God created the universe and all was well with it. Then he created man and man simply found a way to fucked everything up. I know you know how the story goes. That’s not the point. The point is, man found a way to use God for everything; the good, the bad and everything in-between. You want to go to heaven? Why not use the Almighty as a safe pass. Want to get a wife? Use God to get one. We pray for one that is still a virgin but keeping our things to ourselves until marriage is where we draw the line. Such irony. Want to lead a people? Do I have to name our politicians who become saved and church going members only when it’s convenient for them? Do I? It’s a waste of time, you already know them. God is no longer a need for man. He is just a convenience. We use Him when we want something and in turn we forget Him when we get it. I dare say we use Him as a means to an end and as the saying goes, the end justifies the means.

Or does it?

My uncle woke me up at dawn. He wanted to go out to engage in an endless battle with the birds that feasted upon his precious rice when no one was looking. It’s a thing in Kirinyaga county. The battle between man and beasts, in this case birds, is a never ending struggle. He wanted me to sponsor his addiction for smoke. I obliged. You don’t say no to the man housing you when you have come to clear your work station. I had gotten a notification that my services were no longer required. I was heartbroken at the time but that was several weeks ago. Simply said, I had moved on. It had been surprisingly easier than what I had envisioned. In my mind, I had thought I’d throw a tantrum and beg for my job back. I was wrong. In retrospect, I’m proud of myself.

So I get up, squat outside by the door and do the transaction. Heck, I’m on my last few thousands but that doesn’t matter. Nobody needs to know that. After I see him off following his movements by my eyes, I go back to sleep because there is nothing better to do at the crack of dawn other than crack but we are not yet to that part of our lives. When I wake up some three hours later, the sun is radiating some nice warmth on the earth and I soak it in. This was the day I said goodbye to Mwea. Being in no hurry, I decide to walk to my work place. A good one and a half hours on foot at a moderate speed. That was more than enough time to listen to my playlist doing a dab here and a step there. It was also enough time for me to think clearly about the next phase of my life, whatever that would turn out to be.

The route by day is therapeutic. You have rice fields on both sides. The wind wafting in my direction the scent of pure pishori rice. The sun showing no mercy to my already black self. Mount Kenya to my…. I have no idea which direction it is from that route but it’s there alright. It is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. So close and yet so far away. So humble and yet so majestic. It’s a beauty to behold. I think I know why the Kikuyu say it is the seat of Mwene Nyaga. Whether they mean it literally or figuratively is a matter of discussion but not for today. I pass people by who look at me with curiosity as I rap to J.cole’s jams. I don’t have time for them. I’m fixed on something else. The beauty of the community. A whole gang of people are working in various fields preparing the land for the planting season. It makes me happy knowing that the communal aspect of our society still exists in modern times regardless if they are being paid or not. There was beauty in seeing people working in unison and humming to to the songs of ages.

As I continue on my way, a certain thought that had plagued me for the last seven months crossed my mind again. Since I set out in the morning, dozens of motorbikes had passed me on their way to wherever. Some carrying as much as four individuals but others with only one. Transversing this route had taught me a bitter truth about life. Nobody cares about you even if you are going in the same direction. They’ll see your back, pass you and in turn you’ll see their back. It’s just how people out there are wired. Why should they help you? You are not familia. That is if they even help their family members. We’ve all heard the stories of rich family members who do nothing to soften the plight of their extended family. Let’s not get into that here.

This route has also taught me something else. Taking a leak in the open space is pure bliss. I looked around to see if the coast was clear. It was, apart from a car approaching from behind and a lone motorcycle approaching from my front at a cruise mode. I whip out my gadget and do the necessary. The sheer feeling makes me close my eyes in a moment of pure ecstasy. I wonder if something I had read about experiencing the divine through physical union had any truth to it. Could seeing His face really be that simple yet hard? Is it then surprising that we feel conflicted about sex? Heiros Gamos they called it. I shrug it of in a matter of you’ll probably never find out. I open my eyes when the sound of the cycle engine is close. The guy is looking at the one thing he should not be looking at. Like what happened to common sense. I turn only just slightly to give him a good view of the monkey king. The look on his face was reward enough. Turns out common sense is not so common after all. After concluding my business I set off on my way and just in time as the car pulled up Infront of me.

The good man gave me a lift to town. You never say no to an offer like that. For the road ahead was long and treacherous. Plus my legs could use the rest, for the return journey. We get talking and I immediately have a liking for him. Well not him him but rather his philosophy. Guided by the tenda wema nenda zako mantra, he offers this dire need of humanity lending a hand to itself. Other than being alone in the car why not have somebody to talk to? At least that way if the car gets stuck in the mud then it becomes your problem too. As we are talking, we agree on one thing. God, fate and/or destiny is in control. That you can’t go against what is written on the stars. That when you are born, a path is already set up for you. Kind of like Oedipus the King. Imagine killing your father and wedding your mother. And begetting children. I know. Disgusting. He then purges himself by blinding himself. To shield himself of the evil of the earth I’d imagine. I’d say that author had issues that needed therapy. Greek literature is pretty cool to some extent. Okay I’m lying, I’m a sucker for the tragedy.

I am dropped off and go on with my business of the day. Fifa comes next. I love the feeling of winning a hard fought battle. I get late indulging in my secret pleasure. By the time I’m en route the motorbikes either charge way to much or are not going that direction. So I have to foot my way home. And I do. As I’m on the way I remember what waits me at the end. A home. La familia. When I came to the place all those months ago I immediately felt at home. After dealing with adulting the whole day, I would get home and find hot bathing water waiting for me. I loved that bit because the bathroom was an open air space which meant no roofing. You could wash your ass while looking up at the stars, and I did just that. A hot meal and a cup of steaming tea would set the stage for a deep slumber afterwards. African hospitality is top tier hands down. But then again the hot water stopped appearing magically and I had to boil it for myself. They say you live and you learn. And I learnt that you don’t put too much firewood at the same time lest you vaporize your scrotum. A three stoned jiko will teach you humility, patience and perseverance and above all, the art of breathing in smoke without choking.

I take out my phone and put in on airplane mode then place it in a secret compartment in the bag I’m carrying. It was a survival strategy I had adopted. I didn’t want to get a phone call for the next half hour or so, for my safety. The night was as dark as the devil himself. The route 17 had it’s fair share of ghost stories. Heads flying off bodies, gang activities, raping to mention but a few. For a nice looking community there sure were a lot of skeletons in the closet. I say a silent prayer and continue on my way looking over my shoulder occasionally. I like having situational awareness but that also speaks volumes on my faith. Why say a prayer for your safety and still be skeptical about it? Ironical. All this time I’m hoping that a motorcycle will pass me by so that I can get a lift. The route had taught me to ask for help when I was in need. Not everyone would stop to give you a ride but you’d never know until you tried. None came. Lucky for me, nothing happened for the entire journey. It seemed my guardian angel was working overtime, again.

As I was to leave early in the morning headed for the capital, I woke up early to do the packing. By 6:30 AM I’m at the end of the village and the beginning of route 17. I look at the seemingly endless road without seeing it’s end and sigh. I’m like a secret lover who is seeing their mistress for the last time. She had been good to me and I had nothing but gratitude for her. My uncle lights up a cigarette . As if by cue, I remember that the mountain is behind me and I turn to look. She was hidden by the clouds. Hardly the goodbye I had pictured. I made a mental note to climb and conquer her. The quest was on. I will make her my bitch. Uhm okay, that’s highly graphic.

“You know those things kill you, right?”

“Doesn’t everything kill you?”

He had a point. I wondered how high one would get if you smoked at the highest peak. Was the air even breathable at that altitude? Well, there is one way to find out. The car came into view just in time as he discarded the butt end of the cigarettes, like it was all scripted. Having said my goodbyes I hoped in and we were off to the big bad jungle.

In a bid to make Small talk with the driver, I learnt how the world works. Apparently everytime you are out and about going places, there is a small chance you will get into an accident. Guess the number? Yes a whole 17 percent. Fifty percent is subdivided between the driver and the car equally. Thirty three percent of the remaining half is other factors like say… The price of fuel and car maintenance and all that. Then the peculiar 17 percent is basically unknown. Anything could happen. You could be rushing home after having cum from your mistress and Viola, she sends you some other pics that you have to delete before you get home to your wife. One look and blood rushes to the wrong head. Next thing you know you are headed straight for a tree. Of all ways to get into an accident and una pigwa mti.

I looked out of the window past the trees to the rising sun. I was in awe of the beauty spread. The splash of orange and red across the sky is bewitching. It was going to be a beautiful day full of promise. What did the urban jungle have in store for me? Greatness? Wealth? A story for the ages? Mwea had been great but that door was closed now. I hoped I had not spent too much time staring at it and not notice the others opening. Whatever it was that was waiting for me out in the great unknown, I was ready for it. I think.

This is where I spent many a night fighting mosquitoes for my blood. Greatness from small beginnings. That’s you and I. That is us.


“Oh and don’t become a stranger alright?” That was my favorite person some years back. Girl was as fine as they come. She got my affection and attention, a rather rare combination. She also ticked at a couple of boxes on my fantasy checklist. Don’t ask me what that list entails, you will never look at me the same way. Yikes! We haven’t talked in ages though. Actually, the last time we talked she told me she would invite me to her wedding. I’ve been waiting for that invite to come thru. It would be something of an emotional rollercoaster seeing my first love and the one who popped my cherry say I do to another man. Like do you laugh or cry with joy. Or worse, do you get a hard on because you remember her clearly saying she rather have a threesome with two guys; dream come true? However, the possibility of that happening would be equivalent to Kenya ending corruption. Next to zero. Why would I want somebody’s agenda hanging over my face swinging left and right to the beat? That’s crazy. Anyway is it just me or do engage in sex like way too early in life. I think, and you should support me on this, that people should wait until they are forty. Life begins at forty right?

I’m sure there was something philosophical I was to begin with but I’m currently working with three brain cells so yeah, goldfish memory. I forgot. Which is kinda the point for this blog. Things and more often than not, people you forget along this journey we call life. You are born and then you die. That’s just how it is. But in between those two important moments, you live. And you love, you hate, you make people want to kill you, you make people want to save you and you grow. You grow so much that a person that knew you ten years ago will only say, “I used to know him.” You meet a lot of people in your every day endeavors that make you the person you are. Whether good or bad that’s up to you. But you gotta wonder sometimes… What will they say about you when you are gone?

Again there are these instances where you meet a person and you want to remember their name but however hard you try, you just can’t. It’s even worse when they shout out your name like you are a long lost friend. I hate those scenarios; but last Sunday I got myself in such an episode. I had gone to church in search of a friend. I know you are wondering to yourself, ‘what! You go to church to look for a girl?’ It’s better to be honest about things you know. It’s good for your soul. And besides, men have done worse than that, like wearing socks on crocs- that’s basically sitting on the fence. Pick a side and choose your struggles. Anyway I walk in and immediately aim for the seats at the back. I scan the congregation and find out that my person of interest was not present. I frowned. She gave the tightest of hugs. And there is something about tight hugs that makes you want more of life. I know you know what I’m talking about. I tried listening to the young pastor preach but alas! He lost me at young and I started looking around trying to find my bearings. As I turned my head I noticed a girl with an appeal. The kind that invites you to say hi and let the handshake linger for a second longer. Speaking of which, do you hug people when you meet then for the first time? Is that socially acceptable? Is everyone really okay with that? I know it’s always awkward when I try and fist bump someone in greeting only for them to spread an open palm for a handshake. Like you have to switch it up and tend to look dumb because let’s be honest, there is no cool way of getting out of that situation. And so I made a mental note to approach her as soon as service was over for a-second-too- long handshake.

The thing was, I knew that face. But for the life in me I could not remember from where. That was the worst kind of torment. Kinda like that story about a man that was condemned for eternity for coveting other people’s properties. His punishment was having a desire just outside his reach. Imagine you wanting to pluck an apple or mango from the tree on a hot afternoon only for your efforts to bear no fruits. Like a wildly attractive woman dancing seductively in silhouette for your pleasure, her hair blowing in the wind, her whisper making the hair on your neck stand up on its end and her clothes tightly hugging her shape from the beating rain making your groin ache with longing and your heart pump faster. But, as soon as you try and reach out you realize that she is just out of your reach. Now fast forward for eternity. Makes you want to live a righteous life right? Or not.

And so when the final prayer was said, I kept an eye out for that particular female. I tracked her to their car -i’m a pretty good detective if I do say so myself. I caught her eye and waved for her to come. And finally she spoke and her voice was the trigger that sent me down a rabbit hole. And trust me, you don’t want to go down any rabbit hole. She was a famed beauty back in the day – still was a beauty. The kind everyone wants to associate with because of the status quo. Who is to say that I hadn’t fallen into that trap as well. Infact I was jealous of a guy who was shooting his shot on a train bound for Mombasa all those years ago- but that’s a story for another day. Yes, I can be petty when I want to. And yes, the coast is nice but only if you are willing to spend that money like it’s nothing. After all, you only live once right?

I wanted to tell her of my jealousy towards the guy on the train but decided against it. For starters, that was a bad look and second of all, it didn’t matter. She didn’t even remember me so there was no need for all that. Just another face in the passing wind. I had to accept how fate had dealt those cards. But there is no denying, we all know how it feels like. Let me put it in context. There was this time I was walking in Embu town with a dear friend of mine and I spotted a girl I had known for a better part of my life. We were basically neighbors but for some strange reason we never talked to each other even while we were home. Throwing caution to the wind, I gathered courage and called out her name. It was as if she had seen a ghost. She turned her head only slightly as if to see who was calling and her pace increased thereafter. The message was clear. We don’t talk at home so why would we talk in a foreign land? My ego was bruised that day. I stood in the street watching her go and I thought to myself, “would this -whatever this was- get any easier?

Apparently not. We are but familiar strangers. Set to roam the earth knowing the other is there but not giving a damn. It’s life’s own cruel joke on mankind. My prayer; family doesn’t become estranged and friends don’t become another face in the crowd. Although having said that, it seems highly impossible. The wheels of time are constantly in motion, who is to know what will happen in the next second. Time will tell.

And I feel like it’s time to get back to the coast line. Will I have sex on the beach? Anyone? Only one way to find out.

Happy Easter… Wherever you are on God’s green earth.


There was a time I was a child, as was everyone else. I was young and dumb and did what kids do best, play all day long and go home after dusk only to meet dear momma at the house chilling, waiting for me. Only that she wasn’t too happy to see me and I knew what awaited me, a proper ass whopping. Sigh, those were the days. I love you mama. As much as I loved playing with the mud, I also loved toys. The problem was that I didn’t have the ones I wanted. And I wanted a bicycle really bad. The dirty bloody claws of capitalism showed themselves in my pursuit for happiness. The kid, owner of a bicycle and shorter than most of us; with a shortness of breath caused by weight more than an underlying condition, had the audacity and actual right to charge me for the rides. And so I dished out my hard earned money mostly from conducting a heist on my piggy bank and paid the greasy palms that were taking all for a few minutes of ecstasy. You could only go so far before the kid started to shout himself hoarse. Poor guy. But saying that is rather ironical since he was milking me off my worth, poor me.

We all still want to run free and wild without a care in the world as a child would- take me back to those days please. I wanna go home having bruised my knee from falling off a tree. Take me back to the days when I was tucked into bed after washing my hands and feet. Lord knows a full body bath was only done on Sundays. That was the ritual. A full body bath on Sunday mornings. What I’m sure about is I tried to look cool Infront of this girl I liked in Sunday school. My first crush. I mean if you are clean then why not. As an adult now I’m into another pleasure, bikes. The problem is that I can’t have one, at least not yet. Also you should know that I can’t ride a motorcycle… Yeah.

That is why I felt some type of way the other day when I saw a motorcycle approach me from a distance. I was taking a walk along the vast fields of rice paddies airing my family jewels after being cooped up at work all week. Now I’m not a male chauvinist but my ego was bruised that day. A fine baby girl was riding the machinery- for lack of a better expression. I had to reclaim what had been lost; Our freaking pride of handling anything manly. Yes I said it. And so I went to my uncle and told him I wished to learn how to handle a motorcycle. He laughed his heart out and told me to fuel the damn thing as he owned one. That was my fee. He took me for a ride to the market, bought a couple of cigarettes – the type that kill you, and took us back. He got off and explained to me how everything works. He made sure I got the basics and famously said, “haiya, thii ukuire nakûû!” (Go kill yourself!) I chuckled. This man was literally telling me to go and “bump” into a stationary object like a tree so that he could come and eat rice at my burial, LMAO. I took the damn thing for a ride around the village. It’s was a fun experience.

I came to a junction and halted. I had two options- a left or a right. Why were those my only two options again? I felt like Jonny Depping that moment and riding straight on across the rice paddies. ( This is a reference to the movie the professor). But I didn’t have a death wish so I turned left. Societal norms are such a bore sometimes.

I’m about to hit the next gear when a kiddo held out his hand. The universally accepted sign to stop. He initiates small talk and at the end of it I let him hop onto my ride. I kick off at a rather high speed for an amateur whose only source of inspiration are fast and furious movies and simulation from video games. I’m getting the hang of things to say the least. The breeze is hitting me in all the right places as I had a pair of shorts on. Then all of a sudden the kiddo tells me to let him ride the machine. Having a good heart and a gullible mind full of fantasies is a bad combination for real. We switch positions and I am surprised at the ease with which he handles the damn thing.

Apparently, as I later came to learn, majority of kids in primary school can handle a motorcycle. The only general rule is that their toes most touch the ground however slightly while seated on the damn thing. The results: a whole generation of youngsters basically giving natural selection the middle finger. This kid was riding the machine with his feet high up in the air. First of all, that is actually very hard to accomplish with my stiff body. So yes, I’m jealous I cannot do that simple trick. Second of all, that’s a dangerous thing to do and stupid. All this time I’m thinking that if we have the slip and fall… Nita ambia nini watu!!!??

Of course he gave me the look. I was basically taking the meat out of his mouth. But being the bigger man and seeing at consequences of my actions gave me the privilege to take his pleasure. It was deja Vu all over again. It felt nice being the kid with the fat hands. I took the wheel-for lack of a better term- and sped of with my new found courage. I had to show the little man how it was done. Simply said, I was flexing on the nigga.

A few weeks later, I’m in a pub with my uncle buying us cheap alcohol. The man had an uncanny way of knowing when I had money. He had called me to supposedly take the motorcycle home but now we were comfortably seated watching a game and sipping on the dark ‘juice’. After the forth cup I decided to put a cap on the spending and we headed home. The man had surprisingly stable hands while navigating the machine but that came as no surprise because according to him, this was not his first rodeo. We got home and it was decided that I had to go back to the shopping center to buy a few items. By now the alcohol was getting to my head but I had nothing to worry about. I would emulate the old man and have stable hands. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

I sped along the streets, did my bidding and was soon on my way back. It was then that I decided to take the long way home. The wind was a most welcomed company to my almost drunk self. So I navigated to another street to ensure that that I would take another five or so minutes back home. I got to a valley and did what I consider a very useful skill. I held in the clutch and let go of the gas minimizing output and still moving downhill. I know, my genius baffles me. I let go of the clutch and the machine coughed back to life just in time to climb the not very steep hill. I changed gears and was done with that obstacle in a matter of seconds. I changed gears again and picked up speed away on the home stretch. I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down. Or so I thought. I only momentarily closed my eyes as if dreaming about how great I was when it happened. I felt the front wheel bump into an obstacle and given the speed and the closing of my eyes, an accident was in the offing. I fought to stabilize the machine but I was not up to the task. It skidded left and right before finally coming down hard on the road. I was sent flying and my head hit a few stones before coming to a stop. I lay there cursing because this was one scenario I had not seen coming.

I got up and inspected the damage; the dashboard was wrecked and so was the headlight, the front mud guard was broken, the rear tire had lost some few bearings, the gas tank was dented and I probably had a concussion. I grunted as I picked up the scattered goods. I was drunk and in pain and I would have to push the motorcycle all the way back home. Let’s just say it takes a lot for a drunk idiot not to stagger and end up in a ditch. And on top of that I had to part with a cool three thousand shillings just to cover the damages I caused.

So what’s the take from all this? Don’t drink and drive and if you do make sure you have enough money for medical bills. Also black don’t crack, that’s why I haven’t gone for a check up since my so called ‘concussion’ accident. In any case, I can’t wait to own a sports bike and have a girl with a phat ass showcasing her goods as I speed along some highway. Godspeed y’all.


If ever I am to have a threesome, not that I see myself having one anyway, I want it to be with Rihanna; me herself and all the time I can afford. Although that being said, I don’t think I can afford that much time. That is if you are equating time with money, and I have no money whatsoever. Also I want to put it out there that I’m going to last a record eight seconds. Because that is as long as a man should last. I think. But as a friend of mine once wrote,” I have a dream, probably the same as Luther and Mandela’s, that a man shall set forth with his penis and plough any female he deems worth.” No offense. Yes, even if that female is an ambassador, world renowned singer, a billionaire and the love of my life. Now you are probably Wondering how such a feat would be possible. I mean I am from a third world country and she…. She is still the love of my dreams damnit. A man ought to dream, right? My dreams are valid, right?

In any case, I had my heart broken. I call this the dark ages because of one thing and one thing only. A few months ago my phone suffered from some technical issues and I was cast into the dark abyss of oblivion, like so many of us. No? Then it was just me gliding solo. Anyway it was at that time I realized one truth of life. I’m a man. Nobody gives a hoot about whatever your endeavors are. Doesn’t matter if you are sleeping hungry or masterbating two dozen times a day. Nobody gives a damn. The sooner you accept that the sooner you are on your way to happiness. And talking about happiness, when was the last time you were truly happy? Then again, how do you equate happiness? Is it getting Chocolate from that lover of yours? I’d say that’s a waste of money. I don’t have much so yes, I’d know . In any case this very red day is a fallacy since we are supposed to celebrate a Saint. Don’t you worry, I just came to the same realization. But nooo, nothing should come between you and your chocolate. Just make sure it fills you up real good, if you know what I mean. I just wonder what the guy who coined the term ‘ tall dark and hand-some had in mind. Hah!

So I get back online and I am faced with the hardest reality ever. The most beautiful woman in the whole wide world was expectant. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t stand a chance with her anyway. I’m happy that she is moving up the ladder of life. I’m sure it’s different for that guy with the owl. He had a shot, not sure he took it. So after a bit of depression having lost my love to someone I don’t know who, I decided to let go. If I could I would go to the baby shower and the birthdays that are to come. Damnit, if anything I want to be the Godfather of that baby, or maybe I want a baby of my own. In any case, it’s going to be a pleasure to watch the couple fall in love and hopefully they stick together. So Rihanna baby, this is me letting go of my love for you. Don’t get me wrong, I still love you. It’s just that I don’t want to caught in a slippery slope with that other guy.

So then.. now that it’s past valentine’s day, I need to find a new love. Possibly the love of my life. Question is, who is going to fall my antics? Damnit Rihanna, you set the bar high, it’s going to be hard to replace you. I doubt even if it’s going to be done. You be on a pedestal girl. But all in all, how about that Ménage à trois sometime soon yes?


If you are into bird watching then you really ought to consider coming out to mwea, the largest rice basket in the country. (I just had to add that last bit.) The place is laden with quite the number of species of birds. Ask a stranger like me and I say that that’s amazing. Ask a local resident and they wish that there existed a weapon of mass destruction to exterminate the birds. Something or someone like Abird Hitler. Why you may ask? Because they are a bloody nuisance. I hear blasts of horns early in the morning, like way to early to get up. And when I get out of the lowly built mud house, stretching and yawning with a manhood harder than diamonds, I’d gaze into the distance and take in the scenery. Acres upon acres of the green carpet that are the rice paddies stretching as far as the eye could see, with the wind wafting in my direction the aroma of pure pishori rice. And along the green carpet were some human figures probably throwing fits over the innocent creatures. Being the largest basket means that God’s creatures have a field day fending for themselves at the expense of the farmer. And if I’m being honest, there is some comfort in knowing that the Almighty has a plan for us all. Truly, I mean think about it. There is a grand design where we all fit. The birds are fed even without asking so what about you? Yes, even if you have a bird brain you still fit somewhere in the universe.

In any case I did not build the mud house I just mentioned above. I am currently inhabiting my cousins Simba (if I may call it that) for a period of time. Until I am done with my attachment. You know, that time when you work your ass off for virtually no pay but you have to do it anyway in order to graduate. And I love the experience, I love the learning curve. My knowledge on all things rice has increased threefold at the very least. But that’s not all. I have this urge that I have to get better and stronger ( not physically) if I want to be the best version of myself. If I want to make my parents and consequently myself proud I need to get out of my comfort zone. Although if you ask me,living in a mud house with a zillion mosquitoes buzzing around your mosquito net is not a comfort zone, it’s more or less a survival of the fittest kinda situation.

This realization couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time. I have been doing a lot of reflection of the life I’ve lived the last two decades or so. If you’ve been following the blog you probably know I have a cousin who has a 43 inch TV in his wardrobe and a car. As if to add salt to injury he is only five months older than I am. So what is it that I am doing or not doing that is most definitely wasting my time on God’s green earth? Probably farting in my hand and smelling my shit. But on the real, I have no clue. I think that me realizing that I need help is the first step in my journey back home, the long ass road home.

The realization of all this manifested when the last born daughter of the homestead, my cousin, came thru for a family event to be held during the weekend. I could tell from my uncle and aunt’s faces that she was very highly regarded. I hadn’t met her before. I thought it was because she was the last born. I mean last borns are perpetually babied. You’d have thought the same thing too. But I quickly flashed the thought out of my mind when I learnt that she brought so much more to the table, literally. She had an online gig going on for her, to the extent of paying for her accommodation in the varsity, something that I had thought of but had no plan on how to fulfill. On top of which she even sends money back home to help her parents, something that I have done zero times and as if that’s not enough, I am the first born of my parents. Very detrimental to my brand. Cherry on top- she is three years younger than yours truly. I am the complete and utter opposite of this female of a cousin. It seems that my extended family is packed with secrets of success in life that they’d rather keep to themselves.

That was a real life lesson on character development. ‘ Money talks’ being the underlying factor. I mean we all know it to be true but it hits you different when the difference is clearly visible. When you have had a dozen opportunities to grow yourself but you end up wasting them all, when the ancestors look up to you as their hope of the bloodline but you mess everything up by jerking of in the dark so you don’t get caught instead of hiding your family jewels in her great beyond, when you have no plans for the future other than what you will eat in the next hour then you know it is time. Time to look to the mountain, take in the scenery, take in a deep breath and blow the damned horn- a declaration of war to anything and anyone holding you back from your success. But first I suggest you take a long ass dump and quite possibly clap in some fart in your hand so that you can smell the shit that you will be coming from. And I pray you smell it so that you may not procrastinate and go back. It’s gonna be a long ass journey back home.


Let me start by saying that none of y’all have such a cool ass birthday as I do. Well maybe you celebrate it a more glamorous manner because of financial differences and all but still, I maintain that none of you have such a cool ass birthday date as I do. I keep saying that because I’m going to take you on a trip down memory lane. Ready? Think back nine months before you were born. Think on the date of your conception. When was it? Probably don’t think about it too much. Atleast not every gruelling detail. It might be a dangerous rabbit hole you’d be getting yourself into. I am a child of love. That my being a certified lover boy has a proper foundation even in the calendar. (Who certified me?) Like too proper a foundation that it leaves me appreciating the headless saint valentine even more. Guess that’s the universe letting me know I need some head. Or better yet, some sex on my D-Day. See what I did there?

Everyone loves sex right? Well maybe not everyone. I know of two ladies who claim that they are virgins. How true those claims are is upto you to decide. I believe them. I have to, they are up there in the priority list you know. And besides their actions prove that they may be telling the truth. Well atleast thats what I believe. One actually showcased a desire to have a baby or two with yours truly. But I ain’t tripping, I am the price at the end of the day. But still the deal sounds too good to be true. I don’t trust people nowadays. Especially this other love to hate gender. I mean, when did y’all say anything true? Apart from the fact that you all claim to run the world, which I think is true.

A few years ago, I met a girl at the top floor of a building. I have the audacity to say that she was the height of beauty, pun intended. She was also a tiny winy bit taller that I was so there was also that. We had just joined campus so we were eager to know each other. One thing led to another and we spent the whole evening talking about random stuff. We had the time and the content, nowadays I have neither. I got her to like me and I could tell that I liked her back. On my way back to the hostel I told my pal whom I thought uptown than the rest that I had found the one. He was happy for me and made me promise to show him the girl that had made me all giggly and shit.

And I did. I showed the nigga the girl of my world. They got acquainted and all was well. Or was it? There is a twist just be patient enough to witness it. Now I have come to the realization that I am an asshole. I kid you not. You see I am hopeless when it comes with this other gender, but not totally. That’s basically the truth of the matter. I have the game without the field if that makes any sense. Don’t get me wrong, I can fuck if and when I get the opportunity to. It’s the opportunities I’m lamenting about. That’s why I appreciate the olden days, things used to be simpler or so I’m told. This generation of ours is all about how long you can last and how many inches you have with you. Like girl, I only got three inches and that’s plus the balls and I can go for only but eight seconds. I think I need to unplug and become a monk or something. Anyway, as I was saying before I got all emotional and shit, there is a twist. A few weeks later as I was coming from a lecture when I went to the hostel room. The sight I got there was enough to get me into depression. There was the girl of my world on my bed with the other nigga. She turned out to be the girl of his dreams and they went on to live happily ever after. Only it wasn’t forever and it didn’t end happily. Apparently it was too tall an order for him to keep. And then at the beginning of my last semester, I bumped into her. The universe right?

One day as I’m walking up the street someone calls out to me. Only few people call me in such a sensual manner I have to admit. Even before I look back I can’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. She walks to me in slow motion as if to burn that reel in my mind and save it for my old age replays when I’ll be pissing my pants. We get on talking and somewhere along the line I feel the warmth of a fire I had thought dimmed. Could it be? That my dragon of the south was awaken by this maiden in distress? It didn’t help that she let me know, clearly, that she was single now. I’m sorry to hear that, I said, but deep down I knew for a fact that my time had come. Over the next few days, we were inseparable. She took me to lectures and I in turn kept her company whenever she was bored, a fair exchange I presumed. And then it happened. She basically said I could come to her place whenever I felt like it, even when she was not in. You know what that means right?

So over a boring Saturday I made the house call. She was elated to see me. Now I timed my visit somewhere along the lunch hour. A comrade was broke to say the least. And need I say that she was well off. Like living on the top floor of a flat with a watchman for security purposes. As I said, the height of beauty. If you are not from the country then you don’t know how top tier that kind of living is, well atleast for us. She let me into her kitchen and I made us a fine meal. If you must know then yes, I am a damn good cook. Unless everyone who’s tasted my cooking has been lying to me thru their teeth. After the meal we chill watching some TikTok videos trying to bid time for the food to digest before we digest.. you know what I mean. As the day went agonizingly slow for me, she came up with an idea. She wanted to practice her moves on me. And I was at that point where I’d say something stupid like, “dddddzzzzzzzzzaaaaaaaammmmmmmmnnnnnnn girl! I’ll be your human size dildo if you want me to.”

So we draw the curtains since we didn’t want to give the peasants living down on earth a show. Well not just any show but the show of a lifetime. She pulls up the chair and makes me sit on it. She puts on one of those slow sensual songs and I knew for a fact that I’d remember that song for the rest of my life. I don’t remember that song now. There was a shift in the shadows and a change in the air. It was as if you could already sniff the after sex smell. I was sure I was gonna pump and hump and blow away at her inner being. She walked slowly towards me and did the whip with the hair while turning so that I was looking at her back. She then backed up slowly taking each knee by her hands and spreading them widely. My dragon was exposed, but that was good, there was a fire in it’s belly that needed to be quenched. She slowly whined to the song doing things I’d rather not say. By now I’m was like a puppy awaiting its master’s orders. She takes me up by the chin using a single finger, it was like a well oiled machine. She pushes me to the wall and my fears are confirmed. I was dealing with a freak! Well, good for me.

I was about to become the conqueror of flesh, the empores of the waters. She presses her bums on my now fully awakened dragon. This was it, I was to become the knight of penisville, the Duke of penetration, the mercenary of clitoris and the storm bringer of cloud nine all wrapped in one single defining moment. A mere mortal in the sands of time wanting his name to be remembered. I’d shout and groan till the heavens knew of my name. She whips her hair and made sure I got some in my mouth. More slow grinding and she turns and presses her bosoms hard on my chest. I ain’t even gonna lie, she was packing on that department. She looks me deep in the eyes and there is a lot said without a single word uttered. I lean in for a kiss and she quickly puts her finger on my lips preventing me from achieving my objective. She then scouts with her hands and starts exploring all over the place, expect where it truly mattered. She stoops down doing that Spanish movement of the hip side to side all in slow motion and never missing a beat. This was it! All my mind could think of was the different techniques I was going to use on her. She was still down there doing whatever and I was trying to look cool being pinned to the wall with an erection, do you know how hard that is? She saw and felt the dragon, looked up and I saw a gleam in her eyes. I smiled secretly muttering to myself, “yeah baby, you’ve seen it huh? That’s a whole three inches, why would you want nine?”

As if reading my mind she gets up, all this time pressing her bosoms on me. This was it. I was about to “enter the dragon” (hey you remember that movie by Lee?) Anyway she gets up and as she is taller than I was I end up looking up at her. I am ready to sweep her off her feet and carry her throughout the house probably feeling her insides on every single inch of the house, and it was a sizable house with every inch of my being. The Temperature was high, I was already sweating in anticipation of what might be and I was hard, like extra hard with veins and shit. Not a bad combo at all, well, depending on who is on the receiving end that is. She looks at me and I instantly know why curiosity killed the cat, forgive the pun. I wanted it to end but before I could even start I had a lump in my throat that I think came from all that foreplay. I had to swallow it before anything else. And swallow I did, only a bit too hard. It was as if the whole room echoed from my swallowing the lump. There is no cool way of doing it. The girl heard the noise and she was amused. She laughed her ass off giving me the ‘ did you just do that’ kinda vibe. I told her I had to. I wasn’t gonna kiss her with a lump at the back of my throat. She smiled and then told me, ” baby boy, I’m sorry if I misled you but we ain’t fucking.” I’m curious to know why and she goes on to tell me how she wants me to remain as friend and how she is wary of me hitting it since it would then lead to a slippery slope. A few more explanations and I’ve had it. And then I think to myself, was I really going to hit on my friends ex-mamaa just like that? It was and still is a moral dilemma. Would you?

As I close the door behind me I think of how hard it would be living that down. I look down at my dragon and I tell myself, quite literally. I chuckle as I head to my bachelor pad with no warmth let alone that of a woman. I couldn’t even light up the stove to warm myself up. Again, being a man is quite literally hard. But life is a bitch so we finna ride her knee deep till kingdom come. As it is obvious, I want me some birthday sex, or any other sex to boot. But if you can’t offer me that then vests, socks and underwear are okay. The good Lord knows I’m in dire need of those items.

In any case, happy birthday to self. I have many wishes but you already know what I want.

Finally…I know you want one too😂😂


School right? A little while back -(well it’s way back now. I’m editing after a whole month plus of my phone having gone on vacation. I know, it’s weird, technology right!? If you are confused don’t worry, I also don’t know what I’m saying. )- I went to read up some material for my course work before I could go and do some illegal stuff. Don’t live a dangerous life boys and girls. As I was walking along the corridor I met up with two of my friends and I could tell that something was off. Their faces told me so and besides, I overheard something that triggered me to sit down and listen. They told me one of the funniest and saddest thing I could possibly have heard from them. By the way, Do you know how hard that is? To make someone happy and sad at the same time? They were lamenting about the results of a certain unit that had been updated in the students portal. Apparently the lecturer had been so… I forgot the word, as to hand out D’s to them. And so I was like wait a second. ” So, You are in your final semester and you are complaining about a fucking D? Are you for real right now?,” I ask. They explain or try to explain how it taints their transcripts blah blah blah. Like a bad aura on their pretty little perfect scores. I tell them to shut up and whipped out my phone and logged in to my portal to show them how many D’s I have. Apparently one too many, good thing my benefactor has never seen them. But they didn’t really buy my efforts so I dialedup a buddy of mine and put him on speaker. Now this guy is on a whole different level than anyone I ever met. Now I might seem like I’m dishing you out Dollar,(*sigh* this is gonna be weird for me) but nothing like a bromance right? Shout out to you my G. Shit, I just put you on record and this is gonna live forever. I guess you gotta wanna keep that tattoo under wraps now. Ha! I told him what was up and he just laughed. The man probably burst a nut or something. Like fam, you just have one D in a multitude of A’s, nobody is going to complain to you about that. You see I knew what type of students they were. They were the kind who went into an exam room singing hallelujah. Why? Because they worked their assess off all semester for that particular moment, that’s why. Honestly if they got first class honors I wouldn’t be surprised. (so the graduation list or rather the first draft is out and guess what? The two friends who were complaining have been awarded first class honors. Congratulations to them. I just wanted to let you know that as a BTW because it’s not going to change the original script.) I got like two semesters worth of bad grades but you don’t hear me saying shit about it now do you? Man on the cell got like two A’s in his entire transcripts, for a practical and because of his communication skills. The tongue am I right? Nothing but Cunt’s and Dick’s to show just how many Fuck’s he didn’t give! (Facts). Okay this is getting way to sexual. /Seriously though, I say this so you can be better than us./ But seriously man, why would you complaining about such a meagre thing as one D? Like do you want it to come in sizes? And what’s it going to be for you? Small or large or even extra large huh? The one thing I guess people don’t really comprehend is that campus is a lot more about learning to live than that higher learning.Yeah you read that right. Atleast that’s my point of view. You have four years to figure yourself out and grow out of your shell but the question is. How are you going to do all that if your head is buried in a book all the darn time? I say, go take a walk and contemplate on your value as a human being. Think about how this weekend is going to be more lit than the last one then spend it indoors doing nothing. Think about how bad or good(depending on your perspective) your body count is. Don’t be boring. Do something with your life for crying out loud other than going home from the library when it closes, every single day. Nobody debates that your primary goal here is to read but come on! Don’t forget to live while you are at it.(okay, that sounds awkward after teaching for a month now, or somewhere along that timeline.) I realize that we might interpret living different but still, whatever it is that you decide to do with your time just make sure to make it count. Yes, even if it’s taking that long overdue dump that is threatening to give you some skid marks on your andies. Oh and by the way, make sure you fart real good, we all know its good for your health. Because let’s be honest, everyone has ever gotten a skid mark. No? Just me? Fucking liar.

The one thing I guess people don’t really comprehend is that campus is a lot more about learning to live than that higher learning.Yeah you read that right. Atleast that’s my point of view. You have four years to figure yourself out and grow out of your shell but the question is. How are you going to do all that if your head is buried in a book all the darn time? I say, go take a walk and contemplate on your value as a human being. Think about how this weekend is going to be more lit than the last one then spend it indoors doing nothing. Think about how bad or good(depending on your perspective) your body count is. Don’t be boring. Do something with your life for crying out loud other than going home from the library when it closes, every single day. Nobody debates that your primary goal here is to read but come on! Don’t forget to live while you are at it.(okay, that sounds awkward after teaching for a month now, wow did I really say that? Haha, probably it was me.) I realize that we might interpret living different but still, whatever it is that you decide to do with your time just make sure to make it count. Whether it’s stroking on a girl or beating that meat up to shreds, make it count. Yes, even if it’s taking that long overdue dump that is threatening to give you some skid marks on your andies. Oh and by the way, make sure you fart real good, we all know its good for your health. Because let’s be honest, everyone has ever gotten a skid mark. No? Just me? Fucking liar.

But that hadn’t been the only highlight that semester. My life had been threatened severally for doing something I’d rather not say. Oh yes I almost forgot about that girl that wanted to give it up to yours truly but ninja ni nani.. I guess you can say that I didn’t really utilize the opportunity as it arose. Partly because I didn’t chase after it and partly because I don’t want a one time thingy. If you want me knee deep then we finna ride and die together you dig? That aside I thrashed a freshman at chess who came screaming that he wanted to bet someone to a game. Apparently he was the best in his home area but son, that wasn’t your fucking home. That was the urban-intellect-fucking-jungle ya bish. Okay I think I’m swaying way off topic here and I should probably add a sensor button. What I wanted to say was that I had an argument with this girl from class right? Not really an argument but a debate of sorts. She was saying how comrades from the Kaimenyi regime were lazy and didn’t really put any effort in the exams even. Her information came from what some lecturer said that she had agreed to. I agree to disagree. The lecturer could tell who had read on the unit and who had not during evaluation, big deal. Apparently her argument came down to division of the Kaimenyi era and the Matiang’i era. Basically me and her. The difference? The students from my side were master thieves and 2015 was the cherry on top with even a local media house broadcasting a paper we were to do the very next day. Of course her side had to be the ‘good guys’ as they had worked for their grades since way back then. Again I say, big deal. Nobody gives a damn about how you got there only that you did. Any other business is your own. The fact that you are wearing it like a medal just shows me how much of idiots we are. Yes we. You for speaking dumb things and me for listening attentively. For instance, I imagine nobody will want to know how many nights you slept for two hours but they will be overjoyed by the mere fact that you attained a first class honors. And besides, there is a fine line between being book and street smart. The choice is yours. (No shade.)

And so the great battle of the semester went down recently(over a month ago, keep up). The winners? The comrades of course. I felt great. It was one more thing not to worry about. But while I was happy that I was edging closer to the end, some friends of mine were busy shouting for all who cared to listen that they were done with that hell hole. Well I was shouting back at them that they should shut up because nobody cared even if their parent is the president. Well I’m just bugging, of course we’d care if your family ran the country but no child of the title would be doing such a crappy course. So yeah, nobody cares. Point is, while you’d expect elders (that’s what fourth years call themselves) to be competent enough to do exams without using unscrupulous means as an end, the opposite happens. Apparently elders are too busy doing nothing, businesses, lazing around, doing drugs, getting laid and getting pregnant to be caught up in the library reading on some theories that won’t matter after the final paper, well apart from those idiots hoping to do a masters degree. And so you get fully pledged final semester individuals going to crazy lengths to ensure their transcripts don’t get damaged in the end. But mostly to avoid a Fail. I applaud them for their ingenuity and quite literally, balls of titanium. Imagine the courage of risking a discontinuation and bringing you fucking tablet to an exam room. Like sis, it’s a freaking iPad. Some mwakenya I’d understand, a phone is even more better but noooo… You had to go all out and bring a freaking iPad? The balls man! But it was a lady anyway which make me ask. Are they not suspetible to the invigilator. And how comes we all became so good at stealing? The ladies were especially daring. And had y’all decided that the examination week was when I’d get to see so many juicy thighs? I have never been so happy but depressed in my entire life. I was getting a show for free but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t touch any of that. Only thing I could do was watch as they tattooed their surprisingly succulent thighs with answers to questions we didn’t even know existed. The genius. I guess it’s true what they say, every woman is beautiful but only if she is naked. (You thought I’d say something intellectual didn’t you? Where is the fun in that?) I didn’t say it so don’t come at me with accusations of objectifying ladies as the Greek did. In any case it’s true, ask any man around you and if he says no then he’s a freaking liar and you deserve better. Maybe even me, if you are lucky enough.

In primary school where multiple answers were the norm, we used to have gestures to tell our pals the answers. That was simple enough. In highschool I was caught cheating on a geography test. The invigilator turned around suddenly and caught me red-handed peeping inside my desk. I got startled so that too gave me away. It was a good thing I was caught back then. One because it made me realize two things, one was that I wanted to do history and two, you can only get as good as the system. That I attribute it to humans need of ever trying to outdo themselves. Our need for power makes it only natural. That’s why we have world records. To remind you that you are not the best. But you can beat the best if you try hard enough.

Okay I have a confession. I don’t know where I was heading with the previous paragraph. I can’t make heads or tails of it anymore but I can tell you it was good. In any case I’ll just summarize the entire mambo jambo in a few words. You can have a multi billion company, have great health, have the ultimate date with the most beautiful human you can find, have investments in whatever is trending now and still smoke weed, still drink keg, still chill with loved ones and hypothetically go to space on vacation. Balance is the key. However you interpret that summary is upto you. And I wish I knew French so that I could finish off with something classy. Something like thayo.


One question bugs my existence. Why am I single. I realize that that question is very insignificant in the grand scheme of things. After all, I and consequently we, are very insignificant in the universe or stream of worlds or whatever it is you prefer to call it. Think about it for a minute, maybe let’s start with the food chain. From the simplest yet quite complex organisms taking up some important biological job in the environment, up the food chain to the omnivores that would be us human beings, you’ll find out that everything is connected. Like a circle. I think that’s why they came up with that saying, “whatever goes around comes around.” I feel so philosophical right now, LMAO. At one point in time the earth was literally covered in water when the Almighty Lord opened the flood gates, y’all remember that don’t you? So wherever you are right now was at the bottom of the ocean at a given time and it could be the peak of a mountain in a few thousand years, depending on how long we can keep global warming at bay, if at all. If you really think about it, we are but ants in a single file going nowhere fast. You can’t go back in line neither can you step out of line. As a matter of fact the only thing you can do is stay in line. And it with this realization that I find myself looking for answers to questions that really don’t matter but also do. Perhaps it is because I am looking for answers from within while trying to discover myself afresh that I find this both an intriguing yet gruelling experience. Maybe it’s the loneliness killing me softly. Perhaps I’m sick and tired of being told ‘you are cute’ by every other girl. Stop lying to me I know I’m a little bit ugly, just a bit. Maybe I’m claustrophobic and the blue sky is coming closer and closer so that it becomes a shade darker as if in competition with my balls. I’m definitely tired of waiting for me to run into my one true love. I once told my friend that I take long walks around school while trying to convince myself of something but in the actual sense I do that to increase my chances of bumping into this picture perfect girl that would turn out to be the one. You don’t have to tell me I already know, I’m hopeless. So what exactly I’m I looking for in ‘the one’? I also don’t know, I guess I’ll know it when I find it. Plus, I refuse to conform ‘the one’ to such restrictions of how she ought to be. I’m such a gentleman, the hopeless gentleman.

And it’s not that I don’t have any available suitors to begin with. I do, but the difference between expectations and reality is magnanimous. I thought that by the time I got to my age I would have money, women,drugs and sex. I only have drugs and even that is also waning in sight. I wonder what happened to the other three expectations. I was talking the other day with this girl I knew from way back when I was a thriving nine year old and she called me a coward. Wait a minute. Did she really call me a coward after all this time? The truth could not have been more blunt. But she’s cute so she can get away with it but as I was lamenting,these daughters of Eve will be the end of us! I hate being called a coward but I think it’s a spot on analysis of me. I mean there are moments when I swallow every ounce of fear in my being and actually talk with people and moreso girls but that only happens in those once in a blue moments. And when it happens I say too much and/or flirt too much and probably say things that I should not say in the first Meetup. In any case she revealed to me that if I had asked her to be my girlfriend then, maybe, just maybe my story would have been different, albeit by a margin. But I didn’t so she admitted her love for another while in class three, the freaking guts! But as there is nothing new in the world the one she loved wanted another and that one wanted another and so the cycle continues.

The only consolation from my primary school days was right after the rainy season. We used to have two fields, one covered in dirt while the other one was covered in a green scenery. It was a weird contrast but we couldn’t comprehend the symbolism back then. I guess it was trying to say that the world existed in a binary function, you can have and you can lack, two sides of the same coin, two extremes existing in unison complementing each other in every respect- God and man, the desert and the ocean, the good and the bad, man and woman- then there is me in all my singularity. Right after the rainy season, while the soil was still wet, there would be shoots coming up in the green field. Give it a week or two and papyrus reeds would be taller than the tallest guy in school. We’d wait until the water dried up since it was clay but the best part came right after that. That was when we could ignore virtually every game there ever was and focused on one major one that was in it’s prime season, fucking hide and seek.

I don’t say fucking hide and seek as if by jest. Far from it, we were actually fucking while hiding, waiting to be sought by a poor bastard who was unlucky enough to have drawn the short straw. It wasn’t a surprise that they could only find a handful of us. The top tier hiders were busy grinding and dry humping the girl they had a crush on. Or girls because who doesn’t want to have a threesome? If you got lucky you’d get to kiss her. And girls would give it up nicely, thank the stars for tele novela. We learnt a lot of how the world works from that period of our lives. Despite not knowing how to push the andies to the side, we still had the time of our lives.

But that is a story of over a decade ago and we shall not dwell on it any longer. When I joined campus it was the best time to be alive, as I presume it is for everyone. Now the satellite campus that I went to was quite frankly, a small community. In fact you could have known who’s who during the first three days. The staunch believers, the happygoluckys, the ratchets, the models, the ones with zero dignity,the wifey materials, the girl squads and so on and so forth. So dating options were drastically reduced by those factors. So when my friends and consequently my course mates were busy getting lovers and what not, I was just there waiting for the one I was destined for to fall down like manna from heaven. Luckily for me, a regime I had been working on for a few months prior to campus came to fruitation. Bottom line was that I couldn’t date from the selection available because my girlfriend came thru for me every weekend. The longest relationship I ever had was with that fine gem. Do you know how much of a flex it was to say that your girlfriend visited every weekend? Then every weekend becomes every other week until you are left with memories to push you thru the week. She left me on account of some issues I didn’t know I had. What can I say, c’est la vie. We were basically age mates but I tend to think she was way mature than I was back then and boy could she throw it back for a nigga. It’s amazing how I never once cheated on her. I had multiple opportunities with girls coming left right and more so in the center but I only had eyes for her. Nigga was truly in love. My best friend from that time says that’s she’s the one I’m gonna put a ring on. Hmmm, I wouldn’t know about that but one things for sure, she was my first Love. One of this fine days I’ll have to talk about first love and true love, is there a difference?

I guess it’s worth it since Abraham, the father of all nations, wouldn’t be that without his wife Sarah. Let’s avoid the subject of how she was past menopause. If I ask these girlfriends of mine if it was worth it they are definitely going to say yes so I won’t. Their judgement is clouded after all. But if there is one thing they keep on insisting is that I don’t rush it. Great advice guys! I’ve been single since like forever. Live in the moment they say, the right one will come your way. If that ain’t some sugarcoated bullshit. As much as I take their advice to heart, I’ll believe what they’re saying is true when I see my picture perfect girl walking in slow motion with the wind blowing her hair and essentially her perfume in my direction. Is that too much to ask? That the wind wafts in my direction my beloved’s perfume. I also wouldn’t mind a sneaky preview if you may; that the wind lifts up the skirt she will be wearing, a glimpse is all I ask of. Haha.. I said too much didn’t I? Unless she will be wearing a pair of pants then the wind will be totally useless apart from the perfume bit.

When I came back for this semester after being away for way too long, I found changes I did not expect. Not changes in the varsity, that would be too boring to even write about. Two of my girlfriends were single again. Now I mean girls that are friends, don’t get it twisted. I’m not that much of a Casanova anyway, or am I? But that’s not saying I would pass on a chance to have a little taste of the forbidden pleasure you know. It is at this point that you really question your values as a man. Do you uphold the bro code or do you get your hand in the cookie jar? I guess only time Will tell. Anyway, it was a surprise. Although I’m not sure if it was a pleasant one or a nightmare, maybe a bit of each. We basically knew each other from our earlier days in campus so ours has been a journey of five years. Shit, now that I think about it there is no difference between me and medicine students. They actually knew my first girlfriend if anything and so it goes without saying that I know the guys. Why they would each choose to flush a five year old commitment down the drain is a question I’m yet to ask any of them. This development made me question a lot of things. To what extent are we all willing to put up with something and for how long? At what point do you consider an action by your partner the last straw? Two years ago if I had told any of them that they’d be single I’d have only received their wrath. Now we laugh it off like something off a bad movie with ridiculous budget cuts. So why would anyone want to be in a happy place only for it to be abruptly put to an end? What is the meaning of all this? Is it even worth it to begin with? And in any case, why am I still single?

So, why am I single? I guess if I could answer that question I wouldn’t be writing about it in the first place. If I could answer that I would be well on my way to wash my cum rug. Not that I don’t wash it, but atleast not as often as I’d want to. So why is it that the son of the soil cannot find a pair of firm breasts to caress and some round piece of buttocks to warm his bed? As I said I don’t know why but I have a feeling that by the end of this I’ll have a clue as to my situational misfortune. I think.

I think I have the clue now. First of all, I think sex is overated but only because I’m not getting laid, like at all. Partly because I disregard females as a means to find out how to bag one of them for life. Having said that, I also acknowledge my fault when it comes to this gender. I slurp my tea, I’m not sure if that’s related but I know it’s one thing about me that I don’t really care about. I usually have all the right cards up my sleeve but I often throw in the couple of aces I have a minute earlier and that leaves me with nothing to do or say. So more often than not I step on the gas way too early going for the sprint instead of the marathon. I also wasted my resources when I was back home so now I literally have no extra monies to take anyone let alone ‘the one’ for a proper date, me being a gentleman and all. Then there is another thing, it would seem that I only want to get together to waste time fucking and cuddling and fucking and cuddling over and over again instead of finding some meaningful connection. I swear if this trend continues I’ll have to find a very suitable answer for my ancestors trying to explain why their son went to the university only to get his balls crushed between the dust filled books that I don’t care to read. But I ain’t tripping because as we all know, heaven is the goal.


Earlier on in the previous week, as I was going to attend a lecture, I caught something from the corner of my eye. It was a poster from our favorite cross, the red cross Kenya. It was about a blood drive that was to happen on Friday the 13th. Great, I’m not superstitious but hey, what could possibly go wrong huh? I don’t know, like why was the poster blue and not the stereotype red? Possibly because it’s a steriotype. I mean yes, it got the job done and sensitized the masses but that is besides the point. Maybe they had budget cuts or the red ink got depleted on the last blood drive, who knows. In any case I still feel that they deprived us of the usual terrifying blood drenching, red warning but that’s just me. But I put that on the back stove for a moment since I had more pressing concerns, one of them being a literature presentation on Canterbury tales. My God, the workload this semester! It’s even worse since the friends whom I have that are higher up tell me things like “oh… Canterbury tales? You haven’t seen shit yet!” Like this isn’t enough yet. I hate to love them.

I remember the first time I ever donated blood. It was such an experience seeing that I remember everything about it. It was back at my highschool and I was in the last form. So the red cross guys came thru on a predetermined date and we were ready for them. Of course one assumption they had was that nobody among us had ever done anything to defile our blood. Wrong. A good number of us would get high on some bush weed in the holidays and a few brave ones managed to sneak some to school. I couldn’t bring myself to smoke at school. Not because it was a drug free zone or any of that bull crap. It was only that the bush weed left you smelling like you were putting out a forest fire such that anyone would recognize that smell a mile away. So It was actually a smart move on my end to sieze any drug related activities while in school to avoid unnecessary drama by the school authority. I’m so considerate. We were educated on the benefits of blood donation blah blah blah. Although one question that keeps coming up over and over again in my mind is why giving blood is free whilst being given blood on the other hand costs you a pretty dime. Anyway we were convinced that we were doing good and the promise of some incentives at the end of it all seemed to drive the boys crazy with excitement. Clearly boarding school was doing a number on us if a 500ml bottle of soda would make the boys push each other on the line. The school, in a show of good will, gave everyone who donated that day a piece of bread. Now you have to know that bread was very sacred in our school. Yes we might have been known for all the wrong reasons; being self proclaimed and socially accepted bad boys, but even if it came to torching the school because we were just felling like it, there was an unanimous consent that two things should never be touched. One was the bus which was very beloved only because it was still new and an object of jealousy in regards to the other schools. I remember every time we entered a function (funky) and especially in a girls school, we would do so with them speakers booming to the latest dancehall mix by some DJ I don’t care to remember. Shout out to all the mix masters, nobody does it how you do. Second and most importantly was the bakery. Yes we could and should loot it because why not, but not set any flames on it’s sacred walls. If it helps don’t even look at it, assume it was never there in the first place. And so my love for bread was born. I was actually a class prefect for some time and actively participated in a grabbing fest but that’s a story for another day. Back to donating. Then again, why is it that the injection bit doesn’t hurt as much but the removing of the needle makes you want to pee your pants? These questions I want answered.

So the day comes and I remember I have a girlfriend who says she had never before in her life donated blood. I get her, there are so many first timers too. Like my first time getting a lap dance. Shit I wanted to rip my clothes of like that bearded wrestler I used to watch in a black and white screen and then fornicate. But one thing about lap dances is that you can look, you can feel but you can’t touch…damn. Since I have interests to protect I have to categorically state that she is not the GIRLFRIEND, just a girlfriend, the former post is reserved for someone, I don’t know whom either. So I get her and we head out to the campus grounds. We get there just in time and are given these forms to fill in the details which is mandatory. In a moment of pure courage, honesty and honor I answer one of the questions ‘yes’ instead of an assumed ‘no’. The question was have you ever used drugs like marijuana and cocaine e.t. c. I mean I would have lied if I had said no but saying yes didn’t exactly win me honest guy of the year award. Infact it got me into trouble with the lady in charge of those forms. She gestured me closer and asked me which one I was guilty of. I told her I used to fuck around with Maryjane. It wasn’t exactly a true statement but it wasn’t a lie either. I inflicted the past participle in the verb use to indicate that I had stopped. Which was exactly her second question, she asked how long it’s been since I last used. Now this part I totally lied. I mumbled something but she didn’t quite get it so I had to repeat myself. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard then lied thru my teeth by saying it had been over two years. She looked at me with doubt written all over her face and told me it was useless if I was still using since they couldn’t exactly give someone else bad blood. ( for lack of a better term). I’m stubborn alright since I already knew all this but I still insisted on donating. Imagine the embarrassment for having to step out of it line after coming all that way. I was adamant that that was what I wanted. With her hands tied she signed my form and let me proceed.

Then I start noticing things. There was a girl who has already donated blood but looked so fragile that she couldn’t get up and go. I wanted to go to her and give her some tough love and be like, “hey princess, you might be the fairest of them all but it’s not fair that all eyes are on you for whatever reason,” but I can’t. She might have an even more fragile heart and fall in love with yours truly. So I let her be and assume my place as a mere mortal. In my head there is a debate going on. I clearly am still using Maryjane in all her ratchetness so why am I here? I know that my blood is useless, unless they have a vampire under lock and key and even that won’t take mine as the first pick. It’s not that I have extremely defiled my blood it’s just that I know it’s not the purest it could be. So why was I still there patiently waiting for my turn to get pricked by a big ass needle? Maybe it is the tragic flaw that comes with every tragic hero; that I intend to do good to others and to the world at the cost of my wellbeing or whatever it is that I sacrifice in return. I really don’t give much thought when it comes to doing good, some might even say that I’m a sweet soul, but am I? I have lots of doubt on this.

It’s too late to turn back now as I’m up next. The blood flows rather quickly like it’s glad to get out of my body. Like damn, this liquid be a traitor and shit, why you gonna leave me like that? While the life is being drained out of me, I start looking for the customary bread that I’m so hooked on. I start to panic. I lean over to the guy next to me and ask him if there is any bread after this. In the spirit of good comradeship he laughs it off and asks me if I intended to sort out my breakfast via my blood. I say yes, unashamedly. He whispers and says that’s probably the highest price a breakfast can cost. I agree. But I’m broke and I have to find means to cope with my stomach asking for everything at every turn. Our conversation attracts a police officer who was single handedly manning the whole activity. Somehow my cry for bread appeals to his good side and promises me and some other few individuals a loaf each. Now I won’t even lie to y’all. When he said that I expected him to send monies, not go buy actual breads to gift us. Maybe it’s my naivety or my kikuyu blood always looking for the next cash in, yeah it’s definitely my kikuyu blood. Anyway after my turn is up, I get the usual half a litre of soda to replace the lost blood. I think they should get us milk or whatever never mind that my blood is intoxicated. Speaking of which, what do they do to bad blood? Do they burn it as some sacrifice to some diety of whatever or do they keep it that incase we have a zombie apocalypse, they’d have enough blood supply for some top secret research of patient zero? That’s it, I should be in the movie industry (ehem, any producer out there?)

While on our walk back to our various residences, I ask the girlfriend how she thought the whole experience. She’s a bubbly one that one, talks nonstop. I’m glad her blood could be of value to someone somewhere since she doesn’t partake in any drugs whatsoever. I’m happy that in my mediocrity of doing something of no value to myself and the entire human race, there was someone who filled in the gaps that I missed. Very proud of myself. She invites me over for supper (coz we have no idea what dinner is around these parts) and we have such a wholesome meal. Did I mention that I cook marvelously?

On Saturday I get a message from another girlfriend, probably the one you don’t take home to momma. And she’s like, “we need to have a session.” I Know that I shouldn’t be going anywhere with her in my bloodless state but temptation gets the better of me. Plus it’s been a minute since we last hanged out so why not. So in the afternoon we meet up and go scavenger hunting for some weed seeing that since corona came there had been a change in the dynamics of plugs around campus. She’s one of the few people I know that goes all out when it comes to partying, like don’t get in her squad if you can’t hold your own kind of girl. I love the extremes. We are almost to our destination when I notice a guy we refer to as 420. He’s not a plug but he never lacks a joint or two on him, synonymous with his name. Before I know it, we are at his place and I’m fucking him up at FIFA. Yeah I might miss a finger or two but I still give anyone a run for their money at the game. I don’t know how many blunts we partook in but it was quite a number and I was still winning. He reaches out to someplace I didn’t quite look at and fishes out a whole 750 ml chrome gin bottle, untouched. Usually I know my stuff. You wouldn’t find me mixing gas and liquor but as I said, I was laden with bad decisions. I take the damn bottle and chug down some alcohol. Worst mistake I did.

Soon enough my body starts to heat up. I lean over to the girl I came with and whisper to her that I don’t feel so good. She’s unassuming and tells me to relax. I do just that but my body has other plans of its own. You see, mixing liquor and weed is bad enough on its own, but when you do that exact same thing within 24 hours of donating blood you get something of a catastrophe. I started sweating up so bad that I was literally drenching the couch wet. I mean even when I lost my virginity I didn’t sweat that much. It was so bad that the whole gang noticed. In a moment of concern they took me outside to get some fresh air and immediately went back inside leaving me there to my own devices. So with nobody to comfort me, the reality of my actions slowly but surely built up in me together with the puke. As my head was bent over a pit latrine puking my guts out, I literally comprehended the message my body was trying to communicate to me. Then again my mistake was that I hadn’t eaten before the scavenger hunt. My body was literally rejecting all the bad shit I was giving it. Like it was trying to save me form myself. I got the message loud and clear and I found myself in a shop getting myself a packet of milk. Well in any case the damage was already done and there was little I could do to save my face, let alone my body, of the embarrassment of having chickened out at the chance of a sherehe. Let’s not even talk about how my gangster points took a nose dive.

You know that saying you should learn from the other’s mistake? You should definitely do that. Learn from my stupidity and never ending misfortunes. Never go on any kind of sherehe unless there is meru porridge involved and especially not after doing a marvelous act like that of donating blood. I’m still asking myself if red cross will hear my plea for bread because why not give in since you are getting free blood in return, literally. One last thing, if you are my future employer reading this and you ask me if I do drugs I’ll be like, “sorry I didn’t quite get that. Would you be as kind as to say that again?” I’d then take a deep breath, clear my throat and then proceded to smile while lying thru my teeth about how I’ve never been one for worldly pleasures. Why would you want me to be honest with you on day one and loose a chance of getting better shit with the salary I’ve come so far to get? Are you mad!? One more thing, (shit) I think I need Jesus in my life.


I recently met up with one of those long lost friends and that was something. It’s always good to see people you once knew from a different time in your life doing well for themselves. If anything it sparks off a sense of admiration, respect and more often than not, jealousy. I know that’s petty but come on!! You want to tell me you’ve never felt a hint (however tiny ) of jealousy as you smiled and showed off your perfectly white teeth which you’ve been whitening since you were little? Call that the white lie. If you have never felt this surge of one of the most profound emotion then good for you. But why were you smiling so freely in the first place? Was it not to elicit the same jealousy on your counterpart? So that they’d think to themselves, “damn this MF has the perfect dental formula, I wish mine could be as exquisite as theirs.” But they can’t say it out loud since your level of pride would shoot beyond the roof level and as we all know, pride is the devil. Fuck that guy .

Anyway a few weeks later, after either one of us ( don’t remember who) had viewed the other’s Whatsapp status, we got talking. And he told me one of the most sensual and absurd things one could tell a fellow man. He told me and I paraphrase, ” it was nice seeing you the other day. And by the way when we were talking I saw something in your eyes, something deep – a fire that is waiting to be sparked. ” Okay I’ll be honest, I was flattered for some unknown reason. Compliments are hard to come by and I was not expecting this, at all. So when he dished out those words I couldn’t help but smile a little. I might have even let out a subtle chuckle. I mean it’s not everyday that you get bombarded with such niceties for words. But the smile quickly disappeared as one question hit my mind, which fire was he really talking about? My academic fire maybe? No that couldn’t be it. So maybe it was my artistic fire, no? But that couldn’t be it since he knew nothing of my endeavors to become a world renowned writer. So having exhausted my supply of questions and answers, I asked him what he meant by that clause. Then I braced myself for anything.

He then proceded to ask me what my stand was on in regards to homosexuality. Great! The one gray area where I don’t want to find myself on and this guy was forcing my hand. If you’ve read one of my previous blogs then you’d remember that one lecture who tried to give me the D. That shit is traumatizing as hell and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So subconsciously borrowing from that past event and other recent ones that were more like minor incidents I told him my stand on this very controversial topic. As a sidenote you should know that my country’s law is very clear on this matter. It even resulted in the banning of that film Rafiki by the film board of Kenya blah blah blah. Very strict laws, or are they? I told him that I was what I’d call a semi-homophic. Didn’t really care if it was a thing or not. It’s a lukewarm area that would make me the object of ridicule and jest and maybe, just maybe some admiration. Its more of a double standard really. You see I’d fuck with lesbians as most guys in the world would but being gay is where I would draw the line. Everyone has the right to make a stand, right?

Right before the corona pandemic came knocking, I had a breakthrough. You can say that I played the system. With an overpayment in my varsity account I swindled my pops a few thousands, something in the late teens. So yes, I was balling albeit for a very short period of time. As usual, I was late to report back as I usually was. I personally think that people who report early on have nothing to live for apart from books which can be a very boring existence. I mean get a life you fucking scholar, or find a way to immortalize yourself like Chomsky or whoever it is you are reading about. Anyway I get to the bus stage and I have to go deposit the cash because I can’t be carrying that amount of money haphazardly, I’ve seen all the movies so I know what to do,not make it easy for them. On my way I notice this fine babe and we look at each other momentarily only at a passing glance. I want to go after her but I can’t because I have to deposit the money first. I call that a chance lost and go on my way. Then the most unbelievable thing happens. As I had already booked my seat I make my way back and see the same babe hungrily eating away at some fries. It was simply fate literally throwing me back my lost chance to my face. I quickly change seats so as to be seated next to her and plan on the topics that I should shoot my shot with. She later on confessed that she had noticed me but was too hungry to do anything about it. I love a woman of appetite. If you must know, I’m generally shy and I really have to want it to show my teeth. And I really wanted it. It was amazing to say the least. She was definitely my type and I even heard wedding bells in the distance. She gets to her destination and alights but not before leaving me her number. Fast forward and we are closed down because now we can’t have gatherings of any sort. With nothing better to do at campus and my swindled money quickly being subtracted by the hour, I pack my bags and head home.

Come April 1st, I propose to her. A feat I haven’t been able to reciprocate to date. I didn’t even know that date until she told me of it. Trust women to remember how your boxer was severely torn before you won the lottery or became salaried. But since there was a lockdown in effect, all this was done via the network. I remember an incident that made me mad and happy at the same time. Now as there was no possible scenarios where I could extend my physical contact to my person being miles apart and what not, we were left with communicating day and night. The only period where my bonga points exceeded a thousand points. I redeemed them all, ironically. Anyway this one time I started getting these vibes of a hostile takeover. You can always tell when you are not getting the same energy as before. I imagine it’s more or less the same in marriages. I was introduced to Dee. Well not really introduced but I heard of the name Dee over and over again. Came to find out that that Dee was actually female. Imagine my surprise. Don’t know why but I was thinking that that name belonged to a man given that our main feature is also named the D. See how petty man can get? So what was I worried about in the first place? Turns out my girl was falling for this other girl because she possessed something I didn’t, home advantage. She could be there at anytime of the day meaning she could sweep off my girl off her feet whenever she felt like it. Plus I think being a girl gave her an edge over me seeing that she had emotional, intellectual and whatever else females can have over their male counterparts. So maybe home advantage wasn’t the only advantage she had. Apparently she was also romantic taking my girl out to dates and shit. I was mad people. Really mad. Like how do you explain to your ancestors that the girl you wanted was stolen away from you by another girl? How do you feel having your candy taken away from you? However, as much as I was mad I was actually impressed that a hostile takeover was in effect. Well one thing was guaranteed atleast, my chances of ever getting a threesome had just doubled. That gave me some sense of relief as to the takeover not being so bad. I mean an owner cannot be the caretaker. So if the girl was mine then I’d rather have another girl hold my stead until I showed up to claim my rights in place of a guy. Like I ain’t trying to lay pipe in another man’s backyard you know what I’m saying? Forgive my arrogance for talking as if I owned the girl but she was mine at that point in history. Females love that shit of being called mine or my queen or any other noun that befits the occasion. Although you never know with this gender, one wrong noun and you’d have to grow a pair of eyes behind your head, guys be dangerously protecting their own out here.

Then recently I had another experience that firmly affirmed my beliefs. It was just another day in life and I was just from my lectures. ( Took a lot from me for not saying classes.) I was tired and my only thought was to get a movie then go in right ahead to my crib and kick it in till the next day. I got out of the gates and then I heard it. Being a petro-head I’m always intrigued by the sound of perfection in turbos and what not. So I turned my head to find the source of this heart throbbing sound and I spotted it. Can’t say that I was impressed. Well the machinery itself was quite exquisite being a sport bike and I am a sucker for speed. But what I saw disturbed me deeply. Right before my eyes was the biker clothed in all his gear expect for the helmet, so you could actually tell which gender he was from that alone. That wasn’t disturbing as much as the next part. Holding him tightly from the back was this average looking, rugged up, sleep deprived, haven’t showered in a minute ( I think out of choice if anything) looking ass double ganger. I didn’t like the smile he had on. First I get it that there is no other way to ride on that machine other than hold onto the rider for dear life but come on! I personally wouldn’t. I mean I think the only way to ride that thing properly is to have a female make that jealousy illiciting arc to make anyone that sees y’all have a hard on or sneer at you for living the life you know fully well that you deserve. Not this bromance thing they had going on here. Like if someone came upto me and told me to hop on, I most probably wouldn’t. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that my whole being would rise in resistance at such an ordeal. Unless this was Pompeii and everyone was destined to die at the end. Wait, everyone is destined for death so why can’t I still do it? I don’t really know as I can’t put my finger on it, I just can’t. (put my finger on it and ride at the back with my ass up in the air like I just don’t care, because I do!) So I couldn’t understand why this double ganger couldn’t have first and foremost showered and secondly met up with the rider later if they were going to some spot. That scene alone made me question a lot of things. Things like how the actual fuck while in highschool, we had nicknamed this guy ‘celina’, because he was as a matter of fact thicker than my highschool love at the time and why in heavens sweet melodies guys used to take turns grinding that ass. Now was I one of those who bumped into another man’s buttocks? I won’t tell since I do that thing where I kiss rather passionately then bury it within me. But I only heard of a homosexual scandal only once in my highschool and even that was a rumor of hearsay. So anyway, where does this leave me in this world of controversy? At the forefront of fighting against or for homosexuality or at the back pushing those at the front of either side to take the next step? In all honesty, I don’t really care if laws are passed in support or discrimination of the same. I think I’m rather better situated at the sidewalks to walk with them only as a means to increase my chances of getting a threesome since the best chance I had didn’t work out for me. Anything more than that and I’d be lying to myself and to the masses. And you know what the good Book says, be weary of false prophets. It didn’t work out for Dee either so that was a double tragedy. But I give you fair warning, if the threesome was to include some other guy dangling his gadgets on my face( why would he be dangling his gadgets on my face though?),then I’d rather leave the two of them to their own devices. Isn’t that still a threesome? Well yes it is but it’s not what I envisioned in my dark twisted mind. You see when that happens, considering I’m growing older and my chances are going down the drain, I want two pairs of boobs, one for each hand . Like an all you can eat buffet. Come to think of it, that man Solomon, did he ever have multiple women at one go or that wasn’t even fathomable even to the wisest that ever lived?, Oh well, the book of Ecclesiastes says that there is nothing new under the sun so I’ll just leave it at that.

I’m sure we’ve all taken something from here paramount to which is don’t steal from anyone moreso your parents. That shit is almost guaranteed never to turn out how you want it to. I also still hear wedding bells in the distance. The only problem now is I have to find a bride. How am I supposed to do that? I also hate the talking phase. Like we are adults now so we both know what we want and need, can we skip to the part where we make babies. Ahahaha… That’s so many red flags. Let me delete that part and none of you will be none the wiser. (Smirk face emoji.)

I haven't been writing for months now as I was fighting some depression and anxiety and really the pressure of life. So this is me being back to my element and my muse finally coming out of its shell to hopefully do some amazing things. If you've reached this far then I'd really fuck with you. No seriously you have my respect. Watch this space as I have more coming your way. Again thank you for reaching this far.