Made in Heaven

My girlfriend does not just sit there,

She knows that we can not eat air,

She goes to work and comes back with rice,

She invests her money to earn interest,she is wise.

My girlfriend dresses decently, she does not leave her chest bare,

She maintains her nails clean and shampoos her hair,

She soaks herself in warm water bath,lathered with perfumed soap,

She clips her pubic hair,and maintains minimal growth.

My girlfriend calls to check on my mother,they laugh on the phone,

She cracks jokes with my father,and plays with our last born,

She advices my brothers and shops with my sisters,

A match made in heaven,we both have 'Aquarius' as our lucky stars.

My girlfriend prepares sumptuous meal,she is an ideal woman,

She packs some food in a tin, and gives to the watchman,

She donates some of her pairs of shoes to orphaned kids,

She finds favor from those who admire her generous deeds.

My girlfriend is a gift from God,she does not wilt,

She surprises me with precious gifts,

She joins me to play poker,

And she sits all night long with me watching soccer.

My girlfriend comes to bed naked, and brushes her full breasts on my back,

Her breasts have no milk yet, just pure honey that gets my mouth stuck,

Her vagina made me a poet,I have written so many quotes,

And a thousand poems about it, check my notes.

Image credits (www.pinterest.com)

No Any Other Business

I am a bad, terrible employee, I must confess,

I attended a staff meeting today,

Before it started, I almost shouted, ‘Any Other Business?’’

But I reminded myself to be humble and obey!

As the chair of the meeting rattled this and that,

I was thinking of the wet lips of the girl I kissed last night,

They were sweet, soft and as I remembered every detail I felt my drowsy eyes closing,

I pinched myself and reminded myself to stop joking!

And so I sat upright and lurched my chest forward,

Only to hear the speaker saying, ‘Thank you for listening, I have nothing more to add.’’

As the next speaker took over with jest,

My mind drifted to my wife’s full breasts,

My heart sank and I realized that I have really missed her,

It is the present speaker who startled me when he said, ‘’That is all I have observed so far.’’

I nodded in approval as if I did not have any doubt,

While in reality I did not know what the fuck he was talking about!

As the next person stood to speak,

I was now becoming tired and sick,

I wanted to shout, ‘’Are we not just a bunch of broke, frustrated people?’’

But then again I did not want to step on other’s ego,

And so my mind drifted back to the plot of the novel I was reading,

As the others continued with the staff meeting.

As the next speaker took over, I wanted to ask her,

‘’May I please have a glass of cold Tusker?’’

But then I remembered the chair cautioning, ‘No more excessive drinking!’’

And I was like, what the hell am I thinking?

My mind then drifted to Science fiction; satellites, electromagnetic waves and swinging pendulum,

Until when I heard the chair, almost in a groan, shouting,’’Next Agendum!’’

When it finally reached the time for A.O.B,

I started thinking of what the future has in store for me,

And right there and then I resolved to stop living a lie,

I will not hold on to this job any longer, I must testify,

It is time to risk and move on to turn my passion into profession,

I am a bad employee, I must confess,

This meeting is adjourned, there being no any other business!

Curriculum Vitae

Introduction

I am Ogwal Obwolo Abuoch,a son of Alego ‘tat yien’,Siaya Kababa,

My father,an assistant chief,died three years ago from an overdose of chang’aa which my mother brewed,

I have six brothers and four sisters,

All my sisters are married in Siaya and none of my brothers is married though they have fathered many children some of which we do not know where they are,

My mother,when she is not brewing chang’aa,she is serving in the church,’Roho Maler.’

Personal information

I do not have a driving license but I know how to ride a bicycle and a motorbike,

My first wife is a farmer,

She was recently diagnosed with tubular papilo vaginosis,

We do not know what that is so she usually takes paracetamol,

My second wife has suffered two miscarriages,

She thinks it is the first wife who is responsible for her miscarriages and so she blames her and I think she is right but there is nothing I can do because there is no evidence,

Apart from the last born who sometimes manages to score 230 marks out of the possible 500 marks,all my other four children are daft,

They have taken after their mother’s stupidity,

I have three boxers,all black in colour and one white vest,

I also own a drinking cap,

I wear it everyday because,as you can guess right,I drink every single day!

Educational background

I do not have so much to say here except that I dropped out of school in class eight second term,

It is around that time that I met and fell in love with my first wife and when she got pregnant we decided to drop out of school together,

My favourite subject was Christian Religious Education so I can work as a watchman because I know God will do the work for me,

They say if it isn’t for God’s protection, the night watchman labours in vain!

I have attended short courses on H.I.V/Aids and male circumcision at Achae Rach health center,

Of course I did not sign up for the circumcision surgery but they gave me a loaf of bread and a bottle of soda nonetheless,

I do not know how to operate a computer but I have seen one at Kogelo photocopy and printing shop,

I do not have a driving licence but I know how to ride a bicycle and a motorbike,

In Siaya we call it ‘peng’ but my buddy who came from Watamu last month after a failed attempt at hooking up with a rich white lady with hopes of going to Italy told me the Swahili people call it ‘Bajaji”

Hehe,does it not sound funny to you?

‘Haki watu wa Mombasa watua mimi na kichekeso!’

Work Experience

Let me make this crystal clear, I hate work,

In fact, I rarely work,

My two wives work and feed me so I have never seen the need to disturb myself with work,

But I have tried my hands on a few things to have my own money,

I used to slaughter cows during funerals and they pay me,

Sometimes they also contract me to dig children’s graves,

That I work slowly and whenever I am contracted to dig adult’s graves I rarely finish in time,

Sometimes I do not finish at all,

As of my strength, I know how to heckle and cause chaos and mayhem, In other words I am a hooligan for hire,

By the way I am also a thief,

I steal people’s wives but I do not marry them,

I just have a thing for someone else’s wife,

It gives me a feeling of accomplishment,

I think I inherited that behavior from my grandfather Owila,

He too used to steal people’s wives,

The only difference is that he never returned them,

He had a motto, ’Goods once stolen are not returnable.’

As for my weakness, I am a very impatient man,

I cannot wait to get paid or laid, whichever comes first,

If my money delays, money that I have worked hard for, I go berserk,

I do not know the meaning of that but I know it is not a good thing to experience,

I once killed because my money delayed for a day,

I also do not like idle things,

Whenever I see or encounter an idle thing, especially money, I pick it up and put it into good use,

I am a reformer!

Lastly, I do not need any reference!

I know more about me than anybody else!

Image credits: www.businesstech.co.za

Preparing a Better Place

When the bell for lunch was rung at 12.45 pm, we had only 1 hour and 15 minutes to run from St. Anne’s Ahero Primary school to “Kambi”, a Luo pronunciation of “Company.” Kambi, the compound which housed employees of Ministry of water and Natural Resources, was located approximately 2 kilometers from “Kafadha,” another name for St.Annes’s Ahero primary school. This nickname came about because our school (together with Ahero Girls secondary school and St. Peters nursery school) was partly sponsored by Fathers of the Catholic Church around which all these other premises were based.

The five of us were studying in the same primary school. To beat the deadline of reporting back to school at 2pm for the afternoon session, which was mandatory for all pupils in upper primary, we would run all the way home. Once at home, our elder brother would quickly delegate duties. He would, for example, instruct me to light the jiko while my younger brother would be tasked with washing the utensils. My elder sister would cut the vegetables, onions, tomatoes and other paraphernalia which would be used to make the stew. The two younger sisters would be spared. They would play hide and seek as we busied ourselves to beat the 2pm deadline.After all, they were in the lower primary and were therefore in no hurry since they were not allowed to go back for the afternoon session.

After dakuon oseyienyo, my elder bother would cook the Ugali and thereafter my elder sister would quickly make the stew. Then we would all assemble in the kitchen and eat as fast as we could. Once our tummies were full, we would run back to school as fast as we could.Many a times, we would beat the 2pm deadline by only a few seconds.

We would arrive just when the bell indicating the start of the afternoon session is rung. Even before we could settle down and fun away the sweat, the tough Mathematics teacher would enter the class with a long stick. He would parade all those who failed the morning assignments in front of the class and give them a beating of their lives. Who does not remember Mr.Hongo?  Sometimes I would be among the poor victims. In fact, I was a regular victim of Mr.Hongo’s wrath. This is because I would spend the better part of the morning lesson thinking how I would run all the way home to light a jiko than to concentrate on the formula he was trying to explain on the board.

It never used to be this way. I was one of the best pupils in Mathematics and Mr. Hongo kind of loved me. Well, you know you can never say for sure that Mr.Hongo loved anyone. He wanted us to score 100% in Mathematics and so, those of us who tried hard to score 88% still faced the wrath of Mr.Hongo with equal measure. Mr.Hongo did not want 88%. Mr.Hongo wanted 100% .Nothing more and nothing less. But when I started failing in mathematics, Mr.Hongo kind of got worried. He would wonder what has come over me. One day he called me in his office and when he asked me what is happening, I simply told him that it was my mother. That since my mother relocated to Siaya and left us alone in Ahero, life had become a bit difficult for us.

It was not my mother’s wish to leave us alone in Ahero. In fact, her moving to Siaya was for the good of all of us. She relocated to Siaya to prepare a new home for us. It was more like the Biblical analogy where Jesus died and ascended to heaven to prepare a place for those who will accept HIM as their personal saviors or how does the Bile tell this story of preparing a better place in heaven? Yes, she relocated to Siaya to build a new home for us. In Luo, we call it “Goyo Dala” or beating the home, if you like.

Before my mother relocated to Siaya, life was very easy for us. I would not think of running all the way to Kambi to light a jiko or wash the utensils while Mr.Hongo was in class. I would concentrate on what he was doing on the chalkboard and when he gave us assignments, I scored 100%. When the bell for lunch break was rung, the five of us would walk leisurely, sometimes even stopping along the way to play hide and seek or watch dead bodies floating in the swollen River Nyando. We would reach home at around 1.20 pm and find hot Ugali and scrambled eggs on the table. After eating, we would play for like 10 minutes or so before embarking on our journey back to school. In fact, my elder brother even had time to take a short nap before going back to school.

In the evening, we would come back home and find our mother has done everything for us. Beans would be boiling on the jiko to be taken with rice for supper. The only work she would instruct us to do was to fetch water from the borehole and wash ourselves. Whoever did not shower would not be allowed to eat supper.

*

Fast-forward, my mother is now a “japounj Kanisa.” She presides over mass at the local ACK, St. Luke’s Rabuor Church, Diocese of Maseno West. She successfully prepared for us a home in Siaya and now she is preparing a home for us in heaven by praying for our souls.

(image credits: www.godrealthings.co.za)

The Call

The call

“Ben is calling! Ben is calling!” Grace screamed from the dining room, attracting everyone’s attention.

Her mother, who was preparing supper, left the steaming meat stew and rushed out of the kitchen as she wipes her wet hands on the “leso” that was wrapped around her broad aged waist. Her father, who was reading Saturday Newspaper in the living room, put the newspaper on top of the table, searched for slippers under the table with his legs, and made his way to the adjacent dining room. Daisy, Grace’s younger sister, stormed out of her bedroom, where she was absorbed in her homework assignment, and made a dash towards the dining room, almost toppling over the thick glass table and the heavy leather sofa sets in the living room.

When everyone had gathered around the laptop in the dining room, Grace carefully dragged the cursor and pointed it at the “Receive call” option. She then tapped it gently and everyone waited with bated breath as the call connected. When it indicated” Skype call connected,” she was the first one to say “Hello.” The response from the other end came faintly and so she repeated, this time louder,” Hello Ben, Can you hear me?”

“Hello Grace, I can hear you. How is everyone at home?” this time Ben was loud and clear.

“We are all fine brother, how about you?”

“I am great. Fairing on pretty well,” Ben said as he sipped his coffee.

“How is America?” Daisy and Grace asked, almost in unison.

*

Bernard, or Ben as they were fond of calling him, had travelled to the United States six months ago to study Theology at St. Benedict’s college of Theology in Colorado State. He was enrolled on a Scholarship programme which was initiated by the college to offer assistance to African students who were willing to study Theology. This was the first time he was calling back home to let his family know how he is doing.Ben had become a source of joy for the family since he took up the scholarship programme.

Five years ago, Ben was a thorn in the flesh. He had caused the family great pain and loss. Ben was a quiet child and his primary and secondary education life was quite uneventful. He was an average student. It therefore came as a great surprise to his parents and teachers when he scored a mean grade of A in his Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education examinations.

When Ben joined the University of Nairobi to study medicine, everything looked up for the close-knit family of three children. Earlier the same year, his father had gotten a promotion in the Ministry of Roads and Public Works where he worked as an engineer. His mother had opened up a small coffee restaurant in the up market Westlands area and it was picking up at a faster rate than she had anticipated. Grace, the second born, had just finished High school, and when she was not helping her mother in the restaurant, she was spending most of her time on the laptop at home. Her mother preferred she stayed at home because her young waist was broadening and her sharp pointed breasts were piercing through her bra, attracting wolves of men and she did not like it. At least not now. Daisy was doing well in school. At class three her spoken and written English was just epic! Her dream was to study journalism at the University and become a news anchor.

Things started spiraling down the hill two years after Ben joined UoN. He started drinking and staying out till late at night. Sometimes he would spend the whole weekend out, drinking with friends. He would only show up on Monday mornings smelling like a brewery! That academic year, he got four referrals. His drinking became heavier and heavier. Maybe it was the heavy responsibility put on his head as a first born son and the fear of disappointing his parents that ate into his soul and left a gaping hole that only alcohol could fill up. Maybe it was the peer pressure that comes with second year University students that had gotten a strong hold of him. He would come back to the house at 3 a.m., dead drunk. His mother would sob till her eyes would turn red. During such moments, it was Grace who would open the door for him and guide his wobbling legs to his room in their four bedroom apartment in the first sprawling Langata estate. His father tried to maintain a cool mien amidst all these but it was obvious the situation was taking a toll on him. He had tried talking some sense into his son’s head but it was all in vain. He seemed lost on what to do with him.

By the end of Ben’s third year in college, everything turned upside down. His drinking got worse. He was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. He was discontinued from the University after he failed half of the units he took that academic year. He had also skipped quite a number of lectures and missed some examinations. The last stroke that broke the camel’s back came on the night of February 14^th 2016. Ben, in his drunken stupor, veered off Langata road, rolled several times and landed in a ditch. He was driving the family car. He was coming from a music concert at Carnivore Restaurant. His girlfriend died on the spot. He was rushed to the Nairobi Women’s Hospital in Nairobi West by well-wishers. The car was written off by the DFC insurance company.

Ben was discharged after four months. He had to walk with the aid of scratchers for two months before he could stand on his two feet again. His father literally emptied the family savings. All of it. This accident marked the turning point in Ben’s life. When he recovered fully, he suggested that he would want to spend the rest of his life serving the Lord. He enrolled for Bible study classes at Bible House along Langata road. It was while he was here that he heard of a scholarship opportunity at St. Benedict’s college in the US. He applied and as luck would have it, his application was accepted. His passport took a month to be ready. His Visa took two months. By the time he checked in at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, history was made in the U.S. Donald Trump had beaten Hillary Clinton in the presidential elections. During his campaigns, Donald Trump had pledged to deport many African back to Africa. The future did not look bright not only for Ben but also for all other African immigrants in the US.

His father was particular worried. He had keenly followed the US elections and he was sure Donald Trump meant all that he said during campaigns. He knew his son’s ambitions to study Theology in the US would not materialize with Trump as the President. He kept his fingers crossed. One month had passed and there was no news of deportation. The second and third month also passed smoothly like water under a bridge.

The news of 200 Kenyans deported from America would only hit the news five months after Trump was declared the President. Ben’s father followed the news keenly with a heavy heart. It therefore came as a relief to him when he confirmed that Ben was not among the 200 Kenyans who were deported. But something still nagged him.Ben had not called back home to say how he was doing. They had tried his number several times but it was not going through. He was not replying his E-mails either.

Had he gotten himself in trouble? Did he manage to start his Theology lessons? Was he safe? These were questions that went unanswered for the first six months that Ben had stayed in the US.

*

His father cleared his throat and moved closer to the laptop screen.

“How are you Bernard? How is the situation over there? Are you safe? He asked

“I am safe. We have not had any problem so far.”

“How is the weather?” his mother chipped in,

“America is very cold right now. I have missed you people.”

“How is school?” His father enquired.

“School is fine,” he said as everyone listened attentively,” In fact, I have even started serving in church. I serve as an altar boy. I like it.”

“His calling to serve the Lord is true.” His father, nodding his head, whispered to no one in particular.

All of them were overjoyed.

By Daniel Many owiti
manydaniels09@yahoo.com

Image credits: www.christiantimes.com

The Sympathy Bill

Mr. Speaker sir,

Honorable members,

I stand here to introduce, for discussion, a bill which I call “Sympathy Bill,”

As a Member of Parliament representing Kodhier constituency for the third term,

I can attest to the fact that MPs go through a lot,

It is hard being an MP in this Country,

Apart from our families, we also have our constituents to feed,

It is from these ill-treatments that I propose this “sympathy Bill,”

This Bill seeks to sympathize with us and offer us reasonable salaries and other rewards which I will explain in details.

Mr. Speaker,

Despite the hard work we do, we are paid peanuts,

Kshs 580,000 basic salary plus Kshs 340,000 allowances comes to total of Kshs 920,000 per month,

What can Kshs 920,000 per month do to a person of our stature?

With this kind of salary, how long will it take us to buy our dream fleet of cars?

The car grant of Kshs 5 Million that we are given after every five years cannot enable us to buy cars of our dreams,

A good fuel guzzler goes for Kshs 30 Million,

Four of them comes to a total of Kshs 120 Million,

I therefore propose in the “Sympathy Bill” that our car grants be increased to Kshs 120 Million for each MP,

And salaries should be increased to Kshs 10 Million per month,

What difference will it make anyway?

Kenyans will burn tyres, throw stones and even smear themselves with blood from slaughtered pigs for a few weeks and then go back to their normal lives,

Those who consider themselves learned will write scathing articles on the newspapers and then what?

Has opinion article ever killed anyone of you?

Did our head of state not say that these newspapers are for wrapping meat?

 Mr. Speaker,

Honourable members,

Last week, we increased our pension by 700 per cent,

Now those of us who will lose elections in future will go home with 18 Million each in retirement benefits,

This was a good attempt but I still do not agree with the proposed amount,

I am a Christian and in the book of Revelation Chapter 3, verse 16, and I quote,

“So, because you are lukewarm-neither hot nor cold-I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

The Bible does not want us to be lukewarm,

So about our salaries, rewards, pension and other allowances, we should either reduce them to as low as Kshs 120,000 per month, to the level of medical doctors and lecturers,

Or increase them to a figure which is not lukewarm,

I thus propose, in the “Sympathy Bill,” a pension of Kshs 1 Billion for each retired MP,

You all know how cold it can get when one is outside the government,

We need enough money to insulate our old bones from this cold.

Mr. Speaker sir,

MPs have been on the receiving end of many angry Kenyans for too long,

We have been called names,

Pigs, hyenas, thieves, among other head-swelling insults,

The media have portrayed us in the negative light since time immemorial,

Cartoonists and authors have mocked us in their works of art and writings respectively, for too long,

We are at the center of memes and stale jokes in social media,

When shall Kenyans ever sympathize with us?

Many of us have died without receiving even a drop of sympathy from Kenyans,

We are running out of time,

If no Kenyan will sympathize with us then it is time we self-sympathize,

I therefore urge all members to support this “Sympathy Bill,”

Let us clear the government coffers once and for all,

Let us see what will happen when the economy of Kenya goes down to its knees,

Sometimes it is better to clear the stock and start afresh.

(image credits: (photo/ www.businessdailyafrica.com) Casso's cartoon at Hii Chapta show.  

Pre-sex Conversations (Part One

Otieno

My people call your people “Jorabuond,”

It means “Potato people,”

I guess it stems from the fact that you people like potatoes,

I hear you add potatoes to every meal you cook,

I hope you will not mutilate my fish stew with Irish potatoes,

Anyway, like I told you before,

Next week I will take you to Siaya,

I am sure everything will go well,

It is high time we involve our relatives.

Wairimu

I am still worried about going to meet your people,

You know there is this unspoken and sometimes openly spoken hatred your people have towards my people,

I do not want to be humiliated,

I do not want to sit there amidst people who smile at me while deep in their hearts they wish I could just pack my things and leave for good,

My people have this notion that your people hate us,

It is a notion we grew up with,

Also, my people call your people, “Ihii”

It means “uncircumcised,”

By the way, are you circumcised?

Otieno

Well, you are just about to find out,

What are your expectations though?

What if I am not circumcised?

Will you break up with me?

And talking about private parts,

My people say your women have soggy vaginas,

That it is because of too much “waru” that you people eat,

Is it true?

Is it true that your people have watery vaginas?

Wairimu

Well, you are about to find out,

There is an African saying that goes, “Seeing is believing,”

And by the way,

This is basically the first time I am getting completely naked in front of a grown up man,

A Luo man for that matter,

The first time I had sex I was in form one,

I was still young and stupid,

The boy was equally immature,

We did not even remove our clothes,

He just pushed my pant aside and slid his tiny manhood inside,

Only to pour everything outside the mouth of my vagina,

My people say your people have big logs,

I hope you will be gentle on me.

(image credits/ www.drawinglics.com)

My Rod Model

My name is Joan, I am in form one, My rod model is my Physics teacher Mr. Sylvester, He has taught me many kinds of metal rods and their uses.

Mr.Sylvester has banned collection of assignments, He has instructed each student to bring her assignment on her own so that he can monitor the progress of individual student closely, When it is my turn, he usually closes the door and says I am a weak student and so I need extra attention, He then proceeds to open his tool box and show me the uses of various Physics apparatus.

Mr.Sylvester is my rod model because he has taught me force and pressure, He told me he will be giving me private tuition every evening in the Physics laboratory, That the other students should not know about our private tuition lest they become jealous, But my deskmate Linet also told me Mr.Sylvester usually gives her some private tuition, And so I went and asked him, "Mr.Sylvester, do you also teach Linet about Pressure? " He told me not to worry, That he did it because he was applying the principle of Pascal, "Do you recall what the Principle states? " he asked, Yes Sir, it states that pressure applied at one point of an enclosed liquid is distributed equally to all the other parts of the liquid.

Mr.Sylvester also taught me about riveting,
The process of joining two or more metals together,
He said you hammer a rivet into a metal hole when the metals are still hot,
Then you leave it to cool,
"Do you understand? " he asked,
I said yes,

"Do you know human beings can also be riveted? " he asked again,

I asked, "how? " He said,"We apply the same process. If you do not mind.can we try it? " I was so excited, I said,"Yes please! " "But we need to get hot first. " he interjected, I asked,"So are we going to light a bunsen burner to warm ourselves or something? " He said a bunsen burner will not be necessary, He then moved closer, cupped my buttocks and pressed a kiss on my lips, My whole body became hot instantly, He then riveted me and we were joined together at the hips! What a magic!

(photo/croozefm.com)