Vrooom and away!

I have a dream that every child will be independent bla bla bla..Martin do yourself a favour and stop that meaty thing from moving in your mouth.

Last i heard, it was/is every teens dream to be independent. And equally taxing,the parent ensures no such thing happens. And you still wonder why you are bought for a phone and its loaded with credo like once in a year? Why you are spoilt with gadgets, but still reminded that they aren't yours. Well,excuse me but i can't picture mzee playing tekken, Pro Evo or the sort. These are just baits. Veiled to give you a false sense of hope. Don't get me wrong but I really do appreciate the love. Tough love. You'll soon get to the tipping point of this story. Believe me(its not like you have any choice), this 'theory' has legs.

It was time to say bye to home, this boy was flying miles away. Its amazing how GOODbyes turn out so emotional( i'm speaking to my left eye,since it let the man in me down). So mad excitoz! Feeling all tingly...and the world around us wont stop turning tonight..i like i like..that's the Keri Hilson(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fpoIxKkJ1G4&ob=av2e) song that kept playing in my empty(only I can call myself that) head. I wouldn't want to bore you with how many goodbyes i said but i'd love to mention the hug i gave my mum. You see this hug thing isn't my cup of tea,really ladies! So unless I don't want to embarass you or I really love you(butterfly) then no way will this boy open his arms wide. Unless i'm smacking you in the face. 


So there i was in THE plane..and yes i think I almost changed my mind. Not that i wanted to go back home. No,not at all. I just had my doubts about this technology thing. I had doubts if the Wright bros ever existed.I had doubts staking my life to this fat man(pilot).What if he had a stroke? I had doubts over my science teacher in elementary.Why so you may ask. You see, a chicken is a bird. And it doesnt require a genius(me) to tell you that birds fly. But..infact if I may quote him he said MBUUUUTTT..(end of quote.. trust me, its safer if i stopped quoting his 'queens english')  the chicken and ostrich cannot fly. why? well they have heavy bones. or rather their bones are not hollow. The only chicken i've seen flying was in my dreams. So how do you explain to me that this 'big bird', even scarier the guy next leaned over and told me its called an airbus, that makes matters worse, will float in the air like its a baloon. What does it think it has to make it more special than our chicken called kwamboka. Balls? Guts? atleast our chicken called kwamboks has guts for all i know. If was the C.E.O i'd have changed the name to something more comforting. Say like umm 'Magical Flying Baloon' not Airbus..i swear from the heart of my bottom that those fellas who ride on this thing have attempted suicide. How do you experience comfort with such a name? Anyway i rest my case.


So yes it took alot of persuasion from the voices in my head to trust that the Wright bros were homo sapiens sapiens just like you and me. I cannot tell you how much warning and instructions had been drilled into my poor soul. Don't talk to Nigerians. They will plant you drugs on you. I did not want to become soil(get it *wink). Sit next to the boarding gate. And do not blink. blink only when you are seated in the plane?but dad what if a fly falls in my eye? tellit to get out.geeez! So im seated and some random guy comes over and stretches his hand towards me. Nigeeerriiiaaannn....people! so i was like expecting drugs to start growing anytime soon. I dont know if a stare can take one down. Trust me mine worked effectively. The guy instantly knew this is a wrong number right thurr. so I  wore a mischevious smile trying to act like an undercover agent. Dont blame a brother but i expected the naija brother to come out flying through the window. Apparently i suck at acting. Bitter pill.


I don't want to say that the guy was Burundian. I also don't want to say that he would be seating next to me the whole 9 hour trip. I also dont want to say that he helped me wear my seat belt (what undercover agent doesnt know how to wear the belt). And i don't want to know that he didn't understand english. 


The best part was the air hostess (tell me you saw that coming). They were these Belgians who had magical smiles. This Luhya brother has only been served food once by a mzungu and that was in his dreams. So the second time was magical. You dont wanna know how i mistreated them. I could see the thinly veiled disgust behind the plastic smiles. Is there anything cheaper than plastic? Whatever it is I gave them a smile equivalent to that. More of a smug. I had to revenge all the gold they stole from Africa. I'm sure my great grand pa was rolling in his grave in laughter. I have to say that I had a little bit of sympathy towards the gentleman. It was already enough torture to do such a sissy job. remind them to thank me.


I dont know if karma is the right word to use but boy was i in for it when i arrived in Brussels. I got arrested for the most vain offence in human history.Check the next blog for more.


17

trust the village

Last week I took a trip down to my shags which for some reason made my august feel like December. Well, no Santa came down that chimney…errr unfortunately (fortunately) I’m from Africa and the word santa doesn’t really ring a bell unless it’s some knock off Chinese balloon or the pioneer spaghetti in kenya. Also, especially from where I come from, any lame attempt to Santa the villagers and you’ll be begging for your dear life trying to prove you ain’t a night runner. And anyway even if santa existed I could bet my danki he’d be a villain. Thing is, homesteads there are thatched (no chimney there). And what does santa use???think?? Riiight.a reindeer. This creatures would make a meal out of them huts and oh buoy oh buoy!

Its more like an unwritten rule that we/I have to buy roasted maize at kedowa or londiani, whichever finds me awake. But I can’t sleep through both of those towns. Even my hormones know that. They have this very soft maize that gives me such crazy fantasies about pioneering a maize cake..owkey that’s about as much as you’ll get to know of my myotelemoemaizeophia  (I made that up).

Finally we arrived at nightfall and made our way to some hotel which we’ve so frequented that I could smell meself in them sheets. One tinny bit problem is that the place is a haven for mosquitoes. They are one and the same. You can’t mention one without the other. Even sleeping in a net is such a small deal that mosquitoes just stare thinking your high on cheap busaa. They find it funny. I once saw a mosquito laughing at me. I can confidently say that I still have a tattoo of its morsel etched on my palm. Boy did I feel like Rambo.

There I was putting up my net. The least I could was let them do was beat me mentally. So I faked a grim and rubbed my hands..just soo they would know who they are about to mess with. I could tell they didn’t budge but I bet they squeezed their tiny posteriors they peed a little. I actually overheard some big shot mosquito whisper ‘boys I think we have a smart ass in town’. Ill not diverge into what transpired that night as this post has a +80 PG rating. So technically only guys like Moi can see me kando for a cup of tea (I like that line!)

Its always in the village you’ll great everyone and anyone. And I mean anyone. Yes. Even that fisherman whose just from the deep waters and stinks every bit like a fish. Guy stinks so baed you could think he has some gills beneath his netted Fubu 05 vests. From my end all this pleasantries would receive a plastic smile and a repeated ‘vizuri sana’. Coz honestly whenever they tried to engage dialogue in the local tongue, words would go through my left ear and come out the right ear at a higher velocity. Basically I was in a world of my own. Floating like a dead fish in lake naivasha. I visited some of my folks and I couldn’t be surer what was for supper. Immediately I arrived I saw chickens scattering in every direction, apart from the thatched kitchen. Poor chickens. No wonder I overheard them sing a rendition to nelly furtado’s i’ m like a bird.      

Breaking Bad

I have never had the knack to break rules. But whenever I do, mother earth points her finger at me. I’ve even broken the rules of nature. To the best of my superb(pun intended) memory I think I hold the record of being suspended in air for..umm..umm..8 seconds or so. Thing is I was not bungee jumping, I didn’t have wings(though most people say am an angel..aww), I was not thrown out of a moving plane neither did I fall from a mango tree. It was that natural. The short flight was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. The sudden stop at the end was traumatic. At that point I could have perfectly described myself as being down to earth. I don’t know. Thing is, I wanted to know how electricity looked like.


Enter scene: pair of scissors.



Main character: a ‘smart’ boy called Bildad



TAKE ONE: a freakin 8 second flight.



TAKETWO: nu’in..take one took me to places I have never been. The house lights went out, and so did the ones in my head. I can bet that, that stage in my life was where my head and ass were interchangeable. Fortunately the handle to the scissors was plastic. I know I’ve disappointed many, but I am not superman. Plastic saved my life.



The next time the guy between the ears malfunctioned was sometime this year. Not to mention, somewhere there in between I had probably received a respectable number of massive whooping, gotten into fights, and almost drowned in the shower..i’m kiddin on that, how lame could one get? But that’s another whole load of bollocks. So anyway thing is there is this particular event on which I was on the receiving end. Not to mention I was completely innocent. I was a school prefect. And a school strike happened. It was some sort of revolt against the administration’s highhandedness doesn’t take a genius (ahem..that would be me) to figure out that there was no way in heck I was gonna know.

Here I am changed into my PJ’s chatting up with guys in the dorm. Then that pre-encoded trigger in my cellular memory brought to my attention that I was presumably the only two legged homo sapien sapien in PJ’s.



It was only one window. And everyone was running amok chanting some circumcision songs..i think that’s what it was. Sounded like them famous bukusu RnB music which thay sing at around august. Stones were being pelted in every direction. I was not even sure who the enemy was. The watchmen had fled to seek refuge in a nearby catholic church. Soon gun shots were heard. Stupid Hollywood movies. they make gunshots sound so cool. I had to be told that it was the police, was that a gunshot?sounded more like the fart of a giant, say Goliath. Back to the story, before that I would like to thank all those who literally put their bodies in the line (read fence) to make an escape route on thet thorny fence. Actually they were pushed against their own will until the fence gave way. Honestly that was hilarious. I bet they had to pluck the thorns similar to a chicken being plucked feathers.



END OF PART ONE

modern family.

I woke up with a nudge that things are going to be different today. Not to say the least it took 10 minutes for my fears, or should I say vague hope, to be confirmed. First up my mum calls me nigga! You heard that right, she went like, “nigga go brush my shoes I’m leaving in 10” holy cow! Did I wake up in like 20B.C?? what happened to good mornings, not to say the least.. I thought slave days we’re over.


Not being too judgmental I find the traits from my father’s side of our family weird! Or rather it must have been a windy day when this apple fell from the tree. I think its totally cryptic trying to pin this one down. My folks have the habit of putting the fox in the henhouse and by this I mean they vainly try to attack you infront of the esteemed members of my opposite gender. Flashback to last sunday, i'm having my fun chatting up with a pal of mine while i'm seated in the car, until my 'male folk' arrives.
He starts cracking jokes, which by the way were not funny, while at his omniscent new character, i give him 'the look'. You know the look that suggests, listen here yo..its your car I respect that, but give a brutha some space..im a man now.And for my unsuccessful attempt I think i got the 'we'll have 'the talk' tonight' kinda look. Every teenager dreads the talk. I'm made to believe that there's a new twist..they dread the talker, not the talk. The talk is okay only if administerred by a party you'll see in the next ten decades. I'm not going anywhere particular with this story, so please don't wait for the tipping point, it won't come.


                             Sorry for that while, i had just been called to pull over the stool for my perfectly young mother who was just ten feet away. And where was I, In my room, far upstairs. Infact i cant wait to get kid's of my own. The only thing that will lift my lazy posterior is 'the talk' with my doctor. Now this talks don't seem to go away eh?