Letstoriesunfold ™

              A couple of months back, nilikuwa nimeenda place fulani shughuli na one of my boyz, Tommy, tulikuwa Whistling Moran I think. Tulifika mapema, tumetulia tunangoja tu clients wafike. I always arrive early for business, a skill I unknowingly picked up from my old man. Tommy alikuwa anataka kushika one or two beers to kill time before clients wafike, lakini nikamsho zii, business first, atashika a couple of beers after tumemalizana na clients.  Tulikuwa tunataka tu kufine tune some details kwa contract fulani tulipata ya kuweka some serious coins in our pockets with the clients ndio tusichomeke. After they arrive, tunaanza kuiron out some details with the clients, it takes a while, going back and forth, and right before I reach my breaking point to snap and maybe flip the table on them like I have see it done in the movies, the clients compromises, and agree to some of the changes we want in the contract.  Satisfied, we bid the clie...

 I’ve been quiet lately.  Not because I joined a meditation retreat in Tigoni or went offline to “find myself” in Ngong Hills. No. My situation ship had ghosted me again, and my bank balance was giving K.P.L.C. token vibes, very dark and annoying. It started on a random Saturday in my crib.  I was lying on my bed, scrolling endlessly through Twitter, laughing at people with soft lives, I decided to do something I hadn't done in a while, think. Proper thinking. Not the one where I pretend to reflect but actually just replaying movies in your head that you have previously watched. I had this deep reflection while staring at my ceiling, asking the universe the big questions after munching on three chapatis with beans  (you'll have to excuse my love for chapatis),  and then as I lay there in silence  (ok,  there were a couple of mosquitos buzzing around,  but still),  the truth knocked, and it hit me.  Accountability is not a punishment,...

                         It's a classic but with a heavy dose of notoriety within American culture considering the period it was published. You can Google or ChatGPT the controversies around it.  I had my own share of its intrigue when I first came across it, way back on campus. I still remember that encounter quite vividly like it was yesterday. There were the three of us around a table having some drinks after a difficult CAT. Sharing the table was my room mate, best friend. I will call him Y. To complete the table was X, a mutual lady friend whom I perceived to be a deep thinker.  Lying on the table was a collection of three books Y had just acquired to dilute the stress of academic reading. The first book was The Fountainhead. That's the first time I knew Ayn Rand was a lady and not a man. I can't seem to recall the second book but the top one was definitely, The Catcher in the Rye. Y was more into philosop...

             It started subtly but lately, I have been finding myself being suddenly awake at strange hours. Sometimes it may be 1:17 am, 2:43 a.m, 3:11 a.m, or even 3:57 a.m, nothing consistent.   Not because of bad dreams or the usual midnight thirst, sometimes ni ile kuamka kuenda washroom to relieve yourself, ama venye msee huturn ndio akuwe more comfortable, na feel niko observed na presence of something or someone, ilikuwa ina feel something ancient and patient had been watching me.    At first, it was innocent. I had woken up to go pee, then I felt it. Then came the second, third, and fourth night, unajipata you are awake, funny thing hata hauamki to go pee. Uko hapo kwa kitanda staring at darkness, unashangaa rada ni gani, mbona usingizi imepotea impromptu, then you feel that same presence wrap itself around the air like fog, invisible, but undeniable.    Unajaribu kufukuza uwoga, but after sometime inabidi umewasha lig...

  Lemme tell y'all something I discovered, fixing shit unlocks a good feeling in you.  A little backstory, niko kejani nimechill napanga venye siku ya kesho itakuwa. It's around 9/10 pm hapo, niko ndani ya duvet, hii baridi ni mbaya, but I'm kind of happy one ni ju Manchester imenyoroshwa, na Kenya imeweza kuingia quarter finals za Chan. Niko easy, scrolling through, checking emails, sending CVs, na proposals hapa na pale, yenye itanasa ya kwanza. Hii story ya kutafuta shillingi, eeeei inatumaliza! Nimejiambia, wacha ni scroll simu kidogo, kabla usingizi ikuje, nilale kidogo, before usingizi ipotee hapo saa name, tisa, ju ya mawazo ya venye maisha yangu imestagnate, inakuja kukuja. Kiasi kiasi, nastukia niko kwa giza!  Niko zile za Kplc hao, wameanua stima. Naamua nitoke kwa bed, niende ni connect simu kwa charger, ndio ile time stima itarudi, nitaamka asubuhi nipate simu ikiwa full charge. Nikiplug simu hivi, naona, charging. Nikajijazia kumbe ni bulb imeungua. Kuchungul...

 In my days of service I had this friend called Waswa. He was way older than me, like 3 years older but tulikua tume enlist na yeye and we found ourselves sharing a barrack cube. Tulikua 4 in 1 cube. One night while we were off duty, he told me why he joined the military. Waswa was in JKUAT, Juja campus, and he was having some sort of entanglement with his schoolmate, a pretty petite lass called Syombua.  Our boy Waswa was the one visiting her because he was in a shared hostel. Waswa’s pretty lass, Syombua, lived in Weiteithie, in a well furnished apartment. Their relationship was like 3 or 4 months old but Waswa had received all sorts of treatment. From slices to the other slices, I know you know, and if you don't, jokes on you.  Kijana in his mind assumed that the lady came from a seriously loaded family. Makosaa. Sasa one Friday Waswa as usual goes for a sleepover knowing atakula vizuri pande zote. They enjoy the night and netflix as usual until they heard, “Fungua hap...

By the way, nishawahi pendwa na wazimu wasee . Not toxic like how some of your partners in some of your relationships are, just somebody's daughter who was mentally ill. Tulieni niwapee story how it all went down. I was coming from Murang'a , nilikuwa nimetoka huko kupiga shughuli mbili tatu, as you know kwa gari kuna wale watu hubebwa mid journey, so sisi hao, tuko Kenol , gari imesimama watu kadhaa wakashuka, conductor yuko nje anaita watu wengine waiingie kwa gari to fill the empty seats.  I have my awesome earphones on, nasikia kuna fracas outside but I mind my shit so I ignore it, ju the last time niliona mtu ameleta kiherehere kwa shughuli haikuwa yake, alistukia amepigwa Kofi , mate ikatoka na curve kama shot ya Messi in his prime. Suddenly, I look up, and a fine gal catches the edge of my sight, eye contact kiasi between me and her and she smiles.  Damn a fine gal like this one? Thank you God! I remove my earphones so I can see her well. I songa songa as she comes an...

              In my existence, I have noticed some people are eating life with a big spoon, others like me, life is eating us with big spoons (read spade).  Not so many moons ago I was in a very bad fix, big brain, alot of skills but no paper evidence to match the skill so the people with money think you are a con. Anyway, I had a friend who was a donda (read conductor), I know he makes over 1500 daily because one day he told me, I asked him to link me up to one of the manyangas and he told me, “Si rahisi ni kulink  mimi stakudanganya kama wale uncle wa nyumbani  ati maliza shule nitakueka mahali.”  So he told me about kamagera ( a person who just loads people in a Matatu , and remains.) and their rowdiness. That their survival in nairobi is to be likened to the silverback against 100 men. No mercy. Nikamuuliza, because I want a fishing rod, not the fish itself so as to fend for myself.  So akaniambia you just go to any st...

              Nilikuwa pahali, before this guy, Albert Ojwang, akujiwe kushikwa na apelekwe Sayun na the stupid pigs in uniform.  May Albert Ojwang's family get justice.  Letstoriesunfold  truly empathizes with his family.  Tulikuwa tumeketi place fulani, kwa kikao. You know those kawaida catch-up vibes? There was food, drinks, at a place where the ambience is just right. Grown-up talk. Everyone just dropping life stories, big plans, a couple of throwbacks being tossed around, mini politics tukiitana,  “Hi cousin.” Tukiwa tumeisha mbaya sana, after tumelimana banters back to back. Then out of nowhere, in the middle of a chill convo about life and adulting, this beautiful petite lady — calm voice, radiant smile — anasema,   “By the way,  2010 nilikuwa Class One.” Kila kitu ilisimama. Sips stopped mid-air. Laughter froze. Someone even coughed in shock.   CLASS ONE?  2010? Nikachora quick mental math...

          Something just popped into my mind, that made me chuckle just a bit. No, it's not the fact that Manchester lost, and they way their fans were hyped that they would win the game. There is a particular screenshot I saw somewhere, while I was scrolling maybe on X (Twitter), or on someone's WhatsApp status. Let me paint for you like I'm Leonardo Da Vinci, on how the conversation was.  It all started out with the usual nitty gritties, asking about each other's day, the lady asked what someone's son has been upto.  Someone's daughter was eagerly beseeching someone's son to come over to her place as soon as the guy told her, he was just chilling.  I saw that conversation, and was impressed by the sheer amount of effort she was applying. She goes ahead and invites the guy over, the guy at first says he does not have fare, the lady even offers to send him fare, the guy says he will come the following day, the lady offers a movie night, the guy cl...

               There was a rustle inside. The water had stopped. She opened the bathroom door slightly, peeking out.  “What do you mean?” I looked her in the eyes, and this time, my expression was different. The shadows under the bulb gave my face a subtle weight, like the memory I was about to share had never quite let me go. “The last time kuwa na water heater,    design ilinilima ka ghasia venye nilienda kuzima maji after nimemaliza ku shower nilijipanguza maji nikalala the whole day ju ya kuboeka.” Her hand gripped the doorframe tighter. I chuckled, but it was dry, not amused — grateful. The bathroom door opened fully now. She stood wrapped in a towel, her expression unreadable but softened. “Souley,” she said, voice quieter now,  “why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” I smiled faintly, stepping to her.  “Some scars don’t talk, unless,  someone listens long enough.” She leaned against the doorframe, th...

                 I wasn't sure of how I was going to put this, but here goes. To be honest, I wasn't a big fan of cold showers, but there's a certain encounter that I experienced, changed my perception of it completely. I had almost forgotten about it, till a few weeks past, when someone's daughter mentioned something that made the memories come rushing like soldiers rushing out to battle.  I had been chilling with someone's daughter some weekend, doing some activities here and there, if you know you know, if you don't, forget about it. Hehe. Moments later, as I was scrolling through my phone, I heard her padding softly across the tiled floor — barefoot, towel wrapped carelessly around her, and she had this hint of mischief on her eyes. “Unajua,”  she said, voice mellow,  “showers feel better when shared.” I faced her slowly, not startled — just absorbing the weight of her invitation. She wasn’t smiling. That made it feel less ...