After a stroll in the park on a beautiful day, perfect for youth and romance that the youth is entitled to enjoy, they got to her place so fast you would have thought there was a fire or they were quick to go hide evidence of some huge ass case. They couldn’t hold it together any more. Were it not for the urge to conserve energy needed for what was about to go down, they could have kicked down the door to be repaired after their urges they had had been served, and sense set in.  Blood rushing, eye balls outgrowing the eyelids, an unexplainable choke on their throats, hands that couldn’t stay calm. It was time! They were ripe!

Forget the brief delay courtesy of her shaky hands lacking in precision to hit the keyhole on the first try while opening the door. They don’t remember if they shut the door behind them. But he remembers how his favorite shirt got torn and lost its buttons. Pants flew and kisses flooded as passion engulfed them. Blood threatening to leak out fast from his woody. Mourns of ‘touch me, enter me’ were heard. And just when he was about to,  it suddenly dawned on him that he didnt have a single rubber in his wallet.

He put his pants back in a huff and rushed out to get much needed protection. She cheered him to hurry with urge almost killing her. He missed afew steps going down the stair case but focus and urge collected him. Got to the nearest shop and bought a pack of 3 and went back as fast as he had come.

He got to the door, pushed, but it was locked. He knocked and she didn’t answer. Knocked again calling out her name. She came to the door and threw out his boxer shorts and torn shirt (he was in a t-shirt to the shop) through the door’s porthole. “TC aki siezi!” She said to him to his utter disbelief. ‘”Siku ingine. I have only known you for a week!” He pleaded but she remained adamant that it wasn’t going to go down. Atleast not that day or never.

‘Its been a year since!’ Top Cat (TC) thought to himself as he checked out the torn shirt hang in his closet like a memento.  He turned and looked at Miss Turn Coat(TC) laying on his bed naked. He doused an alluring aftershave, smiled, or more like an evil grin and … leaned over to kiss her and at that very moment, woke up from his dream!  He jumped out of bed, went to closet and took out the torn shirt and put it in its right  place. The dustbin. What a kill joy! He hadn’t seen her ever since the DOS(Denial of Service)!

They have nothing on me!…..

A  little while back there used to be a dj group, Stratchaholics. Pinyee was the lead while Styles was a back up or just a lucky groupie. Adrian was still dope as today and so was John and the Homeboyz outfit. DJ Zaq my favorite hip  hop DJ locally cool as ever. Another of my favorite because he was spinner at a club we frequented in my high school days, DJ Brayoh.   A little braggadocio here. None of these boyz could have out done me during my little stint. All combined, I would have put them to shame at scratching. I guess you never knew that huh!

Afghan Camels

Back in the day when a mobile was fashionable, when you couldn’t send a text to a friend on the rival service provider, when Kencell couldn’t sell you running shoes just for the day of the race, when it was hip to forward text messages, there used to be a text that did rounds and went like “may the fleas of a thousand Afghan camels infest the bum of….blah blah blah.” It was a good joke back then. Well I don’t know whose day I had fucked with but the fleas did infest and not just my bum.

Am tingling baibe….

I had just finished my day at the Sunday Car Bazaar and my system felt some nicely brewed tea would kick-start a weary brain. I settled for a good measure of Cinnamon tea at this really lovely place.  The tea gives the tongue this nice sting that sends sort of wave to the brain that is so sensational, relaxing, soothing…….Thereafter I got home in half an hour and started to get alil itchy. I didn’t take much notice….no wait….I actually did and took a nice warm shower to cool off.  I didn’t have dinner I felt just fine.

Taking the throne

Come Monday at cock-crow, I couldn’t sleep any more. I waited for the quarter to six alarm just to switch it off for the first time without hitting the snooze. I was early not because I had a terrifying dream or even a wet one for that matter. I was early because the itching said “Get ya ass up GREAM! And get your scratch on! Dethrone Adrian, Homeboyz, Zaq & Scratchaholics!” Another shower, got ready to work and hit the road.”

Strip show part one

After an hour or so in the office pushing paper work and likes, the itching got worse. The more I scratched the more I wanted to end the itching with more scratching. It got to a point where I locked the door, closed the tinted windows, removed jacket, shirt, vest and got my scratch on.  Trust me that shit is not funny. Not when you strip almost to your bare and the only difference between you and a ticket to a birthday suit is a singular clothing round your loin!


I mastered some manhood, putting back my clothes checking each piece for the invisible millions of fleas of thousands of Afghan camels. Sat down at my computer and I remember whispering  “Take this thing away Jesus. Whatever it is, I have had enough of it!!” as did a google search on allergies and itching. Mind thinking it must be the new soap. But not. I had it for a week. May be the new roll-on. *pause that thought*. I hadn’t used it on the jabulanis or the chin. The soup at Grand Regency on Biashara Street. Yes, there are these two restaurants on that street called G&R. Me and my boyz called them Grand Regency a while back. Just for swagger. No. Couldn’t be the soup! I had had that thing for years. It came down to the last thing I had. The tea!  The stinging Cinnamon Tea I had so enjoyed.

I promise! I haven’t left out a thing. I swear I didn’t touch that babe or her associates that gave my boy crabs a while back and he had to trim his amazon to its entirety and spray on the coolant that is Mortein Doom. I bet you thought that thing only kills Louis the pest! Which reminds of this other guy who had to get rid off those little buggers by going naked in a open field, on a real hot day, spread a good number of The Standard pages, stood over the pages, legs apart and a can of paraffin. No! You don’t think he set himself and his loving ones on fire do you? He took a sponge, dipped it into the paraffin, then gave a nice spread on the nether and proceeded to watch as the gazetti turned into sort of a blackboard. He has been a free man ever since. I guarantee.

Eeeh, where were we? Ahhh! The good old google search results. The more I read this stuff, the more scary and the more I realized I needed to get to a clinic and fast.

The Clinic & the Cynics

I am sure the chaps in line ahead of me at the clinic must have thought I had withdrawal symptoms of crack or something more potent.  I could tell by how they looked at me as I scored a distinction in tearing myself up. They either have had experience with crack or they watch too many movies. Those were not piteous looks. Trust me. I know skeptical when I see it. I have seen it in the movies.   Am sure you too would have thought the same. What do you make of a guy scratching his face like he had acquired a colossal crab infestation running from his beard to his eyebrows for giving head to a thousand Modern Green chips fungas? I don’t know if those nasty little ones get into eyebrows. I will google and let you know. I didn’t care much the disapproving look on the female doc who examined me. She must have thought to herself “oh oh! Here comes a chap who knows how hug and caress himself” the moment I walked in. She quickly wrote a prescription after explaining my case, getting me scared. May be this thing is communicable.

Bend over strip tease

After diagnosis, part of the prescription was to have two injections and dozens of tabs to take thereafter. Last time I had injections was 9 years ago. I remember clearly because I got 7 of them one for each a day. I hated showing of my bum and hated it even more because I couldn’t sit for days seeing the treatment was for a boil infestation on the same bum. But never before had I been so proud to show it off to this female nurse like I was about to for these two injections. I didn’t even think of asking for her lotion to oil my bum just in-case it was ashy. I just wanted this scratch thing to go! Pants to the floor, and ….I leaned on the ka little bed and she was done as quick as the itching came knocking. Bending over would have been plain gross. Come oooon!!

The Jerry moment

I didn’t take the prescription immediately. It said 1×2 and 1×1, I figured the injections would do till evening where I would set on the meds. Wrong! I was holding on to myself like Jerry on Boston Legal. Well, I didn’t get to whoop like Jerry, but I  did hop onto the first Citi Hoppa that came along.   Guy seated next to me wondering why I had to hold my nose to scratch it, groping my chevron mustache, all the way up the sideburns, to the dome. Shit was serious, you guy! He must have thought it was my way of holding a massive pee or something.  I too would love to know if it would work. Next time I meet him, may be I will ask if he tried it.

The Peculiar Kenyan

I did run into a quack who went on and on or rather quacked how he too had a similar condition and he had to jipox into a nylon gunia naked so as to spread the scratch evenly overnight as he waited to get to clinic where he was treated for minyoo. For a moment, I wanted to take off the skin like Iniesta did his football jersey after scoring the world cup winning goal and forcibly have him wear it as I try to get back onto minding my own business. I had to get a 5th or 6th opinion on this so I called my boy Joe, a pharmacist, phone held and pressed between the ear and the shoulder, hands onto my acquired stratchaholic mode. Joe read to me two drugs that I had to get and take instantly. The same drugs I had in hand from the clinic.

They Lived Happily Ever After,

That phone call was my savior. I didn’t even bother to get water. I had salivated enough for these two tiny tabs. Within 15 minutes and I can confidently tell you that they were fifteen minutes, I got my skin back PAP! And nothing feels good like it.

That, my dear friends, sums up GREAM’s first ever experience of what an ALLERGIC REACTION feels like.

Nothing feels as good as having your sanity.


Put it DownRedman (Now Playing)

First Encounter

The Mourn

I know the header sounds like one of those tales of first timers in matters coital. This is a different encounter. Its been two weeks now since I lost my reliable K750.  I am on what a friend of mine called kamulika mwizi. I feel Severely deprived. Everytime I want to check some soccer result or wikipedia what I have seen or heard about, I fish it out only to realize the best I can do with this one is to mulika other than communicate! Incase I have been missing at yours, its because I heavily relied on that phone to get there. I had the phone for exactly two years. Its the longest I have ever held on to a handset. It has miraculously survived two major muggings!

The Denial?

Got mugged, and I didn’t feel much if anything. It was the third time in a space of one year! Last time a BB pearl & most important, a laptop went. I just let it go and consoled myself that I was planning to retire it anyway. I am looking for the best bargain I can get on this one. I have drooled for it for a year or so.

The encounter with the muggers didn’t scare me. I had a do as you wish feeling. Nonchalant, no fear, no tears, no nothing. I remember wearing no expression on my face. It reminded me of my first encounter (in memory) with muggers. The encounter that is this post’s tale.

A Brother’s debut to GH

My brother and I are waiting for whatever means of transport. We are a place known as Samson Corner. The place is a Y junction of sorts that has two roads that can take you to Nairobi (One via the rice fields in Mwea, the second one via Kutus/ Sagana) and a third that take you to Embu. It was about 2130hr, pitch dark. Dogs barking from afar. No sign of a village nearby. It was a dreaded place. We had however come from afar to get there. We sat on our bags and wondered why it was called Samson Corner in the first place yet there as no corner.

……..rewind rewind rewind.

Meet Shaggy

Its 0700hrs and we are seated outside a building called Mangu House in Thika. We are listening to the new Shaggy album Boombastic from a boom box of  shoe shiner cum pirated music dealer while wait for our uncle to report to his office. It got to 8am and he hadn’t showed up. Several hours after, I could sing to every word in the song Summertime and Boombastic, the first two singles on the album. We were headed to school and this fella called uncle was do shopping for us, give alittle pocket money and bus fare to Mwea where the school was.

The Economikriser(Borrowed from Asterix Comic Book)

He finally showed up at 6.30pm! Took us to a mini shop, bought for us one tiny kiwi, one small Colgate, one roll of tissue, one bar soap, one rexona(I preferred lux back then), one small bottle of ink, one 100g box omo, small tin(I don’t remember the grams on this one) of blue band, then one oval tin of Yolanda jelly(this one used to be yellow in color, you use that thing you shine like forever and attract buzzing bees). All this was one one! Not one one each. It was one each item for us to share! Yet this fella, and other related ones, never showed up for the one and the only visiting day per term! How do you share that tiny kiwi and that tiny tiny Colgate for a term!

The ‘unfantastic’ Voyage

He took us to the bus stop and put us in a Nissan Matatu (I wonder why they called (still do) them Nissan yet they are Toyota Hiace). “This one will get you to school fast.” He told us as we got in.  Those days the matatu’s were few and the route was mainly plied by buses called Sunbird, Marula, Overland, Kensilver and the infamous Riakanau. By then it was afew minutes to 7pm yet we were supposed to have reported to school by 5pm! The journey from Thika to Mwea takes about one and a half hours. He paid our fare left us a hundred shillings each (atleast we were not to share this one) and waved goodbye. This fella was not even accompanying us after delaying us for that long and doing some shitty shopping! So were supposed to go explain why we hadn’t reported to school the previous day, and again explain why we getting to school at 9!

The Truant Deviates

As we traveled, we decided not to go to school at that hour. One, the distance between the bus stage we were to be dropped at and the school was 1km walking distance. Two, the shitty shopping. Three, you had to be out of your mind to report that late. We decided to go to our grandpaz home somewhere near a place called Kutus in Kirinyaga. We had not been there in several years but it was the best option. The matatu got to Mwea and we told the conductor we had decided to go elsewhere and since they headed to Embu they drop us at Samson corner. You should have heard the mussitations from the adults on how kids had become bad (direct translation) and how truancy was on the rise! “And what classes are you in, again?” One of them asked. Me feeling like punching the fnck out of anyone of them who opened his/her mouth to talk about us. Why didnt they mind their own sh1t.

Of  Samson Corner

Finally, Samson corner. Here we were! It was there that we were waiting for whatever transport….Getting a matatu at that hour, at that perilous place back then was unheard off as we got to learn. It was so dark that you could not even see a person in a white shirt approaching. The only sounds we could hear were dogs barking from afar, crickets with their piercing wails, frog croaks, humming mosquitoes and the dreaded cry of an owl. This combined with the Shaggy songs that were on constant play in mind, as I sat on my bag, my wrists on the lower jaw, palms on my cheeks, with elbows poked to my knees, the freezing temperatures biting like it was its duty.  The orchestra was then brought to an end by voices of  approaching guys (soon to be goons). I could count there were about 5 to 6 and they sounded drunk. “Should we run or what?” Asked my brother who was in class 8 while I was in 6. I didn’t really care what was to happen. My heart rate never changed. I felt nothing. What I feared most was getting to school two days late, with uncompleted holiday assignments (sounds like Mourihno on bird flu pressure right?) The shity shopping, the books, the 280 (or so) shillings, and other effects went.

The End

That was the same feeling I had when the K750i went. What occupied my mind was waking up the following day and facing a couple of some corporate fat cats justifying why the company I work for should have the tender.

The Classifieds

Watched the play Dare Kenyans to Love by Churchill. For the first time in a long time! I should get my theater love back! An extremely satirical play. Stars, Larry Asego who plays a large large part depicting booze loving Kenyans and Jalang’o. The play is nonlinear, me felt like I was watching a Tarantino. Get a chance, catch it.

If you love cars, there is a magazine in a duka near you called AUTOZINE. Grab a copy……

China Mini Rant

…… and see how China has perfected the act of copycating even cars! Not just NOKIA to NOKlA! They now do Humvee too!! How fake can they get? Behind me overlooking the window, they are on the fourth floor of an apartment they started in January!


Rock me – Freddie Jackson (I really need to get rocked!)

Love Zone – Billy Oc(hieng’)ean

Candy Rain – Immature

Trouble Sleeping – Corrine Bailey Rae

The Story of V & S

Once upon a time, (that’s how tales start right?) Once upon a upon a time, ‘V’ lived life slow. He had this job that he reported to at 7 in the morning and left at 9 in the night. He used to take 2 matatus to get there. He worked 6 days a week and took a day off on Wednesdays. The Wednesdays were spent doing laundry, watching movies, or just bumming.

At one time, he was offered a Sunday day off. Not knowing what to do with himself since he was unaccustomed to Sundays, he went looking for his cousin for company and for catch up. As they strolled, ‘V’ noticed a certain mademoiselle. She was fiiiiiineee, yaani she was all of that. His heart thawed. “Who she be?” He asked the cousin as she smiled their way beautifully. “Want a hook up?” He asked. ‘V’ was not the kind to get hooked up but this one, he was going to make an exception. She strutted towards them, face looking like it would take a sun ray, turn it to a rainbow and his heart raced like a cardiac patient.

‘V’ doesn’t remember his first words to her but over the weekend, the first one of Feb, she reminded him of his cheesy and corny pickup line (It still worked anyway). “You dropped something!” She looked around and retraced her steps with her eyes. “No no no!, my jaw!” The smile got wider and ‘V’ smiled on the inside. “This is my cousin ‘V’, ‘V’, my friend Miss ‘S’.

Days went by and ‘V’, ever preoccupied never got to meet Miss ‘S’ much. However his cousin would pass by when he got home to drop salams from Miss ‘S’. One Wednesday when out to shop for breakfast (read chapoz that you would see through). Miss ‘S’ showed up. “Why don’t I make you real breakfast” How could ‘V’ refuse? The breakfast offered in this case didn’t matter, but to be near her and to be invited over to her place was a offer so grand.

Miss ‘S’ turned out to be a good chef. ‘V’ hadn’t had such breakfast since like forever. Miss S told ‘V’ she was a ‘masseuse’. You should have seen his grin. Thinking how he would take advantage of this. She asked why she didn’t see him regularly. He told her of his long and tiring working hours and his odd Wednesday off-day. She promised him she could work out something for him. The grin got wider, it spread from his right ear to his left. On that day, ‘V’ didn’t show how badly he would have loved to bone Miss S. She too must have wondered but he just wanted to take things slow. He knew masseuse didn’t have the best of reputation around.

‘V’ asked questions around and it turned out Miss ‘S’ was a STRIPPER. ‘V’ didn’t however break off the friendship created. He decided never to fall prey no matter what. Miss Stripper on the other hand pursued ‘V’ relentlessly, taking him by surprise. She would wait for him at the gate when he was about to get home and would take him to her place for nicely prepared meals. This sudden interest and special treats left him wondering what she saw in him. His pals thought he hit that thing and gossip folks talked. For that reason, ‘V’ decided to save his face and avoided Miss Stripper at all cost.

This hurt Miss Stripper. She wondered what might have happened since ‘V’ just showed no further interest in her. At one time, a year or so after the ‘breakup’, ‘V’ was having a pizza with a buddy of his at Burger Dome and Miss Stripper showed up with a guy who looked like a contented ‘client’. She gave ‘V’ a dirty look and at some point came over to their table and smacked him with a piece the pizza she was having. Never mind the drama. Its a tale for another day.

To cut short the story, ‘V’ made up with Miss Stripper (He is diplomatic like that). So over the weekend, they were having a drink and decided to ask why she had interest in him, making dinner, breakfast on Wednesdays and doing his laundry. It was then he got the ‘inside’ story. Turns out Miss Stripper was told by a ‘unreliable source’ (read ‘V’s cousin) that ‘V’ was a VIRGIN. She had all intentions to teach him the tricks between the sheets.

I had performed well in the primary final exams and got myself a call up to a national school. But it was not to be due to some circumstances. Those we had done the exams with reported to school as I bummed around not knowing where I was headed or what the future held for me. “Why don’t you go to this village, ask for a school called this and that and talk to the principal?” I almost cried but my tear well couldn’t come up with much as I had faced other ‘tougher’ situations earlier.

Knowing the School

A Monday morning and I dragged myself to the said school and met the principal. It was there I learnt that it was a mixed day and boarding school. It wasnt much of a debate on whether I was going to be accepted in the school. I was given some forms and a list of what I was required to carry with me to school. I was also asked to report as soon as possible as others had covered much much by then.  Those words did not mean much to me as this was not the kind of a place I had envisioned to study in in high school. I really didnt care. My heart had nothing for this school.

The Partial meeting

When going out is when I met a this friend that I have known since then. I’ll call her PP. I was signing out of the gate when she too came to do the same. She was headed to a neighboring dispensary. Judging from how she looked and handled herself, she looked like a form three or something. “You want to join this school?” She asked. I was in a foul mood at the time. Feeling nothing for any one or anything. I hated everything and I was feeling wasted after all the hard work and the pain I went through to score the highest mark in the school. I just nodded not wanting to talk much. I had done enough talking with the principal and the secretary. Got home eventually and just went to sleep feeling sick like I had a bug or something of the sort.

Reporting & knowing PP

Tuesday, I was given some money to go buy what I required blah blah blah blah and I was done by late afternoon. Got home parked the necessary and slept early still not wanting to talk much. Wednesday, I reported to the school and got there at around Midday. I was cleared in a short while and became the school’s last ‘mono’ for the term. The librarian who cleared me called some students and asked them to help with the the desk, the box and such effects to  Form 1B and take me to the dorms. Among those who came to assist was PP. “I thought you were in Form 3?” I asked. She smiled and told me she was in 1A. We became friends. A platonic pal(PP) ever since.

Ice Cube’s Reverse

Back in the days, I loved to rock to Ice Cube’s ‘Today was a Good day‘. It had these good tales and a feel good beat to nudge ya head to. To this day I love that song and will always do no matter how old I get. A perfect example of how a track can be dope with no chorus. This is not about use of a AK its about getting in so deep so deep but in a different hole. Its a tale of more road woes and whining.

A good Start

Its Monday morning. Got to the office in good time I had this fat deal to seal. I had the car I was to use washed and left. Checked into a filling station and fueled enough to take me for a day. I didnt want to stall on an account of fuel and again nobody want to be seen with a jerrican in a Paul Smith.

The Homie & The Bizarre Jam

I was heading to Mombasa road to some reputable garage behind Libra Houze. I was to see a certain homie looking old Israeli who puts on caterpillar boots, baggy and sagged jeans with many pockets. Took Mbagathi way then Langata road and picked some nice nice tea at Caltex in Nairobi West. Traffic started from there. It was around 8.40am or there about. To my knowledge, after the Nyayo stadium roundabout, traffic flows smooth towards Mombasa till you get to Mlolongo. However this day was not the case. We were bumper to bumper moving at a meter or three per minute. Not exactly but thats how slow it was. Atleast I had the tea to sip and blogs to read.

Got to the garage at about 11.30am. Met Haim the homie and I was sorted out in half an hour. Thereafter I was to go to the head office of this garage in Industrial Area, on Funzi Road off Enterprise Road.Going back was not much of a hustle as I had expected. I knew it becomes heavy when you get to the South C, South B flyover. With another slow pace, I managed to get to Lusaka road.

Hating the Police

Slow slow slow slow past the Dunga Road, Lusaka Road roundabout. Went past that and I could now do about 40km/hr till I got to afew meters to the Industrial Area Police. I don’t know what attracted this fella to me but he stopped me, came over and checked the insurance cover sticker, came to the front passanger’s window, leaned and asked for my DL. Checked my pockets and couldn’t find it. I looked at him in the face and told him I had forgotten it in the office.

I am ngoing to charnge you with failure to cally your dliving license” I was not shaken. I was to ride with that 24Hrs rule if it existed. He rudely got into the car and asked me to drive to the station. On a way I tried to ‘reason’ (or atleast I though I was reasoning) with him and told him its very human to forget while hinting at a kitu kikubwa. “Wat a you tlying to teach me? A you calling me stupid? a u saying am not intellingent?” I was dumb founded! I didnt say any other word after. When we got to the station he confisicated the car keyz headed to the canteen.

The Gloat & Bail Situation

He eventually came to the station after about half an hour later with a tooth pick and rolling his tongue under the lips. At the time I was playing brick game on a BB. At the time a call came through on the other phone and walked out to answer it. “Mwangalie anazimu ine?” He told the room. “Awa ni wale wanakunjanga kukuambia ‘eu-man rights and ‘eu-manity‘”  Got back and showed him my DL which was brought over by a colleague in under an hour. “I ndont want to see it, you a ngoing to cot tommollow! and I want a cash mbail of three thousand” He had proved an arsehole enough so we went to an MPESA joint and I got the cash. By the time I was through with all that it was about 4.00 and I hadnt reached where I was headed to, where I was supposed to pick a check I wanted so badly. I dont know whether it had something to do with my swear in this post!

OOOOh Noooo!

My colleague headed back to the office and I went to Funzi road. Called my contact guy before I alighted from the car. “Am not in the offyce at the moment, am waiting for my driver to come pick me from I was having a business lunch!” I didn’t know this guy I didn’t know how he looked but that right there gave me an idea of him. “Am going to be there in under an hour if my driver can beat this traffik” I decided to wait because this was the main thing anyway and not waiting would mean a wasted day. A city council parking attendant tapped my window. I rolled it down and looked at her with hunger pangs written all over my face. She stretched her arm out demanding parking fee. I gave a fifty bob note and she walked away. At 5.30 I called my guy again. “Am about to get there give me atleast half an hour” Amid clinking of glasses and loud music. I could tell he was in a pub. I was about to get angry but I decided I had had enough of being angry. He finally came at 6.00 and I was not going to get the check after all. One of the signatories was not available till Tuesday! My stomach grumbled loudly and the guy swallowed saliva like it was a gulp of uji. My shoulders dropped and I suddenly looked tired. “Boss, am sorry, but lets finis with this tomorrow” I had no other option.

That Traffic Again

Going back was another hustle. I had to avoid that police station lest my insurance expired on the way back and I get another bone to pick with them. Can you imagine taking 20 minutes between Baricho road and Uhuru Highway! With people hooting loudly you would have thought they had sat on their horns. Some drivers coming out to look ahead and see what the problem was. When I got closer I caught a glimpse of the officer who was controlling traffic there. Same same arsehole who arrested me! I felt like I would shoot him dead right there. But may be, just may be, he was having a bad day and was taking out on people.

The Nail, Lights & Gas Situation

I finally got back to the office at 7.30 phone ringing endlessly with questions why I hadnt replied to emails all day. Took care of all that and in an hour I was leaving. In the hurry, a loose nail caught my coat and I heard something like a tear. I let out three loud fucks punching the air and kicking about when I confirmed that the coat got torn. At the time, the rain was coming down heavily there was no umbrella around. It happens when you are many in the office the last one to leave. Eventually got home at around 10.00. Seen a wet chicken? I looked like one. Hungry, and cold too. Moments after removing the wet clothes, lights went off! Undeterred, I went to kitchen, turns out there was no gas. Went to bed smiling not bothered by the possibility of having nightmares. I had had enough of this day. A day I was to take advantage of mzuri Monday madness with Quantum of Solace!

The Closing

I was to appear in court but I decided to forfeit the 3k. I didnt want to waste any more day. I’ll live to make more than that. A lady friend tells me she always has her DL in the hand bag after she went through a similar experience. She paid a bail of 5K. Lucky them they got hand bags to put it. We have to stuff it in our pockets all times! I cant wait for the new generation DLs that can easily fit into a wallet like ID or ATM card. When That day comes, I’ll look at the officer and like Tupac, I tell him to picture me rolling. Someone with the knowledge on that 24hr rule shed light on this so we dont have to suffer the same. Meanwhile I’ll try confirm the same with the people I know.

On the Bright Side

Solomon Burke-Soul Alive Album.

I dont why Nakumatt is selling the album for KES195. Thats on my playlist for this post.


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