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Njagi happened to have taken part in a back to school discotheque event that was organized last December holidays at the outskirts of Kahuruko Township by high school and campus students from his village and the neighboring. Predictability, given his mother’s strict adherence to church and considering she was the leader of praise and worship, there was no way Njagi would dare harbor imaginations of being granted permission to attend an ungodly event organized by ‘lost kids’ who own phones more worthy than Madam’s Kui entire second-hand clothes stock value.  Further, these were kids brought up by the so-called ‘busy’ parents who had no time for them. How could Njagi have a commonality with them? Kui would wonder.

Unimaginably, the power of peer pressure overwhelmed Njagi, as he was among the attendants who turned up for this popular event. The likes of Prof. Mwau, Mapanya, Saimo DJ, Milly 1st Lady, Nizzilicious, Mongoose, Anastasia, Ka-Penguin and many others from Nduduri, Kwa Huku and Kia Ndutu villages had equally checked in. Interesting Mwaura aka Prof.Mwau had been nicknamed Prof back in Kia-Ndutu Primary School for carrying his books in a briefcase that had seen better days bequeathed from his Mkorino dad, instead of a school bag, much to the ridicule from the rest of the pupils. Prof’s dad was also known for his ever overgrown and bushy beards and white suits dressed all round the week. Ka-Penguin on the other hand, got her name despite being the creme of the class with her consistent top grades, due to being overly short, hence the pupils teased her that she’d easily be confused to a ‘small bird.

Back to the event, music played loud and booze was in plenty stretching the event to the dark and evil hours of the night. As you’d expect with teenagers and young adults full of life, machismo and vitality, stuff happened. Dancing crews outdid each other while the energetic audience cheered them on. Judy and Lilian, dressed in very raunchy hot pants literally brought the house down with their erotic moves and boneless bodies. At a far corner, teenagers as young as 16 years were sucking on shisha pipes never mind it was banned, engulfing the entire ambiance with their colourful puffs. Meanwhile, outside the parking bay, you could only hear moans and groans of things boiling up from lewd millennials.

Njagi out of influence kissed Shiku and he didn’t like it. He was engaging in a kissing escapade for the first time and the entire experience was incredibly awkward. Shiku seemed to have enjoyed the 30 seconds act but Njagi could have none of it given a second chance. He wondered how people did it so comfortably and called it romance. He felt like he just tasted cement or black cotton soil. Shiku had always had a crush on Njagi and since she was obviously under the influence, took advantage of her state and grabbed Njagi’s arm and dragged him outside the main arena to a dark corner behind a neatly manicured cypress fence where things unfolded. Darkness seemed to wipe off Shiku’s shyness as she took full exploits of the opportune moment to confront her desires.

The taste of his tongue and saliva took her to cloud nine – it was heavenly, beautiful and more than fulfilling. She was intertwined to his body, holding his cheek bones with both of her soft palms and locked to his torso. She didn’t even notice she had raised her feet to match his height. Njagi could feel his heartbeat synchronized with hers, racing like the Jehova Witness drums. A salacious warmth rising from Shiku’s crotch emasculated his slim legs and he knew he was almost crossing the red line to a place of no-return. He couldn’t figure out why stuff happened that fast, and quickly left Shiku catching her breath. He would dash back to the main arena and continue dancing while Shiku still pitched in the dark, found herself making sense of what she had orchestrated, unsure whether to cheer or jeer herself.

Eventually, some got laid, some broke their innocence, some kissed for the first time, some conceived, some were allegedly raped, while some got their names presented to Chief Kiahuthu – a hard-headed, bullish and long human being who’d not fit through any standard door.

Apparently, Anastasia a 1st year campus student and who was Pastor Muchoki’s affectionate daughter was allegedly raped and would later conceive. Names were presented to the local administration and investigation commenced in earnest headed by Chief Kiahuthu. Njagi’s name was among the list of 10 lads who were suspected to be behind the ordeal. Shushu Damaris and Kui – Njagi ‘s mum, could not believe it. They had every benefit of doubt that Njagi would engage in such a heartbreaking act let alone attending an event he wasn’t permitted.

A few days later, the boys would be whisked by plain-clothe police officers and taken to the chief’s camp. DNA samples would be taken and subsequently locked at Chief Kiahuthu temporary cell awaiting to be released on a cash bail that was to be raised within 48 hours failure to which they’d be formally charged at Kahuruko Law Courts pending completion of investigations which included establishing if Anastasia was allegedly raped.

Shush Damaris on receiving the dumbfounding news, swiftly sent a special message across the villages declaring the envious bull that belonged to one of his sons by the name Wamaruke was on sale. This was a desperate attempt to raise money to bail out his grandson from more torment and shame notwithstanding he was a suspect in the alleged scandal. In no minute, word razed across the households more so to Kiamaiko abattoir brokers’ who descended to her homestead with all manner of wit and exhilaration. Just as she was almost striking a deal with one of them, her phone rang eluding some fairly good news that the boys had been bailed out by a village tycoon by the name Kimendoro who was said to be eyeing Kiandutu MCA position come 2022.

Njagi resumed his classes a very worried man. His mum was even more disappointed by him. His conscious was clear though, that he knew nothing about the rape ordeal or when it took place either. But he still blamed himself for ignoring his intuition to remain at home and not to attend the infamous bash. He had let down his own legacy and tainted his family image as well. However, he was still convinced his name was dragged in there for collateral damage. This was pure malice and uncouth, well according to him. He was convinced his god would pluck him from this den of lions that not only seemed to threaten his bright posterity but his very present life. He couldn’t clearly figure out how life behind bars would be like for a crime not committed. He’d die of pain and bitterness.

The subsequent semester wasn’t rosy for him as investigations ran concurrently with his studies. He had to let in Sly to his suck of anguish otherwise he’d have to explode and crash to small remnants. They met at the indoor games hall to watch some table tennis matches.

“Sly, something terrible happened to me during the holidays.” He jeremiad.

Sly was so drawn to the game playing, between the mischievous Mitch who was the class’s most likable and popular classmate courtesy of his wit, charisma and humorous nature and Harrison who was ever annoyingly tidy and sharply dressed with a conservative demeanor. She quickly rose her head moving her sight away from the boys to Njagi with a straight face punctuated by sympathetic eyes. For half a minute their eyes were locked to each other with hardly a word coming from either of them. Sly’s body language hinted to Njagi to get up for a hug but he played it down.

“What happened dear, tell me.”

Njagi’s heart was dazzled by the name dear, momentarily.

“It’s a long story, but to cut it short, I’m under investigation for something nasty that happened during a back to school bash just the other day.”

Sly, couldn’t hold it. They walked out in a lethargy state, Njagi trying to explain himself out as if she’d supposedly bail him out.

Next on Platte-Land Series:  Stalemate

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shishNjoki Chege wrote an article about ladies who smoke shisha which went ahead to cause a stir from the blogosphere, vomiting its hard truths in the streets of social media to the not so amused large number of urbanite generation. Of course the reaction was predictable. It’s politically correct to put it this way; that contemporary men are at peace with women who pull heavy gasps of tobacco down to their three decade old lungs and let out dark clouds of oscillating smoke that lazily finds its way to the stuffy air at 3am in an entertainment joint. Very few would disapprove this fact.

But when the same is practiced by kids who are graduating from adolescence; boys who have half a dozen years ahead of them to grow beards and high school girls whose most valuable assets are smartphones, then the rain won’t stop beating us anytime soon. We will be swept by raiding floods of evil without huruma!(Mercy). The so called contemporary parents will bury many of their kids even before they clear college. They will die out of excess freedom, careless parenting and from worship of Western cultures. They will die with lungs reduced to ash trays no different from street kids who spend years sniffing glue. Shisha people and glue sniffing street kids have no difference only separated by access to money.

Somebody said on TV the other day, that parents nowadays are raising career kids. I strongly agree. We are a people that are putting too much focus on kids’ performance in schools at the very expense of family values. That since your son or daughter is in a competitive National school and scoring good grades; he or she is treated as a demigod. Their behaviors aren’t questioned nor raise parents’ eyebrows. They are pampered from kindergarten age to when they marry and thereafter. Any mess that is reported, is blamed on the teachers. Teachers, drug peddlers and bar men understand these kids more than the parents!

Just before schools opened from the last April holidays, I checked into this entertainment joint. Apparently, there was an organised Salsa dancing competition. What my friends and I found out was that most of the participants were high school kids. It must have been past 11pm. I’m talking about teenagers who had sneaked from their parents’ homes or rather allowed to be away for the night to participate in a salsa competition at a nightclub mingled by adults of all walks of life. How mindless can parents be? Of course they couldn’t afford beer, but smoked shisha in turns until cockcrow hours. They stirred the section we were seated in, burying the rest of us with heavy billows of shisha smoke. Occasionally as the ecstatic night dragged on, these high schools kids would assemble together and in turns religiously pull humongous puffs and let out white waverings of smoke that would leave behind blurred illusions. In fact, by the time we stepped out, we must have drawn in kilos and kilos of shisha from secondary smoking.

At another end was a young lady accompanied by a guy, who seemed to be her partner. Every time my eyes pounced on her, she was always breathing in, holding diligently the shisha pipe for minutes that would drag to half an hour or more. She was beautiful, with a glowing skin, dangling hairs and if you happened to bump on her during the day, her eyes would flatter you with the innocence they illuminated. The seemingly unperturbed partner traded his eyes to the dancing humanity pulling a-not-so-bothered demeanor.

I’m not sure how I would seat up with my girlfriend for five hours and all she did would be sucking a shisha pipe holding it more tightly than she held me. How? A night full of white smoke, smokier kisses and a look at our very foggy future together. My mind would create imaginations of me stumbling her in the house still holding a shisha pipe, holed somewhere in the table room, forgetting that she left something cooking in the kitchen. I’d think of how she would raise our kids including how worse off they could turn out. I’d worry of the numerous times we would visit the doc for her chest problems and heavy, dark coughs that in essence would put to bare her dark life as well. I would think of mum and how her reaction would be upon realising I date such a chic….what would be left of me is probably die and fail to resurrect. Avoiding dealing with the reality of betraying her time, investments, emotions, prayers and expectations.

I have serious beef with contemporary parenting. This coolness you brag to your peers about your kids, is sucking me up. It’s filling my heart with choking anger. I’m infuriated by this sheer wastage of a generation. Dear newfangled parents who care less about where your high school sons and daughters spend their nights; you will have a very miserable posterity. The kind of laziness you are depicting in raising those kids will come down tumbling on your balding heads rather hard. The demigods you are nurturing will in the end, feed every investment you own and finally feed on you too. We will bury you of ulcers and all other stress related illnesses.

You parents that are easily carried away by Nairobi Diaries never missing an episode while your daughter is out there dressed in under wears, in the evil hours of the night, seated in dark corners of entertainment joints religiously holding shisha pipes for hours, engulfed by men who have rendered millions of women to be single mothers, your space in hell is set and waiting for you. You absentee dads that spend nights in pubs with somebody’s teenage daughters ruining their lives with pots of shisha, cheap money and loaned cars while in the process taking away their innocence; you have a mandate to reconcile with your sins here on earth or in the afterlife.

Parents must rise to the occasion and realise one never stops raising his/her kids. Ask Tonny Kibaki if his mum ever stopped raising him even after he was all grown, married and a daddy. Learn lessons of how Lucy Kibaki (RIP) raised her kids. And for your information, according to Lancet Commission on Adolescent Health which released its report last Tuesday(10/05/2016), it pointed that the fastest growing risk factor for ill health in young people aged between 10 and 24 years in the past 23 years has been unsafe sex. Now, isn’t these high school kids bragging of shisha escapades that pose to be victims of this statistics?

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