When you think about it, most of the good inventions and innovations come along to make sin a whole lot easier, fun and faster. Rat routes must have been evolved by people who wake up late and have to dash to work to lie to their bosses how they were stuck in traffic. Smokers too. Let me narrow the scopes down to ‘weed smokers’. The rest have nothing to hide. Funny though; we short cut users know each other by name; at least a false one. … More Rat-routes …
Is there a queue anywhere? Like at a soft drinks booth? Good! Join the queue. You don’t really have to buy anything. When you reach the end of the queue, just plonk to it’s tail and help elongate it. Sometimes just watching the world burn is what you need after all. I have a penchant for queuing and apologizing, especially when fueled by coffee from a hawker. I’m sorry. … More Sit in a park
Some times, you forget to turn off the tap. Then you go to bed. One such plumbing mistake in a bedsitter would find you waking up by the seaside. Life can be a total beach in a bedsitter. Black-outs in bedsit land? Misery too. … More Once upon a bedsitter …
I’ve just eavesdropped a dialogue from the kitchen between Kelly and a visitor who’s left green crocs at the doormat. I’m not making this up. Fashion sense. Why green, though? Because green is the color of money, grass, oak leaves, and alien bombs. How the hell would I know why it was green? Anyway, she’s sobbing uncontrollably. She’s told Kelly, amid her spasms, that she’d given her heart to someone. The whole of it. And as if I haven’t heard enough, this dude broke it.
What? Heart. So people do that? Yes. Organ donation. … More Organ donation … and broken hearts
Club 36 is a narrow oasis off the confines of UoN on-campus hostels devoted to the pursuit of lunch. Narrow because that’s always crowded, and oasis because that’s where food is. Makeshift food tents everywhere. It’s famous for chapatis. People who go to Club 36 are rabbits. The chapatis that people love to gobble up … More Club 36
I’ve woken up today to some text from a buddy whom I haven’t seen for ages. He actually was inviting me to a ‘cleansing ritual’ at his newly acquired garage (he’s a mechanic) to transform an innocent, fluffy, little bird into two kilos of white protein while coffee ‘brews on the logs’. Literally. T’was a … More Today, the optimism bug bites …
We’re just seated here speaking in turns. It’s a lively pastiche of conversation on anything that doesn’t make sense. Sort of ‘Where on earth did you get Syphillis?‘ and other stories. False stories. The ladies are in the kitchen. Where they supposedly belong. Where the knives are kept. Dangerous creatures they are. They’re rolling the … More It’s the caffeine fix
If you’ve been longing for something more than plum jam on your breakfast rolls in the mornings; I think traffic jams in a Nairobi nganya would be a bemusing experience. It’s always your attitude, remember? Today, like many other days, I got that real firsthand experience on that macabre Nairobian morning ritual – traffic jam. … More Morning traffic ritual … a relish?
Yeah, this is the most stupid post inspired by the video on your right. But what happens to us in the shower? Or is it just me? If they tell you I’ve gone berserk, please present these shower-tweets to the doc!
I think human memory is quirky, complicated, and unreliable. I have a problem with socks. I never remember what, where, why and how. They’re always an odd number; meaning there’s always a pair that misplaced the wifey or hubby. Yet, where do all the missing socks go? Sometimes, in my life, I have this feeling that I’d like to go there and stay there forever. I … More Where do all the missing socks go?