Browse Author

Lewis Martin

Officially 29

If at all shit had gone according to plan, I would have been in Kisumu over the weekend. But no, it never did. With me, things can fail to go to plan any minute. Before I get to the destination, my presence there is not guaranteed. I can go cold turkey on anyone or anything at any time. I do it often.

Only fools don’t change their minds and I ain’t no fool.

I had called my mum and told her, “I am looking to come this weekend, though I am not sure.”

“Well, just do what you want.” See, my mum is just like me. Or is it the other way round? “If you in the moods come, if not then just let it go.”

Well, I had been in the mood until she told me I have an option. I started looking for reasons not to go. In that very point, the roommate asks me, “I heard you say you will be traveling.”

“Yeah, but now I am not sure,” I said

“You don’t have to. Kwanza hii si weather ya kutravel.” She said

Ladies and gentlemen, nobody wanted me to travel. So I dropped it.

Yet again, on that very weekend, if at all shit had gone according to the next plan, I would have been at the Tuskys BuruBuru having some stupid lunch with a chick. She decided to stay off the whole day.

Ohh boy wasn’t that a good one! Me being stood up. Imagine missing traveling home only to be stood up by a bitch. I am used to being stood up though. I have been stood up before. It seems I do allow them much time to realize they are too good for me.

Most times I feel sore when stood up. Everybody does. But on this fateful day, I was lucky someone went missing on me, coz now I am at a café with a beauty I am meeting for the first time.

A peek in the mirror at the top of the table we occupying, you would notice the wavy front part of her hair dyed golden, giving blackout to the rest of the laid back dark parts. She moves her hand, and for the first time, I notice the slim silver watch she has on. At this moment she is hysterically reacting to something I have just uttered. She has been howling with laughter most of the time.

I suppose I should tell you how we got here.

The other day my guy called me informing me that he had given some bird documents I should be picking for him. “Man I am busy,” I said in a bid to be convinced more. It’s something I just do. “You know I won’t find time to get to her.”

“You definitely will.” He said. “You know what else you can do apart from picking the documents. In fact, that’s why am sending her to you.”

I was surprised coz my guy had outlawed me from getting new catches. In fact, he had threatened to tell any lady I brought around, that I was happily dating. But here he is setting me up for a goddamn date. He thought that only one person is right for me.

Anyway, I said yeah without divulging into that. When your guy gets you shit, just know it’s real.

“In the meantime, I doubt if you will like her that much.” He said

“What do you mean?”

“We both know that you can barely stand anything without boobs.” He was chuckling, “Though the figure compensates for any loss.”

Today I don’t want to talk about boobs. I am not in the moods. I don’t want to talk about the things they do to me. I will just brush over it. Okay, boobs kill me. They sure do. Those are sacred stuff and I can only talk about them when I am well in the moods.

Well, here we are at the cafe grazing on some fries and soda, the entire good figure, pretty face and all cracking at my jokes.

She has a white dress with black flowery spots, allowing a good view of the good pair of legs, her skin the color of coffee, she has a little scar on the forehead. She got it from a bus accident in high school. You would think scars made people look a little scary. No, this was different. It looked so damn fascinating.  It made her look even prettier. I would look at it intensely in the mirror than I would when I looked over the tip of her glasses.

We talked for long. Way past the time we had anticipated. I enjoyed the time we were together. We parted ways and said we should do that often. I was looking forward to it. I really was. I wanted to see her again. And again. And again. Do you get what I am saying?

Later, from my usual weekend drinking sprees, I gave my boy a buzz.

“How did it go.” He asked.

“What has she said?” I reverted. I don’t know why I like answering questions using other questions.

“She said you are handsome, though young.”

These are a set of words I am used to hearing. I just didn’t believe they were from her. I was concerned with the young part. We talked some more with my guy trying to analyze the meaning of that review. Until we agreed I talk to her.

I gave her a buzz. We talked for some time. I ran out of airtime. We reverted to WhatsApp. Drunk as I was, I felt excited that I could at least get my spellings right.

You are lucky if I ever drunk call you. I only do that shit if I like you hella lot.

“I want to ask you something, can I?” she texts almost immediately. I knew what was coming. Just wasn’t ready to face it.

“Allow me to ask you a question first.” I reverted.

“You have to answer this first.”

I gave the green light.

“How old are you?” I was still giving it a thought when she adds, “be sincere.”

It’s obvious that I was going to be nothing but sincere if I answered. My only problem was the question itself.

Guys we have talked about age before. I gave you a lot of shit about how I don’t give a fuck about age and all. I thought we were done. But you guys never felt the same. You felt that I should find some young lass and settle with. That might be what seems right, I accept. But somehow right just doesn’t happen to me. I keep attracting older people. I never plan these things. They just happen. Maybe it’s an abnormality with me. I don’t know.

Anyway, after some rounds of dodging I tell her, “I am turning 12; I just act way out of my age.”

Yeah, somehow I think it’s true. I act way out of my age. Several people think am 26. At times I have passed for 30 (a nightclub). Personally, she thought am 24. How wrong can people get?

“Get serious.” That was her telling me to cut the crap. At least she was not like these other dumb blocks I am used to in my contacts. Most people I talk to are dumb. I can get away with several dumb answers. I am also dumb as fuck.  Barely 3 people in my contact list aren’t dumb. Plus this, now 4.

“It’s me you want na unanijibu hivo. Do you think it will work for you?” Ohh boy wasn’t she riled up!

“I am just trying to be me right now. I don’t know how to be serious.” I said.

We went through some more messages until we got to another pothole on the road, “Are you ready to settle? You look very young, you have like 10 more years with different girlfriends to finally settle”

I said yes. For settling. It cracks me up when I think about it.

The thing is whatever she asked me I was set to say yes. Even you could have said yes. Every time I remembered her cute legs. I wanted to scream yes. How I wanted to meet her again. And Again. And again. I was going to say yes.

She would ask me to have a pencil in my eardrum and a finger in my throat at the same time. I would say yes.

So guys listen, let’s forget all this crap about having breathed the air of the earth for almost 23 years now.

I am officially 29.

Si 29 sounds better than those other years? It looks like a resting place in the growing age where you rest and take one last look at your life and vividly see you now want to settle. By that time one has faced all the shitty talks from parents, relatives and friends alike on the need to get married.

Ladies my type out here want serious people who are ready to settle. I am now that guy.

So what do 29-year-old guys do in their pastime? Do they drink from Thursdays to Mondays? I want to learn the craft of being 29 years old. I want to speak like they do. Think like they do. Though I hope people still don’t go to church at that age.

But definitely, a 29-year-old wouldn’t ask her mum whether to travel or not.

Are they already losing hair from the middle parts of their heads? That shit’s ugly as hell.

Or guys, just get me a manual on how to be a great 29-year-old.

In the meantime, I have sent her this. For the past 24 hours, I have been waiting for her to be online to see it as I wait for my fate. Maybe that might help build my case.

I only did that when she refused all my advances at meeting one on one again. I know how to handle stuff one on one. But guys I told you she isn’t dumb.

New Lewis Martin birthday update; 01/01/1989.

THE INTERVIEW

8-4-4

I am not yet done with the last four. I still have some FAILS I need to sort. If you thought I am a genius… Definitely nobody thought that. You all know am stupid. I will stop at that.

It feels good not having cleared school. You got an excuse for not having a job. Being ever broke. Sleeping the whole day. Never contributing in buying alcohol (I do at times) when you go out. Visiting people empty handed.

But some people don’t just get it. They can’t let a man have his time. They are trying to push me to the corporate world. I hate the corporate world. Not exactly, I hate offices. They come with rules. I hate rules. People take pictures of themselves sitting in posh office seats, to boast on social media. To make us losers have ulcers. You already know every time a friend succeeds, I die inside. Offices will be the cause of my death.

The cleanliness, daily good looks, and smartness are not my optimum environment. I prosper in a mess. Messes turns me on.

I prefer waking up late, stay in my boxers or sweat pants, as I repeatedly poke my keyboard to get some coins. Get sorted on the spot. Go drink till the cash is drained. Repeat.

These guys don’t think I work. They think I just stare at my computer the whole day without doing anything constructive. They are right majority of the time. They think I am wasting away. I got wasted ages ago. Now after some good talks, mostly proverbs, I am doing what any other guy who clears the last four does. Si you know what.

I have got two interviews at the same time. I don’t know which one to attend. Do I let go of both or just not honour either? Makes sense, right?

I hate interviews. People lie in interviews. This piece today is full of hate. I hate to confess that. Maybe just a little…of hate. I hate lying. I never lie. I am poor at it.

Be sure that for almost a year now I have never lied to you here. Everything I tell you here is the truth. You can go back and review. Do your due diligence. I cannot tell you that “I won’t lie to you” then go ahead and lie anyway. I value the relationship we are trying to build here. Our relationship won’t be built on lies. I also appreciate your truth. Those who find my work sounding like a composition. Or unreadable. Boring should also be here. Keep them feedback coming.

If this too tastes like dog poop served with puke being inserted in your throat. You can skip the rest and get me in inbox. Or just skip the whole thing from 8-4-4 and return next week. I promise to be better.

If you keep to this journey then you will take me through the hate journey. By the end you might hate yourself for wasting minutes of your life.

Shitty Fact; You never know the amount of potential you harbor in you till the power of hate takes control.

Hate stops here.

I settled on the interview to attend. I was liking the idea of the C word.

I had been sitting at the reception of Parklands Sports Club for almost an hour. The place looks heavenly with a set of two chairs and a hard wood table on either side of the entry. The door on the right leads to the sportswear and clothe shop. On the left to the offices, while straight ahead a security point leading to the lobby.

I was checking out some kid membership brochure when a familiar voice gets to me, “Hey, you are Lewis, right?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Then turns to the guy on the other side and confirm, “And you are (not Lewis).”

I had spent a good time weighing the possibility of this guy being my competition. If at all he was, then I had no business sitting there. We are all taught to believe we are the best. That we have the best bodies made of precision out here. That we must believe we are the best thing that any human seed can form. We are a gift to the other mankind. Do you now see why I hate motivational speaking?

Those things can make you think all you need is passion, and a little work and just like that, you are headed to becoming a billionaire. Or does it work that way? I don’t know. I have no passion to follow. Neither do I know how to work hard.

Well, the guy looked better than me in several ways. We can face the truth. He had a fine suit on. I was also suited up. Only that he looked like he is used to it. I am used to looking like a homeless drug addict. He looked weightier. He looked like someone who knew the weights. It was like pitting Kevin Hart against Idris Elba in the game of vertical heights.

That got me happy and sad at the same time.

Happy because I was sure we couldn’t be going for the same position. You don’t look all that good only to tussle for a position with me. You will be losing in life.

Sad; if my fears were true, I had to subject the substance between my ears to extra use. You all know I don’t like doing that. I hate thinking. I hate putting my brain to work. I experience brain freeze most of the times. I use my brain sparingly. Some generation is coming that will need it.

“Let’s go to the other side.” Madam familiar voice says pointing to the lobby.

Everyone goes through the security. She inserts her card on an ATM like machine. She is a member. I put my phone on the security tray then move to pass through. “Put even the bag!” One of the security gets me back.

I take a step back. Place my bag. I start walking ahead.  “Put everything in!” He retorts in a speaker loud voice. Eyes around  concluded stuffs about me.

I put my card holder. It has several cards. Though I only carry it for the ID.

By the time I was done, she had already got her card back and probably wondering the village I am from. I felt like telling her that it happens to me at the airport as well. I am always in a hurry to cross. I am used to moving fast. More like I am always fleeing something.

You guys came early.” She says immediately I was done embarrassing myself.

Bitch you came late, we have been waiting.” My mind was screaming that, while my mouth could only afford a chuckle.

“I will start with you Lewis.” Then turns to our not-Lewis, “let me finish with him, I get to you.” I was deeply hoping it was not a classical case of save the best for last.

We sat under a dining shade. I placed my hands at the brown edges of the table surrounded with six seats. We were occupying the space directly opposite, facing each other. Our luggage put on the respective seats such that, a bag faces a purse, a cutie faces a hunky and empty stuff as well.

So tell me about yourself.” She asked snapping my attention off the wet patches of her brown jacket.

I should have told you that she had excused herself to the washroom. The wet patches on the jacket explained. I also should have told you that she was wearing black pants, that I won’t describe how nice they look. That we talked some times on the phone. Familiar voice explained. I should have told you a lot other things but I won’t. I have forgotten. I can’t recall her face. I don’t recall her voice. But be assured I recall whatever I will tell you here. I know you believe me. Because I won’t lie to you.

Back to whom I am.

Let’s pretend that you don’t know me already. I am Lewis; I don’t give a fuck about a lot of things. I am lazy. I don’t give a fuck is my unwritten motto. I have a record of leaving jobs without notice.

Obviously that only belongs in my mind. Or maybe if I share with you here like I have done.

I gave a good account of what I hoped Lewis was. Or what would give an impression I imagine they would want.

What do you know about the organization?

I have never doubted the wit of my pal Google, not even a dime, and for that he is always more than generous to get me good info. Be assured I aced that.

Across me she was beaming with a smile. I took it as a show of getting impressed.

Do you have any questions for me?” she asked perusing through the papers she had as if to look for more questions.

Yeah. Several. Mostly personal.” I thought. But yet again, my mouth and brain were not coordinating well. So I asked the simple things normal people get from the internet or boring people would ask.

Then some little more talk on the organization and stuff.

What’s your age? You haven’t indicated it here.” She asked darting her eye across the personal profile on my CV.

Does it have any bearing here? Or do you guys have some restrictions.” I asked hoping she would say that she was asking for personal reasons.

No restrictions really. We need to have details about people we work with.

“Well, I am (insert any random old age.)”

She burst a little, “You are such a kid!”

I am turning (insert random older age) soon.

Nuh you are still such a kid.” She insisted amid little laughter.

Just like that we were done. Maybe interviews are not that akin to twinge after all.

Okay, that’s all I remember from the interview. Every part left out is not intentional. I also told them to have a look at this site before making their final decisions.

Do you think this piece might deny me a place over there? I trashed the post on 101 facts about me when I allowed some people to take a background check on me. That’s how careless I can get.

How could I forget this? She repeatedly said that it’s fun working in their organization.

Let me get to updating my CV. In the meantime, you all see why I shouldn’t be going to work. I am still a kid.

No Other Pain Like a Mother’s

By Tracy Achieng

I am not much of a storyteller; I’m more of a reality escapist. My mind more often than not drifts into a safe zone where we live in a perfect universe, and all our hearts desires are possible. I know this does not exist because when my niece was born, my mama said ‘welcome to the cruel world’ more than once. My sister and I thought it was funny that she thought to say it more than once, but thinking about it now, I don’t think she thought about it. I know it just slipped out of her mouth.

 

A month has not passed since we celebrated our mothers with paragraphs and paragraphs of heartfelt messages that were probably downloaded or just written without thought. You know, the cliché, ‘a mother does not only carry you for nine months in her womb but forever in her heart’ quotes. Don’t get me wrong, I am not against it, it’s your world, and I am just living in it.

 

I don’t know what motherhood is to you; I thought I knew it all until I had to accompany my sister to maternity. I thought I knew what it meant when the good Lord said, ‘I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with the pain, you shall give birth to children’. I thought I knew what to expect when we parked and left the house for the hospital.

 

I was wrong.

 

Guess what, even after the whole experience I had with my sister, I still don’t know. Public hospitals are shit holes, we all know that but I don’t think you know how deep the pit goes in maternity wards and just the same way a choir cannot learn by listening, you too cannot but I’ll be singing anyway.

 

The beginning was easy, all I had to do was be patient and chatty, both of which I have learned to score straight As at when need be. Nurses just like in any other public institution in this country were serving people based on ‘kujuana’, and even in as much I couldn’t take it, I had to bite the bullet because who wants to create a scene in a hospital? Finally, it was our turn, my boiling blood cooled back to room temperature. Once admitted, however, I wished the nurses had cut the line some more because now I did not want to leave.

 

The ward is set up such that three women share a single bed until labor elevates and you are moved to another section for close supervision. On arrival, the majority of the women were at the latent phase of their labor, conjuring a little chat over a plate of white cabbages and ugali.  One of the women suddenly launches complaints about the lack of salt on the food. Then another jokingly replies, ‘Na hii pressure iko hapa, hawaezi weka chumvi’

 

Moments after my sister settled in, the security guards come in to get all visitors out. I kept asking my sister unnecessary questions. More so if she’s comfortable or thirsty like I could change any of it. I only left after assurance of her being well and the prospect of being embarrassed by the guards.

 

You can imagine my displeasure when I returned in the evening only to find my sister the exact spot and condition I left her; uncomfortable and thirsty.

 

I could only solve the thirst. The discomfort was caused by one of the women, a girl of about seventeen stretching from the pain forcing my sister and the other woman to be cramped up at one corner of the bed. This girl was sweating and groaning from pain and her mother kept calling the nurse on duty who kept saying she’s coming, but she never did. This went on for about an hour, and the nurse finally checked out at seven without attending to this girl. How cold can humans get!

 

Among the new team who had just got on duty, there was a tall, handsome doctor with full beards and fluent Kiswahili to foot, who the girl’s mother approached. He came over alright,

 

Umewahi fanyiwa upasuaji kabla ya leo?’

 

In my mind I was like, from the look of things, it’s obviously her first time here.

 

Hajawai fanyiwa upasuaji’ the mother answered

 

The doc in a sarcastic voice asks the mum, ‘Basi shida iko wapi? Kama ni uchungu, acha iongezeke ajifungue, ama wewe unaonaje?’

 

My mind was having none of it, in my head I was like, “dude what is so hard in doing a quick check up to see if everything is fine, aren’t you here for the service of these women after all?”

 

So bad he was also not a mind reader, so he walks back to his station and even before he gets there, this girl’s mum opens up her daughter’s dress, and I kid you not, I see a child. Yes! You heard me right, this girl delivers on her own in a hospital without the help of the caregivers, and I am in utter shook. I scream in shock and walk out, drawing attention and people from the waiting area rush to see what’s up.

 

I feel tears rolling down my checks, a lot is going through my mind; I am starting to blame myself for even bringing my sister here in the first place and how such a smoking hot dude could be so cruel and careless, (like looks matter) and did I just see a newborn child just now? And why are they so white? Then I remember I did not hear the child cry, so I rush back in. The bed has been sealed off and people were complaining to the nurse in charge.

 

She rudely says, ‘its okay, a child has been born, and that is what you are here for anyway’

 

“No, not like that!” I am almost yelling.

 

The security guards walk in and cut short this whole fracas by sending visitors out. I walk home muttering to myself how I have to move my sister out of that hospital tears rolling down my checks, wondering where we went wrong as a country.

 

The next day was less eventful; my sister got induced before I could move her, in the evening the pain increased. I did not want to leave her alone, but then again I did not want to be there when the pain got worse, I was scared. So I hid behind the curtains that were beside the beds, sat next to her and puffed up my trench coat, so it looked like I was also pregnant. This act worked until 8.30PM when suddenly from nowhere a woman started screaming. She ran from the nurses’ station and fell intentionally on the alley separating the latent phase section and the active phase section. She was crying so bitterly like she was in a funeral. Everyone was now watching her; one of the nurses was calling her by name, telling her to get off the floor.

 

She was repeatedly cursing, ‘Siku ya mwisho, Mungu mbona umekubali akufe siku ya mwisho!’

 

And I thought her daughter’s child had died because she seemed older and when I saw her earlier, she did not look pregnant. Turns out, her child had died inside her, and the nurses had just told her. I am not in the medical profession so I don’t know how such things should be handled but when my father passed and the maid waited outside the gate to inform us immediately from school, I could feel cruelty. The very way I do now. Again, the security guards came just in time and noticed I was not pregnant; they whisked me out.

I got home and went straight to bed. Instead of putting my phone to charge, I dreamed that I did and when I woke up at 4.00AM, I found it cold.

 

I had a message from my sister. One word;

‘Nakufa’

 

I died, I could not make sense out of it, and I did not know exactly what it meant. At that very moment my mother calls, she had the same message; both had been sent at 2am. My head couldn’t stop spinning. I didn’t know whether to go left or right. I don’t know how but I convinced myself to take a shower before I left.

 

Still struggling with the door locks, mum calls yet again;

‘umeshatoka?’

 

‘eeh, ndio ninatoka’

 

‘Did you pray before you left?’

 

I started sobbing, why would she ask if I had prayed. She managed to shush me before I hung up. I prayed, I kept saying ‘Lord, let your will be done’, like Jesus on the cross. I did not know what to ask for because I could not imagine that the text meant my sister was actually dying. I got to the gate of the maternity ward at 5.00 Am, the watchman was sleeping, and visiting hours were not due until due 6.00 Am. These people were strict, I did not know what to do, I walked in and stood in front of him, then he moved and made a sound, but he did not wake up.

 

The policy is when you walk into the gate, your hand is stamped and they check for the stamp when visiting hours are over, but I did not care, I tiptoed and went to the ward. Majority of the people were asleep except for those who couldn’t because of the pain and my sister was one of them. The first thing I noticed was she was not wearing a sweater as cold as it was, all my fears of her dying disappeared, it was the pain talking in that text. She had been in labor all through the night, and the nurses kept telling her she was not ready.

 

I was crying, not knowing why, all the nurses were asleep. No one was checking on any of them. One woman in the next bed kept telling me to rub her back, I did except all my attention was on my sister. One of the nurses woke up and I had to run out so she couldn’t see me. I walked back in as my sister was saying how she thought the baby was coming, there was no nurse around so I had to walk her to the delivery room myself. While I waited outside, more tears were rolling down my cheeks, I did not hear her cream or the baby cry, but moments later a nurse walks out and says

‘It’s a girl.’

 

The first thing I did is call my mum.

 

Still standing outside, as the cold wind hit my face, one thought kept crossing my mind.

‘We couldn’t possibly appreciate mothers enough!’

 

 

 

Sexanigans

Ed Sheeran’s club is not the best place to find love so the bar is where I go is definitely not your regular Kenyan line. It is just out of sync with you, the typical Kenyan man.

Keeping that mind, can we have a chat?

Of late I am a regular in a bar, in fact they are almost knowing me by name and favourite spot. The only problem is I don’t talk a lot. I keep cool and stay humble, mostly because I am never the buyer. In fact, one time a bar maid came over to me and notably enquired, “Mbona weh mtulivu hivi?” (Insert Tanzanian accent). The spirits from the bottle were already having conversations in my head so I just flash her a smile and chuckled. She however proceeded to ask, “Kwani weh ni pastor umekuja night service?”

Thank goodness my sponsor was at hand to pick up the conversation. Those guys in my head were having a very heated debate and I was enjoying it. I didn’t want to miss the point where one was going to lose then wear a smirk face and hurl, ”maybe we needed better judges next time!” Before adding some unprintable terms to foot it more. People are yet to learn to take defeats in grace.

Fast forward to this fateful day, I am in my second favorite bar, keen not to drink too much as I am not yet over my hangover from the other day. I had become a wreckage of a person. My guy had got me a whole mzinga (anyone who buys you a mzinga doesn’t like you, they don’t have your interests at heart, keep them forever). Thanks goodness it was a bit pricey alcohol. I did not wake up cursing alcohol. And please I don’t want to hear about alcohol limits and shit.

I am in the company of a lady with the skin of groundnuts, donning a greenish dera that flows to the ankle, with a white tuburn on the head, and a stud on the nose. She looks like she shouldn’t be here, until she opens her mouth to get out an already alcohol altered speech. She speaks a lot and anytime she says a Luo word or phrase she interprets it to me. Guys I told you I look more like a Russian than a Luo you couldn’t get it.

She seems to be taking a keen interest on me as she suddenly slips to my side then says, ”I am Violet, what’s your name?”

Yours Truly, and I am taking you home with me tonight. My Samantha is broken so maybe I would use some drunk hands for a change.

Now this is the night I realized I can be a Lewy, Lewisky, Lewiso, to one person in a single night. All this time the lady is showing clear intent, or maybe she was just enjoying having my alcohol. But in my mind I was like, ”please not tonight, father take this bird away from me, you don’t have to let this happen to me the second straight day without hitting the shower. It would be a shame if you let her win the third straight month before I take a shave. Please, please this is not the night.”

Pap! My prayer gets answered instantly. A fight ensues.

A man is holding with an intent to crush the throat of another guy and people are frantically moving to separate them. But why are they fighting? They are fighting over a lady. At last one is thrown out while the other remains throwing curse words around. I believe that decision was made solely on the likelihood of purchasing power. I drink at cheap places, where the so perceived big purchasers can be that desperate.

Apparently the lady being fought over is an acquaintance to this lass and she had to go check if she is okay. I could enjoy freedom again.

“Bwana mimi, mimi mtu asicheze na mimi. Me naweza ua mtu. Huyo boy mngemwacha tu na mimi kidogo, sahi roho yake ingekuwa kwa mkono yake,” the retained man direct that to me, immediately he settles on the seat next to me that by now, had become vacant. I ignore him! I wasn’t going to massage his ego. He turns to the next person and says that very statement, and to anyone else in the bar who would care to listen.

Sitting next to him was proving worse than accessing a site that takes ages to load. So at one point, I am like maybe this man is truly infuriated and he would sure be holding this other guy’s heart by now like he threatens. So maybe I need to talk to him lest I become the next object of intent.

“Kwani huyo boy amekukosea sana?” I asked him for lack of a better way to start the conversation.

“Eeh bana, na me nakuambia huyo mtu ameponea sana.”

“Shida iko wapi?”

“Huyo mtu anacheza aje na mshichana wangu!!” He retorts while repeatedly stabbing her chest with the index finger.

“Kama ni mshichana wako basi hiyo hata mimi naona hauko vibaya sana.”

“Me akianani ningemuua!!”

Have you seen a drunk man curse before? Most probably yeah. Most of them with issues do it a lot. Like this one.

“Sah ulileta mshichana hapa na mtu akakuja ati anasema ni girlfriend wake?”

“Hapana nimempata hapa. Na ananipenda.”

“Anakupenda yenye mnaenda kuoana?”

“Banah Kwani weh uelewi hizi vitu. Me namwoa aje na niko na bibi kwa nyumba. Hii tu ni kitu ya sahi”

Okay, let’s get this right. So a man is swearing all over that they will indeed kill someone else over a basic bitch in a bar for sex? Well, talk might be cheap, but I saw that guy hold his nemesis’ neck.

For what again!

A whole new level of being DUMB.

Here is the thing, I believe there are things that you are allowed to kill someone over. Like when you have a ridiculously ugly head shape like me here, then they tell you to your face. You are allowed to collect your arsenal and come clear someone. When they get boring, kill them before they kill you with boredom. It’s self-defense. But never about sex.

Sex is one of the most overrated acts in this earth.

Sex cannot build you anything worthwhile. Sex will not help get our forests back, meaning we will have sex and still die of drought. Sex cannot repay our national debts. It can’t even cure procrastination. Sex does not give meaning to anything except to sex itself.

To kill over that?

Again why would you kill or injure someone over something that is overflowing. There are times one will experience dry spell for months and wonder even if it’s possible for a man to have sex maybe once every month. But that point when you will have three people in a day, and you never broke a sweat to have, is when you will know how valueless or worthless this shit can get.

Also is somebody’s life worth something that you can be able to achieve with your own hands? As long as you have a good internet on your hand, and a lubrication on the other, then you would have achieved your way to ejaculation land.

Well, let’s say you hit someone over a lady and you win. You proudly get your slay on the chopping board only for the tools to fail you. It happens! You work hard, you do everything right, you have been touched well, and the weapon of massive destruction is rearing to go. The atomic bomb wants to down Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Then one word or one phrase, and the flag goes immediately from full swing to half must to zero.

Ohh boy, will you not get frustrated! Nothing frustrates like a penis that is flaccid and numb in the face of a welcoming vagina.

You will try recalling all the atrocities you have committed before, the hands that might be working against you, and even ask imaginary forgiveness for the first lady whose heart you broke. Just like that, you would have hit your fellow man for what’s not worth it.

I understand there is this phenomenon on good sex. That it possesses you. It messes with your thinking. You see people do things unimaginable, like sell a prime family land in Kitengela to come spoil a lady in the city. I don’t believe it’s love. It’s the sex. I mean, good pussy will make you beat another guy for just looking at her.

Well, that is a different case, excusable by all measurable standards. How about in a case where you have just met a bitch in a bar? You fight your way to stardom, you leave your guy behind writhing in pain and cursing ever drinking. You make the good man sin by contemplating leaving alcohol (punishable in the court of wrong men) only for you to end up being taken to Lake Victoria you swim for a whole night.

Here is where we officially discard the Ed Sheeran lyrics. We are not going to find love in the bar.

Men we must stop being selfish. Let’s learn to share. Like when we get to a point where we want the same thing. Let’s talk about it. Let’s agree who between us it suits the most and why. If at all you hit a dead end and you can’t agree on either side. Go ahead agree on a three some. Some new experience won’t hurt. By the end of the day you will all be good to go.

It’s also not like you are even going to invent anything new when having sex. There are only four sex styles, and that won’t change today, the next generation or forever. We have the missionary for we the boring types. Girl on top for those trying to enjoy sex. You will go the doggy way to avoid facing your mistakes. Ultimately a variation of all of those when trying to be a fun person.

Some of us have a proven record of prosperity being side guys, more than being the main shit. So we can always talk and agree who is worthy of being the side guy and who takes the crown at side nigga.

By the end of the day let no man hit, contemplate killing or even do any harm to another man over some 10 minute (yeah I don’t do a lot) strokes.
PS. I never miss a chance to have sex. some drunk hands for a change.

Now this is the night I realized I can be a Lewy, Lewisky, Lewiso, to one person in a single night. All this time the lady is showing clear intent, or maybe she was just enjoying having my alcohol. But in my mind I was like, ”please not tonight, father take this bird away from me, you don’t have to let this happen to me the second straight day without hitting the shower. It would be a shame if you let her win the third straight month before I take a shave. Please, please this is not the night.”

Pap! My prayer gets answered instantly. A fight ensues.

A man is holding with an intent to crush the throat of another guy and people are frantically moving to separate them. But why are they fighting? They are fighting over a lady. At last one is thrown out while the other remains throwing curse words around. I believe that decision was made solely on the likelihood of purchasing power. I drink at cheap places, where the so perceived big purchasers can be that desperate.

Apparently the lady being fought over is an acquaintance to this lass and she had to go check if she is okay. I could enjoy freedom again.

“Bwana mimi, mimi mtu asicheze na mimi. Me naweza ua mtu. Huyo boy mngemwacha tu na mimi kidogo, sahi roho yake ingekuwa kwa mkono yake,” the retained man direct that to me, immediately he settles on the seat next to me that by now, had become vacant. I ignore him! I wasn’t going to massage his ego. He turns to the next person and says that very statement, and to anyone else in the bar who would care to listen.

Sitting next to him was proving worse than accessing a site that takes ages to load. So at one point, I am like maybe this man is truly infuriated and he would sure be holding this other guy’s heart by now like he threatens. So maybe I need to talk to him lest I become the next object of intent.

“Kwani huyo boy amekukosea sana?” I asked him for lack of a better way to start the conversation.

“Eeh bana, na me nakuambia huyo mtu ameponea sana.”

“Shida iko wapi?”

“Huyo mtu anacheza aje na mshichana wangu!!” He retorts while repeatedly stabbing her chest with the index finger.

“Kama ni mshichana wako basi hiyo hata mimi naona hauko vibaya sana.”

“Me akianani ningemuua!!”

Have you seen a drunk man curse before? Most probably yeah. Most of them with issues do it a lot. Like this one.

“Sah ulileta mshichana hapa na mtu akakuja ati anasema ni girlfriend wake?”

“Hapana nimempata hapa. Na ananipenda.”

“Anakupenda yenye mnaenda kuoana?”

“Banah Kwani weh uelewi hizi vitu. Me namwoa aje na niko na bibi kwa nyumba. Hii tu ni kitu ya sahi”

Okay, let’s get this right. So a man is swearing all over that they will indeed kill someone else over a basic bitch in a bar for sex? Well, talk might be cheap, but I saw that guy hold his nemesis’ neck.

For what again!

A whole new level of being DUMB.

Here is the thing, I believe there are things that you are allowed to kill someone over. Like when you have a ridiculously ugly head shape like me here, then they tell you to your face. You are allowed to collect your arsenal and come clear someone. When they get boring, kill them before they kill you with boredom. It’s self-defense. But never about sex.

Sex is one of the most overrated acts in this earth.

Sex cannot build you anything worthwhile. Sex will not help get our forests back, meaning we will have sex and still die of drought. Sex cannot repay our national debts. It can’t even cure procrastination. Sex does not give meaning to anything except to sex itself.

To kill over that?

Again why would you kill or injure someone over something that is overflowing. There are times one will experience dry spell for months and wonder even if it’s possible for a man to have sex maybe once every month. But that point when you will have three people in a day, and you never broke a sweat to have, is when you will know how valueless or worthless this shit can get.

Also is somebody worth something that you can be able to achieve with your own hands? As long as you have a good internet on your hand, and a lubrication on the other, then you would have achieved your way to ejaculation land.

Well, let’s say you hit someone over a lady and you win. You proudly get your slay on the chopping board only for the tools to fail you. It happens! You work hard, you do everything right, you have been touched well, and the weapon of massive destruction is rearing to go. The atomic bomb wants to down Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Then one word or one phrase, and the flag goes immediately from full swing to half must to zero.

Ohh boy, will you not get frustrated! Nothing frustrates like a penis that is flaccid and numb in the face of a welcoming vagina.

You will try recalling all the atrocities you have committed before, the hands that might be working against you, and even ask imaginary forgiveness for the first lady whose heart you broke. Just like that, you would have hit your fellow man for what’s not worth it.

I understand there is this phenomenon on good sex. That it possesses you. It messes with your thinking. You see people do things unimaginable, like sell a prime family land in Kitengela to come spoil a lady in the city. I don’t believe it’s love. It’s the sex. I mean, good pussy will make you beat another guy for just looking at her.

Well, that is a different case, excusable by all measurable standards. How about in a case where you have just met a bitch in a bar? You fight your way to stardom, you leave your guy behind writhing in pain and cursing ever drinking. You make the good man sin by contemplating leaving alcohol (punishable by…) only for you to end up being taken to Lake Victoria you swim for a whole night.

Here is where we officially discard the Ed Sheeran lyrics. We are not going to find love in the bar.

Men we must stop being selfish. Let’s learn to share. Like when we get to a point where we want the same thing. Let’s talk about it. Let’s agree who between us it suits the most and why. If at all you hit a dead end and you can’t agree on either side. Go ahead agree on a three some. Some new experience won’t hurt. By the end of the day you will all be good to go.

It’s also not like you are even going to invent anything new when having sex. There are only four sex styles, and that won’t change today, the next generation or forever. We have the missionary for we the boring types. Girl on top for those trying to enjoy sex. You will go the doggy way to avoid facing your mistakes. Ultimately a variation of all of those when trying to be a fun person.

Some of us have a proven record of prosperity being side guys, more than being the main shit. So we can always talk and agree who is worthy of being the side guy and who takes the crown at side nigga.

By the end of the day let no man hit, contemplate killing or even do any harm to another man over some 10 minute (yeah I don’t do a lot) strokes.

PS. I never miss a chance to have sex.

WHO IS A GREAT LOVER?

Today is the Saint valentine’s day, the day set aside for the celebration of love. Therefore it is just right that we talk about love. An aspect of love to be precise. Several people have tried to describe love before to no avail and I have no business meddling in it. Lest I break it for the lover. Even in as much as I like basking in the glory of spoilage, change is as better as a rest. Let me take a path less treaded to look at who a great lover is.

A great lover is most of the times believed to be embodied in actions rather than words. For the lovers of literature, you will hear most of the time they refer to Romeo and Juliet as the perfect example of an epitome of how a lover can get.

The religious guys on the hand would throw to you the act of Jesus Christ of Nazareth facing persecutions, crucifixion, and dying on the cross for human sins as the ultimate act of a good lover.

That every good lover must be willing to do something for you to express their love.
I tend to think otherwise. I believe that a good lover is the one who neither shows nor acts. That a great lover is one whose talks or actions towards the object of desire cannot be a measure on the love they hold for the other.

A great lover is someone who loves you from the deepest part of their heart but they acknowledge the fact that the beauty of the love would dissappear the moment they confess it to you. Not necessarily because of the fear of rejection, but of the fact that nothing stays the same after the confessions of love.

Even in as much as many believe that a great lover should go to whichever extremes to show their love. Well, looking at it from the angle of the lovee (does this exist) , I doubt if the risk is worth it. Will they have peace after their lover is gone? Will they be enjoying in solitude as they would have with the lovers around. How about their families and friends. How will they feel after his/her demise?

Again will they have achieved their purpose through the death? Like in Jesus’ case, did he die for the hypocrisy we face in church today? What a wasted death if at all he died for our sins yet sins keep spiraling, in fact some new and worse ways of sinning keep spiraling up with every new generation.
A great lover is the one who watches you from a distance, seeing the much they can bring themselves to, and believe you are the perfect human being who ever graced the earth.

The world has grown so capitalistic, where everything is getting commercialized, love inclusive. That is why the modern day Valentine’s day is hinged more on the spending money to show love, more than any other aspect, then sex maybe next following closely. It is such that the more you can spend on your partner is the greater a lover you are perceived to be.

Woe unto you broke men!

The truth is that great lovers are not worried about splashing gifts on you for just a single day. You already revolve in their world. They spend their lovey (this as well) time thinking about you. They have poems written about you, stories where you are the prosperous starring, even if not on paper but in their hearts. To them is a world where you are the sole leader and you call all the shots.

They spend their time studying you. Do not confuse it with stalking. They know and like things about you, so they have no need to disturb your peace asking you to tell them about yourself as if in a interview. They pay attention to details. They love how your hair rests on your shoulders. How you laugh and talk. They even love how you breath.

They know that in the morning your breathe beats the smell of socks submerged in dirty waters the worn for a whole week. They still love you the same.

What a pure love!

A great lover loves you more than any being has ever loved another but they never get in your way, and they let you keep whatever they love in you.

Can we for once let the so called nice guys and the ” shy” in love win this?

Happy Valentine’s day to you our readers.

WE DESERVE BETTER

The other day I was on a matatu headed to the house. A guy boarded the vehicle mid way; I really didn’t know what happened between him and the conductor. I only heard the conductor yell, “Hii gari huwa haibebi Wajaluo kama wewe!” That was one of the worst open tribalism incidents I have seen in my life. Any other time I would have protested and gotten out of the vehicle, well not that day. People had earlier on been killed just for coming from a given tribe or supporting a certain political candidate.

Together with all the other passengers we kept mum. Even though we might have been uncomfortable, we endured through it all, only fighting the injustice within ourselves.

As a society we have employed the mute mode on evils in the society. One of the worst ills we are facing today is police brutality. Our political scene has been characterized with several deaths. Police have employed the use of extra force in dealing with the people they should be protecting. They have beaten, killed and maimed people. In all these we expect calls for a stop to the killing but no we are proven wrong.

Our celebs have kept silent in calling out a stop on police brutality. They are busy protecting brands when their fans are dying. The once great boy band Sautisol would rather release sexual videos to save their stumbling musical career than speak out on the evils in the society. They are becoming part of the evils we have to deal with.

How can you say to your fans ‘I love you all’ on social media yet show none of that in action? Is it for the likes? What happens when all your fans are gone? Will you speak out then?

The political class has failed us miserably in the fight. I did not follow live the swearing in ceremony of President Uhuru Kenyatta, but I had to get my hands on his speech. I had to go through it more than once; to ensure that indeed I had not missed the acknowledgment of the political deaths in Kenya since the August 8 elections rather he did not talk about it at all. It feels so bad when the lives lost are treated like the slaughtering of chicken.

The truth is that it’s high time we have the uncomfortable conversation on police brutality.

My home county, Kisumu, has seen its fair share of police brutality and killings. The stage is always set for police brutality before any national political contest. My people cannot celebrate or show disappointment (most cases) in whatever political outcome. Before any public announcement there is heavy deployment of police to Kisumu. Media follows in second. Ready to capture the best photos and videos of the rowdy Kisumu people.

When the rest of the country looks at Kisumu, it sees a land of violence; a group of people who don’t have peace in their DNA, a place full of rowdy youth who thrive in destruction, a backward place with everyone an expert in throwing stones. But then they need to ask themselves some few questions. How did Kisumu manage to become a city when it is full time violence? How do people in Kisumu fend for themselves when all they do is violence all the time? The last time I checked violence couldn’t feed people.

The media has played a big role in painting a picture of violence in the minds of the people in relation to Kisumu. The media is hell bent on portraying violence as a Luo affair. For example, it took ages to report the cases on police killings in Bungoma, only showing it after widespread talks in social media.

Unlike what the media is portraying, Kisumu people are one of the most welcoming and loving people around Kenya. They are a people who have suffered and struggled to be where they are, just like most Kenyans. They are very forgiving people. Their only undoing is that they lack the pretentious gene in their DNAs. They don’t sugarcoat anything they want to address. Another undoing may be the lack of diplomacy in how they react. Truth be told. But before you judge, remember there is always more to a story.

The media has failed to call out the police killings. I am yet to see any media campaign directed towards stopping police brutality. Then you wonder why most people stopped watching our media? Sometime back activist Boniface Mwangi led a protest condemning police brutality only to end up being a victim. Media covered it live in their channels, but what did they say?

Make no mistake, just because the current police killings are directed towards a certain community or political group doesn’t mean that it will not get to another place next time. Power, just like death, moves to all homes from time to time. At the moment it might seem to be so far or even the thought may appear to be farfetched, but it will come. We have the opportunity to call it out and it be stopped otherwise when the time for the other people to face the brutality comes, they may also just sit down, relax and watch.

Do not speak out only if you are assured you will never need anyone to speak for you.

A group of people who happen to be from the ‘right’ political side think that those killed by the police during protests have called the deaths upon themselves. ‘msiba wa kujitakia’ they say. They have a feeling that the best thing to do in such a time is to keep away from the streets. The truth is that hiding away is not a way to achieve any reforms. How would Kenya have achieved independence if the Mau Mau kept away in the comfort of their homes when the colonialists wanted them to? Would we be having Uhuru park if the women who camped at the place heeded Moi’s threats and brutal treatment? All noteworthy political reforms in Kenya have been achieved with guys on the streets.

Again, they fail to notice that police in some cases have forcefully ejected people from their houses for the beatings. The people in slums in Kisumu and perceived opposition strongholds have such gory tales. Children have been killed at one of the supposed safest places, HOME.

We have a government which seems hell-bent on trying to instill fear in its citizens. A government that may not be ready to accommodate different views. Some people have been arguing that the police are justified to kill and injure the opposition supporters because of violence and looting. Then you are left wondering why they teargas the Maa community peacefully demonstrating against the killing of their cows? There are more civilised ways of dealing with a rowdy crowd. A bullet is not one. That’s meant for war. And we are not at war. We are neighbours, friends, family. But we use war strategies against our own. The very arms and energy used to fight our own can be used to fight our mutual enemy. Those who are killing our children in schools. Those killing our neighbours as they travel in buses. Saying this makes me wonder, is there really a difference between the said bad guys and the police?

Unfortunately, it’s getting to a time when people wouldn’t fear anymore, when guys are ready to face the fire head on and brave whatever weapon that is thrown their way. That is a clear indication that we are breeding a group of people accustomed to death, pain, and hate. With time the killings would not be a threat enough. It will be a norm. That is a dangerous time.

I was talking to Princess earlier this week on how at times we have different views on the evils in the country and she told me in part, “…because I know the moment I start justifying wrongs, am lost.” I couldn’t agree more. It is high time the citizens of this country stop finding a way of justifying wrongs. It is really heartbreaking to hear someone defend the killings of children.

Once Kenya has decided that killing children is bearable, IT IS OVER. No debate.

Chapter four of the constitution of Kenya on rights and fundamental freedoms, provides for human dignity. Every person has inherent dignity and the right to have that dignity respected and protected.

There is not even a single shred of dignity from how the police handle the masses. The police brutality met on women and children, the clobbering on our brothers, maiming and beatings of everyone on the streets comes with no dignity. For that, I want to pass a note to the police. WE DESERVE BETTER. We have dignity to uphold. It must be protected. We must not beg for it.

We deserve to be served and protected by the police irrespective of our political affiliation as long as we are within the provisions of the constitution. We only should be afraid of criminals not police.

LET’S TALK AGE

Being someone who lives life on the fast lane, I don’t think things over. I believe in doing them first and thinking later or even failing to think altogether. I suspect when I think first, I would persuade myself out of it (happens with my writing all the time). But then we all know that regret for the things we do can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we do not do that is inconsolable. Dating has never been an exception.

One of my recent adventures gave me something to think about though. So for the first time I am thinking about age in relation to dating and relationships. In this case I was talking with a lady I actually had intentions of making moves (smooth or otherwise) on.

With my permit for story on approved, we join the story in progress.

Her:  So there are screenshots I want to bring to our attention (winking emoji)

Me: Eheh go ahead

Her:  (sends two social media profiles) Open mind (winking emoji)

Me: Okay, I can see, go ahead

Her: What’s your take on age and relationship…genuinely…? Like you’ve not seen those screenshots.

Me: I saw the screenshots and can’t see what’s up.  With me I am not pro age. It is important, but it is just a number.  What’s your take?

This is someone I have been talking with for some time. She found me witty and really fun. She thought I am someone worth knowing more about. After doing her stalking (she made open her impeccable stalking skills) it dawns on her that I am a year younger. At this point she was going all out. Like she had seen the biggest turn off ever.

She was gearing to drop my ass so hard. Emanating noise would be magnitudes louder than thunder. Buildings would shake like biscuits shaken in a box. Glasses smashed. Books falling off shelves. It was to be terrifying. Tarmac would crack with cars on top. Electric poles would fall, lights sparkling all over. Squirrels would jump to their gods of rodents for redemption. In that moment I had instantly gone from sexable to invisible.

While many people would want to lie or even create an illusion of being older, I don’t do that. I am someone who accepts things they can’t change. No one has control over the time they are born. Not even the people they are born of. So all I do is take time to understand why someone would think that my age is a turn off. Here is how that conversation ended;

Her:  (several laughter emoji)…but I can’t really say it works because av not dated older men… So I guess ni mentality nimekuwa nayo.

Her:  I just wanted to talk about this…rather than have it lingering

I had retained my place as sexable. No earthquake is happening. I can’t be responsible for the first 7.0 magnitude earthquake in Kenya.

Society has created a mental picture revolving around age differences. Most of the time people feel wrong when they start developing feelings for people outside their age bracket. The society wants to make you feel that dating an older person is mainly for material gains and not love. Well, you could still date someone your age for reasons other than love.

Several people choose their relationship partners based on different criteria. I don’t know how a guy wakes up one day and decide that he is all about ass. That a great ass cannot let him settle, it makes them uncontrollably giddy, and super excited. Some will go the boob’s way. Juicy boobs look to him so inviting. He just wants to hold, caress and appreciate. The world can keep its supermodels, anorexic looking as they are.

Is it hereditary? Like my liking for BBW a trait passed to me from my dad who got it from my grandpa who also got it from the people before him. Like one of my ancestors would send guys out to bring a woman home with clear instructions. She must have things I can hold to when I fall asleep. Or maybe am just compensating for my small body, who knows? Or even worse I am looking for a parental figure. Whatever it is, to me there is something disarming about big women. Without lingerie their boobs sit lower, more natural less close together and look so perfectly molded.

Many people have age as a factor in deciding whom they date. The media has also portrayed age to be a big factor in the relationships people have. It has revered men for having younger partners, while castigating older women for having younger spouses.

Emmanuel Macron, France’s youngest president hit the headlines more for his marriage with the 64 year old first lady. Instead of praising Macron and Brigitte, the media cast bad light on the first lady. Some people in France went ahead to sign a petition barring Brigitte from becoming the official France’s first lady. But how about in reversed roles where the man is older? Trump and Melanie’s age difference has never been a hot topic. It did not even make the man to almost miss the top seat. You are left wondering, what has someone’s love life got to do with their leadership skills?

The Kenyan society has had its fair share on the age difference debate. The most mentioned one is the wedding between the former Mau Mau freedom fighter Wambui Otieno and Mbugua. The 67 year old Wambui kissed with the 25 year old Mbugua on live television. Did you think romance dies with age? Wambui’s daughters boycotted the wedding while Mbugua’s mother refused to accept Wambui as her daughter in law. She later on collapsed and died.  It was that serious.

We often put up walls and flee for the mountains, but before shutting the door on the chance at love, think about your potential lover’s maturity level. If you both are on the same level of maturity, don’t let the attached age number cloud your decision.

How many times have you heard the phrase, “act your age”? It means that the society expects you to behave in a certain way at a given age. Well, that is not the case with everyone. People experience life in different ways making growth different in people. You can be 22 years old with the mindset of a 42 year old or vice versa. This is to say that time is just a human created concept.

One of my all time favorite writers Oyunga Pala also had a very sober look at age that you will definitely  like. He likened it to a Jail cell being just a room

So age is just a number. It’s totally irrelevant unless, of course you happen to be a bottle of wine.

Q&A WITH LEWIS MARTIN

The other day I was talking with a long gone friend. She suggested a coffee meeting in town. Instead of worrying about what to write here while at the same time trying to come up with what to wear when I will be meeting her, or even to fail honoring the meeting altogether, I deemed it fit to have content from you. Please don’t crucify me, it is not that I value this place less, it is only that this is an ex I will be meeting. She cleared school when I was in my second year. She was the sweetest taboo. So I have to give it a good thought.

I was surprised that some people had been waiting for a chance to ask me questions, I don’t know why they have never got to me and asked before. I am an easy person and open for talks, even small talks. So feel free.

Here are your questions and the answers;

Q. What would you do if money wasn’t an object?

A. In my life all I want is to travel. I want to experience different cultures. I want to watch topless women on the beaches in Rio De Janeiro. I want to view the earth from a hot air balloon in South Africa. I also want to see tall buildings and see the wonders of the world. I will create a museum in Seme with a piece from every traveling destination I get to.
I would also get a huge chunk of land and create LewisMartin forest. A place I would dissappear to when I want to go away and interact with the wild as I appreciate the work of God.

Q. If you could go back in time what do you think you could do differently?

A. Well, mostly I have made good decisions in life but if I was to go back in time I would not take a degree in communication, it’s not like it’s bad, I would go for a skill like Web design and the likes. I would even do more sciences and mathematics. I feel I wasted a bigger part of my brain taking easy courses. I did not even have to read or attend classes and I don’t remember getting a retake, not unless they give me one at the moment.

Q. Are you married?

A. I am not married yet. Though those guys back at home have started asking suggestive questions. I hope when they get me leads it won’t be someone who wants to sign a prenuptial agreement.

Q. Are you dating?

A. Nop, I am single.

Q. How deep in of a crush do you have for your blog mate?

A. Eheh well Paula Norah is what I would call beauty meets sophistication. She is the most beautiful lady I know. I like everything about her. We can easily talk about anything in the face of the earth. Some even out of the earth. I would say she is atypical. You guys interact with her every other week in this platform and you can attest she sure is worth her weight in gold. All that combined, I love her, so not a crush.

Q. What is your most Outstanding Character?

A. This is a question that is best answered by someone else who knows me well other than me. But I would say I am spontaneous.

Q. What are your greatest and most embarrassing moments as a writer?

A. I have had some great moments as a writer mostly when I go to some place and someone out of nowhere tells me, “Hey, I have been reading your work.”
The other day I attended an event full of the Kenyan celebs; musicians, actors,media guys and even the great business guys in the country. It made me feel good about being a writer. The event with Khaligraph Jones, Fena Gitu, Elani, Nyashinski, and several big shots in the capital, it was more like a Kenyan Music Academy night. Then you interact with such and have drinks on the same table with nobody all over them. It was a great event.
About the embarrassing moments, I don’t think I have faced any yet.

Q.Its actually raining around here and I’ve always wanted to ask you what’s your frequent thought when its raining heavily and you’re just staring at the raindrops and you have your thoughts magnified?

A. I was born in Kisumu city, at some point in life shit happened and we had to return to the village. We left everything in town and headed home empty handed. Our house in shagz was what befits the term shackle. It was a small grass thatched one room house. The grass on the roof was placed such that the side of the bed was well done while, on the other side you could be able to tell any changes on weather conditions. You would feel the strength of the sun when a sun ray pierced through, and count stars as well as see how big the moon was by looking through the roof. That would tell you what it was when it rained. In short rains were nightmares and it sickened us. While other kids would be rejoicing and playing on the rains, with us it was as if rains were a way to ridicule us for being poor.
Well, the situation changed to the better after some years. That is why nowadays when I see the rain and just look at the raindrops, all I say is, “God you are good.”
There is also another part of me which wants to get someone pretty and go get soaked in the waters as we do inappropriate things in the rain.

Q. Biggest challenge as a writer in PepperLife

A. My biggest challenge as a writer in PepperLife is also my greatest motivation. The challenge is having a great partner. Paula writes so well, you read her articles and feel that she has done good. She writes with passion that keeps growing. People rave about her, I go to places and people talk about how awesome my partner is. It is really good, but wait till you open Ms Word and you want to bring a piece to life. I do feel like I would bring shit and this is a good motivation. It is really not comparing stuff, it is just the feeling that you won’t want to go down when she has taken the bar so high. So she better keep it going the way she has always done it.

Q. Are you interested in men?

A. Yes, I am interested in both men and women. Given that I am a man I have to be interested in men, like I have to know what men face in daily lives. I have to know what fatherhood and marriage life entails, coz with time I am going to be a dad and a husband. I have to interact with different men and see how life is for them. I am interested in men in all things except sexually, I am straight like a wall.

Q. What do you think about your university friendships?

A. I had a very good stint in campus. I at times miss the place. That would only be possible with my friends. I had great friends. They impacted my life and I also impacted their lives I believe. Without the friends I would be an animal peg in a soggy ground.

Q. How many ladies have you dumped and what was the reason?

A. I am not really the person who dumps ladies. I am a person who is open minded, we just agree on what we both want from the word go. We can always agree about these things, it is never that serious.

Q. What do you think of Kenya?

A. I think Kenya needs more men like CJ David Maraga. People who will uphold the rule of law and with the fear of God.

Q. Have you found your dream girl?

A. Yeah.

Q. How and when did you decide to be a blogger?

A. I have always wanted to be a writer. In my second year I was already writing for a publication. The problem is that websites would start on a good path but then on a need to gain quick traffic they would go to sensational news and I would quit. I definitely cannot write on something I don’t like. I kept writing and keeping them or sharing with only one person who did a good work keeping the fire in me burning. I am sure I couldn’t have started blogging on my own, I kept letting procrastination have the better of me. So with the immense help from my partner(sole reader, editor and critic by then), early this year, I got a feet. Shortly after, we moved to this site together as partners.

Q. You run PepperLife with Paula. How’s the partnership like? Is it a 50-50 partnership/ a Co CEO situation or does one of you get a higher percentage if it were to be in terms of shares?

A. PepperLife is a balanced and equal partnership. Everything goes 50-50.

Q. I always doubt your relationship with Paula. Are you dating or have you ever dated?

A. We are not dating and we have never dated. We are great friends though I am not ruling out that option.

Q. Would you be a man and confirm in this blog that Paula is your dream wife?

A. Yes, I will be a man and confirm that she is a super lady, any man will be extremely lucky to have her.

Q. If Lewis Martin wasnt taking kiswahili mawasiliano, what would be his career now?

A. I am really not sure about that, by the time I was headed to that course I didn’t even know what I wanted, at one point I was thinking of KMTC. What I am sure though is that I would still be writing no matter the place I ended.

Q.If Lewis Martin was to write a book on his life, what would the title be?

A.IT IS EXACTLY WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE’. One day you might meet it in a bookstore. I know it will be looking relaxed like a guy on holiday at the coast who just wants peace and a good time, please smile at it and strike a conversation. The conversation might lead to other things.

Q. Are you ever curios of who you’d be in an alternate universe, like if you were born maybe in a different time, to a different family and in a different environment. Or who do you think you would be and what talents would you think you’d have?

A. In another universe, I would be a pigeon. They are never into anybody’s business. They are just peaceful and relaxed. They have a way of just keeping it together. They don’t crave too much attention, they are happy with what they got. Those are the things I like. I know I would fit in that team.

Q.If you were to go back in time relationship wise, what would you do differently?

A. I would keep everything the way they were except maybe slow on my rebounds game.
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I really tried answering most of the questions. Someone wanted to know if I had taken supper one night and she insisted I answer it here. Yeah, I had taken supper. A cup of tea, bread and cake.

I think this is a session I will be taking annually as I think of a way to drag my partner to have a session of her own. I mean, if she was one of the guys who used Sarahah, she can easily handle this.

Thanks for your questions, if at all you still have some for me, wait till next year same period.

JOURNEY TO REDEMPTION

There are some moments you never want interrupted. You want to keep them in any medium possible and play them anytime you feel like. Such moments could come when you are at the shore of Lake Victoria, as the afternoon breeze smashes on your face, gets past your ears and you feel your body blocking its flow. The waves of the Lake flow gently with a little sunshine giving the breeze all the time in the world to ask yourself why you took so long to get to that place. Besides you stands a gem, with vivacious features and eyes that sparkle brightening your day. It is her idea that you are there in the first place.

You move close to this beautiful being as if to point to her something on the visible shore across you, and you steadily move your left hand to rest on her lower back, your right hand still on your side. Just when you are slowly moving your left hand even lower, your phone starts ringing. Phones never let you have your moments. I believe phones are the neediest devices in this world; they don’t want you concentrating on any other thing. If your phone has ever rang at such a moment to remind you that you belong to this world, then you will get it.

You are torn between picking that phone and just silencing it. You then check it only to find it is that call that you cannot miss. It’s mum calling, and when mum calls, you will pick. She is enquiring why you never got home the previous day. Apparently she had saved you some food knowing you will get home. She is worried that you have not stopped your behavior of randomly coming up with plans and go missing.

Just after the call, a new number pops up on the screen. It’s a lecturer informing you that he will be assessing you the next day. That means you have to go back to your work station. You have to leave the beautiful view of the lake behind and get back to the crowded madness which is the city of Nairobi. You break the news to the beauty and already notice the disappointment in her voice as she asks you if there is a chance that you might not go. Those are hard times, hard choices. You have to weigh your options. Well, you know you have to travel, and again there stands the lady you have been waiting to spend the evening with. Quite a tempting offer she gives you. You take in the breeze one last time as you stroll by the shore waiting to watch the sun setting in the horizon. Evening first approaches and you head back to the house bidding your better half a kiss goodbye, and just like that you are on the road.

My life happens in a flash. I rarely plan for stuff I do because it has proven time and time again that I do not get to those places. I know of people who plan their life in a diary and religiously stick to it. That is pure genius. I am one of those people who live life in the fast lane; you can wake me up from my sleep and tell me that we are heading for a trip, and I show up whatever the time. All I need is a reason and accessibility. Motivation is always on point.

I remember how I left my village the other day. I was ploughing the farm when I received a call informing me that there was a gig opening for some few days in Kisumu. I headed home, and even without taking a shower, I changed into fresh clothes and off I went. I told guys at home that I will return in the evening. Three weeks later, they are still waiting for me. I had left home without any set of clothes to change and yet here I was, going to spend one week in town. I am not sure if that’s crazy, I only know that I will survive. I would have to make do with what I have. Isn’t that what creativity is for?

One time seeing that beauty out, I had bent next to her. She then pulls up my shirt and on asking why she says she wanted to see the brand of boxer that I had on. I don’t know what she would say if after some days she would look and see that I am still in the Gildan brand. Or wait, did she notice and just keep quiet about it? I now have the sudden urge to ask her about it.

This has been me for a long time. In school, I didn’t know whether I would get back to the house by evening or not. I never knew where the sun would set in with me in. I stopped going to bashes because almost each and every one I attended, I would wake up in unfamiliar territories the next day. I had even started influencing my friends. One time a brother of mine got into a vehicle heading to school, and he ended up meeting a stranger who offered him some lunch she was carrying. After enjoying the scrumptious meal, he found himself at the lady’s house the following morning.

Living an adventurous lifestyle has its setbacks. I am missing out on opportunities in my career and even relationships. Having lost my focus on what I prime in life, I am now convinced that it was a phase that I am soon growing out of. This is the most serious statement I have ever written in my life.

After deep thought, I am considering quitting this life. It is not for me anymore. Times are changing, and responsibilities are piling up my way. If you were like me, what has helped you out throughout the months, or even years?

A Little Dawn In Sunset

This post will look at some changes that are happening with my friends, and the turning of new chapters. Changes so beautiful that I relate to a little dawn in sunset. And a good link at the end.

There is something about Kisumu, I really don’t know if I will say it’s the feeling of being home, or the warm weather (you can wear a vest at dawn in Kisumu), or the lake that stretches out wide to meet the heavens, or even the ass. There is ass in Kisumu, even though there might be a lower supply of face, you can never run short of ass. There are all type of asses (is this the plural of ass?) and they get eyes in droves. Looking at asses in Kisumu is like work to some. You don’t have to be out to note them, they are just calling for your attention. The other day, my cousin almost drove us into a ditch, because of looking at some ass. Damn it! I almost died because of an ass. I think I would be safe in Kisumu with a female driver, a straight one of course.

Another thing about being Kisumu is that your plans can change, and they change swiftly. I am flexible and good with impromptu stuff, a skill I learned in Kisumu. My plan was to get to the city, meet some few people, then go to Seme by the night. Instead, I found myself in Western Kenya and back to Kisumu, with Seme plans postponed until Sunday. I am now in Luanda. All these were not part of the plan.

Yesterday I met Princess, she is in Kisumu, after a very long time. I am yet to know what happens to me when I meet her because I still have to tell my stomach to keep check of the butterflies. We met and I bet even my stomach wanted to enjoy that beauty in peace. We called Elphas (our good friend) to join us for some bhajias. While having a chat, and catching up, he kept telling Princess, “I know you will write about this.” Princess can write about anything she experiences. I was with Elphas on that. However, she just laughed and said “don’t worry, I am good, but he might.” She was clearly referring to me.

Ladies and gentlemen, Elphas is single! I had to announce that. Even though to some break ups is no big deal, I saw him build that shit for years. He is not miserable (from what I saw), so I am being miserable on his behalf. In that spirit of brotherhood, I offered to help him out. One, I suggested we go out and drink hard, and maybe wake up the next day in an unfamiliar place with an appropriate ass next to him. This would have worked, except he doesn’t consume hard drinks. Two, I offered to go on a hunting spree, several rebounds would have been good for his body. He said he was already done with that phase. Unfortunately those were the only missiles I could get from my arsenal. (Paula, it would be good you write a note on behalf of Elphas to other eligible single ladies out there, it would be very good of you.) I have been single for over a year and it ain’t a joke, I know what it means. It also has it’s good side. It means freedom till you want something better than yourself.

Talking of good things, Paula Norah. One of the best people I have ever stumbled upon. Someone so dear to me, one of the most influential people in this son of the lake’s world. In this world, she is more popular than Uhuru or Raila. It is her birthday next week on 9th August, just hours after the general elections. She will be the last person to celebrate a birthday in Uhuru’s first term presidency.

So to my good friend and partner, I will be the first person to wish you a happy birthday (this am sure). You deserve to celebrate your day. The good work you have been doing here, keep it on in your next year. By the way, when you wake up and find this site looking better, mostly that’s her. If we could give you all a glimpse of the back door, you guys will feel sorry for her. She also comes through during those days when I feel like shit. That comes with the package of being a CEO, as I tell her.

I am wishing her a happy birthday this early because; One, I just like doing things first with her, Two, you never know what might happen with elections, we might lack connectivity and Three, she might not pick the call. So Paula Norah, like you say, you celebrate the whole month. Go ahead, do have the very best.

Your assignment, as our readers before we break for the election and get back here on 16th August, wish madam CEO a happy birthday and then you can catch her interview by Brian Mbanacho, one of the best creative writers in the country, here.

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