Books, Balconies and the unrelenting weeds

The good thing with land is that it never depreciates. That means you expect it to be the way it is at worst. This shamba of mine is no exception (chuckles). I can’t even tell whether the page views are increasing. What I know is that they can surely not decrease. That ladies and gentlemen makes me comforted.

So I have been away for so looong. The weeds have made this place their own. I hear they even got a new constitution promulgated. It has a clause for land division. They want to divide my fuckin land. I just came over to put up a sign that this is natb’s land and is not for sale. Then I shall leave for another several days.

I have never taken up doing something that ended up being a bother for me. That is why I am boldly walking around this place, devoid of any farm implements, seedlings and a sign of rain just to tell myself that am in control. Yes am in control. There is this saying that Manchester United does not fail to score in a game, they just run out of time. Well I am running out of time every time I try to plant something around here.

This year has flown by like those Tokyo trains. It seems I am one of the few who were left behind. Eti the year is ending. I never quite saw how some months passed by. October and August. I never saw you. I do not think I even received salary for them. There were mountains of work infront of me that made me see nothing.

Days ago I was reading some article about the Kenyan street vendors of books. Ok lemmie try again. Book vendors in the Kenyan streets. Whatevs men. So some of those guys make quite a tidy sum at the end of the day. I have never bought/read a book of late. The last time I bought a book was in October last year. Sh 50. I never got to read even the first letter. I offloaded it to my bro telling him it was one hell of an interesting read. I always blamed my non reading to the absence of a balcony in my house. Quite nice huh? I only read a book on a balcony possibly overlooking the maasai mara. Or some beauty taking a shower nude by the river. Yeah that’s how sophisticated I have turned out to be. If I were I lady I could agree for a shag only on Mt.Everest. In fact that would make me know how much that kaguy is able to rise to the occasion in extreme circumstances and other related areas (morning wood, anybody?) ok I digress.

So I was talking about books and balconies. I finally got a balcony. I have two options. Find another excuse or start reading books. Oh oh I got it! I only read from a kindle. I am past papers. Papers are for butcheries.  I do not own a kindle. That will stick as I find a better excuse or convince my ass to read.

As for the weeds on my farm. Stay put, enjoy your stay, rihanna is coming to smoke you out.

Toodles.

Boom box playlist:

Read all about it - Proffesor Green/Emile Sande

R.I.P to Mr Roach.

There comes a time when even the minutest things manage to gather enough force to command an effect. Yeah, that sounds like a famous quote or something. Well, I’m famous so there you go. Ladies and gentlemen, I tried. I tried to forget that this blog actually existed. I tried covering everything. I built a very high fortification around my life so that I would never get to see the overgrown weeds. I think I did it well. The only problem is that whenever I went sightseeing other people’s shambas, they remind me of mine. And of course there are some rudiments like Tasha who keep reminding me of my failed obligations.

Well, here I am. I folded my sleeves and took up the role of the absent farmer/father/writer for this blog. I stopped caring of what could become of it. It is crazy. I can only look back and reminisce the good times, like the old folks to the youthful days. I used to have that slow afternoon when I could take an hour to write something. There are no more. I could sneak in a blog-time on a weekend amidst the tight schedule of movies and sleeping. Well, these days I do more movies and more sleep instead. If you are not able to distinguish between a hobby and a chore, here it is. You do not break a sweat doing a hobby. Writing is no hobby for me. One of the underlying reasons for starting this blog is to kinda graduate into a big wig and get laid frequently and effortlessly in the process. I am glad to pronounce that this shit bag has not helped me achieve any of the above. I am still hopeful. So I am not going to quit on this. It is ideally the closest route to stardom for me.

While I was away I went bald and the remaining hair turned grey. That’s my way of saying that I have not had anything interesting to write about. Yeah, now you can turn over and watch that paint dry. The population of cockroaches increased in my house though. I wonder what those buggers eat. There hardly food in my house. There just there, walking around as if they pay the rent. I wonder whether they talk about me. I guess it is boredom that made one of them to enter my office bag and decide to come out once I reached the office. That bitch did not see it coming. It did not manage to see the light of the day for a second. Nobody saw it either. I think I can make a very good assassin. I wish the ones back at home got the message. Who needs doom when I’m around? I kill whoever fucks with me, just like the praying matis (mantisi, worrap mesh!!).That’s all.

Come to think of it, long long ago. When the wheel had not been invented, when people used to walk around naked without discomfort (I guess you get what I mean), some guy who used to live at our place used to call me Cockroach. Really? Of all the words. Since it was a long time ago, I can’t even remember his name or face. I could really want to know why he called me that. I guess he got a kick out of it since it used to piss me off. I hope somebody I calling him a hyena or warthog.

Well, the paint has dried. I hope to come back sooner than this. Class dismissed.

Boom box playlist:

 Hope – Twista ft Faith Evans.

R.I.P – Rita Ora

A Post not meant to be about Coders…

I was super tired. This is one of those afternoons where everybody has switched off. The office is very hot and everybody seems to have finally managed to enter the ‘who ate the most food at lunch contest’. I overate too. Fucking restaurant. Who told them to make Pilau to be that sweet. The AC is doing little to help things out. You can’t blame it. It’s the coast after all. My COG is at the stomach.

I was super tired. That’s why I opened a word document to write something. The state of my mind is unmistakably depicted by the emptiness of this document. I remember the first time I saw a word document. It was back in 2003. I was in form 2. Insert an excessively hungry image ogling at a CRT. Tumetoka mbali. Just like my classmates, we detested the computer classes. We scored very scantily and eventually dropped it in form three. I ended up doing Metalwork instead of computer science. Face palm. However, we loved computer room class. Practical lessons. The ones who had prior computers prowess came with these diskettes with porn. We spent all our time watching them. Nobody bothered to learn other stuff. And that’s why I opened my first email address in January 2007. I met the computer lesson-hating disease again in campus. Smh.

Possibly those who were keen on computer lessons are the modern day coders. I have always craved to be called that name. Coders. It sounds like a panty dropper. A chick magnet. “Hey, I’m a coder, mind if I had sex with you?” Most coders have blogs. They understood what a blog is. It took me 4.5 years since opening my first email a/c to know what the hell a blog is. Coders followed each other on twitter long before we boarded that truck from mkzland. Coders employ themselves. If they are employed somewhere, they still employ themselves on part time basis. They spend weekends pitching some projects at iHub. Damn, I missed being a Coder. Anybody with an idea where I can buy a coders wannabe t-shirt? I hope coders wish they were accountants too (I doubt that a lot). You know, wishing you were called natb CPA(K). Having the clout to shout it at the top of your lungs and never give a shit coz you worked for it.  Shite, I sound hurt, jealous and bitter. Don’t worry, I overate today.

I’m trying to resist the urge to write further about coders. Ok, the last one. There is this primary school mate I saw in the paper the other day. He is a coder. He is not that hungry, rickety mono is used to see getting at the end of all kinds of ridicule. He was 2 classes behind me. The paper claimed that his project won him a half a million shillings. On top of that, he has a company which employs 5 equally minded coders. I think you can see why I am mad about this shit. “Hey, I’m a coder, I won a half a milli, I have a company that employs 5 people: mind if I have sex with you?” That’s a line that can easily render you dumped by your girlfriend. That’s why I think I have to groove with a coder. Anybody who has one of the founding members of AkiraChix number?

Ok this post was not about coders (again?). It was about gorging coastal delicacies in a hot afternoon and a blinking word document. (It is such a bad idea to work at the coast btw). Then the blinking screen made me think of the source of my computer proficiency (sarcasm anyone?). If I was a coder (again?), I couldn’t be stuck here with numbers to crunch. Probably I could be by the beach, chini ya mnazi, blowing the half a million which I won, with that girlfriend of yours. So much for wishful thinking.

Boom box playlist:

 Every chance I get – T.I

Natb's upcoming Movie...

The old rugged man walked lethargically through the rain into a corner bar, partly hidden by snow. There were only three revelers in the bar engrossed with their liquor. He gazed lazily across their faces before heading to a corner where a huge man was seated facing the wall. I hope you are envisioning that scene in my upcoming movie. I’m yet to choose a title for it. I think I shall call it ‘Lotsa sex in fast cars while firing guns’ though it will not be having any of the above. It is all just to make people buy it.

Apart from sleeping (the undisputed champion) I realized watching movies is my next favorite activity. It is right ahead of eating, watching football (now that the football season is over), reading, partying,  going to church, working, listening to music, reading books, doing laundry, hanging out with friends, and even having sex (God knows the last time I had some). The bad news about it is that I gain absolutely nothing. I’m only left with a longing for more.

Just like doing anything else, too much watching of movies make you a better critic. A good movie critic will be able to smell a dreadful script from miles away, bad actors, little or no chemistry between actors, bad production, naivas accents, tuskeys weaves, uchumi costumes, etc. If one is a good critic then he/she a good actor and a good movie director/producer. Hence my aforementioned upcoming movie in which I am the producer, director and the lead actor, (that huge man in the bar). With all the hunkness and 3Dness, I think I will Ace in this shit. I do not want to ruin the bouillabaisse.

There are this bad movie habit that I have developed over time. I have to watch a movie with ear phones. I guess it is because of my boundless state of solitude. I get all the moments. That’s how I lie to myself. I fear for my ears. I once met this guy in a mat who told me that I was spoiling my ears by listening to music all the time through my earphones. I figured that he was envious, or something. His youth days had passed without him having to listen to music in a mat. Well maybe he was saying the truth.

Now that we are talking about movies today, I went to iMax a while ago to watch avengers. I need to change my friends. It came into my realization that I have 50 bob DVD friends. I couldn’t figure how I never knew anybody there. I hereby pronounce my friendship with all my friends null and void. Please do not give me the You-know-we-went-there-in-a-different-day crap.  Mnirudishie sufuria zangu, socks, na vitu zingine mliniombanga. Maybe I belong to the 50 bob DVD life with my friends. I choose to change. We all know the fake it till you make it principle works. I want to be among the elite Kenyans (that’s what I believe they are), maybe I might bump into Obako’s granddaughter *wink*.

PS: Somebody asked me whether I had accomplished any of my many resolutions. Well, I haven’t. Not even one. Not even fixing my bathroom bulb (don’t look at me like that, it is extremely complicated and it does not look as bad as it sounds.)

PSS: Last week I was passing through town and I saw a displaced new generation ID. I was like, this guy was given an ID few days ago and has managed to lose it? How now? Some people need to be penalized for such shameful acts. Yeah, fast forward to this Monday, I had my chance. I never wasted it. How could I? S M H.

Boom box Playlist:

Muthoni Kifagio – Newton Karish

Mothers' Day: A late tribute.

I have this serious question, how many mothers’ days are there in a year? I feel there are more than 10. There is definitely only one father’s day in the year with no brothers or sisters days. I was hoping that people could use yesterday’s day to contemplate on why there is a huge disparity in the number of mothers’ days and fathers’ day. I was wrong. It was the same old. There mass media was as usual using it to lure you to spend more as a way of showing your mom the appreciation she merits. For a mother, I feel that it is not the best way of showing your gratitude. Maybe it is appropriate for the girlfriend. I call the latter ‘the guzzlers’.

Yesterday my alarm woke me up at 10 am. I do not trust myself to wake up at all without an alarm. I took the next 30 minutes, gazing at the ceiling, in silence, thinking about my mum. I concluded that words cannot do justice in describing how incredible she is. And that’s how I declined the thought of writing a post about her. I however changed my mind today.

I am one of the people who subscribes to this controversial school of thought. A human being shall not be accorded full respect from the society until he/she raises a kid to adulthood. The trials and tribulations that a son/daughter makes a parent to go through and the way they handle them are the defining moments of parenthood. Once a child matures into a successful adult, he/she transforms into a plaque that the parents adore and show off to the peers. The father will always brag about how he sold all his cows to take you through school, how you crashed all exams and how you got that big ass office job in the city. The mother will brag about the mature adult you turned out to be. She will sit with her friend as she recounts how you transformed from a mucus licking brat into a handsome/beautiful adult with a level headed spouse. Mothers are more proud of your general behavior than the size of your bank account.

I aint a mama but I can relate to the expectations that my mum has of me. Whenever I have a chat with my parents, I always get the small variation in the pieces of advice that they churn out to me. He goes for the be-prepared-for-the-future card. Avoid extravagance, save as much as possible. Work hard at work and look out for any better job offers. She always goes overboard telling me about upholding my behavior, avoiding bad company, respecting my peers and praying daily. I know there is no gift however immense, however pricey that can make her more proud of me than upholding these qualities. That’s why I was saying using mothers’ day to buy your mum that dress is not the best present that you can get her. You should use such a day to reflect on your life, ask yourself whether your mum is happy with your way of life, do you still respect her? Do you listen to them still…or they are now too old? The best present that you can get her is living that life that she envisioned you to live as you were screaming for her breast, years ago.

Despite all the questioning I have for the number of mothers’ days in the year, they deserve them all, and more. I might not be able to get the experience firsthand but I know mothers go through a lot of trouble to raise a kid. The 9 months of carrying you are so hard, they have to go through mood swings because of you, they visit the toilet after every two minutes because of you, they stop getting hit on by strangers because of you. They deserve to be celebrated in a major way. All mothers should be assembled and given a tour to the moon or something, so that they go floating for an hour or so, just smiling or screaming with joy, not worrying about their children or husbands. Others are single mothers. They should be celebrated the more. Mentally, they are the strongest. They got through a lot of problems, yet they overcome.  

This is the point where I unleash one or two words about my mum. Just like yesterday, I am yet to find the words to express what she is to me. Flawless. That word comes closest in describing her character. I have no recollection of her messing something up. Or making any mistake. I have never seen her quarrel with anybody. She has no enemy. I have never seen her turn anybody away from our home. She is a hard worker, running our home like a selfish bully. She doesn’t require anybody’s help in running it. She doesn’t have a daughter; I have never heard her complain that she is overwhelmed by the four men she has in her life. We really suffer when she is not around though.

There is this theory that is floating around that men always choose spouse with characteristics similar to their mothers. I am sorry to say that it is so very true in my case. Humble. That is what she is. Pride is never her thing. If you are an undisputed loudmouth, so sorry we will never work out. I have just realized I can go on and on about her and I shall not finish. Stuff I’d rather keep with me as I smile and think about being one of the three who are blessed with the honor of having the best mother in the world. I believe she is the closest to that lady described in Proverbs 31.

As I mark my late mothers’ day, I thank God for the gift of her. I pray that she shall be granted a long and fulfilling life. Through her, I know that my family always receives His blessings. Esther is her name.

This goes to all mothers out there. We love you and appreciate all that you have done to us.

I chose all the songs in my laptop talking about mothers for my boom box playlist. Go ahead and enjoy.

Boom box playlist:

·         Mama knows best – Jessie J

·         Dear mama – Tupac

·         Hey mama – Kanye west

·         A song for mama – Boyz II men

·         Mama’s worst nightmare – Bruno mars

·         Stacy’s Mom – Fountain of Wayne

·         She got it from her mama – Juvenile

·         Baby mama – Fantasia

·         Mama Lusiya – Khadija Nin

·         Mama Africa – Akon

·         Sweet mama- Papa Shange

·         Mobimba ya mama – Awilo Longoma

·         Mama we – Ukoo Flani  

·         Mama – Spice girls