Let's begin with a prayer next time

''You have to start with a prayer Serge, the Lords' prayer'' I keep repeating to myself as I  run to plug my phone in a charger before i lose this flow. It's a short distance from the rooftop to the living room where the charger is plugged in but it feels like quite a distance, in flow time, it's quite a distance. The flow waits for no man, just like time. I can see and feel the phone vibrating on my phone when that evil son of a b**** bad timing m*********r (am guessing i can cuss here considering if your child can read this and understand it, it means he or she has heard it from you, you bad parents,) low battery devil. In the middle of my flow you're just going to dump me? There is no difference between you.....and he did it again, and again, stupid m****f......there is no difference between you, the evil stepmother, yes, the Cinderella stepmother evil and....and yes, anything and everything you can find, whether it's insults, insults or insults. Throw them at that low battery pop up. Irritating little c***!!


I plug my phone to the charger before that evil low battery pop up totally messes up this entire flow. I sit on the floor, far right corner at Jay Jays' place and before opening my pad, I see this little girl crying on TV. Initially, what caught my attention was her voice, mellow, love seeking, lost voice. I look up at the TV and start watching this little girls' story looking to finding herself, literally trying to figure out whose blood she's got. Everyone keeps telling her, ''This is your mother, this is not your mother and so on, so on, so forth'' (now say it like Tony Soprano, or imagine Tony Soprano saying it) ''this is your mooother' this is not your mother, this is not your faaather'' (see, see, it made you smile right? right? From this point forward, this story although written in English, it has an Italian accent, thus the Latin font.

(Mental note:
........yo' yo' serge'
......ha
....don't forget, Italian font..
......cool, thanks champ)

Yes people, written notes are better than mental notes. 

The story, in an Italian accent, this girl is real sad, she only wants to know who smiles the most watching her grow. From falling off the swings, off bicycles, on tables and chairs (not you intoxicated gang.... Biko likes to call us gang, somebody was complaining about it in his house, yeah this blog is my house, my glass house and it breaks easy so don't throw stones, throw them at Biko's house his glass is harder to break, direction to Biko's house ...BIKOZULU .....). As I was saying, not falling on chair's and tables either because you are watching that girl rather than the said furniture, yes you virgins do that a lot, (there are virgins here rrrriight???) Or under the influence of strongly intoxicating liquids, ''curse of the working class'' they call it, number one believer of the above thrown around saying.

Let me explain this to you, on a personal level and see if we relate. I started playing with fiery drinks sometime back, quite a while too, somewhere about high school between second and third year, and I think I liked these fiery drinks, I think. Polo, had some K.C, and although i knew how hard this shit was from that little incident at grandmas' a while back (the whole operation Kibuku story in Karegi in Uranus: Retracing, scroll down when you are done here and check out that story). I knew this shit was hard and I had sworn before my grandmother and God....hehehe, chekeni tu, you don't want to swear before my grandmother, i have seen what she has done to her goats, the fear in their eyes is evident whenever they hear her voice from a mile away. I'll make a point of telling you about her, best grandmother ever. Where were we? Oh yeah, if you swear not to touch this, "I will never put my hands on that", you are always curious if the taste ever changed since you swore, the same thing with most men. Take the way they like electronics (men I mean) almost the same way they do their froth, once you are shocked the first time round, about five years or there rounds (not exactly 5 years of age, but not less than 5 either) playing with your aunties car battery she used  to use while watching her color TV. Real colour TV, not those great walls y'all had and 
some hawkers sold you a yellow bag and pulled that ''kiini macho'' move....ablah kadablah, whoooaaa, colour TV pap........, nah, nah, (shaking my finger) nah, a real colour TV. She didn't know how attentive we were in that science class when the teacher was explaining how stainless steel conduct electricity, she used to hide the connecting cables, my aunt that is.


This operation was not to be taken lightly, operation ''KUNA NURU GIZANI''. We had being taking notes, where does this wire go, where can we get this and that, and more notes, discuss them, collect the weaponry, and on, you know, break this bitch down you know.


Come Saturday, Operation ''KUNA NURU GIZANI'' launching in 5...4....3...


Hold it right there, why did we choose Saturday as the launch date? Is that what you asked? Okay people, let me answer this young ladys' question real quick and then we'll finish up in a few.

You see,
......''whats' your name miss?''
... . ''Laura''
..... ''You see Laura, my aunt was a church woman, still is, she works for God all the time, it's work and church, church and work all day every day. Saturday ''church this'', Sunday ''visiting so and so after Church'', Monday after work ''something about a committee about something about...... in church''. I do feel for my uncle Mwangi sometimes. You see, my uncle loooooves his Citizen lager, he loves her deep i tell you. I remember this one time when he had to give her up, my aunt had converted him, but believe you me preachers......... (reminds me of those christian union guys back in high school, waking you up at midnight to preach for you, you know how many times i got saved? The trick is, getting saved immediately he shows up, then he'll just pray and leave, you can always say you never really got saved since you were asleep thus you got sleep saved, that don't really count, (scratching my balls))....... Preachers, the froth is very, very convincing, and she fights dirty too.

By the way, you are still reading this in an Italian accent, you know Tony Soprano kind of accent, you know, "aaaahh, forget about it" (fagetaabourit).

So my uncle went to church, my aunt dragged him he claims, (not that i don't believe him and all) but his citizen was not going down without a fight. Everywhere he looked, she was there, eeeevverywhere he turned, citizen was there smiling at him, in posters, promotions and these promotions were becoming more and more frequent, and then, here comes the kicker.......

Ci-ti-zen (banging your feet)
Ci-ti-zen (men upping and leaving)
Ci-ti-zen (men walking to their local)

Y'all remember that sound, sing along if you please. My uncle, now arching his back forward to see the advertisement better, to see if he recognized anyone......, nah, nah not in person, the way you'd be rolling with someone and ''......hehehehe Pato, jicheki.....'', if you come across some fat guy in the streets, or '.....Jr jicheki......'', when you see some skinny black guy like Tergat. It was the same way my uncle watched that citizen ad. He could see Mr. Kipande cracking a joke of how he whipped innocent Sergents ass in that afternoons art class (to this day my story sticks, I had made that collage, pimped it all weekend, working night and day, and then, Sunday night, the devil came calling. Out of nowhere, thin air productions right there, an angel appears and literally crashed the devil so bad to this day, the devil cant touch me

.......(humming)
Can't touch this 
Can't touch this (now doing the dance)
Can't touch this (robotic dance).........

The devil can't touch me. When i realized how grateful i was, i looked around the room looking for something worth the angels fete, the one thing i loved the most in that tiny room i shared with my sister; was that collage. Mr. Kipande aka ''Kigo'' didn't quite buy that but you gotta admit, the story was well thought out, if it were someone else, they would probably have bought it)

Now, when my uncle Mwangi watched that ad, he saw Mr. Kipande and his stale jokes, Mr. Gikonyo pretending to be cool, Mr. Gichungi and his i own that bar attitude, reflections of all his mutual lovers of the froth. Eventually he gave up the fight and his darling citizen welcomed him back like the rich man did his prodigal son, with love.


Now came Saturday, Auntie Eunice has a church thing and his husband has ''some errands'' to run, you know he can't jeopardize his mission by proclaiming his thirst level."

"Anymore questions, mmhh? Laura??" 

Operation ''KUNA NURU GIZANI'':

For the plugs, we decided a hanger would work just fine, can't really remember whose idea it was but the most likely culprit would be Kamande, John Kamande, may The Lord rest his soul in eternal peace. I still don't understand why i have to be the one who makes mistakes so that others can learn. Okay class, listen up:  What not do when trying to power your TV using the car battery without the connecting cables. DO NOT use a hanger, nor any other metal that conducts electricity and place it on both terminals, again I tell you, DO NOT. Your ass will be trembling for at least a half hour regardless if it's 1.00 o'clock in mid January, that's the kind of shock that you'll be served.


The point here, first time you are shocked, it's frightening, you here the voices screaming louder, ''drop, the hanger, drop the hanger'', but you still won't, you hold it for a couple more seconds because for some reason i believe your subconcsience needs a thrill too. Same with our other ills, the first time you tried this or that, you never really knew what you were getting yourself in to, and if the thrill is serene, you keep going back for more shocks, pretending to fix the electronics all the time. Alcohol kinda feels the same, cigarettes too.


Back in High School and Polo got himself some Kenya Cane. I had swore to never touch that filthy evil drink before God and my grandmother, but if I didn't act like I liked it, I might not hang out with the cool crew, bad, bad, mistake. Am not saying that alcohol is bad for you, no, I actually encourage those who do partake it legally or illegally, to drink the most that they can and recruit more followers. However, I know y'all don't take me seriously but here goes, the liver is not fully grown until one is past 21 years of age, it's like trying to mince meat using a sticky machine, tiring. That's how your liver felt when you attacked it at the tender age of 14, crashed so young. Let those teetotallers live a sober 21 years then recruit them, let's grow an army of healthy drunkards. I knew I shouldn't start drinking at that age because my folks say so, but i also needed to meet some cool kids.

Anyway, Polo reminded me why i was curious about this particular drink. I wasn't really on earth after imbibing this liquid bliss, but still i was, you know, in no man's land, somewhere between two worlds, loud vs quite, sometimes slipping towards the loud world but eventually, quiet wins. 

I, like most of you I believe succumbed to the pressure from your peers and joined the let's drown our souls one beer at a time gang -Getting used to using this word-. Without an income source, we were dependent only on pocket money, a couple hundreds, or a grand on a good day to last you a whole one and a half months. Considering that we were allowed to go wherever we wanted every Saturday as long as you were back to school by 5:30 pm, ''outings'' we called them. This coupled with school trips, both official and unofficial, this wallet was not smiling at you, whatever was in it was not enough to finance your new found vice. First lesson, you get drunk faster when you drink alone, but you drink for longer and more alcohol when you drink as a group. This means if you chuck a sok each, or 50 bob each, this culminated into a mini party, our poison was on the low budget area codes. Good class that was (University of Keroro), if you didn't take notes, you can always have mine.


You clear high school, and things get even worse, without pocket money, you have zero, zit, nada, zero source of income. You try out some shoddy jobs like collecting trash and cleaning the estate, for a small fee (big, big, BIGUP to ''Ngara youth'' -Augustine Owino Oyalo,Swagga Maine,Frederic 'obi' Mtale, yours truly Sergent Karegi and the Yakut brothers - way to go men), you try your hand as a holiday classes tutor (had one pupil, I let the kid play computer games and he snitched on me, like he doesn't understand the meaning of a cool teacher), and some computer jobs here and there (by the way, Justo na Paul hawakunilipa kumake ile logo). You do get by, indulge in some cheap keg, some napoleon, Kane extra, among some cheap drinks, but you do get by.

Then opportunity knocks, and when you answer, employment awaits. After all those hours you've read, went to the library and read, they decided to offer you some peanuts, lack of experience they quote, but since you had never handled your own money you gladly accept the offer. Come month end, regardless of how thin your wallet is, you have to prove that you are actually employed, not one of the guy who dress up to go and chill at Jeevanjee gardens for most of the day. The more money you make, the higher the degree of proof needed, beyond reasonable doubt evidence. Your wallet is your lawyer and his job is to convince this jury of peers, erase all doubt that you are actually employed.

And that is the story behind the saying, ''the curse of the working class''.

Anyway, the story of this young gal (hey.....hey, the girl at the top of the page.....yeah, yeah that one.......yeah) all she wants to know is who her real parents are. Even before I lifted my eyes to put a face to that little sad voice, lost with little hope of being found, i could feel her pain. It was sad, i felt bad for that little girl crying herself to sleep, feeling insecure around family, she moved me, she would move you too. And it got me thinking. Our souls are like that little girl, searching for self out there, sometimes within yourself. We do not know who to follow, to trust with our fragile little hearts, who to take in this journey. We are lost within ourselves, like that little girl our souls are searching for their way home too.

Anyway, before all the distractions, the battery low devil, the little girl, mixed flows in my head, today's post was supposed to be about my relationship with God, as our father and we his children. About times he deems okay to just let us be kids and when he decides parents need their own parent time too, how I believe or how I think he runs this world. The idea was to say the lords prayer, and then breakdown my God to y'all. Anyhooo.... It didn't come to pass, at least not today, I hope to do that real soon. Until then, this is dedicated to the few who unintentionally forgot how to pray:

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

thy will be done,

in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive them that trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation;

but deliver us from evil.

[For thine is the kingdom,

the power, and the glory,

for ever and ever.]

Amen.

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Halleluuuuuuuuuuuujaaaaaah

That was my heart singing throwing my hands in the air as every part of me joined in and screamed louder. Whatever was happening to me could not be described, not a word in the current oxford dictionary can describe it although astounding, rapturous, or maybe euphoric comes close. It all started with a couple of vodka shots earlier. Alone at the counter, I normally prefer it with some slices of lemon although some days like today, neat works for me. In a good way it burns, and most parts of me go ballistic including the big toe, ooohh vodka, how sweet thy taste. I gotta say, for god so loved the world that he gave us his only begotten son who turned water into wine. How I wish he knew something about the vodka then. I’ll admit that I was a little disappointed when the second coming of JC was postponed for the umpteenth time, all the water I had packed will now go to waste.
 

Looking around me, it seems am not the only one who is feeling the vibe of the clear fluid. There is this chic on the floor clad in a black dress and spotting one of those extra huge handbags commonly referred to as ‘vitz packing zone’. She’s clearly in the zone, her face, her dance moves, the smile, the unmistakable smile which is a resultant of the best man made bliss, am clearly home here. A little sweat dripping, it’s arousing, satisfying. She looks, at me and we’re nsync. We are thinking along the same lines, she licks her lips, throws her hair back and smiles. She walks over to the counter, “double shot of vodka please”. She looks at me flashes a smile and starts walking away. I couldn’t just let my soul mate walk away from me, not today, not after Mary Jane told me that she’s around the corner.

We didn’t have definite plans, but vodka is extremely spontaneous. We want to watch the stars, the new moon, we can’t see it from here, maybe at the beach the outline will be clearer. Vodka stays close by and Mary Jane is a pretty awesome guide as we kick our shoes and play with the water. Roll in the sand naked, her body, so many curves and I want to know them all, I can never have enough of this fine body. Her lips, chocolate they taste. Her breasts rise, her breath is faster; her legs around my back and our bodies are carelessly free. None of us knows why we are feeling this good; it’s too good to be true. Maybe it’s the vodka or it’s us or a fraction of each poured in a glass, shaken together, and served with a slice of lemon to come up with a concoction none of us has ever tasted.

Its morning now, and after last night, I don’t ever wanna go back to the real world. I want to stay here, raw food, and sex in the beach, eat berries in the morning, fish for lunch and vodka for dinner. We’ll wake up with a big fat smile in the morning, smoke weed all day and night, siesta in the afternoons, and we’ll just chill. I want to wake up every day and sing

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Halleluuuuuuuuuuuujaaaaaah

I want to grow dreadlocks, and she can play with them when we’re making love. I will learn to fish and she’ll learn to grill on open fire. I’ll write her poetry at the beach and read them to her in bed. We’ll live in a tree house, with a small garden where we’ll grow the herbs that we need. Live like a Sherman, and make babies. Teach them to play mini rugby at the beach, fishing, to live happy without the pressures of money but with pleasures of nature.


Just a minute, gotta press the snooze button and get back to my dream, HOLY FUCK!!! Am dreaming!!

Gotta go, Mary Jane is in session!!

Am the one

Before me there was many
After me there will be none
Am the one 

That's Jay'z flow in "Guilty Until Proven Innocent", and maybe a life of a stranger I’ll one day call me, my friend or someone I know or not. Like Barrack Obama, the first black us president, Osama bin laden, the first universal fear of all Americans and other white people. Come to think of it.....aaaaaahh forget it.... Off firsts and onlys





(...Once the sun goes down
Summer love *2
aint always gonna be around
aint always gonna be around
aint always gonna be
So I write our days down
Because summer love
aint always gonna be around
aint always gonna be around
aint always gonna beas the sun goes down
....)

That's summer love by Denique, I love that song probably coz I live summer all year...hehehehe, I know you're the jealous type... ,yes all summer year everyday, lovely, just lovely. Anyway, "am the one" moments, are in the lines of the first ever woman, Lillith even though Eve took all the credit, but not to worry coz even that telephone guy took some other guys’ moment too (heard he was French too). The first man Adam, The first black man to win a major golf trophy Tiger Woods, Stone Cold Steve Austin, first universally loved superstar, Shawn Michaels had a few haters(even Indians closed shop when Stone Cold took over the ring). These are all "am the one" moments that Jay-Z was talking about but my aim ain't that high.

Am pretty sure that by now 20 s'thing years down the line that I've lived, I've had a few "am the one" moments on someone, moments that even though I don't know of their existence, most of them at least, someone else does. I am okay with impressing one person at a time than the whole world at once. I think of it this way, if I walked in Lionel Messis' shoes, rather played in them, during that precise moment when he picked that ball and the whole of Manchester united players were moving to that new Party Rock Anthem shuffle, and swayed that ball to a rising world in respect to the best footballer in the world, you would make them weep. Cry like their mothers when they first heard them cry or saw them smile for the first time kind. But if you could make one persons world rise in such kind of awe, you would be the most fulfilled man in the world. For firstborn sons, the first day your father saw his first born son and his world was reset. From the adjacent local den imbibing some illegal brew, staggering to settle the maternity bill and looked at your sorry but beautiful ass and for the first time in his adult life, stood straight, sobered up and honestly smiled. The day that he took a u-turn and walked with you to that huge house in Muthaiga. You have an ''am the one'' moment. For those who didn't get that lucky and their fathers tried the u-turn and staggered to a totally different path I do apologize but if those guys can aim lower than Jay-Z, we can beat them by going a step lower.

We've had a couple of flings and one somehow special thing that girls like to give l-words a lot, ''lusty dress'' they say in their minds, coz when they say lovely dress, in their heads they are screaming, ''god, i would sooooo love Sergent to tear this dress off of me'' I see it in all of the smiles, tongue biting, lip and finger licking little looks when they admire that dress, and ''lusty dress it is''. They say they have ever fallen in love. If you were that one man who walked and made that woman's mouth taste like bile, eyes rolling throwing up.......just kidding.......you made a young maiden of amazingly smooth skin and soft lips hug her pillow at night dreaming of nature recreating with all inputs supplied by yours truly, biting an apple from your mouth all ripe, almost as ripe as her breasts, hair dripping as she rises from the water, she takes you in every of her happy places. She wakes up with a smile every morning as you are the first thing she sees when the rays hit the walls and draw an image of you in her room. That is an 'am the one' of the moment. Whatever happened when you finally opened your mouth and crashed her dreams, you had a moment which is your own and yours alone and no one will ever take that away from you. Someone may come along and try to take it away by finally realizing her dreams, but you were the reason she had those dreams, you gave her the standard that she'll measure all other men who will come after you.

These are big moments for people but none of us know if we've had such moments, no one has a clue. If someone has ever made you feel like if God could grant you one wish, it would be to live this moment for life kind of moment, you could never find the words to explain it to them. If someone makes you feel like you are the most important person in the world for the first time in your life, that feeling sets a bar, and only one person can give you that feeling again, or maybe top it, a soul mate. It's a balance thing my research shows, equal of pros and cons. For soul mates, it's always 10 cons to 10 pros, 10 of the things you love the most about a person and 10 of the things you hate the most about them. When you hit it off whatever hits home first that’s what you'll always see and if pros win, you'll love her with all her flaws (they'll show up coz you stuck around to find out) but if the cons hits home first, you will never stand the site of her and you will never see all the beauty that is her (you never stuck around). For soul mates, it's never a thin line; it's an all out hate or deep into the cracks kind of love. Most of us compromise coz a 10 is rare, and in 10, only 2 accounts for beauty , so when I call you a 1.8, it means you are a nine. My scale is something like this

Beauty                                                  2

Elegance                                               1

Educated                                              1

Likes my friends                                   1 (especially Jnr, he's fragile)

Loves kids                                            1

Cooks well                                           1

Can dance                                            1

Can sing                                               1

Loves weed                                         1 

That list is from the most to the least important. I know at times my priorities do change but if in this lifetime, I will meet such a woman who has these qualities, her flaws will go unnoticed. I guess that's why we're politely advised that we should avoid meeting such people, as my friend Obiefuna* puts it ''atakunyia kwa meza na utapanguza''. Am hoping she won't get to doing that. If you have ever made a man feel this way, any man,  you are a woman blessed with an "am the one moment". Congratulations.

I do have a couple of things I hate the most about a woman, but you know me, I’d rather focus on the positive. It is common for me to dream of a beautiful woman in a nurses uniform singing in the kitchen, hips swaying to sounds of John Legend from her ipod, lighting a leaf after a good meal watching discovery channel since the kids are crashing at Jnrs’ place. I don’t know if it’s in Gods plans for me to meet such a being, but if I ever do, I hope it’s close to the beach. If I never do, I’ll compromise my list and go for a 9, and this time I don’t mean a 1.8, but a 9 on my list. However, the 9, which this time means a 1.8, would highly be appreciated.

I don't know if I have had such a moment but I do hope that before I kick the jug (we live in towns, people don't have buckets. I don't have a jug either so for me it's the neighbors jug when the day comes. At least he'll say he ever did something for Me.), I want to have given someone that feeling. I'll settle for an honest smile, goose bumps, or a simple swing of the hip to attract yours truly.

Goodnight ya'll

By the way Obiefuna* is Mutale’s nickname. The star was only meant to arouse you curiosity.

Something else, I have a friend who loves her Batman costumes and loves Robin too.