Happiness

What brings you happiness? I had this discussion a few weeks ago by correspondence with some bright chick I have never met in person.

When I was yet a boy (that means before I got married by the way hehehe…), I used to pursue happiness with a passion. But finally I came to realise that happiness is only a moment’s experience. It is like an orgasm, it only lasts so long, and all that is left is the pleasant memory of it. It is more like a moment of joy. No one is happy all the time. But I think some people have more frequent moments of happiness than others, and I think that is what makes us think of some people as generally happy, and others as generally sad.

One of my happiest days was when I pushed the ATM card to a teller to withdraw money and the balance figure plastered over the screen was a seven figure: for the first time! BAM!

A voice inside cooed, “Boy, you are now a millionaire for the first time!”

DANG! The FIRST time!

I had been waiting for a cheque impatiently for two weeks and just stopped calling. Then on that modest, plain, humble Friday afternoon, I went to make an ATM withdrawal… Dang! From 800K to 1063K!!!

I cancelled the transaction and walked out of the ATM and sat on a low wall outside the post office (in Thika), near the ka-small roundabout! There were people seated all around me; and others walking up, down, and about in the usual frenzied hustle and bustle of a regular Kenyan city. I felt as if I was out of this world.

I had been waiting for this moment to come in the following month…but it came sooner than I expected. Here I was, seated with all these people, but felt as if I was just floating. I don’t know what it was about that particular ATM that made the effect so smashing, lakini I was just happy tu sana. Sana.

So after sitting there for some time absorbing the afterglow, I decided to go back to the car. Then when I got to the car, I remembered why I had gone to make the withdrawal in the first place, so I walked back to the ATM and completed the transaction.

That evening, I drank so much that I passed out on top of my girlfriend, bila ku-cum. She seriously complained about it the following morning hehehe….

So; moments of happiness catch you unawares. You think you are having your regular evening/afternoon/morning just like any other, and then something just hits you so hard smack into your face…and changes your day into a moment of joy/happiness.

Impossible Eve

Women have more power than men. If women were half as united as men are…kungekuwa kubaya jo! (For the men!) Aich.

But this I have seen; when a woman is in trouble, more often than not; other women laugh at her. Men will usually make a lousy attempt at helping…but men are hopeless at helping. If a man gets a chance to help a woman in trouble, he usually does it the best he can. (Strong chorus of dissent from the ladies’ camp)

But women would rather be busy socializing only with women who do not need their help.

Why?

Women tend to be each other’s worst enemies. Suijui kwa nini…

Halafu; envy. Aich.

When a woman passes a more gorgeous or better dressed woman in the street, they are filled with envy. If you comment about the nice car on the next late and the girl driving it, your lady passenger is likely to say; “That car is cheap”; or “She must be sleeping with a rich man to have all that”. Aich. Kweli.

Men tend to just know where they belong in the fold and accept it. They do it every day. If I get to the gate, the security guy salutes me as I drive through, I salute back. He calls me sir, bila squirms. Hata kidogo. When I face my boss, I carefully tuck my balls away and sir him all the way through.

Lakini chicks…most of them just cannot bring themselves to really accept it deep inside her that her friend is better off than her. She always has attitude whenever she faces her lady boss. In fact I have been told countless times by very smart women that they would rather have a male boss than a lady boss!

Aich.

One minute a man is on his fellow brother’s neck because they just found out you were cheating on both of them. Then next minute they are laughing about it over a couple of beers. I wish it would be like this for women too. Kwani, how come it is so easy for men to accept that a woman is just a player…and move on. Why does a woman look at the other woman as the chief culprit… they should be wise enough to recognize that the man is a jerk!

Cut your sister some slack. In fact, if you find that you are fucking some boy that half the town is also fucking, that is a plus for you! It means you are fucking someone worth fucking! Those who have faithful men; it might just be that no one else wants him anyway. Ama?

Halafu, how come women can forgive a man who treats her like shit; yet one mistake from a woman is her death sentence? Aich. Hehehe….Many girls read very innocent actions from other women as underscoring a hidden lethal intention.

Lakini the way I have seen it, most women who have been skinned by their sisters are generally nice, for the most part. Women need to make it their ambition to like their fellow women, and to be good to them. They should defend them when they are not there to defend themselves.  Just because your best friend messed you up doesn’t mean she is bad. She is just as human as you are. She is susceptible to temptation. Get over it; enough already with the suspicions, judgments and hatred. Aich.

Make it your resolve to be kind to every woman around you, and seek to see and bring out the best in her. Find a way to appreciate all women around you, despite their social standings. If a woman is outside the club looking for someone to pay admission for her; ask her if she will mind if you paid for her; roho safi. Being a woman it is likely she will read a lethal intention in your gesture and refuse, but you offered anyway. She may think that you are just doing it out of spite, to rub it in into her that she is a broke helpless piece of ass. Lakini at least you tried.

Seek to leave every woman’s life that you come into contact with better. That is what sisterhood is all about.

When you’re sitting around with a group of guys and they start trashing a woman who has just walked in you don’t laugh and trach along. Defend her. That’s the kind of legacy girls should spread around. When your friend’s boyfriend hits on you behind her back you cut him out. Or at least try.

(Aich. What am I saying? I am going to get a whooping for this, lakini ni sawa tu hehehehe…)

Women should be there for each other; support each other rather than tearing one another down.

You know how great women feel when they are told how good they look, or smell, so complement the women around you whenever you can. Even if the shoe she is wearing costs your whole year’s rent, it doesn’t hurt to tell her how amazing she looks in them. Ama? Girls?

If a woman in the office seems to have low self image, then never tire of reminding her how great she is.

Only when you live like this can you become a complete woman. You will trully be proud of yourself  only when you are proud of your sister!

Ok. Enough said.

Why Pickups Make More Sense Than Girlfriends Final

But there are reasons why pickups are way better than girlfriends.

A girlfriend is someone who evokes in you some sense of responsibility…like you need to work on being a boyfriend. But with a pickup, the driving force is just about getting a girlfriend or less. In my experience, working on getting a girlfriend uses just about ten times less energy than working on being a boyfriend.

What I am saying above is a bit compressed (I dont want to dig into such stuff for fear of opening a can of worms). But; if you meet a woman and tell her superficial stuff about yourself, just enough to make yourself somewhat of an acquaintance to her…you can still maintain the “I am not looking for a relationship” stance with her. After all, you are just an acquaintance. At such a level, you can pretty much just leave and forget; which is what happens the morning after.

When you are already married, getting yourself into a girlfriend/boyfriend set up is like getting married all over again…inviting upon yourself double the trouble of two marriages hehehe…

Leaving your wife in the house to spend time with a girlfriend is like walking through a door that leads outside, to the open fields; and then instead of taking a walk in the open and savour the fresh air and beautiful scenery, you walk right through another door into a hut and lock yourself in there. Hehehehe…

The maximum number of women that a man can bear a deep relationship with is probably one… two at most. More than two; then it just becomes unbearably unbearable, a fucking drag. Most men just want sex. Most girlfriends want “love and affection”…they want to be made to “feel special” and such kind of crap. It is so much easier for a man to turn himself into sex-worthy than “loving and affectionate.” Period.

Pickups usually have just about two plots on your ass: Either just to get laid and to get some little money while at it, or they want to get laid in the faint hope of scoring a longer lasting relationship with you. Girlfriends on the other hand have a million plots on your ass. In fact they hatch up new plots each day…

Girlfriends are almost like spouses. A friend is someone you relate to on the basis that you have something in common…and when you no longer share that, it is time to move on. A friend is someone who does not have to bullshit…he/she is your friend because he likes it. If he/she doesn’t, then they just leave. Therefore, the best thing about a friendship is that it is open to revision without notice. That is why friends are better at sorting out a person than a spouse.

A spouse is someone you are stuck with, through thin and thick. If you meet your spouse when he/she is sober, and then they later turn into an alcoholic…there is not as much degree of freedom to leave as there is when it is just a friend.

The only thing that makes a girlfriend slightly better than a spouse is that, when you leave her, the only guilt suffered is the guilty conscience. Leaving a spouse attracts both a guilty conscience and legal guilt hehehe… This is of course if there are no children involved. If you have children with your girlfriend, you is a stupid mother fucker. You is one stupid mother fucker.

So; pickup any time.

Why Pickups Make More Sense Than Girlfriends

When I go to clubs, I pick women up a lot. Why bother with these pickup women? This is a question that readers of this blog (and especially women readers) have asked me. I can even remember a college girl I picked up (more than once) asking me; “Why do you bother with me, why don’t you get a woman who is working like you?”

 

There is a huge difference between a girlfriend and a pickup. Pickups are usually either pussy vendors or some other similar type of low lifes (ouch! pole.). Once the sex is over, there is nothing more left to do but part ways. For good. Pickups make sense only when there is sex involved.

 

Pickups that turn out to be decent women just out for fun who do not mind hooking up with some piece of clean dick just for sex are rare indeed. And they tend to end up becoming girlfriends.

 

Girlfriends on the other hand are people who can engage you for whole day (actually you get to waste the whole day doing nothing that is of no direct benefit to you) and it still makes sense to you and makes the day meaningful. You will spend a whole day hauling household stuff from one city to another for your girlfriend who is changing jobs; fixing curtains (live!); shopping; sitting on cushions on the floor (no room for the L seater on the truck); sleeping on a mattress on the floor (turns out one side bar of the bed was left behind and needs to be picked later); pushing around a fridge, cooker and washing machine over and over again in the kitchen until everything “looks just right”…etc etc

 

And at the end of the day you actually feel like you spent your day well hehehe…

 

Pickups tend to be people who cannot make sense to your friends, and often cannot even make sense to you unless you are drunk. They are usually in a social class a few notches below yours…not that a good girlfriend is necessarily in the same economic class with you; but that would be highly desirable.

 

To be continued.

Fleshy young thing…

It’s been raining all the way but on arrival to the small city, the weather clears up. The bright street lights fill me with nostalgia as I slip into the wide dual carriage motor way that greets you as you approach the outskirts of the city. I book a hotel room, grab a shower and take some supper in the restaurant. I don’t like eating in this hotel; the food is usually bland and expensive. But tonight, it is tolerable; ok, actually.

I get to the parking lot, walk around the car to see if some other bugger has hit my car this time around. No scratch.

I get to the club and as I get out of the car, I notice a young (quite young) busty girl playing with her phone outside the club. She momentarily looks up at me as I get out of the car and goes back to face booking or whatever it is she is doing…I “hi” her and she mumbles something back without looking up. I proceed into the club and take a stool at the counter. The jovial barman recognizes and give me a rather enthusiastic reception…hehehe…I feel a bit embarrassed. I am such a kalewa mpaka when I arrive into a bar, there is a standing ovation hehehe….

The young girl walks in and passes by the counter (still staring at her phone), and I put an arm out to block her. Turns out she is actually watching where she is going because she stops and stares at me, almost cold stare…. I smile and withdraw my hand and ask if I can buy her a drink.

She nods, no word. OK. I pull a stool. She climbs up and orders for Smirnoff Ice. The barman fetches it with a cocky smirk on his face. She downs it in three minutes! I ask her if she wants another.

She nods.

And another, and another and another and another and another….six Smirnoffs in less than two hours. We try to make some conversation but half the time I cannot tell what she is saying. She starts to look rather trashed and I suggest that we leave.

As we walk out, she tags on my arm and giggles all the way to the car. We get to the hotel, she takes a pee, and she climbs into bed fully clothed.

A few minutes later, her clothes are lying in a heap on the carpeted floor, her butt on a pillow, and a shaft up her pussy. I am kneeling between her legs…rocking softly. She takes her hand down to her crotch and starts massaging her clit rather fast.

After some time she starts going, “Oh baby, O baby, Oooo baibe…” as she raises her feet up into the air and then down onto the bed again, then up again etc etc…. I touch her titties and start playing with them. She opens her mouth so wide, I can almost see her lungs!

Then she starts rocking rather fast and says, “fuck me!” then almost immediately… “Am cominaaaaahhhhh…”

“Comin” and “aaaahhh”: one word. Hehehehe….

Freezes. No convulsions, nothing. Frozen. I freeze too and just look at her. She goes limb and I lean over to kiss her. She opens her eyes and they are all blood shot; red; like someone who has just been strangulated to death.

But I have to cum.

I start rocking again and she tries to push me out but I pin her down somehow and come on top. After a few seconds, she stops fighting and starts moaning softly. Just as I am about to cum, I am rocking so hard that she says something like, “You are hurting me!” Deaf ears hehehe…

I cum.

As soon as I pull out, she curls into a ball and sleeps facing away from me. I try to hold her but she pushes me away. I turn and sleep facing the opposite direction.

At 330am, I wake up to hear her retching in the bath room. She comes in a few minutes later. I tell her to take some water but she refuses. I sit her on my lap and force some water on her. She drinks the whole bottle somehow, then heads back into the bathroom to throw up.

She comes back looking even more exhausted. I give her some dispersible antacid granules and after taking two, she goes for the whole medicine bottle. I stop her on the sixth tablet! “Hey! Those are not sweets!” Hehehehe…

She also has a headache and I give her a couple of Tylenol tabs. She picks the Tylenol bottle and scrutinizes it as if it was a rare work of art.

In the morning she wakes up feeling fine. She even allows me a quickie but then refuses to allow me to take her home. She opts to take a matatu instead. She asks for my number, I find myself just giving it to her.

I hope she is not a high school student. Hehehe…

Perpendicular fire

Some of you are Mangu old boys. Forgive me for saying this; but Mang’u High School was a fucking lunatic asylum (at least when I passed through there sometime during the previous millennium, I hope things have changed lakini hehehe…) For those who are still there: Do you boys still grow bhang in vases in the dorm (KEN,KIM, O’BOYS hehehe…) in the guise that they are flowers? Aich.

In the first week of being in that school, my friend’s elbow was smashed into smithereens by a form 4 hooligan with a broom stick…in the name of domesticating the undomesticated gibbon also known commonly as mono in that hell hole (if you are reading this, things haven’t changed much for you either hehehe…I hope your elbow still works fine what with all those wires and pins hehehe…)

It is also in the same school where I was knifed in the back by some stupid maggot idiot…the knife must have hit a bone or something. Nothing happened to my insides…but I bled kiasi hehehe…

The soccer coach was famed to have once found boys fighting and instead of separating the combatants joined the audience to supervise the fight.

It was this guy who always used to warn people about perpendicular fire, if you crossed his line. Perpendicular fire is a concept hard to conceptualise…but I think if you click on the diagram to your right it might help you see how I visualise it.

He was also the discipline master. Go figure.

Pole Manguarians for peeing on your gravy lakini all da same; “Mungu Ibariki… Wabariki Pia Viongozi… Katika Michezo Masomo… Tuwe …” Mjishinde Pia, (Ama vipi?) Aich.

Of late I have been unable to resist the temptation to comment on stupid Islamist crap that maafakas paste all over the net…I believe all of you have received one or other of the message tapes from the stupid Alshabaab maafakas. I will upload that shit when I get time for those of you who have not heard it yet. (If you have one, please paste a link to it any if you have it, I will allow it in the comments section)

I don’t know why to be a true Muslim, some of these maafakas feel that you have to live under Sharia, and try to impose your stupid Sharia convictions on all around you.

“Mombasa si Kenya” is a slogan which has been gathering some momentum now, and the resultant consequence of that agitation is the decapitation of an innocent woman by a grenade hurled into Christian public gathering Tononoka? And the death of a few in Mtwapa, courtesy of grenades hurled at a public place. Nairobi has experienced similar incidences, from people who are invariably Muslims and who believe that there is a worldwide conspiracy to exterminate Islam and Muslims.

I was caught up in an argument with some of these hotheads on the net, people who think that Muslims are justified to bomb Nairobi because we have the US embassy in Kenya. Ati the US of A is a “thief” and so we are like people hosting a thief in our house, and so the mob is justified to come in and flush out the thief. We have the Iranian embassy in Nairobi, but that maafaka feels that it is (or was hehehe…) Osama Bin Laden’s prerogative to subscribe for us what countries we should maintain Diplomatic ties with. Hehehehe…

These guys know how to disguise their intentions well. But the tools they use to push their agenda forward are not very easy to conceal: military action and political pressure. They will try to manoeuvre and agitate to create some political platform for secession; first in The Coast, then in North Eastern, then try to push to engulf the rest of Kenya into Islam.

I live under a constitution moulded after the British constitution, which the former generation of leaders agreeably espoused at independence. A Christian or not, I am happy with it, because it has a secular outlook and is tolerable. I will however be hard pressed to allow someone to cram a constitution down my throat which tells me (on a constitutional platform!!!), that freedoms like for instance having a beer with friends is Haram.

But wherever extremism has arisen, whether in the Muslim world, or any other world: It is always met with perpendicular fire. It is time extremist Muslims learned this.

————————————————————————————

PS:

This is one of the subversive tapes. I have seriously truncated it to shorten it for upload.

Cheupe times

I want to apologise for not posting this week.

I do not have a good excuse for it.

I do not consider myself a very busy person. I know some maafakas out there who are hustling like a piston when the rev counter is on the red at 7000⁺rpm hehehe…

But sometimes my week is just odd.

Sometimes I want to put up a post or update something on this blog but I just don’t get to doing it…it leaves me feeling guilty.

Why does it take long for me to post something some times? Well, I cannot say that I do not have time for doing it, not really. It is just that the things I am doing kind of crowd out my thoughts. Or just that I do not have the fortitude inside to put those things aside and put up a post. The last one week has been one of those times.

I have avoided putting stuff that is too personal out here, but for this post, I want to change the tradition kidogo. I will put out a raw version of my last one week. I think it might give one a glimpse into what Cheupe’s week might look like. The times are approximate…I am working from memory; mostly.

Monday:

0800-1830 (8am to 630pm): Seeing clients.

1730-0800 (530pm to 8am) (Yaani Tuesday 8am hehehe…): On night call; the night is quite busy. I don’t get to sleep until 630am or something like that.

Tuesday: (Public holiday):

0630-1000 (630am to 1000am): Sleeping kidogo hehehe…

1000-1500 (1000am to 300pm): Indoors, playing with the kids and finishing up a document on some eternal project. (This project thing is killing me!) Meanwhile, the mzungu lady deputy secretary of the project taskforce calls me to tell me she is going to the US the following day?! What the fuck?!

Ati I must have missed her mail because she send mail to all taskforce fellas the week before. I was secretly planning to dump a Thursday-Friday taskforce workshop on her…so much for that! Now I have to do it myself!

1530-1730 (330pm to 530pm): Out of town to follow up on some lawyer issue. Promised that the cheque should be in my hands this May hehehe…I hope those are not idle words.

1730-1800 (530pm to 600pm): Hunting for the mysterious woman. I get to college and ask the first group of student women I run into at the parking lot. She actually told me her real name?! Nice. They direct me to the Library.

Hunt successful. (I consider myself very lucky considering I do not have a phone number hehehe…) I find her in the library typing away on some archaic laptop…she seems rather surprised to see me but I am still able to detect some delight in her face.

She sees me out and I get her number. I give her some little cash and she seems glad to have it. We chat some and shake hands respectfully and we part ways. She runs back upstairs to finish whatever she was doing…Somehow she does not feel so mysterious any more hehehe…lakini I am not drunk.

1800-2030 (600pm to 830pm): Back in town. It crosses my mind, (Again!!! for the 100000^th time!!!) that I should probably employ a driver hehehe….I have been starting to see how much time driving wastes! Aich.

2030-2300 (830pm to 1100pm): Working on the project. Retire to bed.

Wednesday:

0700-1200 (700am to 12noon): Free day. No patients to see for another whole day! Playing with the kids, some gym time, marking a thesis. Some foreman fella calls to give me an unpleasant update on some finishing hiccups on some building. I am not going there today!!! I am not fucking going there again! I basically remind the maafaka what we agreed the last time we met and hang the fuck up.

Then my head goes into overdrive::::

“How many times do you have keep on putting fucking tiles on a fucking staircase before you do it right just this once???!!! Ok! That staircase is cursed… they do it, and either they broke something, or the rail is in the way, or the lines are not square…and then when it is done right…someone says one is sticking up above the others, so we decide it must come out. And then they start to remove it and break four more in the process…and then he calls me for more tiles at a time I want to rest kidogo. Go fuck yourself you maggot! Buy them yourself and fix them. Aich”

OK. I call the maafaka back. Then MPESA. Hehehe…

“Go buy the fucking tiles. I am not coming there till kesho evening”.

1200-1700 (12noon to 500pm): Out of town again to meet some don. The meeting is great. I am happy to pick some scrap to help me complete something on the project. (When you lie to people that you have what it takes to make a proper budget for a project on something you have never done before…hehehehe…)

1700-1900 (500pm to 700pm): Chatting with an old friend at a pub. He has a young friend who is going back to town and I am glad to let him drive. We drink some, eat some meat (At the time, I realise that it was also lunch for me!)

1900-2230 (700pm to 1030pm): We leave for town, I sit at the back and try to sleep without much success. It rains like crazy, it is not until 1030ish that we get back. I take fruit salad and sleep, only to be woken up at midnight.

Thursday:

000-0530 (12midnight to 530am): Trouble in hospital. They cannot reach the on-call, and someone is dying. I do not sleep until 530am

0700-0800 (7am to 8am): Awake again and driving out to join the taskforce people. The administrative assistance has done such a good job at setting up, I am delighted. I catch the guys at the dining hall. The wazungu fellas checked in the night before. My Kenyan colleague is also around. The other Kenyan colleague says she left at 4am but her (really big) car got stuck somewhere on the way to the main road! Hehehehe…how do you get an off-road 4×4 stuck in the mud on a road?! Hehehe… I also did not know until now that she lived in a village! I warn the guys that I might have to leave in the afternoon and come back for the night session. The guys wait for me to take my breakfast as we catch up. Great breakfast lakini.

0800-1300 (8am to 100pm): Great time going through the project document via beamer. The lady gets in at around 1030am. We carry on till 1pm and head for lunch. I excuse myself to attend to some clients (my colleague is leaving town and my clients need someone to take care of things…) So, I have to hand over the reins to one of the wazunguz. He does not mind. I pass by the reception and tell her to book a room for me as I would likely be spending the night in the premises and not at home.

1300-1430 (100pm to 230pm): Taking lunch and then drive back to office.

1430-1730 (230pm to 530pm): Seeing clients

1730-1930 (530pm to 730pm): Drive back to the workshop venue and arrive at around 6pm. The mzungu proxy is so happy to see me, he transfers the reins to me instantly. Aich.

1930-2030 (730pm to 830pm): I take supper with the taskforce fellas.

2030-2230 (830pm to 1030pm): We go in for the night session. We were hoping to close at 1100pm but at 1030pm when I stand up and declare that I am literally sleeping on the job! I am so tired I can hardly follow and type-in the corrections and additions streaming in from all the fellas at lightning speed. We agree to start at 730am the next day. I beg to leave early the next day to attend to my clients.

2230-0630 (1030pm to 630am): One of the most peaceful nights I have ever had! I slept like a baby!

Friday:

0700-0730 (700am to 730am): Breakfast

0730-0900 (730 to 900am): Doing the project thing with the taskforce. I leave at 9am to attend to my clients and leave the taskforce fellas to finish the remaining part of the work.

0900-1730 (9am to 530pm): Seeing clients.

1730-2030 (530pm to 830pm): At a site. Looking good actually…the water meters have been fixed and working. Some two guys at the kitchen cleaning. One of the guys was cleaning the panes and broke one and so they had to fix it back and now someone is also cleaning the panes on the window. The tiles are back on and the stair has been cleaned too…these guys are walking on the tiles before they dry up? OK. The lights in the front look beautiful hehehe….Aich.

There is going to be a lot of work to landscape that compound…it looks like a war zone. I pay Mulu and head off. In notice some of the guys have converted the place into a home…hehehe…they sleep in there, apparently shower there too, and even eat there. Hehehe…

Excavations have started in the next compound. Hehehehe….Aich. That guy is in for it. I don’t envy him at all.

I hope no one comes to say any of those tiles are sticking up above the rest again or anything like that.

2130-2230 (930pm to 1030pm): Back in the house. Check out my mail and realise they have already mailed me all the work we did before they left the workshop venue at 3pm earlier in the day. I spend the evening reading through it. Aich. This thing is killing me. Hako kamzungu kakirudi, I will dump this thing on her so fast!

2230-0708 (1030pm to 708am): Sleeping.

Sato and Sunday:

Maafakin on call!!!!!!! Again!!! As I type this, just coming out of surgery.

So, if I don’t put up a post, fucking forgive me.

Sometimes I feel as if the wind is flying up my ass instead of down hehehe….

Mysterious woman

I walked into the club feeling rather pessimistic.

I had been working so hard the whole week to complete a project; just to be told that I had to wait two more weeks to get my pay for it!

Then I run into an old friend and I am so excited to see him that I immediately offer to buy us the 4o’clock tea. When I ask him how things went with Sarah his fiancée, he tells me they got married, then she developed cancer in one of her eyes, went to South Africa for treatment and died. For some reason, that just devastates me. I feel tears stinging behind my eyes but I fight them off. How could I not even have heard of such a major thing when it happened? We come out of the restaurant and bid each other bye, I drive off and park outside the hotel and it is raining cats and dogs. I come out and get rained on like shit on my way to the reception. I come out after napping for two hours and taking a shower and note that some stupid idiot has dented my car while pulling out of the parking lot and did not care to leave contact note!

It is just one of those afternoons when everything seems to be laced with some disaster…like something ominous is following your every step of the way. I take a rather late supper and head for the club.

So I get into the club planning to take only two to three beers and head off to sleep my heavy heart off.

In the club a head for the counter first, then I change my mind and head for a table not too far off from the counter, sit and make an order. As the beer arrives, a shy looking woman approaches gets seated opposite me on the table and starts playing with her phone.

She has nice hair, which she has straightened and combed down backwards in a relaxed free style…her hair is rather long for a Kenyan girl. I say hi, and she looks up…I notice she has captivating, almost sad eyes. She says hi back in a rather husky, almost masculine voice.

She is wearing rather excessive amount of lip gloss on her prominent lips. She has smallish nose. She has one of those cheap necklaces you find in tourist curio shops, and large round shiny metallic ear rings. Rather flat bosom too…

I asked if I could buy her a drink and she agreed immediately. She asked for a bottle of Kingfisher (A sweet, cheap wine of sorts that is sold by the bottle in most Kenyan bars).

 

As we converse I notice that she has a rather unusual accent…only to find out that she has lived in six different African countries, and that she is actually in Kenya only because she is in School, and she has a thirteen year old daughter who is also in School (in Nairobi)! Aich. She was separated from her husband, who was living in a neighbouring country. She was surviving on some child support arrangement of sorts…

When she gets drunk, she shares a lot about her childhood, and stuff about her life that honestly I wished she had not…lakini too late.

I kept looking at her face, she rarely laughed, only smiled briefly at my jokes and then flashed back into an absorbed intense rather sad expression. There was something about her eyes that made me wish I had what it would take to bring some sparkle of joy into them.

We left together much, much later than I had intended to stay up. In the room, I advanced very cautiously on her. When I took off her blouse, I noticed that she rather skinny and muscular. She had easily noticeable veins running down her arms, and had smallish but well shaped breasts. I played with her body for quite some time before peeling off her panties. She had quite huge labia, (I avoid cunnilingus, but I just found myself going down hehehe…) Aich.

I could not quite find her clit…but the labia were a mouthful. She kept pressing my face down into her cunt as she squirmed around in apparent excitement. I noticed that she had a protuberant ring around her asshole; ?early haemorrhoids…but I was not bothered much. She had a rather narrow pelvis…and smallish and rather muscular thighs.

But she had one of the sweetest pussies I have ever banged. I came in two, maybe three short minutes, suited up again immediately and went on for quite some time…and then had a screamer. She woke me up at 4am asking me to take her back to college. I called a cab for her, and gave her some money for her trouble. I thought to get her number but I changed my mind, big mistake!

I want to see that woman again. I can’t shake off her captivating gaze. I can’t forget her husky voice. I can’t escape the sweet feel of her long slender fingers in my hair as I was going down…I miss her strange accent…It is such a mystic feeling I have towards this woman…Aich. I am going back to that college to look for her…so help me god. I will.

Alone again

As the day starts, it becomes apparent to me that I am at one of those points where one needs time alone to decongest his mind (and may be decongest his life too).

So I take off in search of solace. About one and a half hours later I find myself in a lakeside haven called Enashipai (or something like that). Those of you who like visiting exotic places in the middle of nowhere, try this place out. It is in Naivasha along the south lake road.

I walk around kidogo and finally settle at a table in the restaurant’s patio.

That place provides a very serene setting for introspection, but not near as much solace. Most of the women coming to that hotel are rather goodlooking. And I find women very distracting (do I say?) I try sitting down and just staring into the space in front of me, but my view keeps getting interrupted.

I pull out my phone and start going through some diary entries. Soon I am engrossed and completely lost in thought.

Lunch time arrives and I order for pizza that comes weighing in at about 200kg! I ask the young man to take it back, serve me three pieces and pack the rest.

As he leaves I try to go back into budha mode; then a beautiful girl who used to be my student just shows up and interupts everything (kweli). She is allegedly bringing her parents all the way from Nairobi to see the place! (Ya right.) She supposedly running some business in Nairobi….OK.

By the time I get rid of her, budha has returned all the way back into the endless pit, and I cant retrieve.

So I finish my pizza, it starts raining seriously. I get out and head back to the city.

I see in the evening news that the rain caused flash floods that left 7 missing at a place 15 minutes down the road from the hotel. Aich!

Hii maisha…

What the car says about her continued…

Celica, Nissan Z and other entry level coupés

Jovial; fun girl, probably just trying to sprinkle some fun into her otherwise very boring life…always looking for where the next party is at

CLK, Z3/M (or Z4/M!), and all the other mid-range coupés

Daddy’s girl. Spoilt brat. This kid will put a dent in your pocket so massive you will be in recovery mode for half the year hehehe…

SL, SLK, S5 etc (by the way if you actually know a lady who owns a Ferrari coupé; kudos!)

Forget. Most likely out of your league.

Leave her alone. Fayed died in a tunnel doing 350kph; only his dad gave a fuck! Very few people remember Fayed, or even know who the fuck Fayed is (was). But many flowers are still flowing the other way.

Navara (Hilux TRD, D max, etc…)

She may look kinda dull, but she is actually quite smart somehow. She is likely obese and doesn’t give a fuck. She probably thinks Velcro is the name of a paint. But knows the current price of a sack of potatoes/maize/beans etc; not just in Nairobi, but also in Mombasa, Nakuru, Kisumu, etc…

Noah (L 400, NV, partner etc)

An upstanding citizen; mke nyumbani, ushirika wa wanawake, women’s guild, very active in the local church, etc. Lakini akisema anaenda chama, chunga sana hehehe…

Hiace (shark), Caravan, etc

This one knows how to pinch the pennies. And she is not going to drive this thing; she will be expecting minimum returns at the end of the day from the fella (employee) who drives it lakini.