The Encounter 

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 

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. 


This place reeks. It stinks actually. From the endless echoes of passing cockroaches and rats here and there. How I hate those dirty insects. Some flying aimlessly while others Criss cross my feet shamelessly. And the countless spider webs scattered across this place. It seems as though this place was deserted ages ago. A bloody ghost town. The tiny drops of rainwater slowly leaking from the rooftop,slowly descending towards it’s companions: a small puddle on the floor constantly increasing in size. Wind howls from the cracked walls,: the cockroaches rush to their dark holes in fear. I’m literally shaking my head right now. My absence from this place has made it look so dead. Come on! It’s only been a few days, or weeks…wait a minute. It’s almost past a month. Damn! Well, what can I say. The world and its never-ending cruelty. Just when you think all is done and you can now sit back, relax and enjoy a cup of hot coffee in a roadside Cafe while doing(finally) what you love when you are suddenly punched in the face by the cruel world(I told you). Something came up and there you go, rushing as though you are racing with Bolt himself. You therefore end up forgetting about your obligation to fill the masses with content. Time flies and you realise its past a month and you have no writings to show. That’s when you eventually make up to your mind we are! Me, writing at the demonic times of the night. Quite a peaceful time it is by the way. The silence is just mystical.Legend has it that at those who are awake at these times are either witches or writers. Either way we both are magic, right. Let me bring this place back to life once more. The stench of abandonment is too strong.

Two bloody decades. Twenty whole years and some few months counting. I have lived, loved and laughed on this cruel world for twenty years. A quarter of a century….and still more:many many more to go. I look at my life in those few years that I’m bragging about and the transformation is astonishing. Having graced both the 20th and the 21st century, things have changed. Really changed. I one day had that lazy stroll across the ocean shores. Shoes on my hands , the rough waves of the ocean come from the deep sea, roll over each other into whitish foam which slowly cascades towards the end of the shoreline. That feeling. The salty, warm, wavy water streaming past your feet giving you a tingling sensation on your legs. And it’s constantly coming back and forth your feet. Plus the way your feet easily sink into the sand as you walk, leaving behind footprints that quickly become filled with water and begin disappearing. Trust me no matter how stressed or how life has fucked you up, when you take this walk, those burdens will slowly wash away: yes, it works :like a charm.  That’s when you learn the beauty of life. All that stress you’ve been loading on yourself you’ll realise its defects. 

So sad to say, but I’ve personally compared 20 year old males and females and damn! Honestly speaking, we, the boy child, are so very fucked! A twenty year old young woman has her priorities all set up. It’s like God placed some secret brain somewhere that lets them figure everything out. I have no fucking idea how they do that. She is physically twenty but intellectually way past that age by far. This young woman walks with elegant elegance and confidence one might mistake her for working at a high-end International bank. The way she carries herself, priceless. We the male species of that age just eat with our eyes, literally. You wonder if she’s living in the top, creamy, yummy part of life and we the counterparts lie deep below the dark,congested and saturated part.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves. Winter is coming. The world we know of is about to change. Drastically change. Winter is actually here if I may say. Let us now talk about a twenty year old male species. Dear Lord, please have mercy on us-on our noble souls. And before I begin, all of you must know that life is tough for the boy child. Keep that in mind as we enter this dark, sad tale. A twenty year old male. We, the boy child, are totally fucked. First accomplishment of any typical twenty year old male is at the top,literally,so that all can lay eyes on it. The long, really long hair. The shaggier the better. The sky is the limit for this one Hehehe. We are all victims of this. Semeni ukweli. After finishing high school, this one is like a course for all of us. A rite of passage in this life. One begins his career of keeping hair till the day our Savior will grace us. No mane, no lion, right?. That’s what it is to us. Mane. He gets into trouble here and there, thats just natural in fact. And the ripped jeans. If females wear it, it looks spectacular. If we wear it, the stories you will hear. So and so ‘amekua mkora’ nowadays. Even the dreadlocks. They keep it, society approves. You try and see flames of curses coming even from our ancestors graves. A disgrace, product of a burst condom. You name it. The list is endless. And they say we have no goals or ambition in mind. No, wait a minute, there are ambitions in their minds actually. Let’s just refer to them as sleeping dragons, shall we? Boy child, I’ve just saved us! I will narrate and further narrate about the misfortunes of the boy child but the fact remains, no one gives a fuck about us. We are, and continue being on our own. Society gives our counterparts more and more privileges while we fade away. 

I shall call you for mass action one day if need be, but in the meantime, I’ll submit my complaints to the Supreme Court for further investigations. 

The Gap

Life is a bitch. And death is her sister. Those words came out someone’s mouth. Not a fancy guy dressed in a suit holding a large microphone motivating a multitude of confused youth in a closed arena. Nope. Those are some of the lyrics from a world reknown rapper. Young Mulla Baby! Yap,Mr Lil Wayne himself. One can wonder how can one use words from rappers who only preach about money women and drugs as food for thought. Well, I don’t give a hoot. No matter the person, that nigga(scratch that)  has influenced an entire generation with his music. Endless spitting of metaphors in his songs making us all wonder how he came up with them. Atleast his doing him, and I’m doing me right now, so you do you!!! 

Anyways, enough of that now. With Lil Wayne’s metaphor, I can comfortably proced with what my bored mind has decided, this time round, to come up with. And by the way , I was just lucky enough to hop onto a bodaboda with speakers loud enough to burst your ears. I tell you, for a moment, I was confused whether the guy driving the motorbike was one a famous rapper-gone-south. From the infinite amount of chains on the neck. I it was those chains are are extremely long and one wound around the neck, one can think you’re wearing several chains. Basically twenty-something in one. So there I am, heading to the matatu stage a few kilometers away on the bodaboda. The loud music he was playing was Hip Hop. And for the Hip Hop fans, you can agree that the sweetness lies in the base. That hard vibration and boom that constitutes the whole song. Each time that beat ‘dropped’ the whole motorbike shook as though an earthquake was underway. Then vibration is fed into your soul and you feel your heartbeat rhyming with the beat. With the motorbike at record breaking speed and the music blowing your soul, you reach your destination without realising it. Sorcery of the highest order. Well, amidst the bumpy yet fantastic ride, those Lil Wayne’s lyrics magically found themselves in my ears and went further into my brain. Next thing I know, two days later , I’m writing this piece. 

It so turns out, I don’t know why, we are divided into two. The haves and have nots. Well not technically have nots, but the have -a -little. In between there’s one hell of a gap. I call it The Gap. For the two decades I have managed to live in this cruel world by the grace of God, I have managed to have interactions with both sides of the Gap. And they completely differ with each other in all ways imaginable. So let’s begin with the Haves. Those living in the uptown parts of the city. Well -furnished roads with beautiful gardens and large mansions are a daily norm. Porsche cars cruising through the ever smooth roads are a normal routine. Trust me when you a stroll in these neighborhoods you will hate your life and fill your brains with wonders on why you are not living in that estate. I have learnt a few things here and there about the haves. One thing for sure, I mean 100% sure about all of them is privacy. Privacy is of high importance to them. Each home is separated by a very thick,high wall and on top of it, an electric fence is unceremoniously mounted alongside barbed wire. And the gate is manned at all times by a guard with two large German Shepherds. I wonder if these guys know about something called Nyumba kumi. They literally live in their own world. You can spend almost the whole of your lifetime not uttering a single word, or even glancing the person living next to you. And the haves also value their security. There’s no way you’re filthy rich and you live in an open compound. What do you expecti! I think it’s because the haves probably toiled their way to the top. And the path to success is a fucked one. The more you rise, the more you encounter challenges and of course not everyone wishes you well. Or another way is that they probably did some bad things to be where they are. That aside, the haves are ever busy : trying to make their accounts overflow with money. Basically I take the good  tips you know, positive vibes and all. So, you’re welcome. 

Now, let’s cross the bloody Gap and hop into the other side. The have-a-little. The humble side. The downtown side of the city. You come into this place and the livelihood fills your spirit. The estate is bustling with all sorts of activitie. People everywhere, selling everything. When you are here you feel elevated. Hustlers are born and bred in these tough places. And surprisingly, it’s this side of the gap where talent is born. All sorts of talents are orchestrated here. People with amazing capabilities but lack adequate funding to further their cause. And by the way,this one thing here,you will all agree with me on. This side of the gap is united in such an amazing way. People leave as brothers and sisters. You can literally walk into any house and ask for anything you want :be it food, name it. Humility at its best, I may say. People have little yet are willing to help others regardless of whether they know you or not. In short, everybody knows everybody here. And furthermore the day never seems to end. People are constantly on the move. As night approaches and some return home from a hard day’s work, others are preparing to go to work. Bartenders and all. Each one trying to find means of supporting their lives. Where self-made originates actually. 

Well, that’s about it. My creative juices are nearly extinguished. I really have nothing more to add right now. Too bad. But don’t worry. A sip of hot coffee in the morning ,a stroll by the oceanside and some laughter with friends will refresh my creativity to superhuman levels.

Humanity Restored 

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

“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. 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 

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.