Uncategorized

A BIRD STRUGGLING TO FLY

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I met Brendah back then in campus a year and a half ago. She was a quite girl with sparkling white eyes and dark lips. She looked like she was always lost in her thoughts and when she stared at you you’d see a fierce black woman who probably would not entertain your chitty chat.

But all that intimidating look faded the minute she’d open her mouth to speak. She has always been very articulate and does not mince her words, confidence in her speech her tone remains somewhere in between harsh and kind but being well schooled she will bring the point home without losing you somewhere in the vocabularies.

At the time I was running for the highest student government office in the University and I needed smart and hardworking individuals to spearhead my campaign. After having lunch with her two months before the campaign started I knew from the start that she would make a good member of my committee and when the day came I made her the Vice Chair for the main committee that would put me in the ‘Iron throne.’

Long story short the campaigns came and went and for another year I lost her in the midst of academics, personal life and work and when she resurfaced it felt like I had met a completely different person. She was now lost in her thoughts more than ever, she now had one friend who she walked around with as opposed to the four cohorts that hobnobbed around her when I first met her. She wore black all the time like a woman in mourning and was on a strict diet with the aim of cutting her tummy and pushing all that fat down to her bums. She was basically sad.

So I invited her for lunch so that we could catch up and tell tales of when we were young and what not. She then showed up at the agreed time and place, titivated in a black garb from head to toe. A black top and a fluffy jacket (Like the one for ‘Man’s not hot’) to cover her arms. Her black Adidas sneakers matched well with her black tight pants and her dark lips were covered in a black rich lipstick, the kind of black that glows and shows nothing but class.

The next hour was followed by conversations that were neither here nor there. We talked about everything, how tough the campaigns were, how good and bad life has been to us in the past year, academic progress and anything that would kill time before she got comfortable to get into the finer details.

“You know why I asked you to meet, right?” I finally cut the chase.

“No King Nduti, please bring me up to speed,” She jested.

“What’s up, you’re alright?” I queried.

She paused then her mind went on her trip and then her gaze moved away from my eyes and she looked away. Her once sparkling eyes were now a dark shade of dejection and deep down you’d see a woman who was heavy laden, hoping she’d find rest.

“I was 12 when my misery started, I am such a mess and I feel like I’m in a deep dark pit, its suffocating.”

Pause.

“My mom used to travel a lot when we were kids. She’d leave for work and my brother and I would be left home with our dad. At the time we lived in a squeezed two bedroom house in Githurai 44, so my brother and I shared the room but we had different beds. When mom was a way something peculiar would happen, I wasn’t sure what was happening at the time..it was just crazy, something new to me that I couldn’t fathom.”

Like a rose in the morning sun she started opening up, revealing her most vulnerable past and pouring it all out because all she wanted is to be free, free from the ghosts that have been haunting her for a decade.

“At night I would hear someone coming in our room, I couldn’t tell if it was a he or a she but could tell it was an adult because I could feel the size of the hand. But since I was the only girl in the house I was sure it was a he. When mom left for work the only people in the house left were my younger brother, my cousin who was like ten years older than me and my dad. The person would come, lift the tacked in net and grope me, in that darkness I could feel his big hand touching me everywhere, and he would caress my tiny boobs then slide his gigantic hand down my panties and touch my parts then finger me – at the time I didn’t know what it all meant.”

At this point as she narrated her ordeal and where her life started heading south I am freaking out, I am hoping that the person doing all that was not her sweet father who before she opened up always spoke highly of him, a hero, a family man who wanted nothing but the best for his family.

 

“Did you tell anyone? Did you confront the person while he was doing that?” I ask worriedly.

“I was shaking like a leaf when it happened, every time it happened I just lay there, my heart beating fast like the formula 1 cars, scared to even turn to see if I could see his face. So I just laid there and closed my eyes, praying that he’d leave me alone. Then one day my cousin left and it was now just me, my younger brother and my dad. Deep down I hoped that it was my cousin with such mannerisms, I was relieved that he was now gone. So that night I slept feeling less afraid, but just when I was beginning to catch some sleep I heard footsteps approaching our room and then the door screaked open. The man approached my bed and did what he always did, I was in so much pain as his huge finger penetrated my parts but the most painful thing was knowing now for sure that it was my dad!”

My eyes lit up and I sat upright, my chest now hot and perspiration evident on my face. I couldn’t believe it, I just sat there, not knowing what to do. She wasn’t crying or showing any signs of tears. Her eyes now darted across the room and stuck on a TV that advertised content in Viusasa.

“Did you confront him?”

“No. I was so scared and disappointed to do that.” She continued.

“The next day I decided to end my nightmares by staying awake all night until he came. I wore a full neck and tucked it inside my sweatpants. I then drank a lot of coffee but really it wasn’t the coffee that kept me awake, it was the fear of facing reality. When I finally heard the footsteps I pretended I was asleep. He then started touching me like he always did, it was dark and quiet and even though his breath was labored I could still hear him breathing like a hungry tiger as he touched my chest. I then counted to three and turned abruptly, my tiny hand landing on her huge wrist. I instantly clasped at his hand and tightened my grip but he was stronger than me. He freed himself from my grasp, fleeing into darkness.

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The following morning I couldn’t leave my room, I was scared and angry at my dad. After minutes of pondering whether to go to the living room I heard my mom speaking, she was finally home! They were laughing and giggling heartedly. I was so relieved that mom was around, I therefore decided that I would report him to mom so that he could explain his actions. I left my room prepared to name and shame the monster that had been caressing me and touching my parts when mom was away.

“Tell her what you did!” I barked. “Tell mom what you have been doing to me.”

I said, tears rolling down my face. Mom, who was in the kitchen making breakfast remained silent, she didn’t even come to the living room to find out what was going on, instead she chose to leave me deal with my father alone. When our eyes finally met I could see the guilt and shame in his eyes but he pretended that he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

‘You mean when I came to your room last night to cover you and make sure your net was well tucked in?’ My father replied, all the while pretending to be the best daddy in the whole wide world.

I couldn’t believe it.”

She stops, looks down in disappointment and uses her nails to wipe her watering eyes. At that point I could not even utter a word, I was devastated by the details of her story. I could only imagine how that had and has been for her so I reached for her hand and soothed her palms, I sympathized with my actions because I was afraid I would open my mouth and say the wrong thing which would open a can of bigger worms than the ones that came from the one she had opened.

“I tried to call my mom, I was so angry and as I stood there near the shoe rack I felt alone and betrayed by own parents. A father who would molest me at night and a mother who was so scared to confront him. I started throwing all the shoes in the rack at him, crying and wailing like a lakeside woman during their theatrical burial ceremonies then stormed out.

Later in the day I came home only to find a new phone from my dad and new headphones, things we couldn’t even afford at the time – Was it a coincidence that now my father could afford that?

“Your father apologizes for what you think happened last night, he was just there to make sure you guys were alright,” My Mom finally spoke to me.

I just went to my room and cried and from that day I decided to block the whole incident, and since then we have been living like nothing happened. I’m in a mess Nduti, I am lost and I feel like I’m sinking low and low into obscurity. At least that’s how it all started”

She finished with a sigh. I had even stopped taking notes, my palms were sweaty and my mind wandered about all the things that might be going through her head.

“Are you sure you are comfortable about me writing all this?”

“Yeah go for it, if it helps you win the Pulitzer award, hehe…”

I smile, not knowing if that’s a joke, sarcasm or she’s just not foreal.

“Anyway, I hope my story inspires someone to tell theirs because I know there are so many people who are suffering out there, hiding the deepest parts of their lives, things that eat them up every day. It helps talking to people, helps one to move on,” she added, giving me the greenlight.

PS:

Do you know anyone out there with a story they would like to share? Any story, sad or happy, but something that has affected them either positively or negatively and they would like to share put it out there? Hit me up at hekayazanduti@gmail.com and I will meet up to get your risto.

Another PS:

That was part one of the story, part two coming up next week.

 

 

 

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Life, Uncategorized

BOY CHILD

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I had just cleared my O levels and time was all I had on my plate. Efforts by the best woman in my life, my dear mother, to take me to Institute of Advanced Technology to do ICDL bore no fruits because despite the classes on top of my plate I still had time to chase one fine babe in my mtaa.

 

Whenever you see a boy child strolling tap that whippersnapper at the back and tell him,

“It’s gonna be alright mate.”

 

A fine bird lived a few blocks from our home. She was called Stellar and true she was astral and in that small estate she was the hottest conversation boys ever had in their circles, I bet you’d compare her with those beautiful women from the song Despacito.

 

Because a boy child has to try, wear a few dope clothes, smell nice and throw a few punch lines I decided to put my first feet forward and surprisingly she gave me a nod, a nod to watch movies at her place when her folks went for work.

 

You see, sometimes in life, all you need to do is ask, so I asked and Stellar gave me the nod. Boy, I was the OG in my hood, boys huddled around me for advice.

 

So I went in only to find her watching Telenovelas, on my arrival the channel was changed and a movie by Will Smith started playing. You know when the guy is on the screen its gonna be lit (Insert Slay Queens tone) so we cuddled, ate popcorn and laughed, enjoying every bit of it.

 

Punde si Punde a car honked outside their gate. Holy Molly! It was her mom. Now that’s the part the boy child really faces it rough. In a split second, I was instructed to race upstairs, first room on my left and find my way under her bed. I raced faster than Usain Bolt and in two shakes of a rabbit’s tail, I was under her bed, panting like a Mulembe Bull during one of those fights.

 

Because we were young and stupid the Boy child had forgotten that his shoes were outside, so the mother asked,

 

“Hizi ni viatu za nani?”

(Whose shoes are these?) 

Wololoo mayoo

 

My head started spinning, boy child had been caught. Before I could figure out my next move I was pulled under that bed by a gigantic woman, eyes popping out like those women in Hausa animism rituals.

 

“Unacheza na msichana wangu akiamungu utanitambua leo.’

(I will teach you a lesson for messing with my daughter) 

The woman barked. The fine bird tried to plead with her to let me go as we were ‘just watching movies’ but she heard nothing of that, her grip tightened and her voice raised.

 

But because God in his great mercies knows that a boy child faces hardships on this earth He intervened and the woman loosened her grip. My fren, I jumped down the stairs, passing the front door and the main gate in a flash. Once I was outside their gate I raced to our home without shoes on my feet in a bid to save myself from the mother of the fine bird.

 

That’s how I lost hope of getting the girl and stopped being the OG in my hood. Real struggles of a boy child.

Life, People and Places, Uncategorized

A Man A Suit and A Policeman

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It was on a Sunday. So I woke up feeling like I needed to change the world and because there is a quote by Mother Teresa that says, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family,” I wore my dapper navy blue suit that never disappoints and brown leather shoes and I step out off to see mama and my toothless sister.

I spent that day in church and most of the afternoon with fam but when the clock hit 4pm I decided to call a few buddies for a drink or two to kill the evening away.

Niggas were broke and so minutes past 4pm we were inebriated in a dingy pub in the NCBD. With 2k in that ka local I swear you’d go home feeling like you own the freaking bar, booze was cheap(er) hence we guzzled every whiskey that we could afford.

At around 10pm phones started ringing, each one of us was needed home by the missus or by family and when it’s your mother or the better half calling you don’t just continue having fun after the 3rd call, you put your shit together or you’ll sleep on the carpet.

So I prowled outside of the noisy pub, characterized by boring music and scar-faced waiters who sat on every niggas lap for 100 bob. My bladder was full and because I was wearing a suit and was tipsy I thought I could conquer the world and do anything I liked.

I, therefore, stride behind a building in a dark street and pull my bolingo out to pee.

 

Chrooorrrroorrroor

 

I continue peeing, not minding the bad example I might set to the kids. But whose kids are awake at that time? I wonder and then continue peeing.

 

Before I finish my business a man walks towards me, I couldn’t turn because I didn’t want him to see my bolingo so I continued blessing the earth. He then placed his hand on my shoulder and bellowed,

 

Umemaliza?”

 

Nini?” I ask.

 

“Kunyora nyuma ya biashara ya wenyewe?”

 

Kunyora? I wonder. Who says Kunyora anymore in Nairobi? That sheng is from Naxvegas, the town where I went to high school.

 

‘This chap must be from those sides,’ I say to myself.

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After finishing my biarasha I shake my bolingo and return it to it’s humble aboard and then I turn to the man holding my shoulder, hoping its one of those guys in town that tell you leta simu yako haraka na wallet so that I could find a reason to throw a jab.

But no,

It’s the freaking police!

 

‘Do you know it is an offense to Pee on the street?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Sawa, leo utalala ndani ndio ujue ni makosa.” He threatens.

 

Damn, I couldn’t go to the cell, I knew these guys (his colleague was a distance further harassing some other poor chap) wanted money or something. Because if that were not the case they would’ve been somewhere else chasing real criminals and enforcing the law like protecting Kamwana, Baba, Chiloba and the likes. But not threatening me for peeing across the street.

 

The police then took his cuffs and tried to handcuff me. I resisted and then went all James Orengo on them.

Folks, whenever you are in trouble always try to sound important and smart otherwise people will shine on you and you’ll end up being a victim of bullies and rogue police men.

There is something magical that comes with wearing a suit, try it sometime you’ll see. The confidence is mindboggling and believability is very high, especially if you can speak English well without the verbal clutter. Now on top of that add a glass of whiskey on the rocks, my fren you’ll kill it.

So in the process of resisting arrest, I started quizzing the police, his colleague was now approaching the commotion in that dark alley.

 

I started quoting the constitution, the rights of Kenyans, shit to do with freedom and finally, I ended my speech by asking for his barge number. Hell, I’m sure he thought Abdi Nassir was my uncle.

He stared at me, looked at me for a moment like a spectacle then giggled. For a moment I thought I had won little did I know he wanted me to let my guard off so that he could grab me and cuff me. In what seemed like Mayweather’s fist speed, he took my right hand and locked that thing on my wrist.

 

Wahh I was so petrified. I have never been in cuffs before. So I pulled the biggest stunt of 2017 that finally gave me my freedom.

Before he could drag me to the GK that was waiting a hundred meters away I had chomoad my phone and made a false call to my ‘big brother’ who apparently is in the army, whining of how my rights had been infringed by two junior cops in a dark alley looking for bribes.

 

That was the end of the struggle.

 

The policeman halted abruptly upon hearing those words. He asked of ‘my brother in the army’ and I played ball, saying he works for the special unit that guards the state house, Matiang’i, Boinnet and shit.

 

Hastily he uncuffed (inf) me and set me free and off I walked away like the man I was. A man A suit and a Bolingo in a dark alley.

Life, Love

WHERE IS MY LOVER

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Lovers. They disgust me, I pity their sorry lives and I abhor everything they do, say or think. Vanity. That’s I what I think when I ponder about their miserable lives. I think of how the guy’s mind is wandering, wondering about that other fine ass that he saw at the office, a fine bird with a glittering nose and soft hair and dull eyes. Shame, I think about how the lady’s soft and easily gullible mind is pondering about the other guy she met in the gym while she was burning calories in her tummy. The guy with the beard, arms and the new Mercedes benz. Damn, these people, I wonder what makes their hearts race.

But why do I feel so bad for lovers, and their unending instagram stories and vacation photos? Because I’m a gringo, a mumu and a lost soul. Just like G.Eazy, I just want to be alone, I neither feel like loving someone or being loved by anyone. When the morning comes, I give an excuse and cut them loose. I want to play play station by myself and drink Gin in my huge glass alone. After that, I want to smoke alone and watch stuff like The six or Designated survivor, anything that reminds me how much I love power.

But I haven’t been this way. There was a time. Once upon a time, when I had the heart of a child. I cried because of love like a 3 months baby with that problem they have in their stomachs. I crossed continents to be with the one I loved. I would kill for that girl; I would have died for her [Insert Drakes’ Controlla] And then shit happened, you know it, it has happened to all of you losers, but you’re still playing ball – choices there, very significant in this life.

Boy, there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for that mummy, but I bet all of you have been once there. Young and stupid and blind like one-day-old puppies. Some of you are still there and you’re all grown now. So where did the rain started beating me and the likes of me who just want to ride solo?

I just want to chase, chase dreams and chase ambitions but I also want to feel love once again. I want to dream at night about her and not about my businesses. I want to feel the thrill again, the rush and the butterflies. I want to be scared to lose her and to treat her like a queen. I want to be free and tell her everything about my flaws, my weaknesses and my vulnerability. I want to live. Where is my lover?

 

People and Places

DEAD AT DAWN

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On a Friday night, he walked into a Movie Shop outside Campus holding one hell of a babe. A slightly taller girl than him with the shape of a Calabash and eyes that pierced directly in your soul. Boys would shy away when she stared but this young man had apparently already won the jackpot. They messed with each other and touched, the girl giggled, her giggles filled the air with romance and that February 14 feeling.

In a jiffy they had already been served, the two love birds bought a few Comedies and intense Drama television series and off they walked away to burn the night away with cold drinks, good TV series, kisses, hugs and what not. The night passed away and what happened happened and what didn’t happen waited for the next day, on Saturday.

Our person of interest was living a lush life, his father who was less proud of him owned a multi – million business in the city and was almost giving up on him. The young man would call home, demanding money to sustain his life which was typified by booze, weed, and women with an ass. His mother was just an angel, you know how mothers are, she was his number one fan despite his wayward lifestyle. She’d cosset him and love him just like Jesus loves the malefactors. He had an elder brother who was smoothly sliding into his father’s shoes, he ran errands for the family and made daddy proud.

So our guy would at times fancy what his life had become and he would go into depression. In his room he would smoke huge rolls of bhang just to chase the haunting thoughts away, he had it all but again he had nothing, he felt like an empty vessel. Poor grades, dysfunctional relationships, unhappy folks and a sad 21 years of his life that symbolized darkness.

That Saturday morning he slid from his bed and walked to the balcony leaving his tall babe in bed. He then made a call to his father, as usual, to send him money for the weekend because he had plans to take the babe out with a few friends to quaff the night away.

‘Hi Papa’

‘Hi Son’

‘So today is my friend’s birthday, I wanna go out’

‘I don’t like it when you’re out there, celebrate the birthday in school instead’

‘But Dad…’

‘I said NO!’

(..his father hanged up)

Another phone call

‘Heeey wodup Kimeli’

(Kimeli was his father’s right hand man in business)

‘Hello Young man, shule iko aje’

‘Shule imekauka, Dad has refused to send me pocket money,’He whined.

‘Haha I know what you want, let me send you kitu kidogo ya Soda.

And the young lad was on his way to an all – white party in the town. After freshening up with his two-night stand girl at around four o’clock in the evening, he called his right-hand man Kibet to pick them up. Kibet had a car, a silver Mark X that roared when he placed his feet on the pedal. The silver baby had a good music system with upgraded woofer and Sony speakers and when he put on the music the world would spin in slow motion. The gang was living a good life. Kibet came with other two young birds and the party was on.

The night dragged itself in a luxurious club in the CBD where the five were having the time of their life. The young bloke took countless shots of Johny Walker and smoked Malboro, he shouted with joy, he was feeling good, but soon he was tired, he wanted to go to bed. After nagging his best friend Kibet for an hour or so the gang left the club minutes past five in the morning.

He sat on the wheel and pushed the ignition button and the baby howled to life, Kendrick Lamar played and that moment he felt like he would live forever. On the highway he switched lanes, loud music continued, they sang along in their drunken enchantment inside that sleek Mark X. There are cars that deserve better, they should be treated like the babies they are and handled with modesty, like this particular Mark X – but the baby was having it rough.

His foot on the pedal he sped, the turbo of the car grumbling furiously, Kibet at the back seat was having fun with the two little birds, the other tall bird had already blacked out on the passenger seat.

Suddenly, he saw what seemed to be the moon itself ahead of him, there was so much light. He couldn’t comprehend what was going on, he was drunk and his judgment was more than impaired. The light increased as they neared it, foot still on the pedal the Mark X was still burning fuel. 300 meters to the light, he realized the light came from headlights of an approaching Lorry. Poor guy, his brains jumped from his hairy head, he was confused and afraid. All he could see now was circles, the world that appeared to be in slow motion was now spinning in circles.

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Pooorrrhhhhh..

The lorry honked. His heart gamboled. His life was rushing too fast towards his demise. He saw it coming and at that moment that could be defined as a split second, he could see the life he had lived in a spectacle, flashing before his eyes. The lorry was now less than ten meters, not knowing what to do, he swerved the car to the opposite direction from the lorry and it toppled, rolling several times before landing in a ditch with a bang.

The whole gang found themselves lying on the ground after the impact, the three ladies were unconscious while the two guys were now sober and alert. The guy lay there on the ground, his heart pumping loudly and his body trembling from the pain that he was feeling. Kibet crawled over to him and touched his hand, they were both trembling, death was here and either one or both of them had to go with it.

‘I’m scared Af,’ He said, blooding oozing from his mouth.

‘Me too bro.’Said Kibet.

A tear rolled down from his left eye, he clutched at Kibet’s hand firmly, fought the good fight as much as he could. It was now six O’clock in the morning and sky was becoming brighter, he looked up and the cloudless sky was opening up, he could see some figures up there, I guess angels.

He didn’t want to go up there, but the pain was agonizing, with a few broken bones and organs bleeding internally he couldn’t bear it anymore. He swallowed painfully and accepted the reality that his time was here and he could not escape it.

At that brief instance, he remembered Shakespeare’s words,

‘All the world is a stage and all men and women are merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.’

He had played his parts, although he was not happy about them and his exit was here. He had to accept reality. The hand that was still holding on Kibet who had already passed out, lost the grip. Up in the sky he could see the angel of death dimly racing to pick his soul, he got so sweaty, a mixture of blood and sweat filled his body. Suddenly he felt so cold and so dull, he could not think of anything now but resting, he was so tired and in pain. As the angel of death stretched his hands to carry his soul he closed his eyes and murmured,

‘Oddi, I come to you.’ Just like a true Viking.

His body became still and the life inside him left him in a ditch beside the road.

His name was Donald.

 

Life, Love

EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORN

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Yvonne. Long hair, long legs and a body of a model. Her face small and pretty, bearing a strong resemblance of Lagertha, you know Ragnar Lothbrok’s wife in that appealing television series. She speaks so well and her laugh will send chills down your ankles, it’s ticklish and damn sexy. She knows how to cook and loves it too. Her brain is sexy too and can hold an intelligent conversation with you all night. She has an ass, a great one and fulfills the fantasy of your mind. You can’t pretend that you’re one of those guys who aren’t moved by huge derriere when you are with her because it is so attention – grabbing.

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But, the fine lady has a downside that send men on their heels. She’s moody and broody all the time. She will not talk to you all day just because she woke up feeling not like it. Sometimes you’re walking with her and everything goes south all of a sudden, dinner dates are cancelled and promises are broken. She often sends your relationship parking and is confused most of the times. She does not know what she wants and when she does she does not know what to do with what she wants when she gets it.

Mike. Chocolate in complexion. Cool, calm and relaxed. Body fit and muscles protruding, ladies love hanging on them like birds perching on a Mugumo tree. He speaks fluently and confidently. With his round deep voice he doesn’t mince his words. At a bar when he’s drunk or drinking he does not say things like, “My car is 3000CC,” or “I just bought a Kashamba in Kiambu near Two rivers Mall.” No, he is smart enough not to be that guy who vaunts his small investments to every goon that comes around. He’s a sober guy and has his things in order and the ladies love an organized man. However, Mike has an addiction. He is a maniac and loves lungula, I mean he can’t go without it which means chances of being satisfied by one woman are very dismal. So he plays them like cricket, bouncing from one girl to running to the other. He texts one for a sleep over while having lunch with another. He has no taste or preference so he’s not choosy, as long as his sexual desires are satisfied. On that aspect, his life is nothing but a walking shadow, he is lost and confused and can never settle down even if he wanted to. Women on realizing that their golden boy is a Casanova flee to save their fragile little hearts.

Danson. Intelligent young man. He was born a scholar. In campus the GPA was one to be emulated. Sporty and fast like a panther. Athletic and with a staggering height. He has a great personality and brings joy to whoever he interacts with. He is smart and knows how to make money fast and so success is just his portion without a doubt. When he puts on his khaki and t – shirt he looks like Vin Diesel and when he puts his suit and tie he resembles Elijah Michaelson. In a nutshell he is the perfect guy for you, the man of your hopeless dreams. Wait until he gets hold of his bottle, he drinks like a teenager and behaves like a first year girl on her first night out. He has no self – control when he’s drunk and cannot be in charge of his whisky – his whisky is in control. He is a drunkard and his partner dreads when the clocks swings 5 in the evening because after work he is usually out there self – destructing. It’s a shame because behind the great guy and great speech is a drunk who wastes most of his savings on alcohol.

Michelle. She is one of those girls you’d take to Mama. Forget her sensuous looks or long dark natural hair, she’s wifely and her manners makes you think of the future. When you’re with her, you don’t picture how lucky you’d be if and when you tasted her forbidden fruit, no, when you’re with her you see the mother of your babies. She loves baking and staying indoors. She hates social media and groupies. She has one friend who is a reflection of her and does not get carried away by worldly pleasures. On Sunday she goes to church with her folks and is an active youth member. Damn, what more could you ask for?

But, Michelle snores at night like a Luhya bull from those Murembe bull fighting games and is very temperamental. Her coolness shoots from zero to 200 in a split second like the BMW X6. She boils with range when angered or cornered and kicks everything on her way. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not violent but just hot tempered. Her composure changes swiftly in times of turmoil and she loses her mind hence making her an angry force to reckon with.

It’s Frank Underwood who said that “There is no solace above or below. Only us. Small, solitary, striving, battling one another.”

And here is me saying that there is no peace left right and center when it comes to relationships. It always ends the same – but we are the captain of our ships, if you do not like a situation change it, if you love her or him make them what you would like them to be because whoever likes the rose, should never fear the thorn – Anne Bronte.

thorn

 

Uncategorized

SONG REVIEW: KENYAN MESSAGE – MUTHONI THE DRUMMER QUEEN

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SONG: KENYAN MESSAGE

ARTIST: MUTHONI THE DRUMMER QUEEN

RELEASE DATE: MARCH 2017

GENRE: HIP – HOP

PRODUCER: GREG “GR!” ESCOFFEY AND JEAN “HOOK” GEISSBUHLER

Kenyan Hip Hop singer and rapper Muthoni the Drummer Queen has once again resurfaced with a one of a kind socio – politically hip hop song called the “Kenyan Message.”

Kenyan message probes on the gnawing issues currently in the country that have been ailing the people over a long period of time which include Corruption, Greedy government officials, Drought, striking doctors and false religious leaders who mislead the people.

In fact, MDQ rapsthat these issues are so rampant that she even ‘wonders why she hasn’t gone under,’ hence paying tribute to “The Message” by DJ Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, a song that was released in 1982.

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This is the first song that Muthoni the Drummer Queen has released in 2017 which therefore means that the other songs in her album that will be released in April 2017 are going to be fire. Other songs by the Hip – Hop rapper include; Nai ni ya who, Feeln it, Kama Kawaida featuring Kagwe Mungai, Mayonde, Fena Gitu among others.

The flow of the song has been perfected and the video is just superb thanks to David Baumann.

If you’re therefore looking for a good song to start your morning, or a good song that speaks of the socio – political issues, or a good song with a great beat that makes you go crazy in your car, the ‘Kenyan Message’ is the song to play. I’d give it 8/10.