aged menSo last Saturday I was awake for a whole 24 hours. Yes 24. Don’t judge me, thank you. Late in the night at those evil hours of 3am when the devil and all his cousins go out of their way to raid and rein havoc to humans, a group of friends and I checked in to this new, dope and wicked club on this part of the world. To our surprise, we couldn’t get anywhere to park. How so! This is not Nairobi or Nakuru or Kisumu either, where towns wake up at night. This was a small town, about 200 kilometers North of Nairobi and we couldn’t get parking at 3am?

Along the stuffy corridors were sounds of modern music, coupled with ladies who only knew how to dress from top to the waistline and deliberately ‘forgetting’ to dress their way down. Not a surprise by now. Lucky enough we got an awesome sitting area amid the deafening entertainment, and after minutes of jostling, shoving and brushing off acres and more acres of exposed cleavages and thighs along the way though unintended. I had spent a whole 20 hours with my friends hence no much of talking was to happen at this time of the night apart from us using our eyes to rove around and watch fellows getting down while in the process, mingling in the washrooms with young and aged Team Mafisi Sacco busy hunting or forcing their way to the arguably large number of ladies present.

All went well until I watched something very disturbing unfold right where I was. So this mzee in his mid fifties  for some hours was salivating on this fine chiq who was clinging on his so drunk boyfriend. Actually, the boyfriend was so dead asleep. Apparently to this chap, he saw an opportunity to literally get away with this lady! How some old men put shame to their age is a non issue at this day and age.

After kindu one hour, the lady decided to visit the washrooms and guess what, this Baba-nani fellow, seemingly highly regarded in his village for his vast wealth and well being and with grandchildren half my age trailed this lady to the washrooms like a dog on heat. He camped there for a whole 3 – 4 minutes and later pretended to have also gone to answer a call of nature by coincidence. This bold mzee would do the unthinkable few minutes later. He blocked the lady from accessing her seat. He erected his tired and pot-bellied body right in front of her way and smiled unashamedly.

While contemplating whether to jump on my feet and give this mzee some electrocuting blows and kicks (if only I could gather that courage) and in essence accept to be the sacrificial lamb and worse still find myself up in the air having been whisked by the bodied bouncers, I took my time to decide whether I was ready to pay the price. Meanwhile, the lady shoved off this wicked and titillated mzee and had her way through. At last, I was relieved. I could hear my heart stop racing.

Here’s my problem. Even after married men illegally raiding our hunting grounds and speeding off with all the beautiful lasses (at least from the outside), they still want to get away with our precious girlfriends whom we have invested time, resources, emotions, unrealistic ambitions (2016 resolutions) and our grandfathers’ inheritances to have them in our lives. Now, this can be scary. If it will take several guys to escort our ladies to the washrooms just for the mere reason that some married men can’t tame their exploring libido syndrome, is indeed disturbing.

I simply cannot make sense of this. Can you imagine you dad salivating over a lady, a third his age at a club frequented by the youthful generation, at 4:05 am. This brings me to another point. I have serious beef with men in their mid-fifties and above patronizing entertainment joints where their nephews and nieces check in. Come-on you damn wazees. How do you dance to Wiz Khalifa’s rugged lyrics or Justin Bieber’s latest mellow album at 5am in a place where you naturally look like a headmaster? Give us a break please and get a life. And if you have to frequent these clubs, at least don’t ‘cattle-rust’ our girlfriends. It’s all we can claim to have.

In any case men the age of 55 and beyond choose to visit clubs that play less noisy music or makuti villas somewhere in Umoja Innercore that play great Rhumba music or pride to host a One-Man-Guitar (Miku Rua wannabe). At least not Club Tribeka or Mojo’s of this world. Moreover for the well-oiled, moneywise, imbibe in serene and ‘peaceful’ places like members-only clubs where men in their 50’s and 60’s meet after a weekend of golf or ‘site seeing’ of new projects somewhere in Kitui or Laikipia. They are not to be found in dimly lit clubs where patrons can’t even have a simple conversation due to the loud music.

Being a big fan of Kaka Sungura, I’m just thinking in his popular song dubbed Promised Land featuring Amos and Josh, he should have sneaked a sentence or two going like;

Kidole cha kati kwa wazee wanao mezea wasichana wetu; kidole cha kati kwa akina Baba-nani wanao fanya mapenzi na wasichana rika ya wajukuu wao…..

Merry Christmas dear readers. Don’t over indulge. Be a blessing to the less fortunate people around you and while at it, dare to be a blessing to your family and friends and not a bother.

Frohe Weihnachten und ein glückliches neues Jahr (Merry christmas and Happy new year).


Super kids3With schools closed what could be your kid(s) up to? Probably in up country enjoying shosh’s vibe, while breathing in unpolluted air and making new friends as they go fishing in nearby rivers. In my childhood times, holidays meant lots of grazing, feeding rabbits and listening to radio. That was then. These days kids are more exposed and well accustomed to the evolving technology and it’s advancements.

Now, this week our office welcomed a visitor, an 8 year old boy from my boss’s family friend, who apparently has a desire to acclimatise himself with a typical office set up. While his peers are busy drowning in couches in their well furnished digs playing play stations or watching the latest episode of Empire season 2 or out shopping in the Garden Cities and TRM’s of this world with their affluent parents, this boy is seemingly unfazed and on a whole different mission. This reminds me of a little girl very popular on Instagram, WENDY WAENI. She is only 10 years old, born and raised in Huruma from a humble family background. Wendy started doing acrobats at a tender age of four, and now it has taken her to places she has never imagined. She has performed in front of presidents and many prominent dignitaries across the globe.

Anyway back to this boy, he doesn’t speak any Swahili to start with. His speaks nothing short of refined English. His basic computer knowledge makes fun of his age. In other words, his mastery is not much of a difference from guys thrice his age. His exposure is unrivalled. He types relatively faster than twenty something years old, souls. And at his age, he has a personal laptop which he never leaves behind as he walks in to the office. Meeting him at the corridors chatting with my colleagues or when out for lunch with the most humble jang’o I have met, one Mr. Liech, you’d be forgiven to imagine he is not 8. His curiosity to learn the basics of accounting not in a class set up but in a pragmatic environment has baffled me in the few days I have interacted with him.

His parents must be very proud of their son. He is a sum of all those profound adjectives; Intelligent, disciplined, confident, self-driven, diligent, ambitious, courteous and ………..many more. In fact his confidence levels are so high that they have made him a very inquisitive boy. Seemingly, he is a big fun of contemporary music, an enthusiast of gadgets and a computer geek. One queer character that has made him the talk of the office is his fondness for asking riddles. I have not met a kid who has a more mastery of riddle questions. The situation has been ‘so bad’ to an extent some of my colleagues have been avoiding him.

Riddles are not a cup of tea to every Wanyoike, Ahmed or Stella. They take a toll on us who don’t like ‘over thinking.’ Who the hell came up with riddles? Like why now!! Things should just be the way they are, straight forward and obvious hehehe. To you who schooled in Kiandutu Primary School and later joined Kiaguthu Secondary School, next to River Mathioya, riddles can be a hard nut to crack. Do you know how humiliating it can be a when a sharp looking kid, calls you by name and asks you a question (riddle) that leaves you clueless for a whole five shameful minutes. I thought kids are supposed to look up to adults for knowledge. Nie reke ngwere (let me tell you!) that is unheard of from this annoyingly bright kid.

I’m only left to imagine what his parents go through in a typical evening when they retire home. You know how tired one can be after you check in at home from a busy day only to be met by a bubbly looking boy carrying along a whole bank of knowledge in his mind. That can be so defeating. It means you as the dad, should always be very young and agile in mind as well. Always watering, weeding and basically attending to your I.Q. Without regular refreshing and constantly feeding you brain with knowledge, dealing with such a kid can be very daunting.

This kid will meet you along the corridor and be like;

Boy: Riddle! Riddle!

A poor you will try to respond confidently, meanwhile, urgently summoning all your knowledge ready to take this riddle, only to fail miserably.

You: Riddle (feebly)

Boy: What is it that when you pill its skin doesn’t cry but makes you cry?

Just by the look of your face, this kid will be dealing with an all familiar scenario of ‘humiliating adults knowledge’ so effortlessly. He will give you a suggestive look that will be mischievously asking; who was your grammar teacher? After a whole five wasted minutes, you will give a blank stare only for him to spit the answer in no time.

Boy: Onion.

You: You make a shame-on-me laughter

The boy will not let you off the hook just yet. He will be at it again giving you a second chance. You on the other hand will be promising yourself to do better.

Boy: Mary’s father has five daughters. Namely; Nana, Nene, Nini, Nono and ………….?

You will jump on it very fast trying to redeem your already maimed image.

You: Nunu

The boy will look at you disappointingly.

Boy: It’s Mary! come on. 

You: Shit! How did I miss that?


Welcome to our world of super kids. Kids who are born competitive, detesting the status quo and always strongly believing the world is theirs to conquer. The truth is, we can learn so much from everybody God places in our lives even if it’s for a minute or day. Never write off anybody. By the way this super kid doesn’t own a phone as you’d expect. His parents are conceivably deliberate and painstaking on this.

This super kid has taught me that riddles make one open minded. His drive to try new things that add value to his life is inspiring. One last one; super kids emerge from families that take parenting seriously. Kageshi, Annabelle & Abigail take lessons.




ttthighI’m perhaps hugely conservative when it comes to politics of how women should dress their bodies. Truth be told, no man worth his salt is pretty comfortable when his lady displays her assets all out for anybody who cares to ogle at them. Take this to the bank, any man out there who walks with a lady flaunting all her skin must be wading in the sensational initial stages of dating. After sometime the same guy will drop the excitement exhibited by the popular Team Mafisi Sacco and Team Mabweha Sacco squad (Note there is a difference) at salivating over his chick. Vaunt your body in your digs but don’t parade it out there for every lad to analyse and draw imageries over his defeated mind. Some ladies would ask, how is that their problem? 1 Timothy 2:9 the Bible reads; I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God.

I remember at one time, my day job boss allocated me some task on bookkeeping for one particular restaurant. Incidentally, I came to realise save for the MD who was an intimidating, bald headed mid-forties chap, the rest of the Management including the Operations Manager, H.R.Manager, dropping down to the lower levels of Assistant Accountant, MD’s personal assistant and the receptionist were all females. I have nothing condescending to write about female employees, in any case 70% of my colleagues are females.  (But not once have I agitated in the meetings that we need gender balancing, only for the H.R Manager to shoot me off saying there are hardly any employable guys in the job market.)

Back to my storo, the interesting bit is; all these females wore skirts or dresses that over exposed their thighs. Deliberately or otherwise, their wardrobes had nothing to do with anything that extended below their knees. To them, that was not bold enough and quite unfashionable indeed. The receptionist was arguably the head of this informal department that raised temperatures and raced our blood flow unnecessarily.

Truth be told, brown complexion ladies in these handkerchief-long dresses cause more traffic than the rest. (High five to all my dark skins friends, I have nothing against you. Indeed our friendship knows no colour.) You get my point. This receptionist was an Asian-like breed. With curled, long hair that often danced at her waistline. Yes it was that long. Her legs were unblemished, screaming yellow. Gai!! And a baby face that seemed to have literally jumped over the adolescence stage. Teaming up with rest of the usual suspects, you should have seen the confusion these lasses brought to poor men’s souls working in the kitchen, waiters, security guys or chaps delivering supplies or patrons checking in to book for a weekend getaway.

This reminds me of one Mr. Otieno working as a barman in that place. He was one hell of a long man. (Long in the sense of somebody who had a height that is beyond what is conventionally accepted). Big up to this guy for orienting me to the a million varieties of whiskeys and taking his time to ensure I understood the difference between a gin, scotch and a rum, while I was familiarising myself with the stock schedules. If he was to read this piece, he would attest to what I’m writing today. Of ladies who left our mouth agape and helpless.

I kept questioning Mr. Otieno (was the most friendly bloke), of how they survived with all these collection of unmasked thighs, padded by unperturbed legs in high heels longer than hills in Kisii land. I could touch the pregnant levels of distraction hovering over those quiet corridors. If only the office walls would speak! We were one bunch of cornered souls questioning why life had to be this confusing. But why would a lady have a wardrobe of micro miniskirts from January to December. Is it esteem issues or simply something to do with a personality. Like the whole idea of being drooled at by poor men could be, lifts her moods in the morning or scares away Monday blues. Mr. Otieno and I wouldn’t answer this question. The more we indulged at it, the more intriguing it became.

I know at times you get stuck in traffic and sneak your eyes to the car interiors of motorists on the parallel lanes. Many a times you count not one or two female drivers with their uncovered thighs and all their extended families all out, sitting pretty in traffic scrolling over their phones. I’m not sure whether there was a memo dispatched before I was conceived that female drivers should drive while exposing their thighs. A section of readers will raise qualms with my reasoning citing how is that my business and why I am objectifying the female gender. Point is, I have consistently been vehemently against demeaning of the female gender. However that shouldn’t be construed to allude that as a society it’s okay to encourage ladies to walk in town with thighs widely exposed in order to look cool. It doesn’t sit well with my conscious. Forgive me.

In essence females obsessed with showing lots of their skin are actually perpetuating female objectification. They encourage men to pry on them lustfully. It’s not a question of men being unable to control themselves but of ladies inviting men to the mentality that they can be sex objects, you know!  Case in point; there has been a quiet discourse as to if the very beautiful Dj Pierra Makena uses her sexual appeal to advance her popularity ratings. If in doubt, visit her social media platforms. I’m also reminded of a YouTube clip of her in the gym hoping over this chap hanging on some suspended bars at his waist line, while she’s dressed in a hot pant she goes ahead to perform some very sexual exercises. dj Pierra makena

I recall one time Kageshi was upset by a rogue music video clip that happened to play on the TV screen that had chaps well-dressed but on the other hand, their female counterparts hardly covering anything. To that extent who would be accused of objectifying ladies? Why can’t video vixens dress decently? The very same ladies who lecture us on social media about how they should not be viewed as sex objects are the same that dash out on a Friday evening for a night of reveling, and in the process making it our business to familiarise with every scar on their upper leg or where their stretch marks start and fade.



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