THE JOURNEY THAT HAS BEEN.

                                                     

Several years ago, the class of 2020(should be class of 2018) was admitted to MUSOM as freshly-out-of- high school, starry-eyed boys and girls. More than 7 years later, they have all grown up and successfully cleared Medical school. Hongera kwenu madaktari!

Albeit having different origins, we all dreamt of finally becoming doctors and helping alleviate human suffering. We knew the road would be rough and dreary but knowing is one thing and living it up is another. In the words of the late Chinua Achebe, “It costs water and firewood.” You have to pay the price to qualify and we paid it all including taxes.

Ours has been a steep learning curve, from being scared of cadavers, to being scared of ward rounds and currently, to being scared of hospital calls! The beauty of it is that each stage leaves you impregnated with invaluable experience. 

Most memories of us in junior classes have started fading but I know we can still remember our first encounters with the basic sciences: the Biochemistry structures, the Physiology, Immunology and Microbiology essays, the acrid smell of formalin in the Anatomy lab which had become our daily bread in our 1st and 2nd years and the late Professor Rhytko’s Histology ‘cartoons’(Rest easy Prof)

Talking of Histology, which one of you while as a freshman asked his crush,"If I was an endoplasmic reticulum, would you like me smooth or rough?” I just want to know whether it ended in tears, information which is purely for research purposes.

3rd  year came with the courses of Pathology and Pharmacology .The word Pain starts with the letter P and so do these two courses. Coincidence? I think not.

Despite school work rubbing our noses in the dirt, 3rd year had its fair share of fun. Our annual class trip this time involved some serious domestic tourism. If in late 2014 you saw a group of youngins wearing cheap plastic shades and carrying funeral mineral water bottles around Menengai crater in Nakuru and Thompson falls in Nyahururu, then you definitely saw us.

Scientists have unanimously agreed that medical school progressively gets harder from one class to the next. Our 4th year was no different. Everything seemed new and it took the joint effort of our 6th years, the residents and consultants to prevent us from practising broad daylight witchcraft in the wards.

As a class, we felt the full impact of the various industrial actions in the country. The doctors’ and lecturers’ strikes in both our 5th and final years automatically meant that we were staying in school longer than scheduled and subsequently made us one of the oldest undergraduates in the country. One of us used to jokingly say,"tumezeekea hii shule karibu tunapata retinopathy of maturity.”

We had really dark moments in our final year when we lost 2 of our collegues;the late Dr Ivy Wangechi and the late Dr John Thuku.Even though life must go on, we still mourn while wishing that these two brilliant and cheerful souls were still around.We shall forever miss you.

The class was also well represented in extracurricular activities from the local campus and national student leadership positions to entrepreneurship and in various sports and games. Fun fact: the class of 2020 used to be a football powerhouse until old age kicked in and turned our knees arthritic then our juniors started unleashing terror upon us in the pitch to a point that we almost cursed them.

It would be rude, boorish and uncourteous not to recognize our colleagues who were blessed to be parents while in school. Kudos! For the rest, we look forward to soon celebrate your F1 generations.

Tangazo: just ensure that there is enough pilau in your events coz we will eat till we get difficulty in breathing and develop hernias

Our class is the epitome of perseverance, hard work and friendship and it's always a great privilege being a member. You made school fun and I can confidently declare that truly indeed I didn't study medicine in the company of the wrong mammals.

Brethren, life will constantly serve you challenges, sometimes at meningitic doses. Don’t give up. Try to always keep pushing forward like peristalsis. VIVA!

DR MAIMA MUKUNZI.

FEBRUARY, 2020.

MEAL TIME PRAYERS.

Prayers are very crucial.What`s equally crucial is for them to be brief especially if it is before meals.

 When a meal is ready,psychologically we are full of anticipation.Physically,our oral cavities increase their salivary output and our nostrils are at their peak performance picking up the aroma.The only acceptable happy ending for this kind of persecutory build up is a brief prayer and then letting people do justice to the food pronto.

 Lets take a quick look into the anatomy of a standard prayer before a meal.First thank the supreme being you believe in for the constant supply of respiratory substrates. Then conclude by humbly requesting Him to bless the meal so that its metabolism benefits your body(If its junk food,this is the time where you pray for a less severe form of Coronary heart disease or hypertension)

Why in the prayer would you ask the Lord to bless the Kinangop farmers who grew the potatoes we have used for the meal?The fact that we have cooked their potatoes is a sure sign that they got blessed with sales.

Why would one when praying for food decide to thank Jesus for all of the miracles He did in the New Testament?The blind son of Bartimaeus surely deserved getting healed coz he seemed like a nice chap but what the hell has he got to do with the Ugali -Sukuma we are about to eat?

Making lengthy prayers in front of hungry people is like campaigning for an ass whooping.Somebody might just send you to the emergency department of the nearest health facility.Hypoglycemia makes human patience razor thin.

The only exception where one can can pray for long before a meal is when it is well known that the person who prepared the meal is a labbish cook.In every society,there are these people who think they are great cooks while in the real sense they are just food poisoning practitioners.Before eating food cooked by such people,you will surely need to pray about the imminent stomach upset.In fact,in this case pray vehemently until you start foaming at the mouth.

TOOTH BE TOLD.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that white is a nice colour.White is peace. White is purity. White is calmness (except for those all white parties you people attend in clubs, there’s nothing calm about them).

I am not so enthusiastic about white things (ugali doesn't count).Consequently, I have a jaundiced opinion about white clothes; they are the spoilt brats of the clothes fraternity. They get dirty without even trying;simply getting soiled by atmospheric gases.

In my campus life, the only white things in my life have consistently been the classical triad of a Lab coat, books and toilet paper. Two years ago, I decided to add my teeth to this list so I made a visit to the School of Dentistry (SOD).

I had to undergo scaling. It’s a minor procedure which can be done by the senior dental undergraduate students. I had lots of options to choose from from the dental class of finalists that year and after a thorough vetting, I had 3 closely tied candidates.

The 1^st candidate was my neighbour, a very dedicated chap but I didn't like his Afro, so he was out. The next guy; a good friend ,was a well-built bloke and that made me fear that he would pluck out my jaw during the procedure. So he was also out.

The last guy was the perfect candidate; no ridiculous Afro and he was not extremely muscular. Even much better, he was my roommate back in our junior years. I looked for him and made an appointment.

The day of the procedure I went very early to SOD and found my guy ready. 

He was twirling some dental instrument like a cow boy holstering a revolver, just to establish dominance. He was also smiling suspiciously. These two acts got me worried that may be he was using the procedure as an opportunity to settle old scores. You see, back when we were roommates he had lend me some 50 bob and each time he tried to demand for it I got instant deafness(My name is DENIs, how do you expect me to pay a deni?)

I prayed hard that the young dentist didn't inject something lethal into my gums making all my teeth fall off like the flowers of a jacaranda tree.

 Surprisingly, there was no any crying or gnashing of teeth on my part. Most likely my good pal had forgotten all about his 50 bob.

We were told many things in our child hood. Some of the things turned out to be a scam. Taking care of our teeth is not one of them. Whatever you heard about dental hygiene as a child most likely still remains true even as you adult. Try to practice it.

"Always be kind to your dentists, they too have fillings."-John Kibogoyo.

THE CIRCULAR FLOW OF INCOME.

You put your hand in your pockets;they feel very empty except for your gonads.You are so broke that whenever somebody calls you 'bro' you get angry coz you think that's short form for broke.

1.You call a friend.You explain to him how you've been trying to love money but money hasn't been loving you back,you only see her with other guys.You further inform him how you are planning to go to bed for supper.He sends you cash via mobile money transfer.

2.You start dancing.

3.Your phone vibrates.You stop dancing.Several whatsapp messages.They are from the group 'sure bets'.

4.Someone has just shared some odds and he's swearing by his grandmother's dress that they are 1000% sure.

5.Suddenly you don't feel hungry anymore.The money you got from your friend finds itself in one of the local betting sites.

6.Bet placed.You decide to nap to conserve the remaining little energy.

7.You dream that you  are eating some sweet loaf of bread.You wake up 2hrs later only to realise that you have been chewing your own matress.

8.You open the live score app.All the games on your multibet have won except for one which is still in progress.The good news is that that one remaining team(let's call it Tialala Fc) is 2-0 up at half time.

9.50th minute,65th minute,70th minute;Tialala Fc are still two nil up.

10.You realise that you are on the verge of winning a tidy sum of money.You mentally start making a to-buy list.

11."Hi beautiful",you text the chic upstairs.

12.10 minutes later she hasn't replied.May be she used a pigeon to reply or she sent a smoke signal.You check outside, there's no smoke coming out of her room.You don't see any pigeon either outside.

13."Hi",she finally replies.

14."Busy tonight?"You text back at the speed of light.

15."No ",she replies."Feel like going out?I'l cater for everything"

16."Really?""Yeah,believe me sweery,I gat enough to feed the needy."

17."O.k,handsome,Iam in."Handsome? Wasn't it the other day that this same chic claimed that you are as ugly as a duckling?Anyway yaliyondwele sipite.

18.While you are busy texting the Devil gets a call."Yo' boss,agent demon 666 here.Our man on the ground reports  that some dude from Kenya is 5 minutes away from winning a hefty sum through betting."

19."Kenya?""Yes boss,that country in Africa whose citizens elect millionaires who then appoint other millionaires to try and fix the system that made them millionaires."

20."Oh!I remember that country.I will take care of that dude fam."

21.Your phone vibrates.A notification from the livescore app.Tialala Fc have conceded a goal.It's the 89th minute,no worries.

22.Phone vibrates again.Tialala Fc better not have conceded another goal.

23.Tialala Fc have conceded another goal.92nd minute.

24.Phone vibrates.Full time score 2-2.

25.Phone rings.It's the chic from upstairs."Hello,I'm ready let's go."

26.You want to put your phone into a blender and crush it but you quickly remember you don't own a blender.It was in the mental  to-buy list.

27.A whatsapp message from the group sure bet.It's the guy who shared the 1000% sure odds.He says that he's very sorry.If only you could get him you would hit him so hard with your right hand that he would beg you to use your left.

28.Meanwhile your hunger has resurfaced.You stomach growls loudly;so loudly that your neighbour texts your "brathe punguza volume ya woofer."You want to go over and hit him in the face with a meat tenderizer .You remember you don't own a meat tenderizer.Just like the blender,it was in the to buy list.

29.Elsewhere,the Devil is having fun."Hahaha!"He laughs as he slaps his knee."Honey what's funny?",asks his wife."Nothing,just work related stuff.""Come to bed,I'm cold.""Cold?But we are in hell!"His wife gives him an angry stare."O.k,I'm coming,lemme first change my whatsapp status.

30.The Devil then changes his whatsapp status from 'Uhuruto tano tena' to 'Good day in office'.

FOREIGN EXCHANGE.

One Friday night in the company of some people who claim to be my friends,I found myself crossing the border into Busia Uganda in search of greener  yellower pastures.After strolling around in the night,we 'accidentally' got into a large building where they serve not- so-soft soft drinks.

 A nice looking human being crossed my path of vision.As you can recall from your Physics ,light travels in a straight line so I couldn't help but notice.There is this famous saying"When in Rome,do as Kenyans do",so I went after her in hot pursuit.

Many years ago, Scientists met and unanimously agreed that tall people cannot dance(I think it was also during this conference that they decided that the scientific name for cleavage was the mammary sulcus,but that's beside the point).I decided to defy science and show that daughter of Museveni some Kenyan moves.

The dancing was fine until hypoglycemia came knocking.You see,with rice being my respiratory substrate(ugali then had become a luxury),I couldn't keep up with my Ugandan counterpart who was being fuelled by matoke.I excused myself and went to look for 10%Dextrose.

Back in Kenya while closing my personal books of account ,I realised that there was some cash which was unaccounted for.Then it hit me that the Museveni girl might have helped herself with it.

At some point while dancing ,she might have softly rubbed  my anterior frontanelle leaving me in status happilepticus and then proceeding to do her thing.In my defense,I thought this frontanelle rubbing  business was a signature Ugandan dance move.

When trading,it is only fair to let your trading partner know when you are taking his/her money in exchange of the services you have offered.What that Ugandan beauty did is against the East African Community spirit.

With the help of a four figure elementary maths table and a scientific calculator(fx-82ms),I came to find out that the actual sum lost was almost worth two month's daily supply of avocado.F*#%ing unbelievable!


All I ever wanted was to represent my nation and the boy child.Is this too much to ask for?

Anyway,yaliyo ndwele si pite.

DEADLY PREY.

The other day I was strolling somewhere In Kenya.The sun was blazing so I decided to shelter at some bus stop before that heat  denatured my enzymes.A few minutes later,I was joined by a lady.She was definitely in a hurry for she kept throwing glances down the road.

She was beautiful.So beautiful that if she was a vegetable then she would be a cutecumber.She had those type of eyes that make you confess things you didn't even do.I remember one instance where she innocently looked at me and I almost claimed responsibility for the 1994 Mtongwe ferry disaster.

Her forehead was perfect.I would have let her headbutt me all day long if she wanted to.

She was in a decent mini-skirt,not those little things the size of a belt I see people wear in Campus.Need I say that she had better legs than an isosceles triangle?

 In short she was without blemish;I could drink her bath water.This kind of beauty might be the real reason why our good Lord gifted us with eyeballs.

Chics are experts in thwarting mens' attempts to get their phone numbers.Sometimes they do it so harshly that the man in question is left feeling more unwanted than the 1st slice of bread.I didn't want to be a part of this statistics so I went into a corner and come up with some strategy.

1.Greet her.
2.Nicely ask her her name.
3.Say how sweet her name sounds(even if it's Jezebel)
4.Tell her that I bet her phone number sounds even sweeter than her name.
5.Be given the number.
6. Text her later how I wish to be wrapped around her heart like her  coronary arteries.

A strong wind blew past .I took it as a sign of my ancestors' approval of my strategy."Kijana wetu ako ndani,ndaaaaani,ndani kabisa."

I was about to go through my strategy for the last time when a matatu appeared on the horizon.The conductor started to bang its side violently and it began to lose speed.My potential soul mate started picking up her things.I panicked.

"Hi, Iam Dennis and I am writing a phonebook,can I have your number?"

KEEPING FIT.

People engage in different activities to keep fit and stay healthy.Some follow a strict diet like eating a grain of rice per day or drinking recycled dish water.Others participate in various sports and games.

One of the most confusing sports is swimming coz sometimes you do it for fun,other times you do it not to die.Another interesting sport is Karate,for those of you who don't know;Karate is the ancient Japanese art of getting people to buy lots of belts.White,yellow,gold,orange,blue,purple,brown,red or/and black belts.


I used to be in the school volley ball team.There are 2 reasons why I am no longer a member:
1.Academics-books made me busier than a one legged man in a ass-kicking contest.
2.Lemme tell you a story....

Some few years ago we went for a tournament at Egerton University.We were up against the hosts in our first game.Our first shock of the day came after we saw the Egerton squad.It had two Shaquille O'neils,a Peter Crouch,the big show and several Manuel Neuers.We wondered amongst ourselves if this was Egerton University South Sudan branch or what.

Things got really thick after the match kicked off.The ball was being constantly smashed into our side of the court at a malicious speed and force.One deadly ball caught one of our players on the chest.He immediately sunk into the ground.We rushed to the scene praying that he had not acquired some artificial form of pectus excavatum.His chest had became erythematous on inspection.On palpation it felt hotter than the bottom of a HP laptop.

Another one of our boys got hit so hard on the head that when he finally got up,he walked like a newborn calf.

After witnessing the attempted thoracotomy and craniotomy,I told my fellow substitutes "acheni niende hivo nakam." I then teleported the hell out of that place.There was no way I was going to play against those Egerton giants.I was not born to just one day die from the actions of some very tall strangers.Something which I even feared more than death was the Egerton guys deciding to hit us below the belt(pun intended).

I came later towards the end of the 2nd set(of course,we obviously lost the 1st one).Our boys were doing a wonderful job:ducking deadly balls which most of the times were aimed at their vital organs.

A small cheering jeering squad of Masinde Muliro University chics had gathered around our players.One pretty chic asked me why I wasn't playing.I lied that I had sustained a terrible injury during training but quickly proceeded to explain that the injury prevented me from playing only,I could perform other 'social activities' effectively.She smiled sheepishly and went on to cheer our boys who were still break dancing in the court avoiding getting hit.

After that game,the whole team was ready to go back to Eldoret even if it was on foot.

Since I quit playing volleyball,I've tried to remain fit.These are some the activities I do:

1.Sprinting to those 7 am classes(coz most probably I have woken up at 6:48am)

2.Doing gymnastics in the bathroom every time the cold water touches my trapezius muscle.

3.Lifting.....heavy pieces.....of ugali from the plate into my mouth.

4.Running out of answers during clinical examinations.

5.Chasing after money in the local betting sites.

6.Jehovah's fitness(see what I did there)-being inherently fit due to the grace of God.

So when you greet me 'sasa?' I genuinely reply 'fiti' coz I know I am  fit AF.

POOL PARTY.

I am enjoying my holiday in county number 17 and it's pure nostalgia remembering our childhood play time activities. One of our favourite activity was swimming in any depression where rain water had collected. This kind of swimming is known as Duf mpararo in Sheng'.

We celebrated the onset of the rainy seasons more than the farmers.During the whole season we were aquatic creatures by day and terrestrial beings by night with much of the nightlife involving us being flogged by angry parents for neglecting our domestic chores.

I remember my debut in Duf mpararo. It was quite eventful. First I had several oral sips of the muddy water owing to the fact that there were several deep ends all over that pool. Coming to think of it , the entire pool was like one big deep end. I was then  taken out of the pool, tummy full of water.After some time I was belching air which smelt of mud. I also had succussion splash everytime I moved.Later that evening I came home looking like a lizard thanks to the brown water I had swam in. I was hit like those Salvation Army drums.

After that beating I grew wiser. I started carrying some petroleum jelly to the swimming sessions. In the evening I would then appear at home shinning suspiciously like a doughnut.  Unfortunately, this trick was Short lived. A few days later I came  from swimming,  shinning as usual. I met my mom and tried to act calm and collected coz you know moms can  smell fear. The way I was shinning I am sure she was wondering whether to call me  son or sun.

 'Why are your eyes red? You either must have been swimming or smoking bhang. Which one is it?' Pleading guilty to any of the accusations was outright suicide.I was caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea.  My small brain started racing trying to find a valid explanation as to why my eyes had the color of ripe tomatoes. It churned out a lame reason of how I had encountered the village bully who had then  rubbed 3 kilograms of ground pepper into my eyes. African moms are automatic bull shit detecting machines so I got an instant beating. This time the beating lasted for so long that I had to pretend  I was dying(I think I started vibrating like a turning fork) for it to stop.

As the rainy seasons  progressed we swam even more and the number of beatings of course increased in equal proportion.Almost every night , no sooner had I finished my supper than my mom would  appear like a ninja, weapon of ass destruction in hand. She would then proceed to visit every quadrant of my gluteus maximus.(God knows how my Sciatic nerves survived.... that's why Iam a believer!). I would then be sent to bed with 'Nisiskie sauti ata kidogo'  as the bedtime story.

The next day I would still go swimming.Thug life!

It was not until the rainy seasons were over that we would stop going swimming.

We later outgrew this madness.

Many years later, I still think that all the mud mad fun we had in Duf mpararo was worth every beating.

RED LABELS.

There is a wide variety of liquor available in the kenyan market to any imbiber who's willing and able to buy. Some of this stuff is of superb quality. The remaining lot (based on statistics from whiskeypedia)remains to be questioned.Let's talk about the latter.

First , I have a bone to pick with the drinks' manufacturers. False advertisement.For instance you can't just brag to the public how your product is as smooth as the tongue of a snake, only for consumers to find out otherwise.

 Secondly,I think these drinks should come with labels hinting their likely side effects. Here are some  few examples how some of the labels should read:

1. 1000% bile. 
This should be put on all those drinks that taste like Quinine.
A good drink is supposed to have a gentle bitterness that one can languish and luxuriate in. What most of these drinks have is another kind of bitterness;one which is poignant, piercing and leaves you teary.

2. Maini/nyama choma. 
This label should be put on the drinks that are known not to interact well with human tissue.
Legend(no pun intended) has it that in Kenya,most of these drinks are taken  while leaning towards the left side so that they don't get to your liver.

3. Don't drink and walk(or even sit).
This label should be included on the drinks that are known to cause acute flaccid paralysis.The ones that make your musculoskeletal system do the Mannequin challenge after just a few sips.

4.Jet fuel. 
Drinks which make the user think that he/she can defy gravity should have the above label.It would then not come out as a surprise when the drinker starts climbing on top of furniture while singing 'I believe I can fly'. 

5. Isaac Ruto challenge accepted.
This label should be on those drinks that lead you to all sort of trouble;insults, assaults. Drinks which make you produce sonorous and ceaseless cries as you perambulate the dark streets. Cries which are music to the ears of cops and robbers alike.

6.Kamnyweso project fame.
This should be put in bold on those drinks which make people think that they are Busta Rhymes while in real sense they sound like Worsta Rhymes.

7. Visions.
This should be on every liquor bottle containing any stuff that can make you see , think and/or  feel(nonexistent)things. Am talking about strange thoughts and behaviour. From you thinking that you are engaged to Ngina Kenyatta(harusinations) to going to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet bowl and then you start looking for  a safety belt.

8. Utachesa ni ka umepigwa radi.
A huge label bearing the above words should be put on every liquor that makes you think that you can dance. You hit the dance floor with moves which drunk you thinks are like Jagger's, only for sober you to later see a clip of your dancing, and realise that you had moves like a jigger.

9.The antifunny liquid. 
This label I think should be on almost every drink. Then it would act as a warning that that any one  who sips them will start churning out lame jokes. Jokes so dry that no amount of KLY jelly in the world can help redeem them

1O. Bad decision juice.
All drinks deserve to have this label.In this case then you will have nobody to blame if you make awful life decisions.Decisions like calling your mom at midnight asking her why she doesn't  have any children.



PS:Excuse my vodkabulary.

HARUSINATIONS.

The other day I was perambulating among the shelves in some supermarket looking for the smallest available quantity of toothpaste.As I attempted to bend down and pick the toothpaste,I heard somebody greet me from behind.I nearly broke my neck while trying to quickly turn and see the owner of such a sultry voice.
 
The owner didn't disappoint; she was phat.

I shook her hand and she felt delicate like a baby dolphin.She also had those smiling eyes,the type that shouldn't be closed even when the owner is sleeping.

The owners' of that supermarket were very lucky that she wasn't in the the frozen stuff section coz she would have already melted everything.

She asked me if I could direct her to the beverages section to which I wholeheartedly agreed.Off we went. She picked up some tins which of course I didn't even notice what they contained coz  I was busy having some ophthalmic nutrition.

She thanked me and wished me nice shopping.Which shopping?I told her how I was on my way from the electronics section and had got captivated by the design of the packaging in the toothpaste section where she had found me.I went on to lament how those TVs in that supermarket were too small for my liking.I then expressed how I wouldn't mind but help her continue shopping considering that I had finished my business in that supermarket.She smiled,a smile that could kick Malaria out of Africa,and agreed.

We got on like a house on fire and in a moment we were talking about random stuff.For instance I remember boasting being the great grandson to the legendary Mbau Nzyuko,a man who was known for his cool hobbies like stitching up broken eggs and milking buffaloes while sitting on a python.

With the only 'gal'  in my life being my gallbladder,I saw no harm in exchanging contacts with the lovely lady.I was on the verge making such a suggestion when my alarm went off.I woke up diaphoretic.

I lay in bed for most of that morning debating with myself whether it was witchcraft or sheer ill-fate that a dream so promising got brutally cut short.

Since then I have been hoping that this dream comes back.Unfortunately, all I have been having are night mares and night terrors;from Alexis Sanchez suffering a season long-injury to Donald Trump winning the U.S.A elections.

I haven't given up yet though .My 'dream' is still valid.

BAD DAY.

If you are a Kenyan,unless you live under a rock or encased in a soundproof bubble wrap,chances are that you have at one time heard about the HELB students' loan reading allowance.

Research has shown that this money is cursed,or how else can you explain the insatiable urge to spend that follows the disbursement of this money into students' accounts?Why can't this money last even for a fortnight?

A few weeks ago,rumours had emerged that something was in our bank accounts.At that period,I was walking in the valley of the shadow of "brokeness" so I treated those rumours with utmost seriousness.

On that day,I went to bed earlier than usual coz earlier to bed,earlier to rise and earlier to arrive at the ATM the next morning.I was planning to wake up before the proverbial early bird.

With such kind of good news,you cannot help but have quality dreams.So most of my dreams that night involved me either driving  Ferraris or sipping some aged wine out of chalices while talking to gorgeous dames.

My dreams had reached ecstatic levels when the alarm decided to cut them short.The only thing that prevented me from crushing the alarm was that it was my phone.I then remembered that I had an important matter to attend to and bounded out of my room with Hector Bellerin-ish kind of pace.

I was joined by a fellow comrade who was also going to check the status of  his reading allowance.We sprinted towards the bank.It would have taken more than a bullet to the heart to stop us.

At the ATM the comrade went in first.When he emerged out after a few seconds with eyes the colour of weak tea ,I knew that his account was empty.I went in next and almost fainted coz my account was also empty.As empty as an account can be.I muttered profanities and then walked  out of the ATM crumbled receipt still in my hand.

The comrade asked me whether I got unlucky too.I tried responding in the affirmative but ended up sounding like a rhinoceros suffering from nasal catarrh.

Back at school I decided to use the little money I had left by staking it  in a mshipi(read multi-bet) in one of the local betting sites.That bet ended up being disastrous.The Devil surely was working hard that day.He probably was clocking double shifts on all of his jobs.

For those soulless comrades who at that time started the nasty rumours that HELB money was out,I don't have enough middle fingers to express how I feel about you.

For the betting companies,I swear by Toto's grave that one of these days am gonna make you pay.

PS:Toto was our beloved donkey who died while I was in class five.Still at heart.

KUNG FU(D)..

Long time ago, something quite strange happened in my home area. It was many years ago, a time when Kenyans preferred actual food to teargas, people lived in Mukuru kwa Njenga instead of Mukuru Kwa Zuckerberg (read facebook)and the word sponsor actually meant a good Samaritan who was paying for your school fees instead of some octogenarian who gave you money for your honey (I hear these days they are called `blessers')......by the way  when you hear your girl proclaiming that she's blessed,dude,be very suspicious.

Now, the actual happenings of what I am going to narrate were told to me by a third party who had witnessed them all like findyo like ndrama.I might have added a word or two to the original version but, hey,even Kaligraph  Jones did Ojuelegba refix and we are all cool with it.

It all started with the late Hon. Njega Karume making an impromptu visit to the area. At that time visiting Ukambani while carrying some relief food with you was thought quite fashionable by the politicians. So the late Mheshimiwa not wanting to look like a mtiaji  brought lots of food with him.

Hon.Karume with the Local M.P addressed the people and then took off leaving the local administration in charge of distributing the food. People were divided into their respective sub-locations with their sub chiefs in charge.

One sub chief saw it prudent to first ‘remove’ a speech before he gave food to his people. He stood on a sack of maize so that his people could hear as well see him as he oozed wisdom and words of nation building.

Unfortunately, some guy who was not a huge fan of speeches or sub chiefs for that matter got quite impatient. He pulled the sack which the sub chief stood on. One sad thing about gravity is that it is no respector of titles. It D(oesn’t)GAF  if you lead an entire sublocation,so the administrator came tumbling down like a plane shot from the sky by an enemy drone.

Before the other sub chiefs could scream ‘akiangai!’, it became full chaos. What was initially a normal relief food distribution exercise quickly turned into an exhibition of close combat tactics. Karate chops, weave-pulling, kicks to the groin, Kidero slaps and ’‘Makueni punches were all on full display.

Makueni punches (ngumi sya Makueni) was a term which was used to describe some kind of punches which at that time were popular in the lower Makueni County. The first step in executing these punches in a fight involved dashing into the opposite direction. Your opponent at first would think that you were running away only for him to discover too late that it was just a maneuver to add more velocity and sting to the forthcoming blow. Another thing which your opponent discovered too late was that he should have bought a new set of teeth before that fight.

Back to the relief food chaos.

The intensity of the slaps that were being thrown around made you question the intentions of your assailant:" does this guy want to render me comatose? Why is this lady attempting to perform some  illegal craniotomy on me without my informed consent?" I particularly remember being told the story of one bespectacled fellow who on grabbing a sack of maize dashed for the fence only to be stopped dead on his tracks with smack by a Popeye -like arm . Legend has it that he got hit so hard across the face that his glasses almost shrunk into contact lenses.

Another unfortunate incidence that I can recall of involved an old man.The mzee had picked a few Jerri cans of corn oil and was strolling leisurely when he got swept off his feet and the Jerri cans taken while he was still in flight. By the time he landed and tried to look up to see whose manner less son was that, neither the oil nor his assailant were in sight.

Tragedy struck in broad daylight when some lady decided to use the lower part of her skirt to ferry some ndegus back to her handbag. Poor life decision. Everyone was upon her like white on rice and within seconds her skirt was floating high in the air like a blade of grass. It’s alleged that the perpetrators of this heinous act were some Fisiotherapy graduates who had been earlier heard swearing that ‘Leo tunadandia kama mathree chopper.'

Another person who made a bad life decision on that day was the chief. Seeing that his assistants had failed to control the rowdy crowd, he decided to do it himself. He charged into the crowd, stick in hand. The stick broke after he struck two or three people. Some patriotic citizen present then decided to reward the chief’s heroic efforts by emptying a whole packet of milk powder on his head.

It was not until all food had been looted or mixed with soil that normalcy returned. People then did the walk of shame back to their homes.

 Anyway, this is what happens when you bring relief food to people who really don’t need it.

SHOPPING MANENOS

 Late last year around November, there was an event back at home that required several printed t-shirts. So I set off for the capital city of U.K (Ukambani); Machakos where I was to meet my cousin who would then add some feminine magic to the t-shirt shopping thing.

We began our task immediately after I arrived at Machakos.

We were warmly received at the first shop where we quickly stated our problem.  The t-shirts were there alright but they cost water and firewood. At that cost the sales from those t-shirts could significantly fund the construction of the new Machakos.

We got the hell outta that shop as fast we could and decided to try the open air market.

We soldiered on to the New Jerusalem .I think the previous sentence sounds weird. In my defense I’ll quote what Pilate said when the Chief priests asked him to change the writing on Christ’s cross: “What I have written, I have written. “Most of you will protest that there’s no such statement in the bible.Tsk! Watoto wa Ibilisi.It’s John 19:21-22.

Back to the t-shirts. We made a stop at the first stall in the market and informed the vendor that we needed more than 20 t-shirts. Emphasis on 20.He went berserk.He started ransacking his own stall and then took off like a bee-stung farmer. We took some seats still in shock and eagerly waited for his return.

I couldn’t help but eavesdrop to a hilarious conversation which was going on a few stalls away. Classical gossip. A lady was talking about some guy called Muendo.From what I was hearing Muendo didn’t like it his children being served food before him. The story teller went on to quote Muendo-“Watoto watakulaje mbele yangu na mimi ndio hufanya kazi ngumu?Eh?Na ata huyo mtoto ashibe na apate gunia ya mahindi kando ya barabara haezi beba.Wallahi siku yenye nitaamka nipate hakuna chakula kwa hio nyumba nitanyonya mama yao kwanza ndio nipate nguvu ya kwenda kuwatafutia chakula."

”

Well I knew some grown up Kenyan men nyonyad for fun, but for nutritional purpose?!Man that was new.

I was still smiling when our vendor appeared carrying a mountain of t-shirts. All kind of t-shirts. Some were so huge that they could be used as curtains while others were something between a vest and a bra. We shook our heads in obvious disapproval.

Other vendors come to the aid of their colleague.”Si mnataka t-shirt plain, moja ndio hii”, said the woman who had been gossipping about Muendo .Plain must have several meanings because the t-shirt she was holding had a huge label of Hugo Boss written across it.

                                                                     

There was no way we were buying t-shirts from that market, even if they called the local chief to convince us using his rungu. Mind you, being struck with a chief’s rungu is one of the most painful things one earth. This is no chance statement said in the by going; it’s something I say having witnessed several people get hit with the rungu. I will give you two incidences.

The first incidence happened back in the village many years ago. Some lad who had smoked something very potent disrupted a women Chama meeting. The irate women then threatened to call the chief on him but he seemed unfazed. Assuming a cool-as-a-cucumber facade of togetherness, he boldly told them to their faces that he was only afraid of two things under the sun; uji moto (hot porridge) and mbwa ya jirani (his neighbor’s dog).After the chief was done with him with his rungu, I am sure he had a third thing to be really afraid of.

The other occurrence where I witnessed the magic of the chief’s rungu was when the former Vice-President Uncle Moody Awori visited a neighbouring primary school. It was also many years ago; I think I was in class five. Uncle Moody ensured that before his chopper took off there was something left behind for the people to feast on; tones of loaves of bread and a sea of soda. The pecks of having a Luhya Vice president. In case Kenya gets a Luhya Deputy President and he visits our place again he daren’t bring soda and bread this time round. You see, we are no longer in primary school; we grew up and went to campus and in campus we interact with cool kids. According to them 'taking soda and bread is kinda gross. Who does that?' He he.

Back to the chief’s rungu. Some guy decided that he wouldn’t queue and wait for his turn like everybody else. The chief descended on him with his rungu and abracadabra! The guy’s impatience and unwillingness to queue instantly vanished.

But not even the legendary chief’s rungu would make us buy those t-shirts. We left the market empty handed despite the vendors putting up quite a show.

Later in the evening we encountered some herbalist who was selling “ndawa ya pimples”.He looked at my face suspiciously and I felt my serial killer instincts start to kick in. All of a sudden I wanted to punch him in the heart.(Alright,  I know I have a few pimples here and there but they are non pathological, It’s just my underutilised awesomeness trying to escape from my body.) Seeing that nobody was interested in his concoctions the herbalist took off but not after threateningly informing us how we would have to cough 3 k  if we were to visit him in his “headquarters” in Kangundo. He also told us that he would be on Citizen TV the following day teaching the nation about his herbs .We acted shocked by such kind of  revelation.

Honestly you can’t just buy stuff from strangers and apply it to your face. God knows what might happen to you. You might wake up with a face that looks like a matomoko fruit or a chapatti.

Hawkers, open market vendors, roadside sellers etc. are significant to our economy. They also sometimes make shopping way much more convenient.

PESA PAP.

So you have decided to embrace laziness and wear it around like a comfortable coat, uh? It’s okay, who am I to judge you anyway?

 You can still be rich in Kenya without hard work though .I’ll tell you how.

1. Ask everyone in the country (fellow Kenyans, tourists, foreign diplomats, illegal immigrants …etc.) to give you one shilling each.

2. Join an evil cult whereby you provide them with people they can use as human sacrifice in exchange for money. Start with those people who think that my blog is boring.

3. Strategically erect a sign post advertising yourself as “Daktari kutoka Pemba” (yeah, say Pemba coz Kitui has become too mainstream)

Don’t forget to brag how you cure strange illnesses like “kushindwa kuosha sufuria iliyopikia ugali” .Say also how you make light skin chics reply to men’s texts real quick.Yeah,declare that men will no longer have to wait for text replies like telegrams thanks to your ‘’Dawa. ”

4. Sing a typical Kenyan club banger:

·         Ensure you use a funky beat. 

·         Name the song after a certain body part like “Kisugudi. ”

·         Make sure the lyrics tell us how you use the aforementioned body part to dance to the song.

5. Come up with a fake discovery on the medicinal value of a certain animal product. Make it a wild animal for it to sound more authentic.Ensure it gets good coverage in electronic, print and social media. For example you can claim that recent research has shown that a hippo’s milk makes ones skin smooth like that of a new born baby. Start then selling baby hippos to people at an astronomical price.

6. Join one of the various sports betting sites.

PS: For you to get rich through betting, you will have to pour lots of libation and make uncountable burnt offerings to you ancestors.

7. Have a daughter. Wait till somebody wants to marry her and ask for 5 million shillings coz “apart from being very educated, she knows how to boil water. ”

8.Start selling a concoction that allegedly enlarges bums and widens hips. Use creative business slogans like “nunua chupa nnne,upewe tatu na uongezewe moja.”

9. Change your name to Richard and insist that people call you Rich. Ignore all those who call you Richie.

10. Blog an article briefly giving tips to lazy people on how they can effortlessly get rich. Ask for money for you to give further details on the mentioned tips.

For further details on the above mentioned tips, MPESA a minimum of kshs 500 to 0702931630.

N.B: How many of you are wondering why I haven't used the above tips to get rich myself? Please raise up your hands. Wow! You are many. Now use the hands you have raised to slap yourselves.Mganga hajigangi.