Way Back - The first time. Joyce.

Let me tell you a story.

A long, long time ago when what you call soul today was new music. Way before the carnivore was constructed and Nairobi Dam was a dam which had a terrific nightspot called ‘The Sailing Club’. When apartment blocks in Nairobi were only three stories high and our roads were made of tar not potholes. When one had no doubts about professing to be Kenyan.

It was a time when there were no lines to get Visas and going abroad was really a matter of whether one could afford it or not. When one wasn’t met with stares of suspicion at every airport you entered. It was a time when even Nigerians were welcome almost everywhere. When you never heard a Kenyan Airways stewardess had been nabbed with drugs.

A time when our athletes were kings of track. When Moroccans as well as Ethiopians, were known for exploits other than beating Kenyans in the long distance races.

A time when condoms were only sold in selected chemists and not in every kiosk and finding them in your partners handbag or wallet made you think of promiscuity rather than safety. Back when many a GP made his living from treating diseases that were common and treatable. When the only hawkers in Nairobi were on the other side of Tom Mboya and they attracted your attention with a high pitched “ cpsuuuuuuu” (capsules) to treat that stubborn discomfort.

Puberty came in a rush for me. Zits on the forehead, hair growing in warm places and a peculiar enlargement of my left breast (This had me worried that I wasn't normal for a while). Feeling randy in any old place...etc. These were just the physical changes but they were nothing compared to what was going on in my head. The girl next door who my boys and I made fun of daily started looking attractive for some reason. I started having dreams that I couldn’t have enough of every single night. I fell in love with my class teacher who was 38. I could have sworn that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever set my eyes on. One by one I had a crush on each female teacher in the school.Night after night I would have the same dream! The dreams were becoming more real as the days went by. A friend gave me a dog eared, very well worn copy of a Harold Robbins book and I read the book quickly once and reread some sections of some chapters 10 to 20 times. These parts were what my dreams were made of.

This state of confusion went on for a while; a couple of months at least. The girl next doors name was Jane ( No- not Alice!) and she had two younger sisters. They were from Taveta and they all had beautiful skin- silky, tight and unblemished. Her mother employed a girl to help her round the house- she must have been 17 or 18 and to me and the neighbourhood boys- she was a goddess. We would spend hours peeping through a hole in the fence into Mama Janes backyard to catch a glimpse of her wrapped in a lesso...what heaven!! Her name was JOYCE.

August holidays that year were the turning point in my life. Mama Jane and the entire family went to Taveta. They left JOYCE behind to take care of the house for 2 weeks.

Before she left, Mama Jane came home and asked my mother to keep an eye on JOYCE and the house.

I was only 14 and………


Anger Management and My Place of Peace

In the lull of my fake battles
Tears of laughter changing into tears shame
As I see bloggers clawing at each other
Throwing care into the eye of storm

Her space violated
Her words knotted in hurt; sweet words into poison
Emotionally emptying – openly?
Anger!!!!!! Seething anger

Pain and misery rolled into a post
To orchestrate such fury would be hard

His respect in question
His words defiantly confident; perceptive words into daggers
Systematically querying – smugly?
Denial!!!! Composed denial

Shifting the onus of proof into a post
To admit to such a charge would be folly

Sides are chosen by the spectators

She said- being one
He said -being the other
The fence is wide for many are astride as
Others jump off to either side

Been away a while, a short while
To find my place of peace
Strewn with anger and bloated with rage
Clueless as to how it all began

All I want is my place of peace.


Nick... the Wannabe Dental Fighter

So, Nick is spoiling for a fight. He feels, in his small childish way, that he can put up a worthwhile fight with this experienced son of ‘muthokoi’. Someone should spoonfeed Nick with a few facts of life. The most important ones being :

Battles are not won through trumpet blowing and excessive noise pollution.

Allegiances are forged not forced.

Patience not ‘dental patients’ is a virtue.

In order for him to win the war he needs to understand the difference between tactics and tact. Attack and a thumb tack. Defence as opposed to ‘da-fence’.

Let me fire the first salvo.

Nick meets Wangu at a bar.

They get along so well that they decide to go to her place.

A few drinks later, Nick takes off his shirt and then washes his hands.

He then takes of his trousers and washes his hands again.

Wangu has been watching him and says, "You must be a dentist."

Nick, surprised, says "Yes....how did you figure that out?"

"Easy," she replied, "you keep washing your hands."

One thing led to another and they make love.

After they are done, Wangu says, "You must be a good dentist."

Nick, now with a boosted ego says, "Sure, I'm a good dentist, How did you figure that out?"

" I Didn't feel a thing!"


Taking a Deep Breath and Focusing…..

I have been away from blogsphere for 8 months now. I have honestly missed this world where, with the exception of a few knuckle-heads(Nick&Co.), most of the contributors are level headed, well read, well spoken and others truly beautiful (Mshairi, Guess, Uaridi, Farmgal, Kipepeo, MsK, Gishungwa… and all the other fine ladies)

Nick had you all thinking that I stopped posting because of him. The ‘Kijana’ has a serious problem in over rating his effects on people. I recently expressed to him the need to spend less time in front of the mirror combing his afro and contemplating the degree of curve on his nose- but to concentrate on his career and find a partner that he can share his life with. I told him that his continued infatuation with Spiderman and Michael Jackson are not doing much for his image. At this point in time, I would find it very difficult to leave my nephews alone with Nick!

There is a good reason as to why I took an 8 months break.


In October last year I visited Irena’s site. She was the first to do audio posts and was blown away. I decided right then that I wanted to do something different- an audio post. I consulted with my nemesis- none other than NICK and my brother Wanduma. Wanduma being a fan of Rocketboom said that we should use that template but gear it for a Kenyan audience. Nick was excited and encouraged me. He has been a source of constant inspiration and a good ambassador for this cause.

My brother and I brought together three other investors and bought production and editing equipment. We employed a cameraman an editor a presenter and research assistant. We started collecting material in November and presented our demo to a team of bloggers that were in Kenya in December. The bloggers were extremely helpful and their input allowed us to tweak our pieces and production direction. We set up our website in January this year and have been on line since. Even though Nick is unable to view anything we put up ( He lacks broadband like the majority of us here in Kenya, he still goes out of his way to direct people to the site.

The site has proved successful beyond my wildest dreams and we are now moving into phase II. In this phase we are seeking out advertisers and partners to ensure the long term survival of the site. Our aim is to provide Kenyans everywhere with a glimpse of home- what’s happening who’s doing what etc.

I did not intend for this post to be a promotion for the site but it has turned out to be exactly that.

If you haven’t already, please visit www.kenyamoto.com

P.S I am really back!!





I last posted on this blog on October 5th 2005.

Why am I back?

Nick organised a bloggers meet up and I did not get an invite!

I have made the decision to come back and make his every day a nightmare.

@Nick... " chunga marima"

Stay tuned.