Letstoriesunfold ™

Nataka niseme hii story initoke.  Yesterday, I was coming from a candle lighting occasion held at one of the estates along Mombasa road. The candle lighting was for one of my Gs who had rested on Saturday late at night. The news had hit me hard on Sunday morning, like a sledgehammer impact on a surface when I got to know. I am in the company of three people. One friend called Mulla, who writes spectacular articles touching on creatives, and two acquaintances. We had just arrived in town, and it looked like it had rained before. As we are all heading in the same direction, we decide to go board the same matatu, Super metro, at archives.  The matatu fills up pretty quickly, considering it's almost one am at night, and it's so damn cold. Funny thing, the conductor I can't see him. Where is he disappearing off to when the matatu is full? I can sense the growing frustration among other passengers who are also wondering, where has he gone off to?  As we all wait for the conduct...

             The lights of the city flickered like the glow of a restless soul, neon colors bouncing off wet pavement. The night was alive, pulsing like the heartbeat of a hustler who knew the streets too well. Up in this urban jungle, things moved fast, you either kept up or got swallowed whole. I pulled up to the spot I had told my boys earlier. I was always the plug, the one with the moves, the finesse, and the game. The air outside the club buzzed with anticipation. The bouncers recognized me right away. I was the kind of guy who owned every step he took.  I watched some newbie being stopped at the entrance by the bouncers, his confidence crumbling with each passing second because of all the stares he was getting from the people who passed him.   Nikistep into the club, mi ndio stero, We ukistep in the club wakufreeze  tho you see everyone else going in,  lazma ufeel. It's like the lyrics were describing that exact moment. The m...

Denno felt his blood pressure spike. He didn’t even bother responding. He jumped up, grabbed his jacket, and bolted out the door.  When he got to the club, his heart was racing, not from the sprint, but from the anger simmering within. He spotted them immediately—Stacy, looking too comfortable, laughing at something this guy had said. Denno could feel his fists clenching.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, then marched straight up to them. “Stacy!”  he called, his voice louder than intended. She looked up, eyes wide with shock.  “Denno!  What are you doing here?” “I should be the one asking you that.  Busy at work,  sio?”  he spat, glaring at the guy beside her, now looking more amused than concerned. “Relax, bro,”  the guy said, raising his hands.  “We’re just having a good time.” “A good time?  Dude! This is my girlfriend!”  Denno fumed. “Denno, calm down,”  Stacy said, standing up.  “This is just a collea...

Denno was having one of those days where everything just seemed to flow.   He had hit the “Send” button on his final proposal a few days back and leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawning. He had just received an email confirmation that his proposal had been accepted.  He couldn't believe it, he had just landed a big online gig that promised good money and a steady workflow for the next three months.  As a freelancer, this was the equivalent of hitting a jackpot in his world.  “Babe!  Guess what!”   he shouted towards the kitchen, where Stacy, his girlfriend, was busy preparing breakfast. “What's up?”   Stacy replied, glancing at him with a smile that could melt an ice cap. She was dressed in her corporate attire—a crisp white shirt and a pencil skirt—ready to head to her office job. “I just secured that big contract I was telling you about!  We’re eating good,  for the next three months!”  Denno grinned, showing his exciteme...

  “How can you teargas,  a  Baddie?” Most protests or as the citizens aka criminals like to call it, maandamano features a big percentage men, plus if there were any ladies at all, most had a huge resemblance to the men themselves.  It all started with the public learning about the mischief that the members of Parliament were cooking up, thinking no one was looking, thinking that no one would give a hoot.  They thought business was as usual, that Kenyans were focused on other things like fornicating like a certain cabinet minister caught red handed with someone's wife abroad, or night life or as the force that has been terrifying politicians, the Gen Z call it, sherehe, and other trivial matters.  As soon as the public learnt of this mischief by the members of Parliament, a rallying call for each member of the public to call and tell their representative to stop with their madness and do away with the mischief that they were cooking up. Did the elected repr...