posts hanging on my wall

“A friend is someone we turn to

when our spirits need a lift,

A friend is someone we treasure

for our friendship is a gift,

A friend is someone who feels our lives

with beauty, Joy and grace

And makes the whole world we live in

a better place. ”

Second post:

“Strugling is the true meaning of life,

Victory and failure are in the hands of God,

So man must enjoy in struggling.”

Third post:

“Success is not judged by the money one’s made but by the kind of family one has raised.”

Fourth post:

“Sex hapana tumechill.

Ni poa kuchill.”

That last one I don’t know who put it there.

When to hold on and when to let go-part 2

last time i asked about the above question, cognizant of the fact that relationship matters are complex and subjective. Just like beauty is in the eyes of a beholder, how to respond to an ailing relationships depends on the people and circumstance of the commitment. Experience plays a major role too in influencing personal decisions on whether to hold on or not. People who have held on in the past and yet suffered the pain of subsequent break up will tell you that its not worth it to do so. The few who have held on and have had a taste of blissful future will urge you to fight on even though the present feels like walking on a mine field whereby the mines keep going off on a daily basis. For me, i don’t think its worth it to hold on when all pointers and instincts tell you that it won’t work. you might delude your self or bury your head in the sand like an ostrich but the disease will eat up all that remains and the result will be a painful death. Sometimes, I advocate for relationship euthanasia whereby a quick painless death is the first step towards resurrection.

Another minor milestone

Life is full of many opportunities and challenges and sometimes we have to smile when we succeed in passing a milestone. last time, I was overjoyed to get a blog traffic of over 200 in a day. Today, I’m happy because I got listed as a commonwealth correspondence and can have a large platform to share my opinions on issues that affect our society. In fact I seem to be the only listed correspondent from Kenya and I’m sure there will be some to follow later. I’m not calling it an achievement just tan opportunity to do y bit in trying to make our world a better place. On the downside, there is no monetary gain that accompanies the enlistment, but there might be some benefits.

According to the commonwealth website, There are many benefits of becoming a Correspondent:

  • It can be hugely satisfying to know your articles are being read by other young people all around the world.
  • It’s also a way of making friends and learning new things.
  • Your articles may influence opinion across the Commonwealth and within governments (they will certainly be read by lots of senior people at the Commonwealth Secretariat).
  • It is a great thing to add to your resume/curriculum vitae – likely to impress future employers and university tutors.

I’m placing the links to two of my currently published articles. Kindly take some time to go through and if time allows, leave a comment there.

http://www.yourcommonwealth.org/africa/correspondence-hospital-halls-of-despair-and-death/

http://www.yourcommonwealth.org/africa/correspondence-i-mourn-for-kenyas-forgotten-brothers/

You should probably use internet explorer to open the links, Mozilla seems to fail in that front.

When to let go, n when to hold on- part 1

Love is a complex ideal and any attempt to delve in its discourse is filled with pitfalls and subjective innuendos that are neither verifiable nor validifiable (this one I conjured it up). To try and understand it is like the proverbial rich man trying to enter heaven and being slapped with the assertion that it would be easier for one of his fat camels to go through an eye of a needle than for him to succeed in that endeavor. Though he might try, the vanity of his worldly wealth would be too much for him to overcome and humility but a pit through which he pees and as such cant stoop as low as to eat from it. So no, this is not about the ideal of love but about the separation of those who are together; because of love or whatever forces that unite them.After all, the Greek gods deed declare in their infinite wisdom that the best way to punish a man is to give him what he wants.

All of us have been in relationships, okay most of us adults anyway who are not caught up in the vanity of pure promiscuity and playing/dogging is not a lifestyle. We have been through the joys of a fulfilling relationship and the frustration of a shaky shitty one. We have been in relationship for love or infatuation while in many other times, coercion and lust. In other times pity has driven us to the insanity of commitment and ended up tearing apart the souls of all concerned. We have laughed together, happy like intoxicated elephants feasting on that blessed alcoholic tree. yet pain has been part of the package and our lives sometimes reduced to worry and hurt in the hands of uncaring, unloving and unsympathetic spouses. But the most important question that i want to pose is, “When do you let go of a relationship that is not working and when do you choose to fight for what once was beautiful?”

acacia, the devil’s hang out

Ladies and gentleman, i ask for your forgiveness in my current inability to write a post full of substance and creativity. I want to, no i yearn to with my whole being; but my upper faculties have deserted me and the only recourse open to me is to indulge you, with tales of a place where madness rules and decency is forbidden to enter. Some of you would know this place, Acacia camp, just past galleria on your way to the expansive Rongai. Just I heard someone comment that “the mzungu who owns that place seems to have visited mtu wa kamuti.” This statement was made by an addict, not of alcohol or even drugs, but of the forbidden pleasures housed by the confines of this devil’s den.

The place on a ordinary day is unassuming, simple even under the glare of the all knowing sun. Its supposed to be a camping ground with a bar where patrons can sip a cold one as they take a reprieve from the simplicity of a tent and retreat from the onslaught of thirst and boredom. And every time I passed by the place, it never hit me that its a joint that has found fame among the young who thrive on intoxication and excitement and the older gents who crave for a taste of youth and an exploitation of those who are too worldly to see sense in moderation. And every Thursday night, the devil packs his lucify tent and heads to acacia, and his flock come in multitudes to enjoy the hype that he has prepared for them. And don’t they come, the simple and complicated. The rich and paupers. The beautiful and not so beautiful. The curious and the veterans. In hundreds they pack the grounds of acacia, like wildebeests in the expansiveness of the savanna. And among this peaceful animals, dressed in sheepskin mingles the predators. Lions stalking the unsuspecting or even the suspecting prey, canines showing, claws ready to pounce on the best looking birds among the large flock.

So this Thursday, having sat politely in the company of friends in many occasions and reveling in the wild tales of this hideout, I decided to indulge my curiosity and pay homage to the devil last Thursday. I pick a jav at railway, 100 bob being the exorbitant fare. I decide since its around 7 to make my way to ronga town first seeing as it is my tummy is groaning and throwing a bitchy fit due to abandonment. Honey pot is the joint of choice for affordable food and even drinks, so i walk there briskly before my tummy riots. I order some half chicken which is fried with spinach and full raw bananas with ugali to accompany this sumptuous meal. My pal, probably eager to reach Acacia and partake of its menu before the hyenas reach the scene refuses to come share the meal and asks me to get him there. The meal is so delicious but way too much for one person, good thing is some poorly looking dude comes by and asks for a piece and I’m glad to hand him some if only to help lessen the sweet burden. Churchill is on point as always and someone needs to wean me of this habit, whereby Thursday finds me in a pub to watch the comedy since my crib tv had a long time quarrel with ntv.

Acacia was wild, well atleast that’s the first impression I had of the place. There are two things that hit me first as I approached the gate, and made me wary of the place that i now sought to enter. I wondered about an advise I heard from one of the self professed addict, “keep away from that place, for those who enter, they become slave of the one who sits at the high table.” maybe not in those exact words, but for a guy who only parties once a week, an always here, it was weighty advise on my estimation. I digress so let me retrace back to the gate, where a bevy of seriously bootylicious chics were heading to the gate. When some fool said that the beautiful ones are yet born, this nigger needs to make his way to that place. This were young shapely African ladies looking hot as hell and knowing it by the air of self confidence surrounding them like bewitched body guards. And they were many of them, drawn from the several universities around the place, campuses like catholic and Nazarene.The second thing was the motor madness, the craze of deprived drivers seeking to find satiety for what ails them; lust. That place has a large ground, and it was packed with all state of the art vehicles, some of which were clearly driven by young guys who couldn’t possibly own a jallopy. Here perception is everything and a borrowed or stolen vehicle is better than the bloke sauntering into the club on foot, or even a bicycle God forbid. A guy has to wait for one vehicle to exit the ground before security will allow another in, and one who is not privy to the goings on of the place might be tempted to think that its a car bazaar. For any of you jallopyed guys who might be tempted to make a visit there on a Thursday, kindly make your appearance before dark or suffer the indignity of parking outside the gate and miss out on the convenience of staying strategically placed in the field where the prey can find you easily and be reeled in by the allure of the Moti.

On making my way into the gates, the sheer number of people overwhelms me; never mind that it’s on a damn Thursday. Hundreds of gents and ladies, thousands even. this place has an orgy look to it, as if the people come here to participate in group orgies. I couldn,t help but stare briefly at this dude sitting on the bonnet of his car, fondling two very beautiful ladies and the vixens seemed to be enjoying the unnatural scene. I hurriedly moved past, trying to make my way though the sea of humanity and squeeze my way into the packed club. I call my pal who picks me at the entrance and weaves a path through the gyrating women and the men busy dancing if it can be called that, for its more likely to be considered sexual foreplay than dancing. I didn’t know such a room could hold so many people, and there is not nearly enough seats or even tables to host the great multitude and people are just content to drink standing anywhere they find a spot to put their beer on.

The indoor club is simple, very simple and one can’t quite understand the allure of this place considering the ilk of the people attending here. The table i stood, no seats remember, was surrounded by women and soon they were all over the place shaking what their mama gave them. And dear tree, notice my attempt to avoid blasphemy, these ladies could dance. There is nothing these mamas couldn’t do, and try as one might, one couldn’ stop staring at the obscene ways this mamas flaunted their wares and in the words of one Avril and Marya “chokozad.” But the guys were having none of that “chokoza only” vibe and were busy fondling the inebriated and even sober ladies with abandon and i never saw, not once, any lady protest. And that night, I moaned the loss of decency that was once the Kenyan soceity, and looking at the sight before me, i knew that the devil had conquered; well atleast here in the seclusion of Acacia.

In this place, the rules that apply to the rest of the clubs in the country cease to exist. here guys bring most of the alcohol from outside and no body raises an eyebrow. here there are no bouncers to frisk you for weapons or such. Here alcohol is cheap and people are free to drink as much as their hearts desires. And they do so to the fullest, and it was common to see beautifully dressed ladies staggering and loosing the battle with gravity, fall to the pavements of humiliation and embarrassment. I watched with pity as I saw clearly drunk ladies struggling to hold their blacked out friends only to go down in a heap of bodies, and no one cared. here the dj plays all manner of obscene and wild music, and intones to the revelers that if you are tired of dancing, go ahead and do the business. And the young revellers scream with delight, and the young gents become daring in their multiple exploration of the female species. i sat there and watched, transfixed and scared, and I ignored the subtle advances of some of the ladies, choosing to rise beyond male lust and instead respect their dignities, or at least stay apart from the devilish hold upon these lost generation. here the ladies move closer when a random guy pulls a passing lady close, and is all over her skimpily dressed body; pressing close to let the demons explore every nook and curve in her splendidly formed body. When you step out for fresh air, you can see into the vehicles and have your gaze held by the rhythmic motions of those who inhabit the vehicles, as they perform the eternal dance of passion; unafraid or bothered by the hundreds of patrons in the grounds. When the club closes at 11, you can see the ladies bundled into the vehicles and off to different locations, possibly to participate in after party orgies.

A gentleman

There is a lack of gentlemen in the world today, made so perhaps due to the changes that have made the concept redundant. But is such a concept truly possible under the onslaught of modernity and the social upheavals that have turned the world upside down. I have learnt that today being a nice guy does not sell, and people will prey upon it to further their agendas without the least bit consideration for your welfare. In other words, a nice guy is a modern slave under the manipulation and exploitation of hedonistic and selfish people bent on perpetuation of self interest with no regard to brotherly love. People will use you when it furthers their welfare and reduces their burden, ostensibly reducing you to the rank of mule when it suits. But in times when they hold the key to pleasure of other rewards, they’ll choose to bestow those favors upon other similar flock and let the nice guy wallow in self pity and perpetual loneliness.

I’m i a gentleman? i don’t really know, for i am a complex individual with tendencies influenced by mood and preference. I’m I a nice guy, most of the times depending on history and chance. Do i like being a gentleman or nice guy, when the enticement of fate favors the emergence of this sides of my split personality. The answer is two fold, and even this changes depending on the outcome of the liaison on which fate used as a vehicle to inspire this reemergence. I love being a gentleman when this side is born of love and adoration. To do it due to societal obligation or a need to impress is not in me, and hence a person who can’t touch any chord in my heart will never bear witness to this side of me. As for being nice, I accord all individuals this privilege the first time and if abused, i turn vile and distasteful and shower the cause with scorn and resentment. i am like a samurai sword, sharp on both ends and can turn from one end to the other in one swift act. And woe unto you who cause this change, and pray that your scrawny legs can carry you swift like the wind.

But what really defines a gentleman? Pulling a chair for a lady in a restaurant? Opening a car door for her every time you have the pleasure of her company, and the privilege of owning a jalopy as Biko likes to call a vehicle. This reminds of an interesting quote from a magazine “When you see a man open the car door for his wife; either its a new car or a new wife.” This statement brings significant criticism to the cannon of chivalry and goes to show that acts meant to define a gentleman are simply sugar coating meant to snare a naive and beautiful trophy. It is not of its own noble, and is aimed at the achievement of a hidden agenda which might be tied to the hedonistic principle of the pursuit of pleasure. So, some gentleman might be a clever player who understands that in the competitive fie;d of play, the bad boy side is saturated with masters and that his odds are better by changing sides to the least explored sides of the gentleman. a lady tired of the scorn visited upon them by the bad boy will be easy prey to the charms of the gentleman wanna be and sooner before you can say kaboom, she’ll be laid then laid aside and left bewildered and traumatized. So who is worse, the player who used her first or the gentleman who preyed on her pain to repeat the harm done her and cause her irreparable damage.

So I will pull a chair for you, if my heart demands that i do so. i will do all the small things that define a gentleman, if my emotions stir at your very presence. i will give you my sweater on a cold day if the very thought of being next to you warms my heart. i will offer to cater to all bills if im besieged by the beauty of thinking of a future with you in it. I will be romantic, if doing so might make me find a place in the jewel that is your heart. Do I do this because I’m a gentleman, or even a nice guy? The answer is a resounding no. I do it because I’m driven by personal interest, an interest to become some important in her life so as to make my mundane living tolerable. And he reduced number of gentleman’s is a reflection of the low standards society have set nowadays, and one no longer has to be anything in order to secure his self interest. a guy just needs to have money and the women will flock to him. Some just needs to be good looking and you can watch the ladies fall over themselves trying to catch the bastard’s eyes. All a man needs to do nowadays is look like an eye candy or flash some cheddar and the mama’s come running as if trying out for the Olympics. tell me then, dear reader, why anyone would go to the longevity of gentlemanly when there are so many easier routes to the same destination.

strictly over 25

yesterday was Thursday, we all know that. I also want you to be forewarned that this post is not intellectual, and the contents here might be offensive to several people. if you are among these persons who are easily offended by absurdity, kindly refrain from venturing into the mine fields that is this post. But if you insist on going through the contents contained here, i apologize if the words cause discomfort and offense and call for more restraint on your part next time. For this is not my story but the story of an anonymous couple having their idea of fun at a favorite city joint under the full glare of a bored crowd.

The day started just like any other day, the only exception being the lack of morale to do some work and earn some cheddar. So me and my cousin decide to “piga roundi mtaani” and our first stop is another cousins home to say hi to the sweet niece. And since “mkono mtupu haulabwi” we pass by the fish joint and buy some tender cuts for the young one to nibble while the grown up engage in meaningless conversation about this and that. About four pm we made our way to the city and linked up with another pal, Mahawk. For those of you who might be inclined to think that this is an Indian Immigrant from the Indian tribes of the US, his name originates from the Mahawk hair style he prefers, against my continued protests. So we chilling at bettys, chatting about this and that; football and women mostly. Every time I go to Bettys i choose this table that has a clear sight of the entire club and a guy can feast on all the beautiful mamas strolling in the club displaying their very beautiful wares.

Other pals saunter in and now our table is fully packed, the only peculiarity of the table being lack of any femininity both in gender or characteristic. A boys night out if you like, a peculiar thing since I’m not used to the ideal of being in a club with a bunch of dudes and no female company to temper the concentration of testosterone. But it was one of those days when ideas are being thrown around bout this and that, from business to politics to the dynamics of today’s relationship. Just when we were bout to leave the club, our shallow pockets crying bloody murder, shooing us out to the loneliness of our bachelor pads, this student leader from main comes over. Apparently he knows one of my pals and din’t that guy have some mad chooms to burn on dem alcoholic drinks. So before long the table is full of drinks, and we are like 8 guys so you can imagine four rounds must near the 5k bracket. And just like that, when we thought the better part of the night was the Churchill show, betty’s turned into Lidos.

My eyes were riveted on a lady on the lower section of the club, a sight worthy of any man’s attention. let me give you a brief idea about this sight from a dream, in a club full of beautiful women, she still stood out from the rest of the flock. Im not sure beautiful is the right word to use here, for what she evoked was not admiration. She was sexy, gorgeous and every other word that makes a man’s lust glands go into over drive. She was hot, so much that the club felt like a furnace and men fidgeted in their seats wondering what raised the temperatures that high. She oozed of sexuality, the aura so intoxicating you could feel the unease as the helpless males tried to trace the object of their discomfort. Dressed completely in white, from her clothes to the shoes; she gave a deceptive image of angelic innocence. Her white miniskirt hugging her ample hips and her well formed behind like the embrace of a lover reunited after long periods of sexual deprivation. And men, din’t the men in that club ogle at that booty, and the tv and music could have been switched off and no one would have noticed.

But there is so much guys can stare and our interest waned, and back to our conversations we all went. But not for long. A few black ices afterwords, our lady decided that it was time to get down and boogie. And Wololo when she “tingishad” and “tetemeshad” the whole club went mum. I could feel all the men, like moths drawn to the light, shift all their attention to watch the movement of that eternal motion of pure bliss. i have seen women shake their asses before, in parties and clubs; sometimes in my dreams too. But I don’t think I’v ever seen, at least in the near past,an ass shaken so well. i could think of several theme songs that could better accompany that scene, shake it like a salt shaker, you wish ur galfriend was hot like me, kelis milk shake and im sure you guys can think of better songs; anyway i digress.

When she moved it was like watching a beautiful butterfly take flight and watch its perfectly colored wings flap through the air. When she moved it up and down, it was like in that simple act, she managed the miracle of stopping time. And when she got down, well, the lust thermometer shoot up the roof and men would have laid all their assets to take her home; except me that is. And when her boy decided to put his hands all over that ass, I could feel the murderous intent of men suddenly bound by a savage hand of jealousy and envy. We wanted to satisfy our male fantasies without the hindrance of some potbellied guy hindering our sights and interfering with the sexual gyrations of this sex siren.

Then the alcohol really took over and the sports club turned into a strip club. One stockinged leg went over the shoulders of the guy and that ass went round and round, up and down before the face of the guy. And that lady can shake it, so picture that sight of the lady, her hands clutching the sit before her, her ass facing the seated guy, one leg thrown over his shoulder and shes moving as if her whole life depended on it. The effect, the whole club cheered. Yesterday was the only time in my life i ever saw one couple, stop the ordinary goings of a packed club, rush from their seats to witness the sexual gyrations of an intoxicated couple. So the whole club is cheering them on, so like a great performer enjoying her 1 minute of fame, she gives us the best performance of her life. before long the mini starts riding up her thighs, until her white panty is visible to all who cares to watch; and at this juncture it was everyone. “jesus” i could hear the astonished remarks of a hapless gentleman after realizing that the lady had no intention of stopping to adjust the skirt, and didn’t us guys relish the sight of that ample behind clad in the white panty draped over the stockings moving to the beats. The older guys quickly fled from the scene, perhaps wondering whether their beloved daughters engaged in similar escapades without their knowledge.

It took the intervention of the dj to end this sweet fiasco, for the bouncers were content to stand back and wallow in the pit of gleeful lust evoked by the unfolding scenario. So we all go back to the calm and boredom of ordinary conversations, momentarily annoyed by the attack on our entertainers for the night. But that act seems to have raised the horniness levels of our two actors and what ensued was a scene from a teen movie, the kind that have strict adult only ratings. It started with the mad kissing, with the lady sitting on the lap of the guy with her legs firmly intertwined behind the guys back. After a while our lady become the yellow pages, for the guys fingers started walking all over her. When i say the guy explored her, I’m not exaggerating. From her neck down went the hands to rest momentarily on her perfectly shaped bosom, taking each in his hands as if to examine the quality of those organs of pleasure. Shock on us when the lady pulled down the top part of the dress, tugged her bra to let loose those breasts. i could remember the breaths of several spectators catch, and the eyes pop out s if pushed from within. Firm breasts the color of milk, or was it, i was too busy staring to notice the color. i did notice the big nipples, i wonder if that’s their size or she was just…….

First the guy stroked them, them firmly squeezing them with relish. before my yes could brink, for fear that they would be quickly returned to the safety of their keep, the dudes mouth was all over those nipples; what he was doing to them, ill leave at the convenience of your own imagination. Aware that every one was staring, at this juncture no one was even pretending to be doing anything else and those without a view had walked over to the ledge to watch, they stopped their pursuits. Five minutes dint pass and the lady went back to dancing, this time doing some complex dance moves whilst she raised her skirt up to the point where her panty was visible. I’m willing to bet any man that no stripper can do what she was doing, expert dancing while teasing the hormones of the men around, showing enough to cause our imaginations to over heat as they raced there and there, mostly all over her.

I think I better end this story here, for i could go on and on about the scene that i had the pleasure to behold. i have to let you know that when she tired of the gyration, and she sat down next to her man, the drama dint stop, and neither did it disappoint. His hands were clearly visible as the ventured inside her skirt, with her aiding our view by pulling up her skirt to the waist level. We could see his hands massage that soft flesh between her thighs, and watch her close her eyes and make what we imagined to be soft moans of pleasure, moans sadly drowned by the loud music of the club. And then, in a flash, but not too first that the club din’t capture the moment, the guy went down on her. Yes, before the glare of the lights, under the gave of a hundred yes, his lips sought the honey pot and for a few seconds, did his thing. I thought I was beyond shock at this moment but that right there, it shocked me. never in my imagination did i expect to ever see a man, go down on a lady, with hundreds of guys watching his every move. And the little twat enjoyed it, it was so clearly visible by the movements of her body and the expression of her lips. After the guy came back for air, the lady decide enough is enough and down shot her hand, and for the next minutes, proceeded to stimulate herself until (and this is my just opinion) she came.