Get Up You Little Hypocrite! Go Build Your Nation!

KFC chicken is so expensive. It’s like their chicken lived a great life and grew up in a loving home with both parents, went to a private school and graduated at the top of the class with good grades. Having grown up in a continent infested with corruption, I don’t take this lightly. Someone MUST be behind this.

If a country is to be corruption free and become a nation of beautiful minds, I strongly feel there are three Key societal members who can make a difference; The father. The mother. And the Teacher.

We keep talking about Corruption, Poor Leadership and Pollution of Morals as if it’s a thing that exists outside our windows. We just see it through the glasses. It doesn’t do as much harm to us anyway, right? The closest it can get into our house is through a newspaper story of a land grabber adorned with the name ‘Private Developer’. Provided we have something on our table three times in a day, the rest can go to Hell! Tea for breakfast. Rice for Lunch. And Ugali-fish for dinner.

We reserve such issues as good morals for our idle time. After having a sumptuous meal and lacking a story to balance our diet with, we can think of such then. Immediately after, we fall into a deep sleep and forget everything. Such are blessings that come with a full stomach and an empty head.

In the morning you wake up late and rush to work. You drive with blithe disregard for traffic rules. We got nothing to worry about anyway right? It only costs Ksh.50/- to fix any broken Traffic Rule. That’s the beauty of being in Africa. In the US when a traffic police sees you reaching for the wallet, they reach for their guns; But in Africa, when a traffic police sees you reaching for your wallet, he bubbles with joy. Indeed we have made a difference. Proudly African.

In the evening our news are decorated by hundreds of accidents all over the country. Immediately after our sumptuous meals again we flee to social media. Condemning Bad Governance, Reckless Driving and Corruption. Some politician picks up the issue and decides to get controversial for PR purposes. We hold different views of the same problem. But we can’t tolerate each other and respect others’ opinions. We start fighting ourselves. The focus shifts from the Problems to out anthill EGOs. In the words of apostle Paul I will humbly ask, Ohh Yee foolish ‘Patriots’ who has bewitched you?

The ‘Caring’ government ‘Listens’ to our cry. A Commission worth billions is formed to investigate the accidents. The billions are depleted in one sitting. I guess such meetings are held in planet Mars hence the budget. After all there are no suitable places in our country to discuss such ‘Matters of National Concern’. Then Mr. ‘Chair’ calls an emergency press conference and release the commission’s report. We listen actively for hours. But we can’t tell the difference from what was released six months prior by a similar commission. The only difference we can see is the dates. But they assure us ‘it is different this time round’. As patriotic citizens, we believe them. ‘They said it, it is True!’

We celebrate the most decorated politicians in town who throw hundred shilling notes to youths. In one week, they spend 973% more than their cumulative salary for one year. Oh how generous they are! We even forget the rumors about their shady deals in drugs, murder cases and money laundering. Surely such a ‘kind’ person who gives generously to the thousands who attend his forums is indeed a good person. And haters are just trying to bring him down politically.

Here are a few facts for you;

– An imported fish from China to Nairobi (7894kms away) costs Ksh.30/- ; A fish transported from Kisumu to Nairobi(342kms away) costs ksh.170/- – Imported maize cob from Tanzania costs Ksh.7/- ; A maize cob transported from Kiambu to Nairobi (26Km) costs Ksh.30/- – Imported Sugar from Brazil through Somalia to Nairobi (11,342 Km) costs ksh.20/- per Kg. ; A kilogram of sugar transported from Mumias (where farmers dues trace back to 5 years)to Nairobi (326kms) costs Ksh.167/-

– A Kg of Rice from Pakistan(4736 Km) to Kenya costs 12/- ; A Kg of Rice from Mwea to Nairobi (6.6 Km) costs 155/-

– Approximately 10 people die every day on road accident in Kenya

– 12 Africans die of Hunger every 60 Seconds

– 95% of lethal Drug Barons are Politicians we elect to power

-The social media accounts for the politicians are managed by sycophants who are paid to play PR and bring good news. The negative issues on his/her leadership that you post on their walls are not taken to the ‘LEADER’(Mis-Leader) because the sycophant managing the account stands to lose his/her job. Social media will NEVER solve the entire societal problems in a holistic way.

All these ill-willed, hard-hearted mongrel men with morass morals are not all to blame for the discord in our life system. The fabric of society is not polluted by the misdeeds of the bad men, it is polluted by the silence of the good men.

Well, I have good news for you. You can change this polluted system. We need more principled lawyers, judges, police, doctors and officers. Instead, y’all want to be rappers and IG models soliciting fake popularity on Snap chat then complain about the government from a distance. To change the system, become the system.

So Get Up you little Hypocrite, Go and Build Your Nation! Be a good Father. Be a good Mother. Be a good Teacher. It can be done. But it can only be done if you play your part.

Dear Baby Siz

You’ve spent so many years looking forward to this phase of your life. And it always looked so cool. So glamorous. So filled with love and laughter.

Yet here you are. With knowledge that it’s anything but.

It’s messy buns and messier lives. It’s baggy shirts and overflowing laundry bags. It’s a lot of work and never enough money. It’s freedom with responsibilities. And life is no longer what it seemed.

Different people are doing different things.

Your best friend’s getting married. Your old classmate is killing it with success. Your ex is happy in love. Your old mate is drowning in drugs. Different people are doing different things. But not you. You’re just existing. You’re getting through everyday a little better than the last. But then you have days where you can’t get up at all.

You spend your Friday evenings holed up in a corner because you’re too responsible to drink your night away. Too control freakish to lose yourself to someone else’s tunes. But somehow, this isn’t enough. This life you’re living doesn’t feel complete. Loneliness wraps around you like a blanket you love and you wonder where you went wrong. Why you became different to everyone else.

“Did I do too much too soon? Did I not do enough? Was there a reason why it was never me? Is this going to be the rest of my life? Alone? Unsuccessful? Filled with dreams that never come true?”

And your hands reach out to your phone. One text. One call. To that someone who might make you feel pretty. Who might make you feel important. And your need takes over.

The need to feel accepted. To feel appreciated. To feel adored. To feel loved.

And it is so strong, you forget your sanity for a few minutes of flattery. You lessen your worth for dishonest words. The hurt in your heart, camouflaged. If only for a few seconds.

But it’s never enough. And when you wake up, it’s worse. The hammering of your heart so loud in your ears. A memory of last night frustratingly haunting. Yet another mistake. Yet again.

You scream hateful words to yourself. When will I ever learn? You go over those messages. Those conversations. How you fell right back into a ditch when you knew better. Just for a moment, you wish you weren’t yourself.

And in that moment, read these words:

Breathe. It’s not so bad. You think I don’t understand. But I do. Because I’m there, too. I’ve made that call. I’ve texted that wrong person. I’ve woken up with regrets. I still do. I understand that need to be held. I’ve felt that silent green monster towards a friend in love. Yes, we all make those mistakes. And we all think nobody else does. But they do.

So please, don’t hate yourself. And don’t stop. Don’t stop loving with all you have. Don’t stop wishing on every shooting star. Don’t stop dreaming of fairytales and being as amazing as Malala Yousafzai, Mother Teresa or Nkosazana Dlamini Zouma. You might not always get there, but don’t stop.

You have so much left to do. You have a world filled with life waiting to happen. You have books to be read. Steps to be taken. Places to see. People to meet. You haven’t lived half your life yet. There’s so much ahead. And in ten years, when you look back, you’ll wish you were here again.

So don’t waste it wallowing in your own sadness. Don’t lose yourself to your self-pity and non-existent boundaries. Use everyday. And I don’t mean spend thousands of cash and visit the extremely priced places. I know how you’re struggling to make ends meet.

Do the simple things. Stop procrastinating. Take a walk with nature. Go to the gym. Read your favorite book for the millionth time. Watch a movie. Write your novel. Sketch until you’re better than the best. Eat like you’re dying tomorrow. Call Mum and let her know you love her more often. Be part of her best thoughts as she ages. And most importantly, make mistakes. Your heart will heal. But today will never be back again. Don’t live with “Could-have-been’s.” Take chances.

And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS remember – It’s okay to be alone.

There is time to let your life revolve around someone else. But today, let it revolve around you.

Not because you can’t find someone. Not because you can’t be loved.

But because you deserve to wake up with a smile. You deserve to live life. To make memories so wild, you’ll be the coolest grandparent they’ve ever known.

Breathe. It’s only your 20’s baby Siz.

You’re going to be alright.


‘We Want Love,Not Commitments!’-Twisted Generation

We want a second coffee cup in our Instagrams of lazy Saturday mornings, another pair of shoes in our artsy pictures of our feet. We want a Facebook official relationship every one can like and comment on, we want the social media post that wins #relationshipgoals. We want a date for Sunday morning brunch, someone to commiserate with during the drudge of Mondaze, a Taco Tuesday partner, someone to text us good morning on Wednesday. We want a plus one for all the weddings we keep getting invited to (how did they do it? How did they find their happily ever after?). But we are the generation who doesn’t want a relationship.

We swipe left in hopes of finding the right person. We try to special order our soulmate like a request on Postmates. We read 5 Ways to Know He’s Into You and 7 Ways to Get Her to Fall For You, in hopes of being able to upcycle a person into a relationship like a Pinterest project. We invest more time in our Tinder profiles than our personalities. Yet we don’t want a relationship.

We “talk” and we text, we Snapchat and we sext. We hangout and we happy hour, we go to coffee and grab a beer – anything to avoid an actual date. We private message to meet up, we small talk for an hour only to return home and small talk via text. We forgo any chance of achieving real connection by mutually playing games with no winner. Competing for “Most Detached”, “Biggest Apathetic Attitude”, and “Best at Being Emotionally Unavailable”, what we end up actually winning is “Most Likely to Be Alone”.

We want the façade of a relationship, but we don’t want the work of a relationship. We want the hand holding without the eye contact, the teasing without the serious conversations. We want the pretty promise without the actual commitment, the anniversaries to celebrate without the 365 days of work that leads up to them. We want the happily ever after, but we don’t want to put the effort in the here and now. We want the deep connection, while keeping things shallow. We long for that world series kind of love, without being willing to go to bat.

We want someone to hold our hand, but we don’t want to put the power to hurt us in their hands. We want cheesy pick up lines, but we don’t want to be picked up… for that involves the possibility of being set down. We want to be swept off our feet, yet at the same time remaining safely, independently, standing on our own. We want to keep chasing the idea of love, but we don’t want to actually fall into it.

We don’t want relationships – we want friends with benefits, Netflix and chill, nudes on Tinder. We want anything that will give us the illusion of a relationship, without being in an actual relationship. We want all the rewards and none of the risk, all of the payout and none of the cost. We want to connect – enough, but not too much. We want to commit – a little, but not a lot. We take it slow: we see where it goes, we don’t label things, we just hang out. We keep one foot out the door, we keep one eye open, and we keep people at arm’s length – toying with their emotions but most of all toying with our own.

When things get too close to being real, we run. We hide. We leave. There’s always more fish in the sea. There’s always another chance at finding love. There’s just such a little chance of keeping it these days…

We hope to swipe right into happiness. We want to download the perfect fit like a new app – that can be updated every time there’s a hitch, easily compartmentalized into a folder, deleted when we have no more use for it. We don’t want to unpack our baggage – or, worse, help someone unpack theirs. We want to keep the ugly behind the coverup, hide the imperfections with an Instagram filter, choose another episode on Netflix over a real conversation. We like the idea of loving someone despite their flaws; yet we keep our skeletons locked in the closet, happy to never let them see the light of day.

We feel entitled to love, like we feel entitled to full time jobs out of college. Our trophies-for-everyone youth has taught us that if we want something, we deserve it. Our over-watched Disney VHSs taught us true love, soul mates, and happily ever after exist for everyone. And so we put in no effort, and wonder why our prince charming hasn’t appeared. We sit around, upset that our princess is no where to be found. Where is our consolation prize? We showed up, we’re here. Where’s the relationship we deserve? The true love we’ve been promised?

We want a placeholder, not a person. We want a warm body, not a partner. We want someone to sit on the couch next to us, as we aimlessly scroll through another newsfeed, open another app to distract us from our lives. We want to walk this middle line: pretending we don’t have emotions while wearing our heart on our sleeve, wanting to be needed by someone yet not wanting to need someone. We play hard to get just to test if someone will play hard enough – we don’t even fully understand it ourselves. We sit around with friends discussing the rules, but no one even knows the game we’re trying to play. Because the problem with our generation not wanting relationships is that, at the end of the day, we actually do!


This Dainty Angel was my Eye-Candy.Her breathtaking beauty was divine. It’s not a case of beauty that lies in the eyes of the beholder,her beauty is the standard for heavenly measure of how Angels should be adorned.

The radiant eyes,well trimmed nose and pretty lips brought my fantasy realm to existence. Her buxom blossoms and well calculated gait coincided rhythmically with the Comely hips as they gyrated left-right,causing dizziness as my head followed the motion inadvertently.

The curvaceous view of her back resembled a clear bottle of fanta. Her neck as slender as an a axe rod matched the P-shaped bottom that set the sliding magnificence of her fine legs at Utopia.

When her pretty lips opened,it was intelligence at its best,a true African goddess.It’s hard to decipher how she ended up barefooted in the lonely forest with a heap of firewood on her head and two malnutrition kids;one on her back and the other by her side.

On the eve of her 15th Birthday, when she refused to undergo female genital cutting,she found herself blindfolded and firmly held by six men.She couldn’t fight them all in defense using tactics taught by grandma.The men molested her in turns, one after the other for hours till she could scream no more, cry no more,feel nothing more.She passed out.Getting up she discovered this was done by her father,her uncle and 4 community leaders as a punishment for her ‘rebellion’. All along her mother was outside the house basking.All activities went on normally as though nothing had happened.

The council of elders dismissed her complaints as they termed the act “Consensual Sex”.

What the Hell is ‘Consensual Sex’! To me “Consensual Sex ” is just Sex.To say that implies that there is such a thing as “non Consensual sex” ,which there isn’t.That’s rape.Do not teach people that rape is another type of Sex.They are two very separate events.You wouldn’t say “breathless swimming ” and ” non breathing swimming ” , you say swimming and drowning.

The problem with organizations dealing with rape just teach women how to defend themselves against men who intend to rape them.They don’t teach men how not to rape women.Befitting solutions only come when we address issues from the roots.

Herfrica made me believe that at times the most beautiful smiles hide the most tears.She’s beyond what caught my eyes first.I apologize to all women I have called pretty before calling them intelligent or brave.I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crashed mountains. From now on I will say things like,you are resilient or,you are extraordinary.Not because I think you’re not pretty. But because you are so much more than that.

I would love to live and see a just world for Herfrica run on equality,with No domestic violence! No forced Marriage!No female genital cutting! But if need be,I will die advocating for it.

Say No To Domestic Violence!

She’s got flowers!
It wasn’t her birthday or any other special day.
They had their first fight, and he said many cruel things that really hurt her.
She knows that he is sorry and that he would not say those things again, because he sent her flowers.

She received flowers again!
It was not for their anniversary or any other special day.
Last night, he pushed her against a wall and started to choke her.
It seemed like a nightmare, she couldn’t believe it was real.
When she woke the next morning her body was painful and bruised.
She knows that he must be sorry, because he sent her flowers to forgive.

She received flowers yet again!
And this was not mother’s day or any other special day.
Once again, he has beaten her, it was much more violent than other times.
If she leaves, what would she do?
How would she care for her children?
And financial problems?
She is afraid of him, but is scared to go.
And she knows that he must be sorry because, as usual, he sent her flowers to forgive.

Today, was a very special day!
She have received piles of bouquets of flowers from all those who knew her and who loved her!
It was her funeral.
Last night, he finally killed her. He beat her to death.
If only She had found enough courage to leave,
She would have not received so many flowers today!

Don’t Blow It.Good Planets Are Hard To Find!

At times I walk around like everything is fine,but deep down,inside my shoe, my sock is sliding off. All the same, I love long walks. Especially if they are taken by annoying people, away from me.

It’s Saturday morning at the Nairobi Central business district,am taking my routine walk down Koinange street towards Kenyatta avenue and back.

My Saturday morning walks are usually inspired by two things;
First,the sensational fresh air in the soothing golden rays of the morning sun rich in Vitamin D.This may seem so ordinary and affordable to you until you find yourself in the overpopulated,busy Nairobi streets on a Monday morning,when you can’t even find enough space to pick your office keys from the ground. So you have to take off your shoes and use your toes to feel the ground till you get them.Then You use your two big toes as pliers to clip the keys and slowly lift them to the level of your hands and pick them; Sounds simple? Try it at a crowded City center.

Second,the sudden surge of flashy cars  that instantly change your mood on first sight,accompanied by the mystery fashionistas who instantly bring the weekend ambience in the streets. Again you can only appreciate this once you find yourself in a passenger seat of bus headed for ‘DownTown’ and you have to use your umbrella because the roof,windows and floor are leaking dirt,water, mud and dark smoke from burning plastic. Sometimes it gets a little embarrassing when the driver breaks and all the seats from the back slide to the front and you have to stop and help the rogue female taut to re-arrange them.

Anyway, as am strolling,
One gentleman seemingly in his early thirties caught my attention. He wore a navy blue silky suit with a posh velvet coat and a distinct golden lapel flower that matched his snow-white stripped shirt with golden cuff links. Seemingly he was well educated and from a high social class.

I watched him in admiration as he alighted from his grey Porsche Cayenne SUV taking some magical drink from a clear plastic bottle. Just before I raised my arm and started ‘claiming that lifestyle’ from the Almighty(as my spiritual father taught me)the man dropped the bottle in a white polythene bag and threw it across the street.I was annoyed. Thankfully,he walked away.

I wondered, ‘What is the point of your education when you carelessly throw garbage to be picked by an illetrate person?’

The earth is 4.6 billion years old.Scaling to 46 years, we’ve been here for 4 hours only and our industrial Revolution began just 1 minute ago.In that time we have destroyed more than 50% of the world’s forest and natural resources.

It all started with such a reckless act of throwing a tiny bottle,candy wrapper or chewing gum across the street and walking away.

There’s so much pollution in the air right now that if it weren’t for our lungs, there’d be no place to put it all.

Treat the earth well .It  wasn’t given to you by your parents,it was loaned to you by your children. Don’t blow it. Good planets are hard to find!


And Kabooom!! High schools kids are burning down dormitories all over the country. The government has banned schools from closing in transition to 3rd Term. No Visiting Days. No Prayer Days. If they could, they would even measure how much air one is to breathe. Why?
“To cub exam cheating! Students should be whipped thoroughly. We were caned in school, and we just turned out alright!”
Well wait Mr.Sir, who told you, ..’you turned out alright ? You think caning students and zero grazing them in that small confinement curbs this problem? I wish to know the genius who came up with such a ‘great’ idea.
With this calibre of thinking, am I right in saying that students are burning down dormitories and sparing classes to prove their seriousness. They didn’t go to school to sleep. They went there to learn. So should we let them burn their way into a brighter future? I never intend to be sarcastic. But the world has just given me lots of material to work with.
Mum taught me, ‘To whom much is given, much is expected!’ So am simply doing what is expected of me as a loyal citizen?
I am proud to be Kenyan; deep to the core. It’s the only place where you’ll wake up to the news that a government official has pilfered one billion and states his/her terms to leave office, drops the mike and just walks away.  What follows are few assurance statements by normally an old stone faced official, with wrinkles like a lemon peel left in the sun for weeks. ‘The government will ensure that Justice is served without fear or favor!’
Few politicians take it to the next level. They play politics with it to gain PR. They Jabber their ‘wisdom’ of a sheep in public gatherings, pay some ‘wisemen’ to cheer them, win a media interview where they extend their verbose speeches. The ball is then thrown to the breed of other ‘wisemen’ who are their psychophants to carry on with the mantle. This is followed by rants of fire in social media, memes
#KOT #GainWithASocialite  #Someone(crazy)Tell someoneElse(equally crazy)
#KenyansAgainstThis&That and then the smoke… vague memory lingering at the back of our miiiiiinds…eventually Gone!
If you woke up today with a strong craving for Sautéed Chicken with pork belly. Then take your phone and call Forgo Gaucho. You order: braised natural pork belly, sauteed chicken, bok choy, asian slaw, shiso leaves; kung pow sauce. This should be served with baked organic tofu sausage, asian slaw, mushrooms, kale, avocado, quinoa; vegan house dressing and sliced tomatoes. Precisely, Ugali Kuku and Kachumbari.
The delivery man comes and leaves the package somewhere close to your compound next to the road. Coincidentally a mad, hungry man straight outta Mathare Mental Hospital passes by and sees the package. He picks it up and feasts on it. Would you blame the mad man or the person responsible for safely delivering the items?
Well in our case as Kenyans. We think the hungry mad man, straight outta Mathare Mental Hospital is to take all the blame.
The Kenya National Examination Council(KNEC) established in 1980 under the Kenya National Examinations Council Act Cap 225A of the laws of Kenya(Repealed in 2012 & replaced with KNEC Act No.29 of 2012) was bestowed with the responsibility to set and maintain examination standards; to conduct public academia, technical and other national examinations within Kenyan institutions with utmost transparency. NOT the students.
Now the whole country is condemning these teenagers and frustrating them with stringent rules for responsibilities neglected by an organ/person absolutely far beyond them. Does it mean we have absolutely no faith in the people we have in place to facilitate examinations but we are too scared to tell them? Is it okay if they continue spreading what they should protect just as long as our students don’t have access to it? Are we treating the right wound with the right medication?
How do these students get examination papers prior to the examination day? Do they storm the KNEC offices armed heavily and grab them? Do they beat the heavy security on government officials in charge and ask for examination papers as ransom?
No! No! No! It is someone with enough powers to get into the safe, take the papers and disseminate them to the people he wills. Let’s not be hypocritical and torture those innocent souls with impaired judgement. They know nothing beyond the family and school confines . We all passed that stage when your hormonal imbalance drove you to absolute anger and blurred your sanity. At times you would contemplate suicide and other extreme acts.  Now that we survived that stage, let us not be self righteous just to impress the powers that be, or create an impression that indeed we are working. Deep down in our hearts, we know we are the ones playing filthy gimmicks. We are brood of vipers in sheep clothing busy finding ignorant people who will  bear brunt to our misdeeds. Fire the bullet where the spot is. Stop blaming our children.  Our children, Our heritage


Am tired of this!

Sometimes I look back at the girls I have spent money on instead of sending it to my mum, then I realize-witchcraft is real!

A million complements from me is nothing compared to one complement from your so called BFF. You reserve all the rights to talk to 53 male friends but I should NEVER receive a Hi from any lady. Just because you saw that text from a childhood friend asking how I am doing these days gives you the right to explode and accuse me of flirting with that ‘whore’. You hold it against me forever, reminding me every time of how my ‘whores’ are doing. Yours are ‘Just good friends’ who care about you, but mine are ‘whores’!

I do 99% well but you keep nagging me over the 1% ‘wrong’! You feel it’s your right to get something from me, so you don’t ever appreciate any favors anymore. But you are always alert, waiting for that one time when I fail to do it so may blow up and give me a record of sins I have ever committed even before I was conceived in my mother’s womb.

You keep whining over a dream you had; of my affair with a stranger friend of yours that I even don’t know of. Or that lady friend of mine, the one I smiled at in church, two years before I started chasing you. You’ve been telling me ever since how she is a hypocrite, like I care! I have never asked you anything about her but you never forget to remind me what she is or what she is not.

You need your private time, you say. You have a life, you say. You want to go out with your friends, you say. But I should never ask for timeout with my boys. I don’t give you enough time, you say. I am the worst man ever, you say. Because I tried to defend myself when you accused me falsely. I am a man after all. I should take in everything like a man right? I am a rock. I shouldn’t show emotions right? Yeah! And even when you are wrong, I should apologize my love. How foolish of me to forget this baby, am sorry!

You need to get your hair done, you say. You need the latest trending clothes, ohh and an ‘iPhone that’-never specified because you keep changing, pointing to a new model after buying the previous one. I must post on my wall that you are my woman crash every Wednesday and use your picture as my profile pictures if I love you. But yeah of course I understand you can’t use mine because you don’t want your ‘parents’ to raise eye-brows. And definitely because I don’t look stylish, my dressing isn’t as classy as yours or one of your infinite ex-boyfriends. I should up my game right? All these, and many more I have faithfully delivered. What am I there for anyway? And what type of a man has such a phone, Samsung C113! No man! I manufactured it myself baby. No lady can take such a man, you say, you are just doing me a favor. Awww thank you honey! So kind of you.

I am sorry am a …”broke ass nigger!” because I paid your advance rent for six months, not a whole year as you demanded. I am sorry I don’t even drive yet am always complaining that I don’t have cash just because I bought you something ‘small’. I am sorry I don’t take you out on expensive dates three times a week like your BFF used to do to his ex-girlfriend, according to what he tells you. Am sorry I don’t even prepare nice meals like Quincy, your 13th sorry 17th ex-boyfriend used to. I don’t even have six-packs, cubes, and muscles like Bruce your other ex. Am not even tall, dark and handsome like that dude you had a fling with some day while on holiday with Rey, your campus crush, then had a little disagreement. Yet I stand before you claiming to be a man! Hahaha how foolish of me!

Now you have blocked me on all social media. You have moved to a ‘politician friend’ of yours because he’s ready to pour millions for your dowry. You have gone silent on me because am not able to pay ten million dowry to your parents within the next three months instead, I can only afford twenty cows worth 2 million. You walked away because you felt like he’s better than me. But what you don’t know is he’s using government’s Community Development Funds on you and what am giving is my life savings ever since I was a teenager.

Yes! Indeed I should pay much more for your experience. You need a financially stable man who earns a six figure salary, leaves in the leafy suburbs and drives porche cars having a polished accent to match your AmBritPortNig accent(confused mixture of American, British, Portuguese and Nigerian). Precisely, that fake Nairobian accent. He is your Mr. Right. Am sure that man was dreaming about someone with exact qualities as you sweetheart. You, his Mrs. Right. But for me, a mere village boy, son of a peasant farmer, I would like to tell you of an excerpt from my all-time favorite books.

‘When the hunters learnt to shoot without missing, the birds learnt to fly without perching. When the center does not hold, Things Fall Apart!’

 I stopped calling people who don’t call me. I stopped visiting people who don’t know where I live. I stopped making time for people who don’t have time for me. I stopped thinking about people who don’t think about me.  I no longer drive myself to emotional bankruptcy. I can love someone from a distance and not just about romantic relationships but all relationships; friendly, family, girlfriends. I treat people the way they treat me. I stopped over exerting myself and giving love where it’s not returned. Life is difficult enough without having to beg people for their love and attention. The least I can do is surround myself with people who genuinely love and care about me. Most importantly I surround myself with people that don’t see me as an option. There is nothing worse than people who treat you like you are replaceable.

I am not afraid of my truth anymore, I will not omit pieces of me to make you feel comfortable. Love me for who I am or not at all. I am who I am. My value does not decrease based on your inability to recognize my worth. Decide if you want to be part of my history or part of my future. But wait honey, it’s not you to decide. Today my word is final.

Maybe we’ll meet again, when we are slightly older and our minds less hectic, and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me. But right now, I am chaos to your thoughts and you are poison to my heart.

May you ohh my Love, Wrest in peace!

This Thing Called Love!

Love can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only be transferred from one person to another, with minor losses in possessions. We all need love. Nothing can be truer than that. But we lose it and pay the price. I did.

Have you ever felt it so deep the emptiness, loneliness and cold heart beats each time the girl that you cannot stop thinking about crosses your mind? Is it familiar how it physically hurts when you see her? You can’t even utter a word because of the rage inside towards yourself for letting her in. “Why did she lead me on?” You ask. “Why did she exploit the vulnerable part of me that I hid so damn well?” You ponder out loudly. I have reached the end of the rope I have to move on and away. I am sure she will never return the love she “just can’t” so what am I to do?

They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Who said that? What were they thinking? They must have been high to come up with such garbage.

Loving and losing is not against the grain, everything in the long run degenerates into chaos. It is called entropy. That’s why death must do them apart otherwise toxicity levels will make them immortal foes. When someone shows me such malice I can’t be friends with them because there won’t be any goodwill. No good bits to cherish and live by. No hugs, kisses that are genuine. Just games, manipulation, arm twisting among a host of low politics that present men with slow death and wretchedness.

I choose life, everything else can go to the dogs. It’s not a matter of pride especially when it seems you have lost all of it. I’m quite astonished that I still have my high self-esteem despite it taking a beating on several occasions. I am bigger than my problems especially when they are not mine of the making. Don’t judge me yet, it’s not that I was a virgin to heartbreaks, there just has to be an acrimonious ending to something you once lived on.

Well, this lass with big eyes, black hair, black skin, well curved body and juicy lips came along. The kind that you would do anything to have your way with. The kind that you would beat men into a pulp for. One that you will move mountains to have her heart. One that you would embrace with the force of lightning and love of cupid. One that you would make love to like Poseidon the god, and his Amphitrite. My Juliet. She stood out.

The girl put signs out all over for me to go after her, which I did. Just as you would trick a monkey with a trail of oranges to its trap. Things looked well, chatting her up, making her laugh, and making plans with her. Her voice was crisp and candid. Her true beauty, her intelligence, was my aphrodisiac. Whenever she opened her mouth to speak, how she expressed herself or talked about something she liked, I was just short of ripping her clothes off and taking her like my Khaleesi.

I was many things to her; James Bond, Khal Drogo, Superman. Those orange shaped bosom, that peach-shaped, perfectly-formed curves and her aphrodisiacal aura are to date still immortalized in my mind. I have a mental monument of this sweet and amazing woman. Her patina blew my mind. Her perfume treated any cold I had. Damn, she was good! She threw me off my strongholds. I was in. Both feet. We sailed smooth on S.S. LOVE IN THE AIR. Rocking the world. It was an emotional high, I loved this girl. Then abruptly the ship lost its true north and strayed off course, we hit an iceberg. The vessel of my love began to capsize and in no time. it was to
the depths from thence.

You must be wondering why…

I am lost at sea while I write this piece. Entropy had fast come aboard and played its part. Chaos was upon me while I was busy soaking in her sunshine. She woke up one day and told me she just could not be with me; she’s seeing someone else. I had many questions for myself, did I treat her wrong? Did I not love her right? Off she rode to school.

I struggled to face the new reality. Was it a facade? Was it a ploy devised by the devil himself to rally me away from the faith as I was a strong champion for Jesus? I’m still searching for my bearing. The seas are cold and devastating. I see her and I hate myself. I hate her. My close friends streamed in with their textbook consolations. “It will be okay, grow up, you are a man, grow a pair, let her go you will find another. It wasn’t meant to be.” To hell with those textbook advice. They should have been real with me and told me it’s going to rip out my guts and make me swallow and shit nails. But they are my friends nonetheless, they were there for

I had to let go, so I married the bottle. The classic way. Liquor was my new mistress. I imbibed her top shelf rum and vodka friends alongside her third-rate outlawed mates. I used to drink everything when sad, I am not racist so I can’t be ‘alcoholist’* to discriminate drinks. Well stupor after stupor I gave up and went to church, back to the faith. I by and large was able to crawl forward after swimming ashore. It took time. I had to face the world, her, and myself in the mirror. We met and told her it’s alright she can do what or who she wants. I play for a win only. Where I’m bound to lose I count my losses and call it a day. Who was I kidding? I was dying each day. But she wasn’t going to stop there. What she proposed blew the wind out of my goddamn sails figuratively since the ship was gone, down in Davy Jones Locker.

On a fine morning, as I sat up on the roof of our flat, taking in as much of the chilled breeze as I could. Meditating and energizing my spirit, my phone beeps. I am cut short from my morning moment when I was away back in time thinking about Gettysburg. Yes, I have a strong penchant for history especially governments, wars, espionage, inside jobs and economic crises and love affairs through time. I was in my element as I thought about how Robert Lee and Ulysses Grant threw men and each other’s throats as the confederate and union forces marched on each other to fight for their causes. The path to achieving a landmark win such as the end of slavery, is paved with casualties and broken souls. Sorry I digress, but there’s a connection; my children will learn of relationships of the 21st century and how they are full of good and bad. People rarely talk about the bad, the ugly. History plays a role, to teach, remind and empower. As the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun. It’s her on the phone. The text reads: “I’ve been dating some guy for some time now, I didn’t know how to tell you because we are now such good
buddies and I knew it would bring problems. I still want you as a friend.” Bloody true, not the good buddies’ part but it indeed brought problems.

The problem with me is that I never settle. If it’s over, you don’t want me in your life, then a clean break is the best I can do. We can’t break bread and sip wine while our goals about each other are not in alignment. No sweetie, grow up. I don’t sit in the friend zone to be there for you while some chap is dwelling in you, as it were. I can bear the pain but if it won’t yield anything I want, then I have no time for useless things. I have learnt to see things through for what they really are even before they have begun. I have learnt that those who will leave you will. Those who will cheat will. You cannot do anything to stop or change them. It’s their inherent nature. So the lass eviscerated me, as lasses are known to do but I remained true to myself, I loved her but each time I embrace a hot young lass that I just met, I love her less. Each time burst a bubble of laughter and make merry with a fine princess talking all night about ‘Real Stuff’, I let go. That’s it. To get over someone you need to get over someone else so to speak. This one was a miss, I got plagued by short shortsightedness. I played and I lost.

Attack me for being liberal, true and unconventional. Malign me for being ‘selfish’. Throw stones, sling mud, threaten to kill my dog for I spare no rod. I don’t fit in those reinforced brackets some women have built to tame men. I am a bloody wildling, I work hard, I live, I eat, I drink(Water), I …, yes I love and I enjoy life. Live it how you know best. Be loyal to those who are loyal. Destroy those that weaken your position. Not physically. Kill them with success and bury them with a smile. Above all else, know thyself.

I am friends with many people, men and women, boys and girls but none of
those ever suggested to me, or I to them, “let’s be friends”. We happened
and we love it. I will have their back till I die. ‘Let’s just be friends’ in more contexts than not, is an insult. An expression of despise. The proponents of that mild-seeming phrase can’t trust you with anything else. They would rather save a mouse in their house from a fire than you. You don’t suit their needs. Hold it! It doesn’t end there. What they also acknowledge is the potential you have, they see a young oak tree feeble, yes and delicate too but not less of an oak. They know one day you will rise, they see it more than you do, they see you on the throne, they see you commanding armies. They see people rejoice in approval for you. You suit their lives so much they get confused. The friend zone as a means to anything is a small boat for weak men. I ride on big ships.

So as you trim your eye-brows for the seemingly rich slab of beef with a small mind you are walking around with, know that I have purposed to make you regret leading me on, making a fool out of me, puncturing my heart and pissing on the love you may never find. But I forgive you, the girl who will take your place, don’t hate her or be jealous. What she will be to me would have been you, what we will be together, that would be us. I am not one to hold a grudge. Life will come around and you will not want me as an enemy. But as you do your thing, stop giving friendship a bad name.

I wish you well love!

You Only Live Once (YOLO)

3 am in the midnight, am Skyping with a long lost friend of mine who left the country years ago to the ‘Land of milk and Honey’ (USA) to pursue her grand dreams at Stanford University. She spends a long time telling me about how much has changed in such a short time. Her perspective of life; her priorities, her desires, her pursuits and generally her dreams. It’s all giggles and jokes until she poses the question,

‘What should I expect back home Danstan?’

This question was timely. It came just as I sipped the last drop of my coffee. I felt it warm my tongue and tingle all my test buds. Engulfed with the depth of the question, the coffee sloughed down my gullet gently increasing in temperature. By the time it reached my stomach, I felt a burning sensation that made me feel void and terrible. It’s when it dawned to me, indeed, even more has changed back home.

As men we are too timid to go out, work and generate hard earned resources to give us gradual wealth. We need quick cash. A betting spree has infested the nation, thus leaving our responsibilities, future and dreams to chance, hoping that someday we’ll wake up to a jackpot, buy a mansion in the leafy suburbs, buy our dream cars and party all day and night ad finitum. Meanwhile, we take the screenshots of our paltry gains and post them to our 5000+ followers on social media. Then we purchase red, yellow, green and orange sneakers with complementary shirts and a selfie stick. Together with 16 baddies, we pull resources and hire a ride to be used to solicit campus divas and naïve high school leavers. In a nutshell, we ‘YOLO’! So dear friend, make sure you spare some dollars for our dear betting sites. But if you can’t don’t worry, you can use your fancy shoes/socks/dress/trousers as security to get instant loans.

Our ladies have a different sense of direction, thinking of nothing else except how to look good, turning up every other weekend and seeking men’s attention using their ‘Sponsors’(sugar-daddys’) money. Steady posting obscene and indecent pictures on Facebook and Instagram fishing for complements and likes! A breed of girls with nothing more but a pretty bleached face and fake bodies to lust and sleep with. Dear friend, the only qualification you need is an infinix/techno phone with 53 photo-editing Applications.

Men, what will your kids inherit? Stocks? Bonds? Trust funds? Or the 90 pairs of shoes/Gucci belts you bought?

Ladies, being popular on Facebook/Instagram is like sitting at the cool table in a cafeteria in a mental hospital!

Finally, we make triumphant entry into today’s reality; big houses, small families. More degrees, less common sense. Advanced medicine, poor health. High income, less peace of mind. High IQ, less emotions. Good knowledge, less wisdom. Number of affairs, no true love. Lot of friends in Facebook, no real physical friends. More alcohol, less water. Lots of human, less humanity. Smart devices, foolish users.

Welcome home dear friend!