Letstoriesunfold ™

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

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...

This is a continuation f rom  the first part of   Nyama Enjoy. I parked my chopper and went over to check the carcass. I found it was still oozing warm blood, then I quickly scanned the area and found that it was clear, not a car in sight for miles. I was still scratching my head, thinking about what to do, when I saw Jakofu.  He lived a stone's throw to where I was. He was herding a caucasian's goats when I whistled to alert him. He knew what was up because he came with a major (hunter's knife). The moment Jakofu came, we moved to where the Zebra's carcass was and started to quickly divide up the meat.  I even got a gunia to carry the meat in. I thought to myself, today at Mama Njoki's place there will be an invigorating aroma that will make people's mouths water. I also knew that my hands would be fortunate to caress some notes and coins for my thoughtfulness.  The day was promising to be a success. Jakofu helped me to load my luggage onto the bike, and I left...

This days, I don't eat meat, be it red, white, or multi colored like an army's gear.  Reason why?  Let me take you a few years back. I used to live at Naivas by then, a common hustler in that lakeside estate called Kihoto, kwa mukorino mwisho. Living in a single mabati apartment room posh enough to have a cemented floor.  When I say hustler, I mean hustler or rather what Mbusii says, “sufferer”. There are people who came through massively for me in my life a lot like Mama Njoki. Mama Njoki had certain a “Villa Rosa Kempinski” kibandaski, near the stage offering, and serving all types of meals.  At Mama Njoki's place you could even have a pizza if you fancied.  Let's chill on that for a moment. Back to the main story, I was a life member at Mama Njoki's, meaning it's where I took all of my meals. I could eat, without a coin to my name because I was trusted. You are wondering how I pulled it off,  aren't you? We used to supply the place with assorted foodstuf...

Continuation  from HOUSE ALWAYS WINS 1   Something snapped inside me, I came at him quick, a kick at the groins to buy me ample time to calculate my next attack, some quick attacks here and there, while trying to evade his blows and kicks. Some kicks and blows from him found their way to me, blinding me for a moment, other times forcing me to connect with solid ground eating dust. It was now between me and him, adrenaline pumping, fists flying, dust swirling.  Right there and then, I was certain that was how I was going to go.   The next moment I decided to have a taste of gambling was one year after legally turning into an adult. I had one clear cut objective with gambling, to use it as a means to chase the bag, gunia or mtungi.  I wanda! Like all things in life or in a game, we moved to the next level, gambling at casinos. Movies and films make gambling in casinos look easy.  I could have gone to Hades happy, swing by and said hello to Dedan Kimathi, show...

The house always wins.  Many of you have had heard this statement either from movies and series or from a fool who has parted with their money. A good bunch of you I presume, you may have started venturing into gambling recently, my advice to you is get out while you still can.  My paths with gambling crossed early on when I was young, back in the days when life was not complicated, fast paced or realized that some of your biggest enemies are close friends and relatives.  Enough about that, now where we?  Oooh yes,  how my paths crossed with gambling.  The very first time was in my hood, somewhere in this city, where everyone is  suspicious of the other. It was a beautiful mid morning, sunny but windy day, the sun was overhead, we were playing, street football to be precise, beads of sweat rolling down our heads, back, and arms.  Clouds of dust could be seen rising either by the wind or by us, as we ran, kicked the ball from one corner of the fiel...

I hate sad stories, what I hate even more is telling sad stories. What is even more upsetting, it is not easy adding humor in the story because you will look so dark and with no empathy.  That night was silent. It was not the silence that makes you fearful, no it was a silence that was beautiful and as you stare into the darkness you wondered about your life or if you are lucky you snuggle a bit in your sleep, contented.  The only sound that put a pause of that silence was my phone ringing, and after a brief conversation with the person at the other end, I hang up.  As I looked at the time on my phone, I realized that it was  3 am. 3 in the morning that I got the news. The images I was sent afterwards were devastating and dreadful. No one deserved to go like that. You might be wondering why at 3 in the morning, I would be awake. Sleep had deserted me just like that. It wasn’t because of the cold, or my bed wasn’t comfortable, I just have no idea why I was awake at th...