Politics of Shame and Our Pride

We are Kenyan not because they line their wallets
with the sweat and tears of the toothless pensioner
But because we know there must be hope for our seed.

We are Kenyan not because they lack direction, inspiration
conviction, strength, courage or moral spine.
But because we know there are better leaders amongst us

We are Kenyan not because they try to divide us
into tribe, class, education or neighbourhood
But because we know we are one

We are Kenyan not because they give themselves
our land, steal our money, kill our people
But because we know they will rot in hell

We are Kenyan because we are pained by them
Silently we bleed for change but fearing those in the trough
will find ways to misdirect our passion, use our pain against us.

We are Kenyan because we have read
Scribes of old warning of the dangers of power and how
History is full of leaders lined up; the lucky ones in hoods
Is this perhaps what they need?

We are Kenyan because our hearts swell with pride
when Kip outruns the pack, Wanjiku takes the prize,
Okello wins the seat or Shah makes a six


I am Kenyan because I see the beauty, wealth of my motherland
And because of this I dare not despair.
Defiantly I look the mongers of war in the eye
Challenging them to lie to me that they too are Kenyan!


Lucas Ndolo

December/January 2009/2010

Joyce Jumps Me

Same afternoon.



I have had lunch and some friends come over to visit. We argue about whether to watch a movie in town (Cameo had some steamy third rate shows running every day ) or go out and play some ball ( these days it would be referred to as "shooting some hoops"). We are gathered in our back yard making quite a bit of a racket.. really just minding our own business when Joyce decides to make an appearance in one of the rooms on the first floor! She slowly unties the lesso shes wearing and bends- disappearing from our view for a few torturous seconds! Thankfully she reappears holding a different lesso; this one a rich blue with bright white flowers. She doesn't knot it at the back of her neck like before but slowly wraps and tucks it into itself at the roof of her breasts.

Although the houses are not close to see that much detail, our collective imagination acts like a magnifying glass and more than makes up for the distance. We are as quiet as dead mice and closer to adolescent heaven than ever before! Those third rate movies could not compare with this.... This was the real thing!



We listen to the music playing in our minds, the occasional moan punctuating the silence. I, like everyone else am transfixed... I know she is playing and toying with us but I cant move. She moves her shoulders back and forth, swaying closer and closer to the window. She then faces us, stretches out her hands and sharply pulls the curtains. Shes gone.


Without exception each one of us is breathing quite sharply now. I am numb in more places than one, my head and other significant part are both throbbing. I must have been holding my breath all this time, starving my brain of oxygen, because I feel extremely lightheaded and dry mouthed. In reality it couldn't have been longer than two or three minutes- but it felt much longer. Thinking back I felt like I'd feel after spending an hour watching a dancer work the pole in an adult club. To each one of us this was a sacred moment. To this day that impression is indelibly burnt to memory.


We start to scheme, our recently broken voices edge us on with 'manly' courage. The plan is very simple really.. two of my friends and I would go and go the house and 'visit'- we were certain (or should I say cocksure) that we would be hushed into the lounge and asked to feel at home and offered something to drink. We were certain that we would then be invited upstairs one at a time. We argued for a while who would go upstairs first... for some reason none of us wanted to take the lead. This was not agreed upon but we did reach an agreement as to who would initiate conversation. We choose Cedric because he has a bigger in body and a hint of a moustache on his lip. We are sure he can easily pass for 18.



Well, the false courage was in place and we start off round the corner, full of anticipation, ready for the kill- like an army marching confidently towards its first battle. We know we were going to be men in a short while- we were about to experience what the bigger boys constantly talked about every day.. getting some!! I am excited at that prospect and am busy searching my memory for the things I have read and seen in magazines. We soldier on and with every step the courage that we were earlier full of, is replaced by an awkward fear... my heart is thumping in my chest so strongly I am frightened of the others hearing it. Picture this: three young boys bouncing (nay - floating), pockets filled with hands in an attempt to disguise their unused tools, purposefully down the road to have their first meeting with destiny.

The gate is ajar and in single file we hesitantly make our way to the front door. We congregate at the steps and before any of us can raise a hand to knock, the door is pulled open and I hear behind me the hasty departure of my partners in crime. With my knees weak and my legs heavy as lead, I stand there and Joyce smiles at me and says... " Ahh! marafiki wako waoga kweli." She speaks in that melodious super sexy coastal Swahili. " Karibu." She says and I still dont have words. She offers me a seat and turns the three-in-one volume up a bit. Josephat Ngige is presenting Sundowner with his usual talented mix of love songs. My heart is beating to the sound of Abbas rendition of..:

" Can you hear the drums Fernando? I remember long ago another starry night like this In the firelight Fernando....."

She zeros in on me and moves in very close. I still haven't spoken a word. I see a strange sparkle in her eyes as she grabs hold of me and attacks my lips with wet kisses. Her hands are all over me and mine are at my side. I don't know what to do I am lost. I'm loving every minute of it; but I'm unsure where to touch and where not to- and how!. She wrestles me down to the carpet and sits on me. I still haven't said a word. My eyes are taking in the sights of the crazed beauty in a lesso- bringing forth curves, tastes, smells, sounds and texture that are exploding my senses. STOP!

Memories.

******I am sure a number of you (read Nick and Co. ) out there expected me pen down much steamier encounters with Joyce. Some will no doubt be disappointed but I choose to leave the rather graphic conclusion to this encounter to your imagination.

Living Next Door to Joyce

Joyce in the A.M

So I am sitting here along the banks of the river Nile. Watching the water flow by, carrying its payload of hyacinth mixed with plastic bottles of water, discarded by some idiot maybe two countries away. Here in Juba the Nile is amazing, at some spots its almost 200 metres in width and sitting under the hundreds of mango trees, the breeze is as refreshing as the breeze at the coast. The temperature, at about 30 degrees, is much cooler than in the town centre. Its four in the afternoon and I have just finished a meeting with a client down the road from the camp that I am staying in. I have just been reading my last post which I did about a year ago. I close my eyes and I can hear an old Commodores song playing from the stereo- " Thanx for the times that you've given me... the memories are all in my mind..."... I doze off and my mind goes back to Joyce.. that perfectly formed Taita princess that I lived next door to; one August many, many, many years ago.

She was 18 and I was 14.
I know you guys reading this can relate to that. In our youth ( at least in mine) there was always that something about older girls... maybe its because as a young boy with hormones playing havoc on you... one was attracted to a (more)mature female. I remember the first girl I kissed was two classes ahead of me- that's another story for another day!

Looking back I now know why my mother took extra effort when interviewing maids and not the gardeners. The older and less attractive, the more qualified they were. I'd always thought that my mother had terrible taste but now I know she was only protecting me from myself.

It didn't take long for things to start happening at our neighbours house. In the morning Joyce would be in the backyard washing clothes... and I would be in our backyard watching her washing clothes. Every time our maid came round - I think her name was Constance-I would pretend to be engrossed in a chemistry text book. At first I think my mother was fooled by this act.. but she began to wonder how I could spend all hours in the same spot reading the same book and then she would call me into the house. Going to the house always took a few minutes longer than usual and I can still hear my mother yelling: " LUKA!!!!" (pronounced with a deep Kikuyu flavour)
The reason for turning the 10 feet into a couple hundred was because of that protrusion just below my waist. I had to give it time to compose itself. Once in the house she would ask me what I was reading and I would reply- chemistry (maybe I should have been reading biology- I could have perhaps landed myself a half decent job) or whatever book I had out there. She would engage me in never ending conversations as only mothers know how to when you are in a hurry. At this point in time my mind would wander over to the backyard and I attempt to extricate myself from mothers' stories. When I finally manage to get away- I run to the backyard and I am there in two seconds flat! But as luck would have it Joyce... ohhhhh beautiful Joyce is done with the washing and I find her hanging the last of the clothes on the line. I watch, mesmerised as a gentle breeze pulls at her 'leso' and I catch a glimpse of the smooth,chocolate milky thighs.

Sadly she's through and starts walking back into the house but she turns and flashes me one of those smiles... you know the type.... the one that says.very softly.... 'soon!'

Next... Joyce and Beat time at 5 Pm

BLUE and His Exploits Along The River Nile

Blue has been working in the land of Kush. He has touched the waters that for years amazed many 'people' (read white people); flowing from South to North - over 4000 miles , through semi-arid land and deserts. The longest river in the world providing a livelihood for millions of people along its banks. The water that baby Moses floated in....

Surrounded by tall, shapely, beautiful ,berry- black (not black berry) girls who dont sweat in the daily 40+ temperatures. They are sooooo elegant- they all posses long necks, small faces and the tiniest of waists. Their teeth are sparkling white and against the dark skin they are simply lovely. In some parts of this hot land, many of them walk around wearing nothing the waist up... it is not an exciting sight but a truly beautiful one...I am surrounded by thousands of Alek Wek look a alikes..... the mkamba in me can only look and....

are my readers still out there?

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.

Irena.

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!!

Regards,

Blue

OLD MAN BLUE BE PISSED!!!

HELLO. IM 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.



Blue

Nicholas

I have thought long and hard about this and I am compelled by your insistence to write about my meeting with Nicholas . Unlike his meeting Guess he did not offer me cubed sugar cane in fact he offered me nothing at all!

Most of you have read what Guess had to say about Nick. I know you are all wondering whether her portrayal of Nick was truthful or just plain flattery. Read on.

Nick agreed to meet me not on neutral territory but in his home area. He must have been scared of meeting far from home and hence chose Wab Hotel in Buru-Buru as the place. This is a quiet estate hotel frequented by gentlemen my age and a little older. In fact at 26 Nick would probably be the youngest male here. He asked me to be there promptly at 7 PM.

I was there at 1800 hrs and I scouted the area for snipers, booby traps and anything that looked remotely out of place. I parked my car in the parking lot of another building and identified a suitable vantage point at the gas station across the street from the Wab Hotel.
At the gas stationed I questioned the attendants and showed them a picture of Nick in his spider mask and Milo in his kid- Ninja- Shaolin- Sumo wrestlers outfit. I felt relieved, as none of the pictures were familiar to them.

I then made my way to the Matatu stop on the main road and engaged a couple of Matatu touts in small talk- keeping my eyes peeled and my back against the wall. I watched the vendors selling fruit and other wares. They were all busy selling their bananas, oranges, mangoes, shelled peas, cut up sukuma wiki, pineapples etc. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed a 20 something year old kijana selling cubed sugar cane. This brought to mind Nicks date with Guess. The young man was dressed in faded blue jeans, a well-worn Michael Jackson T-shirt. His hair was surprisingly neat in dreads. An oversized rock seemed to weigh down his left earlobe. I heard him ask a young lady in sheng- ‘sasa kasupu? niku-undie ya mbao leo?’ He flashed her a smile and I could see his fluoride stained brown teeth. This teeth colouration is common amongst the Kikuyus from Murang’a but I remember reading somewhere, that in some parts of Kieni the fluoride levels are equally high. Was it possible that I had found Nick in his undercover disguise? (I had heard somewhere that young Nick was studying to be dentist- could his earth coloured teeth be his motivation?) I slowly moved away from the toothy sugar cane vendor, keeping him in sight at the same time scanning the numerous faces for Milo or any other assistant/assailant. A Matatu sprayed with all imaginable colours pulled up to the bust stop and a tout yelled out “wewe Kamash, leta ya kumi!!” The wanna-be Rastafarian rushed a plastic bag to the vehicle and I knew he wasn’t Nick.

Having certified the area clear and since I had about 20 minutes before my enemy number one was due, I decide to walk into the hotel and screen the patrons just in case Nick was one step ahead of me and had planted a mole in the bar. This was my first time in the hotel and I was cautious as I entered the main bar. There were groups of elderly men and women engaged in drinking their favourite Kenya Breweries drinks- loudly in a manner that only Kenyans know how to. From the melodious din of the drunkards there was little doubt as to their origin. There was no one under 30 in the bar full of Ndukos and Mutisos. On any other day I could have been at home here. The two television sets were blaring out Mexican soaps- “cuenda ses mia” on KTN and on NTV “secreto di amore.” A number of patrons were eagerly engrossed in the simplistic story lines. I was at loss as to how they could follow both shows at the same time. The bar was filling up with people coming in to wait for the 7 ocklock news- it has never ceases to amaze me how Kenyans will religiously drop everything they are doing to watch the news.

There were a number of unoccupied tables and I mentally selected two that I would lead Nick to. The tables were positioned at the rear in a covered verandah where I could see who was coming into the bar. Satisfied that my mission was successful and that Nick hadn’t pulled any surprises, I exited Wab Hotel. I found a truck parked by the entrance and used for cover as I watched the driveway.

After full 10 minutes beige Toyota Corolla pulls up and parks in a vacant slot opposite the truck I am using for cover. I watch it as the driver turns on the interior light and pulls out what at first looks like a weapon. I realize quickly that’s it one of those Afro combs. He combs up his fro and pats it into place and places a call on his cell phone. A second later my phone vibrates in my coat pocket and I look at the screen. Caller ID indicates SPIDEY. I say hello and he says: “sasa! Uko wapi!” I tell him I am at the entrance of the hotel as I cross the street. He says, “Sawas- I have just arrived give me a sec.”

Dark khakis and a round neck sweater covered the well-built 6ft frame of Nicholas . A light skinned attractive young man with an infectiously shy smile walked up to me. He reminded me of Todd Bridges of the ‘80s sitcom, Different Strokes. He had a firm handshake that was inconsistent with my first impression of a shy young man. As I sized him up I suspected that he must have been a fat little boy in his youth and this weight had now filled into his frame. I looked to see if he was squinting or maybe wearing contacts but found no evidence of that. I was pleasantly surprised.

In my normal manner, I took immediate charge of the meeting and invited him into the Hotel. He seemed to be okay with this and followed me through the maze of tables to the rear of the resident’s bar. I am sure that he felt slightly patronized by me at this point.

We took seats opposite each other at one of the pre-selected tables. I sat with my back against the wall watching the entrance. The last thing I wanted was to put myself in a position where my reaction time to the entry of Milo and Co. would be restricted. I could see Nick studying me with a bemused look on his face. I managed to get the attention of one of the establishment’s garcons and asked Nick what he would like to have. Nick ordered a FANTA- I kid not- a fanta orange! I ordered a cold Tusker Malt.

Our drinks were delivered without much delay and we got talking. I did most of the talking at first as Nick was restless and kept shifting in his seat. I told him of my experiences in the Kenya Army- which seemed to amaze him. He was in utter shock when I told him that I had retired 10 years ago. I studied his features as I told him I had a 21-year-old daughter. I could not find any obvious physical genetic flaws and I actually thought he would not make a half bad son in law. Nick told me about his family- he is a single child (I am sure spoilt rotten by his mother since the age of two to date.) I learnt that Spidey still lives at home and is actually a dentist. He adores his mother, his computer and his job.

After about half an hour Nick begins to feel more at ease and his sense of humour starts to show itself. He laughs a lot, critically analyses every word said and remembers every comment posted on his blog. I had three beers in the hour that we met and he declined another Fanta.

I am not trying to prop him up but this enemy of mine came across as a very nice and intelligent young man. Single ladies out there- I think you will find him good looking and quite a charmer.

If he is willing to learn from this old fart I will seriously consider handing my baton to him.

He is a truly worthy opponent.

BLUE meets NICK

In my minds eye I expected Nick to be a geek. You know- the dense bifocals, zits all over his face, shifty restless eyes and a Jackson 5 Afro.

I expected him to be short, plumb wearing oversized, sagging trousers and carrying a duffel bag filled with an assortment of toys, CDs , laptop spares, palmtop and flash disks.

I expected Nick to be shy, fidgety and two come with a couple of geek friends posing as bodyguards.

I expected him to drive to our meeting place in a dilapidated VW, which he wishes was an antique.

I expected Nick to order for his hot milk and Fanta and pay for it- and then offer me a drink and pay for it too.

Was I disappointed?

Find out SOON!!!

Blue's a-travelling

Across the plains of Ole Ndonyo
Thru the Banana plots of Nyakundi
Near the lake of Omondi
To the home of Chacha Mwita.

Blue is a travelling.


See you all in 2 weeks.

GOD is a Woman!

his post started as a reply to the Tag that I received from Milo. Together with Nick’s post where he mentioned ‘Indigo Children’- it forced me to take a stroll down memory lane. Yesterday I was watching some show on television and a married couple got me thinking of back in the day.



On TV Last Night. ( I don't remember the names of the characters so I have used Jack and Jane Smith)

Jack Smith has been married to Jane for 8 years. One morning Jane wakes up and heads for the bathroom as she has done at certain times of the month over the last 5 years. A few minutes later she lets out a yell from behind the door and Jack comes rushing in.

“Honey!! We did it”… she says, amid an explosion of tears of happiness.
Jack scrutinizes the pregnancy tester in total disbelief and starts jumping up and down, tears streaming down his happy face. “Thank you God. We have waited for sooo long!”

Jack and Jane go back to the bedroom where they call their places of work and both obtain a day off. They call both sets of parents and exclaim to them “ Mom, Dad! We are pregnant!” The folks in turn call their friends and close relatives spreading the word that Jane and Jack were expecting a baby.

Some people try for years to have just one child. Some people don't have to try at all. I have two girls of my own and the question of why I don't want a boy has always annoyed me. It is disturbing that in this day and age some people just dont get it-a child is a child!

The following is a true story:

I worked in the small lazy town of Gilgil for a while in the nineties. The town was forgotten when the new Nakuru- Nairobi road by-passed it. The only real reason anyone had for going to Gilgil was passing through on the way to Nyahururu. If you know Gilgil; then a picture of a small dusty Kenyan town, populated almost entirely by military, police, youth service and their families will come to mind. Perched high on the Kariandus hills; frequent whirlwinds (aptly nicknamed ********in kikuyu- any ideas- anyone?) blow across the whole town carrying papers, plastic bags and the odd branch or two. There is not much vegetation in Gilgil and you can imagine how painful it is to be caught in one of these, especially if you happen to be unlucky enough to come across a dust devil carrying the famed ‘ngoja- kidogo’ branch! ( I learned sometime back that the English name for that shrub is actually- ‘wait a minute bush’- google it if in doubt!)

In this town I had a close friend- he was a couple of years my senior and till today this story still amazes me. My friend Nzomo- not his real name -was a mkamba. He’d just got recently married and was blessed with twins three months after his wedding. The pretty little girls were his pride and joy. After about six months we started noticing that Susan was pregnant again and we jokingly asked Nzomo what was happening. He replied that since God had given him two beautiful girls he wanted a set of boys and he would be done. A couple of months later he informs us that his wife had delivered not twin girls this time, but triplets! All girls. We had a harambee and thought nothing more of it.

The months grind by slowly in small semi-arid towns. When the wind isn’t howling, its hot and the air seems to just hang in the sky suffocating everything- even the animals in its stillness. Absolutely nothing happens in this town and every day is like the other. The swelling of dark clouds over Lake Naivasha and the escarpment bring with them a distant longing for rain or at least a small shower. As soon as they appear ready to release their moisture, they are blown away to somewhere that doesn’t need the rain; and everyone is back to the slow monotonous daily routine.It was a really sad town.

But my friend Nzomo always looked on the bright side of life and as he resumed work after almost two months leave, his face was beaming. He told us that he had consulted Mzee Kioi and other wazees in his rural home of Mwingi. They had given him a powerful dawa and he was sure to father a boy this time round. We were slightly confused by this because we expected him to put a stop to his fathering after 5 children. But his need to have a son was very strong. I, for one, pitied his wife- Susan, but was impressed by her strength and love for her husband. The twins were now going on three and the triplets were nearing their second birthday. They must have been a handful.

Nzomo started buying boys clothes, toys and was always talking about his ‘son’. As the days went by Susan started putting on some weight and sure enough after a few months her pregnancy manifested itself. We held our collective breaths (or so it seemed) hoping that the visit to the dawa- man in Mwingi would bear fruit. Nzomos certainty was contagious and we all started believing in Mzee Kioi. Susans belly appeared smaller than the previous time and she could be seen looking radiant in the market, one kid on her back and the others at home with the house help.

This time we all went to Nakuru Memorial Hospital. Nakuru was the complete opposite of our little town of Gilgil. It was modern- had about six streets, several ‘high rise’ three and four story buildings. If my memory serves me right, I think the highest had a whopping six floors! The Memorial hospital was in Milimani at the base of the Menengai hill. It was off the tree-lined Nakuru Eldoret road on a side road leading to the rear entrance of State House Nakuru. Old colonial government houses surrounded the hospital. The Jacaranda trees carpeted the grass and roads with their lilac-blue trumpet blossoms. It was truly a most beautiful part of the town

We waited with Nzomo at the hospital for some hours but like all men we became restless. We convinced him that we all deserved a drink while waiting so we headed to Stags Head Hotel on the main street of Nakuru. We decided not to go to our normal pub- Gitwamba. This is where we came for our monthly R&R. The girls there all knew our names so it wasn't the ideal place to engage in a celebration. We ordered our tusker exports and premiums (remember them?) and had us a party at Stags Head! We allowed Nzomo to go back to the hospital on condition that he would return as soon as there was news. Nzomo never came back.

We later found out that Susan had delivered a brand new set of triplets-all girls. Our man Nzomo was devastated. 8 children in five and ½ years. None of saw much of Nzomo after that. He led a solitary life and avoided associating with his friends. Susan was shipped off to Mwingi and Nzomo moved to a small flat near the NYS camp. I left the dusty, hot and windy town of Gilgil that year and never really missed it. I lost touch with almost everyone I had known there.

A few years later however, I did hear that they tried one last time for a boy and had a final set of twins.
Two girls.

Wangu of The Mugumo Tree Part II

So promptly at seven ocklock Kinuthia was at the fig tree waiting for Wangu. She didnt keep him waiting for too long- she arrived just as the sun was sinking in the horizon. Kinuthia pushed Wangu against the Mugumo tree and put his hands up her blouse. His hard hands squeezed her breasts as one does when checking the pressure on a bicycle tire. His thumb and forefinger moved to her nipple roughly tweaking it. Wangu doesn’t like the feeling at all and she tries to pry herself away from Kinuthia. Reluctantly he let go of her but held on to her hand and said to her in a raspy voice laden with excitement:
"Riiu tudu uturaga ikinjira jiitiirii ndigutuma nyumanii ni wendo?
Ndaguthaitha tuthiii uhii uhanini na ndigakuhuya ringi. Nitutonye nahau undiikiirie!"
Since you always tell me to wait don’t you think I will burst because of this love(need)?
Lets get into that maize field and get it over with.
Her reply was quick and Kinuthia could not believe his luck.. … “Nandungicunuka! Ni ndiri mundu wa kuheana mahutiini- Nduara handu hangi”
Shame on you! I am not one to just give you in the bushes.. take me somewhere else.
"Nituthii cube yakua uhe- muthee na maitu niimathiiri mahoya": Lets go to my cube you give me- mom and dad have gone for prayers.
“Niui nguendete gukira nguacii cia maitu na meru ma maragua- taahutia wiguii uria ndinawendo.”
You Know I like you more than my mothers sweet potatoes or bananas from Maragua- touch me and feel how hard my love is!
Kinuthia directs her hand to his throbbing anticipation. He remembered the last time had sex- about 6 months ago with Peninah right here under this very tree. He had planted her firmly against the tree and had enjoyed having her legs around his waist. *** details removed by author due to explicit nature*** Peninah would later tell all her friends that all she got from this encounter was mahuti in her hair. But Kinuthia KNEW he had satisfied himself and her too in those action packed 3 minutes. Now he was getting really excited. He grabbed Wangus hand and quickly made his way through the ‘maveve’(maizefield).
He was 28 years old and he had done very well for himself- 5 girls – no simple feat for a young man his age. His pals- Kamau Nduati and Srystone- were so impressed with his exploits that most of them came to him for advice ( of course he always exaggerated and told them he had been with ten girls and his first was when he was 20). Only yesterday Kamau had come to him asking what to do about his problem of immature ejaculation. Kinuthia had explained to him that as long as he was ‘inside’ when this happened then it was allright because this is what makes a girl feel good. “Uguo niguo mendaga” that’s how they like it. He further explained to Kamau that once he becomes more experienced(like himself) he would be able to keep going for upto five minutes. This advice Kamau received with disbelief: “Ndagika 5.. icio ni nyingi muno.. mundu ndagikuraguu anagote muno!!!”
"5 minutes.. That’s Way too long.. one must be really tired after that."

Kinuthias ‘cube’ is about 15 metres from the main house, partly hidden by the huge Mango tree that he had loved to climb as a youngster. When in season, the mangoes fell on his tin roof at times shocking him awake in the middle of the night. The room was not very large but it was comfortable. He had a nice bed and he had taken great care to collect newspapers and magazines pages to cover the walls. On the right side of his bed was a poster of a half naked Japaneese model which he had lovingly cut out of a 1992 calender. He also had several posters from'True Love' and 'Drum' and ‘The Pulse’ magazine, serving as wallpaper. These he was partcularily proud of because the younger girls were interested in Roughstone, Wahu, Nameless, Issa, Kleptomaniacs and other contemporary Kenyan artists. He KNEW he impressed them when he sang along to The ‘Gambler’…. “… You never cound yua mony when u a sitting at the tamble… They will mbe time enough for counding.. when ndeerings ndone.”

In one corner sat a one speaker Sanyo radio cassette and about 10 ‘compacts’. He had the latest of Salim, Man Mike, Queen Jane and several Kamaru oldies. He also had Kenny Rogers and Roger Whittaker and Dolly Parton. He had spent the whole morning tidying his room in anticipation of bringing Wangu here this evening. He had swept his dirt floor clean and had even sprinkled some water over it to give a smooth cemented look.
He pulled Wangu into the cube and placed her on the bed. Kinuthia could smell the arousing smell of Suzanna Pomade from her ‘Curly Kit’. At least she wasn’t a ‘kariko’ like some other girls. He turned to his Sanyo boom box and…….

Forever is here already

Repeat to me my dear how much love you have for me
Tell me again and again why I feel like this for you
I hear you telling me to listen to your heart
Beating so reliably regular strong as my will

Raise this spirit mine from those depths of doubt
and shine your flashlight into the dark chasms
Hold my hand, my love; guide me to a better place
Secure and far from those lying, prying eyes



Waver not for I feel your strength in my weakness
And I will lend you support for your every thought
A helping hand to feel our way in the night
Casting away those against this tender, powerful feeling
Together we must walk this course
Leaning on each other and nudging the other on
Looking back only for memories sake
Swiftly moving onward committed to happiness;bliss

Long has been the path crisscrossing many lives
In search of one that feels like you do or I do
Alone neither you nor I can find what is lost in time
The mating of searching souls now tired wary

I have waited forever for a love so pure so right
Finally my dreams and hopes are fulfilled
Smiles splashing my face feeling knowing
That forever is here already.

NYAKUNDI

The Nyakundis are close in proximity to the lakeside Omondis but they are worlds apart. It has been said that they’re closest in behaviour to Merus than to any other Kenyan tribe. They can be violent stubborn and very difficult to convince but they are generally good-natured bunch.

Most parts of Kisii have rolling hills and the average farm size in there is ¼ of an acre. On this patch of land Nyakundi has divided his portion to accommodate the following: a few bananas, some tea bushes, and some ‘cash crop’ (weed). This ‘cash crop’ is exported to Nairobi and Kisumu and then to other parts of the Nation. They were the first to raise the potency of their ‘cash crop’ by soaking it first in Changáa then drying it before smoking it. If you have ever been on the Nairobi-Kericho road and are overtaken by a Keroka Express bus with a name like ‘Buffalo Soldier’ being driven at 176 km/hr- you know the driver is definitely rocking to ‘Bob Maroa and the Wailers.’

Nyakundis love their nighttime activity and I am well informed by members of this said community that the ‘cash crop’ makes them very horny. A true Nyakundi may only have one wife but he will have a number of mistresses. It is also common knowledge that Nyakundi men are well endowed in the area between the stomach and thighs. Rumour has it that the use of the ‘cash crop’ is not limited to the men-the women too enjoy the effects. Hence there is an explosion of little Moraas and Nyakundis in the villages. Kisii are many and they know it- during the last elections their political guru- Hon. Simeon Nyachae headed a party called Ford People with clarion call of: “ Watu… Watu wengi… Watu wengi sana!!!” Walking through the streets of Kisii town on any day as like walking in downtown Nairobi during rush hour. The population density is among the highest in Kenya.

Nyakundi is a hard worker- as long as you don’t mind the acrid aroma of ‘cash crop’ coming from the shamba and you are prepared to provide double portions for lunch- he can plough a couple of acres single handed at almost the same speed as a tractor.He is more than worth his pay. Nyakundis working in central province cannot understand how Kikuyus have Githeri for lunch as this is what they have for breakfast washed down with a couple of mugs of brown millet porridge.

Kenyan blue-collar employers are a bit wary when employing Nyakundis- they are well versed in the art of forgery and certificates are carefully scrutinised. One ‘A” level certificate or BA degree could be held by at least four people. Only recently the whole compliment of Kisii members of parliament was up in arms about the ‘wrong’ portrayal of their tribesmen as cheats in the local high school examinations. Three schools in Kisii had their results cancelled due to cheating.

Favourite drink: Not particular but would rather smoke a certain plant.
Favourite Songs- Sweety Banana- Nyambane
Food: Bananas & more bananas-but once the munchies hit anything is good.
Notable Kisiis: Nyambane, Didge and Tichi Nyasani
Characteristics: Hard-headed; fighting spirit; Kisiis love to hang around each other.

Most common Joke:
All sixth form results at St Barnabas High School,Nyamira were cancelled because the Kenya National Examination Council wondered how all four streams could have the same wrong answers in the English and Maths.
The headmaster and PTA annoyed by these allegations confronted the KNEC and explained that since the same teacher taught all the children then all the right answers and all the wrong answers should be the same.

Next… Luyhas…Warias…Embians…Kalenjins…Amerucans(Merus)…and Kyuks in that order.

OMONDI

"That my BMW"

If you don’t have a friend from the “Lakeside” you are missing out on a serious part of what makes Kenya Kenya!
The Omondis of Kenya are the most versatile of our tribes. They pride themselves in being the hardest working and most learned in Kenya. They can be found in large numbers in all social groupings. From the manual labourers in the quarries of Njiru, to university halls the world over; Omondis are found everywhere. My good friend Perminas Valentine Mak’Odhiambo tells me Luos go to school to become learned while the rest of us simply receive an education.

Issues of class and social position are very important amongst the Omondis- they will rarely cross barriers. The common questions to ascertain where one belongs are: “where did you go to school or who was your teacher and who are classmates now.” For illustration purposes I will use Okelloh a middle class 'jaduong' living in Nairobi. Any reference to his possesions must be preceeded with "That my" or That "his". Possesion is everything.

Saturday afternoon Washington Okello will drive "his" sleek BMW 520i convertible out of his parking slot at the Hilton (he never parks anywhere else) and pass through the drycleaners at the Hotel Intercontinental to drop off laundry as well as collect the next weeks suits. He will then drive to Buru Buru to change into his weekend wear-neatly pressed cotton pants and an expensive silk shirt and a suede jacket to match his Italian suede shoes (pronounced sous- the ‘h’ is silent). He adds the final touches- a splash of very expensive cologne and a heavy gold chain and bracelet. Okello looks round his house and smiles at what he sees. A sparsely yet expensively furnished sitting room (he prefers to call it lounge) seats from Macrays(where the expatriates and people who have taste and money buy furniture) had set him back a clean 250,000/= and the Large screen Sony television with a matching Sony home theatre System another 350,000/=.
Okello calls out to his Domestic technologist( houseboy): “Einstein, Did I not ask you to make sua you don’t touch "that my" music systeeem? I am sua because last night Akinyi and I were listening to Nacion FM- now I see it is on Ramogi! Let me warn you Odouri , next time I will send you straight to Siaya. Do you understand?”
Okello gets into "his" BMW takes his lap of honour around the estate smiling at all the nice Nyakos (young ladies) along the way. He slows down as he sees Akinyi flagging him down at the bus stop. “ Hhe , Yawa why are you not answering my calls today?” she asks as she slides into the brown leather interior of "his" BMW.
“Which line were you calling me on my sosio(social) line or my oficio(official) one?” He then proceeds to explain that his official line is never answered after 1200 hrs GMT.
First stop is the bar between Jeans and Johns in Nairobi West to meet The MD of a certain company, the financial Director or Group Editor of a local daily. They will entertain themselves here then move to Impala Hotel in parklands to listen to Lingala or to the Bridge on Jogoo road for some Benga.

I will say this: If any of our tribes know how to live life to its fullest- flashiest cars most expensive clothes, partake in the best drinks- Omondis take the cake. In my next life I want to be born an Omondi.


Favourite drink: Anything but beer- preferably Chivas or Remy for the middle and upper class- other spirits are referred to as industrial alcohol.

Favourite Songs- “I am not sober”- (This is an actual song and one of the verses talks about having Guiness for power with Michael Powers- an excellent song)

Food: Kuon(ugali) and Samak (ngege)

Notable Luos: too many to name on this page

Characteristics: Flamboyant, big spenders, High rollers, well educated

Lhuo Joke:

Patrick a recently promoted Kikuyu went to have a drink with a friend who had just completed his PHD. Upon sitting down the two gentlemen he didn’t know began introducing themselves:

Man#1: “I am Professor James Oburo Mak’Onyango, lecturer at Nairobi University. I was schooled in the U.K and America among other places. Some of my classmates are Professors John Montiago Odhiambo, Senior Vice President ADB and Dr. Innocent Uche of the United Nations. Nice to meet you.”

Man#2: “My name is Dr. Evanson Ouko Ochieng. I spesiolize (specialise) in the treatment of Cardio-Vascular diseases. I went to school with Dr Gikonyo Dr Ambrose Rotich and Proffesor Nyasani. I currently live in Muthaiga. And who are you young man?”

Patrick: “My name is Captain Kamau sir, pleasure to meet you.”

Man#1: Ahhhh.. Captain – very nice… Which Airline BA, Air France, KLM? Those are the ones I fly with.

Patrick: “Actually sir, I am a Captain in the Kenya Army.”

Man#2 (almost choking on his Chivas): Kenya Army? What happonned (happened)- was there a problem with school fisss(fees)?


Taking votes on the next tribe to feature here

BELOVED KENYA'S TRIBES - MUTISO

Would Kenya be Kenya without our tribes?
This next series should not be viewed as tribal but rather as posts that talk about tribes with a touch of humour. I personally do not subscribe to the school of thought that advances the theory that we must rid ourselves of tribal labels. This is because to me they are just that- labels- nothing more. Tribes are our identity- none superior to the other but needing each other. Have you not heard it said how Kenyans are warm, happy and fun people? I agree! I say let us acknowledge and appreciate our differences, be happy, laugh together and build a better country.

MUTISO
A tribe of happy people who come from the Eastern parts of Kenya. They have a musical language and are dancers by nature. They have been noted to be acrobatic and can dance to the simple beat of a drum and a whistle. They make excellent house help and passable cooks. A visit to the Parklands area- inhabited by the local Asian community will bear witness to this. Mutiso is that ever loyal gardener who has been in the family since Grudeep ( Pradeeps father) was born.

Kamba men are famed to be notoriously good lovers and their sexual appetite is said to be unmatched within the Kenyan communities. He calls the neighbours housemaid “ngelemende”- (sweet) and they can be heard giggling behind the bananas at night. ( Parents of girls who employ Mutisos are encouraged to take them to boarding school when they turn 14).
Mutiso is also found in the nations disciplined forces. He is known to be a trustworthy, handy, polite and unquestioning soldier/warden/policeman. This is because he made a name for himself as an efficient gun bearer for the settlers as they made their way into the interior of Kenya. In the days of the great World Wars Mutiso fought gallantly in Burma, Ethiopia and North Africa.
Although he can go for months before going to his rural home,he will diligently send monthly payments to Nduku and his 8 children. She visits the city once every 2 months and the sounds that filter from his quarters are to say the least pornographic. He is however a good saver and at Christmas each year he can afford to buy a plot in Masii or Masaku ( they are not expensive there- 20,000/= will buy you a half acre or a whole one in some places. Clad in a yellow suit, red shirt and brown tie; easily setting himself apart from other Kenyans;he arrives at Masaku Airport- near the famous Athusi Day and Night Club-to board a matatu home. When he arrives at the ‘kambi’ he is received with awe by his fellow classmates who are farmers and village idlers mostly high on Kuona Mbee(that Methane based brew). Children at the ‘kambi’ announce his arrival with shouts of; ‘ Mutiso uya mujeci niavika!!’ (Mutiso the soldier has arrived) or Mutiso wa musongo ena suti nzeo ya led!! ( Mutiso wa muzungu has a nice red suit!) He then borrows Muokis ‘Kisululu’ and pedals 6 kilometres down the Mua ‘ills’.

Favourite drink: Fanda Horange

Food: Muthokoi, Maluu (potatoes) and kofisi (cabbage)

Notable Kaos: Late Mulu Mutisya and Parliament Clown Kalembe Ndile


Characteristics: Loyalty,lovers, colour concious

Most common Joke:
Mutiso decides to buy a coloured TV after saving for a couple of years. He goes to a store and asks the attendant:
“Ndo u sell TVs?”
Attendant: “yes sir we do.”
Mutiso: “ah nthey in colour?”
Attendant: “Yes.”
Mutiso : “Can Hi ave a gleen one please?”

NEXT WEEK- From the Lakeside- OMONDI

CAPTIONS...HEEEE..HEEEE

I love captions. I have collected a few pictures from google images and added captions to them. Its amazing what different people see when they see the same pictures. Lets all humour each other with these. Please include your captions in your comments. Label them Picture#1- Picture#6.

Have a laugh.

Blue


I swear sweetheart theres more in the bank!




Ladies you can only have one of us for xmas... Please choose.





Nick looks so funny chest thumping! heeee heeee heee.






See! It isnt hard we can do it too!





Up yours! If your prick wasnt this big i'd hit you over the head with it!








How to make sure a bloke stops to help you change a flat tyre.

Reason Why Not To Educate your Kids In Machakos

A friend of mine who thinks that Kao's and their pronounciations are hilarious sent me this phonetic alphabet from Machakos. My Kikuyu half is amused and still laughing.....
(Remember to pronounce it as if your name was Nduku or Mutiso.)

A: for Ause or Handerwear
B :for Mbloke or Mbullshit
C :for Ceenake
D :for Ndie or Ndabrew
E :for Heat
F :for feheyko or fagina
G :for guice
H :for Hindia or opeless
I :for iyena or iccups
J :for jeespot
K :for Kino
L :for Lofermboy
M: for Mbomb Mbast or eballsment
N: for nglleen
O: for ot Like “hot”
P: for ply
Q: for curio
R: for lombert
S for: saver
T for: Tlue lies
U for:you
V for: fegetamble
W for: “U” “U”
X for :Hexcept
Y for :why
Z for: Zelo