a ‘mourning’ unlike this

October 31, 2008 at 5:31 pm | Posted in d8ingame, he-motions, life, msheflani | 9 Comments
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she prepares a great meal before me

the aroma leads me into sin

for whomever smells sausages and hot coffee in the morning,

hath already committed breakfast with it in their heart


….the thought sends smile to my lips and when i come to, she is standing before me armed with a monalisa one.

i turn my goggy body over and she bends down low to whisper: Wake up sleepyhead!

oh, the dimples and her jasmine shampoo, the sated look in her eyes confirm to me one thing: jana nilihesabika!

i mean, the whole ‘standard‘ 42 miles?

*******

the alarm knocks me back to reality and my eyelides riot at my attempt to open them. my stomach is grumbling like a concrete crusher – oh, jana i swallowed a quick meal of pornographic chick-hen and deep fried viazis. this morning, i have to bear with ‘carried forwards’ of the same, cold, cold for my microwave is on leave…

wait, where are my legs, i think as i turn, uhm, wots up with this mound on my duvet? it takes several seconds for it to register.

i cant help but chuckle at my version of American Pie. or is Kenyan Campus  Pie?

oh, that mound?

he he he ..hehe hehe.

never mind, it’s the priviledge of the smallest of infants.

an early morning one?

i am not an early riser though, and it’s with the greatest efforts that i rummage my sleep savaged self towards the freezer, the only functioning  electronic ‘cookery’ – the Wa-jiko ‘farted’ its last gas juzi.

the feverish greenish digits of the bedside clock scowl at me: 08:17h, as i open the (micro) freezer…taking a little glance at my boxer.

it’s now a y-front.

a sudden yawn catches up with my jaws and as i inevitably stretch, the free hand reaches inside.

kwarakwarakwarakwara….

S.A.V.A.G.E!:my thought are conscious of the unconscious ‘s-kwara-bbing’.

A strong he-motion in me sends tendrils of sleep parking and i so wish for a morning unlike this.

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j-‘squart’ sports day manenos

October 29, 2008 at 1:21 pm | Posted in randommoments, whatsmakingnews | 4 Comments
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i was about to rush over to class when i bumped into savvy’s post and i couldn’t keep this lingering any longer in the ‘drafts’ bin.
yaaaaani, this w/end there was the KRFUEA* 7 aside fixtures at Ngong’ but for more reasons than 1, my dice landed on JKUAT sports day at Juja. and yes i wasn’t as disappointed – especially towards the end…save for the moments when nothing was really happening and you wondered around the flat compound like a zombie. or is it nzembi (no pun!) he he.
by the way, this Uni, being the ultimate technology meltdown(our Massa-chew-set), wouldn’t we have seen a lil’ bit of sophistication in the organisation? i mean, at least, have participating teams….like on printed paper?
well, i aint a sportsguy, as savvy guessed (i retired from proffessional weight lifting some years back;)… rather, am giving sports reporting a try.
and its really ‘trying’ especially coz i was/am biased- i love b ball to bits.
now, on arrival, i was welcomed by a click of mogekeyo chicks, animatedly chatting away in the dialect….welcome to gashororo, i laughed at me.
Claysbar were the official sponsors and they had duly decorated the place with their banners and the hosts, refas and sundry wore ’em branded caps (campuserians and free t-shirts!).

the games kicked on a slow pace, yeah, the boring pleriminaries and USIU, Catho, KEMU, Daystar, MKU, KU, Egerton, Maseno,Strath, hosts Jkuat and some collez were there to be counted. There was T.T., Bball, Folli’ bo’, Lawn Tennis and i i saw some guys in Tae- Kwo Ndo gear.
Bball, as sure, attracted the biggest crowd but Folli’ Bo’ which i dont like as much took the mantle from it in the end. It was full of drama as ball was bobbed, smashed right into opponent faces…as dust rose amidst cheers. I dint karibia but i think i saw some Maseno guy jump 10 feet above the crowd.

As for basketball, the ‘real heat’ on the court was generated in the quarterfinals.

It was in this crowd that i bumped into a TTY (tired third year) from jkuat and we struck some rapport. He was so eager to share that soon, he was all over with talk about the rigours and tribulations of the architectural course he was pursuing (just read nzembi’s post) It made me feel like i was in holiday camp.

“ati passion? i had it when i started off but it faded soon as the real course began. all i have left are balls and courage to complete the course!”

i was agony uncle now, carefully examining my troubled nephew…and are there chicks in this course?

“mjamaa, dame akifika second year arch, wewe na yeye ni wanaume wawili!” /when a chick is in second year in architecture, you and her are two men you both feel nothing!/

tis from here that Andru (his name) ranted on the totally disastrous ratio at ‘Juja boys’ (as he called it)…and i thought it cool to pull out my ‘PIMP biz card’ (told him we got a lot of ass where i come from, enough for us and the needy!) and man, i said it as joke but dude chomoad his phone ready for a hook up!

the cheers from the court distracted our convo…JKUAT ‘alumni’ were shining ( they had two teams, the other were ‘straycats‘ who were banished to the alley, ha!). oh, and did i tell u how you’d expect a bball court to be all about babes and ball stunts? ahem! the court was in between two hostels (or halls of (male) residents) and like street bball, guys hanged over from everywhere (fire escapes..). Strath guys, like high school kids, were all over this supposedly new ride (a comely tour bus – those shuttles like Davanu tours that u usually find on the Nai- Arusha route.

the game was between USIU and the alumni. they tried, but the crowd notwithstanding, were whipped proper and the much better USIU-ians sailed to the finals. by the way, if Arse-n-all play beautiful football, methink USIU plays beautiful bball. but there was this JKUAT bballer, tall, lanky, light with shaggy hair who played real well and smart.

he was deservedly applauded.

the finals were between KEMU and USIU. by this time i was making rounds in the hostels that are so closely packed it reminded me of a book i read on those NAZI concentration camps in Austwitch!

Later, i headed to Gashororo, turned and dined several muturas (african sausage): they were delicious and BIG, on my!

i also assisted some friend who needed help with his ‘kanywaji’.

evening came on a bit too fast and i was getting cosy somewhere when Savvy hollered…it was dark and all was hazy to me and i couldn’t make out the directions of that ‘jkuat city clock’…so she breezed by on the bodaboda ride?

*the photo above was taken during the Strathmore tourney some weeks back….Campusrover..’cumming soon’ 😉 keep your eyes peeled!

caressing my kalashnikov, i sigh

October 24, 2008 at 3:49 pm | Posted in greatmen, he-motions, life, randommoments | 8 Comments
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so i thought/flyleaf

my best friend,he who knew me best, left for Russia a week ago, no two, am not sure.

he left without saying goodbye.

i wasn’t surprised. i wasn’t supposed to, i saw it coming, from a distance…maybe even all along.

but it hit me like a slug on bulletproof strapped torso. my heart just yelped, in its usual frightful discomforting form that occurs when my fears are confirmed. accompanying it is a dry throat an urge to swallow hard, but it never happens, leaving me suspended in an air of sickening uncertainity- eyes, glassy and if you look deeper, intense.

what’s more, i learnt it from this dude who rans a cyber which we usually frequented during my hols, made few odd coins that we pooled together for the inevitable shot of the ’24 Carat N series’. yeah, the Capital ‘N’ in iN-famous grouse that cemented this our delicate friendship.

so, the paradox of life!

am easy, am cool but am diss-tabbed by the implication of this. rarely do i see stuff on the blogosphere, across the whole spectrum that i scroll that chronicles any failures in their part of life… to most uv ’em hell is other people- but aint that what makes personal memoires? hell!hell can be me too…so, here i blog, of this particular blot that i loathe.

i still love pain.especially when it comes from close quarters. i can’t lie i feel nothing.to me, its the fervor that hardens my resolve…the six pound stone that would weigh hard on my ribcage, it’s not fiction.

so being i, what would you do? add a comment to posts on facebook about moscow, like ‘hey why u left w/out saying goodbye?’

ha! definately, not in my lifetime. i cherish my silence. who i will always be and is,  in the shadows…creeping slowly like a cat, all places like it, closing in for the kill…but may i leave it at that?

that’s why, everyday, i go on one knee and i ask God to protect my friends from me as for divine guidance as i choose the horny devil and the deep blue shit in their place¿¿¿

**********the may-bees and their sting**********

well, i hate to pen this post on the same breathe and psyche as the above…but i have to coz its time has come. not even the Russian troops formerly at the Georgian border can stop it.

i have harboured dreams of Russia for long, long before Palin walked to her backyard and ‘discovered’ it. every1 has a dream destination.

Czechslovakia, is another.

Maybe it has to do with the many vampire movies that i derive me writing grain from…or my love for The Blade..Vampires, or the fact that most of these movies are shot in these locations- with my presumptive theory being that vampires, real or not, never thrive in temperate climate and the Scandinavian weather is cool with the brood (picture a vampire movies shot in Sahara???) the movies? Blade the Serie?Underworld I & II Van Heilsin?

see, i love the name of the cities on this part of Europ3. Moscow resonates some warm tune in my heart, with its filth, fullness,life,everything. as inquisitive as i am, i never bother to gather any facts about it. i let it remain that: a mystery plus whatever lies in the borders of the greater Russia.

i mean, what does KGB really mean, what is the Kremlin? Cool names to me, one i’d give to rooms in my imaginary condo in Warsaw? Yeah, i know Warsaw isthe Cap. city of Poland but dint i say this part of Europe fascinates me? You never listen! ok, sorry, the battles within…

OR maybe it has to do with the great writers born and bred by Russian dark ages of iron fist dictators( Akina Stalin, Lenin, and now Putin…) or isn’t art born and bred? a revolt against fate? was that what the name calling was all about during the delayed Nobel Peace prize nominations late last month? That America literati is now certified trash and the best writers will forthrightly come from Europe? |And the Mee-ricans were saying Euro-pee-ans owe it all to genocide, crime against humanity? the holocaust?concentration camps..and such horrors of history? like how this old geezer (no pun) who was honored? blah- get the flow?

alex, poor alex, died a slow death from the chemical he was apparently fed on

alex, poor alex, died a slow death from the chemical he was apparently fed on

clearly, it must be connected with the written word. Remember the guy who was fed on Polonium 270(above)? the way his ass wasted away?for messing with KGB?maaaaaaaan.and for askance sake- if smitta actually bred his literary Talent in ‘Russki’, why wasn’t he fed with a dosage of that shit? i mean, if he poked fingers at the Kremlin the way he does to Kenyan celebs on his russinglish-ridden column? ha ha, if .Ke had a Celebhood KGB and i was the chief la-torturaski, i’d gladly polonium-lize his vodoski soaked brains with my own writing instinctiskis, lame as they are with careful poisened pen jabs at the right nodes! but we cool cats and genius gnaws at genius 😉

BUT why did they have to kalashnikov Anna? Palin, she of the Mc Pain fame reminds me of this Putin critic whose works am skimming through here.

And speaking of that thwanja ngwenze (loved this smitta slang today) called Putin, how dare he reason he can ‘put in out minds that in the 21st century, he can step down from Baks to Agw-asses position handing over power to some Mende-whatever?

some things only happen in Mos-Ko.

and yes, Mos-Ko,mos def, boyf., will check you out one day.

otherfools, if it ever turns out to be just that, a dream, before i breathe my last, i shall sigh, that it was a great life…as i caress my deadly kalashinikov, consoling it that it smote and slay many in it’s lifetime nd only missed the target by whisker; dem russian pussiekis!

mashed,bashed & smitten

October 24, 2008 at 1:04 am | Posted in life, randommoments, re-treated.. | 10 Comments
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As I promised, I had to let you in on what would become of me and my crew, for that retreat at the said boat of horrors. And, people, wasn’t it an experience? Am still nursing me hangovers though it happened a fortnight ago…ok, I lied, am just dying to share the experience!
Before I share the story, can somebody lend me a colt or magnum to snuff out some nuccas in the IT department? I have been thoroughly deprived one of my basic need and for this, someone ought to go down??
Anyho’ here we go…
The retreat. Ahem! It carried with it the moment of perfect happiness that has verily evaded me for some time.
Oh, and the most adrenalin-rushing moment! It happened…during my sleep. That sato… And it wasn’t to do with some raunchy thoughts or nubile company- men think of other things too, c’mon!
Apparently, it was the throbbing of a powerful engine that filled the chilly morning atmosphere- my eyelids, heavy as they were, lit up slightly as my heart churned at the thought of what lay ahead.
The fcking motorshow-cum-bikini car wash!
Ok after citing these rides i will post soon , I wasn’t as embarrassed to realize later on that it was actually a tractor that had penetrated my early morning thoughts!

Man and machine!
Well, I am not a fanatic of cars or anything, in fact, the thought and site of them, unlike many of my brood, never excites me as much- BUT I definitely love showbiz!!!!
Now, this is how it was to be: Mash Auto, Pulse (am sure you read that last friday but….) and some other companies, DSTV included were to host an Motorshow at Crayfish in preparation of the East Africa Motorshow in Dec…there have never been a much better coincidence- like loads of money, booze and a bloody warm beautiful mammal that has been evading your sharpest arrows, finally to be ensnared by your up to the ceiling wads of cash, smooth personality…bird man style hehe….and yeah, till you wake up coz u only half dreaming!
Only that I wasn’t.

Bashed
Our crew were a bunch of mr & mrses too goody shoes fellaz. Not that am is a bad boy, but I was just thinking outside the tent. It was a retreat, which would mean retreating out of normal lifestyle…get wild while keeping in line with the mission and vision of your ‘sponsors’. LOL.
See, they weren’t as boring but maaan, I had to fly and if inebriated, crrrrrawwwl out of the nest. Kwanza after my ka-proje wasn’t feeling me as much as I would have wanted to her believe I did. So much for randomness… Imagine, she even left me in the rain, wasn’t willing to be an umbrella- I literally soaked! Hand her the tissue for me tsk tsk…But I aint one to let such shortcomings, however subtle, infiltrate my fun-loving-jolly-happy-go-lucky matrix.

On the first night, that is Friday we set out for ‘ma-roundi mwenda around this ultimate get away…We ended up at what I like to call the greamhouze- ok, be not shaken, it is this club house, built in the format of a greenhouse and rightly named so. Inside, it has those barrels for tables, ‘sina-taabu’ stools made of wood and sisal, side sofas, a great service area and the dee-jays cubical at a strategic corner on the extreme left. The music is great and with the dance floor having mirrors on each extreme side, the crowd is another post altogether.
Thank God they don’t allow paparazzi inside.
Sadly, it had to be closed early in preparation of the next days’ motorshow event- I took one long last look coz I knew you had to part with a K to see the inside of the greamhouse the following day. I wasn’t willing…

Foxes of a feather
Sato dragged on a bit slow and thanks to continuous drizzle that turned the place into a nice lush green carpet- more so, i was happy the party was about to be ruined he he…I mean, It drizzled till past midnight! By then, the Fox and his comely other half had departed and the only other dude who would rhyme with my foxiness was none other that our chief chef! Foxes of a feather…
After wrapping and lapping out our supper, we rolled on 20, gave up finjes at the nearby town for tha ‘in-famous grouse’.
I drowned all my sorrows, in the dingy den, rain pouring its grievances outside, ill-mannered patrons dancing madly to some bongo tunes…till Lucky Dube came calling and I and I stood up to be counted.
The chief chef interested me with his life story and the social lubricant made it all the while great- I mean, there is a drop of Guinness in every man, I had my story too!
Sidebar: I wonder why drunk men tell of their great-should-have-made-it stories, who they have met, women-they-dated-no-scrap-that,beded, secret kid they have and finish it off with the all too common of a virgin Christian girl tagging on their cloak, asking for a hand in marriage…

Smitten to smithereens
Afterwards, we headed to greamhouze, corrupted the bouncers and I have never seen a much more lively party! By their looks and apparel (forgive the beer goggles) majority was Nairobians having a swell of a time. I wakilisha-d too, especially the rock session…and that’s when I think I spotted someone like smitta. My instincts were in high gear that I edged closer for a look… but his state-ass kinda raised some doubt…he spotted short dreads and a goatee- all qualifiers that it was him- but he was totally wasted, shirtless, had/has a small pot, three-kwenje khaki shorts, white socks and some Nike airs sneakers- he made me feel sober.
I spotted him severally and played down the thought till I left the greamhouze for my tent.
But the thought remained resident in my mind…
It all came to be on Sunday when, in a bid to shake the sadness of heading back to town, took a walk to the Lake- I and my company, decided to drop by and see the limos that were on show…now, pics are worth a thousand words in this case- BUT I met the Smitta, CEO and some other writers, crazy Nairobi dudes whose talk bordered the dumpsite in D.
…but talk about happiness, I met the writer I have always admired, and for my roughness and well-reversed lines, got a compliment.
It was worth the while. I was mashed by the auto-rides, bashed by the in-famous grouse and smitten by the poetic genius…again I have more hope of joining showbiz…sooner, or later.

**the rest of the photos are with another guy anadai kuingizwa bosk ndo azitoe….jo! i have to post them, especially coz they have the ridez,celebz and did i say bare bikini backs? oh and that kiddo was the kiddo of this German mama who tagged along.poor thing, he..sorry she has this upara that her name became kihara…which, strange enough, rhymed with her German name which i forget- i told u i dont love kids hehe/

***the rest of th captions:up thea kabisa is fox, boyf. and some lady..hapo chini is the smiley boyo with ‘the company’.girl has brain, wit and ‘intelligensia’ i miss a lot in my daily encounters…big ups to Beato, ha. The other one is of course, the black out!

otherwise, i missed the blogosphere.more rants soon!

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