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.

The Happy place

I haven't been home in a while, my other home where freedom to think is real regardless of what your thoughts entail. It's been almost a week now and my happy place feels a little neglected, which is understandable considering I don't usually stay this long without swinging by. It feels like years, that's right, in happy places, we bend the time and space con......(s'thing s'thing, feel free to insert word). I heard that the big guys' view of time is a little different from us mortals in the sense a day is actually a century and a century a day in God years, or something along those lines. I don't have that level of clearance when it comes to bending space and time but in my happy place, they let me squeeze an year in a day, meaning in happy place years, I haven't been home in close to seven years.


I got some groceries on my way home, some spinach too. Call me crazy but am still hoping that one day spinach soup will taste good and I'll eventually live my dream of pulling a Popeye on my Olive. Spinach thrown around some goat piece, potatoes and a whole lotta ''kadhalika'' blends real good and the soup off that ''chemsha'' is heart skipping beats awesome. If spinach soup tasted half as good, maybe, just maybe it would be a little less hated (I don't hate it personally coz I've never really tried it but I hear things). I would experiment with it and a few other ingredients but my second thought is a little uptight especially when it comes to fun involving stuff (God how I hate that voice). I was going to try a quick spinach soup experiment where you use wine instead of water but the buzzkill is all about health, ''you might get sick'', ''don't be a hero'', ''you will hurt yourself'', especially when am thinking of jumping off a boat and swimming to the sunset. I have a few stop gap measures for this particular nuisance, but it's always there in the morning 0630 hrs telling me how I shouldn't be in bed. Am working on a permanent solution but for now, vodka will do.

Some groceries and spinach in my happy place. I love this place coz I let my voices roam, outside my head they go. They are always fighting in my head since the space isn't enough for them to do their own thing plus their are involuntarily work as a team. Ms. Jane and Matt are the chilled out ones, chilling by the beach or in rooftops legs crossed, backs arched back, all smiles appreciating the big guys creation. Johnnie is the paranoid kind, restless too, so we let him roam around. He thinks we could be attacked any moment (by.........sshhh....aliens or dinosaurs.......ssshhhhh.....don't shout, you'll freak him out), he therfore needs to look for the perfect vantage point. There is always a blind spot, even when he is on top of the world, there is noone watching his back is what he says, it's safer to keep changing your spot. We let him walk for as long as he likes.

Jack wants to be the hero, saving dances, catching falling angels or beautiful women, mending broken hearts, and so forth. He is a little full of himself, he thinks he can get his hands on any woman he wants, romantic Jack he calls himself. He loves all women so much he doesn't understand why he has to stay with one. Whenever we are talking to the big guy (it's usually a family thing, all or none), he keeps asking him what he thinks about the one man one woman theory. The big guy never gives straight answers, I think that's where JC got the parables act from, but his metaphors are really hard nuts to crack (tihihihi, haard nuts to crack), and we are yet to crack our nuts.

With Ms. Jane and Matt chilling in the boat discussing all things natural, Johnnie walking off his paranoia and Jack miserably failing to catch falling angels, it's quite up here. A quick look every once in a while just to be sure you can see them, especially Johnnie and Jack, and make sure they don't stray too far is necessarily.

Off to the happy place real quick

Long call

‘‘Hallo ma'am''

‘‘Serge''

''I was going to call earlier.......'' I was a little frantic at this particular point. Scared maybe.

‘‘No need to explain yourself. You seem to forget a lot of things son, including, am always watching''


I am not really sure why I hadn't received any of the bosses’ calls. Firstly, she wasn't making those quick consecutive ones which keep you tied up in one place for ours, nor was she having a bad day where she makes one of those extremely long conversations that you wish she would shut up. I know she can be a pain in the arse sometimes, and we all know hanging up on the boss or not picking up the call isn't the best of ideas.

On a regular day, she calls at least once a day and as a good little soldier I always pick up the phone if am in a position to. If I find that the booth is not secure, I always try to find a clear line I can use unless in an emergency. Normally, the home phone is the most preferred but sometimes we are forced to.....mmhhm.....improvise, especially because most people, let me rephrase that, the productive populace is rarely home. Since no one knows the time that the call will come in we sometimes make do with our office phones, public payphones, and due to the innovations made in the recent past mobile phones.

I was having a lazy day, the kind of day calls bother you a lot. It was about 12 hours since the last call. I didn't want any distractions, in bed a couple of movies and bam, lazy Tuesday it is. The first call came in around 8.00 in the morning, I wasn't even up yet, I hung up. I guess she understood a little, a very understanding woman I must say.

It's cold outside, very cold indeed and getting out of bed has been a problem lately. The boss needed to talk about domestic protection, which wasn't a surprise because that's all she talked about day in day out. She wasn't as insistent as she normally is, well, she can sometimes make movements very difficult for someone if she doesn't get updates on what's happening in her house. If she doesn't call in a couple of days, something is wrong, terribly wrong and for the sake of your job, it's important that you look for an expert to patch you through.

Anyway, it was heading towards noon and I was still hanging up on my boss. She can be very annoying sometimes, especially in days like today when you just want to just pull the blankets and up the volume. I on the other hand can be stubborn when I think someone is being unreasonable. I honestly don’t understand why she has to be the one who always makes the call. I could call her whenever it suits me, but no, she won't even let me have her number. The worst part is when am travelling. I have to sit pretty and wait for her to call, and no offense to women, she doesn't understand the concept of keeping time. Let's just say there have been times when her timing has been terrible and I have seen people literally build booths from nothing, navigating for a little privacy.

Afternoon, and the frequency was a little on the increase. A few voicemails too, about protocols, the need for full disclosure, bitching about this and that but I kept my stance. I guess I wanted to know her limits, how far she would go to get her reports.

She kept pushing, I pushed back. The voicemails were moving from a nuisance to scary, almost threatening. She threatened to swing by the house. After the stories I've heard, and the destruction she has caused in the few places she has visited, this message was now causing discomfiture of spirits. Mother Nature is not the kind of visitor one welcomes with open hands. Not after Katrina, Japan, Haiti, Australia and those not on the list. I don't want to be the reason why she swung by, as we all know what happened when my Japanese friend Kasumi Fujimoto didn't heed her call.



And then, around 0121 hours, she left the strongest message yet leaving me clutching my tummy, with both pain and fear. I had to talk to her now, or right now.

‘‘Hallo ma'am''

‘‘Serge''

''I was going to call you earlier.....''

‘‘No need to explain yourself. You seem to forget a lot of things son, including, am always watching''

Awkward silence

''I had some githeri for lunch''

''I know''

''Rice last night''

''I know''

''Some nyam chom and......''

''I know, now will you shut up and let the fax print?''

''Okay ma'am''

Do you know what is happening to your fellow Kenyans on the north. If you don't, swing by http://kenyansforkenya.org and see. You can also follow the following simple steps.

• Go to MPESA Pay Bill Option
• Enter the Number 111111
• Press ok, then Enter Account No 111111
• Enter the amount you wish to donate.
• Enter your PIN number
• Your donation is through.

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.

Found God

Firstly, I got to admit that am not much of a prayer, at least not the Church kind of prayer. I don’t know the Lord’s Prayer word for word, but I know the message by heart. Saying the grace before a meal or a quick “Lord bless this food before we take it” is not a problem though.

I was born a Christian, Anglican Church of Kenya member I am. My mum bought that hard covered yellow book with big words and cute pictures called “Bible Stories”, which means even though I don’t read the Bible much nowadays, I do have an idea on what it says, the key message at least. I went to church up until I was around 11 years old, and Sunday school taught me another or two other things about God, before the “double dragon” gave me the choice between the 8:30 viewership and the church, I chose the former. Although I attended the classes one needs to be confirmed, I was a month younger than the required age for one to be confirmed, 11 years, 10 months and a couple of days old is not old enough for a Christian to be confirmed according to the shepherd. This meant no holy communion for yours truly. I was born a Christian, but am a lousy one.

When I was much younger, it didn’t matter much that my relationship with God was flawed, it even seemed macho in a way. Telling someone I haven’t been to church since 1996 felt like I beat God in a chess game or something, like I deserved a trophy for the longest time without attending a church service competition if there is anything like that. But as I grew older, I realized that to be complete, one needs to have a relationship with God. At first it was really difficult considering I hadn’t talked to God in a long time; I had no idea where I should start.

A couple of years ago, I went to a certain Church close to where I live, me and my cousin were feeling a little holy that morning despite been hung over. The praise and worship was wonderful I remember, plus the choir master was extremely hot. It was lively, probably because majority of the congregation were quite young, flexible too and quite conversant with the dance moves of the day, F2 dance moves of the day. I could fit in here. It looked like a bunch of lost sheep trying to look for God just like me, trying to balance the hype, wild, energetic and promiscuous lifestyle they were living and the search for God. A little sad the sight was, but I am not to judge according to the Christian teachings my Sunday school teacher handed down to me when we were tighter.

This was a special Sunday; I don’t know why God wanted me to go to his house on this particular day but he did have his reasons. I believe we all have to follow a script penned down by the big guy, who meant the script dictated that on this particular Sunday, I was supposed to be here, and so was this American preacher. This preacher had a message from God. The message that God decided to relay through this vessel was, “Plant a seed, and wait to sow”. God wants us to sacrifice the little that we had for him to multiply the nothing that we would be left with. 50 dollars was the seed initially, everyone in the house who would like God to look at him favorably was to lift his hand and the closest usher to him will hand them an envelope where he will put his 50 dollar (50 * 80 = 4,000 Ksh., for those not so good at math) seed. It was around month end and around half the congregation was not bothered with that kind of amount. Am not sure if God talked to him in the middle of the sermon, or he realized that not everyone in here has a source of income, the dress code (flashy) had deceived the messenger, or even God himself. Considering how full the parking lot was, I would be deceived too. In the middle of his sermon, he realized some people, me included, couldn’t just come up with 50 dollars on the spot, the seed had to be a little lower, 25 dollar seed y’all. Quite a sizeable number lifted their hands and the ushers rushed to issue the ground unto which the seed was to be planted. Still, some of us couldn’t come up with Ksh. 2,000 on spot either and the seed went down to 20 dollars, then 10 dollars and finally to whatever one could afford.

This was the first Church service I had attended in a long time, except for a few funerals and one or two weddings. God says not to judge according to the Bible. Maybe the big guy had a lapse when writing my script but this was no way to try and bring me back to the Church. A couple of chapters later, the script put me in Church again. The pastor was not feeling well and couldn’t make it to church on that day; his co-pastor slash wife was leading the congregation. This church loved their pastor and co-pastors so much; they referred them as mum and dad. Daddy wasn’t feeling very well and mummy knew the perfect gift to brighten up his day. Kids gather around, let’s surprise daddy with “A PRADO”!!! Don’t judge anybody Serge, the Bible says not to.

Finding God was going to be harder than anticipated, the only way I knew was quickly was turning out to be a dead end. Television had its services too, E-Church they call it and the message was more or less the same, help the pastor spread the word of God. The Bible says don’t judge, so I won’t. I tried a couple of different churches for a while but I wasn’t feeling it, it was like they were pushing me further from God than drawing me closer. It felt like they needed me to leave all else and find God through them rather than pointing me in the right direction for me to find God on my own, have a personal relationship with God as they kept saying. 

I didn’t own a Bible, still don’t (you are not allowed to judge me either) but I had a very convenient phone. I bookmarked the online Bible and every once in a while I would search a random scripture and try to break it down. I did that with the Quran and a few religious scriptures sites www.religionfacts.com, www.religion-online.org, www.brill.nl, and a couple of more sites. At first the messages were conflicting, especially when it came to the practices and rituals, but a closer look brought out one thing was clear in the 50 + religions that we have. They believe of one Supreme Being that dictates their lives, creator of the universe, judge of all humans,

“There is only one God” –Isaiah 43:10, 44:6, John 17:3, 1 Corinthians 8:5-6, Galatians 4:8-9

“Righteous is he who believes in Allah and the last day and the Angels and the Scriptures and the Prophets” Quran 2:177

“Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is unique/alone” in the Torah - Deuteronomy 6:4 (Judaism)

Basically, most religions believe in the one God, the one Supreme Being, the creator and ruler of the universe. We do have a few religions that have multiple gods, but there is one who is superior to other deities. At least 53% of the world population believes in the God of Abraham, one Supreme Being.

At this juncture of my search for God, I partially understood a thing or two about the big guy. He’s there, I knew that much. For one to understand him though, you had to talk to him. This was easier said than done especially because I didn’t have a direct line to him, or at least a location, somewhere we could sit and talk or something along these lines. A friend of mine, staunch Christian, once told me if you want to talk to God, you should talk to him like a friend. My aunt Cate, God rest her soul in peace, told me he’s like a parent, a father to be precise. If ever I needed something, I should just ask him. My understanding was God has his moments. There are times when he needs to act like a parent and us his children, and times when he needs us to be his friends. When we were younger, we were not supposed to question our parents, they were always right regardless of what everyone else told us. As we grew older, we started questioning some of the things that they do, decisions that they make for us, the way they relate with their peers, small details here and there. Why should I do this? Why shouldn’t I do that or go there? Whys’ and what’s’. In our search for self and God, it’s no different. We question why God does this or that, what he expects of us, why does he have to be the all knowing father? What’s the point of free will if he can bend us to his will in a flash? Why did he create us and condemn some of us to hell?

Prayer becomes essential, talk to God, ask him and he will answer, or at least show you how to find these answers. As a parent, he takes care of his own, especially when we are young in the faith. As we grow, he lets us roam, allows us to question life, question his decisions, and rebel against his will because he knows that is the only way to find our place in his house. If we think we can make a better decision than him, he lets us try (I believe this is the purpose of free will), so we can learn he knows better than us. When we pray for something, he weighs your strengths, your needs, and your weaknesses to see if you need his help or you can do it on your own. Sometimes he’ll help, and sometimes he’ll let you sweat it out.

As you grow in your faith, it reaches a point where you become friends with God, the same way we become friends with our earthly fathers after attaining a certain age. We discuss our ideas, throw them around in a conversation, he gives you pointers and let you make the final decision. If you get to this point, you can proudly say you know God. It’s at this point in your relationship with God that you should take it upon yourself to lead others to find him too, walk with them or at least point them in the right direction.

As a father, he understands that not all of his children will toe the line. He might punish you every once in a while, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He will reward a well behaving child, but that does not mean he loves him more either. He will love you regardless of who you turn out to be because regardless of what you turn out to be, you are still his child, and that is something no one can take away from you. 

Personally, am still in the questioning stage. I question my imperfections, if am created in God’s image, does that mean God makes mistakes, regrets some of the things that he does, makes rash decisions every once in a while, does my imperfections reflect on his imperfection? Like father like son they say around here. I rebel against his will, and do things just to test his limits. I know he understands am growing in my faith, and as a good father, he lets me roam and rebel because he knows that is the only way for me to eventually understand that without him I can’t do much. Run around kid, but eventually, you will have to come back home.

I was born a Christian yes, but being a Christian does not mean knowing God. Neither does being a Muslim, a Jew, a Buddhist or any of the 50 + religions worldwide guarantees that one knows God better than the next guy. The relationship between God and self is a personal one, the same as of an earthly father and his children. Yes we are all one big family, but when we need something outside the norm (basic needs and breathe of life), we go to him alone and not as Christians, Muslims, Jews or whichever branch of Gods family you hang on to. If you go to him alone, he will listen to you as an individual and not as a family.

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!!

Sunsets

I do pity people living in big cities, always fighting traffic, between polluted air and noisy public transport system, they never seem to notice when the ending of their day comes. The quick summary of the night ahead eludes them, the beauty of the sun going to bed. One of the most beautiful phenomena is that of the day turning in to the night especially if it's going to be a starry night. Watching the sun go down is one of the most amazing sights of Gods’ creation, better if it's placed on an oceans and palm trees background. When it starts going down, it turns to a bright yellow, kind of translucent. The movement of the wind is a little fast at the beginning meaning that on a good night when the clouds are spaced out,  moving from one end to the other as the sun goes down behind them, the images are more agile. You see, with the clouds sliding behind it, the lucent rays create different images, like a slide show in the sky. We all have things that make us tick, what makes us smile when we sleep, dreams, hopes, wishes, each one of us has a different view of a better world. In these slides, everyone sees what makes them feel alive, what you feel the world should look like. Some of us see superheroes, knights in shining armor, lion king, and clown faces. Others see ship wrecks and battle fields, while some see flower fields, mermaids, and angels, anything you want to see. These are normally conceptual images and whatever you see is probably not what I see.
 

As the sun starts to go down, it's shade of yellow starts to fade out from a bright shiny yellow to a darker, healthier shade, almost glowy but with a deep healthy feel, like a dimly lit room kind of glow. The cloud movement doesn't change, but the pace looks like it’s a slower one. You can’t be really be sure if it’s your imagination but the images in the slides are much more relaxing, images are much clearer, deeper color. The art is epic. Waterfalls, wind, or how do you think people learnt to draw the wind? The images are much more relaxing now, absorbing. Absolute silence is required. A few smiles will escape you, coz if you were having a bad day; this is the point where you think that somewhere on the other side, someone else is watching the same sun rise. He or she is hopeful that the day will be as awesome as the sunrise. Like people say, the sunrise is like a preview of the day, and the sunset a quick summary of the night. Slow sunsets turn out to be slow nights while a quick one turns out quite hectic nights, the nights you don't want to ever end. If you are watching the sun dragging itself home, someone is watching the same sun struggling to rise, long day it will be for him.

The sun is now brimstone, crimson red, partly hidden. Deep. It's extremely quiet, almost as quiet as between a couple of minutes before six and a couple of minutes before in the morning people are changing shifts, night turning to day. At some point between these, points, the world is mostly quiet as rulers of the night lay their heads down and the day folks struggle to wake up. Like zombies they drag their weight around either for coffee or whatever switches on their lights, or for a place to lay their heads down. Quietly they partake this ritual and the world feels peaceful, no one is thinking how terrible their day was, too tired to worry, or whether they've finished that presentation for the 10:00 o’clock meeting, still too sleepy to worry. That's how the sun ends a sunset and starts a sunrise. Without a care in the world. This is why the most beautiful part of a sunrise is at the beginning and the ending just does it for the sunset. 

Part of the sun is now hidden; the color is a deeper shade of red. You can see some of the brighter stars popping out and on a good night, you see the moon rising on the eastern end. The sun is struggling to stay afloat, and you're praying that it would win the fight although deep inside you know it's got to go. Like the end of a great first date, you know you have to let her go but if you had your way, you wouldn't let her go. You watch her walk, she turns around after every couple of steps to see if you're still there, she gets to the door, blows you kiss, opens the door, turns back with this amazing smile begging you to come and sweep her away and ride with her to the sunset. That's how the sunset ends, leaves you nostalgic. 

Stars pop up one by one, on a good night; you might have a starry night. The kind that has you making out shapes in the skies, mermaid images, a beautiful lady you think about all the time, nice kind of images. When you are utmost peaceful, it's always your sub conscience at play. When watching the sunrise and the sunset, you are extremely peaceful and the images you see on the slides are what your dreams tend to be, what kind of a person you are. If what you see are ship wrecks, battle fields, you are probably a violent person, because it shows violence makes you smile, it’s what drives you. For peaceful people, it could be anything from birds, to flowers, clowns, whatever makes us smile. On starry nights too, we make out images in the skies of what or who we think about a lot when we are alone. If it's a girl, the stars might spell out her name, or a spitting reflection of her. When you see someone smiling for no reason during a starry night, that’s' a special woman he's staring at up there. 

As I was saying, watching the sunset is beautiful. It reflects what we dream of, hope for, the simple things that make us smile. I kinda believe if you watch the sunset with someone for long enough you can truly say you've ever seen her smile, when you say I love your smile, it's not the one that she will flash and blush a little, it's that effortless expression of feeling when the sun is sliding to bed. I do believe that most movie directors watch sunsets, they get a quick preview of their projects. When you watch a preview, most previews at least, you get the feeling that this is going to be one of the greatest movies ever made, sometimes it is, and sometimes it turns out to be a shitty movie. When the director was watching the preview of his next project, he had the same thing in mind. You can imagine David Cameron’s sunsets, giving rise to amazing movies in the lines of titanic, avatar. Or Stephen Spielberg and Michael Scorsese sunset products. Then you have people who direct movies like scream, and the others that you can't remember their names at the top of your head coz they totally sucked. The imagination these people have to be able to watch the preview of a movie like troy before it was ever made is just overwhelmingly magnificent. Bar named like ''bull balls'' in Nicholas Cages’ new movie drive crazy can only be revealed in the slides of a sunset.

I love sunsets. I might not get enough chances to watch them but when I do, I let them sway my world. Lamu gives me a lot of these chances, ocean background sunsets. I wish I could take the ocean with me when I live this place, but am hoping to watch the sun set in different background and compare. I’ll try the mountains, the lake, behind tall buildings, and basically anything I’ll lay my eyes on.