Cat: Where are you going? Alice: Which way should I go? Cat: That depends on where you are going. Alice: I don’t know. Cat: Then it doesn’t matter which way you go. Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.
That’s why I’ll miss Otis. I’m sure his wifey never discovered our numerous escapades through breathalyzer checkpoints, completely unscathed by the law. Mark you, Otis was rarely home. I’ll long for the inebriated attempts to sing some golden country music such as “country road, take me home” that Otis did at the wheel; having arrived at the gate in one piece at 1 a.m. Most times he’d visit my quarters at the top-most floor the following day-break before wifey got up and leave me with the remnant oranges, lemons, gum and other chewables that were myriads attempts to drown the smell of alcohol that she loathed. “Mrs. Otis didn’t entertain edible paraphernalia in the house unless brought by her,” Otis often claimed. … More Tragedy at House No. 352
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?
There’s nothing prettier, Than a confident, naked female. A naked female face, that is. Female face without make-up, Is what I really mean. Nature simply drives insane. Because we are part of it. And that’s how we’re hardwired. But maybe I’m just a selfish freak, Who thinks of the next hike, And hates anything that’d … More Poem: Naked … female … face
It is these little pieces of interruptions called ‘growth’ that actually spoil childhood. You remember those days when you told someone you loved them and really meant it? That age. That’s when one plus one was plainly two and there was nothing to hide about that. Then, the glass was really not half empty, neither was it half full. You just broke the glass. … More WildVentures with kids …
Growing up, i found it confusing trying to get the real meaning of what it is to be a teenage boy: boisterous, uninhibited, preoccupied with having fun with pals; even playful though less than a child but with vigour than a man. In life, it is a fleeting interlude — a time when boys are … More Aye… Troubled teens?
When someone says the phrase “your worst nightmare”, I automatically conjure an image of my phone falling into the toilet. Yet that really isn’t the worst. You’re busy blowing your rusty trumpet to a chiq in that high-end hole where you normally ditch ‘the brothers’ and hibernate to when something oils your wallet or salary … More Of loudmouthed mobile phone prattlers.
You never realise how boring your life is until someone asks you what you do for fun. I didn’t have an answer when Wild Girl poised me as such, just a look of disdain. Anyway, I figured out that once attacked by a woman, play dead, or play her favorite song. I don’t know any … More Picture story: Shut up and fish!
Then, I come from that part of the world where I have to mention our hens that look fleshy, not only to the boys in the hood (that’s me and my 2 bros who always have to answer a case of who slaughtered the chicken) but also to the chief’s cocks who make sure they exercise their curvy thighs by engaging them in what seems like prey-predator skills that come in handy for the x-mas chases that always ensue. Determined to strike gold in the hearts of our layers, these cocks always stream in through the fence we share with the chief, making them scamper all over the compound like stray bullets, to provide some cherished home-made entertainment for crazies like me, writer dog. I want home! … More Home’s always sweet!