Letstoriesunfold ™

I looked at Mohawk and asked him if he wanted one. He nodded. I told the hawker I would take two at Kes 100. The bus was on its last bump as the hawker reluctantly agreed and took the money. I gave Mohawk one stick as I tried to figure out how to start chewing the toothbrush.  The stick had a thick bark that I tried peeling off but I soon realized I might be doing it wrong. Mohawk had already started chewing on his, so I just followed suit. He looked at the TV and asked, “What happened to the TV?” “It fell and the screen cracked,” “Pole,  I know an electronics fundi along Luthuli Avenue.  A very  trustworthy fellow  I could hook you up  if you are interested.” “That is exactly what I need,  would you mind taking me to him?” “No problem buddy.” We chewed and brushed while making small talk like old pals until the bus reached its destination at the Odeon cinema about an hour later. We alighted as I carried the TV with the screen resting on my tummy while...

 I no longer trust hawkers. Flashback Two years ago I bought a black tie from a hawker in town, at night, only to find out the next morning that it was a green high school tie with a school emblem stamped in black ink and a name Brian written at its base. Brian must have been a form one student.  I should have learnt my lesson,  but that  is a story for another day. I left work early , for Easter, and took a matatu straight home. I found my wife seated on the patio, weeping. Upon inquiry, she told me that our daughter had hit our T.V with a serving spoon and broke the screen. The T.V  is one of those cathode tube ray T.V’s  (the ones with huge backs) I love my T.V. and my wife knows it. I can kill for it. My love hierarchy is; T.V, daughter, parents, wife, other things follow. I guessed she (wife) must have broken it and blamed my princess. On Friday I decided to take the T.V to Luthuli Avenue in the CBD to have the screen replaced since I planned to keep m...

31st March,  I was genuinely happy.  I would say, it was Easter Sunday when Jesus rose from the depths of Hades and hell, but that would be pulling your leg, because it wasn't the main reason. It is not that I do not appreciate that feat of having to endure being whipped mercilessly by violence loving Roman soldiers, dragging a cross weighing a ton while being jeered and whipped then proceeded to be nailed to the cross to your death, descending into the land of the dead, and hell, then rising from Hades.  That's one badass maneuver. You have started wondering, what has made this individual happy? Has the said individual landed on a deal, so lucrative to ensure not only his family, but his whole clan lives in abundance and never lacks even once,  as the Gen Z say, kutoa fahm kwa block?  Or  has somebody's daughter whispered something to the individual to make his mood jolly like Zakayo discovering new tax avenues? Rest your wandering thoughts on what made me...