Archive for the ‘Palaver’ Category


Posted: April 11, 2011 in Palaver

When I first started this blog, it was meant to be a means of self expression and a sort of diary where I could document the cherished (and sometimes not so cherished) memories that I encounter in my day to day living. However, you would be suprised at the sneering looks it has earned me from some of my acquintances (most of whom I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass about). Nonetheless, it stirred some need for a form of justifictaion within me that prompted me to start this other blog ( which you probably might want to have a look at when youre not too busy being a pain in my groin (yes,you!). I could go on and on about what prompted me to temporarily stop blogging here but that is neither here nor there. I’m back like I never left…*blows nose with middle finger and sticks it in your face*


If I was God’s personal advisor, there is one group of people I would ensure never got any form of amnesty come judgement day. Pedophiles. Them and one pile of rat sh*t called Mututho. This lot should be cast to the deepest, darkest, hottest crevices of hell where they shall forever be condemned to eternal damnation and subjected to all fathomable torment. I would ensure that their souls would be the firewood that feeds the blistering flames that burn in the deepest pits of the abyss. And here’s the reason why.

I have always hated rapists. Despised them actually. And no, it’s not out of any personal experience. Although there was that one incident…Anyway, there is something despicably pitiable about any man who has to resort to force to get a woman laid. I mean just think about it, there’s like three women for every guy on the planet and after you eliminate gays, lesbians and Justin Bieber were left with enough chics for every other straight shooting Tom, Dick and Harry to drain their sacs spermless. How lame do you have to be to not be able to get at least one desperate damsel to part her legs for you?! Seriously, not even a prostitute????? I know places where you can get laid for less than it costs to buy a condom! #imjustsayin

But while I dislike rapists, I utterly loathe pedophiles. See, a rapist might be driven by desperation (especially with the present fashion trends in town. Have you seen the scandalous stuff they wear nowadays?? *smh*) but pedophiles are simply sick! There is nothing remotely erotic about little girls (or boys for that matter *sheds tears due to painful memories :-D*) that would justify such barbaric deeds.

I’ve always said that the day I catch a pedophile (whether) in the act (or not), I would chop off their dudu and stick it so far up their behind they would have to puke it to ever see a genital again. Which is why I’m still beating myself up for not being there when some demented scum attempted to defile my 15 year old baby sister last week. Luckily, my sister escaped unscathed, but that sorry son of a suicidal sex worker won’t be so lucky when I (and my posse of heavily built hired thugs) set my eyes on him.

Which brings me to the next object of my infuriation; Mututho. This guy’s paroz should have just used protection. If I could travel in time I would go back to the night his mum got boned and buy his old man a truck full of alcohol then watch him drink every bottle in it till I was satisfied there was no way he could get it up.

After having a rather depressing week in which I somehow managed to lose my girlfriend, my (until then) main hustle and my pride (for reasons I will divulge in a later post) all in a span of seven severely frustrating days, I was in more need for a drink come Friday than an alcoholic in Naivasha. My pal Flex invites me to accompany him to Carnivore for Kitwek Night. Allow me to digress a bit here…

Kalenjin mamas are hot! Scratch that. Kalenjin mamas are steaming HOT! One can be forgiven to assume that the core requisite criteria for a lady to qualify to be Kale are good looks. I am thinking of starting a pimping business that exclusively specializes in specimens from the land of mursik. Imma be a freaking billionaire! Just watch this space. The dudes on the other hand are a different breed. Something about Kale dudes just inspires bloodshed. From the way they pee to how they laugh and even when they dance. At which point I feel compelled to warn you; if you have loose bowels, do not look when Kales are dancing. The comicalness of it will overwhelm you. These guys can’t dance to save their shady selves! On a more serious note, that Joshua Sang fellow should just be taken to Hague. Period! I will personally sell my crown jewels to raise his air fare if necessary. While I can hardly hear a word in Kale, I could tell from his speech at the event that he was trouble. Even the Kale guy I was standing next to was cringing from his obviously inflammatory remarks. And incase Mr. Ocampo needs any additional evidence to incriminate him I will willfully donate my video phone which has enough footage in it to ensure he rots in Guantanamo Bay or wherever it is his ilk are shipped to.

Back to Mututho. So were at Carnivore trying to get a feel of what being Kale is all about and we decide this is just not happening. No offence but these guys just don’t know how to party! Like they’re totally clueless *spoken in a dumb blonde accent*. Well, the fact that beers in Carni go for a freaking 200 bob probably influenced our decision to relocate but you aint heard it from me. Besides, an additional 25 bob would get you three beers less sober in our local! So we settled on heading back to town for some real action which we did almost immediately. But alas! Mututho happens.

A couple of months ago, the CBD would be a buzz of activity in the shy hours of Saturday morning with hot blooded tweens (I picked this up from an article I read in today’s paper. Apparently it’s a term used to jointly refer to teenagers and early twenty-somethings) behaving badly which FYI is the kind of stuff that nourishes the perverted spirits of persons such as yours truly. On this particular mo(u)rning however, the reverse was the case. All the bars and clubs were tightly shut and the few souls with enough courage to walk the streets did so with extreme caution lest they fell prey to cops and council askaris lurking in the alleys.

Amid much lamentation and obscenities directed at one son of Naivasha, I dragged my sober sorry self to bed and snoozed my sorrows away. Pigstool. That’s what comes to mind whenever I think of Mututho and his goddamned laws!



Recommended read:snyanchwani

Hello again. Pardon me, it’s been a minute. The city’s hustle and bustle kind of gets to a brother sometimes. Nevertheless, pleasure to have you staring at me again.

So 2010 just upped and whizzed! Jeez man! Don’t just walk out on us like that! Here one second, gone in the next! But anyhow, that’s life! A bitch with no conscience. So I’m in my retrospective zone and I start to wonder; “what was it like?”

I learnt a lot by the way. And all the bits and pisses paint the colourful portrait that informs the content of this post.


Bro’s Before Hoe’s

Sorry to spit it out so bluntly and in public like this honey but you aren’t the one riding shotgun on this excursion.”… This perhaps has been the most significant discovery I made last year. Bro’s will have your back through the hunting, killing and skinning, hoes will only show up in the banquet. I know it sounds very bigoted, primal and archaic, but sadly, it’s a fateful fact of life. For me, 2010 taught me to see the real ties that bind. (no homo)

Growing Up Can Be A Pain

A pal of mine introduced me to this song by some old school blues musician I would otherwise never in my life have listened to. I can’t recall his name but the chorus goes like: “growing up can be a paiiiiiin…” (errr!…that’s about all I can remember). Anyway, never in my life have I experienced first-hand the reality of those words like I witnessed in 2010. You know how you really couldn’t wait to grow up and be an adult so life stops sucking so damn much? Well whaddayaknow? It actually gets worse! From family drama, to girlfriends, to how the hell I’m going to get my shit together after I’m done with college in the next six months, to how broke my ass is, to…WTF???!!!! The only thing good about being an adult is sex! And even that’s overrated!

You Can’t Teach An Old Dog New Tricks (I’m working on a theory that will validate this hypothesis).

I have a dog. He’s called Silas. He’s my dog {American slang for ‘brother’} and also my dog {domesticated four legged mammal that barks and bites}. I’ve tried to teach this egghead everything. From how to pronounce “thirst” (trust me, it’s not so easy for a guy with a deep Kisii accent), to how not to wear ‘don’t-touch-my-ankle’ trousers and (most fruitlessly) how to get a chick laid. Just thinking about it gives me depression.

In many ways, my dad and Silas have a lot in common. Which is probably why he doesn’t understand why my mum refused to talk to him for two months when he didn’t bring her a rose on Valentine’s day. Essentially, these two guys are old dogs. They’ve reached a level where their rate of adjustment to change has stagnated. Based on my most recent dating relationships, I would say I have grown into an old dog too. Trying to introduce any new modification on what I have formed as an opinion on a particular subject will be an effort in futility.

You Can Be Anything You Want To Be

This statement very aptly captures a summary of what my year was like. If you set your mind to it, you can be anything you want to be in life. There is nothing more rewarding than to see the seed of your imagination blossom into an amazing reality. Last year, I tried a more…hands on approach to life. And I can confidently say it put a smile on my face. I may not have conquered any extraordinary challenges, but the sheer hope in the possibilities that await those daring enough to merely make an attempt overwhelms me. And so I made a resolve to try as much as possible to milk whatever is left of my potential for all its worth.

Chelsea FC Rocks!!

I just felt I should say something to piss you off!

Let Haters Hate…

…otherwise they wouldn’t have a job. So think of yourself as an employer when you get haters. Just in case you get the wrong idea, I’m not talking about me. I’ve got nothing for haters to hate on. Anybody hating on me is one bored son of a bitch! Anyway, this is directed to those guys who always find a reason to undermine other peoples’ achievements. I see people hating on Alfred Mutua because the guy is trying to get his hustle on. The same guys will find a reason to poke holes on Churchill’s brand of comedy when the guy is actually good at it. Heck, same guys will hate on Eric Wainaina for hitting that TPF chick when it’s obvious she wanted it too!!! Yeah, that last one was probably a tad uncanny. Bottom line?…just dust your shoulders off and tap them the fuck out of the way.

Do Something Good For People When You can

Believe it or not, God exists. And he exists in the hearts of men. Over the years, religion has lost a lot of value in my eyes. But my spirituality has grown in leaps and bounds. In other words, I’m not looking forward to a trio of angelic forms riding out of the sky on unicorns. But I know for a fact that the good or evil you do upon a fellow human will beget the good or evil that another will do upon you. And thus we revolve within this vicious cycle. (Deep,huh?)

My self-actualization dream is to provide medical assistance to those guys who lie around the streets in town with placards pleading for donations. I’m talking about the ones who have eye watering medical conditions and have no one to come to their aid. Deep within me, I feel disgusted to belong to a society that tolerates such blatant disregard for one another’s plights. Very few things move me but these particular cases touch me in the deepest, most sentimental crannies of my being.

Happy 2011.



Ps: Do you think any of my future bosses reads this blog? I’ve heard nowadays employers examine any potential employees’ internet profiles before hiring them. Is that true? If the answer to any of the two questions is in the affirmative then I guess I’m screwed, aren’t I?

Happy New Year

Posted: December 29, 2010 in In Living Memory, Palaver

2010 is dead and gone. 2011 is calling on us…like a virgin waiting to be deflowered. One of my New year’s resolutions is to slave my ass off to ensure this blog becomes a lifeline to other demented sociopaths like yours truly. And that my friends, is one resolution I intend to fulfill come sh*t or piss!

In the meantime, here’s to hoping you had a good 2010 and to wish that 2011 will be even more awesome! Do Mary and make merry…as long as you don’t indulge in anything that might lead you to stick a phone up your rear like that guy from Naivasha.(I have no idea where that came from).



Posted: September 15, 2010 in Palaver

“Good morning class, take out your writing books and calculators, LUV 101 is in session.”

This business of courtship is a tricky business. It is a business that requires a great deal of keenness to understand. I have tried engaging in it severally with varying results. Some have been good, most have been bad. But it is a business that all of us in one way or another are obliged to undertake. Which is why I feel duty-bound to share with you a few pointers on how to approach it.

Just like any business, this business of courtship is a competitive one. After all we do live in a Capitalistic world, don’t we? It’s called a free open market. Everyone is free to engage in any business they desire and the market is always open to new investors. It works a lot like tendering. When a business opportunity is available, the tendering committee announces to potential investors who then present their bids in the most enticing manner possible. Whoever proves to be the most alluring lands the deal.

Like most lucrative businesses, this business of courtship can be quite demanding. It requires a large capital investment to initiate. I will explain.

Capital is a crucial necessity for anyone intending to start a business. There are various types of capital. These include finance, labour and what-have-you.

Financial capital is the primary factor that an investor considers before venturing into any business enterprise. You must ask yourself; How much money is needed to start this business? Do I have such an amount of money? If yes, you are good to go. If not, then its best to withdraw before your goose gets cooked! Similarly, before deciding whether or not to initiate advances on a potential mate (I like the word ‘mate’ in this context; It basically summarizes everything relationships are about in two syllables, if you know what I mean.) one must evaluate how much financial investment such a venture would require.

To do this, examine the potential mate (alternatively referred to as ‘business’). If he/she/it adorns garments and you merely wear clothes, then you are incapable of running such a business. If the business is of large scale proportions and you can only be able to manage a small scale one, I advise that you reconsider your options. If the business is located in Upper Hill and you are clearly a River Road kind of person, don’t even bother about it. Because if you do, you will learn, much to your heartbreak why they say ‘mtu hujikuna afikapo’!

Then there is labour. Again, one needs to analyze a few factors here. How much labour is required? How much labour can you provide? To put it perspective, you must be able to meet the labour needs of your undertaking. If you are attempting to till a five hundred acre shamba with one jembe and panga don’t be surprised to find your neighbor having ploughed, planted and harvested in one corner of the shamba while you were busy working on the other. If you are understaffed, don’t be amazed if your customers knock on your doorstep every now and then to complain about the slowness of your services.

In this business of courtship, there are two categories of investors. There are direct investors and there are indirect investors. Direct investors are those who dig deep into their pockets to raise the capital to start the business. They take a lot of risk in such ventures and as such are keen to ensure that they get commensurate returns. However, in the event that the business should collapse or backfire, they stand to lose the most.

On the other hand, indirect investors operate on minimum risk. They only invest in those businesses which they feel will guarantee returns and even then, their involvement is highly precautious. Indirect investors prefer to wait until the business has been fully established (by the direct investors) before coming on board. If the business proves to be rewarding, they consistently buy small amounts of shares until eventually they end up buying out the original owners.

But like any other business, this business of courtship is ultimately about returns. Think profits and losses. If a business is creating losses, it is a bad business and only a fool would continue running it. Conversely, if it is raking in profits, it is a good business and only a bigger fool would want to shut it down. To ascertain whether a business is making losses or profits, a good investor must always keep a Profit and Loss account of the business. This will guide the investor to discern how practical the business is.

There are several indicators that measure the productivity of a business. If the business is consuming more than it is returning, it is making a loss and must be terminated. But if the rate of return of the business multiplied by the value of returns is equivalent to the total capital input, then the business is making a profit and should be registered as a sole proprietorship to keep away any lurking opportunistic indirect investors.

Class dismissed.


Posted: September 12, 2010 in Palaver

I was trying to bed a certain lady some time back when she asked me a rather intrusive question, but one that stimulated my mind and compelled me to think about a thing or two that inform the content of this post. She posed: “How many women have you had sex with?”

It’s a good thing my mum is semi-computer literate hence doesn’t even have a clue of what a blog is because she would disown me if she found out that I was unable to answer that question with the immediacy it demanded. Quite frankly, I still haven’t managed to come up with a precisely accurate answer to date. Anyway, I am not the focus of what I am about to discuss.

For starters, the said lady was entirely out of turn to enquire about my sexual dealings. As far as I was concerned, I had neither proposed to her nor was I intending to have unprotected sex with her so she had no ground to demand such private information. Needles to say, I kicked her out there and then. I can get far much better sex from the palm of my hand without having to tolerate such blatant infringement on my right to privacy. So sue me!

On to my next point. Repercussions. Assuming I had answered her question promptly, what consequences would I have had to bear? Depending on the nature of my answer, it would have either been embarrassment or dismissal. Simply because there is no standard answer to such a question.

Take for instance if I had said ‘one’ (and I’ll be damned if there’s any man my age – apart from my eunuch room mate – who would subscribe to that answer). One of two things would have happened. She would either have put her panties back on and stormed out in a huff (dismissal for me) or more appropriately, laughed at me in my face (totally embarrassing).

On the other hand, if I’d have answered ‘a hundred’ (FYI, I haven’t hit that mark yet but I’m steadily getting there – Onyancha style) her reaction would have been more or less the same only the basis would be reversed. She would either have high tailed it in fear of her life (embarrassing) or roundly rebuked me like I was the personification of the devil (and since I won’t be getting any at the end of it, that’s definite dismissal). Which brings about a rather complex dilemma. What should have been the right answer?

Ask any man this question and I guarantee eight out of ten answers will differ. Because there is no accepted standard. For women, it’s much simpler. Any woman who has slept with more than three men is loosely considered…well, loose. The first guy is usually the one who breaks her virginity. Unless he is remarkably gentle he will in most cases be condemned to that singular encounter at least until another guy has tasted the cookies in the jar. The good thing about being a ‘first’ is that most women always have an involuntary attachment to you. No matter how virtuous a woman is, she will more often than not fall back into her first man’s bed at the slightest prodding and beckoning. Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who programmed you to attach emotions to meaningless sex!

The second man is for experience. Once that hymen is out of the way, women begin to enjoy sex and since this usually happens during the late teenage years, they still have this misguided notion that having sex is an expression of love. I hate to be the one to break it to you but sex is just that, Sex. So while they’re busy looking for new ways to ‘show how much they love’ their man, he’s thoroughly enjoying himself but conscious of the fact that one of these days she will have to hit the highway.

The next man for any woman is her husband. At this point they have gained enough sexual and emotional experience to tell right from wrong and after eliminating the unworthy candidates they settle for a ‘Prince Charming’ who sweeps them off their feet and whisks them to a white castle where they live happily ever after. Ideally, any woman who does not conform to this three step program is not what you would consider a good girl.

For men however, things are less systematic and more random. To a man, losing virginity is like opening a Pandora’s box. They want to keep looking for what’s inside and so end up digging deeper and deeper (forgive the pun) into the bottomless pit (don’t forgive the pun!). A man’s level of experience is measured through his direct encounters including but by no means limited to masturbation. I will refrain from expounding on that point.

To a man, keeping tabs of one’s encounters can at times prove to be a tricky affair. For the first few times one is usually so excited to be having sex for it to even count as an actual encounter.

Additionally, the opportunities of having sex are so rare and spaced that one does not get the necessary skills to graduate from an amateur to an expert. Therefore the first few encounters don’t count for a man because they are considered as dry runs. Once the level of ‘sexpert’ has been attained, a man needs regular exercise and practice to keep his game up. Thus, he is allowed to explore the waters until he can find the right harbour to weigh anchor. Think of it this way, a man can be several women’s first and/or second but only one woman’s third. It is therefore important for a man to get enough experience to satiate his wife without needing to look elsewhere. So essentially, we do it for you.

So guys, if ever a chick pops such a question on you, try turning the tables on her and ask her the question. That way you’ll get an idea of the right answer to give without running the risk of missing out on an easy lay.

Dedicated to my gay eunuch room mate! mscheeeew!

Since time in memorial, women have traditionally taken the back seat when set against their opposite gender, hence they are christened ‘the weaker sex’. However, over the past few years, this tide has constantly been taking a dfifferent direction, much to the chagrin of the menfolk.

Be it in academic, corporate, political or social circles, todays woman is steadily asserting her stance by embracing roles that have hitherto been reserved for men. And theyre not doing so by seeking any favours. It’s either their way or the highway.

In the African setting, men have always been the heads of households, taking on the more ‘challenging’ roles in the family while the women are bestowed the ‘less demanding’ responsibilities. In other words, men put the food on the table and the women served it.

However, since the turn of the century, more and more women have arisen to take the driving seat in their respective fields. Lead by the likes of Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Oprah Winfrey, Tyra Banks, Esther Passaris and Congestina Achieng’, many a woman are stealthily sidestepping the roles of men in the comtemporary world.

Today, it is common for women to challenge men for political positions as evidenced by Charity Ngilu, Martha Karua and Hillary Clinton who got a considerable amount of success in her quest for the U.S Presidency.

But perhaps the most succesful area of conquest for the womenfolk is in the corporate arena where they have stamped most authority in their enterpreneural endeavours. Martha Stewart, Oprah Winfrey and our own Esther Passaris are just a few of the numerous women who have demonstrated their rogue business skills and proceeded to build massive business empires.

In the office, academically empowered women pose a constant threat to the chauvinistic men who believe they are entitled to senior positions by virtue of their gender.They are forced to battle it out against their women counterparts who now enjoy a level playground. And if Carol Mutoko and (c.e.o keroche) are anything to go by, women are giving men a serious run for their money.

Such is the success of women empowerment that they have practically changed the nature of man-woman relationships as we have always known them. Forget about going dutch, women practically wear the pants in modern day relationships. Infact, some men have been relegated to being house-bands who stay at home and tend to house chores while their wives go to work. It’s like they are intent on proving that whatever a man can do, a woman can do better. With this state of affairs, it is uncommon to hear of men being battered by their wives (hence the need for Maendeleo ya Wanaume), something that sounded like taboo not many years ago.

This growing trend seems to be giving alot of men sleepless nights especially with the possibility of having artificially generated sperms. Basic biology tells you that sooner or later, women will render men redundant and drive them to certain extinction. And the fact that a growing number of men are reconnecting with their feminine side by turning gay doesn’t help either.

Hard as it may seem, men have little option but to adjust to the changing status quo in society. Gone are the days when they had it all for granted. No longer are some duties and positions reserved for men. Today, it’s simply a matter of who does it best wins the race. And by the look of things, women seem to be winning at an impressive rate.

The onus is now upon the younger generation of women to sustain the standards set by the current generation. You can rest assured that men will not be taking the onslaught lying down and (hopefully) sooner rather than later, they are bound to up their game in retaliation. Only time will tell whether or not the women will live up to the massive expectations but given the zeal and ambition they have exhibited so far, im not betting any of my money against them.

Owing to Hillary Clinton’s visit to Kenya, alot was done to beautify the city in preparation for her highly publicised visit to the country. The concerned authorities went out of their way to ensure that they literally left no stone unturned in an attempt to create a perfect image of Kenya. Roads were scrubbed clean, stones painted, grass manicured and buildings redecorated to ensure that ‘Mama Chelsea’ saw how beautiful Nairobi is, although this is far from what the city usually looks like.

One radio presenter quipped that after all these efforts, anyone who so much as wore the wrong coloured shirt within her vicinity or was caught with a strand of uncombed hair would suffer the consequences for ‘tarnishing our image’. I’ll bet those attending to the high profile entourage even had to buy a new pair of underwear to ensure they measured up to these high standards.

While many were complaining about the excentricism of such actions, it is foolhardy to suggest that this is a new phenomenon among Kenyans. Many a time we go out of our way to impress even though our normal behaviour and appearance is a far cry from what we potray.

For instance, when a lady is visiting for the first time, men go beyond their limits to ensure that everything is in order in the house to create the image of a responsible and tidy bachelor when in reality, this is often the exception rather than the norm. In this case you will see a man busy making the bed, cleaning last month’s utensils and folding a heap (of usually uncleaned) clothes often within the last hour of the anticipated guest’s arrival. Should she decide to pop in earlier than expected then they find themselves in a rather precarious position where the usual escape is to blame it on the non-existent roommate or the cleaning lady. Which is why bachelors are usually strict with time when it comes to dates.

Or like how our mothers buy a beautiful set of utensils that always decorate the wall unit only to be used when ‘important guests’ visit our homes. Of course the next door neighbour and mother-in-law do not fall under this privileged category so woe unto you if you are caught using them on such ‘common people’. Thus we are forced to use plastic or aluminium plates on a daily basis but when the ‘important guests’ come over, the porcelain and China plates are conveniently removed from the cupboard and set on the dining table which is hardly ever used as well. On this day the children are forcefully bathed and the househelp is given strict orders not to set foot in the living room so as not to embarass the hosts.

It is therefore safe to say that it’s our nature as Kenyan’s to want to look good on the surface and keep our shortcomings and inadequacies to ourselves. How I wish Hillary would be visiting more regularly so that there would be less traffic jams on our roads and our buildings would look stunning all the time. If we were to have dignitaries visiting Kenya on a monthly basis, we might actually achieve Vision 2030 before the next General elections.