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Nòî

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On another episode of: things that never happened, or did they? Saturday or Sunday, many many many moons ago. I used to go to the bafu na towel pekee always wondering how women always walked around in skirts. So after showering it was free mode mpaka kejani. Kwa buloti, it was a communal bathroom so you had to carry your bucket. Na ukipata mtu yuko ndani, unapanga laini. On this particular day nilikuwa nimechemsha maji niko ready kuingia kwa bafu, jirani beat me to the bathroom by seconds. I left my bucket full of warm water hapo nikiwa frustrated then nikaingia kejani kutime akitoka, naruka ndani. Asubuhi gets chilly so you can't just hang around there waiting ukiwa kifua iko nje, umejifunga towel pekee. Akamaliza nikaskia mlango yake imefunga, nikakimbia bafu fasta fasta maji yangu isipoe, ingepoa ingekuwa balaa. Kumbe she was not yet done, alikua ameacha karai yake na maji hapo ndani arudi kuosha kifuniko. Mimi naye nokatoa hio basin nje nikaingia kwa bafu, this is not ...
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May 2

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A creative like me has remembered and is celebrating when the creative child of the said creative was born. I won’t lie or pretend but it surely triggered a memory, a memory of the day I started Letstoriesunfold™.  Nike should just sign me already because their tagline, “Just do it” I ran with it like Omanyala or Kipchoge. I didn't know jack shit on how to go about it. I just had one terrific story. Didn't even have a name for it at the time. I just crafted a site, put the story there, and shared the link. Everyone who read that first production was wowed by it, except for a select few.  In the blink of an eye, I started creating an audience hungry for my crazy stories. From that day, till now I’m thankful, to my audience, to the amazing creatives who have contributed to Letstoriesunfold, appreciation is in order. I have dared, made so many mistakes, and learned a thing or two along the way. The most important thing, however, is how my amazing content interacts, and continues...
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Wasee wametulia

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Nilikuwa place hustle, kutafuta shillingi nisiiname lunch ka comrades, ama kuwa homeless ju mwenye nyumba ameweka kufuli ingine kubwa ka sex drive ya dame yuko twenty something.  Ilikuwa story zinatembea tu, bila pressure tukiendelea na job yetu, masaa ikisonga mbele tu. Sikumbuki ni part gani exactly kwa hio story ilifanya ni remark, “Kama kuna watu nimetense,” “ni wasee wao hukuwa wametulia tu.” They were like,  Souley wacha kutubeba utoto. Mbona uogope mtu hana makelele ama kisirani? Niliwaelewa wakifikiria na kuuliza hivyo. Nikawachapia incidences kadhaa zenye wasee hawana mambo mingi wamesurprise wasee vi ajab.  Wasione ni ka nawasho story haziko, ka excuses za ule manzi uko nayo akitwekwa na salaried niggas mshahara ya end month wakiwa nayo. Kuna this time, tuko lap mtaa ya Boyz wetu fulani. Wasee fulani wakaamua ni sisi watatutumia kuchase the bag. Kutuibia in layman’s terms. Wamekuja wanatugotea then wako zile za  hizo phone na dooh tuko nazo tuwawahi.  ...
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Weeeh!

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Yesterday, when the night was dark as the skin of our brothers from Sudan, I decided to go riding my beast in order to drown my fucked up rejection because of petty lies to a potential computer scientist about him being the real OG in computer science.  (Man I even told her I was part of the team that almost cyber robbed Equity bank at the start of the year) So later, a my beast is fueled a whole 300 by another lady for the splendid "services" offered by it in an attempt to recollect my ego. Before I continue, let it be known that my wobbly beast rarely receives anything above shillings 70 worth of the precious fossil fuel from our Arabian brothers. So the 300 hundred bob worth of the precious juice had to be reduced to manageable levels, and what better way than a late night ride to drown my loss and to kill the male demon that haunts me whispering to me softly, constantly reminding of the imagination of how great it would have been to split that girl to whom my lies back fi...
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“One more chapter..”

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I was this close to letting go, saying fuck it, let me do away with Letstoriesunfold. Life was doing me the way Mohammed Ali did to his opponents and life  was like, niwachie huyu tu nimalize yeye. Most of my plans had gone to shit, real quick. Those who could lend me a hand, were rare like virgins in this city of sin and debauchery common in this streets. Something stopped me from making that stupid decision. I don't know if it's fate, luck, what I'm building it's too dope to just be dismissed just like that or all the above. I saw this as I was contemplating to send what I have grown down to the deep dark corners of Hades. This put a brake  to any crazy stupid thoughts I had  about ending Letstoriesunfold.  How would the 10k plus humans who have enjoyed my breathtaking content feel? They would view it as betrayal. Giving me their time, their insights, recommending this blog to other humans, they would see they all they did was in vain, all for nothing. That will be...
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