be overlooked. But the victim, she bears the larger blame for she chooses to stay, she chooses to be hurt, she chooses to receive the pain hurled her way and bear it with senseless pride as if love must accompany tragedy for it to be immortalized. There are some who claim the reason they stay is out of fear, of threats, intimidation and self preservation. Which is worse dear reader, certainty of violence in staying or the probability of violence if one chooses to leave? Such a question, in my humble intelligence, can only have one right answer. So spare us such excuses and bear the outcome of your bad choices or find enlightenment and save your dear life, for violence begets more violence and the outcome is a soft coffin nestled six feet deep in a lonely ground.

Others stay for love, yes, that word which many people use to justify their damaged souls. The bible says love is kind, its never cruel. So how can one love you if he finds, with absolute ease, the strength to beat you like a dog. No, let me take back that last assertion. Men rarely beat their dogs, they caress them lovingly, they brush them and walk them proudly. So a man like that, he holds you in such low esteem he probably sees his dog in higher light than you. So wake up and smell the coffee, pack your clothes and seize back you God given dignity. For a woman without her dignity is nothing, she’s just a shell of her former self, though she might carry herself differently in public, the truth haunts her wherever she may go or whatever she may achieve. Ladies, say no to violence, say no to being serial victims.

The Minefield that is friendship

There are days, like today, when one questions the benefit of maintaining some friendships. This, dear reader, is not to say that all friends are useless and this post should not be misconstrued to mean that. However, all of us have encountered people we considered friends and only to realize that they are either in our lives to add unnecessary misery and just arrogant pricks who will disrespect us and deny us for their selfish reasons. These kind of people, bonoko friends if you may, are the worst kind of fish to swim in the sea of humanity. They are a disgrace to the institution of friendship which have been founded on the pillars of mutual respect, tolerance, understanding, empathy and compassion. Their selfishness and the burdens it imposes on us is a smear in what should be a white sheet of unconditional association and cooperation. Their betrayal, denial and disrespect a smudge in a mirror forged of transparency, accountability and reciprocation. Their acts, borne of greed, stupidity, conceited inclinations, recklessness is redolent of hyenaic tendencies and as such should be viewed in a similar light; with the repercussions been swift removal from one’s life.

Make me understand, dear reader, how someone you have treated as a pal and accorded the necessary platonic respect wakes one day and start telling you that you and her will never ever happen. A lady you look to like a sister and she shamelessly chides that you can forget ever seeing the color of her nickers. The same lost sister, progresses to spew out more atrocities and denying our friendship in the same stead as one effortlessly engages in mindless banter. In a week where another pal caused me significant financial loss without as much as a single apology. You have to wonder, come on, whats the point of trying to maintain civility with some of these characters. What gives some ladies the audacity to believe, that every one wants to examine the locale guarded by their colorful nickers. It is highly insulting when a female friend pulls such a stunt. Its an act demeaning to friendship, a shameful act that must be condemned with the strongest words possible. As for ladies with such tendencies, get over yourselves, we probably wouldn’t want to see those nickers if you paid us to anyway. The next time you get such an itch, look at yourself in the mirror, and if that doesn’t discourage your folly, be advised, you may not want to hear the truth of the issue once a guy decides to unleash the truth. Do not open a can of worms if you are not able to withstand the taste of the same.

Imponderables

A kid grows up somewhere in the slums of Nairobi, impoverished, cold and and confused. This is a scenario that affects so many people in our land, people whose fault was to be born by parents without means; parents who have to struggle in order to survive; parents who question the unjust of such an unequal and inequitable nation. These children sometimes have to gaze at the posh homes of the affluent usually juxtaposed next to the disheartening slums. And so as the sun bids humanity goodbye and the young ones troop from school and head to the comfort, and sometimes discomfort, of their homes; the rich head to their luxurious abodes and the poor glibly find themselves into their humble shanties. It is almost redolent of past colonial times when the masters lived in mansions and enjoyed the fruits of our labor while the African, hitherto taken to be lackeys only, would wallow in the misery of servitude and languish in the torture of cruelty and unkindess. I would imagine that these kids, bowels rumbling with the hard pangs of relentless hunger, would question the kind of fate that assigns one infant to a life of grandeur and confines another to the indignity of slum living. Who gets to choose where one is born? Why don’t we get a choice to choose whether to be born or not? Why is it that humanity must be fragmented into two unequal segments, the haves and haven nots? The answers to this questions transcends common sense and how we attempt to answer them is highly subjective to our skills, intelligence and culture. But mostly, such questions do not have any right answer and such answers as might be propagated by people are mere suggestions. These kind of questions, dear reader, are imponderable questions.

There are many examples of such questions and people who try to find answers to imponderable questions are walking on a path laced with frustrations and fraught with the danger of over speculation in an area where nuance isn’t possible and any evidence to the contrary must exist through unethical skullduggery and backed by supplanted data. But man’s need to know will always prove too strong and speculation will always be rife within our society especially within the academic circles. In fact, philosophy can be accused of delving too strongly into issues whose possibility of arriving at clear, concise and valid answers is not possible.Take the issue of God, and their overly ambitious attempts to prove that he exists, and some that he don’t, with the presupposition that they have the means to reach conclusions which are beyond peer disapproval. I disagree, since we cannot see God, we should not try to rationalize an issue of faith. Somethings are supposed to be viewed through faith and our learned fellows should devote their significantly talented minds in pursuit of more objective goals . As to the rest of the imponderable questions, they will always intrigue us, but we should not obsess too much about that which we cannot fathom but instead focus on those that we can change or at least mitigate.

For the sake of writing

Dear reader, let me begin, and do not take this to be an effort to obfuscate the issue, but rather to provide nuance as to why I haven’t wished you a happy new year despite wanting to for the last two weeks. I have to say that I have been longing to get  a forum, any forum for that matter (please forgive my love for appositives) to use these two words; obfuscation and nuance. But before I indulge in a brief explanation of what these terms mean, let me retrace my steps and find my path to my original intent. Clearly,explaining these words is definitely inimical to the spirit of this post but without wanting to exacerbate this diversion, let me point you attention back to the title. Yes, this post have no head or tail and those who attempt to discern any deeper meaning would be exercising an effort in futility. This being January, kindly save your cognitive faculty for more important things, like creating a story which might get you a soft loan from a stingy friend.

Most of you must have had an awesome time during the holidays and are reeling from the effect of overindulging in hedonism at the expense of better judgement and restrain. Most of you must have packed your skimpy clothes and headed to enjoy the pleasures of the coast or the serenity of Naivasha. Its all good, you have fun with your women, get intoxicated with your booze, smoke your weed and other shit, yeah we know how you roll. But answer me this, you arrogant prick, how are you enjoying the empty pocket right about now. I can see you trying to placate you human resource manager or payroll guys hoping that this kindness will translate to an advance or a small loan. yeah give up, eat your greens for the month, drink your cheap liquor and grow some white hair while at it. Honestly, I don’t really give a damn. What I mind, with good reason, is my inability to put words to blog on any topic worth my effort and worthy of your time. So I find myself here, tail between my legs, throwing words without cohesion and lacking synergy between intent and meaning; totally devoid and with complete disregard to word syntax.

But seriously, happy new year. For those guys who are regulars at this verbal cafe, welcome, any time, the ambiance haven’t changed a bit. The menu is likely to improve though, to cater to your growing tastes and accommodate the needs of those inclined to specific biases. And for those who I make a daily effort to drag my tired grey matter as I shift through your posts in the hope of literal enlightenment and cognitive satiety, kindly enrich your content so we have a reason to keep coming back. I apologize, if some of you find some of my chosen words to be a tad convoluted. I will try to mitigate the level of complexity, hopefully in a few months,I will achieve complete detente. Well, I did warn you, if you cared to notice, that this article was written with a single aim. To write, for the sake of writing, governed by no particular objective and constrained by no individual purpose. Since this is supposed to be a free forum, and the underlying attitude being a forum for the unexpected, bear with my irrelevance and forgive my self-aggrandizement. I haven’t forgotten, that supposedly I should provide the meaning of those two words, it would be too easy for me to do so, but I choose not to. Blogosphere is a volatile zone, so today, take this to be homework, and I expect you to provide your answers as soon as you possibly can. And no cheating please.

Of Bad moods and Lonely Existences

I’m feeling sad and alone, a lonesome that is eerie as it is unexpected.

I’m feeling trapped, an entrapment that is suffocating as it is cruel.

I’m feeling cold, a cool that is depressing as it is unavoidable.

I’m really confused, a confusion sawn of disbelief and bad choices.

And I’m really remorseful, a remorse as genuine as it is heartfelt.

The above poem is a mirror into the disarray that is my thoughts, the whirlwind that has become my brittle emotions.  I’ve always thought that I will always live a regret free life, a vibrant life if you may, a life of vigor and subject only to the dynamism of imagination. Where knowledge is just but a booster of better judgments and wisdom but a guide of better choices. Paradoxically, where it becomes possible to live by ones ideal; it creates a scenario of blown bridges that we only recognize as vital when it’s but too late.

So as a consequence of seeking the promised life, la vida loca, we walk over the people that matter in pursuit of things that only seem to matter. As we live a life of senseless strife, que sera sera as one beautiful lady said to me, we adopt the notion that lets whatever will be, be. We see the end only as the only thing that matters and fallaciously believe that the end justifies the means. Interestingly, this attitude leads us to ignore the infinite goodness of the human soul and reduce people to means; means to an earthly end. We do so without realizing the error of our ways, with complete disregard to divine wisdom, and casting aside the immortal saying that extols the soul and diminishes the value of all that is material.

But at the end of the day, we end up alone and ashamed. Alone because we chose the world over those who would give up the world for us. Ashamed because we failed to recognize, in good time, that the world means nothing if you loose those who matter to you along the way. So if you are one of those people who I’ve hurt, my sincere apologies. Sometimes we hurt those we love because life plays us the wrong cards; we are helpless and have no way to show to you our vulnerabilities. When this happens, it is only human for you, dear friends, to see us in bad light. It is normal for you to cast us a side, to hate us even, when all you should give is sympathy and understanding. For those few who despite all odds remain steadfast with us, God’s blessings, for your graces are surely divine. And God’s mercies shall follow you all your lives.

For those we treasure, yet they still desert us at our hour of need, we find it within out troubled hearts to forgive you. We do so because we treasure the moments when life was easy, when smiles flowed like the wine in Cana.  When we joked and played and laughed our hearts out in celebration of our unity and bathed in the pleasure of each others company. We pray that God blesses you paths too, for even in your betrayal, we still find solace; that once, we were lucky to call each others friends. In this time of darkness, the light shall shine again and show you the way back to where we made our friendship bloom. And for you, yeah you, that he grants you divine wisdom to understand, even while everything points the other way, nothing changes in the way I feel about you.

Marijuana should not be Legalized- An Article for the Commonwealth publication

Marijuana should not be Legalized

Most of us have either seen or smoked marijuana, either in a recreational or medical setting. What is common about the drug, locally and internationally, is its illegal status. But this has not discouraged some people from partaking of the drug and the consequences for this legal disregard is socially and economically catastrophic. There exists a divide on opinion regarding the legal status of the drug with some loudly calling for its legalization especially in major powers like the US. The debate on the legalization of marijuana is not new and has raged for several decades with both the proponents and opponents of this motion using emotional appeal and factual evidence to back their claims. Marijuana is one of the most abused drugs across the world and the call for its legalization has a significant impact on governments and individuals. This has informed my opinion that marijuana should not be legalized since doing so will lead to increased addiction, social evils like crime and additional burdens to the world’s health care system through treatment of this addiction and drug induced accidents.

Marijuana is addictive and one of the most abused illegal substances in major cities across the world. Legalizing the drug will just increase addiction by making it readily available to the users and tempting non users to engage in its consumption. This will in turn lead to reduced productivity and increased social evils in form of crime since drugs reduce inhibitions. Education might also be affected either through teens dropping out of school or their performance being greatly affected by marijuana use.  Those who have had the privilege to study in public universities here in Kenya will attest to the extent which student’s abuse the drug which they have ascribed nicknames like weed, bush, kush and “ndome.”This abuse leads to risky behaviors like experimentation with alcohol, other drugs and reckless engagement in dangerous sexual activities. Needles to say sustaining this addiction requires money and student’s who have no ready source of income result to dangerous behavior like robbery or prostitution to get cash for basic needs and marijuana. The side effects include increased AIDs prevalence, unwanted pregnancies and an increase in the rate of abortions.

Those calling for marijuana legalizations have citied taxation of the drug as a way for government to control its use and increase its revenue. However, statistics have shown that legalization of drugs does not increase its effective control or add revenue in relation to social cost as demonstrated by the two legal drugs; alcohol and tobacco. For instance, in the United States, the federal cost of attending to alcohol related conditions amounted to $185 Billion as compared to alcohol related revenue totaling $14.5 billion. Medical data collected in trauma wards have shown that most deaths and major injuries on our roads are caused by marijuana smoking drivers. Marijuana, like alcohol, impairs the judgment of the driver and the resultant effect is unnecessary carnage. Innocent lives are lost simply because a few people chose to engage in illegal fetish. What would happen then if the drug was made legal, how many innocent lives would the world lose under the hands of a few hedonistic individuals. How many more resources would we need to assign to treatment rather than focus on other welfare programs meant to make this world a better place? No, legalizing marijuana is not just impractical; it’s downright immoral.

 

If it were you

I’m sitting in my crib,  a second floor flat in Jacaranda Donholm. I have balanced a laptop, precariously in fact, on my lap as the theme song on the TV goes on and on about some “I don’t want to” crap. I have on my table a cheap glass of wine, cheap because its that Penasol crap they pack in green bags and call it white wine. But hey, I belong to the struggling low middle class and good wine is a luxury I can afford in special occasions. I have a solitary scone resting languidly on my table, puzzled, as to why I just let it wallow there in bored anticipation. I have thought of a million ways to write this post, a way that will appeal to all without discriminating upon those who believe, or actually are, on the upper echelons of the literal world. The only way to begin this post, is to ambush you, my dear reader.

My sincere apologies, perhaps I hit below the belt, perhaps I should have prepared you for the visual onslaught that I just waylaid your strained eyes with. But if I told you that my intentions were not to shock and inspire forced empathy in you, I’d be lying. yeah, I’m guilty as charged. Actually, I’m a self professed shocker of bloggers and fans alike. I’m not sick within my humble soul, neither I’m I a sadistic bloke bent on a path of torturing simple, law abiding readers in search of a fulfilling literal experience in the huge expanse that is the internet. All I wanted, ladies and gentleman, is to pose the following question and lay the ground for introspection and create a fertile ground to achieve the right answer. What if it were you sitting on that stool, without a small and vital part of the body we call a jaw?

What if instead of this comfortable couch that I sit on, oblivious to my blessings, unappreciative, indifferent and assuming that it should always be like this, what if I was standing next to that hospital bed like Maoga is? What if instead of this lone scone on my table lay a million tablets whose sole intention is not to quench hunger but to prolong a painful existence. Instead of this cheap wine, what if I heard several needles sticking into my veins pumping sustenance into my blood if only to see a few more days, days full of pain and haunted by the ghost of despair. Instead of this flat, if positions were exchanged and I dwelled in some roadside shanty in some insecure, cold and lonesomeness place of this unforgiving city. Imagine then, when nothing can be worse than the aforementioned conditions, that small refuge was demolished and you were unceremoniously thrown into the sarcastic street. What would I do, really, what can I do. What if all that happened not to me, dear reader, but you.

I see you lying luxuriously in your fat mattress and warm duvet, oblivious of this suffering and indifferent to those entombed by the misfortune of an unfair world. I see some of you enjoying a drink at pretentious joints in the city sipping you daiquiris and bloody Mary’s and doing what upcoming Kenyans do to feel important.  I’m talking about you guys hanging at the roof top of the Sankara having candle lit dinners and looking down upon your rich ventures and homes too big, unwelcoming and completely unnecessary in the heartlands of our great city. So I ask again, what if you didn’t have a jaw to enjoy those dinners. What if your mouth gaped open and you didn’t have any vestige of confidence to venture out of your house leave alone flaunt your presence like a peacock on heat. What if no one would hire you because you terrified the bejesus out of them and were not the kind of corporate image they wanted to portray. But that’s not you is it? No. That’s Maoga, and sad as it sounds, all this is the situation mother nature has thrust him in and the poor guy has no way of remedying his situation. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. He can’t my fellow beings, and my heart goes out to him.

Because I’m not there, I’m going to do the only thing I can do. I’m going to go into my bank, and if that bank account is empty, I’m going to search every nook in my house until I find some money. Then I’m going to call Savvy, who started the campaign to rejaw Maoga, and I’m going to MPESA her my contribution. Since today I’ve been bestowed with immense prophetic power, I will prophesy as to what you, dear reader, will do in the next few days. You will dip into you pockets, you will extract some notes, any denomination being okay and MPESA it to Savvykenya. Some of you will pass by the ATM and withdrawal a lot of cash. Mostly to go out and have fun but also to MPESA some loose cash to the aforementioned person. Together, we are going to raise the 150K necessary to rejaw maoga. Some day soon, somewhere in Kenya, after a few hours on the operating table, Maoga will smile with gratitude and bless those who give with concern and love. For those who can’t give, may God open his stores and grant you his mercies. And those who refuse to give, karma is a bitch. For further inquiry you can contact Savvy though the number below or me through this number 0724073319

PS.Savvykenya’s  MPESA Number 0727832685

The House warming that was

Its being a while since I’ve being to a house warming party, perhaps due to the guilt, or lack of thereof, for not holding one myself. I have lived in three houses so far and I have never, not even for the purposes of illusion, held a house warming party. Do not confuse my failure with intent to act in miser-hood, or with the heart of a friendless bloke. No, my failure originates from circumstantial inability followed by forgetful habit. But i promise you, dear reader, that the next time life occasions another move, I will hold the biggest party this side of the sahara has ever witnessed. So big will be this party that poets will burn with inspiration to immortalize the occurrence with eternal words and fire the product with metaphorical b lazes in creative kilns. But this is not about my lack of a house warming party, probably the reason why my house feels like a literal igloo, but of a  friend’s house warming party I attended on Saturday.

The venue was Imara Daima which proved advantageous due to its close proximity to my estate. The host had graciously told me to bet here before 7pm but i decided to wait until my other friends were safely tucked within the confines of this untested, untasted and unvisited abode before I tentatively made my way to the same aforementioned haven. 7 pm found me gingerly locking my crib after a day of hard work and stealthily head to the stage. Five minutes later saw me ten shilling poor after an unwilling donation to the conductor and struggling inside a shaky unroadworthy and completely ugly excuse of a PSV hitherto understood to mean pessimistic and Sarcastic looking vehicle, hehe hey its my blog. Alight at Kobil and follow the tarmac road to Imara, simple instructions but the person forgot to say how dusty the misrepresented road actually is. Its a miracle worthy of biblical scripturelization that i my lungs are in good working order after the dusty onslaught which ensured through the rest of that perilous journey to the rendezvous point. But i made it safely and was welcomed with a tight hug, a bowl of delicious pilau with other suspicious and foreign looking concoctions on the side (which I wisely decided to ignore) and a fat glass pregnant with vodka, sprite and ice cubes.

The night progressed well and more revelers sauntered into the room in their full grace as if they were nobility summoned to the court by the famed lover of beautiful people, Queen Elizabeth 1 also known as the Virgin Queen (Long story). But the host was worthy of fame, for her beauty made all other pale in comparison to her beauty and elegance. Clad in a short figure hugging dress which was tasteful and bordered on the elegant side rather than tart. A dress which bespoke of a a deep appreciation of fashion and a clear awareness of her assets; what to flaunt and what to hide. Little make up which highlighted her delicate facial features, her sensuous lips with just a touch of lipstick, her eyes which captivated both the invited and the accursed gate crushers.  Hair made to reflect both class and the barbaric wildness of a jungle lass. A cleavage so subtly revealed its like peaking at highly classified documents whose crime would be death from treason, not against a state, but natural law and the chosen guardian; if any actually is worthy of such privilege.

The mood was beautiful, the setting calling for happiness and forgetting one’s worries; of only for the fleeting glee of a single night of unrestricted happiness. The whole scenario called for looseness, for wildness, for spontaneity, creativity and dropping of all pretense at civility. So we partyd without the awkwardness of strangers at a shindig, for the moment eroded such a possibility, and turned strangers into the best of friends. As alcohol flowed intertwined with music and rhythm, conversations rang through the noise of the amplified boom box sprinkled with crumbs of delicious laughter. Beautiful behinds swayed, big and small, accentuated by hips clad by flattering attire to the dynamism of vivacious music. Bodies clung to each other in appreciation of God’s creations and motivated by beats woven by creativity and sweetened by the intoxication of blessed alcohol. he hours stole past us with the speed of as if carried on top of the very beats which sustained our moods and fuelled the passions of lust, desire and for some of us, friendship.

When the smell of weed drifted to my nostrils, a smell not like the one I was accustomed to in yester years when my brother religiously partook of the illegal pleasures of this metaphorical pot. Driven by curiosity and bound by the spell of the moment, I levitated to the balcony in a style characteristic of a scene in a Tom and jerry  movie. A scene where Jerry would be dragged by the smell of sweet smelling pie, robbed of free will and heading right to the peril of a Cat guarded house. There i was handed some weed inserted on a bamboo filter and shown how to participate in this ageless practice of mind distortion. So i took several puffs and the more I had, the more I wanted. Can tell you why really, at that moment, I didn’t feel anything different.  I hoped it would make me fall down in unrestricted laughter, but yet, all I felt is disappointed. I thought i would strip down naked and go round the room waving the “thing” but again, nothing. A nothingness borne of disappointed expectations, so disillusioned, I went back to the party to seek reenergization which would hopefully yank me back from the miasma of disillusionment and disappointed which the weed had submerged me in. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember how the rest of the night went, or where most of the people went. I remember complaining to my friend about some things, I was all of a sudden pissed beyond control, for no apparent reason. Must be the weed, they warned that might happen, but a whole packet of sweetened mandazi with juice calmed me down. i should keep away from that stuff, well, until the next place I come across some American bred Kenyans bearing weed smoked from bamboo filters, hehe.

The next day was okay, bumming in the house doing nothing much but arguing on which movie is worth watching.Needless to say no movie was good enough to captivate the whole crowd despite by apt protestation when somebody ejected Cowboys and Aliens. The afternoon saw the crew settle on a game instead, spin the bottle to be precise. A game basically borne on a need to test the extent of human bravado and the capacity for honor. Hard questions were asked and crazy dares were made, a crazy game this truly is. a game not best played with your significant half in attendance some of the patrons soon learnt. For me the tricky part was being asked to chose one among three ladies, all of them with boyfriends around, and proceed to have a three minute passionate kiss. I’m sure none of you, dear reader, want to hear how that played out, what’s with all eyes clearly focused on the event and the lady asked when the bottle next settled on how whether she enjoyed the kiss. All in all, it was a great party and we are thankful to Betty, out host.

 

Settling down: my rebutal

My friends have been trying to dissuade me from the path which I’m ready to take, a path apparently so scary to them that they couldn’t wish such a fate for me. Every time I utter those words, I see them take a defensive position as if the very devil has invaded our holy space. Its like I’m Arthur, and they are the knights of the holy table, ready to slay any dragon which threatens to snatch me from their careful watch. They bare their fangs at that one who would infringe on their way of life, the one supposedly, who will break apart a friendship based on mutual respect and convenience. The one who would take me away and for life, keep me locked down in her embrace, and in my domain which would be hers to control. Ladies and gentleman, she would be my missus, and no one, has lent a supporting hand towards my endeavors.

Anyway, lets discard of this hypocritical attempt at attaining literal flow in describing an issue which should be simple and not worthy of such talents. For some time now, I’ve been looking forward to settling down with a nice girl and ridding myself of this lonely cloak called bachelorhood. My friends on the other hand have united to wage war against this ambition and have made it out to be a proverbial situation of digging my own grave. When did we as a society start viewing marriage as a dungeon rather than a sacred institution which fosters well being, happiness and perpetuation of sacred life. For them, I’m either too young or haven’t enjoyed life as much as I should. Well, at least in their distorted point of view. But regardless of their opinions, and i do care for it, my life remains my life last time I checked. The croaking of frogs does not stop an elephant from drinking water, no pun intended. So sooner than later I will surprise them with the good news that I have found my self “a jiko.”

I’m not a player neither I’m I a bad boy. This shouldn’t matter but it does if only to understand the mind frame of some of the most vocal opponents. These are pals who have a beautiful girl every other day in their house keeping them company and partaking of the proverbial honey. All that fun while I wallow in loneliness and melancholy in my house, cold, bored and depressed. They have a warm meal prepared with love while I nibble at my indifferent bread and sip of my forlorn cup of sadness. They sweat with passion while I shiver in the suppressed memory of satiated desire. They cuddle against milky soft flesh while darkness stalks my sole form in a house designed for two. So when I climb the stairs and I hear the laughter, the smell of spices in kitchens, the moans of love as they creep their way into my unwilling ears, I wish i had a missus of my own. This is not a whim, its a wish which refuses to leave my being, an idea which took root and continues to grow whether watered or not.

But the world seems to have conspired with my friends to deny me this one wish. I can feel fate throw his head back in laughter, a laughter of malice and sarcasm. That I would be denied of a suitable mate while thousands flock Nyayo to pray for a suitable husband. When ladies keep whining of the supposed lack of suitable men to settle down with. Sad really when every where I go I see men with suitable girls dying to settle down with them and the imps are more bent on chasing after other skirts and the pursuit of hedonism. But such is life, a life which the wise claims, gives you  what you need rather than what you want. So, if this has any shred of truth, it must mean that life doesn’t mean for me to settle down yet. In the meantime, she is the best alternative to a wife right now, better even. I can see the curiosity in your minds dear readers, but that is a story for another time. A story I believe is not mine but hers to tell.

The effect of changing jobs

I came across this post from a friend in the domain popularly known as facebook. i thought it was hilarious and I decided to share with the few guests who make the effort to visit this abode on a regular basis.

A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question.

The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up
on the footpath, and stopped centimeters from a shop. For a second
everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said:
“Look mate, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights
out of me!?
The passenger apologized and said,
“I didn’t realize that a little tap would scare you so much.”
The driver replied,
Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver -
I’ve been driving a mortuary van for the last 25 years.”……….. )