Category Archives: friends

Murder? Can’t Be

Marcel woke up from his drunken stupor, his muscles worn of fatigue, he stretched his every joint making such weird crackle. Pushing his blanket aside he struggled to his feet, stretched his hands and yawned releasing a nasty smell of yesterday’s rum. The sun was already up and the rays struck through his bedroom window creating an ambience he never really seemed to enjoy, rubbing his eyes he walked to the washrooms. He lowered his head into the sink letting water flow through his hair. He never cared to use the face towel maybe after pangs of hunger struck so painfully he couldn’t ignore them. He made his way to the kitchen, water still dripping from his hair making his back wet.

Even in his most weary state he knew his kitchen door is always locked, he held the knob and thrust the key into the keyhole but before he could initiate any motion with the key in the lock the door opened. Normally, this would be a big reason to worry but since yesterday was a day they had spent celebrating her son’s birthday his kitchen had got accessed by all who cared to step in there and so this was expected anyway. He lit the cooker and placed some water to boil, he opened a freezer from where he expected to pick a packet of milk but what greeted his eyes was quite fictitious if not frightening. In his freezer laid a frozen body of a boy they had spent the better part of the night searching for. Apparently Jose had opted to hide in the freezer knowing that none of the kids would find him and he will be the winner of hide and seek game they were playing after enjoying meals that were served at the party. However his winning plan proved torturous when his whole body became numb, maimed by freezing cold within his hiding hole. He might have tried to open the freezer but he couldn’t unlock it while inside and that only left him with a single option- to look death in its eye and maybe embrace it.

The police cells were cold and dirty, they reeked of urine and piss. At the corner of this cell where he was, a bucket filled with piss and urine was stored and who knows it maybe his turn to empty it. From the very day he got here he has got more reasons to dread it than he had anticipated. You can’t imagine how fellow offenders beat him up for killing a child. He had become a criminal of the highest cadre without even knowing it. His whole body ached from uncalled for beatings both from the police and the fellow criminals but that pain was nothing compared to what he was to go through.

Murder? Can't Be

He was still using every thread his mind could hold to knit his niche in this world he had been forced to live in when the officer came to the window and shouted his name.

‘Marcel Kwong’ he shouted. But when nobody answered all eyes roved on him, partially because he was the only freshman. He neither moved nor talked.

The officer flashed him a bilious look before shouting his name again, almost insanely. He awoke from his lost state of mind and answered ‘yes Afande’. That earned him some ‘knee therapy’ after which he was frog-matched to the visitors’ room. When he saw Jose’s father he went to his knee and swore, ‘I didn’t kill your son’. he looked at Marcel in the eye and for a moment Marcel thought he didn’t hear him but when he spoke he spat venom,

‘I wish you accept my solemn gift, I will make this earth a furnace for you even if it will cost the last drop of my blood’ he paused and then ‘I will kill you, just like I killed your wife’

and then he left, leaving him being ripped apart by the venom he had spat on him. What a lie he had lived, Matt was his best friend or so he thought but now this revelation opened his eyes, he wasn’t a friend anymore but a villain the world was delaying to deport.

 

 

 

 

 

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Judas’ Kiss

Judas' Kiss

I never knew you, but I opted to help
When you had nothing, mired in shame
Put a roof over you and before you a plate
You trashed my art and called it pursuit of cheap fame

As the sun rises from the east
so will your troubles never cease
I thought I was your cure but you saw me as the disease
Never expected thanks but those words shouldn’t have escaped your lips
I read about it but you made feel the pain of Judas’ Kiss

Just like fingers differ in length
So do we differ in strength
Even an elastic band can only stretch to a limit
No matter what I did in your world I couldn’t fit in

You came in as a victim of worldly torture
Enslaved in sort of mental stupor
I gave you a home
And shoes to cover your feet
Then you served me a taste of judas’ kiss

It Takes Smelly Feet and Carpeted Floor to Spoil a Party

It takes two to tangle. I read this phrase somewhere but it only surfaced as I sat on the opposite side of the table licking my bottle of sprite that I wasn’t enjoying anymore. Everything was in place and the party was about to be enlisted as one of the few house parties I have ever enjoyed. This was a graduation party, need I say I didn’t even know the graduate? I was here exploiting the few privileges of being a friend of Alal. I had left my place to visit him. He had just jetted in Nairobi from Kitui. After sharing pleasantries and a plate of beef stew he unleashed our next move which was to attend this party, what was I to do? Push aside my only ticket to enjoying free sumptuous meals and drinks…and music? I stood up my phone in my right palm and left for the door, he followed closely behind; talk of the shepherd being taken to the fields by the very sheep he intends to feed.
The house was already full by the time we got in but no worry there was lots to be eaten and to be drank and the way they pamper you with karibu karibu, chasing these kids to leave the seats empty for guests (I was a guest?) not really. I was more of a stranger. Impatiently waiting for them to pass me some warm water, clean my sweaty palms and stick my robust fingers into the mouth-watering delicacies that filled the dining table. I didn’t have to be told to come to the realization that the cook must have been hired from Utalii College. The dishes spoke on her behalf. The way they fry red meat until it turns brown and what spices do they add to it to make it that tender? Yawa jamaneni this cook was the only genuine graduate here! I bet the day my wife learns to cook half as delicious meals as she does, I will buy very heavy curtains and have them tied to my windows so that not a speck of aroma would escape to my neighbors failure to which my house will become an eatery generating no profits. Mother Teresa is my heroine but I betray her on this.
Smelly feet
Guys what is damn lethal in washing your socks and keeping them clean? How could this guy come to a party knowing all too well that 80% of houses in Nairobi are carpeted and you’ve got to remove your shoes to get in? This is Nairobi, the capital city of this country why the hell are torn socks suffocating your feet? This guy just stepped in and the air composition changed completely for the worst, you would think some reptile was rotting under the table. I felt an urgent need to leave the party and save my breath…mfffffff…Guys a pair of socks goes for as little as Sh.20 in Gikomba buy 8 pairs and save our parties. Shame! Wait, who still ails from athletes feet? Here is a free medical advice; wash your feet with HOT water (no pain no gain) and then apply GENEROUSLY a cream of CLOZOLE B…problem solved.

Emeli Sande on a Sunday

Land of MirrorsI got to bed at about 5 am this day and that means I never slept a wink on Saturday, So I wasn’t wrong to expect a very boring and tiresome day for a Sunday. I woke up at 9 am and my eyes still deprived of sleep I had to squint to protect them from the venomous rays of the sun that was already up. Breakfast wasn’t any better, having a mkate mkavu (Is this what they call unleavened bread?) with a dilute cup of tea is the last thing you would need for breakfast on a Sunday morning and worse still it was cold-My brother Steve will never find the flask. I couldn’t find a match box to light the stove to heat this beverage and so I had no choice but gulp it down like water. Unfortunately my cup of tea gets empty before I finish my share of the mkate mkavu and that only leaves me with one choice to eat it like some sort of fruit but its dryness proves so torturous to my digestive system it feels like somebody is scrubbing my throat with some sandpaper and so I grab a glass of water to wash it down and a thought strikes me- this is the price you pay for failing to fill gas!

Sundays are always my best days. I don’t work on Sundays. It is a day I give to the creator, beginning my day with a church service is my ideal Sunday after which I spend the rest of the day in the house reading or listening to music but this was not an Ideal Sunday, far from it. As it turned out, it was even worse than any other day of the week. It was a day for thorough cleaning. I don’t even know why it is called so but I tell you I hate it. From dusting off the cupboards to removing the cobwebs to washing the utensils to mopping the floor nothing can be more draining. I was done by noon and I had no energy left to prepare lunch so nilikula njaro (airbags as we named it in college) for lunch.

So bored and lonely I turn to this book I have been reading for the last two months A land of Mirrors by Alfred Coppel for solace. I have only read one paragraph and my intestines are proving too rebellious to let me continue. I wish I was fighting against hunger, maybe I could have won but fighting a rebel from within has never been very easy so I give up on Alfred Coppell and turn my TV on for some music and wow! I couldn’t have made any better choice. It was SOLD OUT on KISS TV and guess which song was playing- Daddy by Emeli Sande. My hunger subsides and my attention is divided between the beauty of this singer and the rich content of her lyrics. Give me any other job but don’t ask me to describe Emeli Sande, I will fail. I can’t find the right word but there is something about her lips that will make you envy the microphone that seemed to be siphoning the radiance from her face and the alluring scent of her breath. Her eyes radiating love yet you can still read vulnerability of a lamb in company of wolves deeply seated in her pupils. Her vocal prowess is a story for another day, neither will I touch her hairstyle no, not now!

Ladder and Music

I haven’t bought a decoder and my TV is not a Samsung flat screen and so the images at times become rather blurry. This calls for aerial check, I never do this but for Emeli Sande I was ready to break some laws to watch her perform Breaking the law as she did in London recently. In haste I go for the ladder, within no minute I am on the rooftop twisting the aerial in a 360 degrees spin. If you have a TV like mine you will know that you need a second person to be checking whether everything is clear while you are on top of the roof setting the aerial. I was alone, so I had to change the direction the aerial was facing and climb down to check whether the images are clear, Thank God I didn’t have to climb to the rooftop the 11th time. Everything is clear, young man sink in your sofa and watch Emeli Sande.

Emeli SandeYou won’t find him tryna chase the devil
For money, fame, for power, out of greed
You won’t ever find him where the rest go
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me

Next to me – ooh hooo
Next to me – ooh hooo
Next to me – ooh hooo
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me

The lyrics of this song is tight, I couldn’t just close my mouth and watch in silence so I brought my coarse voice out of its hiding and began singing along. Don’t hate me I was only doing what my mama told me; NEVER stop singing. The microphone was still in its place enjoying its rewards for being humble. These are the women worth catching a grenade for…next to me- oooh my voice is a hell of a treat but the song was getting deeper in my soul replacing boredom and loneliness with euphoria. A once dull Sunday turning lively. I leave my seat to swirl my hands in the air in synchrony and right then the worst happens…..CHEEEEW! electricity! electricity!…I have serious beef with KPLC.

PHOTOS:GOOGLE SOURCED

Am I really Doing Better?

It may sound rather stupid asking yourself such a question but as those who lived in this godforsaken planet said- don’t judge a man until you have walked for a whole month in his moccasins, please do not rush with your how-the-hell-does-it-concern-me attitude.

WIN_20140915_160035I am but a humble young man who is trying to make a honest living. I have people who I should be dependent on or atleast they think I should be dependent on them but I chose to toil, sink my fingers into the swampy world of writing to make something of my own. To be honest If nothing is going to change about my current working situation then I am sure I will never be rich or to be optimistic I guess I shall stop writing and seek formal employment. lot said already, my job situation is not the problem am facing now or atleast I have got used to it. My biggest problem is the belief that people have that I am living well, the moment a person hears that I am a writer and I earn online his whole perception of me changes. In his mind I become more than a friend, something sort of a donor, an ATM that they can rush to whenever they need cash! its quite absurd.

I have friends who do not believe I can lack money , they think I am a miser; I just save but I don’t spend. they think I live in the slums just because I like to portray myself as a hustler but the truth is I am just that – a broke fellow who lives from hands to mouth with hopes that soon things may go better and I will be able to pick my shattered dreams off the paths tread by losers.

I am not trying to say that no friend should call on me for help, I just want you to know that I am not doing any better, I am just like you! so when I tell you I don’t have enough to spare please believe me!

Am I doing better