nne zangu

January 29, 2009 at 9:21 am | Posted in life | 9 Comments

Iko wiko nini!!!

wacha ni- wa-releasie zangu kadhaa juu enyewe, m-shefulani amenimulika design siwezi lenga (thanks lakini)…

haya, twende twendete!


Books!: Kwa super, nimeachwa mara mob na comrades nikikagua books tu (the way a lady would just get smitten by shoes…) and i read them as much for as long.

I hope to write amemoir some day 😀 – nig tings naku show!

Arts: Kwanza theater (though last time nili-watch play ilikuwa nikiwa Fourth of which nusu ilikuwa mambo mbaiya-usiulize…so Miss Sibbie usichomoe simi niku-kuask tutokee 🙂

Photography and film: hope to script/direct a movie some day too.

wot else, a…


omfg!: with th ‘g’ for Goodness…ok, it’s usually said ndani ndani…like when i am afraid ma’ has ‘sikia-d’ the stench of scotch (read ghetto champagne as Savvy would say.)

Sh*t: a bad habit when i blunder…the other day, my sweater fell and it was raining, so i shouted a bit Sh*T turning to collect it only to be met by this decent looking lady who was to tell me about the same…she walked away smiling, i embarrassed.

man!: this is said when tuko mtaa and hiyo risto imeangushwa hapo, ni unbelievable ka Ripleys..man! (Bomseh..si ile ‘meni‘, old schoolfor ‘comrade’ :ati , meni he gafegi, lol.

Jo!: same as men but when a ‘chuma moto’ wafts by…base kubangaiza…


dAMAGED people are Dangerous, they know they can survive: in reference to wale wasee wametoka neti (jela) ama wame survive vitu mbaya, most become worse..if that aint the turning point for the better.

A man must try- watching dad do his thing and making it big…

Only when we face our worst fears can we say we’ve overcomed…

Kaa ngumu…lakini si kaa ngumo!

Old shit rarely stinks…hehe, we say this to bury the hatchet.


rUSSIA: Ax ZAx…there is something that just attracts me to Moscow, probably Muscovites, KGB…or just the reigning miss World.

Australia…the beaches (and another word that may rhyme widdat)

Czech, Hungary, Warsaw – for the sake of my gothic tendencies…just to see a vampire alive!



bought a male hipster, lol.

jana but one, got an iphone look alike…

Hepa-d home to school…

Started writing this…

and that’s just about it! hope the following people can make a more interesting list….wewe, 331337…his Supremacy the GREAM -n-not-the-ripper…hmm…N33m4, Ujomnoma…and the untagged: chako!



January 25, 2009 at 10:47 am | Posted in life | 5 Comments

He wore his name the way a toad carries its coat; his folks had named him ‘Kagwa’.
In the laughter of that language, the name would have meant a ‘weak, little sugarcane’.
In fact, on second thoughts, Kagwa was actually a frail young boy, had toothpick legs with knees protruding like door knobs and a mug that looked foreign on his face.
But Kagwa for all i knew, was my best friend in my whole wide world punctuated by hills, valleys and a forest.
A good friendship we had, many games we played, including his favorite when the rains pounded the red dry earth and the ground was slippery.
Kagwa would skid like he was skiing, bare foot, continuously for about ten meters.
As the other stragglers hastened to catch up with his zest, he would hog all daylight by skidding on his knees, hands held high much to the chagrin of the kiddie crowd.
I tried to share and outshine his prowess once, by skidding on my heels, but ended up with a very bad headache – landed on the murky ground with the back of my head.
Soon, the rains, common in the slopes on Mt. Kenya, would subside and a healthy green carpet covered the landscape, stretching into the horizon.
Then, a long pit would be dug, filled with grass and a used tyre positioned at one end of it (pit).
From about 12 meters or so away, boys, lost in their boyhood, would pick momentum like in long jump, sprint, hop onto the tyre, fling their bodies in the air then flipped over, landing on their feet, on the grass.
Some landed on their butts in the acrobatic quest, others had their backs badly bruised, yet some, like Kagwa, broke the record, by landing head first.

Of Samson and the stripper of Gaza

January 23, 2009 at 12:26 pm | Posted in greatmen, he-motions, idiots, life, randommoments, retardedrants | 3 Comments

….. CNN is streaming into the room about stuff we have little control over, and am diligently digging into my Ugali*.

“Wasn’t Samson’s eyes gouged out in Gaza?” Mum chips in and i re-focus. Beaming ominously,on a low resolution camera, images from Gaza…man records brother death,the  running footnotes read.

mum?details? how could she know that and i don’t? my eyes widened, mind flipped open, challenged.

i must admit that…even as i dug the good book for a better preview…it was mainly fueled by skepticism. Sorry ma’…but besides my doubts, i discovered some things.

you know the story…most of you does(?) but hear, hear, hear me out on this.

Samson! Son of Manaoh, from the tribe of Dan…born of a former-barren unnamed woman…obsessed with the kisses and caresses of the enemy daughters’…i consider him a hero, a tragic hero,like say, Oedipus. Oedipus the King.

From Judges 13, this life story rolls on…and before i sink his mother further into oblivion…like her husband and the Angel of the Lord, let me quote for you a little evidence of the apparent chauvinism that overrode in these times.

(KJV) Judges 13: 3 “…And the angel of the LORD appeared unto the woman, and said unto her, Behold now, thou art barren, and bearest not: but thou shalt conceive, and bear a son.”

But Manoah, the soon-to-be dad…thinks his ‘woman‘ is insane and calls upon the Lord for another sign…

9 “And God hearkened to the voice of Manoah…”

J’dges 13: 13 “And the angel of the LORD said unto Manoah, Of all that I said unto the woman let her beware…” The angel of the Lord further sunk her into obscurity of history, she who was to give birth to the strongest man to have lived in Israel…their savior and liberator.

The other thing that amused me about Samson, a ‘liberated free soul’…was his ‘poetic inclination’.

Though we can’t calibrate it on the ‘Shakespearean scale’…he was expressive and captured his emotions precisely, giving ambiguity a wide berth. Mostly, it showed up in times of turmoil.

On his way to a town called Timnah, to betroth his first love, a woman ‘who had pleased him well’ against his parents wishes, he kills a lion (Judges 14:5)…and what better way of keeping this heroic secret (Judges 14:6), than by encrypting it in a riddle at his wedding?

“Put forth your riddle, that we may hear it!” over a bet (Judges 14:13)… the sons of Timnah, eager to hear and win, urged him on.

Here, i prefer my NIV version Bible that reads like:

“Out of the eater, something to eat;
Out of the strong, something sweet
(Judges 14:14)

Three days were to elaspe and with no clear answer, the sons of Timnah pushed the bride to seduce the answer from him ‘or did she bring this man to rob from us?’ You know what transpired, after she ‘vexed him to death…and thus, he burst:

If ye had not plowed with my heifer, ye had not found out my riddle. Judges 14:18 (KJV)

Brethren, there is something i think you should note here…after this bet went against him.

“…he went down to Ashkelon, and slew thirty men of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of garments unto them which expounded the riddle. ” Judges 14:19

It’s this same Ashkelon that appears in Zephaniah 2:4

Zeph. 2:4 (KJV) “For Gaza shall be forsaken,
And Ashkelon desolate;…”

the stripper of Gaza

Maybe this is where i should chip in what attracted most to this page: the stripper of Gaza. It’s true there was one…only then, they called them ‘harlots’ not ho’z…

Then went Samson to Gaza, and saw there an harlot, and went in unto her.  And it was told the Gazites, saying, Samson is come hither. Judges 16:1 (KJV, def!

So there you have it, the harlot, contrary to many miss-conceptions, this teacher tells thee,  was not Delilah..Delilah, was just a girl that Samson saw and loved…

“And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah.” Judges 16:4

i see yawns here and there, so let me wind up..AAAAAAAAAmen, haloooooo?(dont you dislike when preachers do this?)

So, Samson’s eyes were gouged at Gaza, i verified..

But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house. Judges 16:21

And the most foolish thing, or failure in this plot..the Philistines actually allowed his hair to grow again eventually killing them off? (Judges 16:22)

End of Sermon.

thrOugh the tin roOf

January 19, 2009 at 12:55 pm | Posted in campuslife, he-motions, life | 3 Comments

bloggers advisory:explicit.

In the reefs of my recent memory, many Sundays ago, this thought came to remind.
A gathering of storming minds, further read the advert…or, literature news bite.

Location: Daas restaurant, Waste-lands
Event: Sunday Open Mic Salon/ Story Moja (one story)
Date: one Sunday, many Sunday ago

Participating parties were to make readings based on the book by Dayo Forster, a Gambian writer based in Nairobi. Reading the ceiling, the book is titled.
Apparently it’s about a young girl, shy of her 18th birthday, startled in the search, spoilt in choice in making the decision on who, of the 4 men in her life, would she bestow the honor of taking away this thing called…virginity.
Presentations were made and in the media, I sampled some.
But could the Mind of this son find such in the archives of his eaves-dropping collection?
Correction! Not necessarily my experience, but experience necessarily…any!
“That hOt January, the noOn after, triple summer temperatures, far-in-height, reminiscent of centigrade-s in of Belgrade…but passion burning, boiling way above the heat.
In one hit, one liner, if you so like; it was a scarlet scene…of bodies coiling and recoiling, lathered in sweat, embroiled in sin.
It was a first love so eager, she the beggar, I the eagle, keen eye on the kill, devouring with skill.
NOooooh!, she’d scream.
KnOts I’d navigate.
Then, over the gate, her cry came.
ThrOugh the tin roof, it shot…music to the untrained ear but a cOnspiratory theory highly bred to hoodwink his delicate ego and pride…
“My reputation explains my pride,
where I’ve been,
they’ve always enjoyed the ride,
but this one, oh boy,
she just faked an…

A poet, at the event, must-a-have read the ceiling for me… through the tin roof?
– the story is as told to this writer, no thanks.

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