PLATTE-LAND 020: ENTANGLEMENT

Sly and Eunetta love relationship was a secret that was highly guarded leaving little chance if any, to a chosen few. This included Sly’s ex Chris, Shiku and Njagi. It brew in High school right from Form 1 as they shared the same cubicle. They got introduced to it by a Form 3 student who took them as their godmother as it was part of the school’s culture to ensure the Form 1s had someone who would orient them and make them have a soft landing in the institution. Unknown to them, their godmother was a lesbian and as fate would have it, they got acquainted with the unholy fellowship which to date seems not to have lasted its full longevity.

It was next to rare to notice their tight-lipped affair since they toyed with harboring boyfriends from other schools just like any typical teenage girl and would pen down love letters and dispatch them occasionally to the said poor lads. They’d casually mingle with these blokes if not getting new catches during funkies and in the course of inter-school events. The school was rather rampant with lesbianism and had kept alive this infamous tradition for decades now. The school management had miserably failed to tame it, much to its thriving. In fact, at one point one of the school watchmen was found dead on an early morning in what the community around believed he had been allegedly raped by the highly charged girls the previous night, until he passed on.

Sly and Eunetta pursued divergent directions after high school but still kept in touch. The latter would study at Mt.Thondio University coincidentally where Shiku is currently based while Sly joined Matiba University. As Eunetta developed an interest in Software Engineering, Sly was contented with Computer Science though very keen on Journalism. They would later revisit their relationship whenever the dry spell bustle seemed unbearable, though life had weakened their chemistry to a large extent. This had been occasioned by new friends who had infiltrated their lives coupled with a credible turnover of boyfriends which ostensibly came with its fair share of distractions if not ripple effects. Incidentally, at one time Chris (Sly’s Ex) stumbled on the two kissing and cuddling in his house, but their strong bond saved their relationship even though the ugly memories would resurface later when Sly dumped Chris.

From the look of things, Eunetta was in a struggle of her own. She was a no ordinary bisexual. Strangely, she had no particular taste of men. Suffice is to say, she dated any man that she lusted for. Rich or broke, young to old, married or otherwise, bad boys to mama’s boys, from tall to midgets, politicians to technocrats, retirees to pastors, name them. She had an album of untold experiences and bizarre escapades. Money aside, she fantasized feeding her curiosity in bedding any man that seemed elusive. She chased men rather in a sophisticated way until at some point it occurred to her that she could perhaps be battling a medical problem. She didn’t go beyond getting a medical interpretation regarding her queer habits. It remained just a speculation buried in her witty passions far away from Sly’s scrutiny.

On the hand, she had a weighty collection of women she had slept with, too. From the well rounded to the models like. Besides, she created time for her trophy girl, Sly. Speaking of Sly, she was in her own battle zone as well. She tolerated Eunetta for being unequivocally loyal and a lesser evil so to speak but more interestingly toyed with Njagi for far too long. It was no more a secret that Njagi had a clear crush on Sly which she contended with too well while playing along though cautiously. In return, she had successfully converted him to assume the position of managing her erratic emotional struggles. Before the break up with her ex, it didn’t escape Chris’s attention as occasionally he would provoke explanations of the so called platonic friendship whose answers barely scratched the surface as Sly would wrestle to justify.

But more pertinently, Sly seemed to be in a catch 22. She was dealing with a stubborn lecturer who had aided her in the footings of her journalism breakthrough which came at a cost of him intimating for sexual favours from her. When his advances seemed to be falling on a hard surface he resulted to go cannibal.

***

After they were done with the class, Sly received a text message from Mr.Mwangi urging her to pass by the staff room briefly as she made her way home. Her instincts advised her to request Njagi to wait for her at the exit door in the lower floor. It was a few minutes shy of 9 pm. Njagi gladly waited for her as he cultivated a laid-back tet a tet with Hamisi – a security guard and one of his campus buddies. Their friendship had been hatched at the school gym where both of them were active members. They’d tussle on lifting the weights and doing the workouts.

10 minutes or so in the waiting, Njagi grew weary. He decided to take an elevator to the staff room based on 3rd floor to find out why Sly had taken a century-long holed up with a lustful mwalimu. As he made his way he met with Sly’s desperate voice pleading for help. His adrenaline jumped in, and in a split of a second, he banged the door only to meet Sly lying on the floor, her dress slit torn and way above the upper legs, sandwiched by Mr.Mwangi’s legs who in the meantime had been unfastening his belt.

To be continued…

Previously on Platte-land series: After-Party

Sadly Season 2 of Platte-Land series is done and dusted. Watch out for Season 3 sooner or later.

Photo credit: youthvillage.co.za

Advertisements

PLATTE-LAND 015: CUPID

Image result for Mpho khati curvy bodyHe was the Finance Manager of a top horticultural farm in Naivasha. A medium height kind of man, fairly young until you met his landmark pot belly that seemed to aggravate his age. He described himself as a family man. He was a dad to three kids; 2 sons and one daughter. He had been married for eight years now. You could say he was a social drinker, mostly going out on weekends with his childhood friends and business associates.

He met Shiku on one of those nights. She was with her girls, all being her classmates, from a road trip when they made a sojourn at a popular reveling joint in Naivasha. Two hours down the line, a female waiter brought a magnanimous order to their table. A dozen bottles of Heineken, Smirnoff vodka and the Jameson whiskey stared at them, eagerly waiting for the girls’ acceptance speech. There was no way these city slayers would resist such a generous reward, at least not with this economy. Mr. F.M as Shiku fondly referred him had eyed her from the moment they walked in. He had been mesmerized by her seductive body. She is such an angelic lass, c’mon go and get her number. If she denies you, you’ll at least console yourself by having tried your luck – His mind would tease him.

She seemed to have a commanding personality. Her smile was coherent in the same way it was contagious. Her eyes struck the deepest end of his soul. Her dreadlocks exposed her wild spirits depicting her rebellious nature of not conforming to the norm. She appeared to be an intelligent woman. F.M endeared female intellectualism and women who seemed to be eager-beavers. There is a way female intellectualism smells; like the titillating smell of dust when it rains. He had such a humongous soft spot for lasses with mass and substance too. Shiku packaged herself as one.

Speaking of which, F.M had a wife all men pray to marry. She had brains, followed by beauty. She had a profundity of emotional intelligence and quite an aggressive woman. She quit her job to support his dream of being a business mogul. She detested easy money and comfort zone. She also shun the lazy ideology some ladies hold of being mere gate-keepers of their husbands’ wealth. In sharp contrast, she was an abrasive go-getter. She’d travel the high road of nurturing ideas, fueling them to credible business plans, packaging them until they hatched to promising enterprises and consequently conveying the returns to Mr. F.M.

She was that loyal and hands on. Money didn’t tempt her nor inflict a bruise on their marital union. She’d engage him on where to invest the returns. They were great friends and would keep on forgetting they were marriage partners. Her hands had a thing for nurturing and creating products that didn’t exist. She had a creative mind and a subtle personality at hand, to balance life torrents. Unlike many women who are always after salivating their spouses’ wealth, resulting to hiring hit men to eliminate them for easy wins, she religiously believed in the idea of fostering and making marriage last its full longevity.

He had married his chimera woman. His best friend. His favorite illusion of a superwoman. She was a wife who’d speak of tomorrow’s plans dressed in a loose nightwear while lying in bed lulling the slumber mode and F.M would just nod his balding head in agreement. She’d talk about this deal and that order and of deliveries and collecting cheques where. At times she’d be like; Baba Cleophas, you need to look for that mhindi friend of yours  – Mr. Patel. I’m sure he’d be interested in the supply of Mahogany trees we traced near Uganda – Congo border, now that the ban in Kenya doesn’t seem to be lifted anytime soon. And did you ask Kang’ethe if his restaurant exalted the poultry order we made last month?

But beneath that, was a woman who understood F.M’s intrigues and sophistication depth. She knew when he lied and would smell when he warmed up to sultry women. She’d easily decipher when he played mind games with her, besides peeling off all the layers of deceit being schemed in his testosterone glands. She was a woman, F.M couldn’t underestimate.

However, after a close shave encounter with the sensuous Shiku, temptations were bound and rife. His boys cheered him on and so did his alcohol drink. She seemed to be the cheerleader of her squad and that cajoled him more. He was attracted to women who called the shots. And so, after his order was gladly accepted by these campus ladies, protocol would follow next. He’d walk over, pull a sit uninvited, and introduce himself all out of the blues. Interestingly, they blend easily. Their hearts’ lewd desires flooded their eyes, and so they’d occasionally feel the magnetic-pull, whip up their newly nurtured chemistry. By the end of it all, he was struggling in the deep waters of full-blown manias of lust and infatuation, thanks to Shiku.

He talked about his day job and his passion for his family. The more he shared bits and pieces of how fond he was to his kids and wife, the more attractive Shiku found him to be. He’d throw terminologies and adjectives regarding his job description, and how he flies in and out of the country for business-related workshops and trainings. She would marvel at his flawless grammar and wit. Of course, as it happens, his stupor state plus the excitement of conversing with a fine chiq like Shiku did wonders in motivating his commanding English fluency. His cologne was also unrivaled at such unholy hour – she found that weird.  He’d spew chewed information of; Net margins, Forecasts, Cash-flows, Deferred Tax, Equities, Transfer pricing….. and it would sound Greek to her.

You see, Shiku and Maths units don’t cross paths quite often and were akin to that annoying neighbor who plays loud music you have to contend with until fate coughs otherwise. She abhorred Maths in high school after the subject teacher depicted open bias to weaker students in that unit. Mr. Muriuki otherwise nicknamed as Calculus who also poised as the school’s pastor, blatantly humiliated and overlooked anyone who scored less than 45% in his subject. He took it as a personal affront. As it would turn out, Shiku didn’t do well in that unit but still made it to campus thanks to her passion for Art subjects which led her in enrolling for (B.A) Literature at Mt. Thondio University.

Time was lapsing to drive back to Nairobi at least before the morning rise came out calling. The girls were exhausted for driving a whopping 350km in a day and hiking the Menengai Crater. Shiku dragged F.M off the club to the parking bay. They barged into his car and adjusted their seats. He asked for her number.

The next thing he recalled when he rose from his hangover slumber, the morning after; the day had grown legs but the infatuation to Shiku was still blurring his mind. He smiled when he recalled Shiku planting a kiss on his lips and him cuddling her erotic body. He replayed that yesternight memory script like a million times, smiling to himself as guilt peeped whenever he made those blank stares to the ceiling board.

In no time the doorbell rung, beckoning the arrival of his family from church.

Photo Credit: http://www.afrikglamourmagazine.com

Previously on Platte-Land: Break Up

Read Next: Tryst

 

PLATTE-LAND 011: BABY SHOWER

Image result for A BEAUTIFUL AFRICAN LADY PREGNANTShe had 3 papers to sit for to conclude her end of semester exams. Actuarial Science was a course she had revered since her childhood, to emulate one of her uncles who was in a similar profession. Since she was a bright kid, she got enrolled having qualified with much ease. While in class, the baby would kick every now and then depending on her moods and she’d often feel weary and overwhelmed, being a first time pregnancy.

On the other hand, every day was a struggle. Her body was fighting the hormonal evolution taking place as it prepared to usher in a new being. She’d however, mitigate the awful nausea and bristling heartburn with all manner of homemade remedies. Her feet would terribly ache as the stretch marks in her bottom belly stretched farther, giving way to more pains.

“Did you make up your mind?” She queried her husband.

“About what?” Mongoose responded, holding a surprised face with him.

“On staying indoors today to receive the guests later in the afternoon.”

“But……………………” He tried fetching for the politest words around to phrase the statement, knowing too well that Anastasia was super sensitive and nagging at this, third trimester.

“But what?”

“Si Aunt Bobo and Mukami (House-Assistant) are around.”

“Yea, but it’s important for my friends to meet my hubby.”

“But I thought baby showers are a women thing?”

“Which century do you live in?” She slammed the door behind her and walked off to the dining room.

Mongoose joined her trying to calm her down.

“Listen hun, they’ll still have time to meet me when the baby is born. Look, how will I sit up with a dozen women in the same room and be it ease?”

Walking to his face. “It will be my honour if you stayed behind.”

“I promise to make up for this hun. Just understand I need to join my boys for a High school reunion considering that I’m the Treasurer of the Association.” He pleaded.

“If you say so.” Shrugging her arms.

***

Anastasia had sent invites for the baby shower to her close friends six weeks before. It was a day she was literally waiting for. To have her friends some of whom she hadn’t met throughout her pregnancy journey, get the privilege of relishing the moment. It was also an occasion to help her prepare for motherhood in the safe company of her buddies who had apparently, formed a tight bond round her life.

Waithiegeni, was not only her cube-mate for close to 3 years before she moved from the campus hostel, but such a close friend. She walked her through one of her lowest and humiliating moments in life, during the court case. Her self-esteem gravely leaked from all openings there could possibly be, as the community around her didn’t amount to much. She became her foot soldier, ‘right-man’ and defender. She also tirelessly skipped classes to accompany her for the prenatal clinics.

So, when the baby shower thought came to Anastasia’s mind, no one rivaled Waithiegeni in being entrusted to play the role of a chief planner for the occasion. They came up with a friend list and invites were sent well on time.

***

Most of her friends had checked in. The ladies had come along with their A-game fashion sense starting off with Shiku, who stood out with a dark blue high waist jeans that perfectly worked for her hippy body, matched with a white crop top which exposed her lean tummy, that also engrossed a crocodile tattoo and in red high heels. Nizzy had a striped body-con dress and a trendy long coat to cover her exposed thighs. Evelyn was in the mood of white monochrome – she was in a white top tank donned with an elegant wide legged pants. Grace was in a rugged denim pants dressed with a camo jacket and faded brown high boots.

They waited impatiently in the table room as Anastasia got prepared. She took longer than usual in the leisure bathtub since it was more effective than standing over a shower head. She couldn’t stand for long due to her aching feet perhaps owing to her increasing weight. Her makeup and hair styling took even longer. Waithiegeni wore her make up with every zeal that could probably be and with no urgency at all, while Evelyn – her childhood friend set up her tiny and glamorous braids that had been freshly knitted.

Meanwhile, Mukami and Aunt Bobo ran helter-skelter in the kitchen preparing the dishes. They served the guests, starter foods which included; tiny sandwiches, savories, crackers, muffins and nuts, ladled out with typical Kenyanese tea.

Anastasia wore a stretchy fabric free-flowing dress that embellished her bulging belly, beautifully. It was laced round the neck with two inter-closing flaps that kept her bust comfortable and in shape. She wore a pair of classic ballet flat shoes, maroon in colour made of pure leather that honourably complemented her beige outfit. She sported a handmade African bead multi-layered necklace, which performed emphatically in camouflaging her darkened neck, out of the hormonal changes.

The moment she popped at the table room, everyone rose up; some ran to hold her belly and feel the baby, some got dazzled by her dress and got outlived by the moment, while some were awed by her body size. Particularly for Emma who was a childhood friend and hadn’t met in ages, having traveled all the way from Mombasa to grace the occasion, found herself speechless. The last time she met Anasatasia, the latter was just a tiny girl fresh out of high school. Anastasia was overwhelmed by the joy in the room and momentarily, tears started trickling down her cheeks.

When everybody recovered from Anastasia’s disruption, lunch was served. The cuisine was made of kienyeji chicken that her aunt had brought along, all the way from Kaibaga, served with plenty of salad buffet, white rice, minji and sliced chapati. With tummy dignities having been taken care of, introductions took place and a couple of games to make the friends bond.

Later on, a surprise cake that had been prepared by the friends was presented to her but before then, Shiku read out the sentimental speech on behalf of the visitors.

Dear Anastasia, 

We are privileged to be in your small world.

It’s our delight and honour to have been chosen by you, to grace your childhood and early adult life.

Very soon, you’ll be walking to a whole new world full of excitement, fulfillment, warmth and accomplishment. 

It will not be without challenges, nonetheless, let them not bog you down.

Motherhood is not a mean achievement, especially for a girl we’ve seen grow in our lives. 

It’s a mantle you are capable of running away with.

Count us, as your springboard and point of reference.

We will stand by you and look after you.

Moreover, there’ll be much for us to learn.

May you grow to see your grandkids intermarry.

May you steer a family that beholds the Lord and prays together

Congrats baby doll,

From your affectionate buddies.

By the time, the short script was over, Anastasia eye lids were giving way to heavy loads of joyful tears. Soon after, the beautiful cake prepared by Emma on behalf of her friends was presented to Anastasia and it read on the top surface – Welcome to Motherhood Anastasia. Subsequently, gifts would follow ranging from well wrapped nappies, baby shawls, sacks of newborn diapers, wide variety of baby’s clothes, baby carrier, house shopping and some cash too.

By the end of it all Anastasia was dumbstruck, leaving none other than Aunty Bobo to seize the moment and conduct a Vote of Thanks on behalf of the family.

Previously on Platte-Land Series

Next on Platte-Land series: Maternity Ward

Gear up for the final chapter of Platte-Land Season 1, next Monday…

PLATTE-LAND 010: BIRTHDAY

 

Preparations had been concluded well on time. The house had been tidied up and was spotless. Mwau was standing by the door, his clothes all soaked with dripping water. The skies had opened, and it was raining heavily. He had just rolled in from a nearby mall. He had brought along shopping which included; booze, snacks, steak, disposable plates and cups, juices and a couple of other stuff. His girlfriend Mso, had come in handy, in coming up with the; guest list, shopping list and ensuring everything was top notch. She’d easily multi task while Mwau remained seated and clueless most of the time, if not indirectly being made to be the errand boy.

At one hand she oversaw a gigantic dry fry mutton meal steam up while ensuring the deep fried potatoes were coming up nicely at the other end of the multi-burner gas cooker. At the middle burner, a portion of steak was being grilled on a pan. She occasionally brushed the outer layers of the steak and applied some olive oil and a bit of cooking butter. She liberally seasoned it with salt and pepper to give it flavour. Once charred and having turned golden brown in colour, she transferred it to a cutting board where she firmly wrapped it with an aluminium foil to retain the heat and stack it in a safe place, in one of the kitchen cabinets.

Meanwhile, she had delegated Mwau the task of wiping bowls that would serve the crackers, nuts and all manner of bitings. He was also in charge of the music and had the best of the playlist, mostly popular Hip Hop and all the usual club bangers collection. His stereo was a high definition one, that clearly costed him an arm and a leg. His wagithomo dad would be dumbfounded to learn that his son owns a luxurious stereo purchased via funds diverted from paying school fees and worse still, pricier than his battered motorbike.

In no time, the guests would start trooping in. From the outside, the rains had dwindled and invited a biting cold instead. On the flip side, nature had given birth to all manner of insects to welcome the wet night. The crickets were chirping in celebration, as playing mantis dived from one place to another. The beetles were droning in the air as the wasps buzzed around. At a swampy area adjacent to Mwau’s rented apartment, frogs would croak to usher in the night, as a handful of bats screeched from an adjacent tree.

Njagi, Saimo DJ, Mapanya, Shiku, Ka-Penguin, Nizzy, Milly 1st Lady, Kevoo and a couple of other bunch of close friends to Mwau had already checked in. The lads would grab some pop-corns as they played cards and chess games as the ladies retreated at a corner to chit chat and catch up as they gulped a variety of juices. While this happened Shiku would try to make advances towards Njagi who was deeply involved in a chess match with Mapanya, a veteran in the game. In the meantime, Mso was taking a shower while Mwau received more guests.

At round 9pm, meals were served and everybody guzzled for the delicious buffet that included meat balls and fried potatoes, grilled steak and ugali, and fried – chopped mutton that was seasoned with ginger and turmeric powder. The music played louder as the booze was brought in by Mwau from its hideout. Their faces lightened up as they quaffed free booze served in plastic cups. Shiku was the first to be carried away by the exuberant ambiance singing and dancing along to lyrics like;  – as the rest cheered her.

I think you fell in love too fast
African night and a cool rush
And I remember you refused to kiss me
And now you using my toothbrush
You say you think I talk too much
That I’m not your type and you don’t like the hype
‘Cause your daddy is a preacher
Now you wearing my t-shirt
And I don’t want this night to end
Before you know I love you

Short and sweet
DJ play this song on repeat
Odi odi dance to the beat
Hapo ulipo kamata na-feel so sweet
Hapo ulipo kamata na-feel so sweet
Short and sweet

At 12 am Mso quietly tiptoed to the kitchen and over to the top cabinet where she had hid her surprise present to Mwau. She came back fetching a big smile and holding a beautiful cake placed on a tray with a set of cutlery on the side. It was iced artistically – I Love You Babe. HBD. On everybody noticing, the music came to a halt and they all started singing; Happy birthday dear Mwau….. In no minute, everyone was wrestling for Mwau’s face and in tandem, painted him with all colours of the cake’s top creme. His T-shirt was similarly defaced with graffiti from the cake’s content, as he scampered to the kitchen for safety.

Later on, Njagi and Shiku would find a moment to catch up;

Shiku placed her hands on his chest disguising to be trying to zip up his cotton padded half jacket that was yellow in colour. Njagi stood statue giving her all the room to explore. She made a sarcastic cough, as she raised her seductive eyes to meet his face and was like;

Where is your girlfriend?

Which one?

How many do you have?

Can’t trace the number.

Okay, I mean Sly.

You sound jealous.

Because I love you. She said without blinking an eye, maintaining her contact on him and edging closer.

And you think Sly is coming in your way?

Not like it. I know she has Chris and has you as well in her wings to pamper her.

Tell me more…

You see she can’t stand you having a girlfriend. Taking a sip of her reddish concoction. 

But we are just platonic

Platonic is just a word that has lost meaning and credence.

Njagi sighed off trying to suppress his impatience. Tired of leaning on the wall, they were now having the conversation at a far corner next to the fridge. Njagi was seated on one arm of the creme leather sofa while Shiku made herself comfortable on one of his thighs. She was feeling his heartbeat and while inclined on his chest, she felt the best form of emotional healing.

Did I ever tell you I schooled with her! Making a face

No way, Sly?

Yea 4 years in high school, in the same stream.

Wow! Were you ever friends?

Of course not. We were both extroverts that repelled against each other.

Hahaha still are.

And she was alleged to be a lesbian.

C’mon Shiku. Of all the ladies I know of, not Sly. 

They were rudely interrupted by Saimo DJ who staggered towards them, robbing them the steaming conversation.

Meanwhile, Kevoo walked out to have a cigar only to meet Nizzy at the balcony, one hand akimbo while the other reaching for support at the wall, leaning forward, struggling to puke. Apparently, she had mixed Smirnoff red vodka with a soft drink and the concoction had decided to humiliate her body. Every spew left her feeling weaker, with tears dripping on her face involuntarily. Kevoo forgot about his cigarette break, dashed to the kitchen and got her some warm water. By the time he came back, she was catching a breathe from the soft wind, clasping her hands on the balcony grills, while gazing at the magnificent dotted lights on the horizon from suburbs far a way seen from Mwau’s apartment. He went back and prepared mint tea to prevent any nausea she could have been experiencing.

At another corner, Ka-Penguin was sandwiched by Mapanya’s strong biceps as they savored their amorous moment. She’d rub his attractive arms as she laughed sheepishly to his comical tales. In the meantime, the music had slowed down, the energy had frozen and World Cup pep talk was commanding the audience leaving non-football enthusiasts with no piece of the meat to bite, hence choosing to lay their bodies on any available surface for some slumber.

Previously on Plate-Land Series

Next on Platte-Land series: Baby Shower

 

PLATTE-LAND 008: IN LAWS

Related imageAnastasia is 5 months pregnant. Her belly has started to bulge as her neck darkens by the day. She occasionally wakes up with morning sickness – feeling dizzy, nausea, headache and backache. While heartburn is a frequent occurrence, her skin is glowing and appears way softer. Her bust is increasing in size perhaps gearing up to have capacity for the baby’s milk.

In the next 3 months, she will have to defer her studies as she prepares to take on motherhood. Luckily, this will coincide with the long holiday break, meaning she will not cut short her classes in the middle of the semester. She has now coped with her predicament of studying while being expectant, besides struggling to forget the infamous drama that led to her pregnancy. Her friendship with her circle of buddies has been highly tested, with some choosing the easier way out – of ridiculing her in the periphery, instead. Such is life!

Her relationship with Mongoose has been grossly underfed of late, possibly due to the sharp focus and sensitivity of the matter at hand and going by the court’s ruling. Over and above that, the two families have limited their communication to each other, and left it at the mercy of emissaries to dispatch information back and forth. Predictably, the two family ties have been marred with heightened tension and caution.

Nonetheless, she has now reconciled with her folks after the dramatic ending to the case proceedings where she let the cat out of the bag regarding the alleged rape. As a matter fact, her family has fully embraced her pregnancy journey and showed lots of support. They regularly visit her in school to find out how she is fairing besides getting her an assistant to help in house chores. They’ve also rented her a spacious apartment since the hostels are way congested.

However, today, Anastasia’s family will be expecting visitors at their home. A powerful delegation from Anastasia’s boyfriend – Mongoose, will be paying a visit having notified and requested to pay a courtesy call to deliver a special message. On receiving the request through three gentlemen that visited Anastasia’s dad recently, Pastor Muchoki consulted his kins from the association of Athuri a Jung’wa as well as his family regarding the visit. The three gentlemen had come armed with a handful of shopping, a 20 litre jerrycan of muratina and some cash. After a lengthy consultation, Mongoose family was given a nod to the visit.

In forethought…

Anastasia was looking forward to the visit that would determine the fate of her relationship with Mongoose. They’ve barely talked much for the last five months and she’d wonder what’s within the special message his men would come forth with. Would her supposed in laws demand for the baby after the delivery and denounce her in totality? Would it be another set of court cases regarding the custody of the baby? Would he pledge to sustain the love for her as he always attested even after such a horrifying expose of their intimate moment? Would Mongoose’s family take responsibility and show commitment to her pregnancy and future of the baby? Would it turn out that she was meant to be a single Mum after-all?

For Mongoose, he was also caught up in the fizzy cobwebs of uncertainty. He wondered if Anastasia would stick to him even after her personal life was pealed off and subjected to the public gallery. It was a mystery according to him to imagine whether, their once highly guarded secret relationship would ever heal and recover from the beating it underwent 5 months ago. On the other hand, reality was sinking that he’d be someone’s dad in a couple of months, prepared or not. Life seemed punishing and on a vengeance mission. Fortunately for him, he always loved Anastasia. He was struck by her right from childhood when they met during inter-schools sports events and in church where they were enrolled in the same class of catechism.

D-Day

Unlike in a dowry event where a convoy of cars sneak in a village with all manner of gusto and theatrics, hooting and blinking their headlights, the maiden visit that is mostly for in laws to get to know each other, and the guy’s family to formally visit the girls home, is usually muffling and tensive.

Mongoose delegation arrived few minutes after 2 pm but before then, they made a stopover at Ol-Magogo township for housekeeping purpose, and to ensure they were strategic in all their communication lest they’d would be denied a green light for gods know what the special message entailed. They pulled at the gate and Anastasia’s brothers ushered them to the vast compound dotted with all manner of indigenous trees from the Casuarina, Moringa, Waterpear, Fountain Tree and Fever tree just to name a few. Suffice is to say, Pastor Muchoki has a soft spot for the environment, backed by a short stint at Kenya Forest Service, fresh out of campus. Here, he developed a liking for conserving the environment. He has many tree nurseries round his farm which he sells to the villagers.

They were officially welcomed by the chair of Athuri a Jung’wa in the sub county of Kimahuri Mr. Githendu Ndideko who never left behind his symbolic walking stick, Anastasia’s eldest uncle – Sir Waishigo Wakagoshi who was fond of keeping a he-goat beard at his chin and Kwa Nguku’s Nyumba Kumi chair Mr. Konyeki Mwihau. Pastor Muchoki was few meters behind in tandem with other family members and friends. Mongoose’s delegation had a set of six men. Shortly after, everybody settled in the house and the women served meals after a short prayer session led by Mrs.Justina. With hunger pangs having been taken care of, formal introduction from both parties followed next.

Mongoose sandwiched by his dad and Uncle Wamathanwa, was inevitably quiet, would seem subdued and avoided eye contact with his presumed in laws, for reasons best known to him. Meanwhile, an anxious Anastasia was holed in her room massaging her belly and occasionally peeping at the door trying to discern if there’d be someone sent to fetch her.

Mr. Waishigo took over the MC role by throwing the ball to Mongoose’s delegation requesting them to state the reasons for their visit. He alluded that according to their culture, it’s the guests who come with the news; good or bad. Uncle Wamathanwa who was the spokesman of the other delegation gladly welcomed the statement.

Wamathanwa: First and foremost I wish to thank you for your hospitality and warm welcome. We clearly feel at home. We’ve enjoyed the sumptuous meals and drinks. Now, we’ve brought this young man sitted next to me. Taking a glance at Mongoose like he has never seen him before. I will invite him to tell us his reasons for requesting us to accompany him to this honourable home.

All eyes rolled over to Mongoose who clearly looked intimidated by the age of the men eagerly waiting for a solid and coherent message, communicated with eloquence and confidence. He felt the weight on his shoulders of being the man who’d tickle the bubble and deflate the tension in Pastor Muchoki’s home, that was housing this very defining moment.

Mongoose: Well, thank you everybody. Aah, I requested my family to accompany me as I visit this home to officially request to be given a chance to marry off your daughter Anastasia and begin the dowry process.

Waishigo: So, are you responsible for impregnating her?

Mongoose: Stands up. Yes I am.

Waishigo: Okay, sit down. He walks out to have Anastasia traced.

Awkward silence….

Waishigo: Anastasia, do you know this man? Pointing at Mongoose.

Anastasia: Yes I do.

Waishigo: How so?

Anastasia: He’s my boyfriend.

Waishigo: Okay. You can leave. Anastasia calmly walks out of the room.

Githendu: On behalf of Anastasia’s family we would like to say the following; That we thank you for the respectful gesture of visiting this home. We’ve listened to your message and taken note. We accept your request to have Anastasia married off to your family. However, according to our traditions, it’s a taboo to discuss anything relating to the dowry process and to commence it, until the unborn baby is delivered. Moreover, you’ll have to ensure Anastasia completes her campus studies uninterrupted and we expect that you’ll clear all her school fees going forward.

Wamathanwa: As the family of Ezekiel Kiarie (Mongoose), we are most obliged. We’re humbled to have our plea honoured and are fully satisfied by the response passed across. We also concur that the dowry process can only be begun when the baby is born. Having said that, we didn’t come empty handed! We have thirty thousand shillings and some shopping in our cars as an appreciation for the kind gestures we’ve received from this honourable home and more importantly, as a sign of commitment for better days ahead.

Hands over the cash to Mr. Waishigo. Mr. Waishigo counts it to confirm the amount with no urgency, spits saliva on it and hands it over to Pastor Muchoki’s eldest son – Umbriska Maithori.

Mongoose and Anastasia were requested to hold hands as they were blessed by the elders from the two families. A closing prayer session was conducted, followed by hearty handshakes and hugs.

Women ululated from outside as the ceremony came to an end. Anastasia was officially handed over to Mongoose’s family to start over her marriage life.

Mongoose’s inner voices cheered him up – Bro, who breaks a lady’s virginity and goes ahead to marry her! That aside, where do you find virgins at this day and age? You are a god-man!

Next on Platte-Land series: Apology

Photo Credit: Amira Africa

 

WE, THE SOCIETY OF ‘APPROVALS’

The rich and the poor truly are from different realms: one has adapted to become an expert in material forfeit; the other has forfeited all they are to material, and thus is enslaved, by it.” – Justin K. McFarlane Beau.

We are the bubble that will burst soon from material enslaving and obsession with show offs. We perceive ourselves rich while in reality, we are heavily indebted humans. Not only have we shattered what is considered good but also auctioned the patience and virtual of becoming successful gradually. We are using shortcuts and loans to smell successful. We are borrowing way too much to look trendy and urbanite, naively passing the buck to our sons and daughters and their offspring. We are the people that believe in only living once by unfortunately have our priorities misplaced and swapped with the expectations of our peers. We live for the expectations of our families, family friends and for the status. We choose what to buy (not invest) to feed the imagination we have of what others expect of us. In other words; we have no time to hold candid and honest discussions with ourselves. We live for others. We live for approvals. Sadly!

You see, many of us have been lying to ourselves that we are wealthy and successful going by the lifestyle we brag of. But how are you rich, if your liabilities exceed what is rightfully yours? And what’s yours shouldn’t be necessarily what you inherited from your family. By the way, there is nothing wrong with taking bank loans, but there is something very wrong when that money is used for things which won’t matter two years from now. The thing is, we are borrowing not to invest but to finance our lifestyles. Since nobody will notice your sagging indebtedness apart from perhaps your bank, you will sink in deep s*** towing this demeanor like you own half the world and pulling no stops in social media streets selling your imaginary smooth life for all to envy. For how long? Remember, perceived friends can be a pain in the a** especially when you go broke or rather; when they stumble on the truth.

You and I should refuse to be put under any pressure by family and friends. We should vow not to care whether they approve us or not. It won’t matter because, what they seem to do is show no respect to our priorities, anyway! Look at it this way; do you go out every Friday because you have the urge to do so or to making us aware of your high end friends and fancy places where your boys and yourself, go to unwind. Do you get worried when your kids school in schools that do not meet the expectations of your friends or your occupational status? Or is it about the complexion of the girl you date? Or the engine cc of the car that you drive? Or the estate you dwell in? Or your profession? Or where you go for salon? Or is it about your not so 1 billion worth church which haven’t qualified to have church mums and dads? Dear reader; please cut the slack and start living. Drop the baggage and the blurring euphoria. Learn to choose friends, breathe life to your goals and passions, follow the basics in life and develop a relationship with money.

Speaking of money;

Many of us have been caught in the neck of woods of drowning in debt and the addiction of credit cards purely for approval. Come to think of it this way; why would one spend a staggering sh.5 million to hold a wedding that does not last a year? Practically, it means this couple rushed out, assumed much and got deluded by societal approvals. To others it’s all about the looks and the pocket size. Why? Because your family and friends put that as a top priority! Since the poor you would never contemplate shaming them, you marry looks and a bank account only to realise later your dissimilarities and approach of life are too overwhelming. Funny enough, you don’t quit but soldier own to pay the price of approval. And when push comes to shove, your hands and legs get chopped off!

There is a trap in the name of a bubble that we all fighting to be associated with. The middle class syndrome. We are grappling with all in our possessions, creating innuendos and perceptions in the streets of social media that we duly belong to this class of society. We are using financial shortcuts and bribing ourselves to this envied life. From our pricey phones to fancy apartments to where we go for shopping – we are borrowing to enjoy this life. But what’s in it. Only one thing stands out; The feel good effect. I like to call it, The Nairobi effect. By the way, to you Nairobians that seem not to speak the local dialect even when you visit up country; we are aware of which side of Nairobi you reside in. With all fairness, your up country is cleaner than where you live, so cut the slack. The tendency to pretend your heritage and background is not from the village is not only farfetched but pure disgust.

Dear imaginary middle class, I know you believe in faking it till you make it. While at it, don’t make it up with mortgages that seem to trounce your very existence. Please don’t fake it if you still owe HELB some money. Cut the slack too if you have been blacklisted by Mshwari and or have defaulted numerous bank loans. Spare us if you reside in a grabbed piece of land that houses your bungalow, financed by embezzled funds. The middle class bubble is very seductive but when a time comes for hard facts to spill; it will expose your annoying under belly. Your offspring will have it tough footing your lifestyle baggage that did little to make the life any better. Do you wish to die of curses or of Approvals? What’s in your bucket list? What’s keeps you awake you in the night? Is it your dreams or the expectations of others? Do you ever think of yourself or all you do is feed other people’s expectations?

Do your math!!

WEDDING COMMITTEES & THE CHARACTERS

weddingThe other day a female friend sent me a text message reading that I had been invited to a wedding committee. Actually, she was not really a friend but one of those people who possess your number by mistake. You know, there are those people who shouldn’t have your number, but they have it anyway and there is nothing you can do about it. The bad thing is that they will use it to invite you to wedding committees while in reality the two of you can’t sustain a two sentence conversation. You console yourself with the fact that your number stays dormant, cold and feeling out of place in their phonebooks. It’s hardly used.

Back to the wedding committee; What followed is that I was added to a Whatsapp group!

Two things;

One – If I have to be in a wedding committee then I have to be a mutual friend to the couple.

Or

Two – I have to be invited by the man, meaning that dude will have been my friend by the time he is inviting me to this committee.

If neither of the two – I will show up at your wedding day with my present of course!

The thing is, not everybody should be part of a wedding committee. There should be a criteria and something like benchmarking in deciding who should or shouldn’t qualify to this endeavour. This shouldn’t be a meeting where you gather acquaintances, would-be friends, frenemies, secret admirers, phantom friends or familiar people. And by the way, as a lady leave the functioning of the wedding committee to the man. You can help him come up with the list of trusted friends and relatives but this does not mean going all out fishing and combing-clean social media streets smoking out friends (stalkers) and dragging them to wedding planning forum half asleep. Neither is it a time to start looking for erstwhile friends whom you haven’t spoken to in a decade and then converting them to wedding committee members.

You know, there is something beautiful and manly about being invited by the man to this kind of a committee. From a man’s perspective, it reads recognition and appreciation. My point is, as a woman please focus on the gown, wedding cake and that humorous lady who perfects in cake cutting as she engages the crowd. Men are poor in these three tasks.  And for your information, a wedding is an expensive affair, save enough before imagining of who should be invited to the committee.

Assuming you will be convinced or feel the need to attend one, this is who you will meet. By the way it’s terrible to bank wholly on the wedding committee. They will fail you big time if you are not cautious. This is how it plays out;

You invite a hundred fellows, 30% turn up, 70% will never show up, respond to your texts nor pick your calls the moment they smell you need to part with their money. The 30% that turn up, 20% will only attend the maiden meeting just to be noticed and to see who has been invited and who didn’t make it to the list. These are people obsessed with titles and big man syndrome. This is how the rest will unfold:

Observers

Among the 15% out of the 30% that choose to attend, will be a group of the so called Observers. They will check in on time but will never contribute a point. They remain nailed on their seats, mum and occasionally on their phones. You can label them see no evil; hear no evil kind of people. They are mere observers rich in silence, big in attendance and zero on impact. End result – huge disappoint.

Phony People

These are quite interesting creatures better than observers. They contribute just one point in a two hours session and then drift to their pricey phones. Here they take selfies projecting how they are holed up in a big-wedding-planning and share them on social media. They will regularly walk out to pick calls and later comeback to remain glued to their damn phones. They will make it their point to ensure everybody notices their expensive smartphones by the time the meeting is done. Normally they walk in possession of two to three phones. End result – Below average

Technical Appearance Groupies

These chaps will check in to be seen they attended. They show no regard to the agendas of the day or any concern to how the wedding plan is progressing. They show up for 5 – 10 minutes and walk out in disguise of making a phone call. End result – Zero

Apology Lot

They throw perceptions of being very busy people. If they ain’t catching a flight, then they could be driving up country if not jumping to an important meeting. They specialise in giving apologies even on the actual wedding day. End result – Miserable

One Hit Wonder

They show up either on the maiden meeting or the very last one. They are a huge disappointment if one banks on them. They come to assess and gauge whether they should attend in future. They are big on promises but zero on delivery. End result – A mistake to have been invited!

Noisemakers

They are very social guys. They make friends effortlessly and create networks in minutes. To them, they view people as viable avenues to market their businesses, get county tenders, clinch jobs for relatives or buy or sell cars. End result – Fairly reliable.

Trusted circle

These could be close relatives, office colleagues or trusted friends. They are the main decision makers and major initiators of meeting agendas. They are tasked with specific responsibilities from Committee leaders (Chairman, Secretary & Treasurer), Transport Managers, Entertainment heads, Tent & Decor docket and tasks to find the best and affordable Photographers & MCs. End result – Extremely important

Big Kahunas/Financiers

Normally very influential personages, they are extremely critical. They have resources or connections to ensure the wedding is successful. They will avail cars, seek wedding venues and finance the wedding budget significantly. End result: extremely helpful

Wedding committees have been watered down over the years for two main reasons. One, the organisers have not been paying attention to the principle that no everybody should be invited. We are obsessed with numbers which in many a time end up to disappoint. I can confirm to have participated in a lean wedding committee that ended up delivering beyond expectations. The advantage with a small team is that, it’s easy to manage, to allocate specific tasks and to hold them accountable. Again, a smaller team works harder to prove they are equal to the tasks allocated.

Secondly, we are people that do weddings just to be noticed. That said, a majority don’t save enough for the big day but burden relatives and friends to finance their budgets. We do weddings we can’t afford just to smooth our egos and form the talk from the villages, church, office and to other social circles.

Let’s cut the slack and do weddings when we are sincerely ready.

 

 

 

 

UGANDA AND THE NOISY PALS

Forested roadMy friends abducted Kageshi and I, lobbed us into this moving car and before we knew, we were in the middle of nowhere. Speeding in a picturesque road akin to what you watch in the movies that have these beautiful yellow petals littered on it. A clear highway with no meanders or speed bumps or kids playing football along the road. A clear tarmac sandwiched by a healthy forest. The sun setting in the far end of the horizon and birds chirping joyously on the sideways as I rolled down the windscreen to let in the alluring and unpolluted air. Speaking of which, there was no littered garbage or blocked drainage or smelly, black smoke getting lost in the clouds. It was heaven on earth; calm, serene and peaceful environment lucky to have responsible neighbours considerate enough to take care of the surrounding ecosystem.

The road took us to a restaurant situated in a deserted getaway with no sounds of boda boda, matatu hooting or sounds of any human activity. We pulled off at the main entrance and after the usual basic inspection of the car we were ushered in. Jumping off excitedly, I would smell the love in the air. It was valentine weekend and I was in this epic place for a perfect valentine escapade. The hotel was designed in gazebos that would form a particular pattern, emphasizing privacy and comfort. We ordered drinks (read wines) and savoured music from the live band set up at a strategic place, with clear sound and command of love ballads we grew listening to from KBC Sundowner, back in the day. Cool, nostalgic music that took one to the moon and back and permeating deep through our bones.

The lead singer being one Sir Ngasha, a graceful, fairly tall, 50 year old-like man, armed with a gold-complexion guitar, boots to the knee, brown leather jacket, tacked in shirt and of course donning a kuyus Cowboy hat, effortlessly serenaded our hearts. He had a Jeff Koinange demeanor; Likeable, authoritative voice and a character marked by wit, humour and intelligence. By 6:30pm more well dressed urbanite souls would check in to kill a night, take stock of their lives and celebrate love. All I spotted were couples outdoing each other in laughter, fun and merry making and amiable waiters dressed in half coats and bow-ties making a million strides along the pavements with their symbolic trays; bringing in more drinks, wine glasses and something to bite.

As dusk set in, cylinder like jikos were brought in with glowing fire that distracted the heated conversation as everybody endeavoured to warm his/her hands. This place was cold. Having been set up next to a river that passes towards the south of the hotel it tends to lower temperatures at night. In this particular gazebo we had businessmen/women, office peeps and a lady from Uganda who stared at her noisy friends speak street-Swahili mindlessly, doing little to help her grab a word or join in the laughter. They even switched to a local dialect at some point, when effects of whatever they were imbibing started taking charge. How so? Haha. I’m not mentioning names.

With this kind of ambiance, there can never be a dull moment. The conversation combed every social discourse in the public sphere from Men who travelled to Eritrea, to the 5 month pregnant woman battered by her husband, to politics and more politics. We are a political nation I tell you, save for football. From conversations in the Matatus to the barbershops we are obsessed with how JAP or CORD will win the Malindi by-elections if not about which party will register more voters ahead of 2017. Remember we stripped off Tunoi, frog matched him in the social media streets and dumped him in a dark, lonely corner and moved on swiftly. Not that I cordon corruption.

I tried to engage this Ugandan lady whom I will name Kisembo which means babies are gifts from God in Uganda. I liked her Ugandan accent. It reminded me of The Hostel TV programme. What became of TV? I totally lost enthusiasm. UgandaAnyway, I asked my new acquaintance how she rated Kenya and Kenyans at large. And her response was marked with this appalling look and excitement about her short stay in Kenya. I’d tell she played diplomatic with that whole convo marvelling about how a great weather we’ve got, sijui warm people, Nyama Choma and our entrepreneurship skills. Really? Kwani how are Ugandans, or Taiwan or Thailand.  Readers from these countries need to write to me about their way of life. Forgive me for not travelling much, I wouldn’t appreciate how warm and extraordinaire we are without your feedback.

I also enquired if it’s indeed a fallacy that Uganda women are quite submissive to their husbands to an extent of kneeling down whenever greeting them. She was like; Yea thati usseeeed to happeni buti ish gradually being swiped offfu by Westernization calchaz. (Inserting Luganda accent)

So, I asked Kisembo, how on earth they have sat pretty with one President for 30 irking years and worse still, how he is a top favourite to win in the coming elections? Does it mean there are no fresher brains to lead Uganda, honestly? To my surprise, a typical 20 something old Kisembo doesn’t give a damn about politics leave alone breaking a sweat in wondering who will ever oust Museveni. She detests politics. And as you would guess, that story got buried as soon as it clinged to life. Apart from one Stella Nyanzi a fiery writer from Uganda who is so charged up to see the end of Museveni’s era, surely the rest of Ugandans can do more.

With Kisembo teaching me a few phrases in her native language I wouldn’t help flaunt my new Luganda talk.

Hi? ……………Ki kati?
How are you?………….Oli otya?
I am OK…………….Gyendi
Have a nice day…………..Siiba bulungi
Good night…………….Sula bulungi (on retiring)
Welcome……………….Tukusanyukidde
See you later……………….Tunaalabagana
Please………………Mwattu

Thank you……………Weebale

Munyonyo………..Very much

Finally, it was a wrap having enjoyed dinner with Kageshi and my noisy friends. By the way, its parochial to tolerate a thought that Valentine is a barometer that measures your degree of love.

Signing off as one super happy Arsenal earthling…Chao!!

 

 

MEN WHO GO ‘CLUBBING’ AT 55

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).

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: