A "Raila" Christmas

Great season, great time, here we say teremsha na marafiki...........\

This is the season for the professionals, not those

one who go to be taught how to do things , it is the season for the chicken killers! Yep that is just what came out of my mouth, chiken killers, to master the art,,,, you got to have speed, the ability to wring its neck so fast that before it quacks, the heart has stoppped.....and then chicken killer are follwed by chiken feather removers........then chicken roasters.... then chiken eaters.......which prbably brings down the whole chain to anyone i can bet the dice on, maybe you, maybe me, maybe its the guy sitting next to you, we somehow find the audacity to fall anywhere in the chain......maybe you have lost me, here turkeys are big chrismass woven stories that you can sell to anyone for a penny.....I aint never seen one in my Ma's kitchen...so chiken way we go.......

You have a great time, here, I know am a chicken leg thrower which translates to , for every chicken that will go down this season actually to be specific in our homestead I will be doing the honours of throwing the leg to the ancestors!!!

Tasted and proven!

We are moving forward to and closer to 2007 elections, my case rests there but am a little bit confused when it comes to this bug called political aspirant bug, I would rather go down as result of malaria!
Ok maybe am a little bit extravagant with my words there, malaria as I hear from people who dont have the opportunity to enjoy immunity from it as a result of overexposure, might not be so happy to talk about it, it becomes a matter of life and death! this political bug am talking about, once it bites you, down you go with frequent reoccurences, now in the future, the zeal to , and the great depth of visual dreams foreseen by the political aspirant even when hope for redemption and success is as bleak, as...u name it
Well the political bug makes you borrow as much as you can, with the hope that a win is closer, then small hopes become big hopes and even seeing the village witch becomes a night venture, some spirit protection from eventual enemies who dont see you as the next Member of Parliament. Then bury this bone under your bed......carry the concotion around to prot6ect urself!

Underscore

Am obviously from East Africa but I have issues with my inability to speak proper Kiswahili, I never realized that before setting up camp with fellow regionmates from Tanzania last week. What I speak is corrupted kiswahili and the level of corruption is doubteless. Whatever brought us under one hut was not good times it was a funeral, and you are well aware that where Aunt Nera and I come from, funerals have a second name, theyare called the last wedding, translate it to...when we see you off, we do it with the intention of proving food insecurity is a foreign word in the village. First we budget for your coffin, this days it has got to white.......shows you werent doing so badly here on earth, and your worth our penny. Then if you decided to meet your maker in the city, we have to take you bak to where your umblical cord is buried, bak inyour village!

This is a tough one becoz some corpses become so bright that they refuse to go.....so in this case, we stop the hearse car, get your body out of the casket, and change the direction of your body, especially the head, once you figure out we are headed bak to the city all is well. Am not sure any of you is getting this right, it sounds so simple, but convincing a rebel who abandoned his village for city life that he is been taken bak home is the business....of the wise and the elderly...and it can last up to 6hrs. Its hard for me to convince you, but am in africa, am in Kenya, I know my people from the village dead people see....and hear, or else Black Magic isnt dead. I know the good Book, but I also know my people.

The final thing we do, is we make sure food will be in plenty, food for in-laws, food for the clan, the village has to see you off. A cow has to die, in this particular case, then we feast for three days. The first one is when we get you home, and everyone wants to be sure, if the city people were playing some joke on them that they have now lost one of the umblical cords forever, then they cry asking you, how you could decided to leave them so early, some cry are genuiine, and others well..... civilisation has made crying so hard sometimes that we just hire the proffessional mourners....their maximum time on crying is usually guaranteed upto 12hrs on and off. Then we eat ....occassionally cry......grumble about how food is not enough, explain how you lived in plenty so we have to see you off in the same way...then we eat....

on the second day which is usuall tougher...because its the day of physically enjioning you to the ancestors, we eat first, then talk about you, those who went to nursery with you, your family, those who knew you from sunday school.......we talk about you......then we take you to rest it should be on the second day running, then we eat..........talking about you

At night we play full blast music and eat all night long, and dance , and talk about you again, this time we try to accept everything, that the world is so hard to live in, that times are so tough, that its just as well, The Boss Upstairs could not have called you at a better time, you needed an early rest...then we eat....... and disperse ....expecting to meet again in death anniversary...where we will eat again..........

Where in the ancestors name is food insecurity?

Jamm-Huri Day

Sounds like Miuru Bay if you quesotion me. Am all en-thu-sia-stic about it, nervous on one end , relaxed on another one, and just cool overall. The Boss upstairs must have alot of files to peruse, take a look at my case, here is Wyb-er all guns out with it, in touch with the Boss come 27th, pleads his case, Boss we have been so sidelined, you marginalized us when you gave us land that experiences silent drought most of the time, but there is a Moses in me, finally here to save my people from the lowself esteem inflicted on them by other big clans in this country or so they say! But I have come so that my people may finally have a respectable say in the continent! Well said, but another file arrives in the in-tray.

Boss c'mon, my Dad tried this thing sometime ago and Bless his Soul he rested without winning the throne, Boss my clansman Mboya almost got it, if its not for the fact that the goons shortchanged the script, now I have become of Age , You said your are going to bless them thru their 3rd and 4th generation, fulfil the word Boss, its now or never!

Tuendele case finally arrives, Boss kazi lazima iendelee....... wafunge ama wa PANUA..kazi iendelee, mangoto ama mapumbaf! Kazi lazima iendelee.

Ok am over my head with that, but whatever other excited voters there might be uko nje.......patriotism is not to be begged, be patriotic and we hope the State Head this time, will not as last time......be offside on his plea to us in stadaI

JIeM advantage

My instincts at times just tell me go with it...take it on...u know just let it flow. Like this instinct I have had to become a legal member of JIeM. Again I will make assumptions becoz my time here has been short and well Aunt Nera is just the type of Aunt who frequents the religious dens, to be specific her denomination doesnt belong to the religious giants of this city , as a result of which its hard to expect her of meeting the Creator on the daily lineup in Family' tV. Well that is not to say since I dropped my future corps in town, I have had some bigtime tour in almost every church, that was not my intention at first...nada... but you know how Nita is, didnt think she is a goer....mmmh.....a churchgoer but she suprised me yet performed below par when I discovered she is related to the nomads by action. She is a spiritual shifta! In days and hey when great tempts are making great men of God focus so much on giving scriptures, and justifying how big the house of God is that no one should not expect their feet to be washed....... you also have to fish for a good postor'! One who would baptise your folks without much question on your commitment to the body of J.C, one who wouldnt mind perfoming your burial service as long as your name appears in the tithe and offering book, clear and neat.
That aside I want to join JIeM, well because my instincts are very strong on this one...just like hips dont go lying, neither do my in-stincts.......KCB has an advantage, so does Safaricom...... JIeM is expecting one soon.........when 27 comes to pass!

Great hah ha! Nairobi muscle

I know all this village in me stuff can put anyone off, but there are times when I think even a villager has class, and villagers can also find their ground here in the midst of all this urbanity that I c. Wy i would choose to deviate from this normal talk of all the things I know from growing up in the country, I would say I have seen a lot of polished outlook in persons I would definately deem to be the lower class of anysetup be it in the village or here in the city , take it like this manners should be a property of anyone living, an asset if am sure.
Njoroge is his name, I place a stamp of no manners on him quite because he behaved with no manners........ dressing doesnt deliver character, I dont need my grandma- to drum it into my head. Why in the ancestors name would anyone ask me if I like what I c in them inside 3 minutes of bumping into them on the roadside. Now if am to meet you , and all this abuses ladies hurl at men just because somebody said hallo to them, brings them a few classes below the most uncouthed villager I know. On the other hand replying to a greeting doesnt make me lose my teeth....but to read more into that......is the climax of lack of manners. The next time anyone asks me....if I like what I see, I will be forced to be blunt....to say I think they are not long enough.......... I will say they dont have enough muscle to tick me on, i will say i dont see a pride of lions in him, I will just have to bring out the supressed recessive genes of uncouthness into the fore, because Nairobi men are dissappointing in scoring points with a woman even if its just for the purpose of getting an easy lay....... maybe they finally get there, but they lack the art to increase the frequency of success on this front, and the villager in me doesnt have to be smart enough to figure it out! Its pathetic!

Trues

Night running is an art perfected by time, like that Old msee Onsongo, everyone knows he does it, bot in the village , in the city. Its hard to know this thing if you were not brought up with them, now who in anyones name, would decide to place some of his inside intestine byproducts in the middle of the common bathroom? Who would do that?

I know what Aunt Nera says, people without manners, there is no issue of manners there, even in the village we differentiate between...a place to wash your future corpse, and a place to drop the droppings, you need not have attended school to figure it out. But that Onsongo the suspect, is just doing what all Aunt Nera's neighbours should know! This is a long lesson even if you want to learn it, night running has different departments, one of them just to mention is geared towards creating fear, other include, disgust, entertainment, competition, and finally completion of an inherited mission. Unless you understand all this department, you just like our neighbours here, will be lost and blaming everything on lack of manners, is what the white washed city dwellers would say, a villager like me...... I know better!!

Night Runners

I dont want to assume no everyone know what night runners do, nor do i assume not that alrite night runners are not only found in my village but maybe in your they just have different names. The West lies sometimes, but only sometimes, like they come, they find my people with decent occupations, occupations passed down from father to son...husband to wife...mother to daughter......a very legal and proper machinations of events, and they turn around and say........night running is primitive, evil, now will anyone ask them Prince they have in that country to turn around and box his father and tell him, you keep that crown, all this aint right....! Didnt think anyone would say yes
Night running is an inheritance, owed and deemed to be accepted and to be used in the generation that go beyond the crown holder of the time...am cut short a little here...but ...for now yeah..hold it, there!

One man One Hill

And it aint a lie, not if you know what night runners can do?

Zipping up.....

Aint no much to write.........not today anyways...been out of that city and it does feel good, am now fresher than, and smarter than, breath all that air and pay for you to live in that town in the name of life in the city, I rather my village blood remains here, inside my insides, and in the village, where we dont count no fish no......not the way they sell it there, I mean I stood in for aunt Nera all this time and you sell them fish like they have toe nails......food insecurity i call, how no one plants not even onion in them pots is just out of my mind think tank, a peny for fish , a penny for flour and a penny for going to empty your bowels , I would rather here my empties drop down the hole...tup.... tup...tup, a thousand miles down, but all fre...e...e to do that

Cat Chase

On the lakeside

Give some credit to this village town but am sure enjoying the scenery and its not the Coast ehe....its the lakeside village....... visiting one of my uncles village who just might have some big name sooner and I no want to look like I was never suppportive!

On the road again

I will be going to the village again...and this time i promised, that fish has to drop in the city when I donjo bak here. The problem with nai-ro-bians, when I say fish little baby fishes come to their minds. When I say fish, fish is absolutely what I mean, and am not a hyperactive person so I wont throws tantarum on the refusal of nbairobians to accept, but I will suggest that when I next post a fish on this site, it will be a fish indeed and use of a ruler will be allowed, figures wont not be drawn to scale
So I leave it at that, my great grandfathers always said when you are begin a great walk you dont leave like you are going to meet you mothe- in-law! Oh yeah I guess have lost you on that too, i understand, what it means is , mother in laws are very precious and respected people, to be honest to look your mother in law in the eye, is an abomination....... even if she dies, you cant just stare at her naked grave , we cover it with banana leaves, but you know all this technology business so now we do it with...nice new sheets!

Kapsul

One thing I like about Kapsul is the amount of rabuon (sweet potatoes) there, and the prices for it, the best you can get if you ask me. its not like this town business I go see here in the city, like those kenchic place, why would kenchic grow its own chicken and then turn around as if it dint grow it not and charge price over the roof for it? It make no sense, completely, but that market in kapsul , those people are sure proud of what they produce, a whole bucket of them rabuon, I bought for finje (50bob) and I count no nyongesa.
If I made someone happy it sure was Aunt Nera she couldnt stop to tell me how when she once lived in U-ganda, there was more food that you couldnt repeat what you ate last month before full moon comes and goes. Here ugali talks, call it maize cake if you want, but dont go cukn it like cake!! Ugali jana. leo. keso. mtondogoo, keso kutwa............, Ugalki just talks, ever been here, if they did not offer you ugali and something, probably you proved to much to integrate....in the long run. so now we gone have those rabuons for morning fast break, and supper too, and ancestors forbid.....lunch! That must be greater than......maybe not but it does make you stronger than again, one thing i should mention clear, is if you like gulping down anything, this you dont gulp, ask Okiege the village food thief, he learnt it the hard way, he was never caught but the Sweet potatoe finally caught him, and killed him via blocking his throat!

Kapsul Kabondo (At a glance)

Sunset at Mara

Kirinyaga rd

I had for the last few days had the opportunity to wonder in the streets of Gregon...somebody said its called ...I have forgotten , the name is supposed to mean something, but am not good at local interpretations.
Now what would a lady, or a woman who thinks she is a lady be doing in Gregon. I mean here they are sell you even when you are still standing. They cxalculate what you are worth and before you get lost the highest bidder has you, well the story might not be true but hell they would sell your car before you make a u turn!
Whatever they do there, is not as important as why the hell would any woman want to have a boyfie from that Kirinyaga road, working there...sure...but living there??
Well I got hooked up, and three days into trying to locate Oti.... I give up!!

Patriotic?**

Kendu bay dala wa……. Kenya ismarwa…..???
I always said it, politiks is not my favorite topic, not here on earth, nor I doubt largely if I go on to heaven, politiks will interest me. However the recent takings of a certain peoples is upsetting my insides. Pride the good book talks comes before a fall…indeed it does, I find no problem when a man owns three phones, one his, one for his special friends, and another his family line, the one his wife can reach him, that is if she is lucky it gets through, but contract between them spells the number she is to use always, no offside on this one. Neither do I find it hard to accept, a man with a car as big as his ego, intercooler, it is….no……no, it’s the Hammer now, you don’t have a hammer, you sure don’t know where you are headed in life, a man has got to be a man, and a man has to live a life bigger than him.
What I find hard to welcome is the need for anyone to turn their house into a disco! Its abuse of the basic rights of the neighbours, of the people who live in that house and a straight violation of what Father calls international and religious rights. If any one wants to use big words for small things, its alright. But a big ego, doesn’t go well with big things. At first I thought it must be… I mean somebody had died just in the hood, you know they play music to help collect money, while body is in the mochary, I mean the price of the mochary and that of taking the body bak home is climbing so fast. And you know those stupid businessmen whom you contract to take the body bak home for you they agree when you are here, then when you are on the way they, they decide to remove the body from casket and leave it on the ground if you don’t pay them the difference. But no one leaves the body in the city, it would be the abomination and dissolution of cultural obligations it doesn’t matter, if the dead had left the village and never wanted to come bak, we wait when they die, we would always take them where they belong with the ancestors!!!
So its not a burial, so why would anyone blast that music. Second night the music; there it goes again…ndi…ndi….ndi..ndi…boom…boom……twaf!
Aunt Nera says…..but what is it? Has the spirits entered our new neighbour? That man from line four? She says this is too much; my late husband whom I loved so much didn’t give me this headache, so a man I don’t know cannot deny me sleep…..
Well off she went….and sooner she came……and the music behind her……BOOM…..BOOOM…BOOOM…….TWAF!!!!
What happened?
If you cannot buy a disco system and put in your house, don’t force people to live like you!!!! Ziiiiich…..volume increased…BOOM…BOOOM…BOOOOOM….and Aunt Nera stood there talking to herself!

Hit and Run

Not a driver........I know that is what you gone think. When I put my mind on it a little long, I gone agree with myself, its a driver alright, but this sort do not go hit with car, they hit human and human. Maybe this city is too big for people like me who grow in the country side, who still uphold things that the Good Book will give nod on.
No matter what Nita sometimes say I go lack, that I need to get me self civilised, act proper, accept social reforms, change with time, be dynamic in me thinkin........ I think she tries to defend undefendable happenings, its good when a pot breaks it can still be mended, if not it can still serve some food, its use still is there. This hit and run i go say about it what i really think my head is going around for. No man wants to stay around no more. They want to hit and run, its the new game in town...and Nita says some woman has just got to play it. Well i thot, i get hit becoz i dont know, and hitter run because they fear, but not in this particular one. Jack says, tomax..... I love you , i do. I say how can you love me, I met you now...you know. He say I know from now i love you...... what a misuse of words! If you love me, you bring two white chicken, three He-goats, and 12 cattle, or 6 cattle if three of them gone calve, so Papa, and Mama can measure yo love for the first daughter of theirs..... their first fruit...you want position of eldest son-in-law show yo worth to Papa! Jack, He bolts, I never seen him again, I say to meself....... thse were 17 animals I ask for, he bolts...... love indeed!
So Nita says if I go round here like that am gone loose evry boy who wants me close, then am gone reach my 30th year and no man would bring even a chick to Pa! I say why not Nita, you think am less beautiful, am not worth...all that, you know Pa will even ask for more...she say, time have changed Tomax..... you place those conditions that sound like IMF loaning rules, you get no man in your Pa's homestaed asking you to have the honour of bring up his seedlings!
I say Nita, what I to do now? Namba 30 is far, but the world is ending, days become years, and I would have bring not forth no younglings!
Nita ....always open minded, you got to let the man hit, and if he runs he no yours, if he stays...he is teh one. Now if some customer gone ask to taste Aunt Nera fish am gone let them.... but if a three legged male, wants a piece of me to be shure or to help him decide if to stay or not.......my dead grandfather forbid.... am gone tear him into two, cut off his third leg before he even says L....a..v!!!!!
Whether village in me stays or leaves, ......... the village in me will still gone to ask for those animals.......and the woman in me gone to wait around for not the man who just delivers the animals, but he who will deliver and still awoken the lioness, that sits still in me, rave it like a fire in the bush, prey on me like an eagle swift on a chicken, and the river will not run dry.
It broke my heart that that Jack did not stay, I mean he was good to look at, but he sure is good riddance! Probably a hitman!

Coup de' dat

Sometimes when I talk, everyone just thinks am talking, becoz of no other job to do, like the other day I say it so well, why would a man send another man to woo some woman for him? You dont need to go to school to know a coup can happen, the government can be overturned on you, and trust me you dont need a stranger to go done that for you, your own flesh and blood can do it for you. I tell Ikanta that has get nething to do with, smartness, its all in the ego, the animal in every man, the desire to conquer, to rule, to acquire, to posess, to mate, to ensure the survival of his seed, and what the rest of the pack wants , challenges the lone male to go after te ultimate female. It happens in the animal kingdom, and its no different here, only humans are higher animals!

So when Tito, came around looking for me, last week I thot it was the fish money he owed Aunt Nera only wen i see him yesterday, he tell me why he look for me that bad. Tito and I hail from same village, so i treat Tito with lots of respect becoz he can act as my brother, we are from same clan........ Tito tell me I was in Naivasha Tomax......i say yes...whats good there, you want to leave your driver job...he go no no...... I go to visit Andy. Ok Andy, I, Tito we all know each other from bak in the village, but that is not breaking news breaking news is An-dy, An-dy the trusted messanger, of Tito the special envoy, which means he was entrusted with going to call Tito's girlfriend from their homestead when Tito needed to si' her , was now the husband of that gal Tito loved so much.. Abello. He said he heard it in the village when he went visiting and he had to go confirm in Naivasha if it was all true... I look him in the eye and ask, you saw with your own eyes or you heard...he say i go there too, found them ...all tense...all tense, and he told them its fine with him, life must go on, and they have him blessings......quite some man i think...anyhow it all brought it bak to me ..... and am gone say it again, in ancestors name if you want some woman, do the chasing alone... this is not a whole pack chase,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, its a one man one lion chase...no way around it!

Rain or no rain....

Nairobi inanyesa. In this city even a drizzle is rain. But you know Njoguini he has lived in nairobi longer than anyone i know, from the dig, mvua ya nairobi ikitaka kunyesha, haimbembelezi...it rains, not baby drops, but it rain, rains!
Speaking of babies, no one here ever goes to see newborns anymore. Agneta, that is our cousin from Pa's side, she came to Aunt Nera place , saya mama Vino had just given birth to twins, Mama vino is my Aunt on that side too, now it has been two months, becoz i go count them, since Aunt Nera said we will go see the blesing, you cant call them babies..u know, the spirits might come and whisk them away to twin land. Anways now aunt nera keep saying if she aint no careful the day she will go see Mama Vino, those tow blesings will be the ones opening the door for her, Ancestors forbid! Twapa! Aunt says the beautiful days, when everyone would kam see the newborns is just getting lost..........no napkins,, no foodstuff, no vests, no nothing, some even just kam, and say they are greatly suprised you gave birth quickly it passed there minds, they see baby, and go, i find it truly uncustom of afri-ca-ns to do that, you go go see, an angel and empty handed you arrive? Now they , modern, city, town, urban women call that ceremony they kam with baby things...baby shower, and they do baby shower before the baby arrives. that is insult to the spirits, the West call it counting your eggs before they hatch....... which clothe to buy when no one know if he gone be a boy or he will chose to kam out a gal....... you let the baby be born then , only then all this came after...but they say.......primitive is the word..archaic...ignorant, .........call what they may......tradition is tradition, even Pastors I see dont get buried in the churches, they go take him home, where his forefather, once were!

Joy of nature

Ji enjoy

A jackpot?

I am trying to do the right thing.......by every rate, am trying to get a job. I gone talk to evryone out there, am now good in computer, ever since I coming to the youth centre, dont think I gone have a big headed, but I need decent job, Aunt Nera's fish ga ga is not doing bad, but not bring green bills too, and I not biting the hand that feed me, but if we all gone go to the road to burn fish, we are not going to get enough to get me out of here.

I love it here, I came from no place in village, they brood me in, Aunt Nera, feathered me so much, Father at the youth centre just allowed me to train on the computers and am gone be a star, they call it whizz........ and I want it so badly , to be so good before I gone leave the youth centre, then am gone do my Ma-ma, and Pa some proud, and Aunt Nera too, but right now I have to keep coming here.......... Father tell me its fine, so am gone keep doing this blog project while i can, and Juma also said he might get me into Data Entry job, where he works with those data people in the company he goes to, he says that is the easiest way to get into big company. So am going serious now, gone get some job on the desk

Jua Kali

To be honest sometimes the sun in Nai, doesnt just shine alone, it does so with the whole family baking on it, jua na watoto wake. Its probably hard to understand what am saying but if you have to stay outside, wait for Aunt Nera's omena to dry up, you would probably get it, its good teh dry up in a few days, but it should rain, i tell you, it just should, otherwise i wouldnt stand it anymore........ hot is just the word, but that never amazes not with this city gals, you expect them to do things wisely and they never suprise to go on the country...anyway not all of them

Take shiko from Apa, she has a boo here so she always come around, you know the rich gal poor boy story, anyway i cant crucify her for what har family has, but I certainly can when she has to stick those sharp pointed long leather gumboots, on this path. with tall skirts, you know the senorita one....s, give them a cold weather, heck you will never see them boots on, except some pieces of clothes in the name of spaghetti family...give them some sunshine.... well its Senorita on the mountain alright, am short changed in alot of things, smartness just passed behind our homestead without getting in, but logics, I have that abundantly, and am fashion logic..... not fashion stiken by light but definately fashion smart I am!

Come sing with me.

A pillar of salt

Its a Monday......and am keeping a low profile, but not before, I kashifu some stuff I just dont appreciate...one of those things is when some guy just pats the mathuths, of another fellow guy. Just like the open sewers at Mama Recho's kiosk dont go down well with my matumbo's, so do I find it hard to swallow this kind of moves.
Oh you thinking, yeah....... the villager in me most kindly has not taken up to the city life here, I don think the village hen, nor the city hen lay eggs in so much different styles they both...gone shout it to the whole world...before they gone place there backs on something, and drop it like is hot! That is why no matter, how much Nita and her friends gone say am taking long long to reform...conform........ a man pats a lady gigaga I gone accept it, even if its lack of respect, and shame on him......but a man pats anothers' gigaga..... I raise hell, right here on earth!
But its the new boy...on row four..... he is been thinking that Mbuyu's from corner is taking him for them free drinks. Now its a wonderful thing to give all the chemicals in the name of alcohol from the den a break, but hii mambo ya kupewa........ kupewa..kupewa....***
Nobody talks about it aloud lest mama Njigs, hear but we all know that he doesnt just use his front well, he uses the one that belongs to the government too, aha..u know..... and not with ka Mrs. no...no ....its with those boyoz he tries to pat, that irks anyone, for ancestors sake the Mbuyus is pure black, body spirit and soul............. we must be living in the days of Revelation, Mama says that, even Aunt Nera...... where things gone go opposite, things will get inverted, backwords.......but rights or no rights, freedom or no freedom, time cannot right a wrong..........., a wrong in the time of Lot...is a wrong in the times of Mbuyuz.......take it or leave it!

Shoro!

That boy from kayole… Musa was here jana, and that is not just the whole story. I already told you, how everyone takes advantage of this place. Look at all those politicians trying to find some holding here in Kibich…….. the latest I heard Nita saying that everyone is going to try and come and vote here. Everyone exploits the poor, not just the rich, everyone, even those who are not so very Rich, and even …just our normal friends. Now bak to Musa he is another one, taking advantage of this place…he is in Exile, he is taking a low profile from Soweto in Kayole, and yesterday I know he thought I didn’t have my ears on those walls, but I did…….and the whole juicy story came out, and to be honest its more of that Monica Lewinsky stra.
Musa fell in love with some Cutie, that is what he said… some Shoro, he couldn’t stop thinkin about after seen the underpants protruding from those so called peddle pushers… what a name..peddle?**!
So he starts to juice up this Shoro, and things went fine because within a minute the Shoro who knew Musa’s roomaate thought it would be nice to know where they live, to Musa’s excitement. Well kwa Keja they went, and after story after story…….well the Chile was like….. I wanted to leave but I will come around later. She left but came bak with her belongings which she claimed she would like to keep round for some while, before evening comes……after her errands. She did come bak, and Musa couldn’t wait to shoot the fireballs from his loins……they got to an agreement,
“why cant you stay the night” told like Michael Bolton , I hear!
Girls falls for this kind of stuff, get mellow..go gi....... ga.. ga.. ga

Well one night stand turned out to be 4 night stand…… the Shoro stuck there, till Musa had to go and plead with his married neighbour to get that lady out, a panel of the plot tentants finally got her out but after giving her fare, to catch the coast bus. The part I did not tell you about is the night she left…….. the Shoro was not only cute… but she had a husband living in Komarock, who had just found out in time that his lovely wife was hooked up with some fire spitting Musa, and Musa had to exit so fast, the only place he knew was here, Safe Haven!

Why cant men get it into their heads, what is it with…Cutie….??? If cutie doesn’t get you into trouble now….. Big Johnny will, Chukua Control!

Lucky Philip Dube- Victims

A post of Silence- Lucky Dube

Sometimes even wordz become scarce, and this are the times am lost, and short of anything to say. He lived codemning the evils of this world through his songs, which touched many, and ironical that he had to die by the hand of a carjacker!!!


Rest in Peace Lucky, for now, sina words.

"Nobody can stop the Message spreading, even when the messanger is gone"



Tomax.

Jua Kali Expo(18-21) K.I.C.C

Jana!

Now yesterday was just one full day...... and when today arrived all I wanted was a breakfast fit for a king, and I know Mandazi za Wambugu are just those kinds that you are sure you can cover your face with and tie it behind your head, but , with the type of day I had........ Wambugu's products did not look like they could live up to the job! Nada!

Let me just sambaza the preview, of what I went thru, this gal, she is Ikanta's neighbour from behind the house, she has been planning to get married......not those church weddings, the exile one; however her boyfriend doesnt live here, so the "boyfie", i like saying that, I got it from Nita, you know the way Nita drops words like they are hot on her lips, but I caught that one before it turned cold. Anyway Nereah's boyfie sent money to buy sofa set, and she had to take them to this place Umoja, that is what they call it...Umoja, so me and Ikanta were going to be the escorters, helping her set house, what I was not told was those houses in Umoja, did not need a well schooled architect to raise them from the ground. If it were not for the fact that Nereah promised us some good return for our sweat, quiting was a lovely word yesterday.......not only were we taking them to Umoja, but that Umoja turned out to be a flat, and Nereah;s place ...3rd floor, no sweat, but tears if the stairs I saw there, those ni mtoto wa stairs, those were in no way stairs......even getting a three legged sit thru, was just Mayhem. How in the Ancestors name would I want to live,........!!! there? To cut the story short it took me, Ikanta, Nereah, and five other men, from that place to help hoist those damn butterflys in the name of seats to Nereah's place, and it did not happen till 7pm at night, I got that 100 shillings alright, but the next time I hear moving house, am remaining right at the doorstep I better watch Aunt Nera's fish than get myself into pit latrines with no exit, am still aching... I mean when i tell you now, it might just seem like am talking, but I wish I could bring Ikanta here, to speak for me, it was terrible, tho i thought we would be finished and we get bak before Aunt Nera goes to the road, but what we saw there, and did, was a story I had to live to tell today.......terrible is an understatement, but here those guys in Umoja say if it was hard to get it up there, then a thief would definately not have a chance bringing it down, a security measure they say......security my head! Who still steals sofas!

Orange craze

It a sumptous morning, one because, am hungry, quite hungry and second because I had to come to the youth centre early, I have a tailoring exam....now my dreams is to maybe become the next fundi frank.
I have no doubt the guy is having some booming business, right now......... look at all the matching happening around you...its the politics e-u-phoria, T-shirts saying this saying that, kenyan style I guess........ and Orange is just the colour to go for........ trust me, if you are into business......keep everything orange aside, its the money milling shilling from today till we get the next Prezzo, so I started collecting orange socks from Toi market, to be real, am collecting anything orange....ties, t-shirts....scarfs........ I am stocking........waiting to hit the Rungu right on the head when it catches fire.
Somebody mentioned that the problem of us slumdwellers is we find certain things to be normal....... but dreaming to be rich is not abnormal is it? I dream, I dream the way Bob Marley dreamt, I dream the way Marcus dream, I dream the way Martin Luther dreamt, and I dream the way... Tomax would......small dreams, in a big world..... that is why I want a piece of this orange....... and the only way I c it is the early I start...the much better!

Off colour

Just that off colour, that is what everyone in the tailoring class heard Father tell the new visitor to the youth centre, off colour. Well she has colour alright, she totally went red when one of the cheeky boys from Room 1, did not shake her hand but kissed it, the British style, and everyone laughed...why, i do not know, but it reminds me how much I love the way people from the West aare courtetous towards women. Its not only proper but I find it to be so right...... I could live with that,... I mean the other day am talking to that boy Wycliff, the one who goes to the university and the next thing he is patting me hard on the back......."....Tap!! tuonane baadaye" A pat is just my way of diluting the whole fist thing, I almost brought bak what I had for breakfast. That was not gentle aaa..aaa....ah, it was like getting a one good slap on your cheek, only that the bakside is more sensitive because it doesnt get the exposure that often.
Anyhow..... they are all biased say them, they cant try hard to be like men from the west, no one is asking them to bleach them bodies, or go for rebirth to become west men, all a woman gobe ask for , that shuld no be big matter is be gentle. Dont roughen up a woman, I know african women are tough, but a little gentleness....goes a long way in softening......any woman. Not by the book one...no...just a little here and there...you have this boyfren who doesnt know where you live expect when he gone need some saliva exchange from you, then he come with excuses that could putoff an undertaker, and he spills them on you just like that. Take for example yesterday after church, I had a date with Mwas, I go sit there by the shop, I stand, I walk around, I come, he no there, I leave for home, then he comes whistling, at 9 in the nyte,...... that is lack of gentleness. I put my Sunday best, I borrow perfume, I wear those tight pointed shoes, I bought in toi market last week,m I stand around like a geek, and he no come in time, now am off colour because somehow i think he is two timing me!!!

How too boot a boyfriend

I hope you are not here, because you really think am gone show you how to boot some guy out of your life, if I knew how, that son of the charcoal would have seen hell sometime ago, not because he is my boyfren no...... he belongs to inkanta. Ikanat insists that that bugger and her they stopped doing it sometime ago, he said his father's business was suffering so he needed some break, well it has been somelong break indeed...... and I kanta almost thought he had left only for him, the other day box that , fellow who seels the roasted maize beside Wambugu's butchery. Now, when a man says he needs a break probably he is getting some, of it somewhere else, which kind of a man needs a break......, probably it wasnt good enough for him to stick around there for long........now he is coming bak to Ikanta again....... the problem is not the presence of the maizeroaster, honestly i know Ikanta she is silent on the outside, but her insides say other things, she says she always dream of getting some better man, some brother who can know how to clear bills before he clears his throat!
So she is embarking on how to get rid of Wanjala.......my advice. sometimes you just got to tell it like it is........drop it like its hot!! A boot is a boot, whether, softly delivered or roughly given... at the end of the day, you still get the boot, Period!!!

Harambee

I find some things amusing, you might not, but surely this one is. I believe in the spirit of Harambee, pulling together, if all the parties involved are willing members that okay. But there is this form of Harambee, that is quite forced, take like yesterday, just like most days that I am coming from town , I get into this Nissan and of course because I didn’t board it from the stage its almost empty except for three guys inside it. Well it can’t go anywhere, until it’s full, and that is where the Harambee starts. If you are inside this matatu there is no much difference between you and the tout. He is seeking; you are seeking, holding your breath just as much as he sees the next passenger’s face looking like the 20 bob shilling. As a passenger inside the matatu you seek because one you are in a hurry, secondly that matatu cannot go anywhere until its full. So you pull together, your prayers that that guy or that old lady looking this way and that way, wants to board the matatu. They don’t look this way and that way for luck of knowledge where the matatu is coming from, or going no...... no they are watching out for the Kanjo, those are the local city council guys, for a long time I thought there mandate was just environmental, but now they have the Harambee project with the traffic police, cross the zebra crossing faster than required, don’t just watch for the crows in blue, mmmhh, watch out for the bim bam in green and yellow hats!!! Tough life, that is why now the Harambee sprit has to flow into everyone, if it sorts you out then its best you help the tout to get that Nissan full before, you get to where you are going, is it forced? I doubt it is in the interest of the parties involved, speaking of that, have you got an sms telling you that: one MP aspiring fellow from your village would like you to attend his Harambee to raise funds for his campaign? Aunt Nera did, how the hell did the fellow get the number, I thought confirmation of your registeration as a voter using your phone, only ended at that now they are following you like ghost, to even help them raise funds........ Anti corruption unit should be given more powers, Aunt Nera says. Harambee, that is acceptable right now is that of , you died in the city and we just have to take you back to ancestral land, its just a must, we don’t need to be reminded of that by our long gone babus!

Terrible times

For some people that I have heard of, lack of electricity is just disaster enough to make sure that the man with the top post doesnt sleep at all. That might be disaster for you. Or even a blocked sewer, you know, it affects everything especially the ministry of stomach affairs, that is well understandable. But disaster here, is when its that time of the month when you have to fish out 7 dollars to pay rent. Amazing! Shocking! I know all those beads of truths, mixed with lies that the outsiders say about us, like the other day, that TV guy was here, covering a story on the rich poor. Rich poor doesnt exist in the dictionary, the last time i checked. I know all about those aerials that they see sky rocketing around here, I know about all that, but still 7 dollars, it is....disastrous.......... It will make anyone go for those special holidays the likes of Mungitu at the corner stage call holiday, we call it going for exile. That means you take a french leave, like you are going to the shops, which doesnt leave you much room to carry out the necessary stuff, after that you go underground just for a while making sure to pop uo in strategic points to the sight of the people whom you know are the local journalist we call them, they will definately Break the News. The point in all this, is to let anyone who matters to know, you are stilll within, they cant get to you, but neither are you dead,....then when the landlord cools down because he difinately will, he is used to that fracas..anyway, you pop out....... and the first thing is to deny if you were ever around, the ones who saw you, waliona zao, the real explanation is that those boys in blue just handcuffed you a few metres from the plot, and you had to be hosted by the local urine hole in the name of a cell for the last few days. You are definately going to pay the rent once you get your ID back because the mhindi in Inda promised you , ubaruch come Monday............, now that is what I call classic disaster management!

10th October....that day!

Enjoy the Holiday........and keep it theatre, coz i worshiply do, its my second love, the first ...mmmmh.................................maybe the Ghetoo....Ha...has...ha

Lep

Waiting in vain

Everyone has been waiting, for Adith's baby to arrive.....Adith is the vision that God must have had for a woman in body curvature. First she has that gap between her teeth, awesome, magnificent, just beautiful. The she is not too fat, nor too thin. She is just pretty, she is absolutely something, everyone knows that. But that is not why we all wait to see her baby, of course the baby will be something too, a tear off a pretty dress, thats what i call it.

We all waiting because so far, whoever that baby will be, it has 5 potential fathers! I have scartched my head over this , how on my gran ma grave does anyone have five men all thinking that they are the father to some baby! Beats my thinktank, the intellectuals, say...it beats logic, but not those five men, well they have never met anyway but us, we know because we see them, then we hear what Adith says, but we also cant tell. One thing about the Ghetto, that I always have to remind you is that here we are family. If it helps one of us, yes we will rip you off, if it protects one of us we will be defensive, if there is a chance one of us is going to get to the other side of the fence, get rich you know, we know he will keep this place in his heart as home, its just the way it is, the rule were made long long time, no one revises them, you just catch the drift. Take that Adith boyfriend abroad, he has been sending money every month,....becoz the baby is his......oh well if he has enough money to share around, why cant it come to Adith, surely there is no crime in that? Ok that is just the first one the second guy, he comes from Eastlando's that is what they brag about, we like him becoz he can relate to life in this neighbourhood, he is also young, husstling, that is his occupation......no harm he can be the father too, he is lost for all I know, with some big illusions in life. Pete is his name, so we just call him Tosh. Brandon is the campus guy, he is in campo.....he is quite some guy, has all the accesories in the right place, some CAT shoes, the bling bling, comes around calling Adith his baby's ma, may...be... may....not! Be a father or dye trying!! The prince charming, the corporate jamaa, gentle is his trade mark, nice to the point of pain, drives a car alright, and is damn sure he is the the prince in shining armour, saving poor Rampanzel from the high tower of poverty, who said been poor is a curse, we get by...that is not poor, he thinks it is, he has some soory a** if you ask me. The last of the famous five that I know of is our very own Marcus. Own becoz he just lives around but near the prisons, our own becoz most of the girls here saw him grow up playing kalosh..... and the women folk. they know him....... he must have been banging Adith, but for all we know of all those well to do girls he had had been bringing in the hood, he is a hit and run case, However this time, IF Adith baby is his he can be sure, this time round it cant be a hit and run, it will be a hit and stay, because in the hood only outsiders are alien, the insyders, are family, you dont run out on family, its not acceptable!!

Agwas...coming

Couldnt make it yesterday, where would you have expected me to be...no where but in the presence of Agwas. In our neighbourhood, Agwas holds a special place in our hearts, he is the true son of the people who live here, sometimes people exxagerate how much we love this son of the soil, but Agwas he is......and there is no changing his status in the lives of the people here. I came here, and found he was not just Agwas, that was him from a distance, here he was a son, an uncle, a brother...he was just about everything, and we all knew him, we all were somehow related to him, that is why it is not big news for us to expect too much of him. Blood is thicker than water, the white butterfly whispered, and the black one knows it too, that is why when he enters the shrine we would expect not to be charged rent here, we would expect to eat, to live , to have less worries because he is our son, sons dont let their families die of hunger or, sleep in the rain....they do what is right according to their families, that is why we still expect so much from him.

sometimes I think its too much, if not now, maybe in the future it will be , but Aunt Nera and even her fellow women in the merry go round, they agree Agwas has come to save them, that is why for the whole family yesterday we just had to go for an outing at the park. Lunch or no lunch, and breakfast too we had to forgo that too, if only we could be the first ones to arrrive at the park. To count a million ants is tedious, that is why I cant bother to tell you how many of us were there, Ikanta is better than me in numbers, but she couldnt arrive at the figure, so ...you guess it. I can speak much no...no...with all the shouting I did!! So now we are just waitting..... for the rest...when Agwas finally gets it, even Aunt Nera wont sell fish no more, it would be like been in Zion, no more crying there, that is what Ras Kimo said, it will be like Babylon gon come down, and on the hill we shall be eating of the green pastures......

am not sure about what he say among all the quick talking he does, but sometimes my mind goes confused.......are they talking about Jesus, or what!!!

Show?

I got to be loosing my head, becoz it has been spinning round and round, reminds me of gran-ma alot, this one from Pa's side, but Pa's other mother, the one who shared the same pot with Pa's true mama. She was a christian alright, but she could spin the chakula uji, you might not know that, its the truer version of Busaa, you get the maize all springing out the young one, ferment it, roast it, and spin it, and Gran-ma just had the touch that could put Michael Power in doubts about his famous products, am not sure becoz i never tasted but from all those Gran-pas friends, I know she did it the best. What bring a smile to me mouth, is those moments when she would catch me stealing the fermented, maize, I mean you mix it with honey and ...there you go...some good protein, she would always insist that I would give birth to staggering babies, if I eat it, but you know Gran-ma could just say anything, and I would just do anything and get away with it, I miss her so!

Bak to this spinning, I have been sitting on that stone near Ikanta's house, counting and reading all the school buses that have paased through here. Its the SHOW I hear, so them schools bring them here. Must have gone to village schools coz, I know see a bus that the former Toro- promised us, we sang for him......all the way at the roadside though it was a whole day's walk to the road from the village, and we never before had seen motorcade. We sang like the Good Lord himself was coming down, and went bak to school hungry , but the bus was going to come, ileft it never came! So am counting the buses, Ikanta say we should plan to go to the show, big cows are always there....... city people always amaze me.....my fathers boma, has cows, they eat their grass by the lakeside, if I want to see a fat cow, Pa has cows. Sometimes I think Ikanta thinks am very shorthanded about the things that happen here, well she is better than Nita, atleast she weighs my opinions well, but she has to tell me whatelse me gone found in that show. Coz all i av seen is them buses with them scholl children pass...pass...pass.........but I will consider it...i mean going to the show, for some fat cows observation.

Well the mood here is glorious, Bobo's likes have started doing there rounds........ i know Nita and all her coffee....prestige, Aunt Nera and her Soya....me I just like anything goes.......but the likes of Bobo, sometimes i even think Bobo never brushes his teeth, he surely swallows down that bitter stuff, says since he started using it, he doesnt remember the last time he saw himself down with Malaria. Malaria or no malaria, his bones are protuding,, his eyes bulge out, his mouth is cracked, he has kaukad, but one man's meat is another man's stone, and Bobo's Friday is always the same, Drop it like its hot, Down with the Liquor, Top the dessert, And sleep like a log, the next day........and the weekend continues...........

Sexy Back

This crazy stuff...that i talked about jana...mmmh the madness is not just all over , i here its all over the city too....oh you know what with everyone wanting to get their sexy bak. Now that is something that wife of Bobo should think about I mean that woman is not just blessed with african feminist features at the right places but also in the unforbidden places. She is swollen alright, and that, even a virgin eye would know, is not been fat. The mills ...the rumour one, are sure making their rounds, first it all started with Mama mboga saying, that Bobo's wife must be using, u know the speed governor to the babymaking machine, why in the ancestors name would she get blown up because of that? Their theory went on to predict maybe she came when she was two, her and something inside, I mean she never knew Bobo before that witch of Bobo's stepmother brought her around. Well it didnt stop at that, the type of speedgovernor that she would be using was intensly discussed, you know it could be those tiny winy implants you see them women have on their arms, or that wire that guards the goal post in the upper street, or she could be swallowing those flashy coloured pills, that are good at bringing about babies in sets.

But it could have been left at that if it were not for the nosy nurse, in the shabby clinic where almost every other gal in the alley has been too, wonder why she chose that profession, she cant keep her beak never shut no, and if there is any gentleness in her, only the devil himself could be questioned, coz no human knows. She drops that stupid imagination of hers, that that type of swolllen could only be brought about by Andila! Now that is something even I was arrogance of, Andila is the new name of ARV...mmmmmh. She said you take them you get swolllen just like that, only unique eyes like hers and not the stupid, ignorant eyes of the slum women could catch on that!!! Now that made their jaws drop so....o....o..o first, and the silence....like death. Its not an area, they would like to go to. Here in the slum we know its there, its the silent death, you know you have not seen mama Deno for a while because she has been lying in her darklit mudhouse for a while now, and his young sons coming once in a while from there ubaruch, and their Dad had left some while ago....and we only wait, to take her to the morgue once she is gone. The good thing is because we know its here, we dont run away from those who have it, no matter how they look, you would fetch water for them, the same women folk no matter how they gossip, they would always continue to do that with them, because if poverty is not hitting you, a car doesnt kill you, a husband gives you 10 children and leaves, the strength of the woman living in a slum is her women folk. It doesnt matter, the fights, business rivalry, kuchimbiana, wivu, uzushi, what counts the most is when you are down on your knees, these women they forget all this,whether you were in the same merrygo round or not, women here, in a wierd way, funny sort of way, incomprehensible way, always stand up for their own, its the ghetto life!

And Bobo's wife, is no weight watcher, I doubt if she even knows about this sexy bak obsession, whatever it is....right now she is the grease, of the rumourmill!

Loosing weight

There must be some obssesions around this place that only Ikanta and I dont notice, Those mean friends of Nita never eat no nothing, and all in the name of wanting to look like some self starved darfur camp inhabitant. Its all right, when there is nothing to eat, but I can tell you one thing no matter how this place looks like from outside....... there is always food here. We can eat chicken as much as we want, though the one that are fried by the roadside, its only the heads, sometimes they do like vulture heads, but i know they do taste like chicken, and they are yummmy. If you book at Mama nguruwe, oh she is the one that usually fries the pork pieces one piece and a slice of ugali , you are done for the night, not to mention what Aunt Nera sells the fish fillets, fried, crunchy, browned....Why in the hell would anyone want to pretend they are dying of hunger. Its already enough we have to contend with lack of good toilets, I mean this city people are just something, even digging the pit latrine is a no go. Nobody even wants to hear of that...but I can tell you those communual latrines I saw at the other end of Toi market...I would rather drop my by products down the tup tup
This obssesion is not just with Nita, the other day am standing in for Aunt Nera at the fish stand by the road, then comes this lady with probably her boyfriend, they were holding hands and all, u know the nairobi style that is what i hear, and she ask for some fish, am wrapping it and all, then she goes...which type of fat did you use, i point at the karai, its all black and all, greasy too, she sneers, ask why we dont use no no liquid fat, i say we gone use it when that one clears, she fets about it, squezes the fish this way that way, to see some fat getting out of it, the fish no live in dry land, fish lives in water, and thin fish are hard to come by, i know for sure. That man just stands there, and i am waiting for my money becoz, i wrapped the fish anyway. Then she says she will only take it becoz its white meat,Ha!!! My Foot!
White meat or green, fat liquid or gas, I have passed by those places they call kenchic and you can be sure the smell I get from them damn hot fans, is of recyled, redone,greasy chickens, since when did deep fried chicken become roasted chicken....the lies people are sold in this town, amazes me, and the next thing is they are dieting, while on the other hand filling up the same places fat gone loose from them body. That Nita never even touch the bitter vegetable that Aunt Nera loves so much....says she eats gorget, shushamber, I think she eats there tough names, fat or big....am not downing my appetite for some self starved lifestlyle, am gonna eat them fried chickens,them fried fish, them bitter herbs, them matoke, name it, and my heart will still be strong, If them dont need hips, am african, hips describe me!!!!

Messangers are not required: Courting a woman

The problem with been a specialist is you get to know more about less, I didn’t say that; Father Jacobo from the youth centre has always said that, so he encourages us to be a Jack or Jacklene of all trades. I admire that, but am hooked up on the computer section and I just don’t admire the whole idea of doing tailoring. I mean I really tried, the nun took me to Mama Leah, that lady who has the dressmaking kiosk just around the other side of the butchery……..mmmmh her, and am telling you the whole week I had to hem all those clothes and sew together the pieces of rags under the Singer sewing machine at her feet, now I understand every training has got its own curriculum but to subject me to pure boredom in the name of becoming a Jacklene, I call it abomination.
Anyway that was just by the road, what is on the road is the latest saga, between Oti and Kepha. I know I have never talked about them, but Aunt Nera’s house is becoming a second home to me, and this neighbourhood is swallowing me up. Bak to the road, what I call vanity might be stupidity, or ignorance or arrogance. Why in any Man’s right mind would a man send another man to woo a woman for him, that is what brought about that fight between this two, right on our doorstep. Now this Oti is some big guy what those Nita’s girlfriends would call DTH, Dark Tall and Handsome, but the guy has fries for a brain, he decided that because he wanted Nita so bad that little fellow, Kepha actually his cousin, will do the errands in this matter. Well Kepha did just that wooed that Nita, but not for Oti, it was for himself, how he managed to outbeat that Oti, it can only be in what Oti lacks in brains, he has a short hand in that, well he must have seen the errand boy not making progress for him to show up finally right at the doorstep of Aunt Nera. This is where the village boys just outwit, this know it all city boys, your potential mother in law's house is a shrine that you just cant walk in like that, but the way I have seen them do it here, they would probably look their mother in laws in the eyes too!!!
Well that Oti had a rude shock, he not only found that there was a coup de tat’ but that in the whole new Kepha government he was extinct, but not before that Kepha arrived to pick up that Nita, that is when all hell broke loose. Twaf! Twaf! That is all we could here, it could have ended there, if it were not that Aunt Nera dagaa were drying on a mat outside, thanks to them those two good for nothings, are in the police custody, not for fighting..no..no the police just never get anything right…they are in for loitering with no purpose, terror suspects with the intention of disturbing the neighbourhood, Aunt Nera just had to make sure that Nita character doesn’t come in at all! Call it blood is always thicker!!

Bleeding from holes

The headaches dont seem to want to go away, every step i take seems to be some pounding inside my brains, the next thing I know I just want to knock this head against the wall,l and that is not a joke!
However there are things that I find to be a joke, one of them is the exaggeration of problems in relation to problems other people might have. Just the other day, that good for something, Josh comes around scaring everyone that their chickens had died, now chickens die, I mean this is a city, if a car cant stop on the zebra crossing for a human being believe you me , not even a crossing chicken counts. Well the other day it was all this SARS stuff, and the next thing you know everyone fears the other person, and suddenly the chicken owning neighbour becomes an instant enemy per se. I understand all that, but for Josh to expect us to believe ....what he said that their chickens died of a disease related to that one we saw on tv, that disease where you bleed from every hole in your body, aha, that is the one, that young man, he did get even the attention of the local chief, I didnt know towns in the city have chiefs, its not like a lot of this city dwellers keep enough birds to bribe the chief with occassionally for favourable decisions like in the village cases. Anyway the chief himself was there, and the rest of us slum dwellers, tagging along fearfully, I mean you really dont want to die from that wicked illness, it becomes taboo to be touched even when you die. Been an african, even when you are dead, we would still touch you, just to make sure the witch did not take an opportunity to slash any meat off your body for those hell knows kind of medicine, and love portions. But this disease that cant happen, .....so Josh claims had to be treated with a lot of heavy seriousness. There we are tagging along, me and Ikanta obviously deep in the crowd, but when we reach Josh's verandah, even the chief could not make one more step, I mean yes the government pay him for his job , but they wont pay him if he takes himself to the grave, would they?
We never saw the chicken, neither did we want to, we stood out there talking fear, mixed with anxiety and a sick excitement if Josh was really right, until the Ministry of health vans started arriving, pouring out men and women dressed all in white, gloves, gamboots, overalls, face masks, that Josh had better be right, that bleeding disease is not a joke, but how the hell it flew from Congo straight into Josh's chicken, is a question that young man should be made to answer, a penny for his wierd thought, cant bet on him been right!!!!

A post of Silence

I hope you are doing super alright, amidst the loss of a most loved singer like Angela, words run dry, and am lost for alot of them words, and for the great respect that I had for Angela, not just as a singer, or a christian, but for been a woman after God's own heart, I would leave it at that.
The kenyan Gospel scene will surely miss her, and personally as an artist and a lover of art, music is just one of those international languages that cut across borders, leaving us united in tunes.
Angela did a good job of it, a true worshipper indeed, who had a testimony to tell, for the few of us who got to attend her shows, or meet her in church, the artist in me had to lie low, mourning her, and praying for the loved ones who will miss her so, yet we can be rest assured Angela has gone home.

This is a post of silence, for yet another fallen loved one, whose works has been a great blessing.


Tomax

Angela Chibalonza-Inanibidii niseme(I have to say it)

R.I.P Angela Chibalonza

Its hard to say anything on this one, she has been called home, Rest In peace Angela, we loved you, you blessed us with your work in the ministry of Christ, and God loved you most to call you home even when we think it is too soon.


May He strengthen your family and loved ones during this time, am sure, you are in paradise with Him.



R.I.P, Angela

Mate to Mate

Now there are things even I have to teach some one, excuse any misuderstanding on the title of this post but I just could not get a way of italicizing it, because really in my home town, home country, the land of my fathers.....my motherland.... that is saliva...mmmmmmh ask anyone else....mate is saliva. I just have to riot about this, I know, the events of riots in Kisii like am them c in the tube.....just stupid hooligans with no morsel to keep on them table. Beats my senses, why would some big ugali fed men, circumcised for all I know be the stooge of political recycled busted and good for sitting beside the fireplace like that Kisii big pot bellied man be thinking anyway....I know , that is why i keep on insisting, politics, I leave it to those men who have been coming around here trying to get some boys from the neighbourhood to join, that so called youth for change, maybe they are serious this time, but I leave politics to them
This saliva thing I just had to raise, because the amonut that gets exchanged here, in the evening, mmmh is just ....enormous. Including that Nita, always wanting to go to the shops at night, I wish i had those, new shiny electronic camera, you just click and walla the picture just shows up, because yesterday I caught her, actually saw her live live, doing just what I detest most, passing that saliva of hers from this point to the next.....that big guy standing next to her. Why would anyone do that!!! Whats the point, bak at the village, you do that to give the babies porridge, its efficient and there is no way in the world, they are going to spit it bak. You hold it there, until you here that bubling sound of the porridge hitting there stomach. You cant leave hunger to take its toll on your little ones, when you are out farming for hours under the sun, but in this city, and especially around here, i dont see no hunger, no babies but yet when evening comes, oh the mate exchange begins!!!!

Brenda Fassie Vulindlela

T.I.A

Am getting one of those major headeaches I hear everyone crying about on Mondays morning, dont understand it but on Mondays, even that local son of the charcoal seller never gives the right change back, and always smiling up to me with his rust stained teeth, its hard to get those kind of thiings , amillion dollar smile from rusty teeth, wonder why everyone thinks the shiny glittering whitened teeth is worth any money trust me, that charcoal burner son, he smiles from his heart everytime I go to buy a debe of charcoal from him.
Deep down that touches my heart. I dont understand why our men just never get it. Walls have ears, and the astonishing stuff that goes on in our back yard(excuse my exxageration) i cant just keep quite about it. That mama Dennis was out in the water hole, same as usual except for that muffin swollen left eye on her face. You could here the city women folk there whis.... whis..... whispering to each other, with there lesos trying to cover thier mouths. But that Mama mboga just never knows when its the right time to shut up her talking outlet. There she goes...... "why dont you leave that husband of yours,,,mama Deno"
Now I understand that is one thing you just dont tell an African woman, not here anyway, I mean what kind of a man never disciplines his wife, failure to do that can only mean you dont love her enough. When you love her , you touch her, touch here means you remind her that you are the man, give her some thorough beating once in a while, let the women folk talk about it during the day and in the evening, you should make sure to be seen with a kilo of (nyama) meat, make sure the women sitting outside their houses...sees that!! Its manly, he beats you, but you know he loves you enough to have bought that one kilo of meat for you tonight, probably diner toppings usually include sexual reconciliation. But that is the way it is, TIA,
That swollen face of mama Deno, is not just what those women from the NGO around the corners says, violence...its different, its a sign of love, her husbands loves her enough to notice the wrong things that she does, and he is caring enough to give her some beating for it, and good enough to come back home with some sort of reconciliation package, its a break from eating all those green things that goats will seem to think there is a month long party, always in that house!!!

Cappuccino

Alot of stuff has been doing there rounds here, but the upper most is the modern civilisation of Nita, well there was another juicy story, but I will keep it maybe till tomorrow. I have to say this fast, outside there wind is blowing itself to madness seems like some sort of rain but from what Gran-ma used to tell me, a rain that wants to pour doesnt shout , it whispers, sometime it doesnt even do that, it just come...spontanoues! That is the word....my english teacher used to like it, she would always say...Be spontanous! You wont miss out on life! Doubt her though.
Well the modernisation of Nita, since she has had everyone's ear in the house listening to her latest rendezvous, she first asked ask what beverage we like. What kind of a damb question is that, as far as i know we take majani or orungi(tea or strong tea), and that Nita knows that if Aunt Nera wakes up feeling religious we take, Soya...it contains no nicotine, so she says, reducing our chances of getting addicted. My foot addiction is one thing, but to use the wrong platform to raise the issue is what I call misuse of intellectual resources. Bak to Nita, she comes in one eveining with all this stuff called Capucchino....then we say we dont know it, then she says Flapochino. Now, I know am limited in alot of things, but I would know from a marathon distance when someone is playing with my mind. Am sure no genius, but that Nita is a s good as any liar, in the village I know. Those words the same, but she insist that one is hot coffee and the other is cold coffee, who in their straight mind would take cold coffee, poor is a way of living back in the village but even I wont take cold orungi, poor or no poor, but its hard to define when Nita is just boasting how different she is from this place we are, and when she is just honest, you just never get it!!!!

Low Libido?*?

Excuse my language but yesterday was a day I would rather get off ma chest sooner. It is uncharacter of me to choose the fist to deal with my troubles, nut that sister of mine from my aaaaAunt Nera just forced my hand, and I had to forget my manners for a while and get lost in the tiny wrangles that could have been solved in anotherway. Anyway its all done and undone, and well maybe those cheeky friends of Nita are having a party over this, its what the local people here will do, take pride in winy fights like this. Every woman is afraid of the other thinking the other will take what belongs to her. Poverty is not enough to wreck things here, suspicions reigns high on the list. Even now things are not so good with Bobo, that new wife of his is not on a bed of red roses, she is on the thorns of the rose tree, to be sure. Bobo's love for the den is not the only thing that is taking him there, from the way the women near Mama mboga's place are talking, Bobo's reptile also serves Mama cham. The rumour is making its round, high and low, why would any woman want to leave her Pa home to come and lodge with Bobo as a wife, Bobo whom she has never seen, Bobo comiited to his illecit liquor, and the old woman who brews it!! But that is the way it is in the neighbourhood, does not matter to the women whether her man sleeps with the AK47 that he leaves and comes back with at midnight, doesnt matter if they bring no food, doesnt matter if there are no clothes on her back and her brood too lacks, she will fight for him, because, that man might be useless anywhere else(take the other day they had to riot because there men were losing their libido to the illicit brew around the den at the corner), but that same use less man gives that woman stature. Marriage here is a second maybe i should correct that, its the first identity, they have, and whatever it takes they will cling to it. Beats my logics!!!!

Rumour mill

Aunt Nera, she is nice...always was...taking me in like that, even when an extra mouth to feed in this city is just enormous responsibilty. And am grateful for that, who i dont like that much is just Nita. She picked a fight with me, today in the morning about some suff she is hearing on the grapevine, you know the rumour mill, about me been seen with one of her boyfriends. My foot, Nita should know just because am from some far from civilised village, that is my damn hometown and oh yes am proud of it, that dont mean she can tread on me and put some spirits know what blame on me. Well I had to be mad, mad enough for her to know, she aint bringing that up in the future, mad enough to deny, ok i know you know i met the so called boyfriend of hers, but by ma Gran-pa grave, I did not approach tat wretched boy of a boyfriend he came on to me, and I let him go like some hot cassava, long before Ikanta and I even became best friends! So I am the village hen, making my mark here, and the city gals dont like been talked to like that, so Nita pushes me against the door, and I just grabbed those fake long horses tail on her head, and it all just came out, no kinky hair like mine just some horse tail on her head!
Nita and i share some family blood, we shuld to the least respect each other, but she got it in her head that because am from the village, I got no nothing inside my head. That is an insult to my family background, she can have that fool of a boyfriend but if she abuses where I come from, blood related or not.......i cant take it sitting!!!

Borrowing neighbour

Have been thinking alot, about getting a job. Some work to bring in money. The cost of everything is just too high here. You buy everything even pepper, and onion, just about every little thing. Its not like bak in the village where most of that is just in the garden. I tell you even borrowing sugar from your neighbour is a taboo. You want to loose friends borrow salt from them, you see no one no more. But that is not the only thing, here your neighbour borrows from you, big things like TV and they dont get bak no more. The boys smoking glue, they would tell you where the neighbour went with the TV but they no talk to no one either
When a neighbour gets friendly its because they want to borrow, like the other day Bobo goes to Njoka's house, he has a shop across the burst sewer. But Njoka is not alone, anyway if he was Njoka's wife would not have let him in, he was with a smartly dressed gentleman. Njoka says the gentle man wanted Njoka, they go in but Njoka is out getting stock for his shop. They sit a while, then leave. It could have been left at that, but the gentleman comes bak the next day with a car to get the TV in daylight! Now who no brains person dressed up like that steals TV in daylight. Njoka this time in the house , a fight ensues. who in the ancestors name sold the TV. Gentleman says it was Njoka's wife...HOW she doesnt no nothing. Oh you do, me and Bobo were here, Bobo even got the remote from you for me to test if the TV is in good shape!
HA!! Njoka's wife just goes...blenk. Since when did using someone remote in their house adds up to testing a good in the shop????
Here it does,all Bobo had to do , was to pretend he knows someone in Njoka's house, and fills up the rest of the story with blanks that even Njoka's wife wouldnt catch, but will agree in thinking it is normal coversation, and the deal gets done. So a fool and his money parted, and Bobo was no where to be seen.
Here you have to be really careful they would sell your shoes, and everything you are wearing while you are at the busstop, then come and borrow it, on your way bak from wak in the evening, it happens....so u just dont buy expensive stuff keep it minimal, invincible and always even if you are Njoka, always make sure you have no change available for big money!!!