Women are heartless capitalists, men are socialists
I have always insisted that women do not mean well for us. They are incorrigible thieves, blood suckers, parasites, pests and vampires. The way your phone will always ring when you have money- date, birthday, pussie, picnic, dinner, lunch, excursion, exhibition and even funerals. Listen to bitches calling you. ‘Please, can you make it; I need your company, don’t fail me honey blah blah.’ Everyday, every hour.
Because of your money, women can make you believe you are the most romantic, fly and handsome dude under the sun. In fact they will not mince words to tell you. They can even be poetic about it. They will search the net to get the most flirtatious words to write you every nite before you sleep. Wait till the money dries out. Your phone will hush up like a cemetery at nite. When you call, you get the most ridiculous of excuses. These vampires will disappear like ice in the Sahara. This is when it dawns on you that it was about your money not heart, humor, wit, height or hunk they claimed you were or possessed. Listen good, all women are prostitutes. It is only about what material benefit they are getting out of you. Forget about love. It is an obsolete word in their lingo.
Hear them sluts talk after your downfall- a cry babie, a wimp, a thick guy, lacks foresight, couldn’t even invest a cent, look at his car, unkempt, think he is balding, he has even lost weight, who needs a LOSER!
Before you continue reading this article, kindly note that all women are scheming gold diggers. Fiendishly smart whores!
I know it. Been there first hand. Before, could fuck bitches from am to pm. At one time, I had twelve regular girlfriends. Wait till I lost my job. The only females who call me are my sister and my mother. Period.
What prompted me to write this story was a bitch I met today in her neighborhood. She is called J. she is one of my former fucking gals. I met her next to her flat today; she greeted me casually and hurried away. She greeted me like I was someone who used to sell groundnuts in town. I was flummoxed, God! A gal I used to screw and give her bus fare and money for lunch to last a whole month dared snub me? The world is coming to a quick end. I could not believe it. Surprised me but not shocked me. I have gotten used to this now.
Surprised that a cheap gal who works as a waiter in some honky-tonk can rebuff me. An unschooled hayseed who makes less money than can feed a village mongrel for a single day. I concluded a bitch is a bitch. They think because you are broke today, tomorrow is your funeral! They think short term; I bet their brains are in their asses or stomach.
This bitch I had fucked for sometime. In fact I used to screw her and her younger sister. I started with the younger but her pussie developed some stinking smell. Real bad stinking pussie that was. I left her but this bitch started seducing me. And I fucked her. Now she dares take me for granted. Funny. She refused me her pussie when she heard I lost my job. Last time I heard she was fucking a 70 year old geezer.
My conclusion is this, when you have money, screw all the women you meet. Always bear in your mind that they are ONLY after your money. Fuck them and don’t give them a dime. Never go back to them again. Move on to another slut. Fuck her. Break her heart, blow up their pussies and shatter their asses. And on and on. Never buy them even a single drink. Never love any. They are all the same. Heartless whores. Treat them like trash and God will bless you. They are blood sucking creatures!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Women are heartless capitalists, men are socialists
I have always insisted that women do not mean well for us. They are incorrigible thieves, blood suckers, parasites, pests and vampires. The way your phone will always ring when you have money- date, birthday, pussie, picnic, dinner, lunch, excursion, exhibition and even funerals. Listen to bitches calling you. ‘Please, can you make it; I need your company, don’t fail me honey blah blah.’ Everyday, every hour.
Because of your money, women can make you believe you are the most romantic, fly and handsome dude under the sun. In fact they will not mince words to tell you. They can even be poetic about it. They will search the net to get the most flirtatious words to write you every nite before you sleep. Wait till the money dries out. Your phone will hush up like a cemetery at nite. When you call, you get the most ridiculous of excuses. These vampires will disappear like ice in the Sahara. This is when it dawns on you that it was about your money not heart, humor, wit, height or hunk they claimed you were or possessed. Listen good, all women are prostitutes. It is only about what material benefit they are getting out of you. Forget about love. It is an obsolete word in their lingo.
Hear them sluts talk after your downfall- a cry babie, a wimp, a thick guy, lacks foresight, couldn’t even invest a cent, look at his car, unkempt, think he is balding, he has even lost weight, who needs a LOSER!
Before you continue reading this article, kindly note that all women are scheming gold diggers. Fiendishly smart whores!
I know it. Been there first hand. Before, could fuck bitches from am to pm. At one time, I had twelve regular girlfriends. Wait till I lost my job. The only females who call me are my sister and my mother. Period.
What prompted me to write this story was a bitch I met today in her neighborhood. She is called J. she is one of my former fucking gals. I met her next to her flat today; she greeted me casually and hurried away. She greeted me like I was someone who used to sell groundnuts in town. I was flummoxed, God! A gal I used to screw and give her bus fare and money for lunch to last a whole month dared snub me? The world is coming to a quick end. I could not believe it. Surprised me but not shocked me. I have gotten used to this now.
Surprised that a cheap gal who works as a waiter in some honky-tonk can rebuff me. An unschooled hayseed who makes less money than can feed a village mongrel for a single day. I concluded a bitch is a bitch. They think because you are broke today, tomorrow is your funeral! They think short term; I bet their brains are in their asses or stomach.
This bitch I had fucked for sometime. In fact I used to screw her and her younger sister. I started with the younger but her pussie developed some stinking smell. Real bad stinking pussie that was. I left her but this bitch started seducing me. And I fucked her. Now she dares take me for granted. Funny. She refused me her pussie when she heard I lost my job. Last time I heard she was fucking a 70 year old geezer.
My conclusion is this, when you have money, screw all the women you meet. Always bear in your mind that they are ONLY after your money. Fuck them and don’t give them a dime. Never go back to them again. Move on to another slut. Fuck her. Break her heart, blow up their pussies and shatter their asses. And on and on. Never buy them even a single drink. Never love any. They are all the same. Heartless whores. Treat them like trash and God will bless you. They are blood sucking creatures!
I have always insisted that women do not mean well for us. They are incorrigible thieves, blood suckers, parasites, pests and vampires. The way your phone will always ring when you have money- date, birthday, pussie, picnic, dinner, lunch, excursion, exhibition and even funerals. Listen to bitches calling you. ‘Please, can you make it; I need your company, don’t fail me honey blah blah.’ Everyday, every hour.
Because of your money, women can make you believe you are the most romantic, fly and handsome dude under the sun. In fact they will not mince words to tell you. They can even be poetic about it. They will search the net to get the most flirtatious words to write you every nite before you sleep. Wait till the money dries out. Your phone will hush up like a cemetery at nite. When you call, you get the most ridiculous of excuses. These vampires will disappear like ice in the Sahara. This is when it dawns on you that it was about your money not heart, humor, wit, height or hunk they claimed you were or possessed. Listen good, all women are prostitutes. It is only about what material benefit they are getting out of you. Forget about love. It is an obsolete word in their lingo.
Hear them sluts talk after your downfall- a cry babie, a wimp, a thick guy, lacks foresight, couldn’t even invest a cent, look at his car, unkempt, think he is balding, he has even lost weight, who needs a LOSER!
Before you continue reading this article, kindly note that all women are scheming gold diggers. Fiendishly smart whores!
I know it. Been there first hand. Before, could fuck bitches from am to pm. At one time, I had twelve regular girlfriends. Wait till I lost my job. The only females who call me are my sister and my mother. Period.
What prompted me to write this story was a bitch I met today in her neighborhood. She is called J. she is one of my former fucking gals. I met her next to her flat today; she greeted me casually and hurried away. She greeted me like I was someone who used to sell groundnuts in town. I was flummoxed, God! A gal I used to screw and give her bus fare and money for lunch to last a whole month dared snub me? The world is coming to a quick end. I could not believe it. Surprised me but not shocked me. I have gotten used to this now.
Surprised that a cheap gal who works as a waiter in some honky-tonk can rebuff me. An unschooled hayseed who makes less money than can feed a village mongrel for a single day. I concluded a bitch is a bitch. They think because you are broke today, tomorrow is your funeral! They think short term; I bet their brains are in their asses or stomach.
This bitch I had fucked for sometime. In fact I used to screw her and her younger sister. I started with the younger but her pussie developed some stinking smell. Real bad stinking pussie that was. I left her but this bitch started seducing me. And I fucked her. Now she dares take me for granted. Funny. She refused me her pussie when she heard I lost my job. Last time I heard she was fucking a 70 year old geezer.
My conclusion is this, when you have money, screw all the women you meet. Always bear in your mind that they are ONLY after your money. Fuck them and don’t give them a dime. Never go back to them again. Move on to another slut. Fuck her. Break her heart, blow up their pussies and shatter their asses. And on and on. Never buy them even a single drink. Never love any. They are all the same. Heartless whores. Treat them like trash and God will bless you. They are blood sucking creatures!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
That was such a close shave with the law!
Handcuffed, in the dock, cameras flashing away, cops standing by my side, my head bowed in shame, a mean female judge reading charges of pedophilia…these are the images that were playing peek-a-boo in my mind as I went to open the door.
Know you wondering what the heck is goin on here. Let me put you in the picture. There is this new gal assisting her mum in selling groceries in their makeshift stall by the road. She has some brand new boobs, a fresh smile and a hot round ass. She is definitely a minor but her demeanor is way above her age. Guess her age is in the region of fourteen. Once asked her but she declined to tell me. She is such a cool chat. We normally exchange some jokes. Even when her mum is around, she doesn’t much care shouting some expletives on me. Her mum is also a sweet lady but somewhat overweight, I chose to postpone seducing her to some future date.
Yesterday, she was all alone in the stall. I bought some mangoes and asked her whether she could drop by my place for tea and maby catch some movie. She told me that she will be my guest for breakfast the next day (today). She requested for my number which I spelled out without much ado. Didn’t take her number though. I left there with a mixture of emotions. My moral conviction or more precisely fear for the law dictates that I keep my silly dick off underage gals. This aint easy, you see, this category are the most voluptuous and sumptuous of them all. Problem is the law men. Think they should adjust the age of majority to fourteen in the new constitution. Not that young gals are not getting fucked. They are. Fucked so hard. The rule is ‘never get yoself caught.’ This is one felony that can get you behind bars for a long long time. Besides, the sex pest label will stick for eternity.
At some minutes past 7 am today, my phone rang, I was still in bed. Being jobless means you can sleep yo ass off. The number was unfamiliar. I picked it up. Some musical voice asked for my door number. I said 109. The voice confidently said ‘gimme three minutes.’ She hang up before I could reply. Memories of yesterday hit me with a bang. The grocery gal! I was excited and anxious at the same time. As I came from the bathroom, a soft knock came from the door. I almost froze. I opened the door, and there she was, in full school uniform- a red sweater, blue tunic, white socks, black shoes and a confident smile. I was nonplussed for a second. She eased herself inside and planted a kiss on my cheek. It was sweet. I locked the door. She told me that I was such a lazy boy,
‘How could you be sleeping this late?’
‘Am a nocturnal animal’
‘Who were you screwing all nite?’
‘You, in ma dreams’
‘Cut the crap, where is my tea?’
‘Lets go to bed I finish my sleep then am gonna cook you some’
‘Ok. I won’t sleep. Just to watch you sleep like a fool’
In the bedroom, I switched on ma radio and tuned it to Capital FM. Some chick was talking about condoms. I jumped to bed while she sat at the edge as she fidgeted with my radio remote. She had nicely combed black hair. Parted to the side. Her white socks were short. Her tunic was above her knees to expose sugary thighs. The type I haven’t seen in a century. Almost pink in color. As I lied down, my dick failed to behave. I told her to join in me bed with her clothes on. For warmth as the weather was chilly. She was non-communicative. She sat there mute. I looked at her face and her eyes were lazy and watery. She was horny beyond talk. I got off her shoes and lifted her to bed. I pulled a blanket to cover us and held her.
What a kisser. That gal knows how to do it. Or is it part of the school syllabus? Been long since I was in school. She was an expert. She left me gasping for breath. I threw my blanket away, lifted her tunic to expose a red panty. I pulled it off. She parted her legs. I bent to kiss her pussy. She had sparse population of soft pubic hair. It was small and sweet and juicy. Her clit was slippery. She moaned softly and urged me to stop it. I continued, she wriggled with spasms of bliss. I pulled her sweater off. The sight of her bust did away with my sanity. Full n hard. I unbuttoned the few buttons and lifted her cream bra up. Those boobs were a sight to behold! Nipples erect and murderous! I kissed them for long.
She shouted me to either screw her or I let go. It was such a serious threat. I pushed my panty down and removed ma dick. In my bed drawer, I pulled out a condom, slit it open with my teeth and put it on with my right hand. I shoved it gently into her pussie. So wet n warm n hot. God! It was sweet. I rode missionary for a while before she turned up n indicated she wanted doggie. We doggied. That gal could shake you to hell. She came shouting faster! Faster! Hard! Hard! Done, I was sweating and exhausted. I threw my condom to the side of bed and held her in a tight embrace, what a sweet gal. To hell with the law.
A knock on the door startled me back to earth. Who is it? Fuck them, it is still early, who is the fuckin vagabond now? An angry female voice shouted open; I recognized the voice as her mother’s! Jesus motherfuckin Christ! No!
I told the gal to dress up. She was bamboozled beyond sense. I searched for her panty without success. Told her to do without it and to put on her shoes. I opened the backdoor silently and whispered her that she sneak out silently as I open the door for her mum. She obeyed.
I collected the spent condoms and flushed them down the toilet in case she was accompanied by the police or stupid neighbors. I went in my sleeping attire and opened the door. Thank God! The killjoy was alone. She was not screaming either. The woman came in and checked around my house without a question. She went to my bedroom. Learned what she was looking for was not there. By that time her daughter had gone through the front gate as her mum wasted time in my house. She made to go back.
I shut the door and pinched myself on my thigh to test whether it was a real. I laughed. What an anticlimax! But I tasted at least some flesh. I don’t know whether to look that woman again in the face.
‘That was such a sweeeeet one! Hope we have it again soon. Very soon! Don’t worry about mum; I will take care of that! By the way I was going for my closing day; guess what, I am position two. We should celebrate this in style. Cheers!’ this is the text that she has just sent me now! What a day this is! And it is not over yet.
Handcuffed, in the dock, cameras flashing away, cops standing by my side, my head bowed in shame, a mean female judge reading charges of pedophilia…these are the images that were playing peek-a-boo in my mind as I went to open the door.
Know you wondering what the heck is goin on here. Let me put you in the picture. There is this new gal assisting her mum in selling groceries in their makeshift stall by the road. She has some brand new boobs, a fresh smile and a hot round ass. She is definitely a minor but her demeanor is way above her age. Guess her age is in the region of fourteen. Once asked her but she declined to tell me. She is such a cool chat. We normally exchange some jokes. Even when her mum is around, she doesn’t much care shouting some expletives on me. Her mum is also a sweet lady but somewhat overweight, I chose to postpone seducing her to some future date.
Yesterday, she was all alone in the stall. I bought some mangoes and asked her whether she could drop by my place for tea and maby catch some movie. She told me that she will be my guest for breakfast the next day (today). She requested for my number which I spelled out without much ado. Didn’t take her number though. I left there with a mixture of emotions. My moral conviction or more precisely fear for the law dictates that I keep my silly dick off underage gals. This aint easy, you see, this category are the most voluptuous and sumptuous of them all. Problem is the law men. Think they should adjust the age of majority to fourteen in the new constitution. Not that young gals are not getting fucked. They are. Fucked so hard. The rule is ‘never get yoself caught.’ This is one felony that can get you behind bars for a long long time. Besides, the sex pest label will stick for eternity.
At some minutes past 7 am today, my phone rang, I was still in bed. Being jobless means you can sleep yo ass off. The number was unfamiliar. I picked it up. Some musical voice asked for my door number. I said 109. The voice confidently said ‘gimme three minutes.’ She hang up before I could reply. Memories of yesterday hit me with a bang. The grocery gal! I was excited and anxious at the same time. As I came from the bathroom, a soft knock came from the door. I almost froze. I opened the door, and there she was, in full school uniform- a red sweater, blue tunic, white socks, black shoes and a confident smile. I was nonplussed for a second. She eased herself inside and planted a kiss on my cheek. It was sweet. I locked the door. She told me that I was such a lazy boy,
‘How could you be sleeping this late?’
‘Am a nocturnal animal’
‘Who were you screwing all nite?’
‘You, in ma dreams’
‘Cut the crap, where is my tea?’
‘Lets go to bed I finish my sleep then am gonna cook you some’
‘Ok. I won’t sleep. Just to watch you sleep like a fool’
In the bedroom, I switched on ma radio and tuned it to Capital FM. Some chick was talking about condoms. I jumped to bed while she sat at the edge as she fidgeted with my radio remote. She had nicely combed black hair. Parted to the side. Her white socks were short. Her tunic was above her knees to expose sugary thighs. The type I haven’t seen in a century. Almost pink in color. As I lied down, my dick failed to behave. I told her to join in me bed with her clothes on. For warmth as the weather was chilly. She was non-communicative. She sat there mute. I looked at her face and her eyes were lazy and watery. She was horny beyond talk. I got off her shoes and lifted her to bed. I pulled a blanket to cover us and held her.
What a kisser. That gal knows how to do it. Or is it part of the school syllabus? Been long since I was in school. She was an expert. She left me gasping for breath. I threw my blanket away, lifted her tunic to expose a red panty. I pulled it off. She parted her legs. I bent to kiss her pussy. She had sparse population of soft pubic hair. It was small and sweet and juicy. Her clit was slippery. She moaned softly and urged me to stop it. I continued, she wriggled with spasms of bliss. I pulled her sweater off. The sight of her bust did away with my sanity. Full n hard. I unbuttoned the few buttons and lifted her cream bra up. Those boobs were a sight to behold! Nipples erect and murderous! I kissed them for long.
She shouted me to either screw her or I let go. It was such a serious threat. I pushed my panty down and removed ma dick. In my bed drawer, I pulled out a condom, slit it open with my teeth and put it on with my right hand. I shoved it gently into her pussie. So wet n warm n hot. God! It was sweet. I rode missionary for a while before she turned up n indicated she wanted doggie. We doggied. That gal could shake you to hell. She came shouting faster! Faster! Hard! Hard! Done, I was sweating and exhausted. I threw my condom to the side of bed and held her in a tight embrace, what a sweet gal. To hell with the law.
A knock on the door startled me back to earth. Who is it? Fuck them, it is still early, who is the fuckin vagabond now? An angry female voice shouted open; I recognized the voice as her mother’s! Jesus motherfuckin Christ! No!
I told the gal to dress up. She was bamboozled beyond sense. I searched for her panty without success. Told her to do without it and to put on her shoes. I opened the backdoor silently and whispered her that she sneak out silently as I open the door for her mum. She obeyed.
I collected the spent condoms and flushed them down the toilet in case she was accompanied by the police or stupid neighbors. I went in my sleeping attire and opened the door. Thank God! The killjoy was alone. She was not screaming either. The woman came in and checked around my house without a question. She went to my bedroom. Learned what she was looking for was not there. By that time her daughter had gone through the front gate as her mum wasted time in my house. She made to go back.
I shut the door and pinched myself on my thigh to test whether it was a real. I laughed. What an anticlimax! But I tasted at least some flesh. I don’t know whether to look that woman again in the face.
‘That was such a sweeeeet one! Hope we have it again soon. Very soon! Don’t worry about mum; I will take care of that! By the way I was going for my closing day; guess what, I am position two. We should celebrate this in style. Cheers!’ this is the text that she has just sent me now! What a day this is! And it is not over yet.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
FREEBIES IN THE AIR!
The year 2009 was such a good year for riff-raffs, scum and the ‘downtrodden’. Manna is falling from heaven. The manual is simple; masquerade as a squatter in Mau or an IDP in the various never ending camps, attract media attention, look miserable on TV, your tribal Mps to make a lot of noise and voila! You are inside the gravy train. The catch is patience and the will to waste a lot of time. This is not hard for a people who have resigned themselves to fate and didn’t have much to do anyway.
Tribalism in Kenya has made commonsense impossible. Most genuine IDPs might have gone back to their farms when peace returned a long time ago. Not many Kenyans would waste time begging for the government ear and aid when you are used to reaping from your own sweat. Impostors made blackmail unions and appointed spokespeople to hoodwink the government to buy land and resettle them elsewhere. The big question is, when your houses were burnt, what happened to the land?
Since the IDPs were Kikuyu, and voters for that matter, Kikuyu leaders made a concerted and unified campaign for their resettlement. And behold! They were resettled. Not a single MP or leader dared questioned this initiative. Opposing a tribal standpoint is treasonable. In any case, the sight was an eyesore didn’t augur well for our international image! The Minister of Finance, whose docket was responsible for financing the resettlement, was Magnanimous enough to sell them his father’s Gicheha farm. What generosity from Uhuru Kenyatta!
When that was done, there came the Mau issue. A noble initiative to reclaim a vital water tower but which meant that the people who had illegally encroached forest land over the years would have to be evicted. The Mau circus was then made to grip the nation. The debate of course degenerated into a tribal contest. The Kalenjin leaders protested that their people are being targeted for persecution by the Prime Minister, Hon Raila Odinga.
When the vacating notice lapsed, the encroachers trooped out, on their volition. Obviously peasant farmers, poverty was evident from their faces, clothes, and the few belongings they clutched on their wiry hands. Even the structures they had called home depicted a life of misery and penury. I would have said the best thing to have happened to these people was to be evicted from that God forsaken land but the vote hungry tribal chiefs see it differently. Climate or no climate, these are our people who have every right to live in the forest. What belies their newfound crusade for the rights of the poor is the hearts and minds they will win for championing the community cause. Viva Ruto!
I happen to come from the original homeland of these ‘forest squatters’. In the early 90s, there was talk of free fertile land in Tinet. (According to us, the land that is now referred to as Mau is generally referred to as Tinet). What started the exploit was that prior to the first multi-party elections of 1992, the Moi government offered to settle all the squatters in the Rift Valley in a place Mauche, land that was hived off from the Mau complex for the purpose. That was done. This kicked off the exodus to Mau.
Historically, there have been several bids by people from the Kipsikiis community to alienate part of the forest for settlement. A bid that was always thwarted by the government. It is part of the folklore that our forefathers had warned the community not to inhabit Tinet (now referred to as Mau) for reasons that has never been explained. The belief is widely held. There is even a folk song to that effect. Even the Mau evictees know it too well. What begs to be explained is why this people insisted on Mau in the first place.
Apart from political reasons, I can give account to some reasons. Since my neighbors are part of the squad, I can pinpoint as to why each and every one of them migrated to Mau.
First, the majority of the Mau forest settlers were basically expansionists. They had and still have arable land in my home area but they wanted more land. Off they went to Mau. When some of them didn’t secure titles, they came back. Some stayed put to date. They are now in the camps. But they have land at their home of origin.
The second lot was simply happy-go-lucky freebooters. They sold off their lands and squandered the money, when it was over; reality dawned and wanted a place to live in. And off they set off to Mau for free land.
Related to the above category are people who sold of heir small pieces of land to buy a bigger one in the forest even though they knew very well that the land had no title deeds. Some wanted to enjoy part of the money.
The last is a very interesting group. Outcasts, thieves, divorcees, and rapists make up this bunch. The moment the police is looking for you to answer for cattle rustling or any crime, there was a no man’s land free from the law and where you could also chance some land. Women who could not put up with their husbands found a safe haven in Mau. These are the people our leaders are fighting the government for compensation.
In the 90s and early 2000s, there were fraudsters and brokers marauding in Bomet and Trans Mara Districts and I believe other Kalenjin districts collecting money and ID cards to secure people land in Mau. I remember my mum dismissing them that no land can be bought for two hundred bob. Many people fell prey and followed them to Mau. Many were to miss voting in 97 and 2002 because their IDs were in Mau. These are the people crying to be resettled.
In short, the people our leaders are shouting and issuing threats about rights, blah blah have a place to call home after all and do not deserve government assistance or resettlement in any way. The supposed squatters know better. Even those big shots who have titles should tell us whom they bought the land from. Government? They were government then. Unless this government wants to kick off another round of freebies, this time round for the rich, nobody should be compensated for theft and plunder. Rich or poor. Leaders should worry about the next generation, not the next election.
The year 2009 was such a good year for riff-raffs, scum and the ‘downtrodden’. Manna is falling from heaven. The manual is simple; masquerade as a squatter in Mau or an IDP in the various never ending camps, attract media attention, look miserable on TV, your tribal Mps to make a lot of noise and voila! You are inside the gravy train. The catch is patience and the will to waste a lot of time. This is not hard for a people who have resigned themselves to fate and didn’t have much to do anyway.
Tribalism in Kenya has made commonsense impossible. Most genuine IDPs might have gone back to their farms when peace returned a long time ago. Not many Kenyans would waste time begging for the government ear and aid when you are used to reaping from your own sweat. Impostors made blackmail unions and appointed spokespeople to hoodwink the government to buy land and resettle them elsewhere. The big question is, when your houses were burnt, what happened to the land?
Since the IDPs were Kikuyu, and voters for that matter, Kikuyu leaders made a concerted and unified campaign for their resettlement. And behold! They were resettled. Not a single MP or leader dared questioned this initiative. Opposing a tribal standpoint is treasonable. In any case, the sight was an eyesore didn’t augur well for our international image! The Minister of Finance, whose docket was responsible for financing the resettlement, was Magnanimous enough to sell them his father’s Gicheha farm. What generosity from Uhuru Kenyatta!
When that was done, there came the Mau issue. A noble initiative to reclaim a vital water tower but which meant that the people who had illegally encroached forest land over the years would have to be evicted. The Mau circus was then made to grip the nation. The debate of course degenerated into a tribal contest. The Kalenjin leaders protested that their people are being targeted for persecution by the Prime Minister, Hon Raila Odinga.
When the vacating notice lapsed, the encroachers trooped out, on their volition. Obviously peasant farmers, poverty was evident from their faces, clothes, and the few belongings they clutched on their wiry hands. Even the structures they had called home depicted a life of misery and penury. I would have said the best thing to have happened to these people was to be evicted from that God forsaken land but the vote hungry tribal chiefs see it differently. Climate or no climate, these are our people who have every right to live in the forest. What belies their newfound crusade for the rights of the poor is the hearts and minds they will win for championing the community cause. Viva Ruto!
I happen to come from the original homeland of these ‘forest squatters’. In the early 90s, there was talk of free fertile land in Tinet. (According to us, the land that is now referred to as Mau is generally referred to as Tinet). What started the exploit was that prior to the first multi-party elections of 1992, the Moi government offered to settle all the squatters in the Rift Valley in a place Mauche, land that was hived off from the Mau complex for the purpose. That was done. This kicked off the exodus to Mau.
Historically, there have been several bids by people from the Kipsikiis community to alienate part of the forest for settlement. A bid that was always thwarted by the government. It is part of the folklore that our forefathers had warned the community not to inhabit Tinet (now referred to as Mau) for reasons that has never been explained. The belief is widely held. There is even a folk song to that effect. Even the Mau evictees know it too well. What begs to be explained is why this people insisted on Mau in the first place.
Apart from political reasons, I can give account to some reasons. Since my neighbors are part of the squad, I can pinpoint as to why each and every one of them migrated to Mau.
First, the majority of the Mau forest settlers were basically expansionists. They had and still have arable land in my home area but they wanted more land. Off they went to Mau. When some of them didn’t secure titles, they came back. Some stayed put to date. They are now in the camps. But they have land at their home of origin.
The second lot was simply happy-go-lucky freebooters. They sold off their lands and squandered the money, when it was over; reality dawned and wanted a place to live in. And off they set off to Mau for free land.
Related to the above category are people who sold of heir small pieces of land to buy a bigger one in the forest even though they knew very well that the land had no title deeds. Some wanted to enjoy part of the money.
The last is a very interesting group. Outcasts, thieves, divorcees, and rapists make up this bunch. The moment the police is looking for you to answer for cattle rustling or any crime, there was a no man’s land free from the law and where you could also chance some land. Women who could not put up with their husbands found a safe haven in Mau. These are the people our leaders are fighting the government for compensation.
In the 90s and early 2000s, there were fraudsters and brokers marauding in Bomet and Trans Mara Districts and I believe other Kalenjin districts collecting money and ID cards to secure people land in Mau. I remember my mum dismissing them that no land can be bought for two hundred bob. Many people fell prey and followed them to Mau. Many were to miss voting in 97 and 2002 because their IDs were in Mau. These are the people crying to be resettled.
In short, the people our leaders are shouting and issuing threats about rights, blah blah have a place to call home after all and do not deserve government assistance or resettlement in any way. The supposed squatters know better. Even those big shots who have titles should tell us whom they bought the land from. Government? They were government then. Unless this government wants to kick off another round of freebies, this time round for the rich, nobody should be compensated for theft and plunder. Rich or poor. Leaders should worry about the next generation, not the next election.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Another work of me, who feels like producing a Reality TV Show, it is worthwhile, just have a look:
GENRE: Reality TV
TITLE OF SHOW: The Crusader
LOGLINE:
These are people who believe in a cause. They are ready to give all their worth for the success of this cause but all they got is their passion, charm and charisma. What they see and hear on TV, Internet, Radio and Newspapers disturbs their conscience and push them into action. AIDS pandemic, Cancer plight, Climate Change, Pro-life, End Poverty, and a host other Crusaders campaign for awareness for their chosen cause. They utilize all at their disposal to get the message across and advance their cause. Whatever it takes to get the message to the world: poems, internet campaign, facebook, street campaign, singing, skits, they will do for their chosen cause. The audience will ask them questions which they must answer convincingly. Whoever gets the most endorsement through votes from the audience is the victor.
SYPNOSIS
People are picked to advance a chosen cause which they believe in. they must convince the audience that a particular action must be taken to end the suffering of the people involved. Some group will be campaigning for democracy in Burma, some for debt cancellation in Africa, some for Darfur, and some for Climate Change awareness and many other causes. Various groups will be chosen to advance the various causes. They will design posters, sing on TV, start Facebook Groups, sign followers on Twitter and etc. the more people they sign in or followers they get, the more their chances of winning the crusade. Judges like Bono of U2 and other world renowned crusaders will preside over the elimination of stragglers. The winner will take home a huge money prize and title of the Crusader.
GENRE: Reality TV
TITLE OF SHOW: The Crusader
LOGLINE:
These are people who believe in a cause. They are ready to give all their worth for the success of this cause but all they got is their passion, charm and charisma. What they see and hear on TV, Internet, Radio and Newspapers disturbs their conscience and push them into action. AIDS pandemic, Cancer plight, Climate Change, Pro-life, End Poverty, and a host other Crusaders campaign for awareness for their chosen cause. They utilize all at their disposal to get the message across and advance their cause. Whatever it takes to get the message to the world: poems, internet campaign, facebook, street campaign, singing, skits, they will do for their chosen cause. The audience will ask them questions which they must answer convincingly. Whoever gets the most endorsement through votes from the audience is the victor.
SYPNOSIS
People are picked to advance a chosen cause which they believe in. they must convince the audience that a particular action must be taken to end the suffering of the people involved. Some group will be campaigning for democracy in Burma, some for debt cancellation in Africa, some for Darfur, and some for Climate Change awareness and many other causes. Various groups will be chosen to advance the various causes. They will design posters, sing on TV, start Facebook Groups, sign followers on Twitter and etc. the more people they sign in or followers they get, the more their chances of winning the crusade. Judges like Bono of U2 and other world renowned crusaders will preside over the elimination of stragglers. The winner will take home a huge money prize and title of the Crusader.
REALITY TV CONCEPT!
Well, guys am a writer but not a TV Producer, who wannaTITLE OF SHOW: Hustler Nation
TITLE OF SHOW: Hustler Nation
Logline:
The Apprentice meets Survivor: faced with joblessness arising from the Economic Recession, many people find themselves in an unfriendly and uncharted territory; food has to be put on the table, bills have to be paid, and their social status has to be maintained at all costs. The world is fast crumbling on them. Jobs are not forthcoming but the son of man must live. Before they know, they have become part of the Hustler Inc, a world where you either swim or sink; it is a world of daily struggle for daily survival but with the future in mind. The competition is cut-throat; it is a jungle that can only be conquered by wit, charm, skills and sheer courage. Some will make, others will break. The denizens of Hustler Nation push very hard to earn a living, day by day, week by week, trying every odd job that come their way. Not all will be successful. There is tension and desperation in lose; joy and elation in success. Some will apply the knowledge they gained in college to get along, some will chance anything. Some will live each day as it comes, others will be subtle. The unfortunate will scrounge around, some will beg discreetly because there is an image to protect. Whatever strategy, the verdict lies with the audience.
SYNOPSIS
Unemployed men and women are selected from various levels of hustling and taken to a new city whence they have to put their hustling skills into use for survival. They have but their clothes only. No money, food, shelter or mercy. The going is tough but the game is worth playing. The tunnel is very dark; the prize money shines at the end of it. It is a one man struggle for survival and victory. A teacher will talk his way to get a one day job to teach so he/she can earn a living for that day; the following day will be a different attempt. Same for the beautician, IT specialist, DJ etc. they can baby-sit, maw the lawns, chauffeur someone, do housekeeping etc. white or blue collar, the bottom line is money. The more skills you have, the better. Whatever money you make is used to buy food, a hotel room and other basics. This is not all; whatever you save will be multiplied by the number of votes you get at the end of the week. The lesser the money you make, the more chances that you are going home. The only respite is; you will go home will all the money you accumulated in the show.
Rules of the game:
One must have been unemployed for some time or has been laid off
It is a strange city
There is no money provided by the hosts
One must hustle to get money
The amount of money you save at the end of the week after expenditure is multiplied by the number of votes you get from the audience
You can take a loan from a fellow contestant but to be repaid with interest that you negotiate with him
Whenever you make no money, the game hosts will give you a lifeline but will cost you all the money you had earlier accumulated
Whoever accumulates the least money is evicted
Whoever successfully tries the most jobs get immunity from eviction for that week
The amount of money you make times the total votes you get from the audience equals the amount of money you take home when you are evicted or when you emerge victor less loans taken.
You can employ your charm to scrounge for money, food or accommodation to avoid the lifeline that will cost you your accumulated money
Sundays are eviction days as well as a rest day for the Hustlers
Successful business people who started out as hustlers are brought in to give the hustlers vital lessons on how to start out on Saturdays
The victor will be given the title of President of Hustler Nation and take home the prize money as well as what he earned in the show.
produce these Reality TV shows? they are hot i tell you! have a peek:
Well, guys am a writer but not a TV Producer, who wannaTITLE OF SHOW: Hustler Nation
TITLE OF SHOW: Hustler Nation
Logline:
The Apprentice meets Survivor: faced with joblessness arising from the Economic Recession, many people find themselves in an unfriendly and uncharted territory; food has to be put on the table, bills have to be paid, and their social status has to be maintained at all costs. The world is fast crumbling on them. Jobs are not forthcoming but the son of man must live. Before they know, they have become part of the Hustler Inc, a world where you either swim or sink; it is a world of daily struggle for daily survival but with the future in mind. The competition is cut-throat; it is a jungle that can only be conquered by wit, charm, skills and sheer courage. Some will make, others will break. The denizens of Hustler Nation push very hard to earn a living, day by day, week by week, trying every odd job that come their way. Not all will be successful. There is tension and desperation in lose; joy and elation in success. Some will apply the knowledge they gained in college to get along, some will chance anything. Some will live each day as it comes, others will be subtle. The unfortunate will scrounge around, some will beg discreetly because there is an image to protect. Whatever strategy, the verdict lies with the audience.
SYNOPSIS
Unemployed men and women are selected from various levels of hustling and taken to a new city whence they have to put their hustling skills into use for survival. They have but their clothes only. No money, food, shelter or mercy. The going is tough but the game is worth playing. The tunnel is very dark; the prize money shines at the end of it. It is a one man struggle for survival and victory. A teacher will talk his way to get a one day job to teach so he/she can earn a living for that day; the following day will be a different attempt. Same for the beautician, IT specialist, DJ etc. they can baby-sit, maw the lawns, chauffeur someone, do housekeeping etc. white or blue collar, the bottom line is money. The more skills you have, the better. Whatever money you make is used to buy food, a hotel room and other basics. This is not all; whatever you save will be multiplied by the number of votes you get at the end of the week. The lesser the money you make, the more chances that you are going home. The only respite is; you will go home will all the money you accumulated in the show.
Rules of the game:
One must have been unemployed for some time or has been laid off
It is a strange city
There is no money provided by the hosts
One must hustle to get money
The amount of money you save at the end of the week after expenditure is multiplied by the number of votes you get from the audience
You can take a loan from a fellow contestant but to be repaid with interest that you negotiate with him
Whenever you make no money, the game hosts will give you a lifeline but will cost you all the money you had earlier accumulated
Whoever accumulates the least money is evicted
Whoever successfully tries the most jobs get immunity from eviction for that week
The amount of money you make times the total votes you get from the audience equals the amount of money you take home when you are evicted or when you emerge victor less loans taken.
You can employ your charm to scrounge for money, food or accommodation to avoid the lifeline that will cost you your accumulated money
Sundays are eviction days as well as a rest day for the Hustlers
Successful business people who started out as hustlers are brought in to give the hustlers vital lessons on how to start out on Saturdays
The victor will be given the title of President of Hustler Nation and take home the prize money as well as what he earned in the show.
produce these Reality TV shows? they are hot i tell you! have a peek:
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Ocampo About to Strike? Ruto and Uhuru are Ocampo’s Obvious Prey
I am not psychic or clairvoyant in any way but all indications are that William Ruto and Uhuru Kenyatta will be guests of The Hague before 2012. Several strong hypotheses and events of the past few months support this prognosis.
First, the two are guilty by association owing to the sheer fact that they are the most prominent politicians from the leading protagonists in the 2008 Post Election Violence that brought the country closest to a civil war ever. This makes them the most plausible candidates. The Kalenjin and the Kikuyu communities have always had bones to pick with each other and are not the best of neighbors. It is important to note that both communities live in the Rift Valley which, and over the years, has been the epicenter of ethnic conflicts with political undertones. An outsider is forgiven if he concludes that tackling violence in Kenya boils down to addressing the Kikuyu-Kalenjin conflict. Even though this is not far from the truth, it is not exact. The bottom line has to do with the land question dating back to pre-independence days and the lack of cohesiveness between the communities due to discrepancy of culture and ways of life.
Ruto rushed to court the other day to have his name expunged from the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights report on Post Election Violence and Uhuru had done the same earlier. This point to two people who are keen on doing anything to salvage their erstwhile promising political careers that The Hague will surely deal a deathly blow. Could this be a blind coincidence? No! It seems they share some common gut feelings about the impending D-day with the man from Argentina and now they are in pre-emptive mode. It is instructive to note that Ruto is hobnobbing with the Kibaki side of the Grand Coalition which Uhuru is the top dog.
Since the Hague issue took the national fore, William Ruto has shilly-shallied with all options. Supporting the Hague today, Local tribunal the next and sometimes desperately unclear on any. At one time he made a mockery of the ICC by suggesting that it will take a hundred years for it to act and that is why he supports it. Uhuru, though less outspoken on the issue, has also added his two pence to the debate. Both have never been clear on their bet. Maybe because it is their life at stake. I don’t attribute this to lack of judgment or inconsistency of thinking but confusion. It is like extending a death row criminal the liberty to choose between lethal injection and the gas chambers. Whether he makes a careful choice or not, the end is just the same; death!
Though the same fate awaits the two gentlemen, that of a day with the ICC, I am not sure of Ruto’s case being sustainable. The ICC doesn’t boast a history of acquitting anybody so far, but he might make history as the first one to be acquitted. I am not sure of the evidence that the Waki Report and the ICC will adduce to link him to the planning, sponsoring, and instigating the violence in any way. I happened to have been close to his political machinery at the time and I can vouch for his innocence to some extend. My impression of him is of a very careful politician.
As I had earlier pointed out, the main thing that makes Ruto a suspect is that he was playing a leading role for ODM in the Kalenjin community and the assumption is that nothing would have happened without his knowledge. I am of the opinion that the Kalenjin, either through Ruto or otherwise did not plan the war in advance. I believe that the violence that followed was spontaneous and a knee jerk reaction of a people protesting a stolen election. The sheer numbers involved and the spread of the violence would have taken a machinery no less than the government to plan and execute. Even the path in my own tiny village with a homogeneous ethnicity was blocked! Besides, I was in a political position to know and would have been engaged in one way or the other. At least I can speak for South Rift with a lot of certainty because I was there at the time. Unless the North Rift, which I highly doubt, planned theirs, the war was not pre-meditated.
One likely scenario is that Ruto’s close lieutenants on the ground invoked his name to instigate, organize and sustain the violence. I am not a lawyer but I doubt whether anybody can be liable for prosecution for the actions of his political supporters.
Uhuru’s case is different from Ruto in a way. Uhuru was in the PNU side that stole the election. His people – the Kikuyu- were basically the target of ethnic violence because the president comes from their community and they had overwhelmingly voted for him. The Kikuyu were the first casualties in areas that were predominantly ODM. PNU used the police at their disposal to suppress the demonstrations in ODM zones as well as protect the Kikuyu. Many ODM supporters in Kibera, Kisumu and the Rift alley were killed by police bullets. The reaction of the Kikuyu was to retaliate against the killings of their people with the help of the rabid and outlawed gang called the Mungiki. There are credible allegations that the state issued them with guns. I thought the President and the Police Commissioner are culpable on this but Ocampo seems to have taken a different approach.
In Nakuru, Naivasha and Molo, the Mungiki slayed members of ethnic communities that were perceived to be sympathetic or had voted for ODM. It is alleged that Uhuru and others planned retaliation attacks in State House Nairobi. It is further alleged that they fundraised for the same. If this could be proved, and it is widely believed to be so, then Uhuru is in some real trouble. A fundamental fact to note is that it took time for the Kikuyu community to hit back. Could they have been planned, probably with the help of some leaders? It is for Ocampo to ferret out.
Though I believe the ICC is fair and impartial, apart from the fact that it hauls only members of the third world to its cells, Ocampo has inadvertently played into the hands of political schemers. His meeting with Raila and Kibaki made me a bit skeptical of his impartiality. His assertion that he will prosecute a few individuals fired my doubts: could he have been made to target a few leaders who are seen to be stumbling blocks in the 2012 succession game plan? I have not the slightest of doubt concerning Ocampo’s integrity but corrupted information can serve to slant anybody’s perception. The big question is; why not haul even ten characters to The Hague like it happened in Rwanda?
Allow me to play the devil’s advocate by suggesting that there is a scheme to fix Ruto and Uhuru by Kibaki and Raila. Kalonzo’s appetite to fix the two is so obvious. You just have to observe how gung-ho his protégé Kilonzo is on cooperating with the ICC and his offering to assist in arresting the suspects. Raila’s scheme also cannot make it to Political Science 101; Ruto is his greatest nemesis in the vote rich Rift Valley and sequestering him in The Hague is a one-off fix to this problem. Raila’s sojourn in the Central Province is hampered by one Uhuru Kenyatta who might run for the presidency. Confining him in The Hague obviously remove his name from the ballot. There is no other credible candidate to deny him the presidency because Kalonzo is a lightweight. Raila’s ally in the list is possibly Prof Anyang Nyong’o. This problem is already taken care of because they have persuaded Ocampo to single out two or three top guns. In any case, Nyong’o comes from Luo Nyanza where Raila is obvious to scoop all the votes. So, it is only one vote less in case Nyong’o finds himself in The Hague.
Kibaki’s interest in having the two guys in The Hague is the most intriguing and subtle. If Uhuru and Ruto are carted to The Hague, the environment for the 2012 elections will be so tense and poisoned that it will be impossible to conduct free and fair elections. There will be fear of a recurrence of violence. The UN will rule that his leadership be extended for the time being till the situation is calmed. Just look at Ivory Coast and you get the import of what I am talking about. Which African president is not a megalomaniac? Even a month in power is worth it.
As the ICC prepares to prosecute these guys, I beg to differ with Ocampo on one thing; trying to isolate PEV from its main root: rigged elections. The science of cause and effect, action and reaction would have been flouted. It is basic logic and commonsense that the PEV was sparked by the botched election of which the government and the Electoral Commission of Kenya (ECK) are liable. Subverting the cause of democracy by stealing elections hence causing anarchy is a punitive offence that ought to be punished. If Ocampo chooses to ignore this fact for political expediency, that of sparing Kibaki and Raila, in itself amounts to perpetuating impunity. Overlooking this backdrop is tantamount to political witch hunting.
There was a general call for mass action by the leadership of ODM to make the country ungovernable after the vote was rigged. The ODM side was determined to reclaim its stolen victory at all costs while the PNU side was hell bent on defending their supposed victory by all means possible. This led to anarchy and bloodshed because the tension that had gripped the nation necessarily meant that neither side could manage its foot soldiers. I am sure that Ocampo is well grounded on this and will factor it in his prosecution.
I wish Ocampo could learn some basics on the psyche and norms of the communities that were parties to the conflict.
Let me speak for the Kalenjins because I understand them and I am one of its sons. It might shed light as to why Ruto is innocent.
The Kalenjin community is a peaceful people in peace time and cannot fight a war of blame. They voted for ODM almost to a man, and when the elections were bungled they believed that it was justified to reclaim it by all means possible. It was like an intifada of sorts. To the Kalenjins, a war means blood and spoils.
There is a lot of generalization and ethnicization of issues in this community. We versus them. Even when a single cow is stolen, it is taken as a community issue and whichever the tribe that stole it, they are made to pay for it. Since time immemorial, other tribes are labeled as enemies even in peace time. And when these ‘enemies’ wrong them, then they should pay for it or the community will come to disrepute. The community name and honor is guarded jealously and violently if need be. Bravery is held in high esteem, cowardice is frowned upon. If tribe A kills one of our own, even in Europe, it is just fine to repay with any of their kinsmen in Kenya.
One factor that led to the false notion the violence was pre-planned was how the Kalenjins were able to organize themselves so fast and mount such a coordinated attack. Historically, the Kalenjins are a warrior community. Wars are highly organized and systematic. The ‘manuals’ are handed down from generation to generation. War tactics are taught in initiation to adulthood. It was not hard to put this into practice in the PEV.
Ocampo should also examine the role of poverty in the Kenyan conflicts. In the height of the post election mayhem, youth mounted illegal roadblocks even in village paths to collect money from their own people. Movement was restricted. I was surprised to be harassed by young men who knew me yet I was not an ‘enemy’.
I witnessed the Borabu – Kissii conflict start. Jobless youth and primary school boys started it for fun. There was war in the air and they didn’t want to miss the fun. Loafers imagined some bounty from the war. Unfortunately the fun escalated to a full fledged conflict and assumed a life of its own. This was not part of the PEV because the Kisii had voted for ODM.
Simplifying the PEV to just some leaders organizing and instigating violence because they reckoned elections will be stolen is to miss the point. Inter-ethnic animosities in Kenya is hydra-headed. Even the dynamics that fed the PEV is complicated. It is interesting to note that members of the Provincial Administration were targeted and had their property destroyed simply because they were perceived to have voted for PNU in Rift valley.
If the PEV was not related to the elections, why did the people burn government property? Ocampo should investigate the PEV in light of the bungled elections.
Let me wish Ocampo good luck and Godspeed in fixing impunity in this country!
First, the two are guilty by association owing to the sheer fact that they are the most prominent politicians from the leading protagonists in the 2008 Post Election Violence that brought the country closest to a civil war ever. This makes them the most plausible candidates. The Kalenjin and the Kikuyu communities have always had bones to pick with each other and are not the best of neighbors. It is important to note that both communities live in the Rift Valley which, and over the years, has been the epicenter of ethnic conflicts with political undertones. An outsider is forgiven if he concludes that tackling violence in Kenya boils down to addressing the Kikuyu-Kalenjin conflict. Even though this is not far from the truth, it is not exact. The bottom line has to do with the land question dating back to pre-independence days and the lack of cohesiveness between the communities due to discrepancy of culture and ways of life.
Ruto rushed to court the other day to have his name expunged from the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights report on Post Election Violence and Uhuru had done the same earlier. This point to two people who are keen on doing anything to salvage their erstwhile promising political careers that The Hague will surely deal a deathly blow. Could this be a blind coincidence? No! It seems they share some common gut feelings about the impending D-day with the man from Argentina and now they are in pre-emptive mode. It is instructive to note that Ruto is hobnobbing with the Kibaki side of the Grand Coalition which Uhuru is the top dog.
Since the Hague issue took the national fore, William Ruto has shilly-shallied with all options. Supporting the Hague today, Local tribunal the next and sometimes desperately unclear on any. At one time he made a mockery of the ICC by suggesting that it will take a hundred years for it to act and that is why he supports it. Uhuru, though less outspoken on the issue, has also added his two pence to the debate. Both have never been clear on their bet. Maybe because it is their life at stake. I don’t attribute this to lack of judgment or inconsistency of thinking but confusion. It is like extending a death row criminal the liberty to choose between lethal injection and the gas chambers. Whether he makes a careful choice or not, the end is just the same; death!
Though the same fate awaits the two gentlemen, that of a day with the ICC, I am not sure of Ruto’s case being sustainable. The ICC doesn’t boast a history of acquitting anybody so far, but he might make history as the first one to be acquitted. I am not sure of the evidence that the Waki Report and the ICC will adduce to link him to the planning, sponsoring, and instigating the violence in any way. I happened to have been close to his political machinery at the time and I can vouch for his innocence to some extend. My impression of him is of a very careful politician.
As I had earlier pointed out, the main thing that makes Ruto a suspect is that he was playing a leading role for ODM in the Kalenjin community and the assumption is that nothing would have happened without his knowledge. I am of the opinion that the Kalenjin, either through Ruto or otherwise did not plan the war in advance. I believe that the violence that followed was spontaneous and a knee jerk reaction of a people protesting a stolen election. The sheer numbers involved and the spread of the violence would have taken a machinery no less than the government to plan and execute. Even the path in my own tiny village with a homogeneous ethnicity was blocked! Besides, I was in a political position to know and would have been engaged in one way or the other. At least I can speak for South Rift with a lot of certainty because I was there at the time. Unless the North Rift, which I highly doubt, planned theirs, the war was not pre-meditated.
One likely scenario is that Ruto’s close lieutenants on the ground invoked his name to instigate, organize and sustain the violence. I am not a lawyer but I doubt whether anybody can be liable for prosecution for the actions of his political supporters.
Uhuru’s case is different from Ruto in a way. Uhuru was in the PNU side that stole the election. His people – the Kikuyu- were basically the target of ethnic violence because the president comes from their community and they had overwhelmingly voted for him. The Kikuyu were the first casualties in areas that were predominantly ODM. PNU used the police at their disposal to suppress the demonstrations in ODM zones as well as protect the Kikuyu. Many ODM supporters in Kibera, Kisumu and the Rift alley were killed by police bullets. The reaction of the Kikuyu was to retaliate against the killings of their people with the help of the rabid and outlawed gang called the Mungiki. There are credible allegations that the state issued them with guns. I thought the President and the Police Commissioner are culpable on this but Ocampo seems to have taken a different approach.
In Nakuru, Naivasha and Molo, the Mungiki slayed members of ethnic communities that were perceived to be sympathetic or had voted for ODM. It is alleged that Uhuru and others planned retaliation attacks in State House Nairobi. It is further alleged that they fundraised for the same. If this could be proved, and it is widely believed to be so, then Uhuru is in some real trouble. A fundamental fact to note is that it took time for the Kikuyu community to hit back. Could they have been planned, probably with the help of some leaders? It is for Ocampo to ferret out.
Though I believe the ICC is fair and impartial, apart from the fact that it hauls only members of the third world to its cells, Ocampo has inadvertently played into the hands of political schemers. His meeting with Raila and Kibaki made me a bit skeptical of his impartiality. His assertion that he will prosecute a few individuals fired my doubts: could he have been made to target a few leaders who are seen to be stumbling blocks in the 2012 succession game plan? I have not the slightest of doubt concerning Ocampo’s integrity but corrupted information can serve to slant anybody’s perception. The big question is; why not haul even ten characters to The Hague like it happened in Rwanda?
Allow me to play the devil’s advocate by suggesting that there is a scheme to fix Ruto and Uhuru by Kibaki and Raila. Kalonzo’s appetite to fix the two is so obvious. You just have to observe how gung-ho his protégé Kilonzo is on cooperating with the ICC and his offering to assist in arresting the suspects. Raila’s scheme also cannot make it to Political Science 101; Ruto is his greatest nemesis in the vote rich Rift Valley and sequestering him in The Hague is a one-off fix to this problem. Raila’s sojourn in the Central Province is hampered by one Uhuru Kenyatta who might run for the presidency. Confining him in The Hague obviously remove his name from the ballot. There is no other credible candidate to deny him the presidency because Kalonzo is a lightweight. Raila’s ally in the list is possibly Prof Anyang Nyong’o. This problem is already taken care of because they have persuaded Ocampo to single out two or three top guns. In any case, Nyong’o comes from Luo Nyanza where Raila is obvious to scoop all the votes. So, it is only one vote less in case Nyong’o finds himself in The Hague.
Kibaki’s interest in having the two guys in The Hague is the most intriguing and subtle. If Uhuru and Ruto are carted to The Hague, the environment for the 2012 elections will be so tense and poisoned that it will be impossible to conduct free and fair elections. There will be fear of a recurrence of violence. The UN will rule that his leadership be extended for the time being till the situation is calmed. Just look at Ivory Coast and you get the import of what I am talking about. Which African president is not a megalomaniac? Even a month in power is worth it.
As the ICC prepares to prosecute these guys, I beg to differ with Ocampo on one thing; trying to isolate PEV from its main root: rigged elections. The science of cause and effect, action and reaction would have been flouted. It is basic logic and commonsense that the PEV was sparked by the botched election of which the government and the Electoral Commission of Kenya (ECK) are liable. Subverting the cause of democracy by stealing elections hence causing anarchy is a punitive offence that ought to be punished. If Ocampo chooses to ignore this fact for political expediency, that of sparing Kibaki and Raila, in itself amounts to perpetuating impunity. Overlooking this backdrop is tantamount to political witch hunting.
There was a general call for mass action by the leadership of ODM to make the country ungovernable after the vote was rigged. The ODM side was determined to reclaim its stolen victory at all costs while the PNU side was hell bent on defending their supposed victory by all means possible. This led to anarchy and bloodshed because the tension that had gripped the nation necessarily meant that neither side could manage its foot soldiers. I am sure that Ocampo is well grounded on this and will factor it in his prosecution.
I wish Ocampo could learn some basics on the psyche and norms of the communities that were parties to the conflict.
Let me speak for the Kalenjins because I understand them and I am one of its sons. It might shed light as to why Ruto is innocent.
The Kalenjin community is a peaceful people in peace time and cannot fight a war of blame. They voted for ODM almost to a man, and when the elections were bungled they believed that it was justified to reclaim it by all means possible. It was like an intifada of sorts. To the Kalenjins, a war means blood and spoils.
There is a lot of generalization and ethnicization of issues in this community. We versus them. Even when a single cow is stolen, it is taken as a community issue and whichever the tribe that stole it, they are made to pay for it. Since time immemorial, other tribes are labeled as enemies even in peace time. And when these ‘enemies’ wrong them, then they should pay for it or the community will come to disrepute. The community name and honor is guarded jealously and violently if need be. Bravery is held in high esteem, cowardice is frowned upon. If tribe A kills one of our own, even in Europe, it is just fine to repay with any of their kinsmen in Kenya.
One factor that led to the false notion the violence was pre-planned was how the Kalenjins were able to organize themselves so fast and mount such a coordinated attack. Historically, the Kalenjins are a warrior community. Wars are highly organized and systematic. The ‘manuals’ are handed down from generation to generation. War tactics are taught in initiation to adulthood. It was not hard to put this into practice in the PEV.
Ocampo should also examine the role of poverty in the Kenyan conflicts. In the height of the post election mayhem, youth mounted illegal roadblocks even in village paths to collect money from their own people. Movement was restricted. I was surprised to be harassed by young men who knew me yet I was not an ‘enemy’.
I witnessed the Borabu – Kissii conflict start. Jobless youth and primary school boys started it for fun. There was war in the air and they didn’t want to miss the fun. Loafers imagined some bounty from the war. Unfortunately the fun escalated to a full fledged conflict and assumed a life of its own. This was not part of the PEV because the Kisii had voted for ODM.
Simplifying the PEV to just some leaders organizing and instigating violence because they reckoned elections will be stolen is to miss the point. Inter-ethnic animosities in Kenya is hydra-headed. Even the dynamics that fed the PEV is complicated. It is interesting to note that members of the Provincial Administration were targeted and had their property destroyed simply because they were perceived to have voted for PNU in Rift valley.
If the PEV was not related to the elections, why did the people burn government property? Ocampo should investigate the PEV in light of the bungled elections.
Let me wish Ocampo good luck and Godspeed in fixing impunity in this country!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
sex anonymous!
SEX ANONYMOUS
Goddam shit! That red g-string really haunts me men. Such messy stuff a combination of alcohol n pussie produces. I wish I would have stuck with my Tusker rather than drink spirits in a strange town. Have lost count of the number of times I have promised my stupid self never to touch this substance. Ouch! This pain sucks! I must have rolled downstairs or those dogs must have dragged me. But I believe I gave someone a good punch. Otherwise my fist should not be smarting like this. I hate bouncers. I am lucky though, fighting with unschooled bumpkins can be disastrous. It wasn’t funny men. That thing was real bad. Holy shit, I did a good job of cheating those thick cops. Otherwise it would be a different story now: assault causing real bodily harm, drunk and disorderly, destruction of property, disturbance of the peace….and what else those sick coppers could conjure up with their limited legal parlance. I hate cops with all my living soul. I should own a gun soon, legal or illegal, preferably an automatic. Don’t believe in killing people but cops are not human beings. They are a different species that biologist are yet to name. And that bitch wasn’t even worth a fight. Don’t even remember what the hag looked like but can recall grapping her tits. Funny! Every bitch has got its owner. Even those whom the devil created in his own very image. Alcohol is fuckin bad. Real hard fuckin bad!
Forget this pain anyway. It is such a small issue now. Have to concentrate with this shrink or counselor or doc or whatever they would like to be called. And this waiting room is so big; it would have made such a nice pub. God, I need a beer to work up my nerves. Alcoholism is in the genes. I read somewhere in some journal.
There is a sweet chick seated next to me. I wonder what has brought her. She is in such a dismal mood I can’t dare disturb her. My reveries are better. She seems to be lost in such a ghoulish trance. Or else what would contort a chick s face in such an angle?
If you would like to know that people can get serious, visit a VCT centre. Even the slim guy seated next to me is so deeply worried he should just die. The lady is ushered in. Noticed she had such a sweet derriere. Reminded me of ma ex. Ma best when it come to asses that is. Otherwise there is a harem of others with various but specific attractions too. Boobs (am a sucker for boobs, God! love them big) eyes, lips, legs, thighs, hair and other features God factored in a woman to disturb men. That gal had a bum to die for. I wonder what my mum would have said, had she met her. Maybe she would have been jealous or something. You never know with women, your mum included! The wiry guy is lead into the next room.
Am wishing that I be let into a room with a pretty-pretty gal, young at that. Don’t like discussing ma life with men, especially the sexual department. They can’t help anyway. Am not queer. You see, women could benefit by learning something men. Be they sex counselors or not. You can easily win their compassion. Even lay them. Life is like that. You never know the source of your next pussie unless you are thick.
The cheap clock on the wall struck three. This government guys are thieves. Am sure someone filed some wild returns that they bought this clock for a thousand shillings or even more. In a country where everybody is a fraud, rationality is a rare commodity. You find it in slums, not government offices. The lady with a knobby face walks out; her face looked just the same as I last saw her. These counselors don’t do nothing. How come that gal didn’t get better or worse? I doubt their education level, bet they are River Road grads and the minister of health must be from their village or most likely she pussied her way here. Pussie buys anything. Especially jobs. Forget what you see in porn. Those are second rate. There is real porn in high offices that never get to your attention. Especially if you are poor. Poverty is a serious disease. It precludes you of not only luxury but even information. Good gossip doesn’t come cheap. I tell you. After seeing that bitch’s face, I decided without anymore debate that I won’t take the test. No need to stress maself when I can avoid it. The bliss of ignorance.
Some hideous gal gave me a gummy smile and let me into some room. That smile wasn’t worth reciprocating, besides, am a firm believer in putting people where they belong. I aint such a nice guy. That am sure.
A lady with a red mini-skirt is seated facing some table to the wall. On the table are some boxes with some apparatus and papers. Reminded me of my high school lab. Several years ago. Was dating ma first gal. Claudia. Shy bitch in class eight, across the fence. But she was not a virgin. Neither was I. Claudia gave me ma first ride to the clouds nonetheless. Em days of sweet innocence. HIV was a rumor.
The chick swung from her chair to face me. Mary Mother of Jesus! That gal had thighs that could kill God the Almighty! This is the masterpiece thighs. Others are counterfeits. My tongue itched for a licking encounter. I could feel my dick rise at once in ma jeans. At that instance I confirmed I was not going to get tested. Who? Mee? Never! I want to lay this bitch. I wonna hear her scream. She rose and pointed a seat for me. I stood still for some seconds then regained my composure. I shoved ma ass to some settee in the corner and she came with some papers and sat next to me. Facing me. Looking at me. Exploring me with her lazy eyes. Oh my holy shit! Did she have boobs? Her nipples were begging for attention, the left one was bigger. I could die!
‘Hi and welcome to the community VCT centre, my name is Angela’ she told me in a sexy voice
‘Thenkx ma, ma name is Deeplow. Ts cool mirring yo’ I responded in a humble voice that was so hard to muster.
“Hey! you got such a strange name even though it is a policy to maintain the identity of our clients as anonymous as much as possible. Good to know your name though am sure I might forget it the next minute. Ok, How can I help you?’ she said with a trained smile they welcomed you with in a Five Star hotel. Very reassuring. Maybe she thought I was still interested in getting tested for this damn thing called HIV. Wished she could know that she had changed ma mission from stoking trouble to a simple lay.
‘Me is gat lotsa prolems ma. Dunno whera you cuu hulp me’ I said with subdued confidence to reflect that ma problems were dire.
“I am here to help you as much as I could. That is why we are here. The first step is you to express yourself as much as possible so that I can figure out what to do.’’
‘Thenkx ma. Well, I thought I nirred professional help to put ma sex life together. It is in shit ma. Real big shit. Am nut amused abourrit one lirl bit. AIDS aint a jook. Its lyk I have had too many chicks than is gud or normo. Think am addicted to flings or something lyk tha. Think I gorra fixit. Have tried before but flunked severally. Could you help me with thet. Its fuckin kreizy. Even now am tryin nut to have a hit on yer. Yer see, I cant resist gals. Twasnt always lyk thet. Think I hengd around the wrong guys.’ I said with a serious tone.
‘Aha haa haa, don’t say you already getting ideas with me, you can’t be serious!’ she laughed as she faced up, pushing her tits up in the process. Yellow full killing tits. Ma dick tightened harder. It hurt.
Talking sex is infectious. Now I know. Even people who are supposed to fight it can’t resist it. I thought.
‘I mean dear. Am serious. Wonna see ma fly? It’s bulging up”
‘No nooo. Not with me. Not now, not here. Remember you wanted help to fix that,’ she tried faking seriousness but could not make it. Immediately I felt triumphant. Those words betrayed someone who would not mind a lay. I had managed to change the atmosphere to be amorous.
‘Ahkey , ahkey, pls take ther as a jook. Dirrnt mean to. Sooo, what do you advise me then, I fuckin need some hulp’ I feigned shame and composure.
‘You speak nice English, where did you learn all that? That aside, are you sure you don’t need a test? Would really advise you to undergo that first. I will first have to counsel. Some people .Most. Are scared about it but it is not life and death. In case of anything you can still live a normal life.’ She deadpanned.
‘I surely don’t need no mutherfuckin tests. Am sure I aint gat nuh Aids but in case I garrit, it is the work of the post mortem guys, when am dead. Doiven try convicin me. Dowonna take that shit. Am shore. Just gimme the fuckin counseling n maby drugs to screw ma liking for chicks. This o I need for nao. If it daent waak out. I wi cam beck soon n letchu know.’ I said with finality
‘Ok, no problem. If you are not ready, then I am not going to force you into it. Well, counseling to quit sex might take some time. Hope you will be disciplined enough to adhere to the rules. We don’t have a sex rehab where we could confine you. It is a relatively new field. Its success will mainly depend with your full cooperation. There is no sex anonymous community to support you either. You really have to put a lot of effort. It is not totally insurmountable if you are committed.’
‘ Now that you are not for testing, let me get you some form to fill’ she rose steadily but not too careful so that I saw her pink panty( wish all ladies could be in pink panties, it really kills me) she swaggered , her high heels making sure her curvy ass swing in voluptuous rhythms. She retrieved some papers and came back smiling. Didn’t know that these people are relieved when nobody is getting tested. It is such a relief for all parties concerned. Or maybe she was sure that she has hooked up a hunk for the evening. Could not figure out what was going in her stupid skull.
Angelicious pulled a chair next to a table not far and beckoned me to it. She gave me a pen and stood beside me as I read the form, her boobs touched me as she bent to show me. Hard, firm, warm, hot, I just pushed back to relish in the hardness and expectedly, she didn’t resist. I savored the encounter for sometime and for once I was tempted to stand, take down ma pants and put ma cock in her boobs. I beat the temptation and decided to be serious for once in my life.
‘Could you find yerself a seat? Yer will get tired standin hii all tha time. Think I have known how to fill this thing, maby yer cuu come we summarize’ I told her in a serious tone
‘No, you might need some little help and I will get tired more by coming here and going there. Just fill it fast in case there is someone waiting’ there was some anger in her voice.
Lesson one: this broad does not take rejection kindly. I was surprised and decided to take my mind out of her breath and tits. Men! It wasn’t easy. But I had to try. At that instance, she beeped out of the door, liked what she saw, locked the door and told me I was the last client for that day so I could take my time. She resumed her position behind me and pushed her boobs harder on me.
I thought maybe to cure sex overdose in your life you needed more. She knew better. She was a professional. I was not. I skipped instructions, disclaimers blah blah and went ahead to fill the form. I decided that I will put a P.S reading: I filled it under the influence of boobs! Had a mind to do it.
I filled the motherfucking form thus;
Name:
Deeplow Hard (my mum had given me other names but they weren’t sexy, had to change men, besides, I am a global citizen and don’t want those shameless tribalists to discriminate against me)
Address:
P.O. Box 1600000000065 GPO Nairobi (I love zeros; they differentiate good bucks from chicken feed)
Profession:
Business by training, hustler by default, writer by career, (you guys should check my blogs, they are hot men) I moonlight as a gynae (this is one hobby/habit I would like to kick out with your help, have too many occupations already) drunkard, talker etc
Personality:
warm, humorous, witty, crackpot, cocky, brashy when having money, outgoing, don’t take no shit, happy-go-lucky, charming, charismatic, easy going, go-getter ( in short I am all that J.F Kennedy was. Everything. Add a little but take nothing) I am a playboy!
Interests:
Too many. Politics, women (ending from today), reading, writing, world affairs, business trends, entrepreneurship, money and music ( rock, rap, techno, pop and soul)
Present addictions:
Cunt (new), alcohol, facebook chats, city life, BBC, and VOA (love the voice of Kim Louis and Caroline Castielle,) CNN ( I blame it on Monita Rajpal) CNBC ( blame it on my fetish for Erin Burnett) I am international babie! Can’t stand the local bullshit. Am informed like shit, in fact I am a polymath.
Income level:
Comfortable to almost affluent – I knew I was lying, in fact am a broke ass.
Marital status:
I consider myself single but people are free to think about anything. Don’t real much care what every nitwit in the street think. The women I sired children with would tell you am married but ma gals will tell you am single. Very. It depends on which side of the sexual divide you are. Either way, am least concerned. They can take a plunge into the sea.
Religion:
Wish I could believe in God. Not that easy. No.
Orientation:
Can only be straight. I don’t really much care what people do with their asses, dicks n pussies. It is theirs in any case. I am not a prefect for the society. Unless somebody wants to be paying me for the job.
Family background:
Brought up in a not so close-knit family, a hard working and loving mother but with an absent and drunkard womanizing father. Religion was not discussed, and has never been discussed. I basically don’t know whether they are Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Atheists, Jews, Agnostics or Animists. My guess lies with the last two.
Years of addiction:
The dividing line between normal and addictive sex is indeed very difficult to draw. Even though am the subject, I find it really hard to tell. This is one of the issues I am seeking professional help.
I signed to be cooperative as much as possible and to avail ma ass when called upon.
All the while, Angela was continuing her sexual offensive on me. She didn’t notice what I wrote because she would have sought some clarifications on some of the wild information I was providing.
It was now my turn to return the advances. It was around six thirty in the evening by the time I was done.
It was drizzling outside. In the tropics, rain inspires a feeling of snuggling close to something. The tap tap tap sound on the roof made me wild. I pretended to sit back and hold one of the legs of the chair but extended my fingers to her legs. It was a double assault because my shoulders were now pressing on her boobs harder. I caressed her legs furtively as if by accident. She didn’t move. My experience with women has taught me that whenever there is no opposition in one level then you are free to move to the next level. I groped with my hands up her thighs. The warmer it got. Her pulse through her right tit got faster. Her breath became intense. I moved my fingers up and up her skirt till I touched the lining of her panty. She parted her legs in response as if to invite me to finger her. I did exactly that. There was a low moan. Her pussie was already juicy and warm. I rose and hold her close to me and kissed her lips. She was an expert kisser. She worked me crazy with her tongue. We fell on the settee near by. I undid her top with a rare impatience.
I seized her nipples, one hand each. Squeezed them and then decided to greet them with a kiss, then a suck and finally nibble them. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was opening and shutting in slow motion as if she was biting the pleasure bit by bit.
‘Deeplow! Boy! Please, please…do me some justice if you are a real man. Please boy, dip your dick into me .I beg you…ayah aaaaah oooaaaah, please! ’
I lifted her sweet skirt n removed her pink panty. The sound it made drove me nuts. I love the sound of panty as it is removed. It signifies victory on my side and complete surrender on her side. I love the sound that panties make as they are removed. It fires my passion, rejuvenates my libido and invigorates my energies before the action.
‘Deeplow! Please, do it nnnooow sssssss aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaa!’
I licked her yellow thighs slowly and slowly, up I marched, grandly to the Promised Land. I got to her well shaven pussie and something snapped in me, I was possessed, I sucked her clit into my mouth and she screamed. The whiff that hit ma nose as I did this made me almost scream…God!
I ripped open ma fly and lowered both my panty and jeans down and pulled out my long suffering dick.
Goddam shit! That red g-string really haunts me men. Such messy stuff a combination of alcohol n pussie produces. I wish I would have stuck with my Tusker rather than drink spirits in a strange town. Have lost count of the number of times I have promised my stupid self never to touch this substance. Ouch! This pain sucks! I must have rolled downstairs or those dogs must have dragged me. But I believe I gave someone a good punch. Otherwise my fist should not be smarting like this. I hate bouncers. I am lucky though, fighting with unschooled bumpkins can be disastrous. It wasn’t funny men. That thing was real bad. Holy shit, I did a good job of cheating those thick cops. Otherwise it would be a different story now: assault causing real bodily harm, drunk and disorderly, destruction of property, disturbance of the peace….and what else those sick coppers could conjure up with their limited legal parlance. I hate cops with all my living soul. I should own a gun soon, legal or illegal, preferably an automatic. Don’t believe in killing people but cops are not human beings. They are a different species that biologist are yet to name. And that bitch wasn’t even worth a fight. Don’t even remember what the hag looked like but can recall grapping her tits. Funny! Every bitch has got its owner. Even those whom the devil created in his own very image. Alcohol is fuckin bad. Real hard fuckin bad!
Forget this pain anyway. It is such a small issue now. Have to concentrate with this shrink or counselor or doc or whatever they would like to be called. And this waiting room is so big; it would have made such a nice pub. God, I need a beer to work up my nerves. Alcoholism is in the genes. I read somewhere in some journal.
There is a sweet chick seated next to me. I wonder what has brought her. She is in such a dismal mood I can’t dare disturb her. My reveries are better. She seems to be lost in such a ghoulish trance. Or else what would contort a chick s face in such an angle?
If you would like to know that people can get serious, visit a VCT centre. Even the slim guy seated next to me is so deeply worried he should just die. The lady is ushered in. Noticed she had such a sweet derriere. Reminded me of ma ex. Ma best when it come to asses that is. Otherwise there is a harem of others with various but specific attractions too. Boobs (am a sucker for boobs, God! love them big) eyes, lips, legs, thighs, hair and other features God factored in a woman to disturb men. That gal had a bum to die for. I wonder what my mum would have said, had she met her. Maybe she would have been jealous or something. You never know with women, your mum included! The wiry guy is lead into the next room.
Am wishing that I be let into a room with a pretty-pretty gal, young at that. Don’t like discussing ma life with men, especially the sexual department. They can’t help anyway. Am not queer. You see, women could benefit by learning something men. Be they sex counselors or not. You can easily win their compassion. Even lay them. Life is like that. You never know the source of your next pussie unless you are thick.
The cheap clock on the wall struck three. This government guys are thieves. Am sure someone filed some wild returns that they bought this clock for a thousand shillings or even more. In a country where everybody is a fraud, rationality is a rare commodity. You find it in slums, not government offices. The lady with a knobby face walks out; her face looked just the same as I last saw her. These counselors don’t do nothing. How come that gal didn’t get better or worse? I doubt their education level, bet they are River Road grads and the minister of health must be from their village or most likely she pussied her way here. Pussie buys anything. Especially jobs. Forget what you see in porn. Those are second rate. There is real porn in high offices that never get to your attention. Especially if you are poor. Poverty is a serious disease. It precludes you of not only luxury but even information. Good gossip doesn’t come cheap. I tell you. After seeing that bitch’s face, I decided without anymore debate that I won’t take the test. No need to stress maself when I can avoid it. The bliss of ignorance.
Some hideous gal gave me a gummy smile and let me into some room. That smile wasn’t worth reciprocating, besides, am a firm believer in putting people where they belong. I aint such a nice guy. That am sure.
A lady with a red mini-skirt is seated facing some table to the wall. On the table are some boxes with some apparatus and papers. Reminded me of my high school lab. Several years ago. Was dating ma first gal. Claudia. Shy bitch in class eight, across the fence. But she was not a virgin. Neither was I. Claudia gave me ma first ride to the clouds nonetheless. Em days of sweet innocence. HIV was a rumor.
The chick swung from her chair to face me. Mary Mother of Jesus! That gal had thighs that could kill God the Almighty! This is the masterpiece thighs. Others are counterfeits. My tongue itched for a licking encounter. I could feel my dick rise at once in ma jeans. At that instance I confirmed I was not going to get tested. Who? Mee? Never! I want to lay this bitch. I wonna hear her scream. She rose and pointed a seat for me. I stood still for some seconds then regained my composure. I shoved ma ass to some settee in the corner and she came with some papers and sat next to me. Facing me. Looking at me. Exploring me with her lazy eyes. Oh my holy shit! Did she have boobs? Her nipples were begging for attention, the left one was bigger. I could die!
‘Hi and welcome to the community VCT centre, my name is Angela’ she told me in a sexy voice
‘Thenkx ma, ma name is Deeplow. Ts cool mirring yo’ I responded in a humble voice that was so hard to muster.
“Hey! you got such a strange name even though it is a policy to maintain the identity of our clients as anonymous as much as possible. Good to know your name though am sure I might forget it the next minute. Ok, How can I help you?’ she said with a trained smile they welcomed you with in a Five Star hotel. Very reassuring. Maybe she thought I was still interested in getting tested for this damn thing called HIV. Wished she could know that she had changed ma mission from stoking trouble to a simple lay.
‘Me is gat lotsa prolems ma. Dunno whera you cuu hulp me’ I said with subdued confidence to reflect that ma problems were dire.
“I am here to help you as much as I could. That is why we are here. The first step is you to express yourself as much as possible so that I can figure out what to do.’’
‘Thenkx ma. Well, I thought I nirred professional help to put ma sex life together. It is in shit ma. Real big shit. Am nut amused abourrit one lirl bit. AIDS aint a jook. Its lyk I have had too many chicks than is gud or normo. Think am addicted to flings or something lyk tha. Think I gorra fixit. Have tried before but flunked severally. Could you help me with thet. Its fuckin kreizy. Even now am tryin nut to have a hit on yer. Yer see, I cant resist gals. Twasnt always lyk thet. Think I hengd around the wrong guys.’ I said with a serious tone.
‘Aha haa haa, don’t say you already getting ideas with me, you can’t be serious!’ she laughed as she faced up, pushing her tits up in the process. Yellow full killing tits. Ma dick tightened harder. It hurt.
Talking sex is infectious. Now I know. Even people who are supposed to fight it can’t resist it. I thought.
‘I mean dear. Am serious. Wonna see ma fly? It’s bulging up”
‘No nooo. Not with me. Not now, not here. Remember you wanted help to fix that,’ she tried faking seriousness but could not make it. Immediately I felt triumphant. Those words betrayed someone who would not mind a lay. I had managed to change the atmosphere to be amorous.
‘Ahkey , ahkey, pls take ther as a jook. Dirrnt mean to. Sooo, what do you advise me then, I fuckin need some hulp’ I feigned shame and composure.
‘You speak nice English, where did you learn all that? That aside, are you sure you don’t need a test? Would really advise you to undergo that first. I will first have to counsel. Some people .Most. Are scared about it but it is not life and death. In case of anything you can still live a normal life.’ She deadpanned.
‘I surely don’t need no mutherfuckin tests. Am sure I aint gat nuh Aids but in case I garrit, it is the work of the post mortem guys, when am dead. Doiven try convicin me. Dowonna take that shit. Am shore. Just gimme the fuckin counseling n maby drugs to screw ma liking for chicks. This o I need for nao. If it daent waak out. I wi cam beck soon n letchu know.’ I said with finality
‘Ok, no problem. If you are not ready, then I am not going to force you into it. Well, counseling to quit sex might take some time. Hope you will be disciplined enough to adhere to the rules. We don’t have a sex rehab where we could confine you. It is a relatively new field. Its success will mainly depend with your full cooperation. There is no sex anonymous community to support you either. You really have to put a lot of effort. It is not totally insurmountable if you are committed.’
‘ Now that you are not for testing, let me get you some form to fill’ she rose steadily but not too careful so that I saw her pink panty( wish all ladies could be in pink panties, it really kills me) she swaggered , her high heels making sure her curvy ass swing in voluptuous rhythms. She retrieved some papers and came back smiling. Didn’t know that these people are relieved when nobody is getting tested. It is such a relief for all parties concerned. Or maybe she was sure that she has hooked up a hunk for the evening. Could not figure out what was going in her stupid skull.
Angelicious pulled a chair next to a table not far and beckoned me to it. She gave me a pen and stood beside me as I read the form, her boobs touched me as she bent to show me. Hard, firm, warm, hot, I just pushed back to relish in the hardness and expectedly, she didn’t resist. I savored the encounter for sometime and for once I was tempted to stand, take down ma pants and put ma cock in her boobs. I beat the temptation and decided to be serious for once in my life.
‘Could you find yerself a seat? Yer will get tired standin hii all tha time. Think I have known how to fill this thing, maby yer cuu come we summarize’ I told her in a serious tone
‘No, you might need some little help and I will get tired more by coming here and going there. Just fill it fast in case there is someone waiting’ there was some anger in her voice.
Lesson one: this broad does not take rejection kindly. I was surprised and decided to take my mind out of her breath and tits. Men! It wasn’t easy. But I had to try. At that instance, she beeped out of the door, liked what she saw, locked the door and told me I was the last client for that day so I could take my time. She resumed her position behind me and pushed her boobs harder on me.
I thought maybe to cure sex overdose in your life you needed more. She knew better. She was a professional. I was not. I skipped instructions, disclaimers blah blah and went ahead to fill the form. I decided that I will put a P.S reading: I filled it under the influence of boobs! Had a mind to do it.
I filled the motherfucking form thus;
Name:
Deeplow Hard (my mum had given me other names but they weren’t sexy, had to change men, besides, I am a global citizen and don’t want those shameless tribalists to discriminate against me)
Address:
P.O. Box 1600000000065 GPO Nairobi (I love zeros; they differentiate good bucks from chicken feed)
Profession:
Business by training, hustler by default, writer by career, (you guys should check my blogs, they are hot men) I moonlight as a gynae (this is one hobby/habit I would like to kick out with your help, have too many occupations already) drunkard, talker etc
Personality:
warm, humorous, witty, crackpot, cocky, brashy when having money, outgoing, don’t take no shit, happy-go-lucky, charming, charismatic, easy going, go-getter ( in short I am all that J.F Kennedy was. Everything. Add a little but take nothing) I am a playboy!
Interests:
Too many. Politics, women (ending from today), reading, writing, world affairs, business trends, entrepreneurship, money and music ( rock, rap, techno, pop and soul)
Present addictions:
Cunt (new), alcohol, facebook chats, city life, BBC, and VOA (love the voice of Kim Louis and Caroline Castielle,) CNN ( I blame it on Monita Rajpal) CNBC ( blame it on my fetish for Erin Burnett) I am international babie! Can’t stand the local bullshit. Am informed like shit, in fact I am a polymath.
Income level:
Comfortable to almost affluent – I knew I was lying, in fact am a broke ass.
Marital status:
I consider myself single but people are free to think about anything. Don’t real much care what every nitwit in the street think. The women I sired children with would tell you am married but ma gals will tell you am single. Very. It depends on which side of the sexual divide you are. Either way, am least concerned. They can take a plunge into the sea.
Religion:
Wish I could believe in God. Not that easy. No.
Orientation:
Can only be straight. I don’t really much care what people do with their asses, dicks n pussies. It is theirs in any case. I am not a prefect for the society. Unless somebody wants to be paying me for the job.
Family background:
Brought up in a not so close-knit family, a hard working and loving mother but with an absent and drunkard womanizing father. Religion was not discussed, and has never been discussed. I basically don’t know whether they are Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Atheists, Jews, Agnostics or Animists. My guess lies with the last two.
Years of addiction:
The dividing line between normal and addictive sex is indeed very difficult to draw. Even though am the subject, I find it really hard to tell. This is one of the issues I am seeking professional help.
I signed to be cooperative as much as possible and to avail ma ass when called upon.
All the while, Angela was continuing her sexual offensive on me. She didn’t notice what I wrote because she would have sought some clarifications on some of the wild information I was providing.
It was now my turn to return the advances. It was around six thirty in the evening by the time I was done.
It was drizzling outside. In the tropics, rain inspires a feeling of snuggling close to something. The tap tap tap sound on the roof made me wild. I pretended to sit back and hold one of the legs of the chair but extended my fingers to her legs. It was a double assault because my shoulders were now pressing on her boobs harder. I caressed her legs furtively as if by accident. She didn’t move. My experience with women has taught me that whenever there is no opposition in one level then you are free to move to the next level. I groped with my hands up her thighs. The warmer it got. Her pulse through her right tit got faster. Her breath became intense. I moved my fingers up and up her skirt till I touched the lining of her panty. She parted her legs in response as if to invite me to finger her. I did exactly that. There was a low moan. Her pussie was already juicy and warm. I rose and hold her close to me and kissed her lips. She was an expert kisser. She worked me crazy with her tongue. We fell on the settee near by. I undid her top with a rare impatience.
I seized her nipples, one hand each. Squeezed them and then decided to greet them with a kiss, then a suck and finally nibble them. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was opening and shutting in slow motion as if she was biting the pleasure bit by bit.
‘Deeplow! Boy! Please, please…do me some justice if you are a real man. Please boy, dip your dick into me .I beg you…ayah aaaaah oooaaaah, please! ’
I lifted her sweet skirt n removed her pink panty. The sound it made drove me nuts. I love the sound of panty as it is removed. It signifies victory on my side and complete surrender on her side. I love the sound that panties make as they are removed. It fires my passion, rejuvenates my libido and invigorates my energies before the action.
‘Deeplow! Please, do it nnnooow sssssss aaaaaaaa, aaaaaaa!’
I licked her yellow thighs slowly and slowly, up I marched, grandly to the Promised Land. I got to her well shaven pussie and something snapped in me, I was possessed, I sucked her clit into my mouth and she screamed. The whiff that hit ma nose as I did this made me almost scream…God!
I ripped open ma fly and lowered both my panty and jeans down and pulled out my long suffering dick.
what i fear of this death!
What I fear of this death!
What I fear of this death
Is to be forgotten
People to walk about my grave
Without any more grieve
People to go about their business
When I no longer matter
What I fear of this death
Is for my little kids
To look innocently at mourners
Without the slightest idea
Of what is going on
Not to cry for me
Not a memory of me
What I fear of this death
Is not to vote in the next election
Not to know who will go in next
Not to know who will go out next
What I fear of this death
Is to miss all the good music
Not to savor all the hits to come
Never to hear my rock classics again
What I fear of this death
Is for all the knowledge
That I have going to waste
Going down with me
What I fear of this death
Is for my snaps to be shown by friends
And be pointed as the guy who died
Months ago, years ago, decades ago
What I fear of this death
Is the loneliness in the grave
The cold lonely grave
Maybe in a wet day
With you dressed warm
And cold me alone
What I fear of this death
Is for my Facebook and e-mail account
What I fear of this death
Is me death
And everybody else alive!
What I fear of this death
Is to be forgotten
People to walk about my grave
Without any more grieve
People to go about their business
When I no longer matter
What I fear of this death
Is for my little kids
To look innocently at mourners
Without the slightest idea
Of what is going on
Not to cry for me
Not a memory of me
What I fear of this death
Is not to vote in the next election
Not to know who will go in next
Not to know who will go out next
What I fear of this death
Is to miss all the good music
Not to savor all the hits to come
Never to hear my rock classics again
What I fear of this death
Is for all the knowledge
That I have going to waste
Going down with me
What I fear of this death
Is for my snaps to be shown by friends
And be pointed as the guy who died
Months ago, years ago, decades ago
What I fear of this death
Is the loneliness in the grave
The cold lonely grave
Maybe in a wet day
With you dressed warm
And cold me alone
What I fear of this death
Is for my Facebook and e-mail account
What I fear of this death
Is me death
And everybody else alive!
the brown pubic hair
SEX DEBUT IN THE WOODS and the Brown Pubic Hair
I don’t know how it feels to launch a debut album, but if ma sex debut is anything to go by, then any debut is a roller coaster of emotions. I will ask Obama how it felt launching his presidential campaign. Think they are all the same: anxiety, prayers that it will go well, fear of the unexpected happening, last minute fixing of loopholes and then, the plunge!
I was fourteen, God bless that sweet age, and in form two, it was August holidays. I was a hot cake because I had lead in my primary school exams in the district, the only boy in a national school in the village. I would have screwed any gal but I was not aware of ma celeb status until my cousin told me that he approached a gal only to tell him that she would do anything to get me. That was some news men! Only problem is, I had never handled a gal before, save for the childhood games when I was age three. Well, that can’t be called sex.
It was a market day, the first one on holidays and my cousin, who was schooling with the gal had planned a rendezvous for that day at four p.m. Market days served as a platform for dates. As planned, we met the gal at four. She was schooling and living in town but used to go to the village for the weekends. They were flush with cash, her dad worked in Nairobi. Every boy in the village was dying for her. I was lucky but though I wanted a lay, I didn’t quite know how to procure it. Not even how to do it if and when I got it.
We exchanged the normal pleasantries and decided on giving her a push to her village home. We avoided the main road. The shortcut to her place passed through our farm. We took the road by a river. I was shy, she was shy. My cousin pushed the discussion. We got talking. After a while, my cousin, the master strategist begged to go back to town. We released him. We talked as we walked and then I indicated we take a path that cuts through the woods. She didn’t object. We got to some clearing with tall grass. I and my elder brother used to hunt rabbits in the spot. The woods were familiar as it was our farm. I indicated we sit down. We sat.
I had never watched any porn movie before. It would have helped me. I moved closed to her and held her. She placed the palm of her hand to block her face. I didn’t know what to do. Had never kissed anybody before. I made her lie down. She didn’t resist. Her boobs were full and sweet under her red bra. I didn’t know that you could kiss them. I pushed her school tunic up. I was shaking with trepidation. I thought I was dreaming. It could not have been true.
Foreplay was nonexistent in me and I believe in the whole village. She was smiling sheepishly. I lied on top of her and eased her red panty to the side at the position of the cunthole. It was what we used to do with gals when we were kids. I saw some sparse pubic hairs. It made my dick wild. I placed my young dick on her young pussie. I shoved it into her but was hard. I pushed further and she told me she was getting hurt. I insisted on pushing. I touched somewhere warm inside her, it turned hot. I moved up n down for a while then suddenly I felt something I have never experienced before. Something that made my whole body numb. I thought it was a heart failure.
Something watery dropped from ma dick…One, two, three. I held her tight. It was sweet. Very sweet. Good lord, this is so sweeeeeeeeet! I almost screamed. That was it. After that phenomenon, my dick recoiled. I rose up and did my trouser. She lied down there and stared at me. I told her I was leaving. I was feeling shy. I asked her when we could meet again. She just stared. I left the scene feeling nonplussed but happy. I was exhilarated. I went home. I checked my cock; it had two strands of pubic hair on the spermhole. Brown pubic hair. I kept them in my wallet. They are still there to date.
Despite so much effort, that gal never greeted me again for some years to come. Leave alone a second ride in the woods. Maybe I should return her pubic hair. Maybe in the woods where I had inadvertently picked them. Will discuss it with her someday.
She is happily married to a friend of mine, together they have two kids. I know I screwed up my first sex date but I hoped she took into consideration my naivety. That was the best orgasm ever. She holds a special place in my sex chart.
I will make it a hobby of collecting pubic hairs. Only that chicks shave them clean these days. Perhaps I will be lucky with a few. I fear it will be the young ones mostly.
I don’t know how it feels to launch a debut album, but if ma sex debut is anything to go by, then any debut is a roller coaster of emotions. I will ask Obama how it felt launching his presidential campaign. Think they are all the same: anxiety, prayers that it will go well, fear of the unexpected happening, last minute fixing of loopholes and then, the plunge!
I was fourteen, God bless that sweet age, and in form two, it was August holidays. I was a hot cake because I had lead in my primary school exams in the district, the only boy in a national school in the village. I would have screwed any gal but I was not aware of ma celeb status until my cousin told me that he approached a gal only to tell him that she would do anything to get me. That was some news men! Only problem is, I had never handled a gal before, save for the childhood games when I was age three. Well, that can’t be called sex.
It was a market day, the first one on holidays and my cousin, who was schooling with the gal had planned a rendezvous for that day at four p.m. Market days served as a platform for dates. As planned, we met the gal at four. She was schooling and living in town but used to go to the village for the weekends. They were flush with cash, her dad worked in Nairobi. Every boy in the village was dying for her. I was lucky but though I wanted a lay, I didn’t quite know how to procure it. Not even how to do it if and when I got it.
We exchanged the normal pleasantries and decided on giving her a push to her village home. We avoided the main road. The shortcut to her place passed through our farm. We took the road by a river. I was shy, she was shy. My cousin pushed the discussion. We got talking. After a while, my cousin, the master strategist begged to go back to town. We released him. We talked as we walked and then I indicated we take a path that cuts through the woods. She didn’t object. We got to some clearing with tall grass. I and my elder brother used to hunt rabbits in the spot. The woods were familiar as it was our farm. I indicated we sit down. We sat.
I had never watched any porn movie before. It would have helped me. I moved closed to her and held her. She placed the palm of her hand to block her face. I didn’t know what to do. Had never kissed anybody before. I made her lie down. She didn’t resist. Her boobs were full and sweet under her red bra. I didn’t know that you could kiss them. I pushed her school tunic up. I was shaking with trepidation. I thought I was dreaming. It could not have been true.
Foreplay was nonexistent in me and I believe in the whole village. She was smiling sheepishly. I lied on top of her and eased her red panty to the side at the position of the cunthole. It was what we used to do with gals when we were kids. I saw some sparse pubic hairs. It made my dick wild. I placed my young dick on her young pussie. I shoved it into her but was hard. I pushed further and she told me she was getting hurt. I insisted on pushing. I touched somewhere warm inside her, it turned hot. I moved up n down for a while then suddenly I felt something I have never experienced before. Something that made my whole body numb. I thought it was a heart failure.
Something watery dropped from ma dick…One, two, three. I held her tight. It was sweet. Very sweet. Good lord, this is so sweeeeeeeeet! I almost screamed. That was it. After that phenomenon, my dick recoiled. I rose up and did my trouser. She lied down there and stared at me. I told her I was leaving. I was feeling shy. I asked her when we could meet again. She just stared. I left the scene feeling nonplussed but happy. I was exhilarated. I went home. I checked my cock; it had two strands of pubic hair on the spermhole. Brown pubic hair. I kept them in my wallet. They are still there to date.
Despite so much effort, that gal never greeted me again for some years to come. Leave alone a second ride in the woods. Maybe I should return her pubic hair. Maybe in the woods where I had inadvertently picked them. Will discuss it with her someday.
She is happily married to a friend of mine, together they have two kids. I know I screwed up my first sex date but I hoped she took into consideration my naivety. That was the best orgasm ever. She holds a special place in my sex chart.
I will make it a hobby of collecting pubic hairs. Only that chicks shave them clean these days. Perhaps I will be lucky with a few. I fear it will be the young ones mostly.
what will become of that woman?
What will become of that woman?
I wonder what will become of my neighbor and her marriage! It is three a.m. in the morning now you know. Just woken to the memories of what I/we did last evening.
Lemme do a bit of explaining here. Last weekend I had a fight with the bouncers in my home pub- the Sheppard’s. So, this Friday, I decided to give the good bottle a break, probably a divorce. You all know how divorces go. Not easy at all. So I decided to go home early. I don’t remember the last time I have been home at five pm in ma lifetime.
As I walked home, I was thinking of what will replace drinking as a pastime. I was mulling over several options, but hitting on married women as their husbands drink was certainly not one of them.
As I reluctantly walked home, I was joined by my neighbor who was from the corner shop. That bitch normally says hi to me with a broad smile whenever we meet. We normally exchange pleasantries and nothing beyond that. As we took the stairs to our first floor apartments, our bodies came into contact accidentally or so I thought. She then invited me for tea but I was a bit hesitant. She insisted and I decided it will be a good way to pass the evening.
As we enter her apartment, I asked her whether her husband won’t take offence in case he finds us in his house yet we are not even the slightest of acquaintances. She assured me that it will be ok and in any case she was not expecting him till late that evening. She further reassured me that they don’t have a policy of not inviting visitors. That got me relaxed.
She went to the kitchen and fixed a cuppa. She came back and went to an adjoining room that I later learned it was their bedroom. There were no kids in the house and I didn’t ask whether they had any. After a second or so she gave out a sharp cry that made me jump to my feet and check her. She stood there shuddering. She tolme that her switch has electrocuted her. I held her hand and consoled her that the voltage was not high enough to cause any harm.
She grabbed me and held me tight. Maybe it was the shock. I held her too without much knowing what else to do. She told me she wanted to sit on the bed. I put her down and made to rise but she pulled me to her. She held me still and before I knew, she was searching my mouth for a kiss. Sex has never taken me by surprise since when I was kid. It was such a pleasant surprise. Not one to squander a fucking opportunity, I kissed her back and before long we were kissing, caressing and fondling each other.
She pulled a side drawer and removed a packet of condoms. I took it and ripped it open. She removed her panty in a second and she bend to hold the side edge of the bed. She lifted her skirt up to expose some smooth brown bums. I could see the yellow lips of her pussie beckoning at me. I gave them a deep kiss with my tongue and she moaned continuously. Nothing fires me up before sex than a woman moaning. It is like a distress call.
I put on a condom in a flash, bend to her, held her neck with both hands and pumped into her. I spanked her bum with ma right hand as I held her neck with ma left hand. As I rocked her bum, she also moved back and forth and shook it at the same time. She begged me to spank her more and go faster and faster. As she came, she moaned even louder than when she was (allegedly) electrocuted. When we were done, I dumped the spent condom with ma juice by the bed where she had thrown her red g-string. We held each other for a while as we laughed.
The best sex is unplanned, and unearned. What a hot new replacement for beer!
We went to the dining room for our tea. I was happy, she was happy. I didn’t even know her name. Maybe I was to ask it later. But then there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it. In, came her husband. Said hi and went to the same bedroom we had just screwed in. I remembered the used condom by the red g-string. I bolted out. Didn’t say bye to the sweet lady.
I by-passed my door. To the Sheppard’s for a cold beer. I wonder what happened to that lady. That was lasnite. Awaiting sunlight to check this out. Oh! How I wish it was just another African fairy tale. But it is not.
I wonder what will become of my neighbor and her marriage! It is three a.m. in the morning now you know. Just woken to the memories of what I/we did last evening.
Lemme do a bit of explaining here. Last weekend I had a fight with the bouncers in my home pub- the Sheppard’s. So, this Friday, I decided to give the good bottle a break, probably a divorce. You all know how divorces go. Not easy at all. So I decided to go home early. I don’t remember the last time I have been home at five pm in ma lifetime.
As I walked home, I was thinking of what will replace drinking as a pastime. I was mulling over several options, but hitting on married women as their husbands drink was certainly not one of them.
As I reluctantly walked home, I was joined by my neighbor who was from the corner shop. That bitch normally says hi to me with a broad smile whenever we meet. We normally exchange pleasantries and nothing beyond that. As we took the stairs to our first floor apartments, our bodies came into contact accidentally or so I thought. She then invited me for tea but I was a bit hesitant. She insisted and I decided it will be a good way to pass the evening.
As we enter her apartment, I asked her whether her husband won’t take offence in case he finds us in his house yet we are not even the slightest of acquaintances. She assured me that it will be ok and in any case she was not expecting him till late that evening. She further reassured me that they don’t have a policy of not inviting visitors. That got me relaxed.
She went to the kitchen and fixed a cuppa. She came back and went to an adjoining room that I later learned it was their bedroom. There were no kids in the house and I didn’t ask whether they had any. After a second or so she gave out a sharp cry that made me jump to my feet and check her. She stood there shuddering. She tolme that her switch has electrocuted her. I held her hand and consoled her that the voltage was not high enough to cause any harm.
She grabbed me and held me tight. Maybe it was the shock. I held her too without much knowing what else to do. She told me she wanted to sit on the bed. I put her down and made to rise but she pulled me to her. She held me still and before I knew, she was searching my mouth for a kiss. Sex has never taken me by surprise since when I was kid. It was such a pleasant surprise. Not one to squander a fucking opportunity, I kissed her back and before long we were kissing, caressing and fondling each other.
She pulled a side drawer and removed a packet of condoms. I took it and ripped it open. She removed her panty in a second and she bend to hold the side edge of the bed. She lifted her skirt up to expose some smooth brown bums. I could see the yellow lips of her pussie beckoning at me. I gave them a deep kiss with my tongue and she moaned continuously. Nothing fires me up before sex than a woman moaning. It is like a distress call.
I put on a condom in a flash, bend to her, held her neck with both hands and pumped into her. I spanked her bum with ma right hand as I held her neck with ma left hand. As I rocked her bum, she also moved back and forth and shook it at the same time. She begged me to spank her more and go faster and faster. As she came, she moaned even louder than when she was (allegedly) electrocuted. When we were done, I dumped the spent condom with ma juice by the bed where she had thrown her red g-string. We held each other for a while as we laughed.
The best sex is unplanned, and unearned. What a hot new replacement for beer!
We went to the dining room for our tea. I was happy, she was happy. I didn’t even know her name. Maybe I was to ask it later. But then there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it. In, came her husband. Said hi and went to the same bedroom we had just screwed in. I remembered the used condom by the red g-string. I bolted out. Didn’t say bye to the sweet lady.
I by-passed my door. To the Sheppard’s for a cold beer. I wonder what happened to that lady. That was lasnite. Awaiting sunlight to check this out. Oh! How I wish it was just another African fairy tale. But it is not.
facebook blind date shit!
FACEBOOK BLIND DATE SHIT
Every other invention has unintended consequences. Both positive n negative. When mobile phones became widely available, it revolutionized dating. So to condom, it made casual flings a real game, even incest. Viagra was intended as a heart drug but it failed and ED became a thing of the past. Read yesterday that a drug that was meant as antidepressant failed but instead fired up libido in women. Women, you will soon smile all the way to bed. With your legs wide open, ready for action. It seems, of late, every invention becomes better used for what it was not intended for.
Facebook, the social networking site has its share of unintended effects. I love strangers, so don’t blame me for not knowing a single individual who make up my list of friends. I have no use for men either. They don’t rock me. I have a policy of strictly not caring to invite men. Even if you insist. All my exes are fighting to comment on my updates. But let this be a story for another day.
Okay, I have a thousand strange bitches as friends. No mean feat assembling this motley crew. Have met not a single soul of these. Some are white, some are black other colors are simply nondescript. Some are in Kenya, others in Africa. To make it simple, they are spread in all the five continents. Some are ladies, some are gals, and many are ageless. And of late, as this story will attest, there are sluts. Real fuckin gold diggers.
This particular whore had a nice pic but it didn’t include her face for reasons that I was to learn later. Boobs to make Janet Jackson shy, thighs that you can only come across in Rio. A nice skirt that exposed some shapely pieces of legs. It is my idea of a perfect gal.
I checked her profile info and it was satisfactory if not a tad sophisticated. She talked of horse riding and playing golf. That is some piece of class men! I targeted this bitch for a chat and she didn’t disappoint.
My chat with this bitch; Fiona, as I later retrieved from Facebook for this story, went like this:
ME: hey sexxxy gal…wassup!
FIONA: hey!
Me: hows you doin…..you got a hot pic, lovely!
FIONA: thenkx…..you are looking good yourself!
Me: thenkx dear…you got some sweet boobs, yummmmy!
FIONA: hey stop that, you making me shy
Me: dowonna be shy, you gotta be proud n floss, they are the rare type
FIONA: You are a flatterer but thanks anyway, so what you doing now
Me: chatting with you I think
FIONA: lol! Stop kidding, I mean, where you are, working?
ME: oh...i gotcha now..am in da house, sipping some Johnnie Walker if you insist on details
FIONA: Johny Walker? Mmm! Ok. You aren’t working today?
ME: I retired, I hit a big jackpot, wonna give other people the opp to get jobs
FIONA: You are lying. How come I didn’t read in the papers?
ME: twas an online jackpot, probably it escaped yer
FIONA: oh I see, lucky you
ME: maby, I don’t see maself as lucky, where u at yoself?
FIONA: am in colle, University of Nairobi
ME: that’s great, whats you studying?
FIONA: am doing media and communications
ME: wow! That’s such a cool course, you wonna kill men on TV gal, those boobs!
FIONA: thenkx, I wonna do radio, am shy
ME: maby yo voice will make me buy a new radio
FIONA: lets wait n see
ME: whats you upto tonite? It’s a Friday you know
FIONA: got no real plans, think am gonna study for exams
ME: mean, u don’t heng out, time for everythin gal
FIONA: I stopped going out sometime ago
ME: wharrapened?
FIONA: I got bored
ME: what made it suck, wharriif yo boyfie insists
FIONA: don’t have a boyfie now
ME: why? You too cute to be alone
FIONA: I dumped him, just got bored with him
ME: why, he wasn’t upto the game?
FIONA: what game, you are funny, he played me
ME: sorry for that, maby you didn’t give him enough
FIONA: it is not a must
ME: stop kidding, you mean you don’t enjoy sex
FIONA: I don’t
ME: what if I become yo boyfie; will you let me kiss yo sweeet boobs? I wont resist the temptation to do it
FIONA: how did you know they are sweet?
ME: they look hard n firm and fresh, wish I could hold them, squeeze the nipples
FIONA: you are going too far, ma nipples are not that big
ME: if I pass my tongue on them they gonna be big, am licking them on the screen already
FIONA: lol..You are cheeky
ME: anybody seeing those boobs is gonna get cheeky, gosh! Am so horny
FIONA: stop talking this trash then
ME: no, maby you can touch ma dick and twill be ok
FIONA: don’t touch dicks
ME: doworry, you gat nuthin to lose, I will do all the touching and licking. Am gonna lick all the juice in yo pussie dry.
FIONA: are you sure? N what else? You are a bad boy!
ME: that n more, gotta watch out though, I could easily swallow yo clit
FIONA: Really? My clit is so small
ME: doworry am gonna excite it n make it big n swallow it, yo pussie must be sweet!
FIONA: bad boy, you sure?
ME: am shore, wait n see, though you better watch out cos you might scream too much
FIONA: am not the screaming type
ME: you aint been done right, trust me gal, I got the magic stick, am gonna hit it to the home stretch
FIONA: lol! Home stretch? What if I don’t get there?
ME: chop ma dick off n take it home as a souvenir n label it loud mouth
FIONA: aha haa…
ME: would you mind a drink at the Sheppard’s tonite
FIONA: Maybe. But let it be early
ME: you can come right away
FIONA: How will I know you?
ME: take ma number 0722 953 981, gimme yos, just in case
FIONA: Ok. 0726 074 734
ME: will call yer when me get to town, twas fun chatting with yer babie...you such a sweet chat
FIONA: it was nice too. Bye
ME: bye HONIE! Cant wait to see yer, Cheers!
So far, so good! I jumped into the bathroom and showered as I sang the latest of Black Eyed Peas…Got a feeling, that tonite gonna be a good nite….that tonite gonna be a good good nite….uuuh uuuh! I was excited and anxious that I had won a trophy…her legs could not get out of my mind.
I put on loafers, jeans, and a hot t-shirt. I was lookin n feeln like a member of a rock band. I had worn ma rarest perfume. The one I bought in South Africa. I alerted two of ma hunting pals that I had a bounty waiting for their eyes at the Sheppard’s. They promised to play witness to ma catch. Off I went to town.
As we were seated at the lounge, my phone rang. True to expectations, it wrote FIONA! I almost punched in the air. I picked it up. Some sweet voice answered. I explained where we were seated.
1. Some tart stood on the door to the lounge and made a phone call. I didn’t mind because she was not familiar or in any way a gal like Fiona. Surprisingly, my phone rang and again showed Fiona! The haggard slut on the door could not be FIONA! God! No, not before my friends! The devil approached us n extended her hand at me. She was something out of a garbage heap. Some strong cheap perfume hit my nose. Shit! I froze in ma seat. Ma friends were left staring. What a nite!
TO BE CONTINUED!
Every other invention has unintended consequences. Both positive n negative. When mobile phones became widely available, it revolutionized dating. So to condom, it made casual flings a real game, even incest. Viagra was intended as a heart drug but it failed and ED became a thing of the past. Read yesterday that a drug that was meant as antidepressant failed but instead fired up libido in women. Women, you will soon smile all the way to bed. With your legs wide open, ready for action. It seems, of late, every invention becomes better used for what it was not intended for.
Facebook, the social networking site has its share of unintended effects. I love strangers, so don’t blame me for not knowing a single individual who make up my list of friends. I have no use for men either. They don’t rock me. I have a policy of strictly not caring to invite men. Even if you insist. All my exes are fighting to comment on my updates. But let this be a story for another day.
Okay, I have a thousand strange bitches as friends. No mean feat assembling this motley crew. Have met not a single soul of these. Some are white, some are black other colors are simply nondescript. Some are in Kenya, others in Africa. To make it simple, they are spread in all the five continents. Some are ladies, some are gals, and many are ageless. And of late, as this story will attest, there are sluts. Real fuckin gold diggers.
This particular whore had a nice pic but it didn’t include her face for reasons that I was to learn later. Boobs to make Janet Jackson shy, thighs that you can only come across in Rio. A nice skirt that exposed some shapely pieces of legs. It is my idea of a perfect gal.
I checked her profile info and it was satisfactory if not a tad sophisticated. She talked of horse riding and playing golf. That is some piece of class men! I targeted this bitch for a chat and she didn’t disappoint.
My chat with this bitch; Fiona, as I later retrieved from Facebook for this story, went like this:
ME: hey sexxxy gal…wassup!
FIONA: hey!
Me: hows you doin…..you got a hot pic, lovely!
FIONA: thenkx…..you are looking good yourself!
Me: thenkx dear…you got some sweet boobs, yummmmy!
FIONA: hey stop that, you making me shy
Me: dowonna be shy, you gotta be proud n floss, they are the rare type
FIONA: You are a flatterer but thanks anyway, so what you doing now
Me: chatting with you I think
FIONA: lol! Stop kidding, I mean, where you are, working?
ME: oh...i gotcha now..am in da house, sipping some Johnnie Walker if you insist on details
FIONA: Johny Walker? Mmm! Ok. You aren’t working today?
ME: I retired, I hit a big jackpot, wonna give other people the opp to get jobs
FIONA: You are lying. How come I didn’t read in the papers?
ME: twas an online jackpot, probably it escaped yer
FIONA: oh I see, lucky you
ME: maby, I don’t see maself as lucky, where u at yoself?
FIONA: am in colle, University of Nairobi
ME: that’s great, whats you studying?
FIONA: am doing media and communications
ME: wow! That’s such a cool course, you wonna kill men on TV gal, those boobs!
FIONA: thenkx, I wonna do radio, am shy
ME: maby yo voice will make me buy a new radio
FIONA: lets wait n see
ME: whats you upto tonite? It’s a Friday you know
FIONA: got no real plans, think am gonna study for exams
ME: mean, u don’t heng out, time for everythin gal
FIONA: I stopped going out sometime ago
ME: wharrapened?
FIONA: I got bored
ME: what made it suck, wharriif yo boyfie insists
FIONA: don’t have a boyfie now
ME: why? You too cute to be alone
FIONA: I dumped him, just got bored with him
ME: why, he wasn’t upto the game?
FIONA: what game, you are funny, he played me
ME: sorry for that, maby you didn’t give him enough
FIONA: it is not a must
ME: stop kidding, you mean you don’t enjoy sex
FIONA: I don’t
ME: what if I become yo boyfie; will you let me kiss yo sweeet boobs? I wont resist the temptation to do it
FIONA: how did you know they are sweet?
ME: they look hard n firm and fresh, wish I could hold them, squeeze the nipples
FIONA: you are going too far, ma nipples are not that big
ME: if I pass my tongue on them they gonna be big, am licking them on the screen already
FIONA: lol..You are cheeky
ME: anybody seeing those boobs is gonna get cheeky, gosh! Am so horny
FIONA: stop talking this trash then
ME: no, maby you can touch ma dick and twill be ok
FIONA: don’t touch dicks
ME: doworry, you gat nuthin to lose, I will do all the touching and licking. Am gonna lick all the juice in yo pussie dry.
FIONA: are you sure? N what else? You are a bad boy!
ME: that n more, gotta watch out though, I could easily swallow yo clit
FIONA: Really? My clit is so small
ME: doworry am gonna excite it n make it big n swallow it, yo pussie must be sweet!
FIONA: bad boy, you sure?
ME: am shore, wait n see, though you better watch out cos you might scream too much
FIONA: am not the screaming type
ME: you aint been done right, trust me gal, I got the magic stick, am gonna hit it to the home stretch
FIONA: lol! Home stretch? What if I don’t get there?
ME: chop ma dick off n take it home as a souvenir n label it loud mouth
FIONA: aha haa…
ME: would you mind a drink at the Sheppard’s tonite
FIONA: Maybe. But let it be early
ME: you can come right away
FIONA: How will I know you?
ME: take ma number 0722 953 981, gimme yos, just in case
FIONA: Ok. 0726 074 734
ME: will call yer when me get to town, twas fun chatting with yer babie...you such a sweet chat
FIONA: it was nice too. Bye
ME: bye HONIE! Cant wait to see yer, Cheers!
So far, so good! I jumped into the bathroom and showered as I sang the latest of Black Eyed Peas…Got a feeling, that tonite gonna be a good nite….that tonite gonna be a good good nite….uuuh uuuh! I was excited and anxious that I had won a trophy…her legs could not get out of my mind.
I put on loafers, jeans, and a hot t-shirt. I was lookin n feeln like a member of a rock band. I had worn ma rarest perfume. The one I bought in South Africa. I alerted two of ma hunting pals that I had a bounty waiting for their eyes at the Sheppard’s. They promised to play witness to ma catch. Off I went to town.
As we were seated at the lounge, my phone rang. True to expectations, it wrote FIONA! I almost punched in the air. I picked it up. Some sweet voice answered. I explained where we were seated.
1. Some tart stood on the door to the lounge and made a phone call. I didn’t mind because she was not familiar or in any way a gal like Fiona. Surprisingly, my phone rang and again showed Fiona! The haggard slut on the door could not be FIONA! God! No, not before my friends! The devil approached us n extended her hand at me. She was something out of a garbage heap. Some strong cheap perfume hit my nose. Shit! I froze in ma seat. Ma friends were left staring. What a nite!
TO BE CONTINUED!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)