Kimoda Escapades (Part 3)

“Mr.Owiti, I think it is time you get introduced to our candidates. When you are ready, you can tell me I go and introduce you.” The deputy principal Mr.Kenga suggested to me.

“Yeah, sure.It is about time. We can go now.” I answered, ready to make the most out of my first impression.

He stood up and as he walked out of the staffroom, I followed him. The classrooms were located behind the main administration block. We went round the block and just before we entered the form four class, I hummed a short prayer asking God to straighten the crooked paths that the devil might be planning to lay ahead of me! I also asked Him to give me the courage to talk eloquently and not embarrass myself with concocted English! I adjusted my tie, for the sixth time, and when all was set, followed Mr.Kenga into the class.

We found all the students asleep, except two; a light skinned girl who was applying make-up. She had finished with the lip gloss and now she was just getting started with the eye shadow. A huge mirror was placed where her exercise books were supposed to be.Using a mathematical set to provide support, the mirror was tilted at angle to give the best reflection and a fairly dark-skinned boy who, on seeing us enter the classroom, struggled to hide what looked like a smart phone! The deputy principal cleared his throat and the rest woke up, some struggling to maintain straight faces by widening their eyes, some removing books from inside their lockers and pretending to be calculating some complex simultaneous equations while some pretended to be reading from text books that were held downside up.

“Good morning class.” Mr.Kenga started.

“Good morning teacher.” The response came with clear female voices mixed with groans from the boys, especially from the back-benchers!

“I am here to introduce to you a new member of staff. He will be handling Physics and I must say you guys are lucky to have him. Since this school started, we have never had a graduate handling such technical subjects like Physics. As you all know, all past teachers of Physics were mere Form four leavers with questionable characters! I hope he will add some oomph and be able to open your eyes to see the nitty-gritty! He is only here for two months and so I urge all of you to make use of him. Disturb him with questions! Follow him up and down! Ask him for clarifications where you do not understand!  Do not let such a brain go to waste! Now I will give him this opportunity to tell us his name and more about himself. (Turning to me).You are highly welcome sir.’’ 

All this while, as the deputy was addressing the students, all their eyes were on me! They were scrutinizing me! Dissecting me with their sharp, curious eyes!

Just as I stepped forward to begin my address, the whole class exploded in loud laughter. I wondered what might be so funny! Was it my tie sticking out of the coat again? No! Was it my un-ironed shirt? No! Was it my old coat? Was my flier open? I checked and found it was not. Then what could it be? My shoes? Yes, they had a gaping hole which made them appear as if they were laughing but it could not be because they seem not to have noticed them.

(photo: independent.co.uk)

All this while they have just been staring at my face. It was when one student pointed somewhere around my neck that I found out the cause of their unprecedented laughter. Close to 22 overweight bedbugs were playing football, using my tie as a level playing ground. They seem to be somersaulting and sliding all the way down in an unsolicited display of martial art Techniques. Some were playing hide and seek, appearing and disappearing into the crevices and the folds of my shirt! I shook them away and they all scattered in different directions, some under my armpit, and some past my ears all the way to the forest on my head. Some even found it fit and safer to seek refuge inside the bush surrounding my testicles!

Impulse Buying

I swear I never wanted to buy blue socks,

It is just that the girl who was selling them had sexy dreadlocks,

And the way her dreamy eyes rolled in their sockets,

Reminded me that I had some extra money in my pockets.

I swear I never planned to buy a sweater,

What will I even use it for in this hot weather?

It is just that the brown woman who was selling it was so bubbly,

And her bra cupped her full, soft breasts so perfectly.

I would be a cheat,

If I say I had budgeted to buy a pregnancy test kit,

Baby, I know you are not even pregnant,

But the guy who was selling it was so adamant.

I would still be a liar,

If I say I had the intention of purchasing a steel wire,

It is just that the hawker was very hilarious,

His jokes forced me to be generous.

Baby, you know I don’t buy things at dusk,

It is just that I pitied the old man who was selling this thermos flask,

He looked so desperate,

I was compelled to promote his trade.

(image credits: Daily Mirror)

Kimoda Escapades (Part 2)

“Can you teach Physics?’’ That was the first question the principal of Kimoda mixed secondary school asked me as soon as we were settled in his office. I said yes.

‘And sing too?’’ I also answered this in the affirmative.

“Well, I am not looking for a musician. I am in need of a Physics teacher. Are you sure you can handle KCSE Physics practical?’’ I said yes.

“When can you start?” he asked.

“You mean I have the job?” I was a bit surprised.

“Yes. When can you start? Now?’’ This one got me stammering! I wanted to say, “Why not?” but then I remembered we had not discussed about the salary.

“How much will you be paying me?”

“Is Kshs 5,000 per month okay with you?’’ I said No.

“What about Kshs 7,000?’’ I said No.

“Kshs 9,000?” I said No.

“Okay, you may leave. I will look for another person! I cannot pay you more than Kshs 9,000” he said this while standing up.

“Wait. I will take Kshs 10,000”

“No. As I said earlier, I am not paying you more than Kshs 9,000.”

“Okay, make it Kshs 9,500.”

“Deal. When can you start?”

“Monday is good.”

“No problem. Let me take you to the staffroom and introduce you to other teachers. After that, I will direct someone to show you where you will sleep when you come on Monday.’’ We rose and, the principal leading the way, walked to the staffroom.

“Excuse me teachers. Sorry for interrupting your busy schedules. I would like to introduce to you our new member of staff Mr… (He looked at me to remind him of my name. I did and he finished his statement)...Owiti.He will be handling Physics. (Pointing at the deputy principal).Mr.Kenga, you will show Mr.Owiti where to sit. You may also take him to the teacher’s quarters and show him where he will sleep when he will come on Monday next week. (Turning to me) Mr.Owiti, I will allow you to interact with the teachers. I hope they will treat you nicely. See you on Monday.” With those few introductory remarks, he left. I remained standing there like a helpless pregnant woman.

“Welcome.’’ I heard the voice of a lady say.

“Welcome. Let us go I show you where you will sleep.’’ The deputy principal saved me from just standing there like an idiot and so we left the staffroom and walked along the pavement leading to teacher’s quarters. We entered a house which had many rooms inside. He opened one room which was empty and told me that that would be my room. He will order some students to mop it for me. As for a bed, he promised to organize one for me by the time I will be reporting on Monday. I bade him goodbye and left.

By 7.45 am on Monday, I arrived, like I promised, to start my new life in Kimoda Mixed secondary school.First, I reported to the principal’s office to sign the contract but the principal informed me that in Kimoda, employees do not sign contracts. (Signal number one of what Kimoda had in store for me).

From the principal’s office, I went to the staff- room to see which table the deputy had assigned for me. There was no table for me. (Second signal of what Kimoda had in store for me).The deputy pointed at something that resembled a log of wood with the shape of a coffin and pleaded with me to make it as my temporary table. As for a chair, he gave me an old jerrican to use as they wait for new set of furniture expected to be delivered that next week. From the staff-room, I went to my room to offload the bag which carried my personal effects. The room was mopped but the bed was still missing. I went back to enquire from the deputy where my bed could be and he told me to relax. That I will get my bed before sunset.Meanwhile, he offered me a mattress that was so thin it could break the ribs of a mosquito. (Third signal of what Kimoda had in store for me).

I never wanted to head straight to class so I requested the deputy to give me one day to put my things in order. You know getting the text books, drafting a personal timetable and just getting to know where things are! He agreed and so I spent the rest of the day surveying my new environment. The bed did arrive in the evening. It looked fairly good enough but at night after discovering that it was hiding 8,702,809,546 bedbugs, I abandoned it and slept on the floor where the bedbugs followed me and sucked 6 liters of my blood. I woke up in the morning with only 0.00045 ml of blood left in my body. (Fourth signal of what Kimoda had in store for me).

Day two: I woke up scratching my body like someone dipped inside a super drum full of chillied water! The bedbugs had worked on me properly! I know they will go for 700 years before they think of sucking somebody again!  My nails could not do a better scratching job and so I went outside and after one hour of thorough search, came back with a rough-edged stone. I was peeling off my skin with this stone when the deputy came to my room to say hello.

“I hope you slept well Mr.Owiti.”

“Yes. Where will I get water? I want to shower."

“I will send someone to bring for you water. The bathroom is over there (pointing at a room in the further end of the house).”

“Thank you.”

The water was brought by the gate-man. He left and came back with a basin. He gave me the basin and left without saying a word. (Fifth signal of what Kimoda had in store for me)

As I was pouring the water from the jerrican into the basin, a fellow teacher (I remember seeing him in the staffroom yesterday) came from outside, greeted me and then entered the bathroom and closed the door. I wondered what he could be doing inside the bathroom without water! When he finished whatever he was doing, I entered the bathroom and I was immediately welcome with a repulsive strong stench of rotten ammonia. That the person who used the bathroom last might have urinated inside was a gross understatement. This must be a urinal and it must have been used for that purpose for more than 3,000 years! (Sixth signal of what Kimoda had in store for me).

I showered in exactly one point four times ten raised to power negative twelve seconds! I swear if I could have stayed a single second longer inside there, I would have died of mandatory suffocation or what in medical jargon is referred to as ammonia poisoning by default. I wore my best suit, which my grandfather left for me when he died of prostate cancer, with a matching tie! 

By the time I entered the staff-room, it was slightly passed 8 a.m.Inside the staff-room, I only found evidences of people having taken tea and bread. I felt embarrassed to ask for my share. Through the corners of my eyes, I surveyed for any remainder of bread but I successfully failed in my survey! There was a thermos flask on top of the deputy principal’s desk but I could not gather courage to ask whether it had some tea inside or not. 

While I was devising a million ways of knowing whether the flask had tea or not, the deputy called one of the students and instructed him to take the flask to the matron for washing! My suspicions were therefore buried there and then! I had to kaa ngumu and pretend that breakfast was the least of my concern but the worms inside my stomach could not let me pretend! Of all the days, they chose this particular morning to organize a choir and sing Christmas carols the whole morning. They only stopped at around 11. a.m when it finally dawned on them that no matter how loud they sing, I was not moved by compassion and neither was I moved by Christmas songs! The worms should have at least asked me whether I was a Christian or not first before venturing into singing Christmas songs inside my stomach.

I asked the deputy for text books and their corresponding teacher’s guides but he told me that he will only give me one Physics text book.(Seventh signal of what Kimoda had in store for me).That one of Form four. He added that I look bright enough and I can manage to teach the rest of the classes of-head! Did he not hear that I scored A in Physics? As for the guides, even them they do not have! I will have to make do with the resources that are available.

(image credits: www.caglobalint.com)

Kimoda Escapades: Part 1.

Someone once quipped that if you have never attended GNLD or FORVER LIVING meetings then you have not tarmacked! I agreed with her totally but not after tarmacking took me to a certain high school in Ukambani to teach Physics for a two months contract. Their Physics teacher, apparently, had disappeared without notice when KCSE was around the corner and so they wanted someone to assist in arranging for practicals during KCSE exams.Rumour had it that the teacher feared the embarrassment that awaited him as he did not know what a connecting wire is nor had he seen a voltmeter! I will not mention the name of the school. I do not have Millions of Shillings to pay for defamatory charges in case someone will see it fit to sue my broke ass.For the sake of this article, allow me to call it KIMODA MIXED SECONDARY SCHOOL, or KIMODA in short. How did I even find myself in Kimoda?

I was just strolling in a certain urban Centre in Ukambani when I saw a notice plastered on the stem of an electricity pole. I moved closer and read the advertisement:

‘’KIMODA MIXED SECONDARY SCHOOL

Is looking for teachers with the following combinations to start work immediately,

Maths/Chem

Maths/Phyc

Eng/Lit

Bio/Chem

Call 0378129034’’

I could have called the number immediately but my airtime balance was reading Kshs 0.02.I could have topped up because I had a Kshs 20 coin in my pocket but you see, Safaricom would have deducted their money and my balance would still remain Kshs 0.02.I had Okoad Jahazi of Kshs 50 (Safaricom only gave me Kshs 45) and they have been reminding me to pay for the past two weeks! When I kept quiet and never answered them, they started threatening me.Oh sijui they will block my line or they will enlist me with Credit Bureau as a National loan defaulter and that no financial institution will ever give me a loan! I still did not respond. They even resorted to threatening me with arrest warrants but I remained adamant. ’Can’t pay, won’t pay’’ was my mantra! I even started avoiding strange calls because I did not want to risk. Maybe it could be a GSU officer, a Safaricom lawyer or even a RECCE squad commander! At that point I had to be extremely alert. Anything could happen!

I had to wait for my sponsor to bail me out. My sponsor was the guy who was responsible for my feeding and accommodation in Ukambani as I tarmack.Every job seeker living in any urban Centre has someone like that. When he finally arrived in the house at around 11pm, I asked him to send me some airtime as there was an important call that I wanted to make first thing tomorrow morning. Being philanthropic enough, he transferred Kshs 20 to my line. This one Safaricom swallowed in one gulp (for those who drink chang’aa we call this kind of swallowing ‘’flash’’) and my balance remained Kshs 0.02.With my Kshs 20 coin, I had bought Bamba 20 card.I scratched it carefully and fed the digits with utmost keenness! (I once had a worst experience scratching these cards. I was a bit rough with a particular one and I accidentally erased two digits. I had to spend three working days trying 2 billion combinations in vain. Finally, I had to give up and hide the Bamba 10 card under the bed to try another day).Anyway, this too Safaricom swallowed without mercy, like that village dog which look at you with pleading eyes and after throwing for it a bone, it swallows it very first and then look at you again, like you never gave it anything! My balance still indicated Kshs 0.02 and Safaricom still had the audacity to remind me to pay the remaining Kshs 10 towards my Okoa Jahazi loan.

The next morning, my sponsor left for me Khs 100.This was to buy 25 Jerricans of water, one chapatti for breakfast, a piece of bar soap,Sukumawiki and an egg for lunch, a packet of salt, a quarter litre of mafuta taa,boiled beans for supper, onions and tomatoes. Apart of this money was also to be used to pay debt at ‘Fast and Furious’’ shop located on the ground floor. I was to use a small section of this money as my fare to town to pick a parcel for my sponsor. The balance was to be kept as a security in any case he might go and come empty handed in the evening. After six hours of drafting a workable and fitting budget, I managed to squeeze Kshs 15 out of this Kshs 100 to buy airtime!

With my Safaricom loan settled, I climbed to the top of the building where we hang clothes to make my important phone call. The person on the other side, after listening to me filing my petition, from when I was first admitted to St.Peter nursery school in Ahero,wearing a blue uniform to scoring grade A in Physics in Aywayo Yip mixed day, boarding community school for adult learning and hearing impaired persons to graduating with second class honors with 61.2227 aggregate points, just cut me short to ask where I am! Imagine! After all that! And I still had my work experience and other evidences to table. Like how I have worked as a salesman hawking boiled eggs in Kisumu bus stage, selling roasted maize in Eldoret using divide and rule method (where one roasted maize cob is divided into tiny sections for those who could not afford the whole cob) to vending newspapers in Nairobi.

I stammered and finally managed to inform him that I was on top of a certain building. Before he said anything, I added that the place where I was is where we hang clothes to dry and that I had chosen that strategic place because it had clear signals! ‘’Are you getting my voice loud and clear?’’ I asked him. He did not answer. ’By the way, I am also a singer! I can sing any song. In fact, I can sing for you right now! Which song would you like me to sing for you? That new one of Ken Wa Maria?’’ He did not answer again.

When he spoke again, he just asked whether I could make it to Kimoda before 4pm that same day! I answered ‘’Yes.’’ I wanted to ask him whether I should carry along my certificates ( I have certificate from Nursery school, Primaryschool, secondary school,University,certificate of good conduct from Central police station, certificate from Kenya bureau of standards, birth and death certificates, certificate from HELB indicating my loan balance has tripled due to non-compliance, a certificate I got from Miruge herbs after attending a short course on how to kill bedbugs using the roots of Nymph tree, certificate of participating in Eating competition during First Lady’s Elgeyo-Marakwet half marathon, certificatefrom KRA showing that I am exempted from paying taxes, certificate I got when I became second last in Mr. Kenya beauty contest and certificate indicating that I was once a member of Kenya Red cross society) but Safaricom could not allow me.They abruptly cut off my connection and sent me an SMS to inform me that my airtime balance has returned to its original and seemingly permanent position of Kshs 0.02.I tried to request for another Okoa jahazi loan but they delightfully denied me, saying I am not eligible for a loan and that I should try again in 2038!

I ran back to the house and retrieved my drafted budget from under the pillow. I had a lot of adjustments to make. After another two hours of plotting a graph of liabilities against assets and calculating the gradient, I squeezed another Kshs 24 from the original lump sum of Kshs 100 and used it as my ‘fare’’ to Kimoda.The fare is in quotes because in real sense, I walked all the way to Kimoda using the Kshs 24 to purchase roasted maize, taking advantage of the divide and rule method discussed up there. It is this roasted maize that kept me company along the way! 

At 4.40pm,just a little 40 minutes late, I arrived in Kimoda with a tie which, on face value, appeared as a normal tie made from cotton but which when viewed from a critical angle actually had more sisal material in it than cotton. If I were to teach you Genetics, I would say that in this intercourse of cotton and sisal in my tie, sisal had dominant genes while cotton had recessive genes but lectures about Genetics should be scheduled for another day, shouldn’t it? Critical angle is a vocabulary I learnt during our high school Physics lesson. I was ready to pump this same vocabulary into the heads of my would be students!  That is, if I would pass this interview. Wish me luck!

Leaving Town

Sweet daughter of South Nyanza,
With fine legs and smooth face,
With white teeth and soft hair,
Let's leave this place where the neighbor’s house is mounted on top of ours
Strange noises from their bedroom sip through the window to wake up our children in the middle of the night,
Oh daughter of Nyakach,
The love of my life,
My God-sent wife,
Let's leave this place and go to the village!

My love, Let’s leave this place where women cover only their tits and pubic hair,
And leave every other things bare for men to feast on,
Men who want to see everything!
My love, let’s go to South Nyanza!

'Nyathi Nyakach' you are a rare breed,
Even after giving birth to two children your breasts are still firm and steady,
Your belly is still flat like that of a virgin,
Let's leave this place where sounds of gun shots interrupt us in the middle of love making,
This place where bullets are strewed everywhere and buildings are brought down by grenades,
My love this place is not safe,
Let's go and enjoy the cool breeze by the shores of Lake Victoria!

Lovely daughter of Nyabondo,
Your beauty is praised as far as Kendu Bay,
Don't you want the best for our children?
Let's leave this place where playing fields are fenced by private developers,
Our children risk their lives playing on the balcony,
This place where feaces are more than toilets,
Making sewage pipes to burst and overflow!

Pretty daughter of Sondu,
Let's go eat fish in Rusinga,
Let's go swim in river Miriu,
Let's leave this place where we sit in the traffic for four hours breathing polluted air,
This place where men dye their hair and sniff  glucose,
Let's leave this place where young girls swallow pills and bleach their skin!

Mother of my children,
Let's leave this place where electricity and water is rationed,
Where gangsters strike in broad daylight,
This place where thieves snatch handbags and phones in full glare of potbellied city askaris,
In this place, honesty and modesty are virtues of the past generation of our forefathers!

My lover,
My best friend,
This place is full of piracy,
These people don't know the value of true authentic art,
Let's leave this place where young adults, with yellow pants'' steal beats from internet and sing about alcohol and how they have more money than the bank,
Let's go drink pure mild busaa and enjoy live orchestra music by Ohangla boys band,
We will eat potatoes and drink indigenous chicken soup,
Not thick white flesh of city chicken injected with growth hormones,
In the village, we will not get cancer,
We will feed on herbs and arrow roots and our libido will be at its peak!

(Image credits: Pinterest)

False Motherhood

My daughter is only ten,
And she insists that we call her ‘mama Ben"
She cares for her younger brother,
And tells him that she is his mother,
My daughter says she is the mother of my son.

My daughter cries when we call her by her name,
She insists we call her ‘mama Ben’,
She carries her younger brother on her lap,
If he ignores her commands,she threatens him with a slap,
She feeds him and lulls him to sleep,
She wakes him up and gives him milk,
My daughter says she is the mother of my son.

My daughter is only ten,
And she insists we call her ‘’mama Ben’,
She teaches Ben how to walk and she cooks for him lunch,
Every Sunday,she dresses him and carries him to church,
She puts his mouth on her flat chest and ‘breastfeeds’ him,
If he cries,she cries too,
If we try to help,she refuses and says she knows what to do.

My daughter is a mother,
She is the mother of her younger brother,
My daughter says she is the mother of my son

(image credits:Pinterest)

To men who assault women in public

A man who assaults a woman in public is not a human being.He is an animal who should either be caged in a zoo or thrown deep inside the jungle.If a man can assault a woman in public,how much worse can he do in private.We,Kenyans,should not take such unbecoming behaviors among men lightly.We should condemn such heinous acts with the strongest terms possible.In my opinion,the following repercussions should meet a man who assaults a woman in public.

A man who assaults a woman in public is not a real man.His balls should therefore be crushed into smithereens.If he is not a real man,What does he need balls for? After crushing his ball,his beard should be uprooted and the strands of hairs be used to make ropes .These ropes should then be used to tie a goat.Did they not say that birds of the same feathers flock together? What is the difference between a man who assaults a woman in public and a goat?

If he is married, his wife should divorce him.His children should distance themselves from him.They should say,"This animal here is not my father." His wife should say that she married a man,not an animal.His neighbors should ex-communicate him from the estate.His friends should desert him and call him a wild dog.

If his parents are still alive,they should disown him.His mother should announce that she raised up a man,not a hyena.That it is only a hyena who can suckle her breasts and later turn around and slap the same breasts.That only a hyena can rain blows on a helpless woman in the full glare of cameras.His father should address a gathering and declare openly that he never sired a wild animal.His father should strip him of the his name and let him be called something else.

If he is employed,then his or her boss should sack him.Animals do not earn salaries.Animals are not entitled to allowances and retirement benefits.His landlord should throw his buttocks out in the cold streets because those are the kinds of places scavengers belong to.His pastor should cast him into a deep bottomless pit because he is the real devil.

The government should deport him.Not to Dubai nor Canada.He should be deported to a war-torn country like Syria,Afghanistan or South Sudan.Brutal soldiers should rape his buttocks and force him to swallow a grenade.His bowels should be blown out and his eyes should be pierced with a poisoned arrow

(image credits: oneindia.com)

Achola Is Getting Married

Achola is getting married,
And not even a single person is worried,
Even her parents think it is a big joke,
Either the man is mad or is desperately broke!

Achola, the ugliest girl in Usenge, is getting married next week,
Her parents have agreed to exchange her for three sheep,
But the man has insisted on paying the customary twelve cows,
He has promised to drive the cows in Achola's father's compound before they exchange the vows,
The whole village is in laughter,
They are eager to see the man who has fallen in love with their daughter!

Achola is happy, hers is grass to grace,
It can be seen clearly on her radiant face,
Did they not mock her and call her ugly names?
Has she not beaten them in their own games?

Who will marry Achola?
''Onge'' they chorused in a rehearsed order,
It had become a common village song,
Little did they know that love is a boundless feeling that is so strong!

Greet For Me Your Sister

Good morning my love,

How is your morning?

I know it is too early to disturb you with calls but I just wanted to check on you,

By the way, how is that sister of yours?

No, not the married one,

The other one who recently cleared high school,

Yes, Jessica, how is she?

Greet her for me.

Good afternoon my love,

How is the going?

What have you taken for lunch?

Githeri tena? Si unapenda Githeri,

Me I ate Matumbo/Ugali,

I am good and works iko tu sawa,

By the way, how is Jessica?

She went to the market?

Oh, when she comes back, greet her for me.

Good evening my love,

How have you been?

What are you up to?

You are coming? That is great,

Yes, I am in the house,

What about Jessica, is she not coming with you?

No, I do not mind her coming,

Oh, she has started her evening classes? Which college?

Oh, okay, sawa tu,

You pass my greetings to her,

No, I do not have her number,

No problem, you can text me her number I tell her myself,

Thank you love,

See you.

I love you too.

(image credits: thisisthenewsatschool.wordpress.com)

Uncle Odhiambo

Uncle Odhiambo

Whenever I want to sleep with a widow,
I enter her house through the back window,
Whenever I enter through the front door,
I usually find a child playing on the sitting-room floor,
And she calls me Uncle Odhiambo,
And I hate that name!

''Where is your mother?''
''She has gone to the shop.''
''When she comes back,tell her I was here.Do you understand?''
''She told me to tell you that you should wait for her.What did you buy for me uncle?''
''Oh,I bought for you a baby doll.I will bring it for you tomorrow.Is that okay?''
''Okay.'' and she goes back to do her maths assignment,
And so I am forced to sit there and watch her add 6+2=9

And when her mother comes,
She comes along with her friend who ends up staying till half past ten,
After supper,she officially introduces me to her friend,
''Meet Mr.Odhiambo.He is...ahhhh,,you know"
But the daughter interrupts her,
''He is called Uncle Odhiambo.''
The mother corrects her,''He is not your uncle.He is your new father!''
And she starts crying,
I watch helplessly as mother and daughter hold each other,
My phone beeps and I stand to leave,
Because my wife has texted that she needs some tea leaves!

(image credits: BBC News)

This Poem Is Under Constant CCTV Surveillance

This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

Do not read it out aloud,

This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

Sharing it without the author’s consent is not allowed.

This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

Do not recite it anywhere,

Not even in Khartoum, not even in France,

Get the author’s consent first because it is just fair.

This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

When you read it, keep your voice low,

And under no circumstance,

Should you comment in the blank space below.

This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

Do not turn it into a song,

It is meant to be read or spoken softly to a quiet audience,

So leave it where it belong

 This poem is under constant CCTV surveillance,

You are prohibited from entering it into a literary contest,

Do not use this poem to solicit funds from the public, the government or NGO,

Do not use this poem as a slogan for any kind of political protest,

Just read it and go,

This poem is under radar,

Do not mess around with it unless you want to commit murder,

I mean, unless you want to murder your writing career,

Do not dare to copy and paste it somewhere,

Because it is encrypted with the anti-plagiarism software.

(image credits: knowyourmeme.com)

Introduction To Sin

Am I not a supportive and understanding husband? When my wife requested me to attend to her clients because she was attending her cousin’s wedding in Kiambu, did I not wake up at 4.30 am to help her prepare for the journey? You know, she was traveling with Ted and Ted is quite a piece of work. It is hard to get him inside the wash basin and even harder to get him outside the basin. By around 5.30 am they were all set to go. I walked them to the bus stage and on coming back to the house, I decided not to go back to sleep. Instead I checked my mail and updated by blog.

Am I not a hardworking man? By 6.30 am I was already at the shop, setting things up. Being a market day, customers started strolling in as early as 7am to get the most out of their shopping experiences. Many of the customers I dealt with were women, either pregnant or new mothers, because the shop sells baby clothes. From light outfits like socks,vests,tops,underwear,feeders,dresses,tights,shorts,trousers to heavyweights like baby shawls, sleeping bags,sweaters,jumpers,track suites and much more.

At around 12 noon, I received a call from a buddy of mine who had been trying to connect me with a certain jobo.He had booked an appointment with one of his closest friend who had promised us something. They wanted me to meet them in town at exactly 3pm and so I decided to close the shop at 1pm.I rushed back to the house for a quick shower and change of clothes. By 2.15 pm I was seated inside a matatu headed to town. You know how hard it is to wait for someone in town? I hate waiting for someone so I also did not want to keep them waiting for me.Does the bible not say that we should do unto others what we would like done unto us? And besides, I was the one asking for a favor, not them and if there was someone to lose, it would be me.

Jam! Jam! Jam! Traffic jam! Even on a Saturday yawa! Me I am tired of this Nairobi jam owada.3pm we were still stuck in South C.I texted my friend that I would arrive a little late, around 3.30pm and if they could find it in their hearts to bear with me, then they should. My friend responded that there was no problem as he was not even in town yet. He suggested we meet at 4pm.That was a relief to me.

There is always this thing about traffic jam.That when you are in a hurry, it gets worse. When you are not in a hurry, it clears up very fast. Or just when you give up waiting and you decide to alight, that is when it starts moving, making you feel a little bit sorry for yourself. 

Now that my new target was to get to town by 4pm, the jam cleared very first and we got to town by 3.20pm.Now it was my turn to wait.40 minutes was such a long waiting time for me that, to shorten it, I decided to buy the Saturday Nation newspaper. After finding a space on one of the city benches, right in front of the Kenya Cinema plaza, Moi Avenue, I settled down for a long read. My eyes first caught the story of Oyoo Mboya, a fellow poet who got involved with a rogue publisher.Titled,”Save upcoming writers from rogue and greedy publishers,” the article, penned by Clive Olero,narrates the sad state that upcoming writers like me find themselves in while trying to get published. The next page captured the journey of another performing poet, Wangui Wangare (Qui Qarre).The article reminded me of when I interviewed her at Kenya National Theatre about two years ago.

At exactly 4pm, I received a call from my friend. He was caught up in a staff-meeting and so he requested me to bear with him. It was a hard thing to do but I had no choice. Two hours later, I was still seated on this bench. My eyes were getting teary from too much reading and my buttocks were sore. It was not until 6.30 pm when we finally met. We crossed the road to the other side of the avenue and entered Lazarus’s restaurant for a chat. We were roommates in Campus back in the day and so we had a lot of catching up to do. The other guy who was to join us called and said he will join us later, at around 8pm.For two hours, we reminisced on our campus days and updated each other on the current happenings in our lives. Our current projects and future plans. Which of our friends are married to whom? What work are they doing? Who is breaking the corporate ceiling and who is losing it? Lucky enough, we never talked of who is dead because there were not such news or rumors of the same.

8.45pm, my wife called me that she had reached town. Accompanied by my friend, I went to meet her hapo Kenya National Archives. We then strolled to Railways station and when she had safely boarded, we strolled back to the city Centre to wait for the other guy.He had called to apologize that he would be running late. After taking tea at Lazaru’s, we thought this second round of waiting we might do a lot better with a bottle of Tusker, maybe? Yes? No? We then entered Highlands Platinumz club along Moi Avenue just in time to catch Manchester City scoring a goal against Manchester United to make the scores 2:1.The club was too noisy for our liking but a bouncer came to our rescue just when we were turning back to descend the stairs. He ushered us into a private lounge where we ended up paying Kshs 600 for two Tusker bottles.

The call from the guy we were waiting for came at around 10.05 pm.

“Nimefika town, mko wapi?”

“Highlands Platinumz, Moi Avenue.”

“Highlands Platinumz?? Kwani nyi ni madem?”

“Kwanini?”

“Hiyo ni club ya madem.Kujeni Fareinheit.Mtanipata hapo.”

“Sawa.”

Walking from Highlands Platinumz to Fahrenheit reminded me of how, as campus students with raging hormones, we used to hop from one club to another in Eldoret town. That was close to seven years ago when we possessed free souls. Now we are grown-ups with young families to take care of. All we want is a quiet place to enjoy our drinks and go home, say at around 1pm.But club Fahrenheit was just as noisy as Highlands Platinumz. You have to extend your ears close to another person’s mouth for you to hear what they are saying. With that kind of environment, our main topic of discussion (about me finding a job) was given little time. It was, perhaps, better that way, because as time went by, we were increasingly getting inebriated and that would lessen the seriousness of our talks.

When the clock ticked 11.30 pm, this guy turned his seat to face our backs. Out of curiosity I also turned to have a look at what was going on behind our backs and behold, a woman, with only a thong and a bra, was wounding her lithe body around a shiny pole! Like a rattle snake, she climbed up the pole and then came down in a spiral motion, her hands stretched and her legs zigzagged on the pole to maintain her balance. When she reached the floor, she turned her head up, like swimmer coming out of the water and then spread her legs wide to expose her clean shaven midrib for like three seconds before closing them. Bending in such way that her bare buttocks faced us, she then started shaking those buttocks super-rapidly as if they were connected to a conductor plugged inside a socket and then the power, running from an alternating current supply, turned on.Or was I the one turned on?

(image credits: fanpop.com)

Negotiations in Yimbo

Elders, the reason why I want to marry your daughter is because her breasts are not pointed sideways like of all the other women,

Hers are sharply pointed forward,

She is not particularly beautiful but she has beautiful particulars.

Elders, your daughter has muscled thighs that can carry pregnancy for even more than nine months,

She speaks too much and that is good for my quiet house,

Elders of Yimbo allow me to marry your daughter,

I will take good care of her,

I will wash her with thick ‘omena’ soup mixed with ‘obuolo.’

Elders, I am a good man of excellent reputation,

I drink less on weekdays but on weekends I swallow beer properly like a pregnant shark,

I am not a violent man,

I will only slap your daughter once in a while, for no apparent reason, just to remind her who is the head of the house,

Elders, did our forefathers not beat up their wives as a show of love?

Elders of Yimbo, let me take your daughter as my first wife,

I will treat her like a real ‘mikai’,

Even after I will marry my second and third wives, my love for her will not dwindle,

Because of her, and through her and with her I will uplift the face of this backward village,

The first ever aeroplane to visit Siaya will land in this village when we shall return, with glamour and pride, from America with her!

Yes, if you allow me, I will take your daughter to the land of Obama,

The dryness on her skin and the cracks on her feet will disappear just like the paw paw fruits disappeared in Alego,

I will oil her body with Aloe Vera and sew her rough kinky hair with horse’s tail till her hair will become smoother than Jaduong Jaramogi Oginga’s fly whisk!

Elders of Yimbo just nod your heads in agreement and I shall wash your shiny bald heads with’ busaa’ and ‘chang’aa’ for the father in law,

I already know he only takes that one,

Nod your heads elders of Yimbo and witness eight goats and eleven chickens being driven from my father’s home to here!

(image credits:globalpressjournal.com)