Who is in town?

L&L

Night clubbing is as awful as the city center. Town is the worst part of the world, it is dirty dusty and crowded.

Town always makes you feel like you are in a dustbin even though you can't see rubbish anywhere. Town is just magical dammit! And special.

You park at Nakumatt Lifestyle cause town is simply the only place that makes you feel a car is a bad idea? You can't just get to shops in town in a car. But then again shops in town have more non sense than anything of quality.

But sometimes you have to take a dive into the dustbin, right? No?

I parked at Lifestyle, and can I say this? I am not used to such nonsense, the basement parking...up to like three floors down. Are you kidding me?
The air is heavy. The parking spaces are meant for cars on diet, and we all know metals don't slim, even with the fuel prices and giving cars doses of fuel instead of liters. How do you just have jam at an underground parking lot? The air conditioner is bursted. I purely hated it.

But I had to look at the glass half full... spend as little time as possible then escape the town.

I was like climbing out of an oxygen deprived grave climbing up the bunch of stairs from the basement parking to Nakumatt proper. Nakumatt proper is like a street, so crowded. They should have traffic lights for pedestrians.
The chemists there have staff eating in them, who wants to give money to an accountant enjoying their stew and chapati? As if that's saddening enough the edges of the doors feel like they need paint desperately. You know the dirt around a bulb switch that needed a fresh coat of painting six years ago. I hate that. To make make matters worse they still have the audacity to charge as much as a chemist out of town; Where they order a full repainting of the building when there is just a scratch on one wall. Plough back profits man!

I placed my parking pass in the pocket and braved the streets walking. Such a dustbin experience, such complete torture.

I wanted to take a cab but that was a ridiculous idea.

So I walked instead, all the way up to some place near city hall. I like to believe it's the center of town. The center of all shittiness.

Again, I hate our former driver, pure evil man, he is the cause off all the misfortune in this world.

But let's leave that alone, am no Nairobians I come from the place where they grow Bailey that makes the beer that everyone in Nairobi finishes for everyone else in the country. So I don't get it when get into the building and some bustards want me to sign in a book leave my Drivers Licence and stuff. I wonder why the hell do people come to town to subject themselves to such torture?

I leave my Drivers Licence. Get to the office, pick the cake parcel i was meant to pick. Nothing but sweetness, nothing but sweetness, right? and it is as heavy as my problems. To add icing on it am hungry. But I would rather faint than eat in town.

Task one done but...

I still have one more building to carry my hungry stomach to and my heavy cake to. I get into Starcom, yes it's the building close to Galitoz Hilton. That awful place.

You should be charged a monthly fee for getting up those stair, I promise you they are a gym, with the heavy cake in my hand I can say I was at the gym. They feel like climbing a tree.

I pick the package I was meant to pick from the office there. The receipt read like a 40k, and am wondering who needs to buy computer parts that can fit in my arm for 40k! And they aren't diamonds? I guess that's why I quit I.T and joined law.

It's only in town where it is standard proceedure to show your receipt when you leave the entrace in a building. It's only in town that such non sense is condowned. And the guards in town remember are just completely crude, so...

"hiyo ni nini umebeba..."

I show them the receipt, cause its ridiculous to fight carrying a cake.

I walk out back again back to where everyone is, on the streets, walking almost bumping into me. My hands are full when everything wants to fall down including my trousers. And I get on edge when phone starts ringing and the vibrate is not helping my falling trousers.

I wonder whether I should let the cake lie on the street and do my belt. But that's ridiculous and dirty when you are in town. Even though the streets are clean in town, they are not. I could ask someone to help me out, a stranger samaritan, but we are in town remember, pick pockets and thieves are in ties.

Technically I don't think germs can jump of the floor to the cake cause of the carton wrap. But social rules dictates that I can't put a cake on the floor just like you can't pick crips when they fall on the table, or pick a spoon when it falls down in a restaurant and give it to the waiter.

So I walk like I have shit in my pants, apart... One step at a time like I have just being circumcised. And people are looking at me weird. Why do people look at you weird when you have luggage?

I am not going to walk like this to lifestyle. I can't take a bus cause it's not like it will drop me at lifestyle, it will drop me far from where I have to go which is like three floors underground.

Oh, I hate town. I am hungry, I feel like I want a shower, I feel like the sun has ruined me, the air is unbreathable. It's just plain awful I would almost rather be in a farm.

"lifestyle 200 bob boss, twende..."

I learnt that when you say 'hi' to a cab guy he adds a zero to the cab fee. If you call him boss, he subtracts the last zero digit.

I also leant it's easier to tell them the price rather than to ask them the price. Something to do with not giving people options.

"you will drop me at b3"

"we are getting in?"

"yeah my car is in the basement."

"ahh you will have to add on that price."

And I could see him judge. My luggage was not that heavy. I could see him judge like my house help judges.

Ati, huyu hawezi osha nguo, mvivu kabisa. You know, I don't get it, you expect my friends will not tell me about what you say behind my back in my house. I will fire your ass and advice you to stick it in. Okay, maybe I can't cause she is too good at her work, as in she washes brown trousers until they are gold. White shirts until they are diamonds.

I wish she would wash the air in town. Did i mention the air in town makes me feel like I have an extra layer of heavy vaseline on my face, only that it is not that but is a layer of pure dirt? I don't know, something about town makes you feel dirty all over, right?

So we were finally at b3, he got right to where my car was. I paid him. He turned his cab around to leave. I reversed mine, and immediately I was behind his car in my car for the next thirty minutes in the car basement parking jam. Did I tell you I absolutely hate town.

Google Maps. Shortest distance to Nakumatt Junction.

I wasn't hungry enough to eat in the dustbin.

I loved it the moment I arrived. The parking space is so close to where you are going, actually you park, seat under the tents at Java you look to the side and you can actually see your car standing comfortable under the stage. No need for car wax sunscreen.

And there are trees, and the air is cool. The air is fresh. And I am seated across a girl. The seats are benches, but it's Java and their food is great, so I don't care. We don't care.

You can't even compare those seats to the seats at Galitoz near Hilton, but guess what it's never about the size of the house...it is always about location location location...

They serve Coke in a very clean glass, and drop ice cubes in it for me as I watch. The guards don't ask me for my Drivers License, they are actually friendly, okay not friendly friendly us Stanley Hotel, they aren't friendly but respectful. Why the hell did I go to town? Why couldn't I have shopped here. Everything is here...

"hey, can I taste your chicken..."

"mhh delicious, I let me fork sink in her food."

She smiles, and the trees sing to the wind.

"this almost feels like the beach."

"yes, it does, you look even prettier here."

The more we eat, the more we get relaxed. The slower life becomes, the more comfortable life becomes.

And there is laughter, quiet laughter not like in town where everyone is sad, and those that laugh laugh like they want to show their throats.

"we go shop..."

And we pass through the shops, they have everything. And everything fits well. The trousers aren't made using a straight ruler like a Toyota Probox is, they have curves, you wear a piece and it falls on you nicely. The fabrics aren't paramountly synthetic like a sack of potatoes scratching your back. The fabrics are natural, they ask you to sweat, and they absorb, they don't ask you to sweat, and get stranded spreading sweat on parts of the body that weren't sweating before.
They don't feel like you feel wearing a paper bag or sand paper. They don't charge you when you go to the loo, like some shitty place I found in town. Or tell you loos are for paying customers, cheap bustards.

"I swear when I packed here my car had dust?"

"are you serious?"

"where is my dust..."

"really?"

Everything out of town is better. Town is okay, maybe at night but still...

If you find me in town, know that am there to make money. Never to spend it. Never to spend it! Never! You hate town to, right? Punish town by not spending money in it. Punish it mercilessly. You just realizing it now aren't you. Just be truthful. Isn't it easier to walk from Westgate to Nakumatt UK eight times than to walk that distance once anywhere in town.

If am in town am either being kind to someone I love by running their errands. If am in town, probably it's at night and parking is in plenty. Or we are doing stunts around roundabouts. Please keep off town. If you are in town what are you doing? Making money... Not spending it. If I catch you in town, am blocking you out of the blog. Who is in town?

The Sad.

In class years ago. Rain pouring outside. My fingers covered in gloves. My toes still freezing even in shoes. And it's not the day I had to wear cold socks cause the sun didn't come up and they didn't dry. It's just a fridge day and the sun simply refused to warm my heart up.

I can see the teachers mouth moving. He is talking about something. I am looking outside the window. Wishing the sun would come up, cause it is really cold. My face has sank in my hand. I am day dreaming. I am drawing something in my notebook as I think. I don't know what am drawing but I will shade it and it will form something.

I didn't know sometime in the future I will feel that cold. I thought those days were over.

But here I am, sadder than Adele's songs.

I remember the tear that felt warm at the back bottom of my eyes. What an overwhelming sensation. I never thought she was that kind of a person. I didn't know she was that kind of girl. I didn't know any girl was that kind of girl. I thought such cruelty was a reserve for men, who can be heartless but we still have souls.

She was pure truth when I met her. In fact I was the first to have her love. She let me in. I let her in. The world is a cruel place, it can throw bricks at you. But I could stand in front of her. I wouldn't hesitate to save her. To protect her.

I thought she would do the same. Protect me.

I sat on the bench at some field in some private country club. She was wearing a heavy red cable knit sweater, with large collars going up to the large melons on her chest. Was it black or red? The sweater?

I must have forgotten. Cause since I found out what she had been doing behind my back, it's very easy to remember her in red sweaters, or black. Red means stop, red is the color of blood, black is the color of darkness...

I went through her inbox and letters. And suddenly I was in a black room. On the floor was my heart. Red blood oozing off it, it jumped up and down like a tortured animal, screaming about to die. Someone save it, anyone? I had been torn apart. My heart could barely breath.

I wanted to shout at her, but I couldn't. My throat had a tear. I tried to clear my throat but words wouldn't just come out.

Who were all those men? Who were they? That knocked at her door while she was in her bath tub? And she let them in. Who were all those men? I was sharing her with? That knocked at her door, while she was in the bathtub, that she met at her door with only a towel on. And every time after she shared what was mine with another, she went back to shower but went back again and it was a weekend marathon.

How could she be so bold about it? How could she? Talk about it amongst her friends. The ones she introduced me too.

And as we sat down over coffee all of us, celebrating what we had. Everyone around knew I was the one being taken for a ride. I should have been crying not laughing as we all sat back on those seats enjoying the golden sunset in the cold with hot chocolate drinks and friends and love.

I remember I wore a maroon polo shirt that day I found out. It is still my best fitting shirt. I remember the pair of loafers I wore that day. The ones that tanned with age, comfortable pair. But I can't wear those anymore. They feel like they are bad luck. Cause the day I found out about the real you, was my most unluckiest day. I think about it as I walk in the streets, and I take steps slower. My heart beats so slow if I think about it too long I think it would just stop beating.

The world come crumbling down. The wipers tried to wipe the rain from the windscreen that night as I drove home. But it was raining too hard. My eyes were too wet. They made everything a blur. You made my world a blur. You burst my bubble. The world has simply not been the same to me. All that you did made me change the way I love. Do you know that? You caused it... I walk down the streets as I think about that, and sometimes I forget and slow down in the middle of the road, and cars hoot but I can't hear. You made me feel what death feels like. I thought you meant the best for me.

But now I know better. Today, I might think am doing very fine. And a second later, I discover something I didn't know, and the lights go off all on me. The twinkle in my eyes dissolves in painful balancing tears and the only thing I can see is a heart on the ground with blood all over it. Ripped mercilessly apart.

I know it's not okay World, I know it's not okay World, you are the worst place I have ever been in. And you are the only place I have been in. No matter who promises what... No matter what I do... No matter how sure I am... You always have a sickening surprise for me... Cruel damn World...

I know what I have to do to escape you, take a trip up to the skies... Sit in the skies with the stars when you make me mad. And I will stay up there cause stars always twinkle even on a dull night. And when I feel better...

I will come down to earth. And I will continue to fight with you. Sometimes you will win, and I will be sad. Sometimes a girl will depress me, and my world will fall apart.

But sometimes I will win world, and she will show me love. And I will not anticipate misfortune when I have fortune. I will enjoy that fortune. Live in the moment. Who knows, maybe I will win forever...

But if I lose sometimes, I have the stars to look up to, Always!

I partied in Jerusalem and almost died in Jericho.

L&L

The stories you will never hear are these ones. One night, I was on the road. It was a dark road. I knew it was but I felt I had to go home no matter the risk. And she was attacked by robbers. Beaten up. Stripped down. And left on the ground to die.

This post comes after 'valentines dammit' so please indulge yourself with the first which I posted earlier before we go on with this one. Why? So that you guys can get your money's worth.

Someone in the background chuckles saying. "but you entertain us for free!"

"what?"

I am shocked. I wear my shocked face with my mouth shaped as an oh and my eyes very wide open. I drop my iPad. What do you mean I entertain you for free? For almost two years I have been writing for you for free? And no one ever says thanks. Thanks Bobby, you entertained me tonight? What do you mean it's like a movie? You hear a nice song from Adele but that doesn't mean you send her an email saying. Wassup Adele, that piece you wrote, wonderful song, wonderful.

Anyways, I should do something about that... This free stuff has gone too far.

But then again. I love writing so... Please go back to Valentines Dammit which was published before this if you haven't by now. Such rebels, haya...tuendele basi.

...the world was in a envelope like it always is at night; covered in complete darkness. The car finally started to behave, I guess when a car gets older that's what it does. It develops moods like periods. Sometimes it wants to move sometimes it doesn't. It want to be pampered and what not. It wants to rest. It had rested. I guess that's why it started moving. But just to be safe I got a breakdowns number just in case I stalled in jam somewhere in the city with all the sad Nairobians seated in their Range Rovers, Vitz and mkokoteni(s) ready to hoot their engine parts out if I stalled on the road and caused some jam. I wasn't taking a chance...

That's what it made me think, from village market to town it behaved, and I started to have confidence in it. This car will make it. Two hours out of town it will. Besides, it's not that late...

"hey, babe, I think I will just drive home...I feel like this car has healed."

Yeah. I don't know why I started to feel like the car had white blood cells and could suddenly get better after a little sleep. Or perhaps I thought the ovacado that fell on the windscreen when it was packed knocked some sense into the engine.

"are you sure babe?"

"yeah...it feels really strong. I will find some place to park. When you see me parked beside the road stop and let's hug goodbye."

I put mine beside the road. She put her's in front of me; I mean the car. I got out of my car. She got out of her's. We met half way. We exchanged a hug. We got into one of the cars. We did a little kissy and touchy.

"sorry, valentines didn't turn the way it should...but I will make it up, Sunday we will go do horses in Naivasha. You will have the white pony, I know you love the white pony."

"it's okay babe, just get home safe."

I didn't feel the goodbye as much. But what could I do? I put on some music and started eating Tarmac to my destination.

The sun left work as I travelled. I listened to x-fm it helped my mood. Rap music is based on the theme of the hustle. Rock has a tendency to sadness and it's too vague. I listened to rock. It made me feel like I was in this world alone. I was in that car alone. No one really cared about me... I could just die and rot alone. But even though I was alone, it was okay cause I at least have my writing. It's my art and it will never fail me. No matter what I go through it will become a good story, I will make it a good story.

But people will only go so far to help you. When you are in a house and there is a raging fire and you are stuck, as much as there are heros, sometimes the situation is so bad they will just stand outside and watch you burn cause they can't help. If you got beaten up by thieves, robbed you and left you in the streets face deformed, you will not notice it's Bobby lying there in the streets all disfigured. You will pass around him, away from him actually. Even that gay guy that noticed I am the one who writes this stories and bought me a beer will leave me for dead. In my defense I thought he was just being nice. I have never accepted another free beer again. Now I get why women can be so cold, a beer is equal to...

Every time I went up a hill I pressed the accelerator harder. And somehow I felt like the car wasn't moving like it should, but I had already done quite a distance from Nairobi. There was no turning back.

It got darker and darker, cars were moving faster and faster, cause it was late at night and the highways are a risky place. That and the fact that cops aren't on the road checking speeders at night. They know the highways aren't safe and sometimes it is wise to run.

I drove as fast as I could going down hill, on flat roads, but uphill, the car simply slowed down. Every time I managed a hill I felt myself breath out.

I was going to make it. Sometimes I felt like the power steering wheel was lose and decided when I reach the escapement or a bridge I would drive slowly. I didn't want to simply lose control of the car and roll of an escapement to my death. Have you seen how high those things are from the foot of the escapement? It's as suicidal as jumping of a plane in the sky.

I didn't want to overtake any car, cause let's say I did, and the car stalled at the overtaking lane. Right there am stuck infront of an on coming bus.

Crush. Dead. Burial. Blog becomes a hit but am dead and can't live to see the epitome of the success of my writing.

I was afraid of getting a head on collusion with a car that would leave people wondering whether I got ran over by a train. But you know that's what happens to sitting ducks. You didn't know? Now you know. I didn't overtake therefore.

But the night turned as dark as a horror movies, and I hate horror movies. I don't think mother nature is really a mother, a mother cant possibly be as cruel as that. It was as if nature was playing a sick prank on me. Just when it was completely dark. completely scary, completely lonely, the riskiest spot on the highway the car went off.

Yes, a total black out. As in off in a way it had never gone before. The dashboard was out. Heck even the hazzards couldn't work. I was in the middle of the road in total darkness. I wanted to close the window, but the window was electric so, it couldn't close. I wanted to open the boot put the triangles out on the road. But the boot is also electric, you press a button and it opens. I pressed the button, and it screamed I am dead, you will be dead soon. I can't believe I kept on pressing the button over and over again.

I was in a mess.  I looked at my rare view mirror and I saw light. I knew that was a bus. The speed it was coming at it wouldn't stop. It would simply meet my car which had no lights on whatsoever. Gently powerfully and completely scoop my car  with me in it and let me scream my way down to the foot of the bridge. Die like a rat.

Yes, I stalled at the bridge. And it would be an easy R.I.P Bobby, we will miss you, we will miss your writing, even the post that were shit will be popular.

No need for a burial, I would be buried in that car.

But I wasn't ready for that. I jumped out of the car. Left it there, went to the side of the road. Crossed my fingers together. My eyes shut praying that no one hits the car over the cliff like a footballer kicks out off a ball into the air.

I kept doing that. It became like a game, I dash to the car. Before I can start it I see another car in the rare view mirror. I run out stand beside the road.

I was alone. There was no one I could call. There were people I could call who would get me out of the mess in a second with choppers even, but no. I would have rather died than done that.

It was cold. I could smell a murder. I could smell robbery. I could smell car jackers. I couldn't believe it was me at the riskiest spot at night with a stranded car, alone. The bloody way, that's what they should call that spot on the high way. The ghost of death, the taker of life. Surrender to death.

It simply was more nerve wrecking to stand there and do nothing. So I decided I was going to try push the car out of the road.

So, I get in, drop the hand break, hold the steering wheel so that as I push the car the car doesn't steer out of the bridge and I dive with it to my death, at the same time pushing it with my other hand.

The thing about pushing cars is that they gain momentum, and when you are alone, minus moon light you don't know where the bridge starts or where it ends.

I pushed it, it got momentum, I jumped in to press the break. The bonnet  was off the road but the boot was in the road. I simply over steered out of fear of the bridge thing. Note the car wasn't now parallel with the lines on the road but horizontal. Yes. Just perfect.

I took out all the valuable things I had, out of procedure. Placed them under the seat. I was okay with them being stolen. I knew I would die anyways, I really didn't care, I had said my prayers, repented. I just didn't want the thieves who would eventually catch me to decide to keep me alive and make me ransom cause I have a nice watch or something. I wanted to be plain. A simple death.

I was in Limuru  highway. All I wanted was one person to stop even if they would be in their cars, and shout...

"son, do you need help?"

And I would tell them, "just head to Limuru town and send a breakdown here as you travel...I might get slaughtered and die alone down here, please have some mercy. Help me in that way."

But they didn't. I stood there, not knowing what to do. My blackberry out of charge. Just me and my last breathes, just me and robbers, murders and what not. I hear they are as cold as Limuru nights are.

The Good Samaritan is a story told of a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. This guy was beaten up, robbed and stripped then left for dead. You think times have changed. I think not. The road to Jericho from Jerusalem was a risky spot. Martin Luther King said so himself. He rented a car with his wife and at that spot on the road he saw why the story setting was there. The road was a perfect spot for murders and robbers since early times.

Some Levites passed by, we suspect that this guy thought that probably the guy was faking. He was posing as an injured person so, you in your Big car will be careful not stop, you will even drive faster, cause the roads are risk and if you stopped. You might also meet the robbers who might be hiding. Find out that all the blood that guy had on him was red tomato sauce.

The Priest also decided not to stop and help the guy. But in the story came a good Samaritan. He stopped my friend. It's not that he didn't think that the robbers who robbed him had left him there as a trap to nab another, beat him, strip him and leave him for dead. It's not that he didn't think that probably the guy lying there half dead and in complete pain was part of the gang of robbers. He knew that might be the case.

But he felt the man's pain. He had compassion. What if he left him there? What would happen to him? What if? And that's why he stopped to pick him up... He carried him. Took him to an inn in Limuru. Paid for his stay at Kentmere club. Got a breakdown to toll his car. Paid the toiling track in the tunes of almost ten thousand bob. And told them, if there were more expenses he would come pay.

That's not what happened to me. But that's what happened between Jerusalem and Jericho. Some random guy stopped in spite of all the risks. The risks were there those days. You might think today is more dangerous than those years. But let me tell you, it's the same, they traveled on horses and donkeys. Now we have horsepower car but we still engage in transport and we still have thieves in society who are as greedy as the ones before. They will not be afraid to let your blood drain on the tarmac for your few shillings. One two, enough to spill your blood.

But don't worry, I came out of that, and I tell you this. No matter the situation, no matter whether I will be on a bicycle, or in a chopper and I see your car stalled on the road in the middle of the night. I will be there.

And I will assess the situation. Am not saying I will be stupid about it, I will be witty about it. But I will not leave anyone lonely by the road to die. I will not leave anyone stripped by the street bleeding till life does part with him, if it implicates me so be it, I will try to escape from the implication, but never will I escape from saving a life. Cause that's how to save a life.

I will not think, hey, what if the robbers are still there, what if this is a trap, I will think... What will happen to her if I leave her there, beaten, robbed and stripped?

I will not be able to comfortably say "give him whatever he needs, fix whatever has to be fixed, if you need extra I will pay you when I come back..." if am on a bicycle. But I will sacrifice what I have, the little I have. And no, I will not expect to be refunded like good Samaritans expect to be nowadays.

I hope I will be able to say "give him whatever he needs, fix whatever has to be fixed, if you need extra I will pay you when I come back..." in a  Bentley Continental. They have like a Bentley driving school or something. As in you buy a car...and you learn a new to drive the brand of cars.

You can be sure, I will be that guy with a sagged tie. Wonderful black suit and a shirt as white as light, yes, you should also get a shirt that is as white as light, not dull as white as light, well fitting. It speaks. Sipping coffee at 1am in the morning. Driving at a speed that makes my car sound like a jet only that it is down to earth with its features. But not to worry, the cars I will be driving will have the steering vibrate when there is a warm blooded creature on the road. Yes, you can buy one now, they are already in shops but...you know. Those shops need three legs and three arms.

And when my steering vibrates, I wouldn't hesitate to stop. I will get my hands dirty, I will drive back to the nearest town, get a towing truck for you. Drive you to Kentmere, send an engineer to fix your car. Pay for your accommodation. Make sure you are well. And I will not leave my name, I will not want you to feel indepted to me. At times like those you never remember people's names or to ask them for their names.

And that will be my life... I will try to save your life while keeping mine. But I will never try keeping mine by not saving yours.

It's always a risk, the greater the risk the greater the reward. And my reward would be watching anonymously from a distance, a father walk home to his daughter, a mother walk home to her son, a sister walk home to her brother, a daughter walk home to her parents, and that picture will be my reward.

You never know until you have been through it, you might go through it but you ignore it later. But I will be there, whether I have gone through it or not, whether everyone ignores it or not, when disaster happens I will be the fast one in, and the last one out...

And that is how to save a life.

Genius.

There are models, then those models have a sub-group of a smaller group of models that are super models, and those super models form another group and thus when you have the super model of super models.

You make better decisions towards a goal than the average person does and all of a sudden you are above the crowd. The crowd is average. Hence the name average. Smart is always better than average. Smart people are always a smaller crowd than the average people. Then genius is an even smaller crowd. If everyone is unique then it's not unique anymore. If everyone is a genius then it's not genius anymore. The appeal of a genius is that a person who has put more effort than everyone else and is at the top on another level above everyone else in that field.

You do realize that Gucci has lost it's appeal cause it's turned into a mass product.

There is being smart. That can take you far. But then smart just puts you ahead of the crowd. Genius puts you on top of everything. 

What I consider genius is not what everyone considers genius. I have been reading about genius since the invention of words, am ready to listen to what you have to say cause it's important to listen. But with that said here me out, cause these is something I have thought about for more years than you have. 

I consider a genius a genius if the genius produces something new. Yes, brilliant new things. I consider Shakespeare a genius cause during his time I don't think literature had developed in such a way it has today. And yet at that time he came up with brilliant pieces. No, it doesn't matter that that South African literature professor wants to dig him up cause he thinks he used to smoke pot.

I consider the guy who came up with the Turbo engine in cars a genius. Cause that's productive. He must have looked at the car engine as a piece of art. He enjoyed it cause art is the thing you enjoy. Things with design. I bet he wanted the car to move faster, that was what he wanted before he invented it. Probably he slept on it, probably he spent hours doing research, and after all that probably as he had a shower or listened to some uplifting music, he decided his invention shall be called the Turbo Engine. And I consider that guy a genius, cause cars have moved faster since his design.

I consider musicians geniuses, the successful ones. I bet it's a complicated process involved in a successful music career. Cause genius is about productivity, and mostly production of new things.

I guess a musicians goal is to have a successful music career, true to her art, yet at the same time having enough to feed her. 

I have always thought sometimes all you need is natural talent, disregard everything else, but I guess I was wrong. I have always loved the idea of a short cut to everything. But that's not a valid path. 

I would use the word genius lightly on a musician who tops the charts while in fact most of the songs she sings were written for her. Unless of cause her passion is not quite creating music but topping the charts. 

I would use the word genius very lightly on a musician who plays no major role in determining what her album cover is. I understand that the greater you are, the more specialized your work is. You have someone to draw your album cover, you have someone to control the public perception of you, you know publicist, you have someone to make sure your albums are distributed well enough to fit their demand. But if this takes place without your involvement then I don't consider you genius. I consider you genius if you are the C.E.O of all these, everything passes through you, from the album cover drafts, the marketing strategies etc

If all that is in your control, and somehow you end up having the must fulfilling music career, electrifying shows, powerful performance, awesome PR, then I consider the success of your music career as a result of your genius as a whole. 

However, if you just write good songs, and sing well, I would consider you a song-writing genius, if you perform well I consider you a performing genius. 

I believed in taking a short cut, but my exposure to more knowledge has taught me differently, nothing teaches like experience does. For you to properly have a successful career you must work hard. Cause it always comes down to the decisions you make.

What to write about, how to write it, how to get feed back from your fans, what feedback to take seriously and what not to, how to market yourself, how to produce something new, how to do things differently for the result you seek.

Hard work is what wakes you up in the morning to write, Practise makes perfect across the board. So no matter how talented you are, you must realize that you know a lot but there is still more to learn, and when you learn it the decisions you make about issues are the best.

If you fall ill you see a doctor, a doctor listens to you, analysizes your situation, makes a decision on how to treat your ailment, what drugs to use etc 

It's the same in courting. As much as love happens let's talk reality. Some people are more on demand than others. No, please don't catch feelings, this is on a science perspective. Some people are on demand more than others are.

Let's talk sex, men and their quest for sex. It all comes down to decisions. You want to court, then you firstly have to make a decision to get out of the house. As much as you are attractive, you are only attractive when you are around people, cause it's people that find you attractive and therefore want to court you. The larger the crowd, the more your beauty is appreciated, the larger the crowd, the more your beauty is appreciated, the greater election of mates to choose from.

So, when someone calls you a genius trust me to interview you. I will ask you what you want from your music career. If the paramount reason is making money. I will ask you what you have done to ensure that? Are you doing more shows, are you putting most of your effort in marketing? Are you the one making the decisions that bring you that fortune? Or are you the one making the decisions about the people who make decisions to make money? 

I consider Shakespeare a genius even though I dont know much about him cause... For one, he started writing when writing was not the usual thing to do. I bet he even had a limitation of words when he started out, language had not developed as much as it has now. I consider him a genius cause his aim was not to ever die. Has he ever died? Really? Has he...

My ambitions are a private affair, but you can trust that I am going to make the best decisions I can to achieve them. My ambitions are a private affair, I realize that one can't have perfect knowledge, but as I always say there are decisions that are closer to perfect than others.

And how do you make better decisions than the average person in your field to succeed. You work hard, you put effort, and you clearly define your goals.

I have put down my goals about this, and every decision I make I have thought about, I have researched about, I know some may look ridiculous but isn't that what genius is? Producing new things.

A couple of people have called me genius. I accept the complement cause it's the cutious thing to do. But at the back of my mind it drops down to my intentions and decisions. Is the reason why they call me genius rooted from the decision I made?

A toast to discovery what hard work and passion can do. Smart people realize the power of a Monday morning to their career. But a genius makes Saturday Monday cause she has to learn the perfect dance routines, if it makes her sweat out all her energy it doesn't matter. She will notice that her voice affects her breathing in live performances, she will get into water and Practise to hold her breath.

And when she is on the stage for thirty minutes, everything will be perfect, cause she spent three hundred hours practicing for those thirty minutes. And her performance will be electrifying, and you will call her genius cause she creates the perfect live audience performance. 

Perfect lighting, wonderful voice, perfect dance routines, perfect marketing so the stage is packed, best pricing for the ticket, a little stunt to get on the papers, a YouTube video to make the performance last forever, album on sale at the entrance... 

Airport.

What makes fly540 similar to a public bus? the free-seating policy! So I thought I was going to fight for seats like hungry dogs fight for a bone, survival for the fittest. The winner gets the nicest seat on the plane.

But turns out I completely underestimated these guys, turns out they had more in store for me. Apparently they are more incompetent than you might think, they were going to make me fight for more basic things that would make sheer fighting for the best seat seem like a luxury.

It all started at Westlands, oh how I have a lovely girlfriend. If she was a bird she would be a dove. I asked the Mololine Shuttle driver to drop me off at the Mall, he gladly obliged. You see, that's good customer service.

On alighting, before my shoe felt Nairobi soil, I had like five cab guys offering to take me to wherever I wanted. By the time I offloaded my luggage from the boot, I almost thought I was the president. Before I had found my way out of my entourage of cab drivers opening car doors for me and offering to help me with my luggage, I saw her car. We caused a little jam but no one hooted. I got into the co-drivers, hugged her. Her beauty is everything I have wished for since I was little.

We drove off, I kept looking at the time, but one kiss and another helped me acquire a little blindness every time I looked at my wrist. But my love was everything but blind when i chose her, she is a girl of stunning features. Womanly young creature of beauty.

Bread goes well with jam, but let me tell you something that doesn't go well with jam at all- time. Jam at the parking lot mixed with time is nothing for your sweet tooth. Absolutely. Where are time machines when you need them? It was quarter to 4pm, which was quarter away to take off. Where are time machines when you need them man?

I was walking with hope. Anytime now it will be rewarded by a simple hurry up, your plane is almost leaving. My hope also could be slapped by a simple, go away you missed your flight. And since people like to talk about their losses, I would engage in mindless talk, bitch about the jam and the hot lady seated behind the desk stamping the boarding passes will listen, cause that's what you do when you are late, you talk until you accept your loss and walk back home with hope short dead. 
I found no one at fly540 checking counter. How rude? No one to tell of my troubles... Gosh. So cold man, so cold.

I went to their customer care, they told me they would keep me on standby or something. Their was a fifty fifty percent chance I would get to my destination, or stick in NBO. Funny thing, all other airlines don't have such a large customer care office. I guess they need it more than everyone else, I was yet to discover how stressed they would get me. 

It was 4pm, next flight was at 7pm, so check in time should be 6:30pm, but cause once bitten twice shy I was going to be here at 6pm, one hour early. The early bird catches the worm right?

Met my babe, she was outside chilling in her car. Gave her the bad news, she decided she would keep me company. We were at least going to have a proper date, the one I was supposed to have had I arrived at Westlands way earlier than I did.

We went to some restaurants that didn't have nice seats on Terminal one or something. Sat for a while. Then moved to the next restaurant which was a Pub.

Total bourgeois life style. I loved it, clean cut suits. You could tell they were well made. The clientele were elites. Mostly tired business men, and women who didn't quite care, an air of sadness surrounded them and lavish perfumed them.

Babe bitched about the waiters, tried to get a milk shake but they seemed to want us to drink more than eat. Policemen, Mututho law wapi?

I loved the leather elevated bar seats but we had to move. There was a very comfortable couple seated on one of the couch black sofa set. The television seemed to be the one staring at the crowd more than the crowed stared at it. No one cared it was a large screen.

We left.

I was a little on edge I promise you. I wanted time to pass, but again I didn't cause firstly, I had the chance to enjoy lunch with babe, on the other hand there was a fifty fifty chance I might miss the flight.

We ordered fries, she ordered real food, I got Baileys, I didn't like its price but they were reasonable. I got a coke to accompany it. I just love it when you dine at places where you ask for a cold drink and they serve ice cubes with it. (in a separate glass) with a spoon.

My mood lightened up, she laughed she giggled. She held my hand at times, more like touched it as I ate. I touched her's, I took a bite of her food she took a bite of mine. 

"You know no one in our family takes rice in restaurants..."

She was taking a bite of rice.

"they easily rewind food and chances are it is stale most of the times. You can rewind rice but not fries, if fries are spoilt they are spoilt, if rice is spoilt it can be warmed and served."

She looked like she would hit me right in my balls.

"but I guess at such places the food is okay... They look pretty decent." I offered.

She laughed a little. 

"really? Really?"

The chapter was closed, she continued eating. I leaned back, crossed my legs, casually picked one fry from my plate. Sipped my cold drink. She took a bite of her salad. I waited, she put it in her mouth. I was ready...

"you know, no one in our family takes salad out... They are usually not cleaned well."

She froze with her food in her mouth. 

She tilted her head and stared right into me. She was such a lioness. She didn't say, seriously seriously, but her face said it.

"bill please?"

We left. 

We went back to the car. 

"babe, get in I kiss you..."

"do you have to plan everything?"

I got in grabbed her and placed a kiss on her, long but felt short. Ask her, no please ask her, she will never forget it.

Back to square one. Where we were before, dragging suitcases to the check-in point. 

"wow, I love your shoes..."

"thank you."

"I love your eyes dear, and the black dress..."

"I will miss you dear..."

"I will miss you too"

"be safe dear..."

"be safe too"

"we will be strong dear..."

"be strong for me too"

"write me something dear."

"bye"

"bye"

The security guys noticed. We had been there about three times they definitely did. Said goodbye as many times and seemed to miss each other more. We hugged very publicly.

She tried to force herself in, not letting go. I left.

I walked to the Customer Care office again.

"wait until the last passenger boards, if their is space left, you will board too"

I trusted her. I didn't want to but, hey, a company that is always advertising on paper. I went took a seat. I thought they would call me. I thought so, you would think the same if you were in my shoes...

I sat directly opposite the counter, waited for 6:25pm. And that's when I waked back to Customer Care.

"can I board?"

"sorry, the flight is full."

I accepted heart broken.

But then...

About three people waked to the counter. All furious. In short, the had missed their flight, cause they were late. They ranted about the airlines having over booked the flight. I disregarded it cause hey, how could they?

Slowly it started hitting me. If they missed their flight wasn't I supposed to replace them.

Wasn't I? No tell me? Wasn't I? I didn't see anyone else around there on standby but me. I know...I know... What the hell?

Everyone bitched I didn't. They were bitter, I was too. But I didn't want to embarrass her. 

"hello, babe, you can go babe, as in am going to sort this out?"

"am at the car park, how long should I wait?"

"you can go babe they said they will book me in for a flight going to Dar, they say it will stop at my destination before heading to Dar."

"okay, so I leave..."

"will you be okay"

"I guess, I will find away to kill time to 9:00pm."

"so now..."

And my phones network went dead. The screen flashed battery low and fainted.

I unzipped my suit case. Took out an actal tablet. Yes, these company has given me ulcers. If that's the luxury they advertise... I don't want any of it ever.

Yes, you are right. This is how I killed my time. I can see a plane dotted in orange, I have my boarding pass. I can almost run and board. But I have to follow procedure, otherwise, they might arrest me thinking am a drug mule or something, or worse...or worse.

I still distrust this guys. As much as they say i shouldn't worry; i will be in the air in no time. Who knows, I might miss this one to. Didn't they tell me the same thing at 4pm, and I missed, at 6pm, and I missed, at 7pm and I missed. What about 9pm, will I miss?

dull.

My watch says it's on a Tuesday in February @ 1:47Pm. Woke up at around four in the morning, went through some pages on some Psychiatry book by Peter Hill. Then fell back to sleep after I learnt that asking questions answers everything. A ghost told me good night. 

My next alarm clock was hunger; that alarm rings louder than all else.  It was at seven, got to the table and put my hunger to death. Food laid out on the table, bread toasted, coffee and what not. It's not going to last, cause am going back to school. One and a half years to go, and I will be done with my first degree, and if things go on well, my diploma also. Exciting? I think not.

Everyone left, my sister to her fancy school, can't believe she gets to do British system and I didn't. My brother all the way to Nairobi for a little Java and friends. Lamest reason to travel, everyone else gone to work. Just me and the house help, no one to play golf with. Car so low on fuel I bet it will run on sniffed fuel like sniffed glue on the street.

Neglected all my friends, since I have been busy. And therefore can't just call them and ask them to hook up for coffee on a Wednesday. Everyones busy nowadays. Except Facebook right? Out of the blue? Sounds weird. If I kept in touch maybe I would. Ever felt that?

Haven't showered yet, cause I went back to bed, to read irrelevant stuff, which turns relevant and helpful at times.

Generally my mood is crap and slow.

And am trying to get to the root of it. Have you ever been in a crap mood? 

Probably it's fear. School is almost over, the comfort of it, real world here I come. Law practice requires you have to have a boss the first two years of your career. Will I be able to work under anyone? Laugh at some guys jokes and he isn't even funny? Have to hand in assignments in time and even now I can't. Get a salary and not a passive salary? Survive on it. Maybe I should buy an old BMW before I start, something to keep me sane through everything after law school.

I need to do it like my pops did it. Start a practice, get junior lawyers to work in it, go to work at 3pm cause I can. Passive income my guy.

But that requires struggle, when you begin some months you don't make profit, some months you actually make losses. But you still have to give salaries, pay office rent and stuff. Eat the losses as your employes eat their salaries. No wonder bosses are such pains in the.. But after a while, if I keep a float, not sink it's vacation on end. 

Probably that's whats making realize such a horrible mood today. Feels like I am dead. Face feels warm like a fever even and am sure am well. Probably like everyone I should just not care and busy myself with everything and take a day as it comes. 

Or is my mood caused by the lyrics to this song playing in the background in my room? Words change moods. It's not easy to take an insult right? What about if the words are accompanied by a tune? Sure sinks your mood. Maybe I should change the music I am listening to. Something uplifting, music that says, 'you are going through a hard time, but don't worry, you aren't alone' -something Paramore. First world problems?

Or is my mood cause by the fact that I am leaving home? Going back to my house? My apartment where I have to make sure there are cereals in the morning, otherwise I will go hungry. Not a place where I almost have breakfast in bed?

Or is it cause I feel ripped off? Booked fly540 instead of KQ, yet paid more? Is it cause I feel like I should have waited and booked for the Boeing Kenya Airways fleet instead of the regional airliner?
Is it cause I told my family I booked that and they laughed at me? Claiming it is like a matatu, since there are no seat numbers on the ticket?

Probably it's cause BBM-ed some other writers blog link and people enjoyed it more than they enjoyed mine. Cause I have a good piece once in a while he has awesome posts all the time. But I learnt that its always better to work rather than bitch... Which is working all right. Besides beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, different tastes, am glad am your taste.

Whatever mood this is. Bipolar and what not I don't quite really care. In the end I know am not alone, someone out there goes through dull days like I do. 

I know what I love, and I know what I need to do to make sure I am more happier than am sad.

I know law school is almost over, and I will not bitch more than I will strive to excel, it's a journey I will enjoy. Whether it's ambulance chasing...or pulling networks and clients from my connections. I will have fun, I bet you right I will. And I will, get myself a really comfortable office seat, big like a boss', and I will bang the secretary when times are hard. 

And even though am leaving home for school, and it feels like boarding school all over again minus the new shoes and uniform. I will throw parties until I drop. Text my girlfriend until my mood is up. I will be first in the line and get the best seat on that flight. And perhaps carry my head phones cause I hear small planes are louder than big ones.

It's already 2:16pm, and am still in bed. Am going to take a nap for thirty minutes to wash down this mood. Wake up to an alarm ringtone something like Lil Wayne Mirrors, that got to put me in the mood to get to town!

Pick stationary, meet a few friends, have some lunch. Drink life like it was wine. Wine tastes better if you serve it in a better glass. Hand me those fancy wine glasses please...to be Happy more than am sad.

If you can't see the bright side of life, polish the dull side.

What matters.

L&L

We sat next to each other. It was lovely. We drew teachers, we laughed at them. We listened, we laughed. But some people learn faster than others, others are late bloomers and stuff.

She was my desk mate, all was well. Both our grades were not to die for, but we didn't care much. We mostly looked forward to the holidays, tried to survive in boarding school, and concerned ourselves with other things in school but books.

One day after a school visiting day. I think parents talked to the teacher, and she talked to her parents, and it was concluded that...

Anyways, the teacher walked into class with a new resolution, reshuffled the desk mates arrangement. Asked her to go seat far at the other end, and I to remain where I sat.

I didn't feel as bad cause the teacher claimed that, she was the one who wasn't making me do well, not that I was the one making her not do well.

Then slowly she started not talking to me as often. Slowly we stopped seeing each other as often. Her grades went up and mine stayed down. I didn't care then I don't care now.

Now I know you were all looking at me like I was a plague. That I am the one that caused the bad grades. She was the one they were saving from me, I was the bad company to be kept away from. And now it hit me everyone knew but me.

Guess what bitch, am a lawyer you are not! I can take that to the bank you cannot.

Chess.

L&L

Who cares? Will it ever be enough? The more effort you put in something, the more you find it's hard to surrender. But its not always easy to travel not knowing the future. You might not know what is good, or what is bad, cause the future is unpredictable.

No one wants to make a bad decision and stick with it to the end, what if the future of that bad decision is a waste of time? It is a thin line between persistence and madness. But then again, you might make a good decision, and the whole future becomes a fortunate affair.

Sometimes it's not laziness, sometimes we suffer from an overly open mind. Call it being pessimistic or whatever you must, eventually it all boils down to... Predicting the future, and making decisions today which we hope shall set us high up with the stars in the future.

Sometimes that's what slows down our day, isn't it? Just before you do what you want to do, you start questioning what's the use of it all? And when you question that, you don't have the motivation, you don't have the urge, you want to quit, try something else right?

And in the end sometimes you find that you tried so many things since you gave up on so many things thinking they weren't meant for you, if you only knew how the future would go, you would have not given up. You would have not wasted your time being a whore jumping from one path to another, you would have selected one and flown with it. And sometimes I try to put myself in the future, and imagine what I would hope I should have done today. And it's also a prediction,you never know for sure, you just hope...

Hope that the decisions you make today, the efforts you put today, will reward in the future. Don't you? Hope?

I guess all that is left in this very volatile world, and on my absolutely unique path is hope. And not just blind hope, blind hope ignores all the signs. It doesn't notice when you need to alter your route a little, blind hope doesn't recognize that you need to do things a little bit differently. I don't want my hope to be that blind, I want to look at the future and make the right calculations on the next move, like on a chess board, you never know what the future is, but somehow, you can predict it, if you take time to plan your moves before you make them.

Come to think of it, life is just like a chess board, for anyone that wants to be king. And when you think about it like that, it's never that serious. Is a chess board game that serious anyways?

Unpredictable future here I come, making the right moves, till check mate, and am king.

What makes it hard is that, for you to cut through the future successfully, you have to predict misfortune awaiting you, but if you just look at the misfortune, you become a pessimist, and luck is allergic to people who are pessimist.

What makes it hard is that, and you can't just decide that you will become a complete optimist, cause sometimes, absolute optimism miss out reality, and reality might screw you over if you don't plan to watch and dodge misfortune in your future. It's like ignoring the tennis ball the tennis ball that's about to hit you in your face on the basis you are optimistic it will duck out of your way instead of you smacking it back to the other court.

Predicting the future is so bloody hard, making the right moves to set yourself with the stars, but I guess, all we got to do is, do the best we can, predict it, hope that the wind blows us to the right direction, hope that after we plant it will rain, and a harvest will happen.

What I know for sure, if we suffer from indecision we will be sure to be screwed over. We will never plant, I might be making a bad decision as I do this, or a good one, but you know what,in the end it is my decision. In the end I tried, in the end I did what I hoped will be good for me.

And when it pays off I will celebrate, and when it doesn't I will not. But through out the journey I will have fun, I will make sure I have fun. Cause at the end, life is just but another game, life is just but another chess board game.

Are you playing or you want to watch others play? Come one, join me, let's play some chess. Bring a bottle of Baileys, bring a couple of hot women to watch us play, play some beautiful music in the background, wear nice pair of shoes, wrap cashmere, wool and linen around yourself, silk shiny maroon ties, let's make this game rock.

Check mate!

What every man wants to hear.

L&L

Every man wants to hear he made the right choice, having you. He wants to hear that he picked the best for himself, and never make him stop believing that. He wants to hear that you are the most beautiful, even if you are not, somehow his friends should tell him that you are the most beautiful. The world must believe she is beautiful, and when he is not convinced that you are beautiful, the world will tell him.

"dude, that mama of yours... Wow"

Every man wants to hear that you didn't go out without him, it is a stroke on everyone's ego when someone loves you so much they will only go out with you. Unless of course the man you are with sees you as a play thing, and you see him as the same. Playing is not as bad, games between sheets and all.

No man wants to hear stories about her lady. Wild at night without him. No man wants to hear that...

"yesterday I met your chic at the club, she is wild, oh my she is wild too bad you weren't there..."

"ah, I know."

Your man would say 'ahh i know' in front of his boys, but that's in front of his boys, cause it's accepted to make fun of your boys even though you are friends. It's the manly thing to do, you put on a brave face then go home and die. Then blow everything out of proportion.

No man wants to hear stories about her lady, that she knows everyone and is friendly with everyone. Everyone wants to hear that everyone tries to be friendly with her but she is friendly with a few. Cause that's how it is, men chase, women accept. Women are wanted men want.

No man wants to see photos of her girl with her ex's. It messes up with his head, men want to hear they are the only one, and that they are first at everything. Men want women that are pure, that's why when men are surrounded by women they are appealing, but when women are surrounded by too many men they are sluts.

But that's a small price to pay, cause pick up lines are sent to women, and not men. We are different, and men chase women select.

Men claim they want to know a woman's history, the numbers and what not. But sometimes that can destroy a man, but it all depends, on whether the man will know. And men will question, when somehow a chic he is with boards matatus for free, and as much as she ignores the conductor, he is persistent in chatting her up like she wasn't a stranger.

Men will bang almost everyone, but rarely will men say this is my girl while it is common knowledge she has been around, cause at the end men need to be cared for, probably that's why they can't cook just right, but we can fight just right.

Men want one thing, women want everything, so men get everything, so that they can get one thing, and when a man wants that one thing every time, even though he doesn't want to accept it's love, most times it is. But men aren't sissy, they can't keep saying the word love all the time, cause men fight, and defend their territory, and they provide, meet the cruel world and fend for themselves and the ones they love.

Just like women don't want to think that her man only wants one thing, men don't like to think women want one thing. Women may make men feel like the only thing they are after is an open wallet, even though that's not what is true. But you know, we make decisions on perceptions. So if it seems that you are after a wallet, then expect him to make a decision about you based on that assumptions. You do make decisions on the assumptions that he is around you for one thing. As much as things are real, make sure he has the right perception of you.

Men want to hear a girl is helpless over them, and that she would let him do anything cause it's him.

Women and men are different, like everyone is different from everyone else. But in the end it's always who you want to be with.

Valentines Dammit!

L&L

"hello"
"morning... Dear"
"you didn't even let the phone ring? You so eager..."
"ah leave me alone, am excited about today."
"women and valentines, so typical."
"sorry, what did you just say?"
"I said am really looking forward to going to the park with you today..."
"no you didn't, you said am so typical..."
"why are you asking me what I said if you heard me babe?"
"you better be out of bed before I get there!"
Line went dead.

For once, I was thoroughly excited I wasn't the one to get out of bed drive for two hours to see babe. It was her time, she would have to wake up at six in the morning, get ready drive for two hours in the morning when radio stations on the car stereo are boring, to see me. I made it a point to sleep really late, like at four, cause I knew I would be sleeping listening to radio on satellite the whole morning as she drove here to see me. I cuddled a nice one, took a deep breath, and let my eyes black out.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Wake up! Wake up... You going to represent me in a meeting in Nairobi?"

"seriously, when?"

"today... Open the door wake up you are late!"

But I heard plans, I wanted to go to the park, have wine, watch birds, lay a shuka on the floor and watch flamingoes and other birds. Yes, bird watching is strongly advertised now at the Game Parks, it's good culture to bird watch with nice cameras or have we porches everything? That's what I wanted to do, chill out at the lodges in the park, take a swim and have lunch overlooking lions and all, eat some exotic meat with cutlery made from shiny metal and napkins and side plates and wine glasses and a beautiful girl smiling at me telling me this was the best valentines. And after it, she was going to be so in the mood.

But what could I say. Sorry, can't attend your meeting, today is valentines and their is a dame I want to be with? It was as good as getting a shovel a casket, and taking a nap six feet under soil. So, valentine plans were in the trash bin, my eyes were sleepy, and I had a very difficult phone call to make. Baby, don't come, we can't do the park today, something came up, so find your own valentine plans.

I wasn't even left to shower in peace, cause I was late, I was so sleepy I almost slept in the bathroom. My shoes were cleaned for me, breakfast was parked, I was given all the support to be out of the house and in Nairobi as soon as possible, I was not to keep the minister waiting.

"You really want to use that car? It hasn't been serviced..."

I had no time for that, engine running, fuel gauge in the toilet. Seven in the morning, driving a car that might not make it to the petrol station without stalling on the way... If this day was to go as planned, I would be in bed, waiting for my dame, then sip wine and baileys at the park. But here I was, doing hours driving tired as hell.

I barely made it to the petrol station, I fueled, and that's when I noticed the wheel. How does one mash a rim? As in the alloy wheel rim had some serious dent on the side, yet the wheel was fully pressured.

In addition to fueling, I had to replace the bloody rim, can you imagine, thanks to some non-driving-licensed relative at home who tries out drifts, and burn outs and other stunts television tells us not to try at home. I should have been in bed, sleeping, waiting to wear shorts and an easy polo shirt, sandals, a camera, ice cubes in a thermos for the baileys under some tree at the park making out. And where was I, at the garage, trying to make sure the wheel changing doesn't soil my shirt cause am to attend a meeting...

Car got fixed, that's what I thought, my sixth sense told me something was a miss, the steering didn't feel as electric as it normally is.

"Babe, am on my way there..."

"where?"

"am coming to Nairobi, am already on the way."

"what about Baileys and ice cubes under a tree in the wilderness? What about feeding monkeys, I thought we were going to carry bananas to feed them? What about pool side lunch and massages at the lodge?"

"Have to attend a meeting or something, don't worry will still have an awesome valentines."

Line went dead. Sincerely, deep in me I didn't believe the day would be great eventually, it started off badly, and had no signs of getting better.

It was a long journey, mostly cause the display on the radio wasn't working, so sometimes I heard a good song and imagined that was Capital fm, x-fm, only to find out it was some station in some language I don't understand with very hopeless presenters. Dt. dobie, why didn't you visit Dt. dobie, baby, why? Your radio would have been fixed, the tires replaced, oh dear car? Why? We should have been in the park with you, and now we are heading to some boring meeting, and babe is not very happy about me doing business during a day we had planned for for a long while.

There were cops at the gate, all blue and looking very authoritative.

"I have come for the meeting..."

"just park outside there, the minister is about to leave."

"huh?"

Tried to force my way in, but you know cops. Parked outside and walked in. And there were so many Chinese, almost too many, it kind of didn't feel like Kenya. A Passat dotted here and there, green SUVs, some very box Land Rovers without tint. And everyone was in suits, ties and all. Black suits, you could tell the camera crew very easily, you could tell the help very easily. They were the ones in suits that weren't dark. You could tell who wasn't who very easily, anyone in a buggy suit trouser, and dame in a blazer that didn't have shoulders that stopped at the shoulder; either stopped after the shoulder or way before. It was perfect, smelled like billions under those tents, only that everyone had formed circles around each other laughing loud and exchanging cards. The plastic white seats were deserted, bottles of half empty Dasani flooded the floor, plus there lid wrappers.

I sat to get my hands to stop shaking, it smelt like power that place. And I felt like it, it was time to get acquainted, my job, my career, my... Depended mostly on the people at that meeting, not the lecturers, they can throw me a bone if am good to them, but these people, wouldn't throw me an S600 Mercedes once I started working, they would throw me a chopper easy. If only she could pick up the phone, at places like these, the drill is, know one person, then act like you know everyone.

Too bad. She didn't pick up the phone, therefore, I couldn't start anywhere, i was all dressed up easy, but I was painfully young.

I left, unaccomplished.

"so village market?"

"yes, am at West lands, should I wait for you we drive together or should I meet you there?"

"meet me there..."

If the swimming pool at the park lodge wasn't going to work, which would have been perfect, cause Valentines Saturday was a really hot dusty day. If it wasn't going to happen, shopping was. You go to Sankara, roof top lounge, and you go home after. You go to village market, sit under the tents, eat, and go for shopping after. You know why? Cause Sankara has glass floors running from first to last. Sankara has a gym better carpeted than most homes, Sankara has a swimming pool that has a glass floor that can be admired all the way from Sarit Center.

"five minutes, I will be there..."

"hello, you know am already here waiting..."

"Sorry, jam."

I knew it would take fifteen minutes, cause I was going to fly. And that was when it happened. The car started feeling like it was straining to go up the slopes. Hey, sweetheart, you have Airbags and all, you do a maximum of 240km per hour, we didn't buy you at a car bazaar, we bought you at dt. Dobie, not new reconditioned, new new, it has been ten years or so, but you are a strong car, what is this you are trying to pull? Showing me that you are sweating going up a slope.

Off. Right at a hill, and guys behind me didn't give their honks a break. Guys overtook throwing hands at me, but the windows were tinted heavy, they didn't see me, that made them more daring at their insults.

Move, come on, move. Has your car ever stalled in jam?

Am trying to change gears, press the clutch, my phone is ringing relentlessly, I hate the ringtone, I hate that I am late, I hate that the car is not moving, I hate that I am not driving leisurely in the park stopping by the lake to make out and make up for the time we have been apart overlooking the lake with the flamingoes and all. I hate I am stuck at a hill, and I have to call a dame who has been waiting for me to come rescue me.

I begged the car, I was rough with it, banging the dash board and all. Smashing the Aircon, particularly smashing the LCD screen that kept on telling me Welcome! while the car can't move. Well come to where? Hell? Smashed the screen.

Slowly, my anger evaporated, and I started to think straight. That's why you should never shop with emotion, break up with emotion, dial with emotion, wait for things to settle down, cool out, then talk, unless it is positive emotion.

"hello, babe it wouldn't be useful if you came here, cause even though I decided to open the engine, it would just be to show off I am such a guy, while in fact I don't know jack... Do this, try to get a mechanic or a tow truck."

"okay. Will do that, bye."

I felt nice after being so rational. And that's when the car started, went up the slopes, sweating, it was a roller coster to the Car Bazzar babe had found for me. One moment you will be so hopeful, then you would feel some drag in the acceleration, then you would know, anytime now, off. But then it didn't, and when you thought you were okay,it would go off. I was exhausted driving that thing.

She looked beautiful, in a fawn light shine comfortable dress. Pink earrings that form the perfect couple with the brown dress. She had a stripped hang bag that looked like Paris. Her car felt cooler than mine did inside. The tint?

We kissed, we didn't care what mechanics were there, I grabbed her a decent one, cause even though you don't care what people think, man isn't an island.

At first glance, I knew the mechanic was more a sales person than a mechanic, cause technically, that was a car bazaar. Oh, if they only knew I was going to try to repair the car at a place where they don't leave tags on the wiper knobs written Dt. dobie, next service after 1000km...but what option did I have?

He didn't do a thing, he just opened the bonnet, and closed it; if you asked me.

Next garage was right behind Village Market. First of all, Audi, the SUV, parked next to a convertible, CLK, the small cars had red number plates, vintage cars everywhere. How did such a place pull such high-end clients? The mechanic wore a pair of navy blue Dockers. Exactly what I was wearing. And just like that I knew how those cars were there. Tatooed, half Indian, half something else in vest and greasy apron, accelerating the Audi, listening to the engine.

The other guys, mechanics, talked in Kikuyu, and they trashed talked the Indian kid in nice trousers. And that's how I knew he was the owner, or something close to that. Every time he walked close to my car, the mechanics who were working on it lamented in kikuyu, that he was going to spoil their work. They called him Ka-wire, I think it had to do with his hair.

I felt for him, can't imagine being gossiped about while I stand there not knowing what everyone is saying. But, I guess, the fact that somehow, where he schooled, his pops or mom, his friends and what not, somehow got him good business like that. I bet when he was done with school, he decided he loved vintage cars, and when you come from successful bloodlines, you can pull such useless stunts, like turn into a mechanic yet drive nice, wear nice pants, play with grease as well as play with engine parts belonging to dignitaries. And be lousy at it. Or wasn't he?

"hello..."

"is the car fixed?"

"not yet, babe, but will be done in a bit..."

They didn't fix it. They were not able to identify the problem, but claimed that the clutch need to be replaced. Know why you shouldn't import a rare car model? Cause when the clutch gets spoilt, you have to import parts. And sometimes it is Valentines day when your car breaks down, and you leave your dame at village market cause if she was with you she will spend all her time looking at you with eyes for hurry-up, and you don't need that pressure, especially when a pool is not nearby. Especially when you aren't sipping ice cubes in Baileys at the park in shorts making out under a shade.

I drove back to the car bazaar I was at before, parked under a tree, decided I will walk to village market, eat, then think about how I was going to solve issues.

My lamp chops were nothing but tender, her chicken was, we exchanged plates. She is such a dame, she is such a darling. They say tears on nice seats, sadness over nice food isn't as bad. It wasn't, I was anxious most of the time. She kept asking how the car was, but I didn't want to discuss it. Was wondering whether she would mind my not taking her round the shops picking whatever she liked for valentines, but, I had a car that might require repair. So... Am just glad she didn't insist we shop. Sometimes you wonder, minus the shopping would things be the same? Minus cars? Minus those things you know? Would things be the same? Or would she get angry and leave? Draw away slowly? Would she...

And the meal was nice, though I was just sad cause I was mostly hungry. A hungry man, an angry man. The coke was nice, the ice cubes were nice. The mood was awesome, everyone was happy, and it was starting to rub on me. She sat there observing me more than anything else, we had fun. We had started having fun...

"hello..."

"why are you calling me, you got a clutch?"

"no, an avocado fell off the tree and broke your windscreen?"

"what?"

"if I had the keys I would have moved it...you know you parked under a tree."

Bill, walked out, she held my hand, we didn't talk, but that helped. The hand thing. People stared, but my mind was far. It didn't notice, the second look everyone gave us.

We drove in her car to the car bazaar, didn't feel like it was appropriate to kiss, I just wanted to see the windscreen, hoping he was joking. But could he have been joking?

It looked like he was, cause from a far it looked okay but it wasn't, it was the tint film that held it together. One pot hole and it would all break down like a dropped egg.

"oh my..."

You know, you think somethings, they are ridiculous, you don't want to say them cause it might convince the other person. The theory that, if you hesitate removing your clothes. The other person will also start questioning and it will be you who caused her to hesitate. I couldn't keep it to myself cause...

I was supposed to be at the park, I was supposed to be eating at a raised bar that overlooked wild animals, the best waiters and chefs were there, I was supposed to be eating some rare meat somewhere relaxed, and I had a non functioning car, windscreen broken by a fruit that fell on it, how random is that? Isn't that simply bad luck?

"babe, every time we are together bad things happen..."

"Don't say that"

"no, it's true, remember before Limuru, remember Nyali..."

"So what are you trying to say?" she snapped.

We stood there, looking at the car like we hadn't already seen enough of the disfigured windscreen. I didn't know what next, she was trying to hug me, I was making it difficult for her, the car bazaar watchman wanted to lock up the place, so we had to move the car. It was Happy Valentines dammit, right in my face, Happy Valentines!

The day had just begun... (until my next post)

A Step Ahead.

L&L

It was last year when we met. I remember you in your Land Rover, I remember me in a Mercedes. I remember us at that car wash in Hurlingam. I remember me thinking, you were to young to drive, I admit I was excited when I found out you had a drivers license, cause then that meant you were over eighteen, that was important cause I wanted you from then. I remember you asking me for my BBM pin, I remembered the way you talked, and I felt a little heart broken cause I thought you might not just be a student in Kenya.

But the sun came up, we have been together for almost a year now. We have been to places with chimneys, we have been to cold places like Limuru, nice hotels, we have been in hot places, white beaches. We have been hot and cold, but we have always been together.

Slow down baby, I really need you to hear this. When the sun comes up, and am not by your side be strong, when the stars flood the skies and am not around you don't forget me, cause you remember the first time. Our love has been so pure, so if am not besides you baby, when you call me and it goes to voice mail, it doesn't mean that my heart isn't with you, wherever I am I am thinking about you. So don't worry, don't let a tear drop, don't get feisty, cause am thinking about you, and am the dress you wear, am the watch you wear, I am the feeling you feel in your heart.

I love the way you make me feel and if you are an angel I am sort of a reflection of you. I say that loosely though cause you know I am the most defined person you have ever met. I just want to say I love you. I know you watched time pass by without being able to connect to me. I spent hours standing outside my door baby, someone had my keys and treated me badly, and I was getting late to travel, I hadn't packed and it was a few minutes before the bus left. So, I wasn't able to charge my phone, if I had been able we would talk the whole way on the bus. But I got to the house late babe, and I didn't charge it. I wish I talked to you during those eight hours, you know eight hours dont just pass by without us talking.

And I wanted to write you something princess, but I just couldn't. I kind of got the seats in the bus that are supposedly VIP. You know the large leather ones, but problem is the driver was a little bitch about something to do with the light on my iPad disrupting his driving, so I just had to think about you and not be able to tell you I was thinking about you since my stupid phone was off, and the bitchy driver was just that.

I wish I took a flight, I must take a flight next time. I can't stand those hours again, never! Never ever... Premier Business World is not what they think it is.

I got home and I was so tired I almost got into bed with my shoes. And honey did I sleep. I wanted to plug my phone, give you a call, but the logistics involved in that, too much. But I dreamed about you, remember the little chat we had, it was so sexually charged. I thought it was important that even though my eyes were swollen with sleep, I had to hear from you.

The next morning I woke up way after the sun. I feel bad I missed church, doesn't do good since I want to go back to being an angel. I would even start wearing sheer white and gold, and be so selfless a golden halo would form at the top of my head. But I missed that...

Went for shopping, did I tell you I hadn't plugged my phone. Did I tell you I didn't fly here I took a bus? Buses have jet lag when you are in them for eight hours, forty minutes in the air has none, and if I flew we would have talked together on end, and you would have been early to pick me from the airport that I am sure about more than you are sure about.

I don't want you to forget me, I saw the photos you sent me, you crossing some two island on a string bridge. Your pops must really love you, I kind of noticed every Sunday he takes time to make you happy. I had dinner with family too, was a little too tired to talk to much during, but I managed some laughter, did I tell you I was tired.

Went to the shop and saw our ex-driver. He is the devil, I wish he rot in hell, such things make it hard for me to be an angel... I guess when I updated about that you freaked out, cause you know how much he messed our family. Be strong Bobby, I tell myself, but I can't, but when you touch me at that time, you are the voice of reason, and I stop to roar, and be calm. You are such a woman, as I am such a man.

I am okay, I am fine, I had prawns and squid today. That white stuff, you also have issues with white stuff... I don't know, something to do with me putting white food in my mouth, and you having to swallow white stuff...

All in all babe, I just wish you would know, that sometimes my life gets really complicated, and you might feel like you are going to voice mail too often, but remember love, that where you are I am right there next to you, even now as you cover yourself under that soft blanket that still has my touch, my thoughts are for you, about you, and are with you.

Don't forget me my love, don't forget me, I never forget you my love, I never do. We will be together soon my love, valentines is close, and we will be with wine glasses and fish fingers, in the wilderness, in the  wilderness.

Don't let a little silence make you leave, don't let a little silence make us take a step behind. We have always been a step ahead, we are us. Be with me, no matter what, I have been with you no matter what.

Glamorized Crime

Her skin is light. Her hair was short. But after high school it turned long. My interest in her grew two-folds after that. I felt my urge for her already risen when I saw her. I was eager.

We met, she disappointed me in here in-responsiveness. But I don't blame her, I bet it's revenge. Through primary school, she had an eye for me, watched me exchange other girls. During high school, she still had the hots for me, she passed notes to me, and I passed them back more out of courtesy, acknowledging she had noticed me. I was a teenage. Understand.

She was fly, I kid you not, but today she is flier than ever. The hair thing. Plus, make up, a light touch; an accessory to her clothes, an era where matching eyes with clothes. Cosmetic contact lenses and what not...

It was another day. It was just but another text. We had started talking again, cause I had started building a strict line on who my friends are and who my friends with benefits were. She was just a friend, cause she was sore and mean for some reason. I think she liked me, but she had some resentment that bottled up in her over the years it had accumulated high pressure.

Once again we were out, sipping something something. She walked in, she wasn't surprised to see me, cause I think she was following me. Something to do with me updating my location on social media.

She checked in. I checked her out. I was a gentleman, stood up, gave her a thorough hug and a little lift. I was with my friends, all guys, two guys. They took Tuskers like real men, I took BlackIce cause I would rather eat piss that take such awfully tasting beer. 

"Hey, you know them Bobby?"

"yeah..."

"why don't we go join them?"

"absolutely not."

"why? They aren't fly or something?"

"no, we will ask them to come here...not us going there."

I grabbed the waiter. The other grabbed extra seats. And the last grabbed the girls. We sat together.

We laughed fake ones. Tried to introduce each other in humorous ways. Some of them clicked together, some of them sparked, some didn't but it was a lovely night. The music was as tight as the skirts, and the emptier the bottles become, the lower everyones standards went. Another round Mr. waiter.

"We are leaving tomorrow morning you know Bobby?"

She was being touchy and friendly.

I paid the cab guy. We walked into my house. She did the lap women make when you get them to the house. First of all, check out where the music is from. If movie parts have a sound track when people kiss, why shouldn't I? That's why I always leave the music on and light every time I know it might be a lucky night.

"You stay here alone?"

"yeah."

"you should get a girlfriend..."

I wasn't girlfriend material yet. So... She sat down. I wish I had wine. I didn't sit on the sofa she was on. But something about her posture made me stand up. She was a bit lose; as in she was sloppily seated. I planted a kiss on her. She was eager.

We played some more, but things weren't going where I wanted them to. First of all, her friends weren't letting her phone not ring. Every time, they interrupted. They wanted to know where she was? Where she had gone, when she would come back.

And I had to go through the whole cooking process again until she was hot. The next time she was hot, she wanted to leave, it suddenly become late. 

We moved from siting room to bedroom, sitting room to bedroom, doing everything that leads to you know what but nothing but you know what.

I wore the jacket, she was flat. I thought it would show the urgency. It didn't. I could feel my frustration. 

It got off.

She kissed me. She held me. She told me I needed to make her my girlfriend in very vague ways, but I wasn't in the mood. 

I thought she had forgotten about that after a while, cause she was the eager one. 

I wore a jacket again. Her dress had been rolled up by the bed a couple notches high. The lights were off, but I saw. 

She pulled it off, and hurt me in the process. Threw it in the dust bin. 

I got upset. I sat in bed. She came to bother me again. I made her hot. When it was time, she pushed me away. 

I stood up, remembered Barney in 'How I met your mother' the series. I pulled the naked man. Do you know what a naked man is? Apparently you can't fight with a naked person. They will ask you to put your clothes on or something. 

So I stood there with my birthday suit; with another jacket. She had gone to get water, she walked in. She almost chocked. 

"Haiya, we go..."

I just stood there. She started being nice. Only that her plan was to get jimmy off his jacket. She knew I wouldn't if I didn't have my jacket on. So she wasn't trying to be away from Jimmy, that would be too much work. She just took away Jimmy's Jacket off. She knew with the jacket off Jimmy would be away.

She was dressed, I wasn't. The naked man worked. Though all she did was seat on that coach and ate. Nothing more.

Her phone kept on ringing, her friends kept on interrupting. She had to go back to the club.

As we took the cab back, in her eyes, I noticed. She had a coldness even though her smile was genuine.

"Am a bad girl aren't I Bobby?"

And I though of her endlessly after she left. She treats me like trash, her idea of getting into my heart is breaking it. If when you are in love you can't help it but think of a person the whole day and that makes you love her more. Tell me, what happens when a hot stranger comes and randomly slaps you? You think about them the whole day, and thinking about them is opening your heart to them, hating them. Then the next day the slapping-stranger comes to you and gives you all the affection she has. Suddenly, she becomes different from everyone else. She becomes interesting than all other girls.

If I wanted to have her I would, I would say cruel true things to her, and even though she doesn't listen, they will affect her, I could tell her she looks lovely for seven days, dramatize my compliments to her, even stand on top of a desk and declare her the most beautiful, and on the eight day I will tell her she looks horrible, and from that day onwards she would look for my approval. I could be mean to beautiful girls, cause when you are mean to most of them (not all), they think you are too good for them, and they feel like when you are too good for them, they are getting more out of the relationship than you are. Women say men are accessories. He reflects good on you? Such a moon reflecting the star sun.

But I will not. I have been corrupted by my reading. You say whatever they run on news is Raising Awareness, but you know, it is advertising crime. When you make being a Bad Boy look glamorous what do you expect people will do? 

Show no respect for women, but make sure people see them flock all over you? Show a politician who steals, then show him living in a palace with twenty BMW all of the same model cause he is filthy dirty stinking rich. Don't you think people will look at the stealing as a good thing?

We have totally disregarded morals... We are now making our own rules as we go right? And we aren't thinking in the long run. So, let's all write magazine articles showing all men that the bad boy wins, let the same articles be read by women so that they think it is cool to date the bad boy, don't believe what am saying? People are too discerning to be influenced? What happened to birds of a feather flock together? Your friends influence you? Hear no evil see no evil do no evil? 

I will swim up stream if that's what it takes. The bad boy gets it all, walks over everyone and everything like a bulldozer to get everything and everyone. But that is not the only path. That's what everyone thinks is the only path, until Bill Gates becomes the richest man in the world without stealing. I used to glide through life like an angel, like a good boy, when I was flirting I complimented, now I trash women, tell them their hair would look better this way, they don't know how to kiss. I ignore them...am done with that. Why? Cause good is right, and if I have to be more patient to get things the right way I will. Am swimming upstream, against all the bad. We aim for the same things, different paths, but the same thing, but I want my path to be pure, even though everyone thinks that the end justifies the means. My means must be impressive, to the angels and me, I want to be an angel like I was, charm with good and not with evil, like I did when I was a tween. I was an angel during my tween-hood, that is the real me.

If people were too discerning to be influenced how then is advertising one of the biggest industry? If showing pictures of bad behavior and immediately showing pictures of glamourous rewards cause of the bad behavior, how is that not advertising?

We are making up laws, we are disregarding morals. Even the very basic ones, let's see how many bad boys it will take to destroy the most important thing. The future of our children. The kid grows up watching parents fight and parents bringing other people to the house. Spending more on thongs and cosmetic boob-jobs then leaving her kid without diapers and food. Yes, let's glamorize crime, that is the way to go. NkT!