The Longer Walk

Flashback, Realest

fleet_55pax_inside_back

It’s funny. Quite funny how twelve whole months stream past you without any warning. Swoosh! From January all the way to December. Like nothing happened, seeming as though you were in a coma immediately the year began and somehow, by God’s amazing grace, as soon as the clock ticks 00:00 on the 31st of December, TWELVE whole months later, you mysteriously wake up from the coma, as clueless as you can possibly imagine. You look around, tried to get hold of all the information bumping, entering and leaving your brain. Then reality hits you. With a metallic rod. On your face. Twice. At the same exact place. And you realize that one whole year has vanished from your life. Just like that without any warning. The clock ticks 00:01. A new year has begun and with whatever vague memory you have of the previous year, you try to recollect together the scattered pieces of all the good, ‘positive’, life-building things and actions that you have done to at least propel your life to the next level you endlessly keep dreaming and fantasizing about. After scanning through the whole year, carefully trying to extract all the good stuff. Damn! That’s when it dawns on you that you ain’t s**t! The whole year you did nothing to be proud of, except tons and tons and tons and tons of really bad, shaming decisions, followed by a series of massive guilt and regret from which you are yet to recover due to the trauma it caused unto your life. As manly as you think you are, you bump your chest and begin motivating yourself that this year you will try as much as possible to be the best version of you. But hey! We all deserve second chances right! So, for the sake of moving forward, let this year, 2017….scratch that, 2018, be a year of zero procrastination (something which runs deep in my DNA) and let’s make it a year worth remembering.

So, shall we begin?

Seat number 19. The seat located at the left row. The left row and the exact center of any long-distance travelling bus. And it’s also located next to the window. That, ladies and gentlemen, has been among one of my favorite seats since I don’t know when. I have been travelling from my County on the coastal side of this great country of ours all the way to the green, misty highlands located somewhere in Machakos for four whole years in the name of attending high school. So I have proudly made more than twenty journeys (I hope this word exists somewhere in the minds of great English elites) to and from home to school.

Now on this particular journey, which took place around three years ago, I was heading to school. Those days when the SGR was barely some rumors. So there I was, seated on my favorite chair (seat number 19), wearing my perfectly ironed school uniform; I recalled how I ironed it four times continuously ,especially the school shirt, so that the line;you know that line which appears at the endings of each cloth when you iron; yes that one. I had to make sure it lasted as long as possible and what better way than to iron it until those nice straight lines form as thoroughly as possible. Let’s just say I was unbelievably clean. When deep down you where you are headed to you are going to declare a war between you and water, you must prepare yourself psychologically. And that I did my friends. I had, as always, prepared myself in all ways possible. I was calmly seated on that window seat, enjoying the breathtaking view of Mother Nature and all its glory. The bus was cruising smoothly; typical of all buses plying the Mombasa-Nairobi route. The well-spaced seats, tinted windows, the smooth sound of the engine making you feel as though you are gliding in high altitude. And not forgetting the free Wi-Fi; who doesn’t want to get hold of free Wi-Fi? Plus the surround system on the bus. And on top of it all, the loads of snacks you are given throughout the journey. Home away from home. That was the slogan of each of these buses. My eyes were ever outside the window, watching how the surroundings were slowly transforming from the flat areas of the coast to the hilly mountainous terrain. And as usual, I could feel how the air, which was softer and warmer as we left the coastal area, casually becoming thicker and breathing was quite different. You feel your head becoming heavier, but not for long since moments after your body adjusts to the changes and you’re good to go. We were now past the Tsavo National Park which blessed us with free views of some scattered giraffes, antelopes and some group of lions which found no better place to rest than a few meters next to the road. The speed of the bus made them vanish into the thick grasses nearby as their little cubs were left clueless near the road, wondering why their counterparts left them without any warning. We watched as the elder lions came back to where they were, grabbed the little cubs by their necks and disappeared with them into the thick grass along the road. Family is forever I guess.

Boom!!!

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…My head was leaning against the window, admiring God’s nature, when out of nowhere, we hear this loud blast which rips through the whole bus. I felt a sharp vibration through the glass, and I immediately lifted my head away from the window. The vibration ran through my head as I tried to get hold of what on earth had just happened. I blinked heavily as I looked around the bus. The cool and calmness of the bus was abruptly changed to a tense mood. Children who were dead asleep began wailing uncontrollably as their frightened mothers tried to calm them down, while they too were dead scared. Murmurs filled the bus as everyone was curious to know how things went from 0-100 real quick. ‘Shit!!’ The loud gasp came from the extreme front of the bus. On the right end from the bus in specific. It was the driver. I raised my head alongside other passengers to get a glimpse of the driver, only to see a large, blue truck, with its headlights brightly shinning on us, coming to our direction at defying speeds. I recall very well seeing the driver let go of the steering wheel and covering his face with both his arms. The large truck smashed our bus and I felt a large amount of force that tried to pull me out of my chair. I still have no idea how I had kept on my seatbelt. They literally stopped me from flying across the bus and I was intact on my chair. The screams and wails were deafening to hear. I tightly held on to the straps of the seat belt as I felt the bus overturn. My eyes slowly began to shut down and the wailings and screams which filled the bus began to fade away…

The morning bell rang at exactly 4AM and I lazily opened one eye first, then the next. As I woke up from my bed, I felt a sharp pain on my neck and it grew sorer as the days went by. I touched the bandage around my neck and it seemed to be peeling off. I placed my palm on the front part of my neck and I could feel a large scar running from one end of my neck to the other.

Three years down the line, the scar is still visible on my neck. Regardless of it growing smaller as time goes by, it’s still a clear reminder of how I was in a f*d up situation some time back.

The Long Walk

Flashback, Realest

Let the water wash away your worries.
The sun is slowly setting towards the horizon. I remember the time. Memories never fade they say. They are just stored somewhere behind your already-filled brain, patiently waiting for just a single trigger and snap! The memory proudly slithers from the back of the brains, skillfully meandering through, up, down and round other memories without displacing them even by an inch. It slows down at the front of the brain, together with other memories which have the utmost priority in you. It makes you wonder :Are my getting my priorities wrong or what? But fear not, there’s a reason (it’s what most people say anyway) the memory has suddenly decided to grace you with its presence. So, shall we begin?

Ocean waves. The way they swish to and from the shoreline. A sight to behold. I was there. After the sun was done tormenting innocent civilians in Mtwapa with its brutal thermal energy, it was now time for it to set. It lay on the western side of us, me in particular, as I could feel it’s warm heat a soothing to my brown skin. I was walking….not walking the way my counterparts in the capital city walk when heading to work. That’s rushing for dear life. I was strolling. Lazily if I may add. Yes, I was lazily strolling along the shoreline. With my pair of shoes firmly held on my hands, the sensation of walking barefoot alongside the shoreline was just satisfying. Watching the waves originate from deep in the ocean. From far, you see some whitish substances parallel to each other, coming towards your direction. They slowly increase in size while getting closer and closer towards the shore. A few metres away, they roll together, making swishing sounds. Sounds that simulate peace and serenity into your soul. They roll hitting the ground with a soft force and finally spreading the shores with its blue, foamy waters. The water slithers across my feet as a rather high speed, then slowly cascades back, across my feet again, this time slower. The stress, headaches: all that has been causing problem to your life slowly fades away. It’s like some sort of therapy. A natural one. With each wave passing through your feet, you feel some sort of relief in you. You wonder if allow the worry and anxiety is really what there is on this beautiful planet of ours. Andrew the way the water is warm (courtesy of our beloved sun). It’s waves is enough to relieve you of your burden : now add the warmth of the water. Simply magical. And the sand, let me not even talk about it.

Now there I was, enjoying some free therapy. What a great day to end the day. By the sea shore. Admiring God’s creation at its finest. As usual, that time was the strolling period for many folks. Locals and foreigners streamed to the ocean to catch a glimpse of how the sun sets the ocean’s soul and it’s surrounding on fire. And who am I to be left out. And when you’re walking, there’s no need of looking where you are heading to. Most heads looked down:to the water swaying to and from your feet. That’s the position I was. A group of small fish who got unlucky and were displaced bt the waves quickly swam past my feet and I admired how they courageously swam towards the same waves that washed them ashore. I gazed as they slowly swam past the waves and further into the open ocean.
“Bump!”

You know that bumpy sound that originates when you unknowingly bump into some stranger. So it was heard. I felt a soft bump on my left shoulder and my eyesight immediately shifted from the waters below me to the person whom I just bumped into. An old, frail man was looking at me sternly. Damn. I could tell what was running in his mind. How the youth of today have become disrespectful to the society. Blah blah blah. I said a quick sorry plus a brief explanation of how I didn’t see him coming. His grinned face turned into a distant smile. With a small nod plus an ‘it’s okay ‘, the elderly man turned around and proceeded with his walk. I too continued my long walk to nowhere actually. I was determined to stop strolling once darkness was in my presence. For the night was dark and full of terror.

“Hey there! Stop”

“Yes you! The one with a blue t shirt!”

It was I. I turned around to see who was calling me. I saw a multitude of peole heading towards me. Not lazily strolling as it was the norm. They were rather stomping towards me. I could hear them murmuring as they slapped the water with their feet. I stopped and waited to witness what the fuss was all about. I had no single doubt in my mind, knowing very well the law-abiding citizen I was. They reached where I was and from their facial structures at that time, they were not happy citizens. Before I could even open my mouth to ask “Nini mbaya “,a bearded man raised his voice.

“So you are the ones we’ve been lookin for all this time. You are making this beach unsafe.”

I’ve never been more confused in my life I tell you. There I am, clueless as to what he’s saying . Before my brain loads, another bombshell is dripped. This time an elderly woman raises her voice.

“These thugs need to be burned. How can a young man like him steal from an old man!”

Wait a minute…..What! Now I’m more confused. The sounds of agreement from the crowd and their vigorous nodding further increases my confusion. I tell them that I didn’t steal anything from nobody. “But this old man says otherwise.” Another man speaks while stepping aside. Behind him, he was there. The old man who I had just bumped into.

What the fuck!

He looked at me. I looked back. Cluelessly in fact, while he smiled at me. I quickly spoke”Look guys, this man is a plain liar.” I explained to them the bumping event and how I didn’t even utter an insult to him. “I can even empty my pockets for you,” I said as I quickly dipped my hands into my pockets. I took out my phone which was on the left pocket and showed it to them. I took out the keys and some few notes which were on the right one.”See, I told you” I said as I looked at the old man whose plans had failed horribly.

“The back one “.Came a voice from the crowd. I quickly placed my hand into my back pockets. I felt a huge bulk in my pockets and took it out slowly. The crowd was in shock. In my hands was a golden wallet. I looked at it in wonder,my mouth wide open. I shiftedidn’t my glance to the old man. He nodded, smiling at me. All eyes lay on me as more and more people were streaming towards me. But why? I was asking myself all sorts of questions.

I felt a tight grip on my right hand. A well built man stood behind me, with his face a clear expression of death.

And The rest is history.

The Boy Child 

Realest

Hellooo! Can anybody hear me. Or am I talking to myself.

I think I finally have your attention now. There’s an issue. A really really serious issue that almost no one seems to care about at all.

Let me now quickly rewind back the sands of time and safely arrive at the 18th century. Oops, premature arrrival right there. Let’s go back, further back, to be the 16th century. Yes, right there. The 16th century. Somewhere in Africa. Those were the times when Africa was 90% rainforest with a few million people. Now those times the western government didn’t exist. We ruled ourselves through chiefs and kingdoms. But what a terrible time to be alive I tell you. The daily routine for your whole life would be : wake up, farm, go hunting the whole day, come back home, eat and finally sleep. And the cycle continues. And most important of all, protection was a paramount responsibility.How glorious was it for a male child to be born. The joy, the love,not forgetting how the community was hopeful of the future due to the male child. That was the future of each and every male species born during that time. How optimistic it seemed.

And then there were women. The female species. Their cycle was quite simple: Do the household chores and stuff, produce babies, produce babies, and finally produce babies. No say, no nothin. Just a silent, submissive species who no one gave even the slightest of priority. They were literally non existent. Just some children-producing machines, which never get worn out or break down. And the discipline they upheld, epic I tell you. The community at large was responsible for that if a female species decided to misbehave. So I could beat the crap out of your wife as I please if I see her doing ,not unlawful during those times, but uncultural things. As I said earlier, what a terrible time to be alive that was. But mainly for the female species. The male counterparts however,not quite sure if they were basking in glory or just thought that’s how things were supposed to be.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s flash forward the sands of time and boom! We land right back here. The lovely and amazing 21st century. The era of free thinkers and passion followers. But first, let’s take a detour and slowly cruise through the 40s and 50s, a time when the world was at war. Real war. It was a time when the whole of Europe was filled with posters and banners convincing all male child to join the army for the sake of protecting their motherland. It seemed as though the world would unceremoniously end. Just like that. Even we Africans joined in the war. With all we got by the way. And the turn up in their motherland, don’t even ask. European males showed up in large numbers to fight for their countries. With all they got. No wonder there were two World Wars because none was willing to give up.

Now, we were in the 21st century. I don’t even know where to start. I’m trying to think about what went wrong but I’ve not been successful. The era where the tables have turned 360 degrees. The boy child is doomed. Doomed!!!! Very soon we are going to be extinct. And you will miss us when we are gone I’m telling you. The word boy in boy child is slowly fading away with the winds. Women have become more and more superior through the ages and they officially have surpassed the male species hands down. Feminism huh. That’s what I hear it being called. Feminism. Not saying its a bad thing. You deserve it of course. Throughout history, this is the only time when women have almost equal rights with their male counterparts. But, with the 21 St century and all its glories and freedoms, What about us? What about the Boy Child. Have you focused too much on feminism and forgotten about us. Yes you have. The boy child has lost his touch. The level of manness has drastically reduced. It’s funny how a few decades ago, the boy child was busy fighting for their motherland. Now here in this futuristic 21st century, the boy child can weep all night simply because some girl gave her the legendary blue ticks. The boy child can cannot handle responsibility as it was back in the day. Instead of facing them, we run. And run we can. The ways through which the boy child runs away from problems, you will sympathize with them. Drugs and alcohol have become a major escape route from the pressures of society. We feel the need to relieve ourselves from what we term as problems but deep down we know we don’t have any problems. We just scared. Scared that what awaits us in the near future will be one hell of a burden. We all know it, but instead of making our lives straightforward,as of every man should , we shy away. We keep on being told that no one will help you in this life. You need to help yourself. Which is true, I basically agree with that. But come on, don’t you think a little help in choosing the right path would be appreciated? And that’s another problem. I have seen with my own pair of eyes how a family constantly keeps in touch and does all it can to ensure their girl child gets the support she so desires. The said girl child is active and has high hopes for the future.Meanwhile, in that same family, there is a boy child. Seated at the corner, with no clue what he is doing with his life. No one even bothers about him.”He’s a man, he’ll figure it out ” They say. How do you expect him to figure nothing out? When he becomes a nuisance to the society, the way the stories will change you will wonder if people really care about the boy child. The pressure the society puts on us is tremendous. In a good way since its supposed to mould us into proper men which the society can look up to. But in this generation, one can use another alternative to deal with all that. Being high. Higher than the stratosphere. Little dont we know that it’s only a temporary fix. The day after, the problems slowly crawl back to us again. And the cycle continues.

But there’s no time for blame game here. The fact is the boy child has been neglected in levels never seen before. We all know this and it’s as if we are waiting for the complete extinction of the boy child and maybe a new species will emerge from its ashes. A dumb species I presume. But before all that happens, let’s acknowledge the fact that the boy child needs help. Real quick, or else…

And as I was saying earlier how during the world wars people defended their countries, suppose, God forbid, a war breaks out in our motherland, with the levels of YOLO at superhuman levels, no one even imagines that one day we would leave this beautiful world behind: all the pleasures of life. Do you think how many boy children in this generation: my generation, will step forward? If not many who will form a battalion of verbal warriors on social media.

The issue can be discussed for days on end, but still…

Boy Child lives matter.

The Night is Still Dark

Realest

Where the fuck was I?  Oh yeah, I remember. Thank goodness my memory is sharper despite being defiled by substances which are known to screw up your mind for the night and leaves you agonizing in pain the morning after. Why do we still do it!  I wonder. Don’t  judge me lest you be judged my friend. 
The night was dark and full of terror. 

It still is. Darkness and terror like never before. It makes you have endless questions about how crazy the world is. The witnessing of an old frail woman being torched. So there I was, wondering whether to believe some shit like that existed or not. Then boom! Have you ever had one of those moments where out of nowhere, probably outer space or something, an idea crashlands into your brain, catastrophically displacing all your neatly-placed memories you had stored in there: the day you had your first kiss, the day you had you witnessed the first hand brutality of some infamous gang in your hood that made you fear darkness itself: among others. It was as if you unceremoniously erased the memory from your mind and out of options, it left. Only for it to go and re-organise itself for a major comeback: one hell of a comeback I tell you.  And Tarra! It comes back with all it has and you have nothing else to do but think about it. Giving it one more chance. Measuring whether it makes sense or you were just some idiot to throw it away. 

So, the year was, I think, somewhere around 2005 or 2006. Somewhere in between there. You know I’m aging as we speak. Not almost dying,  God forbid, but aging. Somewhere in Mtwapa, of course, the story begins. The afternoon sun was killing us.  I was not outside but the heat was unbearable and I could imagine how someone who was walking under that sun was feeling. We were five of us. Two ladies and the three of us gentlemen. Scratch that, there’s no way one can acquire such titles at such a tender age. So we were three boys and two girls. We were standing in front of a class of forty five. All eyes on us. Back then, shyness and fear were the order of the day. I was there. All thanks to a teacher I hated most in that primary school. I have no idea what was going on in her mind, but out of nowhere, she called five names and told them to come forward and I was one of them. We lazily walked forward and stood facing the rest of the class. We then looked at each other cluelessly, without a single idea what was happening. Being a back-bencher, all I could think of was her spotting me laughing or as we called it back In the days, noise making. “I want you to sing a song from your motherland “She spoke, with her rough voice that used to give me chills each time she spoke. Then our clueless minds became wise in an instant. We looked at each other and realised: Fuck!  We were all from the same tribe. All five of us. So that’s why she chose us. Face it, back then we were slow as fuck in everything. 

So, there we were. The Fucked Up Five. We looked at each other. Again and again. But really, my motherland is somewhere on the cold hills of Taita highlands, which at that moment was miles and miles away: so how the hell am I supposed to recall a song which I heard probably in mother’s womb. Seeing no hope in the other four, I remembered a fraction of some song I heard my uncle hym to while he was driving. I decided to take the chance. Either give it a chance or die trying. Just kidding, nothing like die trying. I was dead scared of her beatings. She was a brute when it came to discipline. Her slaps and kicks were my nightmare. I took a deep breath, close my eyes and cleared my throat silently. Kaende venye kataenda! I asserted myself. 

Then Shit happens. The floor slowly begins to shake. A slight movement but with lots and lots of vibration. I could feel it. The desks began vibrating at high speeds. Rumbling altogether and becoming more and more intense. I was..I don’t even know which state I was. I looked at the rest of the class and I was better off. The looks on their faces said it all. Never-before seen levels of fear was portrayed in their faces. Then came a loud scream. The type of scream that let’s you know you don’t know. Then another scream. And another one. Soon there were screams all over coming from one particular direction. The screams mixed with the rumbling of the ground seemed like we were in some war torn country. We all rushed outside to behold the sight of what was the main cause of all this. We left the teacher inside the class, speechless, or maybe in shock: but that’s her problem. None of us really noticed. We ran outside the gate of our school and from far, we saw them. A whole lot of them. Scores and scores of children: an endless stampede of children running towards our direction. Their uniform was recognisable by everyone. Shimo La Tewa Primary School. The whole town was brought to an abrupt standstill. Most of them were familiar faces. Everybody knows everybody in Mtwapa. So I spot one of my friends who was also running and signals him to come to where we were. He sees me and heads towards us. His heartbeat was tense. He breathed heavily as we tried to calm him the fuck down so he could give us the whole information. 

After narrating to us what he had witnessed at the school which led to everyone, even the teachers, run for safety, I was in fear. Fear that all had believed to be rumours and hearsay all along was the truth. Nothing but the truth. These supernatural shit is fucking real I tell you. 

For the night is dark and full of terror. 

The Night Is Dark

Flashback, Realest

For the night is dark and full of terror. Where I’m from, somewhere along the shores of the Indian Ocean, you will never skip a single day in your life without hearing someone mumble about the supernatural. From the old, to the young, even to the extent of the unborn yapping about it. And the interesting thing about these happenings is that when someone says he saw a particular(Song of the year tight there by the way.Anyways let’s proceed before you forget all I’m saying.)thing, everybody else now miraculously gets the courage to speak his own similar story and before you know it, the topic is being discussed by every one, I mean every single person existing at the sea level. There was a time, some few years back,when out of nowhere some fisherman, or so I heard, came from the ocean with tales of how he witnessed ,with his own two eyes, a mermaid that swam quickly past their boat and disappeared into the depths of the ocean. I mean Really??? . From my point of view it was total bullshit. The way his news spread across the coast, the topic was on everyone’s mind. Now everyone was on high alert, hoping and praying to encounter one of those fucking creatures to back up the story. And by the way mind you the one with the original story is a full grown adult human being with a family and a dozen of children and he’s narrating his story to you while he’s scared as fuck. So you have no option but to believe what your brain tells you to believe. But for me, that’s just hearsay. Now to make things worse, months later, another story emerges, this time round of a young nigga, my age mate in particular. So as heard, the guy went for a swim by himself. The water was warm and shit, he was having the time of his life when from afar, he spotted a young girl, also swimming by himself. The hyena in him jumped into action and swam towards her. His goal was to swim underwater all the way towards the girl and startle her suddenly and boom!  Mission accomplished, they start chatting and the rest is history. The nigga takes his breath and dives into the water. Of course your eyes must be open in the water to know where you are going. He swims toward her and in the water begins to see her blurry shape. Then he decides, let me swim between her legs and come out the other side. His hyena mind is thinking at infinity level. As he approaches her, he sees no legs. He looks closely and the lower body is joined together and at the end is some sort of tail. He literally screams under water and his small bag of air in his mouth escapes out of the water. He says he just saw the tail flap a few times and the creature was miles away from him. And he has no fucking idea how he went back to land but what’s in his mind is that the ocean is a no go zone for him . His particular story trended without hashtags. It was viral verbally.  Those who will be lucky enough to come down here to the coast, ask around and the tale will be narrated, perhaps even better. 

Now let’s leave the mermaid crap aside for a moment. They are just imaginations from a bunch of high people. My opinion there. But there’s this story that up to date has given me endless migraines whether or not it is true. I personally have had some encounters here and there. These clean little pets we all love and cherish. Cats. They are warm and loving elsewhere, but here, they are the most feared. It has been reported thousands of times about how cats are some sort of possessed with evil spirits. Some say they saw some cats changing into humans. Especially the changing into human ones. Stories are told that during the daytime, you just see an ordinary human being doing his daily routine. As the night falls, while others are deep asleep, he becomes a cat and starts roaming the streets doing his part time job -haunting peole. Just recently, some fucked up incident occurs. And old woman was found lying naked in someone else’s compound early in the morning. Keep in mind that the compound was surrounded by a ten-foot wall, and on top of the wall, an electric fence was mounted on top. Now someone please explain to me, how the Fuck could a naked old woman have surpasses that wall and electric fence!!. I’ve used all logical means and shockingly, none prevails. In a community where supernatural issues are a common thing, the peole wasted no time. She was roughed up by the large mob that had gathered to witness and out of nowhere, a tyre flew from the crowd and landed right around her neck. In every one’s mind, a witch had been caught. I was there that fucked up day. Remember how I told you in the beginning that when such incidences happen people miraculously gather the courage to speak up, well they did. People spoke of how a cat had been giving them sleepless nights, crying in different voices,how she terrorised innocent children, among other horrifying things. She was unceremoniously burned right before our eyes, her screams and yells seeming like music to the joyous celebrations of the masses.

And  after her death, there was some sort of calm. The incident occurred a few miles from my home and people spoke of how relieved they were, how comfortable their sleep had become and how children who were once dead afraid of playing outside suddenly became playful. 

For the night is dark and full of terror.

The Encounter 

Flashback, Realest

No place I’d rather be than in the calm, serene, shoreside town. My town. My home. Mtwapa.Where my soul is at its best state of rest. No place I can possibly imagine would best replace this feeling I have when I’m there. Anyways, enough of that already. The place is not in heaven or a European country. In my stay for all those years, I’ve experienced some really fucked up stuff, but there’s one: this one that is still in memory and I bet it will stick in me forever. I just remember it and I don’t know whether to laugh, or just pity my sorry ass altogether. 

I remember that particular happening. I don’t remember the exact year, month and date, but I remember my age. I was four years old, about to turn five in a couple of months. So yeah, it’s a very, very, long, long time ago, considering the fact that I’m almost marrying and soon my first born child, a son I hope, will follow after. Wait a minute, I’m just kidding. By the way it hurts like hell knowing that your future wife is currently being banged mercilessly by some horny senior year campus student who has also been fucked up by a cat he had no clue about. Please,  I beg, go easy on her. Damn, life is a bitch right! 

So, as I was saying, I was a four year old little boy. The time was around 7:30 pm and I was just chilling at home, you know,  as any normal kid would do. With the TV remote on my hands, switching from Nickelodeon to Disney Tv : those days when missing your favourite cartoon was a nightmare on top of nightmares. The horror was unbearable I tell you. What are you going to tell your friends when you link up the next day?  The way you will be laughed at,it was just unbearable. And that, my dear friends, was the origin of stress as we know it today. So there I was, watching my favourite cartoon. Then I hear my name being called in the kitchen, My older sister, Lucy. How I used to hate her those days. The moment I hear her calling my name, it’s like if I was basking along the glorious shores of the Indian Ocean, then a second later, a thick cloud full of thunderstorms form above me, dropping hailstones, huge drops of rain, thunder and lightning smashing along my face, all at the same time. I knew she was about to send me to some God forsaken shop to buy a God forsaken cooking ingredient she had surprisingly “forgotten “. So I  angrily throw the remote – not on the ground of course. No matter how angry I was, that would simply be a good way of telling my mother “Kindly beat the shit out me. Please.” The remote landed safely on the smooth sofa and I went to hear what she has to say. I was unceremoniously handed over a one thousand shilling note and “Go give this to the gas supplier guy. The tall one. Tell him it’s me ” were the words that came out of her mouth. Really Sis!  I know you have a crush on the nigga, but must you use me to convey your info! She just thinks I’m a dumb, clueless nigga. Well joke’s on you. 

So I rush out, as quickly as I possibly can.  Deliver the goods and get the fuck back as quickly as possible. That was my motto. Beind the sreetsmart Lil nigga I was,  shortcuts were my favorite thing back in the days. I had the entire map of Mtwapa at the back of my head. I reach the gas shop, give the guy -aka my sister’s crush the money and begin heading back home. I have a cartoon to catch up with for heaven’s sake. It would feel like missing your wife’s delivery of your first born child. Out of nowhere, I feel this tight grip on my left hand. I instantly break -actually the brake was automatic. Iook at the hand. Who the fuck could this be. Probably my aunt who lives around the block or a mother who knows me. I look at her face and my mind simply blows away. This woman, a total stranger whom I have never met in my life, is tightly holding my hand.  And the way she is dressed,  Oh my goodness!. From her hand which is full of bangles, and her breasts which were shamelessly hanging from a thin bra-less top. What the fuck!!! Her face, Jesus Christ!! Layer upon layer of endless make up. I try to break free from her grip buy it was too tight. So I’m there looking at her like ” Bitch what the fuck do you want from me!! ” I’m thinking that, not saying of course. Then as if she reads my mind, she places her hand on one of her breasts and begins fondling it. “Naeza kusaidia”. Those were her exact words, I still remember upto date. She proceeds by licking her lips in a round motion and blinking endessly. You have no idea how fast my heat was beating at the moment. I was in full panic mode. Then it bumped into me. She is one of those women Dad warned me about!  She is a hoe!! Then she’s asking me if she can help me. Help me with what actually. Of all the growe ass men walking past her, she sees me. Me!!. A four year old boy. I even don’t know how my own fucking dick works, and you are telling me to help you! With what. Can’t you see virgin written all over my face, and my body, height, weight, my panicking, my everything actually.Jeez. I slowly slide my hand into my back pocket and slowly grab it. Being the devout Catholic I was, my rosary was with me at all times, and I clearly recalled what the Father said one Sunday morning, “Whenever you spot the devil, it will be your greatest weapon.” True to those words, I was face to face with the Devil’s biological mother. I was wishing I had more rosaries to counter her demonic influence. I try as quickly as possible to recall all the prayers and sermons taught to us and arranging them strategically hoping to unleash unto her one by one until she lets go of my hand. 
And the rest is history…

Home Sweet Home 

Flashback, Realest

This is not the normal memory lane where you recall your awesome childhood days of being brought gifts and shit everytime your parents come back from home. 

Something just got into me. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it just got into me. That feeling. Honesty it’s amazing. It has been on my mind for long, and at last I’ve given in. You know,when nature forces you to do something, even I it’s your worst nightmare or something, you will do it. Reason for that only the one above knows. The feeling of telling my fellow humans all and everything about the place I call home. The fucked up small, tiny, minute town located at the beautiful shorelines of the great and might Indian Ocean. 

As you may have known, my origins and where I find utmost peace in my dark soul are found in a town blessed by whoever the hell came up with its name. Mtwapa . Sounds familiar right. Oh Yes, you’ve began thinking of the roads in the town lined up with stripper poles and the strippers dancing along the roads showcasing what their mamas gave them.  What a shame. Shame because what you are thinking is not further from the truth. It’s the clearest definition of all. Hoe City. Fuckboy Capital. Sin City. Syphilis Depot. I hope I haven’t forgotten the nicknames of my great town. Mtwapa. I also guess that name is neatly sprinkled with cocaine at the first letters, then the middle letters are drenched with some expensive vodka, then the last letters of that name are well garnished with::well of course, what do you expecti :=Hoeeeeess my friend. That awesome combination is basically the stronghold of my beautiful town. If Mtwapa were to be an independent country, I would expect no other symbols of national unity than those three. Pussy. Money. Alcohol. Lemme not go further and Imagine the economic activity that would have been driving our economy. 

Home is best. All my years on this cruel world, Mtwapa has been my home sweet home. Now allow me the pleasure of giving you a sneak peek of this town. The main entrance to my small town is a bridge. The Mtwapa bridge. Once you cross the bridge, you are officially in Mtwapa. The first sight to behold is the police station. Located a few metres past the bridge, it has been built at the edges of the cliffs on the Mtwapa Bay. One single slip and you plunge down, hundreds of metres into the ocean down below. Legend has it that the cliffs have rather been a “lifesaver” for the wrongdoers who are apprehended. A wild jump off the cliffs into the ocean is better than spending your night in a cold, dirty cell, some say. Well, past the police station is an array, or rather a display of the main source of income in my lovely town.  As usual, the town is divided into two parts. And I wonder by the way, why is it that almost all towns are divided into two. Most commonly by a road. The East side and the West side. Why the fuck is that. Anyways, it’s just the way it is I guess so let me not give myself migraines thinking about something that will not change. Well that’s the case in  Mtwapa. There’s the East side and the West side. In between lies the main road to and from the town. And these two sides, completely different from one another. As in the exact opposite. One town. Two sides. Two different worlds. 

Closer to the shoreline lies the East side of Mtwapa. The crown jewel of my town. A sight to behold if I may add. If you are new in this town and your branch towards the East from the main road, you will surely be amazed. Right from the beginning of the road, you are welcomed with the sight of well-arranged, classy hotels strategically built at the sides of the road. With beautiful paintings on the outside and sophisticated architectural designs, the hotels are legendary in the coastal region. And the lodgings, Oh my Goodness.  State of the art I tell you. No wonder hoe business is booming in this town. The way they are strategically placed beside strip clubs high-end night clubs. Damn, I just had a flashback of a major throwback in my life. Speaking of hoes, I vividly recall my first encounter with a hoe: a rather weird, epic encounter, at a very young, totally young age just along the ‘Hoe Superhighway ” of Mtwapa. Yeah, we have that in my hometown. A place where there is smooth streaming, intake and outake of hoes at record breaking speeds. Don’t tell me you don’t have that in your town! For real!!!. Anyway, that’s a story for another day, but in the meantime, I was at the East side of my hometown. The apartments in this side are a sight to behold. Apart from the European architecture used to design these gorgeous apartments, at the top of most of them ,the very top of the apartment, you will see a flag bravely flying high courtesy of the warm ocean breeze. Not a Kenyan flag if you are to assume. But a flag of European origin: mostly Germany :actually in case you don’t know, foreigners make up about 40 percent of the population in my hometown, so yeah, that’s why “business is booming “. That’s why they find it best to call this place home and further increase it’s growth in all aspects. 

Now let’s cross the road and head to the West Side. Well this side is a Lil bit fucked up, but they’re catching up. Now this side is where you get your brand new second hand clothes. The streets are neat, well lit, but there are no fucking rules on this side. This side is divided into territories and in each there is a gang. With the extremely high levels of ‘living life ‘ here, one can wonder why waste time in school while you can make quick and easy money selling drugs and engaging in criminal activity for the guys, and for ladies,the profitable hoe business can make you filthy rich in a short duration of time. 

All in all, regardless of its bad reputation which is now spreading to international levels, I’m proud to hail from that fucked up place and it has, and always will be my home sweet home. 

Humanity Restored 

Realest

Hello there. Sit back, relax and enjoy as I’m about to, as usual, once again, unleash content into your brains  for you to smile or do whatever you do after reading a blog. But please do this humble Kenyan soul a tiny favour. Sharing is caring. It won’t hurt your little fingers or make your crush see you as some sort of loser. I’ve tried to find a word that rhymes with commenting but there isn’t any,so your comments will be highly appreciated. 

Anyways let’s get to it now.

“Kill them with kindness .” Has that song ever streamed into your ears one day? Of course it has. Why am I bothering to ask you. It’s beautiful lyrics coming from the vocal cords of one Selena Gomez. What a fine lady she is right? Trust me I know. She blessed us with that song a while ago and we couldn’t get enough of it. Enough of her actually(evil laugh). Garnering more than a hundred million views on YouTube is no joke my friend. The song was one hell of a massive hit. Keep calm as you will soon get to know why I chose this particular song this time round. 

The day was Wednesday, the fifth of July 2017. That’s the day this particular article was born and the reason for it’s birth occurred. Somewhere in the streets of Mtwapa, a young dreadlocked Kenyan(yours truly) and his cousin were busy being productive members of the society. We were slowly walking through the midday sun. Ugh! The sun!  That hot bastard! We appreciate you with all your benefits but please, sometimes be humble, sit down. To make matters worse, I was wearing a black t shirt. Surely, I was in regrets and my body was quick to react by producing endless amounts of sweat. I was literally drowning in my own sweat. Me trying to wipe the sweat with my handkerchief was pure bullshit. So there we were, on the pavements, engaging in small talk about how fucked up our family was. And by the way, let me ask you guys something: Is it me or why is it that in every family I suppose, there is this rich, I mean filthy rich;rich enough to buy some island in Hawaii or something. But, the said uncle is nowhere to be seen. All you hear is stories of his adventures in some corners of Europe or the Caribbean, yet at the same time there’s one family member who’s starving or has no means of educating his children. I mean…I try to think about it but nothing comes my way. Everyone has their reasons I suppose.

Anywho, my cousin and I decide to enter into one of the roadside fruit parlours and order the coldest available liquid they could offer. From my experience while living at the coast, if you haven’t realized that perfectly mixed sensation of relief, sweetness and relaxation when you sip a really cold drink after being lashed by the sun, then my friend you haven’t lived yet. We slowly slipped the drinks, savouring each and every sip. We are now through and our tongues have been cooled down to zero degrees Celsius. We walk out of the parlour and bam! 

,

,

,

,

Bam! We looked up in total surprise. The weather was totally different from when we walked in. Just a matter of minutes and it was all cloudy. Cloudy af. Weather and it’s unpredictability. We proceed walking when out of nowhere we encounter a rather unusual sight. On the extreme end of the road next to the bushes, a guy was lying on the ground. I elbowed my cousin who was always busy with his phone bashing lies to whomever he was texting. We crossed the road in anxiety. On gaining ground, we saw his whole body suddenly erupt with violent shaking. His whole body man. His eyes were tightly shut and foam began moving from his mouth. My mind clicked:epilepsy. We looked around and the road was empty except for the parlour which we had left it miles away. I quickly signalled my cousin to run for help from there. He jumped into action and ran towards the parlour. There I was: Me staring at the epileptic man as he violently shook. I’m no first aid expert but I sure got some few tricks up my sleeve. I got hold of a stick and placed it in his mouth. To prevent him from biting off his tongue. I took off his shoes and then I quickly remembered one crazy rumour that I heard. A really crazy one and I had just a few seconds to think it over. Fuck it. I gave myself some motivation and did that crazy move. I took one of the shoe and placed it……don’t freak out…..on his nose!  I honestly felt like the dumbest person on earth at that moment. I held the shoe on his nose as I watched him. In my head I was like “Fuck man work, work “. I swear believe it or not, the shaking slowly grew less violent. I amazed and confused. How was it working? . I watched him as his eyes started blinking right before me. He blinked tightly as the shaking began ceasing. I heard my cousin calling out and he had arrived with a large crowd behind him. What are you doing? . He noticed the shoe on his nose and I was beaming with excitement to explain to him what I had just did. “Remove the shoe now “said some guy at the crowd. “So you know that technique ‘”he asked. I simply said yes to cut the long story short. The epileptic guy got into his senses and explained to us how he forgot his medications at home and immediately, a guy offered to take him home on his motorcycle. We helped him board the motorcycle and he was gone. Gone before I could give him back his shoe. 

I honestly feel like a fricking hero right now.I couldn’t wait to reach home so I could pin down this writing.For once in my life I had just helped a stranger. And by the way, the shoe-trick works like a charm. So if you happen to be in a situation like mine, the shoe or some garlic would most definitely be of assistance. 

Blood Of My Blood

Realest

“How can we not talk about family when family is all we got…”

My favourite part of Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth’s See You Again. One major, major hit song right there. I mean over 2 billion views! The song made us all feel the loss of Mr Paul Walker who for sure his name will stick in our heads for a very long time. 

Anyways, aside from that :for those who didn’t hear that song you’ll have enough time to search for it after reading till the end of my writings which I’m about to officially ‘launch’ it right……about……NOW. Okay, so this song got me thinking. Yes..Yes..me and thinking,thinking and I. Best buddies huh. Let’s get serious now. So  I was thinking,thinking about that word Family. This word. With its existence in this world of ours for I don’t know how many centuries, it has slowly reduced it’s meaning to us. And by meaning, I mean the normal meaning we are all accustomed to. People who are related to you, by blood most importantly. From your parents, relatives all the way to your very extended family. Family was such a strong word back in the days.: From the exposure of movies set back in the Victorian era in Europe, family was everything. Even back in Africa, the story is the same. 

Now quickly fast forward and skip the sands of time and you land here: the 21st century. Era of free thinkers and passion-followers (that description is totally me). It is here that you’ll wonder whether family is such an important thing. Something of which I, from my experiences, know otherwise. That word has an all new meaning. Particularly one which I spotted it one night as I was scrolling the endless feeds on my facebook timeline. The excellent Wi-Fi in that bus I was travelling on was a dream come true. ‘Family is anyone who loves you unconditionally’. Between the captain was the image of the late Paul Walker and his fellow actors. Coincidence, right?. And ironically, the page called itself ‘No one cares”.It got me thinking, again. Nowadays everyone is busy with his and her own personal welfare to discover anothers problems. I mean, why bother to care if the child of your late brother is struggling to go to school because the widow can’t afford to afford all by himself,right? You have your own children to take care of and to feed their mouths. Other family members give them the side-eye and just watch. Don’t pretend to be pityful yet deep down you now that’s what it is. The reality. And you expect them to call you family yet a totally non-related person : it could have happened to be the mother’s long time friend back in campus who offered her a helping hand while the so-called family sat and stared. And then eventually, when the mother struggles to educate all her children and they become successful and respectful people in society ,’The family ‘ proudly claims them as their own. Yet deep down, jelousy is slowly chewing their cells bit by bit. 

All I’m saying is, the word family is no more. From various stories I’ve heard, most people prefer family to be a close friend or someone whom you’ve struggled with other than that uncle of yours whom enjoys to see you not being ‘better’ than him. And family secrecy is long gone into the depths of hell. Woe unto you If you decide to announce to your family members about that large business you are about to unleash after months of endless planning and chasing the required  legalities. You will be the gossip of the family. And had you not told them about your big plans, you will be termed as selfish and uncontributing to the family. So you wonder, what the Fuck are you supposed  to do? Only the 21st century solution is left. Your other, true family. The friends whom you hustled with from scratch. And they receive your plan with the best of smiles and even give you suggestions and pave connections for you. And that becomes your family.

But I  don’t know whether that’s the norm in all families but if there are, of course it’s just a number you can count, then they better watch out for the infectious virus of jealousy. But as far as I’m concerned, family is anyone who stands with you through thick and thin.
“Family is anyone who loves you unconditionally ”

                          —The facebook page “No one Cares “

Good Riddance 

Flashback, Realest

Leaving something better than you found it. This rings a bell to you, right?.No need to explain to you the boring details of what it means. I mean come on, you’re smarter than that! Anyway, it’s around 4Am and the loud rumbling of thunder and lightning plus the endless humming of the April rains suddenly cut off my beloved sleep. So I’m just there, staring at the darkness, the emptiness of the morning hours. My mind is now refreshing it’s memory trying to let go of the horrific dream I had about my home flooding and me being carried away by the ruthless flood waters. I scratch my head, twice, letting my hand slither through the locks on my head and suddenly boom! Something strikes my head. A brilliant something. I think about it for some few minutes and conclude it is worth trying it out. I reach out to my phone, which at that time seemed miles away and unplugged it from the charger.’Battery full’. No greater news in the morning that can beat that flashy headline on your phone’s screen as you wake up after a night plugged in the charger. I grab my phone, plus the headphones and return to formation: blanket covering upto my chest, phone on my hands while facing the roof. ‘Mad Over You’. There’something about this song :it just seems brand new every single time I play it.Always is and will be my all time favourite. The kind of song that gets your creative juices flowing through your tiny veins. It even makes you want to own a place somewhere in Naija.I put the song on repeat mode for I need the juices to flow endlessly till my thoughts are made readable by you people. And yes, that’s how I began writing this piece so let’s see if my sacrifice for sleep has paid off. 

Now, about that sentence up top. Leave something better than you found it. I was just chilled at home one lazy Saturday afternoon. Lack of a siesta or something constructive to do made me sit under that coconut tree which is at the edge of the road,  with some of my friends in the neighbourhood. There we were, storytelling like there’s no tomorrow. Literally. It was like an opportunity like no other. That was where we shared each of our very own experiences and secrets. The sun was blazing as if it had decided ‘Let there be no light-skinned African ‘. The person who was storytelling was sweating uncontrollably and we the listeners were not left out either. That heat was unbearable. We laughed and enjoyed the stories, not caring whether they were true or false as long as we kept our idle minds busy. Then we hear people shouting behind us. The kind of shouting between people who look like they are about to kill each other in a matter of seconds. Our stories come to an abrupt end as we all face behind where we were seated. It was them. Our neighbours, Jane and James. Not husband and wife by the way, they were siblings. We observed as James seemed to be angrily taking his belongings into his Toyota car while yelling at Jane. In a few minutes, his car is filled and aggressively, he opens the driver door wide open and gets in. Still yelling at Jane, he closes the door loudly and switches on the engine. He literally flies out of the compound. As in flying. At a very high speed, leaving a dusty trail behind him. “And good riddance,”Jane yells as she holds her nose and coughs after dust being blown to her by her brother. We all watch, no words to speak. She suddenly shifts her gaze towards us. Immediately, we looked the other way, pretending not to have witnessed anything but simply we were minding our own business. Jane was known by her talented skills of using abusive language. I’m telling you if you ever pick a verbal challenge with her, tsk tsk tsk! You were bound to cower. She holds the infamous title for being The Verbal Warrior .And her hatred for prying eyes. We could hear her quick footsteps rushing towards us. Furthermore, it was her moods that decided her behavior. And today was one of those bad ones. We knew the trash-talk she would unleash upon us. The endless attacks by her battalion of insults stored in that small voice box of hers. We were ready for it all. She reached where we were seated and came in front of us. ‘Hey guys,’she greeted us. We looked at her :confused.  Did she just greet us? Her. Jane. Greet us.What the **** just happened? It was there and then that I realised things had overturned for her. If she had lowered her ego to that level of greeting us, things were bad. Really really bad. We greeted her back and she smiled at us. She even took a seat on of the plastic chairs around. She began narrating her story to us. How her loving husband died and she had no one to take care of their house for her since she had secured a job abroad. She eventually sought out her brother who agreed to come live in her house while she was away. She further went on and told us how she used to send money to his brother to renovate her house so that it doesn’t get worn out. For nine years while she was away, she believed her brother was doing some progressive work to her house. Only to come back and witness shocking details. Her house was no more. It was in a state of despair. Roofs leaking ,wall surrounding her house almost falling down. His brother was living with his wife, five children and his many friends in a house meant for three. She was just angry. She felt like dying instantly. She was just bitter for having wasted all that money. She had nothing else to do:except chase him the hell away from her house. And indeed he was chased like a dog. Judging from what we had earlier witnessed of course.We listened to her story in deep thoughts. It was her own brother. What if it was someone who was non-related. She was in deep regrets. And now she had to start from scratch. If only she had been coming atleast annually to check on the progress ,she would have been far by now. It was through her story that I was able to realise the most vital of things in life. Trust. One thing very hard to find. Another thing was jelousy. Not everyone ought to rejoice at your success. Although I had been hearing all these things everywhere, I finally got to witness it at first hand. Haters were real. And coming from the least expected people. Atleast I could say my day ended rather meditative. We finally came to realise why Jane was so protective of her own. Trust had gone missing in her life. And I hoped that such a thing would not happen to me before I realised it.