Letstoriesunfold ™

Hii Nairobi kuna watu tofauti, for example, there are those that work hard, those who don't, those who wake up to chase the bag, and those who wake up to chase the bag that you have been chasing.  In the heart of Nairobi, under the shadow of the bustling city, my friend Alan, a tech-savvy software developer with a penchant for pranks and a sharp wit resided. One lazy afternoon, as the sun dipped below the skyline, painting the city in hues of gold and crimson, Alan's phone buzzed to life with an unexpected call. "Hello,  tunakupigia kutoka Safaricom Customer care,"  the voice on the other end responded with a confident, almost rehearsed tone. Alan, intrigued yet cautious, decided to play along but with his own twist. "This call is now being recorded,"  Alan announced, his voice steady, betraying none of his amusement. There was a brief pause, the kind that hangs in the air like a question mark, before the scammer continued, his voice now laced with a hint of...

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...

You may or may not believe it, but I used to work in one of the big bus companies for long distance travel in Kenya as a conductor. The two drivers I used to work with, one was called Nduki Moto Makopolo and the other driver was Kata Funua Macharia and our route was from Meru to Mombasa and vice versa. It was a day like any other, but on this particular day, we bought our daily dose of mgox (mgox is what we used to call Mogoka) from the wrong guy. Huyu alikuwa anakaa elchapo flani sababu he would tell us tunaweza hata nusa hio mgox na stimu zitapanda.  I assumed that perhaps, it was the normal salesman hype lakini  WUEH! By 1900 hrs tulikuwa Embu. After kuchukua abiria wa Embu, safari ikaanza fiti, tukasema sherehe ianze. Our cockpit was one of its kind, sema kaportable mid speaker with bass abilities, madere wanaelewa. We switched off the passenger’s speakers and the one that was left was our “mziki” speaker. Nduki Moto had this flash disk that had everything hadi national an...

                  I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us Can we play a little?   I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. H ow many of you have asked yourself this?  “Am I actually doing the right thing?” “Is this story worth telling?” I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy pi ece.   I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote.  One...

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...

This is a continuation from  Hawker Jameni III            Why would they place such important things so distant from one another? I wondered. I ran up the next flight of stairs, knocking down a couple of mannequins. After asking yet another attendant, she pointed to the changing booths at the far end of the floor.  I limped into the changing room and shut the door. I quickly chucked the shorts and stretched one rubber band, slid one foot into it and rolled it up to my thigh. I then tucked my homo erectus and held it against one thigh with the band.  The bands were quite small and tight, the poor quality has a low elasticity so I added another one and walked out, like a normal human being – relieved- albeit with a slight limp. The bands were a little tight and uncomfortable but they were better than a dangling deek in public. I was so relieved that as I walked down the stairs, I confidently saluted an attendant who was redressing the mannequin...

  “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...

New month, new day, but najua mmeamka na hasira mbaya sana. Inaeleweka, how much tolerance for lies can people handle? Nilikuwa nikuwe on a break from storytelling, chanting viva with my comrades in the streets, inhaling the price of freedom, aka teargas. It all started with rejecting the finance bill, arrogance pushed some to be in denial, while others tried squashing it with gaslighting but it has now evolved, now the ones who were chest-thumping, arrogant, are squirming in the seats. Yesterday evening, took me way back.  Pulled a memory deep from my subconscious. Hayaa, the story goes like this. Many, many moons ago, I was in primary with this ninja, scruffy-looking, short dude. He was in all sorts of mischief but one thing that stood out from him was his tenacity to spin a lie. Damn!  That ninja could lie while looking at you dead straight in your eye without skipping a heartbeat. I thought I would have met the last of people who could lie shamelessly like that, life could...

        I know you are all waiting for Hawkers Jameni, the finale to drop, I'll drop it soon after I drop this. I'm writing this on a holiday, reminiscing about my life. I find myself doing that when I am listening to or after I have listened to music.  This is music music, not the kind that the Gen Zs are listening to, kufinish kumallo, and other shenanigans. I ain't hating, just saying, I usually say kila nyani na starehe zake. My life has been about the good, the bad, the ugly, throwing the near-death experiences like seasoning to spice it up just a bit.  The battles I have fought like Jason Statham, some I got my ass handed to me, while other times I unleashed violence I didn't know I had in me on the other attacking party even the devil himself recoiled his tail, poof! out of sight like Manchester United fans after their team gets thrashed mercilessly. Hehe Anyway one thing that stood out, to me, is the way I have been so hard on myself. It's ironic be...

Under the TV I adorned the biggest boner I have ever seen. It looked like it was supporting the tv on its own, trying to rip off the shorts. Since I was a commando with baggy shorts, it protruded and looked like Pinocchio’s nose after telling several lies. It stood like a jousting lance. Shit!  I froze.  I pressed my thighs together, trying to hold the dingdong back in vain. Shit! What should I do? I panicked and almost threw the TV down.  (I might have dropped it,  but,  with my sperminator  at that angle  it could never have fallen down)  Mohawk had walked two steps ahead of me. He stopped, looked back and asked “Buddy, what is wrong?” “Kuna shida, njoo kidogo,”  When he came near I whispered,  “I have an erection.” He looked beneath the TV and then looked at me, while holding his laughter, he whispered,   “It looks like a rhino’s horn,  it looks angry too,”  After laughing for a while he added,  “I actually have a ...