Shoutings and scribblings

I haven't watched the people in the boxes for a while now. I love these people because they are as honest as they come, or maybe it's because we measure honesty depending on how well it makes us feel about ourselves. If I compliment someone on how good they are at what they do best, they cannot stop with the giggling, the teeth display and all that because at that particular point you want that feeling to last for a lifetime and a few generations down some centuries lifetimes.

I gotta explain myself before i break down a couple more mothers down. I hadn't really talked to my girl M. J in a while, about 41 till today, okay she called last week. I mean it was outside and cold, no background music (we doing hip hop today. I think the situation dictates, it's lost music, you lose your way if you live the hip hop music way. Maybe the cars are good, the big houses in MTV cribs, ranches, the blings on their teeth, caviar meals, and all that partying rich is good, but it don't beat beaches. Anyway, cool natural reggae is more suitable but lost music we shall) which means it was going to be short lived. The point, last week was more of a phone call so the time period remains. Fuck, explaining a point tends to lose the point but heck it's done its done. I haven't seen My girl Mary Jane in a couple of days and we finally had a chance to ourselves, hottest chick in creation, being in all of heavens with beauty unmatched, and her smile the rainbows envy. Mary Jane came home,, i gotta walk with you and walk with her side by side, and she does have surprise pulls.

Now, we were some where between , aaaahh, yeah, somewhere between, aaahh F*#* I lost it again DAMN!! Yeah, yeah, honesty level. The point where your first reaction to a comment gives you a chance to live a perfect virtue.

Before i go on, I'll have to let you know that i put my cigarette on the ashtray to show you how serious I am about this relationship with y'all. I love you guys very much, I know you are not many. I know that because most of you are my friends. You see my friends are hot bloods, their blood rushes all the time and sometimes a mini rush is over run when a trailer arrives. (Mary Jane makes me write in parables, ''the god in me she calls it''). Anyway, they are easily distracted and I know its hard to attract their attention for longer than a couple of minutes, no pun intended. They rarely read my blog, because it needs a cool feel. I know about 5 to 10 people read my blog. Am not complaining, I actually love a small crowd (these I have to shout out to,Nyleen Shiku,Sarah Maranga, and Caine Jr have followed my scribbling for a while now, since my fb notes. It may not meaning anything to y'all but it means something to me. Am not the crowd type, I wouldn't handle it very well, but everyone needs a fan and these I believe bought the underground mix tapes). Anyway, I've decided since I have come to learn a small crowd is an honest crowd no more fronting from me.

Where were we again, we swayed too far in the ocean and the winds are changing.......lights a cigarette......adjusts the pillow......pauses, thinking......cigarette on the ashtray.

We judge the level honesty depending on how it makes you feel

Just talked to the boys by the ocean,Feddy Elvis Muigua, Were Amos.,Tichapower Mwalim andLawrence Kamau Njoki. Boys be living good.Andy Ochieng got his firstborn daughter, proud of that motherfucker, we had one hell of a time in Lamu.

How honesty is judged. When you compliment some body, before the brain registers you can't be that hot, your first thought is what makes or breaks the honesty. When you tell me, ''Mwai Kibaki.........'' my first thought will be, ''hehehehe, let's hear this lie.....''

I know by now you already know that I've lost the flow and am actually scrambling for crawlings. I should probably say goodnight to y'all.

Before i go, to all the little girls inside all those beautiful big girls, it's okay to come out once in a while, we love your smile the best

~ Sergent Karegi

If this makes you feel like you should enroll in to Mary Jane therapy session, you probably should.

~ Mary Jane.

If you think Mary Jane is a whore and has fucked every one including the men of God (Moses in The Bible was an all time low), a younger, sexier and cooler sister has opened an office in your neighborhood.

~Betty Brown.

Goodnight y'all and God bless

Just so you know this story was written in three parts. Initially, a minute before MJ dimmed the lights, we were thinking about a post about mistakes am supposed, to finish, a post on my journey from Lamu and Irene creating quite a show en route...and a few stories I should work on.

When I chilled to start the editing, the honesty path came calling, which invited another flow, followed by other flow until at some point I got lost in the chaos. When all the voices in my head start screaming to attract attention because their flow sounds better, it is hard to manage a flow at a time. Each voice throws a tantrum whenever they feel ignored. You therefore have to keep taking notes from them as you walk along.

''just you know that none of you reminded to say this is the fourth part'' Serge

''yes serge'' all voices together

Anyway, when you have conflicting voices, they sometime scrum for attention. This is how a free thinker works, he doesn't suppress any of his voices. The doubts, the strengths, the needs, the pain, the anger, the passion, the need to believe in people or in God, to be free you have to let these voices roar to keep your life from being captive. You have to balance them to keep your sanity, if you let your anger roll louder than your peace, you become an animal and nobody likes to be associated with animals but if you let your peace shout at a pitch louder than your passion, people will walk over you. There is a voice to control another voice.

Shit, I already said goodnight, we'll find time and correct my lack of consistence and inability to complete a story. We will also discuss my beginnings after the end, where I end a story, like am doing now. And your tolerance to such behavior, like you are tolerating right now. You're probably thinking of a better name for these post.

When you are doing that, am going to bed.

Goodnight, for the last time. Not as in last, last (the way a Kenyan girl would say it ''not last, as in last last''~in a sharp soprano.

Anyway goodnight, for the last time, but not last as in last last.

Note to Self

This is something I felt like I needed to inform those comic authors before my ramblings begin. Whenever I see call outs in the lines of figure II, I immediately assume that the subject is thinking and if the callout is as in figure I, the conclusion which I assume is universal is someone is actually talking. If you therefore use Figure II to indicate that someone is making an actual conversation, I am forced to believe that the person listening to this conversation has supernatural abilities enabling him or her to read peoples’ minds. It could also mean that the subject making this conversation has lost his mind and is thinking out loud (no relation to the tagline above).





Note to self:




Don't rush in to things, or leave something halfway to get to doing something else because you will probably end up doing two shoddy jobs. If you were halfway through your joint and your dad calls, don't pick up the phone, because he will definitely feel something is up, very high up there regardless of how hard you fight you aren't touching the ground. Let the phone ring and call the old guy after a safe landing.

One thing at a time people. If you want to really know your woman, just watch her, don't dart your eyes everywhere, watch your woman. You will notice trends, she loves cats, she can't stand dogs, she loves all things yellow, she loves kids, and she cooks best when she's sad or she's had a bad day, trends. If she's plastic, she won't last a week without you noticing she checks out other men a lot ~hoe, she loves your money - gold digger, and all those irritable little things she does, funny people she ''went to college with'', and so forth and so forth.

I'll be honest hear and tell all the women the truth, you are beautiful creatures. You were Gods masterpiece, beautiful, beautiful creation you are. When you smile at me and I smile back, that’s a sign of approval and believe you me we will smile back a lot especially if you are a beautiful woman, even those not too beautiful because even Mars did not make all of us on Sunday. Now women, walk to town, the closest town to you, and just walk smiling at strangers and see how many smile back, 7/10 is the least acceptable score if you are planning to brag about it. Women are rated with that first smile. You might be prettier than her but she took your man, she smiles better and I know men love happy women.

Now past the smile, you notice the things that her eyes lingers on a little longer, teddy bears, flowers, sundresses, beads, books, babies. The things she talks about, how her best friends name varies a little too often, the people she talks about. You study her movements, how random or routine are they? If men chose to study one woman at a time instead of trying to balance 3 to 4 girls that they try juggling, we will love our women better. She doesn't have to tell you that you are making her sad by your bad habits, coming home drunk smelling like freaking brewery the night she chose to change the shits. As a man, it is your job to make sure that no matter how bad her day was you won't let her go to bed angry. When women say they need security, it's not physical or financial; these are substitutes for their most pressing need, of protecting their dreams. When you were a little boy, or girl, if you had a bad dream you ran to your mum and dad, at least that is how it's supposed to be in an ideal world. A man who can give a woman that kind of protection, a man wherever her path leads her, she will always remember you if you ever took different paths. If she never finds that kind of protection again, she will try to substitute it with financial or physical protection.

At these points of my thoughts, I do try to unravel a little mystery. The basic need, how do we phrase this?.....''The thing you need protected from the most is a threat to your dreams'' I wonder what do you dream about? As a woman, basically if you breathe, you can't honestly say that pain being inflicted on you is part of your dreams......hehehehe, it's the effect of all these 'cuondos sias mias' they would literally die if they ever miss a single frame...... Hehehe, another thought real quick, is there any other kind of dying? - Ooooh, hypothetically...... They have a thing about a damsel in distress been carried into the sunset by a knight in shining armor kind of script. Problem is, living your dreams is not for everyone, and if you are waiting for a prince charming to come and save you from your bad marriage, bad news, not everyone lives their dreams. You can choose to wait for him to swing by when you are half dead in hospital after the thrashing he handed your sorry ass last night.......DAMN!! This is a very imaginative script; the prince charming is a doctor, now I get it. The women who take their thrashing dream that they we'll get married to a wife beater who will one day thrash her sooooo well for her to wink at death, and his prince charming will come in a lab coat, I wish all dreams would come true when I see the pain of those trying to live their dreams whether as gangsters reformed, reformed drug addicts, national heroes for blowing the whistle on corruption in governments, Goldenberg and Angloleasing whistleblowers, anyone seen them lately.

Dreams are called for a reason people, there is real life and there is dream land. The ratio of success in the pursuit of dreams is still very low, so low that the government had to keep it under the wraps. Some guy wants to be a gangster until he's 18 and then drop an album right after coming out of jail, problem is of all 1.62 million people had that dream. The 14.5 pc that tried to live it only a few 50 cents' Akons' managed to live it. That's a very small success rate, and it is therefore ill advised to follow your dreams. I know I wouldn't dare live my dreams, they are full of action, and I hurt myself a lot. Too many near death experiences have occurred in my dreams in the pursuit of fame, as a super hero, I can at least say am bullet proof in that armor, but in the dreams where am saving a damsel in distress, the pain that I endure, the graphics, the background music, with my abs jumping off helicopters, swimming across fighting with sharks --I loved this dream-- .........on second thought, I should really start living my dreams.

Anyway, let’s finish this line of thought, and then clear with its source and finish up with the initial thought.

We all have dreams. Some are sweet flowery, poetic kind, others are violent, others extremely gothic, but dreams. The universe has to balance the dreams and life. If we were allowed to see what is hidden behind the curtain of dreams we would live in a very chaotic world.

The second thought, protection of dreams. There is a quote that is thrown around, ''don't go to bed angry'' if you are a man who doesn't let her woman go to bed angry is the kind of man our women are looking for. These men are however very few, am not even sure if am one of them. After a long day and a fight with your boss, you want your man to just sit there and listen to you whine -this definitely a dream too.

I must confess that women are difficult to study because all this information is seriously crashing. I was sure I had figured out this is what women want thing but DAMN!! Back to studying the trees.

-Insert- I do have other lesser graphical dreams, with nature, waterfalls and naked Puerto Rico women, yes I dream big. I guess they kind off even out because they range on the extremes, pain and pleasure even out.

The initial thought. Watching one woman at a time. If we want to know women I should study one at a time, her ill habits to her beautiful finishing. It's all about watching one woman at a time, and look for the ill habits before her beautiful finishing sweep your ass all the way to the alter blind.

PS: This post is categorized under Figure I. Since am not the kind to question my sanity, I can confidently say that y'all got super powers and can read my mind.

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.

Something, Something ..... Somewhere

Coconut doing his thing

Am at Jay Jay's place, it's a couple minutes after noon and if I got this kinda flow, Coconut is in the hohouhouuuse, you know we gon hurt some treeees (you gotta hear this in person to really get the picture, with all indications. Its part of an acting class I attended since I was little, they call it watching television. I don't even know why we send kids to school, let them watch television. I am a great lawyer after watching all episodes of Boston legal and a whole lot of The Practice. I received my doctorate after watching all seasons of ER, doctors, House and a whole lot of hospital drama. Am pretty sure after watching super sport for a couple of years, my foot balling skills have greatly improved. Am still working on my golf stroke but am not too bad with the oval ball, I prefer the scrum half title.) Coconut is one cool dude, one of the coolest dudes I know. He loves the ocean more than anything else in the world, maybe only rivaled by his Mary Jane sessions, maybe it’s a tie but that is the only life he knows. He can’t last a month without seeing the ocean; he says it would make him sick. It’s understandable considering how in my short stay in this place, am actually dreading leaving this place; the ocean is beautiful, even when it’s angry it twinkles. Sunsets and sunrises are beautiful with the ocean as a background, even better if you are sailing towards one.

Dj feddy in the house

Back to the main story, at Jay Jays' place with Jay Jay, Coconut, Feddy, I like this kid, yeah I said it. Feddy is a spoilled lil kid. Just playing with ya'll, he's a pretty awesome dude, coolest Dj I’ve ever being friends with, he's definitely up there (he's the only Dj am friends with hihihihihi, but don't tell him that he doesn't know. That doesn’t mean he’s not good, he’s great on the decks but his crowd kinda lets him down. With the music collection he has and the mad skill, all he needs is a crowd that knows good music and he’s good to go). He's like a chic magnet; he just draws them to him. I tried to study him, his walk, the way he talks to them, if he holds their  hands or plays with their hair, or he rolls his eyes different. But naah, this guy was way too simple, he's got to have something that most men don't have, and all chics, most chics love, or like a lot, whichever word they use. Now, whenever you walk with the guy, you notice that almost all the women know the guys name. being a dj means his name is thrown around in a lot of conversations, topped with his other job at the cyber café cum mobile repair shop, he’s bound to be well known. This however doesn’t explain the giggles, or the throwing back the hair thing that these chics do or the effortless way they talk to him. I guess his availability has something to do with it, I mean you’ll call him at 3:00 in the morning and he will pick up and talk to them, the guy is always on the phone with this or that girl.

 .........(the flow kind a split a little, my home boy Kisanya just called, he's nursing a hangover right now. You see, the dude been around since sometime around September last year, and kinda landed on the wrong side of the ocean, unluckily. The place does try coz they have candle lit drinks unwillingly, KPLC don't like them much, some mmmhh……….., honestly nothing is good on the other side of the island except maybe the bartender doesn’t hurt their pockets as much as he does us on the fun side, not that we are complaining, we are on the fun side. So anyway, last night went different, the spontaneity alone got the guy hi already, significant because at that particular moment when Matata insisted that he must board the boat, the spontaneity alone took him a cool 4 steps ahead of everyone. Let me explain the steps thing, okay, I have to because we keep telling people how many steps ahead of them we are and all but we don’t really know the genesis of this saying, it all started in a pub. The first guy was an hour ahead of everyone, a couple drinks ahead too. When his friends showed up, the whole trying to catch up thing was in play but the guy who came in first could walk for quite a distance compared with his buddies. It’s a really long story, anyway where were we, managing excitement. I think if you are overly excited, the first thing you should learn is to manage the tongue, better yet, glue the lips for a couple of minutes. The need to impress and a loose of tongue –not loose in the wrong kinda way- don't go hand in hand. You might say too much, or say all the wrong things, that wouldn't happen if all you did was smile and nod. It gives you time to absorb the excitement, and then calmly relate to whoever is closest to you. My homeboy needs that, no pun intended. If you’re hanging out with a different kind of crowd, you might pull it off, but it’s hot versus cool situation. Hot is a good image, so is cool, but these crowds although they normally don’t crash, they don’t roll either. The hot bloods party loud and hard, the cool kind like chilled out, laid back parties. Hot bloods are terrible with excitement management, believe me I know, I’ve been hot but once you cross to the cool side, it’s a whole different bliss. My boy is a hot blood surrounded by the cool crowd, although a few more hot bloods were in the house, they were past the excitement level. He had his first sailing experience since he came to Lamu, and the excitement was written all over his face. He had quite a night although he retired a little earlier than most of us, but he definitely had the best night of his life, his words) 

PAUSE: Bulls eye just caught my eye; apparently, Ksh. 3,322,942 is what The Right Honorable Prime Minister of the Republic of Kenya Raila Amollo Odinga remitted to the taxman’s kitty. The Vice president flashed his bill of a cool FOUR million but Najib Balala just can’t afford to pay such staggering amounts. Am not sure he fully understands what he meant by screaming he has to steal to pay taxes. Some other guy just uttered about 12 of some of the most incomprehensive words known to man. This learned fella is giving the big words king PLO Lumumba a run for his money with words like, obnoxious, belligerent and cantankerous ......blah blah blah, but that cantankerous word, I could swear he chose it on the spot...even the flow kinda showed..... nananana, nananana, nanana -he looks up, I guess coz he knew he had to make people Google the word and see what he means. The words before and after this new enormous word he was about to create, were ruggedly said, you couldn't really be sure how the word would be spelt out, blurred if it were visual. On reaching his big word, CANTANKEROUS, he had to be clear to everyone, he had to look up and say it at a slower pace, make sure that everyone in the world is curious about the word. Linguists, these guys amaze me, if they decide to study a language, they turn out to be actual dictionaries, I guess this is because people tend to be a little easier with their mother tongue or Swahili, Sheng rather if one was raised in a township which means sheng ya hiyo mtaa. Now, when studying a foreign language, every new word one hears has to be investigated and tested a few times in sentence to test if it feels right. This dude had learnt this secret the same way I and everyone else did, listening to the sounds and throwing the word around in spaces to see if it feels right in one, something like, let's try the bar 

He passed his bar examination

Am going to the bar

We will bar kids younger than...

''Bar, fits in three spaces, creating three different scenarios, legal situation scenario, extremely awesome scenario, and a sad situation scenario. That means it's a good word, twistable too in tenses too 

I gotta pause again, apparently some movie am watching,(someone changed the channel, I think its MM2, nayway) some dude was going to give his virgin daughter to some other dude coz he scored a winning goal in a competition somewhere in the world, almost as stupid as icing your self for some foreign team. For you to understand how stupidly this guy reacts, ''really?”, with like twinkly eyes, blushy, woman kind of thing and the all universal belief, he's either gay, or the worst kind of an actor, actors created on a Monday morning coz even the big guy loves his wine, how else do you think JC learnt the trick? Definitely not his mother coz a mother that the big guy chooses to plant his seed has to be extremely pure. Caesars' standards are high but these are a one to the world kind, the universe the whole entirety. She wouldn't have an idea of how to turn water into wine, this was the big guys’ doing, like the holy herb, at least he left the herb on earth for us to experience a lil bit of heaven every once in a while, that coupled with fountains of wine, now if that ain't heaven, I don’t know what is. Your view of heaven must be different from mine coz I know , ya’ll know I'll be praising the big guy, he says to Christians, with 72 virgins (just imagine the havoc in that house, 72 women craving for attention) as he whispered to Mohammed, reincarnation at a higher level, as he told most Eastern religions, and New Age spirituality teachings. Anyway, he whispers these things to different people; everyone has some time allocated by the big guy for a one on one. Sometimes if he only has one message for all, he just places it in the notice board for everyone to see, unluckily it's at the bottom of the leaf and most people are not as close to Mary Jane as the chosen few (22.5 million daily therapy attendants, she's good!!). We hear God's voice, all of us do but we don’t always get a clear signal, *bila rasha rasha*. Anyway, some guys thought they were special; they made loads of people believe that they have the clearest signal, special kind of channel for the best and the worst news. We get the supersport 3, MTV, discovery channel, cartoon network, all those other channels but he's the only one with CNN. Since no one else has CNN, nobody else but them knows the going ons of heaven, the CNN programming. They saw how the world will end, but they all get it wrong, recently they have been doing that a lot, the guys in the Bible, the Quran, the ........., and those other books gave it quite a vivid view when they drew the picture.... 

Anyway, the latter created religions, Paul decided Christianity it is, Moses thought Judaism has some swag in it, Muhammad was like, Islam does sound
pure, and so on. But the guys watching that CNN channel lately a really in that high shit, how do they get their calculation wrong all the time. Owuor almost had it with the earthquake coz s'thing shook...nah, nah, that was my cousin Patrick taking a dump, he got it wrong with the earthquake, that Naivasha dude with that Naivasha nuclear story, the so many times these guys have predicted the end of the world, the channel must be flawed........("no, no, no it's coz they have being airing features lately and the memo was an internal thing so earthlings didn't get it", "ooohh someone should alert these guys")..... it’s bad for me especially when it comes to my vices. I had packed, everything was parked, I knew exactly what to park in anticipation to the end of this move. The closer the day came, I had collected water, a lot of water to ensure that wherever they took me I had something for it. If they threw me in hell, the fire goes, the Sergent is in the house and he ain’t burning. With what JC pulled in that wedding, heaven will be beautiful. If Jesus could turn water into wine, and he was only 33 years old, what would his old man who created all the wind from his breath, light and dark with a word, a woman with his hands, yes with his hands on a Sunday afternoon. He created all these beauty with breathes, words and hands, if his son could turn water into wine at such a tender age, what could the big guy accomplish with water? Water I had packed, a lot of water I had packed just for me to wake up in my bed the next day, fully fucking DRESSED!!! (You don't want to be a naked ghost now do you?)I was mad as hell, at first it was God, I kept screaming out for him to come talk to me, he was ignoring me a lot lately. How long has it been? 24 seconds and he doesn’t even try to sshhh me, you know when you are bugging him and he’s listening to a little girl’s prayer. I learn’t a while back that the heaven’s communication is something like, hundreds of channels depending on whichever channel your  religion transmits in, we got the Christian channel, Islam channel, Gothic channels, atheists channel, and a whole lot of channels, and everyone is trying to get through to request something. It’s noisy up there, and the guy is sometimes rattled and just shuts down all the channels, all of them except for the children’s channel. Prayers by small children are honest, sweet, requests with so much belief it makes anyone smile, whichever religion the child professes, her prayers are simple, a good friend to play with, a good meal, some simple toys, something that they need. Not what all the other channels demand, higher salaries, some drunk is praying for some answers in the classroom, a gambler demanding for more money to gamble, demanding things that they don’t need, they don’t even keep their appointments in months, or at least send a thank you note to yours truly.  When it gets too noisy, Big Guy switches off all the other channels, and listens to the children’s channel, it soothes him. Anyway, I was bugging him at that particular moment, after bugging for close to 4 minutes, he eventually shooed me, and pointed to the notice board, apparently that’s what all the

created with God's hands

channels were screaming “what the heaven was happening?”. Anyway, a lot of people had packed ready for the ride but he had tried to tell us nothing was happening. He gave you a week’s weather forecast, including two days after the 22nd date of May 2011, he had that on the notice board too, people haven’t been listening to him (or reading the notice board), you guys packed and these guys misquoted when translating God’s language after a little too much wine. Story short, I realized that I was mad at the wrong person, that douche bag should be punched in the face. I was packed for heaven because I believe that if Jesus could turn water into wine, the least that God could do is turn water into vodka, ya dig!! Anyway, guys got it wrong, the day passed, and the channels are still wrecking havoc.   

What were we talking about again? Am at Jay Jays’ place, with her small
brother Feddy and Coconut. Her kids Ray and Roy are around too, and Joyce’s kid Jeff too. We all love her [place coz she loves to baby everyone, she cooks nice, watches us when we are almost totally fucked and knows when you need to hit the bed. She reminds me of my big sister, Euna, don’t do this, sit over there, don’t do that, you smoke too much of this Coconut shit, don’t pour another drink, go home and sleep. It sounds like she kills the fun but that is not even remotely true. Her house has a party mood at all times, the cool party kind where we chill, everyone sitting on the floor pouring our vodka, chewing our *khat *and smoking our stuff. She knows when to let you party and when to let you sleep even if you don’t know your own limits, she knows. And she knows better than to let you drink with an empty stomach.

I know this has been a long ride and I do apologize for not completing any of my stories. However, I do hope that you had as an awesome ride as I did. Remind me, we need to talk about Sunsets, I promised to write someone something about a sunset.

Busy day that was

I had an extremely busy day today, depending on your definition of busy and your proximity to the beach, it’s highly unlikely that the definitions will come anywhere too close. I woke up at around 0630 hours and as a normal human being in the 21^st century I have to check my facebook page. You got to understand this generation is not like our folks’, we don’t watch the news, but we have to know what is going on around the world. Facebook comes in handy as the most reliable source of day to day happenings in the world, considering twitter is limited when it comes to the maximum words one can use. I can’t really say am addicted to facebook but am sure my definition of addiction is again a little different too. I prefer to consider myself very tolerant of a lot of things and people too, I hate to break hearts and promises made either by me or people in the M.O.D.’s (They call them the Merchant’s of Death but I don’t really like to view them in that kind of light).

Busy day as I was saying, at work at around 0832 hours. My boss had a meeting with some partners which was supposed to last the whole day and with his assistant out of town for a couple days and the procurement officer out of the office too, I was the only one in the office who got a lil power. That reminds me, we do have an Inspector, huh, people do forget fast considering he’s being gone for less than a weak. Gone as in visiting his family and not the big guy. 0900 hours, I decide to check if there is being any movement on my blog, and it’s finally hit 3,000 views. Okay I got to admit, am addicted to my blog, not that it’s not common in a lot of bloggers but since I added the feedjit gadget that shows where my visitors are blogging from and the number of hits in real time, it’s become like a drug. I can’t last an hour without checking if the numbers have gone up. It is sometimes depressing since it sometimes stagnates for hours; I hit the refresh button a couple of times, no change. I exit, give it a couple of minutes and then creep in like a mini ninja (like those remaining turtles, proven mini ninjas), and take another sneak preview before I go back to my work.

As I was saying, extremely busy day, 0952 hours  but before you get down to work, you have to see the paper but since am in Lamu where the paper hits town in the afternoon, the online version works just fine, except for the lack of the classifieds and the obituaries sections, it works pretty fine. I know you’re wondering why I check out the obituaries page whenever I get the paper, but if you must know, it’s because I believe at some point people will start writing honest obituaries. Case in point, Jim Adams, who didn't die the way he wanted: which was to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a date and this was duly noted in his obituary. The classifieds are more for price comparison considering I have this habit of always paying less than the asking price, mostly; my bargaining power should be enhanced through research and the classifieds have plenty of information. Unluckily, I can’t really get that information when am reading my paper online. I do however love to be updated especially on Mondays since not much news are read over the weekend. You find out things like the Al-Qaeda mastermind responsible for the 1998 Nairobi bombing finally kicked the bucket, or rather somebody did him (do me I do you has finally being used to mean something that concerns National Security!! Finally!!) 

1042 hours, I decide I deserve a smoke, or rather I can’t go another minute without one, too dry a mouth at this moment. I don’t know why it always happens to me but when the craving hits home hard, my mouth feels like there hasn’t being much liquidity of fluids happening. Anyway, I light up my cancer stick at the Rangers lounge as I listen to a news update from Radio Jambo. Apparently the illegal liquor served with love to our fellow soldiers of boredom after work has claimed a total of 13 men!! The platoon is loosing too many men and the war being waged against us is reaching to a point where if we don’t do something now, we will end up riding the same boat. (BREAKING NEWS: The death toll has hit 17). It all started with that archaic  Mututho Law limiting the number of hours one can imbibe the magic liquid. 1700 hours to 2300 hours is not sufficient considering some of us have a larger tank than us, which means filling up may take a little longer than expected. If he ever attended an Economics class, he would have learnt government controls of any kind regardless of how well willing he is tend to kill the market, in this case people. What happens when you can’t drink in public for fear of the ever hungry Kenyan policeman? Drink in a den, where the no one is 100% conversant with the contents of the drink they are clearly enjoying. With the need to make ends meet, considering that the cost of living has almost doubled, and increasing the prices of these home made brews almost out of the question, a little catalyst maybe added to maybe speed up the process or increase the strength of this drink. Throw in the tax increases year in year out, you end up with a thirsty country whose people can neither afford the refreshment of the working class, nor even drink it in peace whenever they catch a catch a lucky break. The high unemployment level hasn’t helped much either, with these young men and women in search of either employment dealing this lethal liquid, or idleness drives them to these dens. But with the big shots preparing themselves for more important things like transport for their Hague buddies and 2012 approaching at a speed they least expected, the rest of us are just pones in their game of human chess. That’s just how being a Kenyan means, now time for a new story so we can forget about this little distraction  (did they solve that small matter of Wanjiru’s death?, or the grenades in Uhuru park a while back which claimed six unimportant lives?)

Sorry I drifted too far from my story, busy day I was talking about, 1117 hours, back in the office and there is a small issue of tax returns, mine and a few colleagues who need some direction. It doesn’t take long to show them the way and am back to my work, work, the reason I left the house this morning. I open my office cabinet and arrange my books in order of priority. My table has too much clutter I realize, a little space creation project before getting down to the important stuff. 1234 hours, lunch time. I had a heavy breakfast plus I need to make a few calls, I decide against leaving the office, too much to do. The office phone is pretty loaded which means one phone call will probably be long.

0157 hours, with my table pretty neat, I can finally get down to clearing a two week back log. Abba, a colleague of mine needs some help with internet on his phone and being a people person, I can’t really deny him one tiny little favor. Safaricom are not as friendly as they should be as they are taking a tad too long to send the settings to his phone. Luckily, I got a friend who works with Safaricom, I call up Frank and give him the details of the phone and he promises to send me the Internet settings. The phone has different line of thought and decides the configuration message isn’t compatible with its sexy self. This took us a pretty while before we eventually gave up and decided it would be much easier if he took it to a Safaricom dealer either in Malindi or Mombasa on his way to see the folks. 

0243 hours, I just remembered Biko had promised to reply to those who send him the best pieces. I had sent him a link to my blog sometimes back and I was really eager to here from him, but due to the events of the weekend just gone, I hadn’t checked my mails. I open my email but you all understand how the urban legend goes, the internet one on how you can’t just open one tab. I decide to check if my blog has a few extra views. Okay, I take it back, am not addicted to my blog; I do however love to see the numbers going up or high (the clean version). It’s also important to check your facebook page in case there is some news you haven’t heard yet or a tip that is neither constructive nor helpful in life, like how do you turn a sweet, honest girl to the cruelest, raging, most heartless bitch you'll ever meet? You break her heart. Anyway, tabs, you need a facebook tab, twitter, yahoo, gmail, your blog (or mine if you don’t have one) Arsenal.com, and in case you are one of those lonely or horny kinds, an extra one for the urges is allowed every once in a while.

Time moves really fast in the afternoons, so I’ve noticed, 0359 hours and I have another personnel issue I have to handle. Whenever I tell people to avoid bank loans like a plague unless someone is literally dying and you are out of options, they think I am being stupid. If you must, at least read the fine print and do a little shopping around for better offers, not the first bank that sends a smiley face. Anyway, am not sure if it’s Barclays Bank or Asili Sacco but one of these two is mincing this guy to the last cent.  None of the two institutions will give us a straight answer; at least we’ve established Barclays won’t which is better from none from Asili who won’t even pick up their phone. After realizing these institutions won’t give us s***, it’s back to our beloved HR guys who promised to check the information in their system and get back to us.

1631 hours, I still can’t believe this day is over that fast. I need to lock up so I can catch the 1700 hours boat. Make a quick note of things to do, buy and collect to make my work much easier tomorrow. I really hope that my boss gets another commitment tomorrow. 

It’s being a while since I had such a short busy day. I hope to compensate by doing lesser distracting things like just blogging.

Little pieces ............

It has come to my attention that people don't believe in the power of prayer anymore. Am not much of prayer either but my upbringing was heavily reliant on believing on a higher power, something in the lines of you don't have to see but you must believe but due to my lack of belief, there was a need for me to be convinced. Since am sure a lot of you need some convincing too, I will share with you this miracle that happened to this young lady who has been praying for a husband for seven years, three months and four days. 

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Facebook, twitter, my space among other social sites have become a way of  life for most people especially the younger generation. This does not mean a few of the older generation are not well versed with modern technology, probably because technology isn't ageist. Anyway, whenever you request someone to be your friend, or you decide to follow someone or whatever your social site calls the connection, always remember to lock your posts from them whenever you're saying something bad about them. These sites may cost you more than they should and if they cost you your job, believe you me the administrators will not pay your rent.

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It has come to the attention of scientists that the rate at which animals are evolving has become extremely fast. This is inversely proportional to the rate at which humans are evolving and it's scaring the hell out of scientists. The blame has however been squarely put on animal rights activists, circus freaks, zoos and animal orphanages who have made it extremely difficult for things to take their natural causes. By cuddling these animals, they have taken away their animal instinct which has being replaced with feeling and thinking. Carnivores no longer hunt as they are fed in the zoos, while the rest of them no longer have the fear of humans in them anymore.

It has been proposed that a media blackout for all animal friendly organisation be put into place until we are in a position to slow down the evolution of these animals. We don't want the situation to get to a position where we will be forced to speak monkey because the estate shop attendant speaks monkey. After the monkeys were spotted riding dogs, which means they are planning on converting mans' best friend, and bears teaching their kids how to dance, extreme steps are deemed necessary.

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Still on the issue of animals, airport authorities have complained that their sniffer dogs have started using drugs making it very difficult for them to do their jobs. The drug traffickers have devised a way of bribing the dogs with a little of the stuff they are transport in exchange for a free pass in airport security checks. 

Security forces are currently trying to decode the secret language between the drug traffickers and the sniffer dogs but they are still stuck with the middle finger sign. Anyone with any information regarding this language used is being requested to forward the same to the nearest police station. A reward of an out of jail free card for an entire year without having to bribe a police man or woman is on offer.

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And finally, EABL will be rewarding it's clients this weekend. Since the board did not approve the memo due to undisclosed differences i.e. who will take credit for the gift to the people, the employees have taken the initiative of doing it in an unconventional way. The lorry pictured below will have an "accident" sometime this weekend. You are therefore advised to keep your eyes, ears and phones open for any happenings in your area. If you spot this lorry and the "accident" does not happen in your town kindly inform a friend in the next town.

Am off to wait for the truck just in case it comes my way.

PS:

People of Southern Tsavo have been advised to be on the lookout for drunken elephants. Black elephants have been congregating along the tracks of the railroad tracks, where a train carrying hundreds of tons of corn derailed some time ago. The corn has fermented, and the aroma is attracting the elephants. "The elephants are actually intoxicated up there," said wildlife biologist Loren Mwatete.