Spoiled Christmas

Preparation to impress or rather fit the Christmas expectation had been fruitful,until last night. All the bucks in the savings account since last September were spent on Saturday: shoes, clothes and smartphones. Gifts to take home. This festive season was to be one of a kind. First year on the graduate contract with the varsity.

######

When a lover becomes a traitor,that's the day therapists get jobs to do, clients to listen to and unsolicited advises to offer. This is made wisely worse a few days to Christmas week,and the shopping stripped. A surprise anticipated not in the wildest thought.

 SHE ATE FAST



He recalled that morning. How she woke up late, how she helped herself to a pancake as she offered advice on what to shop. She took a record three minutes in the bathroom and still a far much shorter three and a half minutes dressing. No makeup,no lipstick. A simple jelly smear and an almost forgotten spray was all she had. Flat brown shoes a simple knee length blue dress,and an enormous shopping bag. Pretty even in simplicity, a stare and aspire rear, a provoking pair of rivaling mounds pointing ahead, deep dimples on the chocolate face to mention but a few, maybe the explanation for the shock. Ready to shop for Christmas.

Simple but outstanding. :photo courtesy

#########

The tour to the gift shops and emporia was full of fun and brilliant exploration. Series of pecks, heightened humour. His doubts and questions were met with a cliche, Christmas means happiness and the best version of it. A statement he contemplated intensively later.

 He could hardly imagine how all these had occurred. She stopped. Thought. Had a nagging idea. Take everything. Leave. Let him suffer. Leave. He doesn't deserve you. Leave. For sheer malice. Go. That was not the case.

It was a premeditated move. She had it planned for a long time. The entry of a new exciting brat with the best argument; he's your teacher,unfit to love you,in fact your affair is illicit. Rip him off,join me let's have an age appropriate relationship.

#########

Mr. Tee, a film assistant lecturer, a postgraduate student met Grace as a lost pretty first year student. The latter was impressed by the gentle budding don. Her family troubles and financial constraints found a listening ear and a helping hand. Mr. Tee didn't have much but his heart was big. Grace moved in, emotionally and was reading a future life together. Maybe she was naive,maybe too moralistic. That saw her stick to the situation, making hopes for the ambitious professor to be.

He was gentle and helpful. And she loved it. Photo courtesy

The day's fatigue was a motivational dose for good sleep. Two hours. That was sufficient for the heinous deed. All the remaining cash was emptied into the handbag. The said gifts were packed in a suitcase. And her clothes, the bulk he has been upgrading since they met was in the other two large bags. All set, she left.

She left a note, her phone was unreachable...

STRESSED:A wasted man. Betrayed goodness,stolen Christmas. PHOTO:COURTESY

DALLIANCE

Well, I'll have to break the promise. After all, I don't give the vows simply because I believe they're unnecessary ties, chains and all time reminders. That may be the explanation why my grandma will outlive her desire to see a grandchild from me.

####

It was the first weekend in college. A tour around the new home was suggested by Jiggy, our enlightened lady and high school mate. Her record was outstanding not only in papers, adventure but also in crooked antics. How she mobilised a bunch of twenty strangers is still incomprehensible. Perhaps, we were still naive and curious to know,ready to follow anyone who proved to lead. 

The first three days after admission were long. Settling down and knowing roommates was the much that could be done. The idea of an outing wasn't a chance to gamble with, but and opportunity to seize. Then the fun of it was the diversity. All areas were fully represented be it national schools, bush mannerisms, brown skin, shaven heads,Tom boys, curvaceous bodies,slender...

########

Mingling. How do you start a conversation with a straight A lady with the Queen's speech finesse? We struggled. We made acquaintances. We exchanged contacts( I had to orally administer mine and write the given, thanks to my C113's battery).

Jiggy was a strategist. She had promised us that were to explore and declare territories of interest as soon as we left the college gate. That was a special piece of advice for David,Foul and I,Jim. She cared for her buddies and since she'd already secured herself a third year, she wanted us busy elsewhere. She wasn't ready for whines and envious chats.

Dalliance- struck my attention from her name,looks,humour and height. I knew that the joke made by auntie was on its launch;get us a pretty one alongside your bachelor's paper,otherwise, don't come home.

I had no hard time engaging her. She was open,brilliant and well read. Maybe that was my deepest abyss, half the time we spent was comparing Portia and Juliet, discussing the cruelty of Shylock, all the Shakespearean world of love. She shared her secret desire, writing. I promised(hell I was only a good dummy) to show her my A4 sized book of poetic ventures. I thought it a good long shot for maintaining contact, it was.

#########

Foul and David had their shares. Bold than the devil, Foul made an impact, amongst all the ladies( girls). I was particularly concerned over the way he grinned to us, Dalliance and Jim. What assured my soul was the pre-tour agreement, once a sphere of interest has been declared, respect the boundaries.

###### ##

Dalliance and I became the best. Best friends. Her rich collection of street novels ensured that I had a great deal, reading. And that ensured that I had no idea what was going on. Her birthday was approaching, so was my conviction,time to drop the bombshell. We planned the bash. Jiggy saw to it that nothing but the best was available.

### ####

Gifts. Speeches. Surprises. Fun. The event was at its optimal when the birthday 'rose' rose to make the final remarks. She thanked all. Spent a minute reminiscing how Jiggy's idea brought us together. Her first real friend, book enthusiast and confidant,Jim. She gave me a special place in her soul and asked me to rise, gave a warm hug and an elongated peck slightly beside my cheek. I was about to say how honoured I was to have her and how ready I was to take it to the next level when, she pulled a surprise,sat me down politely...

" Ladies and gentlemen, I don't intend to end the speech without introducing my spinal cord controller,darling and the bearer of the smelliest name,

Photo: Courtesy

Mr. Foul...."

I missed the rest of the words, self called and left the room to pick my sorry sorrow.

I promised to never share the experience. I don't mind keeping the promise,just as my friendship with Dalliance and Foul.

#Nomys_Madness

Painful Change

Photo: Courtesy

Nuksi  is a Swahili word I've been taking for grunted( yeah, the pig's) until a few minutes ago. Having left home due to Uncle Brat's effect( http://simongichimu.blogspot.co.ke/2016/11/uncle-brat.html?m=1), I bumped unto Auntie Mwitio's den. I should have thought better. Work is the only definition she knows for success. Diligence is a solid practice in her compound. Anyway, I have no problem working, in fact since I entered her compound, two manual labourers have been rendered redundant. And that's the dawn of my tribulations, the only thing left in the name of a worker is looking for all ways to have me die soon.

My little experience in milking can be attributed to be a Natural Cause of Disaster. Since I relieved the rest the noble duty, the quantity (and quality)has improved from ten litres to thirteen per milking session. Nine litres each day! It's either there was a crazy conduit, a cartel network for smuggling, the cow was under fed or both. This has made us a good family, a poor human resource relationship. The Matiang'i or is it the Ayiro feeling is popular among the masses but a shortcut to assassination. Fruit production has also rose,but milk is the main,heart, direct nerve that has made the farm hostility and happiness shoot.

Today's schedule saw me in the field. My reputation to curb loopholes is spreading like bushfire. I have been receiving funny calls from the neighbours' daughters, a bunch of form four leavers whose intention is to confirm how well I can lose a sweat on them.( Ouch off the topic again!). I was monitoring the potato bags, selecting, directing and acting as a catalyst, speeding up the rate of energy production. The looks I got,sneers and sly laughs made me uneasy.

#######

So I was to milk,I did. What was done to cow, what they fed, what it inhaled and what it imbibed; I'm yet to know. All I I can confirm is that the conspiracy goal was passed to my instant fame animal.

It all began the way the cow breathed as I escorted it to the parlour. So loud and inconsistent. It relaxed a bit as I milked. As I was winding up, it threw the first kick. It missed the bucket and my face. I should have left. The the next kick followed, double kick,I dodged. Landing was the best twist, one leg was in the bucket, the next one on my toe. A dilemma to save my shapeless toe or the milk wasn't easily solved. I shrieked, the doomed servant was watching, with no hurry to save anyone. Smiling like a demon confusing a good soul. The toe was left much worse than it was. I have managed to salvage milk, half the amount, brown in colour.

On my way to buy the Elastoplast, I have heard whispers. The cow hates cats, allergic and super phobic. Then I remember seeing the idiot encouraging the cat to ask for milk from me. I'm leaving him too. But vengeance must be featured, from all possible corners. I'm having a cold, Aunty is listening and she's on my side. Change is a challenge.

#Nomys_Madness

UNCLE BRAT

A long holiday calls for interaction with all sans selection. In the name of family ties and society dictations, Uncle Brat is at our home, his late brother's den. This is the zone where the poverty store used to be, until the owner, our sly lazy dad departed with the hated state. Recently, our mother has been so busy in the land and women group savings. This has made our lives better as we have been left to our own devices. Uncle Brat and Dad were extreme contrasts, heaven and hell.


While Dad was a relentless unconcerned deadbeat, Uncle Brat is responsible and enduringly concerned with the particulate details on any deed or idea. Doubtless, we are used to a do as you wish parenting scene. Uncle Brat is therefore our worst nightmare, our greatest pain and worry.


Uncle Brat landed on Saturday. It is unthinkable, even,  to imagine that he is here for a month. The night he landed, armed with a 'diiriga mucii' ( 1.5 kg bread) marked his triumphant entry. His main business is to install fatherly roots and he asserted his position as soon as he finished the precious dinner of green mukimo served with the stupid jogoo that has been misleading us on the time to wake. He knows what it means to be a dad,a great uncle. He took my bed and we began quarrels immediately. He can't fathom how a man uses white sheets and full of feminine scents. It took my brother's swearing that no lady tours our cubicle to get him off my back. I have tried to save my sheets by changing and washing them daily, not a good joke. He insists mother should do it as he's a husband by virtue of being Daddy's brother.


Playing low has been mechanically installed. For instance, Jamie called yesterday and Uncle Brat picked. To his utter dismay, he learnt of my nickname, nugu. How could a good old uncle-cum-dad understand how youths have no issue calling each other craziest names?


My phone was not free from creating mountains out of mole hills. Uncle Brat sought an explanation as to why I was holding a girl so close to my body and yet to inform 'them' of plans to wife her. Jenny, my college mate visited this morning and you know ours are not handshakes but firm,tight embrace and a soft peck. Uncle Brat has been sweating and swearing to leave. He wonders how mum has allowed us to wander in the maze of foreign traits.


Uncle Brat is uncomfortable with the boys doing kitchen work. What he's not aware is that mum rarely visit the cooking chamber. He is so disappointed that food he's expected to take is prepared by his nephews.


The greatest pain he has suffered is attempting to unravel the content of my mini library,he has made a call to the pastor and the chairman Nyumba Kumi for a special counsel to the 'lost sheep'. The covers are scary, titles embarrassing,content disgusting. I am set to be buried alive or cremated before resting. How on earth can one be reading a series of texts whose content is only vulgarity, penetration and revolution?


 Uncle Brat is not too keen on media and technology.Our gadgets are demons. His keenness and discipleship are accorded to prayers before meals and bedtime.


It's the third day since he landed, and the imagination that he has twenty seven more days is the best motivation. If he doesn't speed up his departure, I just may die prematurely.


#Nomys_Madness

JN THE MILLIONAIRE

He's selling like a bag of IDP flour. His ego has got a real nice massage. His stammering tongue is silencing the chatterbox machines. And well, girls are choking each other for him. JN, Josphat Ndundu is the new millionaire in the bushy village, thanks to Kamuti Prisoners Tomfoolery Department.

Ndundu has received a jackpot message this morning that a one Mr. Abdul Hussain, a director of a shipping company in UAE has lost a contact lady. He has however decided to be an asset to the clientele in East Africa and couldn't risk to stop business. That's when lady luck dangled her alternate competitive protrusions for his sucking. Abdul picked his number, sent him Ksh. 100 million as the initial amount to keep the business running.

The only little setback to the maturation of the aforementioned amount, is the activation fee, Ksh. 60 000. Luckily, JN has a good savings account with fifty thousand which he withdrew as soon as he could. The remaining amount he has promised to give 10% to whoever contributes it. Kicks are flying, noses bleeding and insults hurled as the scramble for the jackpot continues.

The given number is impatient. The transaction is bound to bounce if JN doesn't speed up. Or alternatively, the fruit to be dangled to a person with stronger muscles to chew it.

I bump into the village with pomp and noise. The newest Igo motorcycle is my newest ride and I have to part with a massive Ksh.25 per ride. As I climb down, the self appointed communications officer Manua, is already briefing me on how lady luck has landed in our bushy village. My trial to explain what it means to be victims of a SCAM, achieves nothing but division, heated arguments and the brand JEALOUS BRAT. The firm supporters gift me a few kicks and as I type this, my left index finger is getting a nice bandage as my right eye strains to see after a tour by handful of soil. Thanks to my Igo Ride chauffeur, I would be hugging Abraham's broad chest.

I hear that immediately after my departure,JN has led the village to Canaan of prosperity by sending the little fee to activate millions, wait, a HUNDRED MILLION! I must be a misleading crook who deserves death for scaring jackpot for his own. If what my friend, he who was on my side and partially defended me is anything to go by,the account will be activated in five days time. In the meantime, the contacting number has toured UNREACHABLE world.

Tomorrow,no, after five days, I'll be making a public apology to JN and Co at least to get a million bob loan to publish nonsensical satires.

#Nomys_Madness

REPERCUSSIONS...

It's exactly seventy two hours since the head of state pardon to petty offenders. Jigo is back. The rapist is out. The paedophile is free. The sodomized bro is trembling. Daniela's nightmares have resumed.

There's something funny,peculiar about the way he stares and smiles; slyly. His confidence is absolutely so high. How he assumes all is well,sharing his reform strategies and salvation to everyone. The pastor has recently detailed on the sermons of forgiveness and acceptance. He doesn't know how the families are uneasy.

Let him hover all over but not near Durume's property. He swore to be good to him but not to ever see him. His daughter's misery dawned after the reformist messed her. The doctor's confirmation that she can't be a mother was worst. He's yet to tell her. He wonders how to. The class performance deteriorated. Social isolation rose. It has taken three years in psychological and motivation to help her stabilise. Evidence lacked and he was only charged with rape of his wife. And now he's out as a petty offender!

Elsewhere, Justin the innocent soul who was fixed by the village bourgeoisie is out. The daughter he didn't want touched joined her ancestors last April having doped and contracted the deadly virus. Justice at last!

#Nomys_Madness.

THE SERMON

The man of the church was in charge. The shepherd of the flock is a talented preacher. His actions can only be defined by vigour and valour.
His mastery of the Word is wild. He is not only convincing,confusing but also excellent in quoting and interpreting the word. He knows how to manipulate it for all his desires.

Last Wednesday, after great mourning and burial of my brother's wife,the weather and time were my opponents. I couldn't make it to Kangui village. A good conversationalist,the shepherd imbibed my fears and offered to host me in his makeshift home. My brother was happy since his two bedroom house was already crowded.

Having eaten at my brother's, the business in the shepherd's den was simple sleep. Fatigue and the immense crying during the day created a good motivation to sleep,soundly,so soon.

I thought I was dreaming, then my attention stole the sleep. My pyjama was moving. There was a funny protrusion on my back. I turned, the shepherd was snoring. Unaware that I wasn't asleep, he turned me and he was hard,super excited. I jumped off the bed,clenched the fists and shouted, 'What the hell are you doing?'

He sprung,faster,on birth suit. Before I could act he was all over me,hands so strong. I couldn't shout,I was shocked and choked. Luckily as a man, I knew where the balls were. I believe the left one had its shell broken as he shrieked and coiled cursing...

Today, a new shepherd was leading the flock,the other one got defrocked.

#Nomys_Madness 

TIME TO ACT

"Relax," she ordered him. His anger was updating like an application. How could she?

She was only too silly to be silent that long. His duty was simple; pay bills. She had her specified features for her lineage and sadly,his input was phenotypic.

### #### ###

"So I'm a mere foster, without my knowledge," he asked passively in a statement more in a monologue than to an existing soul.

She shook her head. Stared at her daughters in a quizzical look of are-you-blind-big-boy. He realised that the only similarity with the pretty dolls was a mere bunch of mannerisms. Only a fool would waste time and resources on DNA tests.

He was the father, foster. Blood was blurred,actually non-existent...

### ### ###

Mwathi and Muthoni got married as soon as they left college. They hardly waited for the graduation list to be released. On the last night after sitting for the last paper, they resolved to start life together. That night, Mwathi swam in the deepest swamp amid the lilies. He was the luckiest boy,he thought so.

### ### ###

Girl talk. The rules were simple,no man,no boy, not even a male flea was allowed in the room. The discussion was exclusively feminine or most appropriately, feminist. The ideas got jumbled up. Laughter. Challenge. Aggression. Agreement. All that mattered were the ideas to curb the chauvinism that was eminent in the society. Such talks usually took place in girls' hostels. That's where Muthoni got her lesson -you-are-the-determinant-of-father. The debate was hot, just like the speakers. The ideological backing was not only mean but also shrewdly weird.

How they fancied some men,their brilliance but not their arrogance. They did research. They narrowed down to genetic and acquired characteristics. The solution was reached, fix a dude when ovulating,time well accurately, get what you need,look for a rearing fool, let him believe you. Getting a preferred offspring is that easy!

### ### ###

Models, feminists,fashionistas and activists unfortunately dropped the terms and fantasies next to the college gate. They dressed in reality and settled with what they got. Accepted kids to be heavenly gifts, irrespective of the conditions aspired. For Muthoni, the case was different. She was a go getter and couldn't settle for less. She pursued her dreams,achieved her desires, enjoyed life until...

### ### ###

Diana was a roommate in college. She knew all the radical tendencies that Muthoni harboured. She was her confidante. That day, nine years after school,she bumped unto her friend by sheer coincidence. She could hardly grasp how her naughty roommate could have settled with the meek church boy so well. They agreed to meet at her place in the poshy Milimani Estate. That's when hell broke loose, the church boy heard the worst nightmare. The daughters he had raised so well were not his.

### ### ###

He was thinking fast,faster than a head of an ousted state. How could she?
He needed to act, to take the best step. Nine years in a fake family. Nine years in a lie. Nine years ago, he made a terrible mistake. Nine years of his life wasted.

He looked at her,eyes full of rage. The friend sneaked out. He raised his voice,words failed him. He tried to move, the joints joined his wife in betrayal. However when he...

#Nomys_Madness

Mind Of A Deviant Kid...(Part One)

 

Hiti was lost in his little thoughts. Ten years seemed a century. Missing father,violent uncles,pinching grandma,a mystical mother and a pack of mischievous cousins. An only child, his troubles transcended his age. He couldn't fit in his own pond of thoughts.

 Sometimes,he questioned his curiosity and critical head. He believed he had missing washers and a few loose nuts. Not that he had a problem with it,no. In fact he mesmerized the idea of the perceived uniqueness.

His appetite for knowledge and a curious note dawned as soon as he could speak. The grandma, a traditionalist who missed an excellent opportunity to marry the richest tycoon -Waithaka-was always bitter with her generation. She took too short a time to suggest their names(her descendants). She hated and couldn't understand how her late husband could die at a tender age of forty. She wept over his death. She wailed on his coffin. She lamented on his grave. She hated her soul for falling for a nice voiced man, a poetic,romantic brat with negligible skills of making money. Hiti asked why he was named Hiti (hyena,a gluttonous,slanting ugly creature). She compared him to the granddaddy.

"Your gluttonous grandfather tricked my sorry youthfulness to his worthless art. He talked,sang and composed of heavens, only to land me in an empire of lack and poverty. And what a rabbit are you to question my intelligence?"this was followed by coloration of inner thighs by the blackened fingers. He didn't expect less,the price of knowledge. At least he knew more than his cousins.

His head was clear,he was suffering an ancestral wrath of his no making. His mother's spirituality wasn't making anything better. Her attempts to exorcise him made him keep off her paths. She could act weirdly,she needed exorcism than he did. She once shared a story of his father. Then, Hiti was at ease with her. She appeared composed,normal, realistic and for the first time he noted her beauty. She glowed. She cared. She smiled.

" The day I met your father, a gentleman of no comparison,I was on my way from the river. At that time, the boys knew no meaning of underpants. To say the least, fathers were lucky to have two. He stood by the roadside. A stranger in his homeland, he had left the village as a boy to study in Nyaikuru. He only reappeared during circumcision and left as soon as the ceremony was over. His studies in secondary school was a prove of his enormous brain. On that day, he ensured I got his attention by helping carry my pot. A good orator,he explained school for me. A real school, not our muddy skeleton on the hill. A school that had electricity! Brick classes, glass windows,painted and cemented! That school, had big shelved office for books,very many,plenty he said." She had a nostalgic pause. She spat a huge foam,coughed slightly staring in the sky as if clicking on the restore memory button.

"He talked of watered pitches. Very flat,worked on by big earth shaking machines he called...graders. They had leather balls and jerseys as those I once saw on the newspaper that wrapped the meat I brought from uncle when I was thirteen years old. Then he stopped the narrative. He carefully placed the pot by the road.He looked into my eyes, held my hand gently. He breathed heavily and said that he wanted me. He would have me. I had no choice. That day, by the roadside,I carried his seed."

The following segment had nothing much interesting. He had heard from the elder uncle. How their sister was duped,denied and how they vowed to avenge.

 Unfortunately, the man's influence and affluence grew unexpectedly. He despised and dismissed to have ever slept with an illiterate village girl. If anything, he couldn't mind sending a few upkeep bucks for the 'alleged' bastard. The deal was silently sealed. Save for the grandma, no one else had an idea. Was it not rumoured that the mother 'jumped' her head on realisation that the gentleman turned crook?

A Work In Progress (part two)

His fitting attire strikes her attention too,not to mention the broad chest;a security assurance.

" I'm Patience,a beginner in the medical school. I wouldn't mind having you for a patient in more than one-way."
The chemistry seems headed to biological future. Bun cuts short their flattery. The-Girl-is-Mine is the expression on his hug. So possessive. He winks to bid his boy goodbye lest they're caught at the dawn. Bun can't afford to leave without a contact. A satisfied womanizer, it took too short for him to do it.
The dispatcher and Bin are all smiles,the kick off is excellent. Bin has to bump in to be an active element;a friend to the protagonist.

##########

The Girl is made a visitor. The shower, touts, meals, friends are revised. The relationship is founded firmly. A few hours later, the goodbyes are made.

#########

The bonds are strengthened.
Both. The Girl is enjoying a double love. The friends are happy. Their plan is beyond their expectations. And their road is so nice,they're doubting it.

"Let's burst. Let's bust her. Let's open the Pandora's Box."

Bond is a bit reluctant. He's humane. He however recalls the start was rotten,there's no business of a happy ending. At least on her part. How stupid can she be to trust a relationship originating from a social media platform?

"Six chapters,72 pages the novella is a masterpiece! We can't delay the climax anymore."reports Ban excitedly.

Bun has been planning to taste the juice. She's enjoying resistance as if waiting for a new day. He's bitter and nods comfortably, she needs busting.

##########

She arrives earlier than expected. She seems uneasy. "I have a confession dear.
 hope you'll understand."she seems to read his mind. He buys more time. His boys are next door, rehearsing the final episode.

"Hold on. You'll do it,let's eat first."
There's a knock. Bond is seen for the first time. Like a movie producer, he's the brain behind the scene and Patience stares at him. Bin follows,he hugs her, enjoying the massive flesh on her front. They eat but not long much, before the villain enters grinning;Bun.

She smiles and concentrates on her fish,her confession is made easier...

#########

The team manager leads the confession. She seems composed. They're confused. Is she real? Why is she enjoying the adventure?

He gives details of the little mission. How they wanted to help their friend write a book. How they promised to make it up to him. That they work as a pack and this was their best task. A love story, from social media platform, a stupid girl who is exploited,manipulated unknowingly. How sorry they are.

Still unmoved,Patience smiles. She takes a long siphon of her ' Sprite madiaba'.She takes a massive amount of oxygen. She enjoys the attention,suspense and power of a woman. Four men, scholars awaiting her bomb.

##########

" I apologize for playing buddies. I'm sorry to have been naive to fall you two and playing your script. I didn't know I was such a dummy."
She takes a nice malicious break. They relax but they're sensing a dragon spit. Their undivided composure pester her to proceed. Bin gets a reminisce flash surrounding his granny with his cousins in a smoky kitchen awaiting the endless long story to end unexpectedly. This is not fictitious granny's narrative. He's a real victim. He wonders as his mind wanders what's the moral of this story.

"It has been a work in progress. I am a major in psychology. I have a nice assignment;a project funded by a multinational centre of excellence; Modern Psychology. The centre uses ALL MEANS POSSIBLE to get information. The task on my table was to establish on the Reality of Social Media Relationships: A case study of varsity students.The entry of your friend on my mission to study you gave me an added advantage. But I regret that you were all faking innocence. I can't risk to admit that to my financiers though."

Bond sweats profusely. He affords to smile over her regret but still grants over her out do.

A Work In Progress (part one)

He's been reading through the pages, rewriting the script and fixing new thoughts. It's an hour since her last call.

"I'll cook you the best recipe my grandma confided to me. I'm seated next to a stinky tout so boil and disinfect my bathing water. I'm coming darling."

This is their first meeting. The real one for that matter. Online, virtually as the lecturer insists to term it, they've met a million times. She threw the bait,he swallowed it tactically,for a writer's naughtiness and nuttiness of course!

He hasn't given much thought to her quest. His brain is running, tickling and reorganizing to complete the script. He is yet to declare the coveted, cursed and ridiculed writer's block. However, his creative rivers have never got so low. She's a godsend, a stitch in time.

The fellow fools have heard the story, launched laughter and critique bombs, but have also not slept in making a strategy. The good thing with the baggy mouthed crooks, they won't cry, they help solve the crisis. How they do it is not humanly acceptable; only a fellow fool can enjoy it.

"Nishafika maegeshoni. U wapi?" She enquires in a deeply accented Swahili. The location, dressing are peculiarly enquired. The three boys strategically posted by the dispatcher are alerted of the development. The gigantic crook is assigned the best duty, testing the waters. 'Confuse her, make her feel you're caring enough to help her find her friend.' The boss(dispatcher) was stern on this and the big fool smiled, he was an expert in perversion and faking innocence. He couldn't mess in his maestro.

The trio has no particular expertise. Three brats that can feature in any crazy role. Naughty. Mischievous. Laughter grenades that needed hard to release safety pins, otherwise... A trio of jacks that only required a few tips to fit in any situation. Ban, Bin and Bun. Rhyming, three lettered and peculiar words. The speculations couldn't lead one astray; names and characters were like the aorta and the heart; inseparable.

Ban, a rather weird name. Anyone with good sense of patriotism should keep off his paths. All the DON'TS are his DOS, all the HAVE NOTS are his MUST HAVE. That's is not limited to tangible items, his thoughts are a madhouse. His biggest contrast,like a major gangster is his dress code. Not a single model stands out in his presence. His suits can easily make the Italian designers 'ban' their products in the market. This serves him a good cover for his notoriety.

Bin, is the one who clears the mess. He knows his way to the bin. He sanitises the team. He keeps their face. Thanks to his preaching father, he has a million verses on his fingertips, a knowledge best utilized in masking.

Bun knows all about food and money. He's basically the thinktank. His appetite is best spared for another page, for it extends from the dining table, bedding blondes and brutality for money. His appetite, ensures no one starves. He's the giant of the pack, courtesy to ancestry and tours to the gym.Mention a desire, Bun will avail an item!

The dispatcher, the boss is rarely named. His name is a bit off the three lettered circle,not very far though;Bond. His duty is simply harmonizing the extremism of his fellow fools. His thoughts are sober, his decisions sensible. He is the link to normalcy and that puts him a step above the rest. Don't be mistaken to assume that he's your everyday gentleman;no. He's also nuts, only to a humanly acceptable limit.

##########

Bun is struggling with a confused accent. At least she's cooperative albeit the rotational eye roll. This lass has the big clear teary eyes, which Bun knows will be a stone to the mission. Chances of him falling for the friend's fish are a hundred percent. She has a skin tone that ascertain his betrayal a must.

"I'm Bun. A sophomore majoring in anthropology. A helping hand, a saviour of the lost tourists;especially the pretty ones of your ilk." He hits her soft spot with such ease that she's hardly resistant....

Continued in the next post

My Boy Girl

Her physique is curve-free,
Her voice deep and muscles protruded,
Her name doesn't make it easier,
Jerioth which is shortened Jerry,
With an upside down pot head shape,
And a liking of the barbershop,
She's a boy in a girl.

Jerry and skirts are heat and ice,
Dresses an excellent joke,
Shorts, t-shirts and denim fill her minute wardrobe,
Her footwear canvas and loafers,
Socks an option she drops,
Bras she despises,she likes natural freedom,
Luckily she's yet to sag...

Her company made of dogs and boys,
A fierce fighter and mockery pro,
She loves hunting and boxing for leisure,
Emotionless brat,
Hugs and tears a distant display,
Funny to the core;loves kisses and caresses,
Especially when she's in charge.

Her talk is neither on gossip nor food,
Metaphysics and politics,
Stock market and medicine,
International law and dreams,
Psychiatry and psychology,
An intellectual giant of rare comparison...

Jerry has no room for dependence,
She pays her bills,
Clears her fees,
And sets aside emergency funds,
An investment brute,
She's made more than her father and grandpa in her twenties...

Jerry the boy girl,
Believes in true love,
But despises all violations,
She can't stand oppression,
For she's independent and knows her rights.

Jerry the boy girl,
Jerry the man lady,
Jerry the....

#Nomys_Madness

SIXTY FIVE DAYS AGO...

It's has been two months,sixty five days to be exact. The roommate and her have had a life together. Only the landlady, the massive chest bearer with flat rear(they jokingly baptised her Lollipop) who has a clue that they had no prior knowledge of each other. Her office was the meeting point.

Beat, as Ben prefers to call her, is an MSc student who got bored sharing her nagging aunt's apartment. She calls her a modern version of Wangu wa Makeri, the legendary Gikuyu lady dictator. Her uncle is a regional branch manager of Faidika Bank. His authority ends in his office, at home he is a babysitter, a housewife and a nurse to the ever angry nag, the aunt. If that's her uncle's position, hers was a slightly above modern slavery.

Beat, is a music loving soul. Her real name is Beatrice, Ben cut it to Beat as a symbolic reference to her enjoyment of music beats. In addition, she fell for his poetry, love poetry to be precise. She has that brilliance to master, recite and dramatize his poetry. He has amidst much rebellion, recorded some of the presentations.

Ben, an MA student in Creative Writing is the infamous roommate. He was the spring of the alien idea, 'Let's share the available room' he suggested to the stranger. She blushed, then sternly lectured him that she wasn't a loose lady, a dangling ripe fruit by the roadside, ready to be picked by any pedestrian and the manner less bikers. He stole her show by a simple diversion, 'Coffee or tea?' He pointed to the direction of cafe across the road. They had just left the landlady and her new plot with a promise that one of them will be the tenant of the single bedroom on the first floor. She was perplexed. She'd wait.

They are coffee addicts, great brewers and on Saturday, their only day off, they tour Java for the best quality. Coffee bound them, like life smokers, they relax over it. They open up, share their mysteries and miseries. That day, sixty five days ago, they agreed to share the available room. It was convenient for both. She had her high density three and a half Bobmil mattress, he had a same sized bed. He had a gas cooker, she had utensils. They complemented and later complimented each other.

The rules were simple,she had the house the whole day, and he had it for the night, save for the weekends. She worked as a night shift accountant in the Bantas Hotel, courtesy of her 'sat on' uncle who created a connection, and her mother's love for accounts that saw her complicate her law studies with accounts, which she had a CPAK certificate. She hated it. Her law degree wasn't much helpful either, she cursed and ridiculed the very root of her career, a law clerk. A fortnight was sufficient to make it a loose end. She despised her youthful desires and sacrifices. A postgraduate was her next pursuit, she preferred lecturing to running up and down looking for and lying for clients, poisoning the society with immorality. Luckily, she had a funny roommate who made a life by putting down all the absurdities and adversaries in a fictitious humorous world. At the beginning, they had reservations but currently their tension is a joke. Who could have imagined that they could share t-shirts, khakis, sneakers and once in a while boxers? They made a pair of idiots whose laughter during their day off made the newlyweds next door envy them, maliciously of course.

Ben was a creative editor at a gutter press that struggled to confuse the advertisers in the name of convincing them. His days were mainly spent online,doing his research than editing. His contract demanded editing ten stories a day which he couldn't waste two hours on. The Boss,a former newspaper vendor loved his arguments, guidance and language mastery. The only he fear harboured;his editor was too qualified that he risked to be poached by the cruel giant corporations. Ben was at ease, he promised to stay. He knew that his ventures, studies and writing were best taken care of in such an environment. .    




His departure from the varsity with a degree in Linguistics and Literature was a great ego booster but a license in job hunting, which he couldn't easily fathom. His days were spent glued to the old mini laptop, the only reminder of his undergraduate loan. He couldn't help but type articles for a few upkeep bucks. His city survival was highly supported by his village friend who generously hosted him until sixty five days ago, when he had a new thought. And a new job that saw him enrol for a postgraduate degree that his host despised profusely as a waste of money that is scarce.

##########

Ben and Beat shared their stories, coursework, views,room, towels, bed but not bodies, at least not yet. The closest contact they ever have is a pat, slap,a hug or a peck in an extremely awkward situation when something really nice happens.

Today's topic is a dilemma. Beat's sweetheart, whom she says is a beholder of a shaky relationship, is coming. His departure from the bush, where he teaches Geography and History is facilitated by the school so that he can attend a conference he lied about. His conference is the darling, who 'lives on her own in the city .'

Ben's Cinderella, a character in his sixty five day old manuscript 'Climbing Business' and also highly featured in his 'Absurd Love Poetry Collection' is also claiming to land in his abode, since' he is now living in his own house, on his own.' She's planning to hang around for a few days as she sorts out her complicated transcripts. She had a special examination courtesy of a careless common course lecturer who awarded her a mere 26 out 100!

Coming up with a solution is inevitable. The time is not helpful, it's running like a maiden hen after the cock spits on her for the first time. Her guy is silent, humble but critical. Cinderella is a jerk, but not in presence of strangers. They're certain to be treading on eggshells, not that it matters. The two newcomers have two options, they either understand them, or leave. The third option is obvious but not yet tabled, give them freedom to swim in the sea of their refrained fantasies. By the best addition, their friends believe they're a pair too shy to confess their love.

Bit(yes, that's his name) is the first to arrive. He hugs Beat warmly and due to his intuitive caution, he spares her the kiss, not until she explains who he is.

Cinderella does the same. She hopes that they're just friends and will be out soon.

The introductions are suspended until lunch is taken. Beat, the lawyer in the house, will lead the arbitration process. Ben is waiting to touch his keyboard, a climax is in the making, he hopes his fingers will still be intact to type and his skull,to compose the literary juices if not spilling its thick brain somewhere. He hopes that the matter is solved amicably. He curses Beat for rejecting the idea of inviting two friends at least for their own security.

##########

Cinderella is a genius. Yes and all along Ben took her for granted, her studies in sociology must have had a great impact on her reasoning.

"You're a great pair, so at ease with one another.You manage your endeavours and interaction in a remarkable incredulity. With all due respect and honour, I am good to let you be. Explore what you have been keeping for us. Then I hope Bin considers my proposal."

The room is silent. She's right but too bold, too soon. Bin springs like a great warrior, lifts her in the air and there he plants his lips in her worrying face, they kiss as Beat and Ben stare disbelieving.

Beat looks into Bens eyes; seductively,moistening her full red lips, she moves her hand around his neck, uses her index finger to draw around his confused face...
His blood runs, his bell rings uncontrollably,he's certain he'll feature in his masterpiece.

Can You Recall Clarence

DO YOU REMEMBER CLARENCE

 Can you remember Clarence,
The days when the flames made the sky pink,
The days when the minds stopped to think,
Our friends and brothers died as they tried to protect us,
But greatness is good that came to pass...

There were fights and deaths,
The blood flowed,
Like the great Chania,
Tears drew lines Clarence,
Greatness is good that came to pass...

How we were left orphaned as our beloved ones swam
In the abyss never be seen again,
We cried and cuddled together,
As the mass of the graves amassed grief in our souls,
We cried our hearts Clarence,
Our hope was on vacation,
But greatness is good that came to pass.

Do you have this memory Clarence,
When the sponsors came and gave us another chance,
To study in precious schools with zero pay,
How we cried our souls when they separated us Clarence,
We had no choice but accept lest our dreams faded once more,
Greatness is good that came to pass...

Do you reminisce Clarence,
The vows we made Clarence,
On the village hill as we watched sunset and the birds rest in the nests,
Never to separate, to stick together no matter the distance,
That was long ago and childhood was fresh and fantasy was great...

Now we are grown ups Clarence,
Do you mind keeping the vow or you'll cow and bow to pressures of change,
That will kill a great dream we thought to have,
Just be bold enough to tell me the pleasure that you stand for...

I'll never forget your comfort Clarence,
Your determination and the best in the world,
That made me write you a book at tender age,
That made the world wonder how a young boy could know much of love and pain,
But you were the motivation for my art Clarence...

#Nomys_Madness

When I Will Choose A Partner

When I'll choose a partner,
I won't run in a poshy suite,
I'll trod on the muddy routes,
Deep in the big bush,
For I need a real person who knows no guise.

When I'll choose a partner,
I'll keep off far fetched faces,
I'll go for a natural Chiquita,
Who won't wake my artistic ventures with complains,
Of masks peeling off guard,
Of make ups disappointments,
Fake brows dropping,
Chest drooping,
Of butts misfits and misfire...

When I'll be choosing a partner,
I'll go for one without an alien accent,
That seems magnificent,
Until it ceases to be decent,
And the fraud of a nascent,
Exposes the ideal lady innocent...

When I'll choose a partner,
I'll go for a natural Chiquita,
One with genuine beauty,
An epitome of demeanour,
And a great sage in the making,
Whose simplistic approach is a complex to the 'models'...

When I'll be choosing a partner,
I'll keep in touch with the nature,
I'll grab a raw, tampered not fruit,
A first season flower,
An apple that will honey my life,
A chili that will see off the chills in my chilly times...

#Nomys_Madness

A GIRL CALLED JOYCE

Joyce,
She who dated her bosses,
She who begged her teacher's bang,
Joyce is gone.

Joyce,
She who drove a Rolls Royce,
She left her traces in many a lands,
The coughs are on rise,
Courtesy of the late Joyce.

Joyce,
The last one in the pretty series,
Her thighs broke ties,
Her lips undid clips,
Her curves made bends like paths uphill,
Only for the fall in a thud...

Joyce,
Goodbye,
Your team is following you,
And in numbers of that you can't imagine,
Goodbye Jocelyna.

#Nomys_Madness

SNITCH BITCH

She bumped in the other day,
Fresh from the bush,
With a plump devious ego,
A malicious agent,
Like a green mamba on young a grass,
She's slithering slyly,
Collecting crude venom,
And piling on the boss's desk!

Snitch bitch,
The new captain in the pitch,
Undoing any previous stitch,
Her actions sources of itch,
The secret behind any hitch,
Is it right to term her a witch?

Clearly ambitious,
Sacrificing others is auto,
Unfortunately,
We've known her,
Weighing,censoring words,
Is the next highway to survival,
Watching from a distance,
Eavesdropping her chats,
Letting the snitch fail,
For we'll leave not a trail,
For her to tell a tale.

#Nomys_Madness

Jeremy Please

Jeremy the class lover,
Joined the team that drinks,
In bars that your salary lasts an hour,
The sons of country owners,
The daughters of key financial thieves,
And you thought you were stylish...

Your kids will starve like demons for souls,
Your wife will be ragged,
And your papers a tattered bunch,
Love class to lose class?

Jeremy,
Put shoes your fit,
Not shows to your feet,
Your dad wasn't a land grabber,
He was their cobbler,
If you think they're your class,
You'll lick their boots,
Like a hungry desperate mongrel...

Drink in your dens boy,
Save your a*s embarrassment,
Scratch your comfort,
Let your esteem rise,
Above your crazy fantasy...

#Nomys_Madness

In This Area...

Daughter,
This a rare area,
Where men and women,
Old and young,
Elite and illiterate,
Dine and wine in the gossip cafe,
You'll never be surprised,
To be trending yet,
You have not even the vaguest idea!
Steel balls are the least of your package.

Son,
What is unknown to you,
In this area,
The parents send their daughters to you,
And if you fail to fall for them,
Unto your neck they'll be forced,
By rumour spread and allegations,
To survive,
Steel balls are the least of your package.

Brother,
In this woozy wild world,
Sons and their fathers,
Swim in the same shame pools,
Little headscarfed hypocrites enjoy the swing,
Claiming that fruits and seeds are all edible,
Steel balls,
 Are the least of your package to make it here.

Sister,
In this vile village,
Rules are raw,
Pious during the day,
Doomed in the dark nights,
Masters of masking,
A double life only survivable,
If you have a pair of steel balls...

#Nomys_Madness

ISOLATE THE TWO

Dealing with certain groups of people is a big challenge. It pushes one to suffocation. Monitors and prefects of my artistic ventures. I need to clear the air for the team that thinks all an artist spits is factually measured.

The simplest departure on this issue is to begin with;what's is art? My reference points out clearly that it's the CREATIVE activity, usually with an AESTHETIC focus. Creative to mean imaginative, original, expressive,inventive or the ability to create. Aesthetics is all about the beauty, tasteful, or the artistic appearance. Too many definitions?

The characters in my work may not necessarily be real people actually the percent a of reality is so minute that microscopic search would strain. I have no relationship with my characters in any way save for me being their creator and manipulating them to deliver my message. They are my subjects, in the world of fiction.

Of my topics,issues, themes and anything that I tend to address, I am a mirror reflecting the society. Some topics are purely mental creatures however triggered by the social observations.

The "I " in my pieces and the real "I " are two distinct characters. They may be connected but highly independent. As earlier indicated, one is a subject and a creation of the other.

Why this rant? The moment you define me basing on my characters you're misleading yourself and killing the chance of meeting or getting to know the real me. #Nomys_Madness is a ruthless crook who doesn't mind giving all that he has to spit while the other person is so conscientious and delicately reserved. Don't rush into making such a conclusion that they are the same. One maybe hurt badly.

This Attention Grabbing Cat

I have an issue,
With this little creature,
I take it for a tissue,
Be it real or a picture,
I hate this cat.

I hate this cat,
It makes me cry,
This playful brat,
It competes everywhere!

It competes everywhere!
Takes portion of my milk,
I will kill it I swear,
Sits on my dad's laps to lick,
And that's my coveted favorite!

And that's my coveted favorite!
It groans on my sheets,
It sleeps on my bed!
It staggers on my beats,
And grasps my attention!

And grasps my attention!
Steals big mommy's caresses,
No one plays with me,
Everyone sings its color,
Tailing it, I hate it!

#Watotopoetry

Venom Spitters

In the memory of my dad,
He who fought a faulty battle,
In the name of defending his people from the neighbors,
He took oath of allegiance to the gang,
The gang funded by the mafia,
The mafia that wanted the Boss in office,
The Boss whose brilliance was ignition and incite.
Ignition and incite that washed the soil with blood,
Messed the air with smoke,
And made the scrap metal business flourish.

That venomous spit by the Boss and his cohorts,
Made us have death for a daily bread,
Injuries a luxury,
Looting a fun,
Maiming a game,
And heartless a trait,
That saw our senses made wild,
Our actions stupidly bold,
We were more than animals,
Cannibals that needed salvation.

Our sisters drowned their virginity for food,
Our mothers betrayed their vows to see kids get the basics,
Our friends and relatives,
Showed us the other side,
That animals and human are close,
Our spirits were weakened,
And yet the Boss and his cohorts,
Watched us on television,
Made promises to us,
With their venomous spit,
That saw us split,
We listened keenly,
Ready to rebuild,
And like warthogs,
We followed sheepishly,
Thanks to shallow mindedness,
We...

If we'll fall,
And fail,
To see beyond the venomous spit,
History is ready to recur,
And ours will be unending pain,
As Boss and cohorts,
Watch over our woes.

#Nomys_Madness

He Stabbed Underage Trio

He taught them in a contemporary class,
He taught them behind a blurred glass,
He taught them how to write,
He taught them their might,
He was their teacher in all beats,
In class and under the sheets,
The three thrilling girls.

They were thorough friends,
Foolishly following the same bends,
They were played and undressed,
They were eaten and pressed,
He liked them natural and raw,
He enjoyed them in a row,
The three thrilling girls.

They swallowed his spills,
And forgot to mind the pills,
Their tummies curved,
Their spitting carved,
His unplanned arousal,
His confusion appraisal,
The three thrilling girls.

His job got terminated,
Two of the seeds got eliminated,
One through an abate,
And the other through fate,
The last one survived,
To make the marriage threat arrived,
The three thrilling girls.

#Nomys_Madness

OPENED

Brother Jill,
The little baby boy from the hill,
He the laughing kid,
Is laughing not anymore,
He the chatterbox is dumb,
He the bright lad is dull,
Mulinge is to blame!

Brother Jill,
The orphaned black boy,
He who feels and feeds the aging cucu,
Is ailing and wailing on bed can't even say so so,
He who hits hard the ground,
Is currently straining in a bound,
And this is Mulinge's act!

Brother Jill,
Is asking for any pill,
From any source for he is in pain,
A pain from unusual passage,
A heart hurt from a friend,
A physical pain from a psycho,
And this is Mulinge's mental trip!

Brother Jill,
Recounted the episode,
And ours was head nod,
How he got overpowered,
How he got penetrated,
How he lost consciousness,
And the culprit is Mulinge!

Brother Jill,
The innocent little baby boy from the hill,
Has our backing in hunting the idiot,
The idiot who took his rear for a free front,
A free front for pleasure,
We're hundreds in the look,
To tighten knots of the bastard Mulinge!

##Nomys_Madness

I SHALL MARRY THE HALF BREED

I shall marry Nyokabi,
She with the roots from Ukabi,
She whose beauty beats all,
She, the daughter of the dancing mother,
If only she swears and confirms,
That symbiosis will be highly embraced,
That she'll act diligently,
Unlike the cruel cousin of hers,
Who sleeps to be fed,
Who stares on the screen,
 The whole day watching Afro-cinema,
She claims that the baby's kicking,
She's whining and the baby's only three  months,
That cousin called Nyathira.

I shall marry Nyokabi,
She with roots from Ukabi,
She whose grandpa killed ten lions,
And the shy night leopard,
Couldn't shy off his tactics,
And her mother's hut,
Had no warrior's daring spear,
Her faithfulness to her husband,
Was praised in the lands yonder,
And grasp of the cultural ways,
Better than the arrogant 'pure-breed',
If she assures to share,
Her mother's nuggets with my sins and daughters.

I shall marry Nyokabi,
She with the roots from Ukabi,
She whose brilliance equates to none,
She who has never shown interest to any other man,
She who survived college,
Without losing her roots,
And went ahead to present her papers,
With a thousand proverbs from both Gikuyu and Ukabi,
And defended the institution of marriage amicably,
At a surprising eloquence,
In a rare competence,
That the panel claimed to have never seen,
Smartest in her class!

I shall marry Nyokabi,
She from the roots of Ukabi,
Not because of her papers and knowledge,
Not because of her beliefs and culture,
Neither because of her uniqueness,
I will marry her,
For I have a hunch,
She's the best to carry,
The seeds of an ambitious son,
Who like her,
Has unexplored love sanctuary,
And together we'll raise,
A cultural conscious generation.

#Nomys_Madness

JANE WAS NOT A VIRGIN!

Jane was not a virgin,
No one could imagine,
That the boisterous girl,
Quasi religious to the core,
The arrogant new bride,
She was not a virgin!

Jane was not a virgin!
And how the village couldn't speak,
 As her wedding,
A maiden village they called it,
If only they knew,
That hers was a masquerade,
Who could have thought,
That her sweet potato bitten!

Jane was not a virgin,
She fooled the congregation,
She fooled the pastor,
She fooled her parents,
And everyone believed her treachery!
She was not a virgin!

Jane was not a virgin,
And the groom knew it,
He had hit her wall,
And tasted the juices,
He tested the rough road,
Then united in crime of the lie,
That Jane was untouched!

Jane was not a virgin,
Five months after the big wedding,
A ceremony that saw hundreds witness the vows,
Jane is pushing strenuously,
The oversized firstborn,
On that maternity bed,
Five months after the big wedding,
Jane has proved that,
She wasn't a maiden,
And courageous enough,
To do it gloves off!

Jane was not a virgin,
Jane was not a maiden,
Jane was not untouched,
Jane's foolery is stinking,
Jane is a mother five months after the big wedding!

##Nomys_Madness

ARE ALL RELATIONSHIPS ROMANTIC?

A recent reaction to certain posts of a friend and I have exposed a worrying outlook towards life. Can't people have artistic, fun and analytical relationship without speculative romance behind the scenes?

#########

I lit the fire by doing a simple descriptive poem on the friend who is not only a student leader, church leader, a great dancer, a well brought up lady with morals but also a jovial clean hearted fellow. This were traits I summarized in a few stanzas. This aroused a few critics but the crisis was manageable. She had shared the piece online for sheer appreciation of art. The audience had a rare understanding. Why only you?

She decided to scratch the back, as was our petty deal(she's an expert in literature and poetry is a minor in her pursuit), she wrote a poem on my character and coincidentally, it was a Wednesday. I shared the post to a hungry audience( and a #wcw photo of hers). The response was immense, the reaction unexpected. Likes and comments competed. No one saw the poem for what it was, they saw 'hidden meaning'.

Attacks, allegations of cowardice and hypocrisy were unending. The single worst nightmare was a dare to explain the concept to the fragile and volatile group. It was a losing battle. Crazy words such as TIBIM (I'm yet to grasp its meaning) were plenty.

It was clear a gang of close friends were having fun bullying us. They played around inciting the already excited masses. Silent followers were utilizing inbox messages to get clarity over the issue. The least bold were simply clicking the like button on the crazy comments. Gladly, the two of us were hardened by the circumstances long enough to succumb to the demands (Did I say we were given 48 hours to give our stance lest they did it themselves!).
We're waiting for the outcome!

#########

I believe it's archaic to jump into conclusion that as long as two of opposite gender are showing a good chemistry in various issues they're having an affair. I have a fleet of friends, confidants and advisors from the opposite sex. There's so much to share apart from the perversion expected.

An assumption that there must be more than meets the eye is a sorry state. We're in 21st century. If you can't manage to be in a relationship beyond romance, you need more than enlightenment and basic education. In the age of equality, quality relationships are inevitable. Change is coming, don't be overtaken.

CONFESSIONS OF A FIRST YEAR: CORNERED RELATIONSHIPS

Circuses on love matters during the first year are so fresh to forget. Meeting 'precious items' was a good good ground to experiment all sorts of being a 'player'. Some of us were more objective in the process of soul searching while others were heartless carnivalss in a land of plenty herbivores. But before long, the state of humility was either installed or acquired.

      ##########

Tom was a chatterbox. Within the first one week, he had made a network of friends. Majority of the newly acquired friends were innocent girls mainly from mission schools. Having visited the facility a year earlier;he had an added advantage, showing around, orientation. His grasp of mixing lies, truths and some sense of humour made the freshers hover around him like disciples to a rabbi. Fixing electric appliances was the most philanthropic action. If only the girls had a clue of the fox in the yard!

Tearing his catch one by one, the good Tom was changing to be Dick. He broke them in numbers. He feasted on them without discrimination. He ate them barefoot. He was a tusker,heading a bunch of cows. A king on throne.

Tom was however fixed. Two of the ladies were getting suspicious. He could spit on one in the morning, and sleep on the next one in the evening.

Kate and Jane exchanged contacts and planned for a bust. In fact, it was a brain burst to the Tusker. Kate was to prepare supper and Jane was to bump in. Tom was impatient and having forgotten Delilah and Jezebel, he was in for the surprise!

He hastily unbuttoned, unzipped and in a gluttonous speed invaded the willing prey. As he was all over the heated pinky skin, the door opened. And as his eyes tried to unravel the disbelief, Jane stood like a ghost. Dressed on her nothingness, she was juiciest in her glow.

Tom was cornered. He couldn't escape. His heat turned him to a statue. He was in a jury. His two best performers were more than available but performing a different duty.

That night Tom lost both the ladies. He slept between them but his firmness was massaged by satire, heroism and that humbled him.

#########

Dennis was a different case. He was a soft spoken mummy's boy; who girls had mistaken for an innocent boy. He was a forgetful brat who couldn't recall friends. His stupidity led him to forward same messages to roommates. They played him to fall into the trap of bumping into their room. To his dismay,the girls disclosed to his friend who spared the best for the audience of his group of confidants!

     ##########

The last case was a pure embarrassment. Peter was hitting on Grace who was interested in Dennis. Grace was least similar to her name, she showed Dennis all the lines that Peter was dropping! Dennis spared the right moment to payback. He could tease Peter until one day he spilled the beans.

"Your lines are so great, but the girl loves me!

   ##########

Grace was an angel as Dave, another one of the friends was also hitting on her. Hell broke loose when Dave learnt that Dennis was reaping fruits!! And being an emotional fellow, Dave led to a stampede in the library!
Were it not for good friends, the situation would have been murkier.

   ##########

First year was gone, so was the stupidity. By the end of the fourth year, maturity had salvaged the petty relationships.

#Nomys_Madness

VERA THE ENIGMA

Vera,
A linguistics expert,
Not just in speaking,
But a pro in writing,
A teacher by profession.

Vera,
A leading lead,
Headlines and heads hit,
Her heat heightens hearts,
 A leader by default,
A soul not easy to fault.

Vera,
An African lady,
From her dress,
Mannerisms and address,
An epitome in human welfare,
A champion in healthcare,
The campus fitness director.

With a flawless light skin,
A bumpy curvaceous body,
She dances for hours,
In an ease worth stare,
A joyous soul,
Laughter finds a soft spot,
And oh,
Lucky is he who woos her,
His children will be well taken care of.

Vera,
A veracious football enthusiast,
A voracious literary consumer,
An all round lass,
Likened to none,
Vera the enigma!!!

#Nomys_Madness.

Salome The Cook

Salome the brown bony blonde,
Salome the generosity genius,
I beg to begin my raw rant.

Your sea was sweaty,
You see, your sea was sweet,
Sweet like the wings of a Luhya cock.
Salome you knew how to cook,
Your food tastier than the stolen oranges from Wa Njege's land,
Your turn, mixing and the regular rise and fall,
Made your food irresistible.

Salome,
Your food was the best,
Njoroge could kill for it,
Karagu offered his son's fees for a bite,
Salome you knew how to cook,
That your glory,
And gory,
Spread just like your table spread as you served.

Salome you served sleeveless,
Salome you served very well,
Until you were served too!!

Salome the brown bony blonde,
I surrender to be surrounded suspiciously,
I refuse in the name of River Tana,
That river that the your river rivals,
I refuse to be burdened,
With the seeds you can't track nor trace the breed.

Salome,
Salvation for you is not in my yard!

#Nomys_Madness

PETER THE REBEL SHINES

"Your arrogance sucks! A poor thoughtless village boy who let's luck slip. Follow your stupidity and keep on wallowing in your sorry world of fantasy and poverty!" She cursed rushing into her limousine. Which fool turns down an offer to study medicine abroad for FREE? She had heard rumours of the nephew's unshakable stances. She thought she could tether him. She thought she could enjoy a control freak status. She thought she could tame him. She lost. Pauline was her name, a bourgeoisie from the capital;a distant relative.


Becoming real had always led the boy to be referred to as rude, arrogant, hostile and even stupid. He always led a life too complex to comprehend.Even his supportive mother could hardly grasp a clue most a times.Luckily, the pure-hearted could not abandon the son.No matter how eccentric he appeared. She had always trusted him. Her soul was his,his was hers. Nothing they did without the other in mind.' My life is yours,all my efforts are to see you get better than you are. 'It was the unspoken rule. They harboured it in their spirits. How many times had she dared death for his survival? Which  insults had he not received for being a FATHERLESS BASTARD?

                    *****
Peter knew his version of life. His decisions depended on his book consumption. Apart from the syllabus, his knowledge search delved in: life skills, psychology,sociology and philosophy. This fields were hard nuts but not for a nagging book-worm. The deeper he dug,the more alienated from the existing accepted and valued ways of life in the setting he became.His readership of fictional pieces made him a brat, he couldn't afford to discuss anything without likening events and people with those in books. It did not augur well with the society. He was literally ABANDONED. Literally abandoned due to his literary abandon.

             ******
He explained it all to his mother. His argument hit her soft spot so simply. She saw clearly and easily than he could imagine. Not that he underestimated her brain, no. He knew so well the main problem;money.

" Mum, the bait was so conspicuous. I have no doubt it was a trap. It matters not how much better I would become, my thoughts would be enslaved. 'Were it not for me...' tag and intimidation. You know your relative better than the rest. She's an investor,we may not see it now but I have no doubt over it. Her end prevails her decisions,profits."

Peter knew his mother was the best lawyer and trustee. A confidant to bank on. An advisor so brutally honest. He explained his phase two to both of them in presence of the rest.

"I have high respect and feels greatly honoured to have your audience,concern,attention and time. I appreciate your support. Unfortunately, I am a writer, a journalist, a communicator in mind. I adamantly intend to realise the dream. We call it passion,desire and pursuit for happiness. I would be lying that medicine is a bad course; no course is. I have no intention to harbour hypocrisy. My respect for the society will deal with me cruelly if I take medicine for a course. I am not the least one to dress wounds,inject nor fantasize anything to do with the medical field. I hope you understand."

It was a tough gamble. How does one sacrifice an opportunity for a blurred passion. Save for the mother;the rest could not deny that the boy was not only a loser but also a psycho, who needed a psychiatrist. No wind of opinions could shake his pillar. His mother and him hadd to face the consequences. 'Let them massage their ego by paying fees. He can't make it without us. Poor pair! How did he even manage to get such a good grade with this controversy?'

His peers envied him. But they lacked the guts. A losing bunch of conforming brats. Cowards. He thought of them.

######

Campus was not a walk in the park. He had a bumpy ride. He had to win. He made his mother proud.

            ******
His appearance on the television as a broadcast reporter wasn't least believable. How? It was short-lived confirming their doomed desire. Unknown to them his success story was just beginning.

Passion led him to his destiny,desire and destination.The writer with a weekly humour column and yes, three best-sellers!

MOMBASA BY FOOT:A MESSY STOP OVER CALLED MTITO

An aerial view of Mombasa city from a building.A group of communication students had a great experience on their way to the historic centre.

The Longest Journey Ever was a competition topic testing on essay writing prowess. That was twenty years ago when I was a form one. It was an exciting venture to compete with finalists as a mono. I reminisce how we vowed to outshine the bullies. At least we had a fair forum that could test on mental muscles.

An experience recently, triggered the memories and yes if only my young mind could have conceived or foreshadowed this!

#########

We had battled with the "system" for weeks over our educational trip. It took the muscles of divisive utterances and mistrust to see the 'favour granted'. Those who embraced moderation were handled with suspicion and even termed 'traitors'. Radicals,extremists and their cliques on the other hand felt that patriots and 'real fighters' were well earned names. Luckily, after the goal realisation, animosity faded away. The excitement of touring the coast reignited the team of young academicians.

#########

Bus trip could never be better! Making fun of each other,laughing , spending. Yes spending. Cash was flooding. Allowances from the school, betting,parents, partners all the sources had been exploited! The trip was 'academic' and no one could dare fail supporting it.

After a long day crisscrossing counties. A stopover was inevitably handy.Mtito Andei was the spot for the first night. It's strategic location and economic significance between the two cities required attention. With clear instructions, it was the first site/beat. No rest, night study was mandatory. Early next morning we had to head to the destination.

This was the life-changing memory point. No one could have conceived any nitty gritty until;

A superb offer on food was so nice to shy off from.We utilized a certain affordable meat joint and recommended it to the rest.(We were in groups). Their meat was not only cheap (verily verily affordable) but also plenty. A pocket friendly place is an all-time bait to comrades! So we indulged with relish...

Violating the rules, we booked rooms.( We were supposed to work overnight,nocturnal.) And like as fate would have it,veeery cheap,extremely affordable. Who boards a room for three bucks a night?

########

All was well until the urge to sleep became nagging. Hasty shower and burying oneself into the blankets was a maddening desire.

And the kings of the jungle couldn't wait longer! Piercings,itchiness,the beds were infested!!! The bugs were in rows and the damn insects were starving miniatures!!!!

Withdraw from the facility cursing and spitting was the best experience! The campus bus proudly hosted us securely till dawn.

Waking up so early, worn out, tired and sleepy,the problems were just beginning. A good number had 'pinching stomachs.We resolved to have breakfast hoping all would be well. A miscalculated thought,a lossy wish. We were just making the story juicer!

Our kickoff was at dawn, as we were aware of the traffic jams. We had to make it to the coast city. After an hour ride, the stomachs issues escalated. Running.

We utilized the best skills of negotiation to make the drivers stop. The number of DRIVERS had risen! And the bus drivers had to stop for the rest of us to 'drive'!

At the beginning, the first stop appeared normal,short calls can't make anyone raise brows. The frequency changed. Common culprits. Whispers. And analysts noted a similarity! Only guests to the messy butchery were moving.

Traffic jam on our side,the speed was checked a great relieve. Running up and down the bus. Longer distances were covered by foot than bus!

Out of the bus, the nearest bushes were experiencing 'over-fertilisation'. The bushes were blushing over witnessing needy scholars surrounding them in all directions. With a running stomach privacy was the last thing to care about. No one gave a damn who the neighbors were nor their gender!

A great comrade had a brand new roll of Toilex and gladly he was positioned on the front seat. He saved the day.

     #### ###
By the time we were getting into the coastal city, the enthusiasm was hampered and limped by the experience.

TEACHING: THE WORST BEST PROFESSION

Kamau* could not fathom his parents' craziness. How could they not even listen to hi s side of story? Where the hell was the overrated fairness and right of reply principles and champions?

The skinny madam literally had a bad blood. Probably she was a real ogre she loved giving stories about; blood thirst and always contemptuous. Another possibility; she must have had an abusive childhood, a cannibal for a husband or had a battalion of addicts for children. How could one be so cruel? Worse still, the parents gave her the back-up she needed to make pupils' life an oven.

Madam Koru* had a long porcupine face,protruding eyes which had bushy brows. Her silken pony tailed hair was the most astonishing trait in her appearance, like spotting a virgin serving in a brothel as a guide. Her height and depth maybe were the worst combination; super short and bony. This made her find a battle easily with any learner, taller or physically endowed better than her, in any way. Icing the animosity cake would be a slight deviation from the set code of conduct. She had a way of detecting even an intention to harbour such a thought!

 Madam was a self-proclaimed psychologist;mind reader.Her expertise saw her in all disciplinary meetings. Her opinions were simply the final decisions. The deputy head teacher also harboured his resentments for the overlap of duties. However,he gave her the time to shine. As long as his payslips had better if not more digits than hers, and the system knew who was the diploma holder in ECD! (A rare feat in those days). He was the best in papers and even the boss handled him with caution lest he became the AEO and jeopardize his luxurious position.

Kamau had to be made an example,a warning to similar minded brats. He stood on the desk to lead a circus;making fun of the "hammer". The teacher who had aloe vera juice for blood. Cowards and traitors were more than one could imagine,just like the Secret Service then. A slight detection of resistance or critique to the system was uprooted like a venom lest the entire body got poisoned.

Kamau and his team were busted off guard. The drums couldn't be louder! Their butts had a common illness. This was just an intolerable behaviour. The beating was just introductory. Head teacher been around ,meant dismissal to get parents who came in duos. No one could support the pupils. The teachers were always right and even the dullest had that inscribed in their skulls.

   ###*###*###*###

If only madam Koru could live in modern day schools! Just a mere wish. The breed of leaders they highly trained have no doubt the best skills for parenting. Touching a child not only attracts human rights gurus attention, the government,the media and a mad fury from parents. Probably so bitter to imagine their children getting the same treatment they had.

The social status that the teachers were accorded has been lost. Does it mean that the predecessors blurred the image for the modern day trainers and tutors?

########

Elsewhere, there's a great conciliatory move. The students and teachers are forming coalitions to restore the parents' confidence. Have you not heard about the teachers who are passionate planting seeds on the maiden lands? And yes, the girls can't afford to sleep around with their age mates as long as the teachers are available!

Funny enough, is it not reported that the teachers are "approached" and threatened to dare not reject otherwise the activists and jail are in the wait for ROGUE teachers!

IT TAKES TIME TO ENJOY FRUITS

A variety of juicy fruits. We have to be patient enough until the investments we have get to fruition. Patience pays.

It takes time,

For a fruit to be juicy,

It takes pieces of dime,

To get that conspicuous fruit.

Investment is a must,

To grasp and grab the best.

No change happens instantly,

Unless it's a lightning,

You may be on the right track,

But it takes pieces of patients,

Nuggets of wisdom,

Trust in the Almighty for the fruition.

A farmer works on the seed-bed,

Prepares the seeds,

Enriches the soil,

Weeds and waters,

Not to mention chemicals,

Fruits are products,

Of heavy investment,

Of time and resources.

You'll bear fruits,

If patient enough,

And value efforts,

Best tastes,

Are results of great tests,

So crawl confidently,

And your deepest desire,

Will be fulfilled.

ALL WILL BE WELL.

A view of the Indian Ocean from Fort Jesus via a grilled window. It matters not how far the horizon is, you can imagine and make it there determinedly. 

When the moments suck,
And toughness stiffen,
It matters not,
The angle,
The situation you're in,
Just be firm,
Be optimistic,
All will be well,
Be sure,
All will be well.

Let the mind fly,
Imagine,
Explore,
Plan,
Act,
All will be well.

See the horizon,
Zoom the distance,
Strategize,
Approach it,
Be confident,
All will be well.

Go,
Give it a trial,
Do it,
Dare,
It hurts no one,
Be positive,
All will be well.

DON'T BE FOOLED:CORD'S MOVE IS CALCULATED.

The latest sideshow activities by the CORD are a mask to test the electorates reaction.

The trio is very aware of what's the way forward as far as their presidential candidate is concern. It is a super calculated move.

It all began with the Weta's presidential bid launch, Oparanya's utterance and the the miss to attend the launch by the Opposition Chief Raila Ondinga. This has guaranteed reaction and unending coverage.

In a press statement that the apologies have been made,the world was fooled to believe that there was indeed a great conciliatory event had occurred.

Less than a week later the statement that there was an MoU that was to grant Wiper Party leader Kalonzo Musyoka the CORD flag,was spoken about by the vocal Chris Wamalwa.
The Wiper Party leader has claimed that despite shortage in funding, he will appear on the ballot.

If history is anything to go by, no one requires special training to know who the flag-bearer will be.

Most probably, the three principals of the opposition coalition are aware of their move and are out to provide headlines and set the agenda for the nation. Otherwise, a breaking coalition is a tomfoolery that only a dimwit will fall for,at least at this juncture.

BENSOUDA AND AG:WHO IS LYING?

The International Criminal Court's decision to discharge the Kenya's Deputy President William Ruto and journalist Joshua Sang has awakened a battle between the Attorney General Githu Muigai and the ICC Prosecutor Fatou Bensouda.

The prosecutor's insistence on non cooperation by the republic of Kenya is the principal problem with the request to foward the three alleged interference culprits icing the cake of tension.

According to the Attorney General, the allegation by the Prosecutor is malicious which an unfair intention for a sovereign state.

The A.G further added that the state had provided all the required documents including the minutes of Security meetings during the period among other CID documents.

While addressing the issue on the forwarding of the alleged witness interference culprits ;Walter Barasa, Paul Gicheru and Philip Kipkoech Bett, the A.G clearly stated that the prosecutor was aware the was a case on the same. This requires the prosecutor to be patient enough until the Kenyan case is concluded.

The exchange between the two began along time with the prosecutor and the AG taking divergent opinions. It was during the President's case that the prosecutor dropped that claims of non cooperation by the Kenyan authorities dawned.

The battle leaves the country with the questions;who is lying? Is Bensouda contemptuous over the Kenyan state? Is the attorney's duty and statements questionable? This leaves a confused conclusion for the state.