Dreams like vodka

A goat, a kid and some chaos

They come in all shapes and sizes, oh and ages too. They are all diversified, a smorgasbord of personalities and different backgrounds. Am talking about the nannies, and no not the nanny goat but the people we entrust to take care of our kids, or most peoples kids, and again with emphasis I do not mean a goats kid. I have a feeling this article will have plenty of these creatures. I cannot believe how much we share in terms of names with goats. An interesting discovery that I must admit has no value addition whatsoever.

Over the last few months

I have seen them come and go that I lost count. The turnover rate I have experienced is petrifying.

I will go to the genesis of all this, the Neil Armstrong of them all, the first to land in our house. She was an elderly woman, backed by a wealth of testimonies of how good she is with kids. She and the baby clicked on sight making her plausible chest thumping seem somehow believable.

All was going well until the mum had to go back to her job. Waking up early for this lady turned out to be a big hustle and I quote not part of what she had signed up for. I recall too vividly the events of that morning; I was at the breakfast table taking some tea when she was woken up. My sister walked up to her door, knocked and called out her name. I could hear some groaning behind the door, a short scuffle then a complaining voice "ndigehota", which translates to I cannot handle this task. She went on lamenting about the job and how we should find another person to give this cup of suffering. I understand how serious the situation was but I almost burst out a spray of tea from my mouth in laughter. She took her time and when she finally made up her mind to get up, she was like a rattled snake waiting for the slightest provocation to throw her venomous utterances. Reading her mood too well, we denied her that satisfaction and kept out of her way. She adjusted her waking up time and could now manage to get up on her own, a resolve she made I presumed. Trouble started when she went home for the weekend and did not return until Monday morning. Eventually we had to cut her lose.

Enter patient B, a modest lady in her late forties. She was meticulous in her tasks and had chemistry with the baby. And how can I forget her cooking, she threw my stomach into a fiesta. My stomach really warmed up to her, after her meals I couldn’t even feel my stomach (I forgot I had one till the next meal), it was in a perfect bliss. She was also neat and organised. She was like a mother to us that we almost referred to her as mum. So what was her Achilles heel you might ask? Brace yourself for this one; for if I weren’t there to witness it I would say that we were just out there to pick on a nice lady. It started on one weekend when her mum got sick; we understood and gave her some sort of leave. After that incident, every time she went on her weekend leave, something had to happen and I can say this with certainty. On one weakened while at home, she tripped and fell injuring her hand. The funny thing was that her fun was off until she managed to come back mid-week. When questioned on why her phone was off, she gave such an explanation that left you squinting in disbelief. Apparently she tripped and fell on her mobile phone damaging it. It was humanly possible and we gave her the benefit of doubt. The next weekend she was on to her habits again, this time her mother was sick again. We were curious and sympathetic until we enquired what she was diagnosed with. She had been diagnosed with some muscle pains after being rammed by a goat while untying it. I kid you not; my imagination does not allow me to come up with such creativity. And this went on, until one weekend she went home and never to return. She just called a month later to asking whether she should resume her job. Unbelievable.

Enter patient 3, aka the biggest mistake. When I say the biggest mistake, I not only imply how big of a mistake this was but also to her colossal size. She had a huge torso that started immediately beneath her head with no sign of a neck at all. Her body was cylindrical and her movements were slow. She had two missing front teeth altering her pronunciation. So instead of calling the baby Vanessa, she called her Vanetha...poor thing. Her cooking was ghastly and her sense of style in terms of how she dressed the baby was worse. For some reason, her hands were always moist passing on this to the baby whose clothes were always soggy. Even the baby protested her presence. She lasted five working days, and when she was being dismissed my sister insisted on the presence of at least three people in case she went rogue and we had to calm her down.

The next to come would have to be an improvement compared to the big mistake. And she really was. She was much younger, in her early thirties I my judgement is anything to go by. She was hardworking and a bit too passionate with the baby but I shall get to that. She was talkative and engaged us in lots of conversations. She narrated her encounters in Saudi Arabia and why she had returned. Her cooking was tolerable and the only complain was how cold it got, but that was a non-issue. As time passed, her true colours began to show from her deep layer of cover up. She started making such comments about taking the baby on long trips that first went unnoticed. Eventually we started taking note of it. She also made her calls far away from the house such that we dint have a clue to whatever she was saying. She would feed the baby in the evening so that she did not breastfeed anymore. She would be full and sleepy by the time her mom got home. She was also a drama queen and her acting skills could have won her an Oscar.

One Monday morning she came knocking at our door at five in the morning after she had gone on her weekend leave and failed to come back on Sunday evening as agreed. She had deep scarlet lipstick and some clinging denim pants and a chiffon top. It was as if she had spent the night in a club. Upon letting her in, she changed and started on the few dirty dishes that were in the sink. At my usual spot at the breakfast table, I witnessed yet another startling incident. My sister asked her where she was coming from, and she started on this horrifying explanation of how her husband had died in an accident and her son was hospitalized. Mid between her story, she broke down weeping. She got overwhelmed and she could no longer contain herself, she raced into her room and closed the door behind her. We could still hear her sobbing behind the shut door. I just sat there trying to comprehend what happened, confused as to how to console her. My siz shared in this confusion, we just stood there fixated, no words coming out of our mouths. That whole week we anticipated for her to ask for a leave and attend the funeral but alas the shock was on us. She had forgotten about the incident. Days passed and she was now telling us that she was disturbed as she dint know where her son was. On enquiry, she revealed that her husband had taken him. We exchanged a glance with my siz, confirming that we had both heard what she had said. Deep inside I was asking myself a rhetorical question, isn’t he supposed to be dead. We let that pass, but she too had to go.

Enter exhibit 4, the petty little thief. She was little as the name suggests. She was short and had had a bob cut trim for her hair that was dyed brown at the top. This gave her a sort of a bad-girl look although she did look like a high school student going by her size. So when she announced she had a child we all gasped in disbelief. That was one evening at our parents’ house when we had gone to visit. She was very good with the baby and that was all that really mattered. Trouble started one Sunday evening while was away on weekend leave. I was just about to drop some coins into my piggy bank when its weight suddenly did not make sense. Upon closer examination, someone had broken into it and taken out my entire coin savings. Its lock was completely destroyed. I raised the issue with my siz and to her surprise someone had broken into hers as well. From that moment we started being keen and noticed some other things that were missing. My memory card from my tablet and one of my favorite watches had gone missing. We asked her if she had anything to do with it and she quickly denied having any connection in it. I would not let the issue of my watch rest, I searched the entire house and even tried to recall he last time I wore it. When she saw I was not relenting, she called my sister into her room where it had suddenly and miraculously appeared on her curtain box.

In the coming weeks stuff that had gone missing and we had enquired about started appearing in weird places. My memory card was not one of them. One last Saturday morning as she had gone to unlock the gate, she left her phone on the table. I did not hesitate to check it; I was not surprised to find my memory card with all my information intact and some few additional poorly taken photographs of her. I was quick to delete them. This had proved that indeed she was the ghost behind the missing stuff. Sadly she also had to go.

As all this drama is happens, my dearest of nieces, Vanessa turns one in this month of love. I'd like to wish her an early happy birthday and tell her to hang in there because I believe the drama with the nannies is far from over. But From the chaos a beautiful thing emerges, happy birthday V. 

Here's to 2016

Here is my 1^st blog in 2016. I meant to do this on New Year’s Eve but

the party refused to die down. And the aftermath is a dent so deep in my pockets am suspecting it must have gotten to my skin. That’s a story for another day.

But it’s never too late for resolutions, I mean come on, don’t we all look forward to making those promises to ourselves we know we won’t keep? 2015 has been so busy; I might have bitten a bit too much for my tiny mouth. Looking back though, I must admit am a little bit surprised at how fast time flew. I feel cheated of some days and hours. Think I will speak to guy above and get a refund or some saucer like how we demand for that ugali saucer like it’s our birth right, it’s like a part of the freedom our forefathers fought so hard for against the colonialists. And I can picture the maumau fighters armed with machetes, spears and shields hailing freedom and ugali saucer while gaining territory against the white man. And at the point of freedom a long speech, of how well deserved the freedom was, how the battle was tough and of the darker days to follow. And I would imagine our founding president finishing it off with that being said, nobody and I mean no one will be denied an ugali saucer, quite a dramatic ending as people cheered and fireworks lit the skies. Anyway you get the point.

I can’t believe how far I digressed from my intended topic for such a minute distraction, it’s tough being a guy.

So here is how I start off my 2016. From the first sentences you can already tell I am money hungry. 2016 is a year to make money. I feel this money hungry beast within me rattle the cages of my being trying to get out there and amass as much as it can. And guess what, I am not even going to put it on a leash; I’ll just sit back and watch it go. I figure I will follow trail and keep safe whatever it puts down. I have come to tire of the conventional ways of making money, sitting in a dull office and enduring long hours of work. That alone will not get me to my vision 2020; I need to make more investments make bigger risks. And I feel everyone should after all we are a growing economy with so many avenues of making money and especially online. I should start charging a fee for the blog as well.  That sums up my first resolution, #making money. At times lack of hunger puts us in our comfort zone. 

Here is my second resolution that might feature in all your resolution list #Quit taking any stuff that is taken in smoke form. And that includes tea made at moms. The tea is served so hot that we take it in steam form, I have feeling that is equally harmful. The kettles and flask should come with a warning similar to the one on cigarette packs; smocking tea is smth smth harmful to your health. And then a Swahili version of the warning would follow.

And my other resolution that am sure features in all your list is quitting alcohol. Yes, this is not a hoax ladies and gentlemen and especially to those of you shaking your heads like the fellows who doubted Noah when he started building that arc. To you I say, watch this space. 

Finally I would like to keep what I started in 2015 going. It’s important to ensure the continuity of the sane things you started earlier. Remember quitting is for losers and wooses. This however does not apply to quitting the stuff mentioned earlier. If you are quitting, you shouldn’t stop quitting. My god I sound like Alfred Mutua when he was government spokesman. He literally came on air for a press briefing and gave you less than a stripper, as far as clothing and decency is concerned, at a midnight show. Boni wherever you at, am sure you can relate. And don’t ask how I know all this. 

 We wouldn’t wind up without thanking the guy above for tolerating us and having the patience of not taking us all at once. Mean some of you guys can really be annoying so trust me when I use tolerance. 

So with that here is a list of things I feel we should have left in 2015

1.        Team mafisi, let ladies catch a breath this year

2.       Ugali saucer, please note it is not your birth right, let it breath

3.       Njoki Chege, she literally gave us migraines in 2016, let Subaru drivers rest this year, pick on prius’s and Peugeots this year, we hate them equally. But really we should just leave her in 2015

4.      Xaxa n xema, to our loved ones who just cleared school, kindly spare us the agony of such heartbreaking texts. You should be decent enough to respect the noble language of the so called grey haired Englishmen. Maybe you have no clue as to who these men are but this does not warrant your disrespect for the language.

5.       Wicked wigs and nasty eyebrows, this we should leave in the 90’s

Let's go to campus

We are in some not so classy restaurant in the heart of the city in the sun, Nairobi. In the midst of the ongoing El-Niño rains, the sun has shown its face perhaps a bit jealous of all the attention that’s been going to the season. She caught many by surprise, ladies downed in their denims and leather boots and men with those spear shaped umbrellas and heavy duty leather jackets. I couldn’t help but smile at how the weather had many fooled, there’s an aroma of burning leather in the air, add some aromat to it and you have a meal. You literally add it to anything and it’s a meal, my pal Ken boils some old leather shoes adds aromat and has his dogs chewing noisily on them.

Sitting across the table is my date, clad in a close fitting but snug orange dress and a chain length bead necklace with a fist size silver pendant. The type of necklaces that are popular with campus chiqs. But don’t be fooled, she’s not your average campus girl, not the type that are constantly on your phone asking for a Friday plot. And definitely not the type you invite on a date and she turns up an hour late with her gang of friends who hold no reservations when it comes to make up, you are even convinced that joker from batman is hiding in there somewhere. My date, hiding behind some red rimmed glasses with some faint tint of purple is chatting playfully while stirring her startella and caramel blended ice-cream. I am intently fighting the tint trying to make eye contact, she must notice because she pulls off her glasses and places them on the table. And she has these gorgeous eyes that resemble a Child's, so clear and milky white unlike mine that are 50 shades of red. I am having mars and Oreo Ice-cream and she keeps stealing scoops from my cup while laughing it off casually. She’s quite a character. 

She stole me from class and that’s how we end up on a date. We have so much in common except some track she send me in the name of music, till now I cannot figure out if she had the motive to torture me to death with it. Hanging out with her is so much fun; I am enchanted by her brilliance. She is quite ambitious and a dreamer. By her informed comments you can tell she is into reading, the good kind of reading (informative as well as purposeful). A mature head on young shoulder, she is a living proof that indeed girls do mature faster than boys. At her age I am even embarrassed to say what was going on in my mind, while her, she’s already contemplating a smooth retire without financial stringencies.

It became a bit clear why girls go for older guys; their intellect and needs are a bit advanced for guys their age. The difference between the two is like the opposite sides of the crocodile infested waters of the Nile. Trying to bridge that gap is a fatal risk, although there is greener pastures once you cross over, so many are lost in this endeavour. My point being guys don’t get bitter, we are not ready anyway, trust me.

That being said, there are some exemptions. And they are quite common; the second reason girls go for older guys. Do I see a hand? Anyone know the answer?? Off course we are all thinking it, and damn right you are, it’s all about finances. Ladies look at their peers, playful characters whose only weapon is charm (needless to say, it quickly disappears without a fat wallet after draining the HELB account) and some silly jokes. The girls have already locked them out even before they get a chance to ask them out. Sipping on some nasty tasting liquor which has to be forced down (wash down is quite an overstatement) with some carbonated beverage is mostly if not all these poor chaps have to offer. Their idea of fun is drinking themselves to a stupor on a Friday night and getting quick shag. Maybe once or twice these girls have fallen for that trick, but eventually the novelty and the fun of it soon dies down.

Soon you (they guys) are being avoided like a plague. The ideas the ladies have for clubbing and partying are too far fetched for your starved wallet. And that is how your find yourself in gangs of six or more drowning your sorrows in devils piss. Complaining and lamenting how your classmates have turned to the oldest profession. But who can blame them, future you couldn’t even hang out with you in that state. But in the state you are in, a world of your own, nothing really can come between you and the pleasure you are deriving from the bottle. Well nothing except for an ugly girl you make out with at some point in the night, it’s no surprise she is equally wasted. You are convinced she’s pretty as a goddess until you hook up with her the next day. It all begins to make sense, the line in every alcohol commercial about alcohol impairing your judgement.

It’s not all downhill from here. Actually this is one of the most exciting faces in a guy’s life. You’ve heard this saying by ladies that you never forget your first? Well, you never forget your campus life either. It’s that point in life where you let out the inner beast in you, the untamed, hairy chest, barbaric and macho man out. You are a rebel, you can spend nights out and hook up with chiqs above your league and all this squeezed into a budget of ksh.1000. All you have is character and some cheeky pick up lines. Speaking of pick up lines, this guy Moses from the office, always fast to control find his name to see if he features in the blog before he reads has one for you. He walks up to lady and asks,

Moses: when is the funeral? And the lady confused is like what funeral?

 Moses: You have killed so many with your beauty.

Lady: what a jerk! (Pours a glass of whatever she was sipping on into Moses’ face and walks away)

Hehe I am so evil

 The problem with pick up lines is that they really never play out how you imagine them. It’s like a scene and you are the only one with a script, it won’t play out. So don’t do it Moses, just don’t. But I promise to finish off with one that actually works, make that two am in awesome mood.

 And who would forget that heartfelt victory when you got that girl from the club to your hostel. A Masai Moran may have just put a lion down with nothing but a dagger, but he can’t match up that feel, not as far as you are concerned. You run the world; you even blandish yourself the new sheriff in town. Such silly moments of joy elicit a totally different reaction from the female fraternity. You will be called immature & silly especially when you high five to such an accomplishments.

And it is such moments you should savour, enjoy them while they last. Soon it will be you, god forbid, driving around campus in sleek vehicles picking up these girls. There’s plenty of time to make money, just don’t lose your front tooth in your endeavours, Kamiti I hope you read this. Remain ambitious, be a responsible drinker and shout the streets of Nairobi for it’s your time. They might try to whisper for you to lower your voice, to be modest, and it is to them that you will raise one eye brow in Dwayne Johnson fashion, make the meanest face and shout IT DOESN’T MATER WHAT YOU WANT. And damn right it doesn’t, so go out there and take the night. Live while you are young.

Some advice for the ladies.

If you are a lady in campus or some university college (or college university whichever excites) and you’re looking to date an older guy please make yourself interesting. Read some books, have your own stand on issues not just going with whatever the guy says. Don’t let canoodling be the only thing you can bring to the table, occasionally one should enjoy a good chat. I am just from a call with a campus chiq who insists on long dull content-less conversations before she sleeps. The only thing we have to discuss is how she is shivering in bed and our conversations are filled with long uncomfortable pauses and forced laughs. It’s really a nightmare, having to hum to communicate. I feel like I have teleported back to the days before the homo-pithecus discovered speech.  So gather some knowledge, be passionate about something it will do you both some good.

Meanwhile it is getting dark outside, and my date is still recovering, trying to catch her breath. I just narrated of the time I attended a wrong lecture for two hours before I realized I was in the wrong class. And I still do mix classes but she is my guardian angel, always there to direct me to the right class. And I am happy of the decisions she is taking in life, the life she is choosing for herself.  Although I haven’t known her for long I already know this will be one interesting friendship. I walk her to some convenient distance near her hostel and we part ways. I turn back to watch her go, and a smirk cuts across my face. And guys it’s not only for her impressive rear but because any guy would be lucky to have her. Way to go girl.

Pick up artist.

Class sees a girl standing or sitting clearly waiting for someone. Class walks over

Class: Hey...

Lady: (abit shy) Hey

Class: He is not coming (smiling)

A playful argument ensues, from here the convo takes any course you lead it.

Case 2. Class walks over to a girl

Class: excuse me but this is a no smocking zone.

Lady: but am not smocking

Class: (with a silly smile on his face) yes you are :-)

Class introduces himself.

Odyssey of a heavenly encounter

 

If you see this, it means you got high and you were afraid you would forget what you were experiencing. This is just a reminder, and you called Alela just as a confirmation.

Your mind is playing tricks on you. It is against you in this. Managing to jot this down is a struggle, it’s all about persistence and resilience. Your mind is mixing up the letters of the alphabet. This is the inner being, the guy whose voice you hear when you are thinking to yourself.

The phone rings and you cannot trace its exact location, the direction the buzzing is coming from. Your senses are completely disoriented. Concentration is hard to maintain. You give in, try to sleep it off.

Here we go, as Alela mentioned, there really is no option but to sit back and enjoy the ride. This had me thrilled; he had struck the nail on the head with what I was experiencing. I wanted out but there really wasn’t a way out. I was stuck with it, but it was not really that bad since its forcing me to be happy, to be hysterical, and to keep that smile going. And I give in. I chuckled when I remember high school, the movie about an entire school, teachers and parents included, that got high. Its Saturday evening, you are in your bed typing on your tablet. But how did we get here, how did we (inner being and mind) end up like this? To answer this I have to take you back to Friday.

It’s Friday afternoon, a day every employer dreads. This is a day when nothing gets done and everyone is trying to buy time and push all commitments they had to Monday. Although everyone is striking that busy pose in-front of their monitor, you can tell by the silly smile they are struggling hard to conceal that it’s not business as usual. The only business that gets done on Friday is accepting friend requests on face book, watching that new hot track on You Tube and planning  your weekend. That is until your boss announces you have to come to work on Saturday and you can hear people’s dreams shutter by how grumpy they get. It is like working with kids. Lucky for this particular day, the weekend duty has not yet been called.

 A call comes through as I am in the office. It’s Ken following up on this road trip he was organising. Ken is that friend you’ve known since childhood, he is practically family. It is a friendship rich with history, one that has been through thick and thin. One that has been to the highest point of mount Longonot and spend days in police stations (nothing criminal I promise) and came out unscratched, undeterred.  Your families are friends and you are a familiar figure even to his extended family. He has even featured in some of the family portraits, we go way back. He is a living throwback.

He wants to know how far I have gone in renting up a car. He is not thrilled to hear you are still waiting for feedback. He hangs up and although he has not mentioned it, you can tell he has made a conviction to get the car himself. He is determined to spend his 23 birthday in the outskirts of town, he has saved enough to ensure this. He has also managed to convince his circle of friend to tag along.

A few minutes later, Ken calls again. This time he has gotten some contact for a car renting agency, he wants me to act fast. And I do just that, I call the contact he gave and a lady picks up. We negotiate the terms and once we had agreed on a rate it was all to the nitty gritty of details. As a business man I like to cover all the details, or rather leave no stone unturned as the local truistic daily’s would put it. I suspect this is why he wants me to handle this transaction (kujichocha), and maybe because I have done this sort of thing before.

Everything is running smoothly, the lady demands a copy of my driving license and ID card which is all in order. The car is to come by evening before 7pm and the only hitch we are having is the fact that I did not carry my license. She also wants me to send a deposit of half the rate to book the car, an offer I boldly decline. I try to reason with her, convince her that I will send a copy of my license as soon I get home via mail. It sounds reasonable and the only issue now is the deposit. I demand to see the vehicle first and explain my unwillingness to put my blind trust in her. She does not take that statement well; she mumbles some words in exasperation. What I make out is something to do with the value of the car she is willing to entrust me with but I will not do the same. My efforts to convince her that that is no way to do business are futile and she hangs up.

A few minutes later, it’s Ken again on the line demanding to know what sought of thing I might have said to offend the lady. When I explain to him how it went down, he still wants me to call back see if there is another way this deal can be sealed. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want to lose the chance of getting this car since the rates are below the market rates. I give it another go, I call the agency again, a lady’s voice is on the other end, and the same lady I had spoken to. I suggest that we meet up in town, she is to come with the car and I am to pay the full amount and present the required documents once we meet. She will not have any of that either, explaining that the no vehicle leaves their offices without being booked in a computerised system. All this time I cannot make out why she is making this so difficult. Left with no option, I ask where their offices are located as the only way am paying that deposit is after seeing the vehicle. In a contemptuous tone she indicates some offices in galleria, and accuses me of wasting her time before she hangs up (this is beginning to get on my nerves). By now this is beginning to be suspicious and am glad Ken agrees with me . We fore gore that option. Apparently Ken had gotten recommendation from a friend, Malema. He had given him assurance that the guy is legit. I try calling the number but my call won’t be answered. I conclude they are fraudsters.

Thirty minutes down, I am still making frantic calls to my friends and any connections I have to renting agencies. Ken calls back, explains to me that the lady had spoken to Malema and the car we wanted was no longer available. I can feel this being blamed entirely on me. I assure ken we can’t miss a Morti.

By Friday evening I get an offer from a guy (Gitau) I have previously rented a car from. His rate is just above normal, not really that inflated. All he wants is an additional, refundable 3 thousand, just in case the vehicle is dented and a deposit half the rate. This I don’t have an issue with. Ken also knows the guy. We had become friends after we experienced an accident 2 years earlier in one of his cars; it’s really why we had spent days at a police station, Dog-section Mombasa.

 Coast people usually pass for slow, careful to accomplish with the minutest of effort. That is until you experience an accident at Bombolulu in a voxy and one of the doors happens to fall off. And once you alight to get the door and find it missing, that’s when you realize how lightning fast this guys can be. That all this time we were  taking sluggishness for weakness while it was their greatest strength. Well done Coastarian, you evil geniuses. You had me fooled.

Although he (Gitau) ripped us off, or rather we feel he did, he was willing to give us time to pay for the damages. Even after that we had maintained close contact and even recommended him to our friends.

This was Friday evening, we decided to make payments on Saturday morning.

Saturday morning

 I was woken up by Ken, excited, he ha d gotten another source which came recommended by the galleria lady. Ken had spoken to the guy and had agreed on a rate. Better still he had sent a deposit ( I know rather naïve)I was just to pick the car at gee-vanjee before Ken came up with yet another of his brilliant ideas. He had talked to this new guy (Mustafa) @ TRM and had even promised that I would be sending the full payment amount. Malema had reassured us that he knew the guy as a lady from his office had given him the contact. I obliged and sent the remaining balance and waited for the vehicle to be delivered. Minutes later the driver of the said vehicle calls, and she has allegedly been involved in some accident. To spare you the agony of hearing the lame excuse he tried to extort money from me, I will skip to the part where I hang up(Deeply satisfied I am the one hanging up). And that right there is how we did not get the car for hire. We had been swindled in the deal and trying to reach them on the phone was futile.

We met up with ken to comprehend on the events that had just taken place. It took him a bit longer to take it. It did seem like some scene from a fiction movie. We called Malema who had sent us the contact, I almost collapsed when I heard that he had gotten the number from a newspaper advert. I have not recovered from this shock, not just yet (Malema we really should skin you). We get one of our friends to call the number,  Mustafa is laughing at his achievement, and he reveals he is in kamiti maximum prison. He is a “mundu wa nyuba” and the stereotype is rubbed in.  

This is when Ken revealed he had ordered some muffins with some secret ingredient(for legality issues we cannot mention the secret ingredient). For the dramatic effects sake let’s call this secret ingredient chemical  X, you can relate if you are a child of the 90’s. I took one while Ken took two before we parted ways. We had to call our friends to inform them that the road-trip was off while trying to avoid going into details. Grown men getting hustled is nothing to be proud off.

In the mat heading home that is when the effects of the muffins kick in. Suddenly everything is funny, am laughing at literally everything. And this is how I get myself typing on the bed with all this confusion going on in my head.

I am taken on a journey through life, and I become a philosopher. It is a journey of enlightenment, self discovery and am at peace with everything. I even manage to do a respectful bow to myself with my hands together in a prayer like manner and sigh a ‘Namaste’. I have managed to use faculties of my brain I haven’t explored before, I dig deeper into my darkest being, areas I dint even know existed.

All the secrets to success lay bare before my eyes, I can feel a connection with the greatest being, the all knowing. And I get a taste a drop of this knowledge, and it is heavenly, a bit too much to take in at once. I feel like a monk on a journey to seek answers to life’s questions, its origin, its meaning.

I learn that that to be successful you must be willing to walk away from the crowd, from the people you find comfort in as they rarely challenge you. You have to interact with greater minds but not all great minds but only those that are willing and have a genuine story to share.

I learn that there cannot be creativity without exposure. Creativity is mainly if not only about copying and improving. Case in point, the person who invented aero-planes, the likes of the right brothers would not have done so if they had not seen birds fly the air. The idea of flying came from others flying beings.

I learnt that imagination and be who we are is a result of what we see and hear. Anything you imagine is what you have seen in at one point in your life. Imagination does not come out of a black hole. Anything you imagine is a modification of something you have seen and heard at point in your life. Character is also build from entirely from these and people you relate to. If you are exposed to negativity your thoughts and ideas will be in that line of thought. Your choice of movies and music has a lot to do with how you react and respond to situations more than you know it. You are a product of only what you are exposed to. We become what and who we are not by accident but by what we are exposed to since childhood.

I feel like the biblical Moses who used to pass out and have conversations with god when I come to. I am glad I came to learn so much through such unorthodox methods. I am deeply satisfied, having interacted with the divine being on such a level.