Catch up with Man Man

CONTACT: manman@fsmail.ne

A Whisper from London (The other side of the city)

December 30 2011 at 2:33 PM

Every man of my age would admit that our main problem in the village when growing up was transport. Our legs came in handy in the sense that they would take us to every corner of the country that we wanted. As expected there were some two or three people in the village who had seen the light and bought themselves cars. These are the people who we as villagers treated like small gods. Some treated us with respect while others walked all over us. The bad lot could talk obscenity even when elderly people were around.


If there was a time that we wanted cars around, it was the time when a woman had labour pains and was in an urgent urge to go to the hospital. I could watch helplessly as the other women carried her in a bid to reach the hospital before her water broke. The journey to the hospital was long and dangerous. Here is a woman who could deliver anytime and it is at night and there are no street lights. Imagine walking through this hill and valley to the next and the unborn baby is just about to come out. Just visualise that the woman in question is a little, naive teenage girl who has never seen the inside of a maternity. If you value humanity see the danger she is in, same to her unborn child. Can you see her pain as the babys head tries unsuccessfully to come out of her tiny opening? At this point in time, the other women would gather and make a makeshift hospital and try to help the woman. At times they were not successful and the woman and her baby would lose their lives. I remember one car owner in the village driving past a woman who was in dire need of going to hospital to deliver. He told the other women that his car was not hospital. On hearing that, I looked up in the sky and told God that if he would by any chance give me a car when I am of age, I would help everybody in need. One day my faith and promise was put to test. Here we go:-


By 31ST December of every year in the company I worked for, we had to send our sales reports to our Head office in America. We used to receive business from all over the world and in fact in our industry we were the biggest and the best in the whole world. This means that we had to verify and verify again and again that the report was correct. In case the report was erroneous and misleading, then someones job was in jeopardy. Immediately after Christmas season, we would brainstorm even with the top Management because the buck stopped with them. It was not then unusual to find us leaving the offices at midnight.


Again that time of the year had come and as was the tradition, I left our offices some minutes past midnight. I entered my car and headed home. On the way, I decided to pass through a famous Fish and Chips shop near Jeevanjee gardens where I bought myself a generous amount of fish and chips and some drinks. I was single and searching so I had to carry something to eat anyway. Suddenly I was again in high speed on my way home.


I was usually used to taking the route through city Stadium but for some reasons unknown to me, I decided to take Thika road where I would eventually branch at some point and head to the east. No sooner had I reached Pangani than it started to rain cats and dogs plus their mums and dads. Scientists were calling that kind of rain El-nino but my people in the village were calling it demonic rain. One minute the sky is very pregnant with rain and the rest of the day heavens would break with rain and more rain. One year ago when such rain would come, it would rain and rain on me with impunity. I would go home dead wet and question no one. This time round, God had answered my prayers and given me a car. I could place my coat at the back seat, put the heater on plus my favourite music as the car ate miles and miles. God you are able and you are merciful. As my car waded through a mass exodus of water going to God knows where, I remembered my people in the village who came to this world and will never own a car. I made a quick flashback of how pregnant women had a hard time reaching the hospital in time and tears swelled on my eyes. Yes, we live in two worlds, there are those who live in abundance while others are barely trying to survive.


I had by now left Thika road and I would now drive on a kind of a straight line that ended at the airport. I was surprised to realise that at that hour there were no cars or any movement of life. It was dark and it was even dangerous to drive very fast. To the left side was a slum which was a fertile ground of hiding criminals and I was in a very dangerous place alone at that hour. From Thika road one had to make a rough descent along a valley before ascending to the adjacent hilly surface. On the bend of the valley a lot of water had gathered on the road and had adamantly refused to give way. There was no way I would stop there at that hour and so I used my survival instincts to carefully and slowly drive through. I knew very well that if my cars engine made the wrong revolution, it would stop and so chances of I losing my car and my life was as easy as a kissing game.


By good luck I moved on and I was out of danger once again. On looking outside, I saw that it was pitch dark, just a cold blanket of darkness. How on earth could it be that at that hour there was no car passing? Where had the entire world gone to? I applied the highest gear at least to be out of the slum area. I had friends of mine who told me that the place was notorious with carjacking and smashing of windscreens. I was not ready for any of those. I soon realised that after all I was okay and I was doing well despite the heavy downpour that literally refused to stop at least for a second.


It was now approaching about 01:30 A.M. and my car despite the rainy condition outside was in good shape. The smell of fish and chips that I had bought engulfed the whole car and the whole place was well warm. I put on one gospel CD at least to show God that I was thankful that I had already shed the village poverty in me and I was now on the other side of the city where people had abundance mentality. Love me or hate me but to be in the circle of my friends, you must add value to my life and you must have a positive attitude in life.


Before joining my last part of the journey, I had to cross a road that cut my normal road like a cross. The world outside now looked like an orange that had been cut four times in total darkness. Ahead of me was a bridge which was a very dangerous point at that ungodly hour. There was a bar which was frequented by armed thugs and why the relevant authorities were not taking action on them is a mystery to me. On the right hand side was a forest that harboured dangerous snakes from the evidence I had seen from a TV documentary. An old looking snake had one time swallowed a whole adult goat all by himself at day time without blinking an eye-lid. What would he not eat at night? To the southern part of the land was an extension of the slum and some garages which housed criminals.


Just as I was some few meters about to embark on joining the main road reading to my home I saw a white thing pass across the road in a flash. It was still extremely dark and it was now raining very hard. I was astonished because throught my journey from town, I had not seen anything that suggested that there was life outside. Just as I was trying to figure out what that was, I saw a young girl of about eight years crying. She was wearing white dress, white jacket and white shoes and was running away crying loudly. She had now decided to follow the road while still running and crying as loud as she could. I applied full lights to see her properly. When I was about to reach her, I slowed down and I saw that behind her were some four tall boys who to my opinion were chokoras as we called them. I could not believe what was happening because this was a young girl in danger. Ahead of her was a bridge where thugs used to hide and molest people. Behind her was my car which could knock her down anytime. If she decided to enter in the forest, then it meant that she was an easy meal to the hungry venomous snakes. Behind her still were chokoras who I believed wanted to rape her. God in Heaven, creator of Heaven and earth, what did this young helpless girl do to deserve this? Where were her parents? So as to avoid my car, she deviated her way and was now about to run into the forest. This was my time to act. I quickly stopped the car and sounded my horn as loudly as I could. The boys scattered away and I asked her to come quickly and enter in the car. She looked at me and kind of ignored me. When I saw her about to enter in the forest, I almost screamed at her to be aware of the snakes inside. On hearing about snakes, she ran straight to my car. I opened for her and she sat on the passenger seat.


I had to make sure that I left the place immediately because even me and my car, we were not safe. After about half a mile I parked the car by the roadside so as to know more about the girl. Her clothes were completely wet and she was very cold from the way her tiny teeth were knocking each other. She was also shaking and from the way she was yawning, I realised that she was very hungry. I passed her my fish and chips and she ate hungrily. At this time she was still crying even after assuring her that all was okay and that she was safe. She had long curry hair and it was obvious that one of her parents were white. Her clear blue eyes looked at me and she started to cry more. I tried to ask her what her name was and she just looked at me and cried more. I was now worried and desperate. Supposing she was not a normal girl, maybe a spirit from somewhere? Was she an Angel from Heaven, why all the white dress, white jacket and white shoes? Did she by any chance own some wings under her arms, maybe a tail? What of if she was a child criminal, maybe a suicide bomber? I was worried. As she could not talk, told her that I was dropping her at the nearby Police station to help her. She now opened up:-
Me: Listen here, I have just saved you and I want to help you, whats your name?
Little girl: My name is Farida.

Me: Where are your parents?
Little girl: Mum is at home and my fathers name is Ziegeinbein.
Me: Tell me what happened, how did it happen that you are away from home especially at this hour?
Little girl: I had gone to visit my Auntie, I waited for her and she never came. I was told that she lives in Mukuru kwa Njenga.
She went on to tell me that she lives with her mum, brother and her elder brother in Mathare valley. I decided to take her back to her house in Mathare. I could have taken her to my house and then take her to Mathare the following day but then I decided to take her to her mum the same day. What of if the neighbours woke up and found a girl, young enough to be my daughter in my house? How would I explain it? My integrity is beyond reproach.


The journey to Mathare valley was a very unpleasant one. I had to drive deep, deep in the interior of Mathare which was even more dangerous for me. Fortunately there is life round the clock in Mathare. We reached her house and knocked the door. On opening the door, I saw her grandmother, very, very old and almost blind. Her mother stared at me and started calling me Zieg. She held my hand and went on her knees begging me not to leave her. What was happening? The brother was a young, handsome thin man of about fifteen years. He was cooking ugali for the family (at that hour!). The grandmother and brother thanked me so much for helping young Farida. The grandmother then went on to tell me that the mother was suffering from mental illness and I should just ignore her. She was not even aware that her daughter was about to die an hour ago. Of course I had to say goodbye and asked them to take care of their daughter. I asked the brother to escort me to my car and that is when he told me that her mother started developing mental illness after their father left her and married another woman. Their father was rich person of German origin and that they were living in Mombasa in affluent suburbs in South coast. The dad had by then relocated back to Germany with his new girlfriend to start a new life there. The family was now depending on what he could earn as a Jua kali Artist.


As I was back in my car and driving home, I realised that in life, we cannot ignore the fact that there are people who literally eat in a very narrow life. We breath the same air, were created in the image of God but some live in Dogs life. Just imagine if I was a paedophile (I am sure I will never be!!) and I was with that little girl in my car? What of if I was a rapist and the young girl was at my mercy? Supposing I was a serial killer and the young helpless girl was in sight? For a moment imagine that that young girl was your own daughter. Worse still, imagine her mother was your mother who could not be able to seek medical treatment and mental illness was eating her away? Would you care? Is there hope for such people? Definitely yes!


The best the mum to the girl could do was to start her life afresh and move on. If someone leaves you, he is not a God. Maybe God can only bless you if someone is no longer connected with your life. It could be your business partner, let him go and God will give you some anointing that that has never been experienced. God will never forsake you but for you to succeed, you must change your attitude. It is our attitude which almost always determines our altitude.


Next year 2012 is coming. You risk remaining in the same position until thy kingdom come if you go to the New Year with the same attitude. You must shake off your mediocrity, your jealousy, low self-esteem and self-limiting beliefs. You need to roll with friends you can learn from. Tell you what; your life will be the average of the five people who you deal with every day. For example your income will be the average of your five friends you talk to more often. You must forgive so dont go to the next year with resentments. Your wife betrayed you, so what? She is not a God...move on. Your husband betrayed you so? You must find all reasons to forget and forgive otherwise your countdown of having cancer are imminent. More and more resentment will hit the most feminine parts and the result is cancer. You are a winner.


To cut the long story short, I used my connections and connected the little Farida to S.O.S. children homes. I believe she must be doing well. God will always send Angels to help you whether you are on the other side of the city or not. God is LOVE. MAY YOU HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR 2012. GOD BLESS YOU.

A Whisper from London (My most memorable Christmas season)

A Whisper from London (Your acres of diamonds)

November 22 2011 at 11:14 AM

Enemies of development always accuse me of writing so much about my late grandfather. They tell me that even if my grandfather was wealthy, that wealth was his not mine. They also tell me that those thirty nine breathing wives of his I talk about were his and I have no business talking about them. In that case I am going to try so much not to talk about my grandfather's wealth but please let me tell you about his goats, thousands of acres of land and thirty nine G-string wearers (I doubt whether they had any to cover that secret vital part of the anatomy leave alone a G-string which covers 0.00001% of the 'XYZ'). To you my late grandfather, rest in peace because you are not for sale. Respect to maximum!

Instead of telling you about my grandfather, let me tell you about a man called Dr. Russell Herman Conwell. He was born on 15th of February 1843 in South Worthington, Massachusetts, U.S.A. and died in 1925 at the age of 82 years. Note that he had no relationship with my grandfather and they never knew one another. Russell Conwell was a newspaper editor, a lawyer and a clergyman in the course of his life while my grandfather considered himself as the ruler of all men dead and living, controller of all livestock and good harvests especially millet. He used to tell his subjects that he could read their mind and that he had gift of prophesy. For example, he could prophesy that your ox would die if you did not give it water immediately while facing the mountain. If that is what we call prophesy, then we are all prophets! Tell your neighbour that you can prophesy I can prophesy!

One day a group of young poor men approached Russell Herman and kindly requested him to assist them in paying their college education. He told them to give him some few days to think about it. After careful thought he was touched by the plight of those poor men who had thirst for education but could not afford. He had to do something and he thought of a way of raising money for those poor men. He decided to visit many places all over United States and tell of a story called, 'Acres of diamonds'. The story goes like this:-

An African farmer heard that other farmers were leaving for faraway lands to go and search for diamonds. Diamonds were fetching very good prices and the farmer convinced himself that he had to go and search for the diamonds also, just like other farmers. He sold his peace of land so as to get enough money to use when searching for the diamonds. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side for he never managed to get any diamond even after selling his land. He was very disappointed and he ultimately threw himself in the river and drowned.

The new owner of the purchased land was walking along the stream when he suddenly saw a very blight sparkling stone on the bend of the river. He took it home thinking that it was just another stone with some shining particles. A visitor happened to see it and he had a closer look and in amazement asked his host whether he knew what that stone was. The host said that he had no idea, that as far as was concerned, it was just another stone from the river. He explained to him that the stone was the biggest diamond stone ever discovered in the entire African continent! News of the new found diamond went across the land like wild fire. It was finally discovered that the new owner of the land owned clean three acres of diamonds in his land. There has never been such discovery in the whole continent. The new owner became extremely wealthy and the rest is history.

Think about it, the first farmer sold his farm which was full of diamonds for practically nothing so that he can go elsewhere and look for diamonds. Just imagine if he could have been more patient and he tried to discover what was in his land. He could have been very wealthy. He lost great wealth that surrounded him and also his life!

The opportunities are all around us only that they cannot speak. If you are of sound mind, you are already very rich if you put your ears on the ground and have your eyes open. Your mind is the richest natural resource that you have only that nobody has ever told you that. You also have never asked yourself why you are always struggling even when you are in the sea of opportunities. Napoleon Hill was requested by Andrew Carnegie to do research on why some people were very rich while others were very poor. His conclusion was that the difference comes about because of the way both parties think. The rich are always very positive that the world is full of abundance while the poor have scarcity mentality. It does not matter how educated or good your background is, there is something for you in this world. There is more than enough if only you take your time to explore within yourself and discover what makes you live in limitation.

To cut the long story short, money came pouring in after Dr. Russell Herman gave the speech on Acres of diamonds. He became the founder of Temple University which today has thousands of students and staff.  You will be doing yourself a lot of injustice if you have the same poverty mentality even today. If you still think you are inferior, then you have got a lot of work to do within yourself. How about buying books or listening to CDS or DVDS on building confidence. Without confidence you will not go very far in life. You will find that we are approaching December and you are still revolving around a circle when other people are a thousand miles away. In you there is a God given mind which is free. You can use it to create wealth and live in abundance. Likewise, you can use your mind to have limiting believes and you live in poverty until thy kingdom come. In this case your acres of diamonds is your own mind which within you.

What kind of friends are you rolling with? I repeat that if you are the smartest person among your friends, then you are in the wrong group. You need to be with people who are smarter than you so that you can learn from them. What of those friends of yours who deflate you all the time? Simple dump them! You need to be with people who encourage you not those who discourage you. Every person has an issue that makes him or her cry in the privacy of his bedroom. You need someone to tell you that its possible and God is with you all the way. Tell you what; you only need one toxic person to destroy you. This is the time to delete that number of that imbecile before you are in the statistics of those people who are mentally ill. For how long are you going to correct their mistakes? You are not a licensed therapist so if they have a problem, refer them to specialists. Life is too precious to live correcting peoples mistakes. You cannot acquire your acres of diamonds with people who are always pulling you down. They don’t dream like you so just watch them from a distance as you enter the Promised Land with acres of diamonds.

God is faithful and he has given you a good husband or wife. From time immemorial, you two have been living like Hutus and Tutsi in the twentieth century. In fact you two do not qualify to be called husband and wife but flat mates. You share rent and bills alright but you don’t invest together. You don’t have a future together except some children who are more concerned with life of celebrities than their future. You don’t like seeing one another and you feel like vomiting when you think of him or her. You have more together than what divides you. You can both move mountains where you will find acres and acres of diamonds. As a man, you don’t have to find another woman and as a woman you don’t have to fancy another man. All women have the same subject matter and all men are the same (?!). Your spouse cannot be like you so you have to tolerate one another. You came with your weaknesses and the other person came with his and so do not try to make the other person your second edition. Given the right support, your husband is a world champion and possibly money making machine but if you are always nagging him, he cannot stretch his imagination and be the powerhouse that he was meant to be. On the other hand, your wife is a gem if only she is appreciated and has been given freedom to use her mind properly. You are like headmaster to her, no jokes; you are not only boring but also very controlling. How then do you expect her to be your acres of diamonds?

The children that you have are acres of diamonds in disguise. Look at their life twenty years from now and see international men and women. The only problem is that they cannot realise their full potential if you don’t help them. They need your guidance and your presence. As a man you need to do research and lead in your field so that they can have a good role model. You must know where to put the line in being a father or their friend. Tell them about positive thinking, let them have confidence and let them know that they can count on you in the time of need. Your parents made mistakes and you also are making mistakes and you are passing the same mistakes to your kids. Your children are not members of any library because you believe that libraries are for Asian children. No wonder our children are involved in all manners of crimes. Let us talk to our children and tell them that they can revolutionise the future. Before you think of that separation or divorce, please consider the lives of those kids. Its not too late to talk and mend your differences and become one happy family. You woman, stop your arrogance and treat your man like a man not trash. You can only attract what you respect and if you don’t respect your man, you don’t respect God

Are you aware that your enemies could also be a fertile ground to find acres of diamonds? You cannot run not unless you are chased and so you always want to prove to your enemies that you have moved on and that your enemy was the one who was holding back your blessings. As you look at your fat bank balance, look up in the sky and tell God thank you for bringing your enemies in your life. If it were not for your enemies, possibly you could not have spread your wings and looked for opportunities all around you.

It does not matter what your background is. You were born a winner and there are so many opportunities around us. We have all the information that we need in twenty first century and so our duty is to look at what we can do with that information. I believe that money is like water in the ocean and we cannot finish it. Do not be discouraged by your present state because no situation is permanent. When God decides to bless you, blessing will follow you and even overtake you. I have no doubt that I was personally born to flourish, what about you? Open your eyes and see all those acres of diamonds at your feet.

A Whisper from London (Before you judge someone...)

October 31 2011 at 3:48 PM

****No punctuations for reasons that I don't know. Enjoy reading****


What I know about you is that if you are reading this article, you are not a miracle baby. I know nothing about miracle babies or how they are formed especially their fathers' DNA. What I am sure of is that you have feelings like any other person because you are made of fresh and blood. When talking about feelings, I am referring to the situations when you are very happy and when you are very angry. Your happiness or anger is brought about by people around you. They can come in form of friends, relatives, spouses, workmates or any other living creatures who walk on two legs and can eat a whole head of a goat and its intestines plus a mountain of ugali plus 'ugali sosa' and still talk of starvation thirty minutes later.

There are some people who are so good, so good that you would want to spend hours and hours with them. They will entertain you, make you laugh and advice you on how you can move from point A to point B in life. To you these are Angels sent by God. On the other hand there are people you would want to spend the least time. These are the people who are always looking for your downfall. For example, when most of us came to the west to better our living, there are others who came here to backstab others. They will find every opportunity to tarnish your name. The moment they open their mouths, they will talk and talk and talk and their talk is cheap and mediocre. They are 'vomiting' all what they learnt at Kajinga high school in Ujinga Mwingi District many years ago. These people are irritating, they are stupid and the best thing is to avoid them at all costs. Wait a minute, before you find them irritating and stupid...have you ever tried to understand why they behave that way? Have you ever walked their walk? Let us reason together but before then, a short story.

I have been spending sometime in one of the places where I get my daily bread here in the UK. It is in a lonely village away from the hustle and Basle of the city and I find the people very friendly and outgoing. I always feel that I have created a rapport with them and when with them, I feel like I am in Heaven. They always ask me about life in Africa and I tell them very many stories about that famous continent. May I confess that most of what I tell them is just fiction but they find it very amusing and they cannot wait another day to see me and hear my stories. I am an apple of their eyes and they love me to death. I hate boredom with passion because I know that life is not a rehearsal.

Much as most of them like me, there is one man among those villagers who is very different. Very different in the sense that he has never talked to me. When others are laughing, he is left staring at me as if my genitals are permanently located on my face. He is very tall and he wears thick glasses. His wrinkled face tells that he has seen many decades come and go. Before sunset, he will slowly walk his two scaring dogs in a foot path next to my place. Never in my life have I ever seen such big dogs. They are a male and female and they have black and white spots and they are too scaring to watch. The strange thing is that when their owner is staring at me, they are also staring at me and they are the size of calves. I guess that they hate me just as their master hates me. Think for a moment if they ask their owner to let them demonstrate their hatred on me.

The other day the same old man was walking his dogs and just as he was to join the main road, I saw his wallet drop from his trouser pocket. I tried to whistle at him to attract his attention so that he would collect his wallet but on seeing that the whistle was coming from my mouth, he turned, looked at me, shook his head and moved on. Once he was out of vicinity, I went and collected his wallet because I knew he would return. In about one hour, he returned and I waved the wallet at him. He opened his eyes wide and said a big THANK YOU. He looked at me with admiration and we started a conversation there and then:-

Thank you Sir. God knows what could have happened if someone else took the wallet. You are very different from your people... he said.
What people? I asked him as I wondered what he was talking about.
You people from south America!

South America?! I come from Africa not South America! I answered.
Oh, sorry I associate every black man with South America. I guess that is my mistake, you have got to excuse me, he said.

You seem to have a grudge with South American people...Am I right?
Not a grudge but I hate them with passion, especially men. If it were not for those men, my life would be complete. I am like this because of those men... he said as I saw him bite his lips and move his eyes from side to side.

I smell a rat that you have a story to tell...why all this bitterness? I asked him. He adjusted his thick glasses and bit his lips more and more. He adjusted his walking stick and wiped away some tears from his eyes. He started talking first with a stammer as his body started shaking somehow.

Listen here young man. I am now seventy five years old and there is nothing more that is remaining for me in this world. I served in the Second World War so when I go to the grave, I will have served the nation, he said.

Oh congratulations! You should be walking with your head held high. You are only seventy five not ninety five! You have many more years to go! I assured him.

I have been diagnosed with bone marrow cancer and the doctor has given me three years to live. My prayer is that I live to see my children and grand children and be eighty years. I have two children, one girl and one boy with five grand-children. My daughter lives in Los Angeles and the last time I saw her was twenty years ago. I only know her children through the photos that they she sends me. My son lives in Orlando, Florida with his Jamaican partner. All what I know is that his partner and him have been madly in love with one another. I can understand why my daughter is with her husband but why my son decided to go for a male from Jamaica is still a puzzle to me. I could have wanted to see him in a straight relationship but... he said as he wiped more and more tears from his thin wrinkled face.

Sorry for that sir, this must be very painful for you, I told him to assure him.

The husband to my daughter is a son-in-law from hell. To say that I hate him is an understatement. When I broke the news to them that I had been diagnosed with cancer, the boy just laughed and asked me to take his greetings to his ancestors in the other world! From that day, I stopped being Dave the father to his wife but WRONG NUMBER. On asking him why he nicknamed me Wrong Number he told me that I am just a heartbeat away from the grave so I cannot be counted as a human being especially at my advanced age. Another thing, he is physically abusive to my daughter and children. I have tried to talk to my daughter to come out of that relationship but she tells me that I cannot understand, that true loves knows no bounds...once black never white...whatever that means!.

You see, I am now in my sunset years with cancer creating a road to death. I can die any time. I feel very old, ugly and unwanted in the society. My own children have disowned me and I lost my wife ten years ago. Now what is there to rejoice? I am very bitter person. Let my children be by my side when I am in my deathbed but where are they? Those Caribbean husbands cannot allow my own fresh and blood come and see me? Why me? Why, why? Why?

The best thing I could do to him was to inform him that there have been cases where cancer has been treated through the use of ones own mind and he could do that. I also told him that he could not live his children’s lives and he should make the best out each and every day he was alive. We talked for about thirty minutes and he was very happy and he felt rejuvenated. When he left me, he was smiling and I saw him square his shoulders and walk in confidence. The next day was even better; he was now laughing and telling about his life in the army. We became great friends and he is now in the circle of my friends.

Don’t be too quick to dismiss people as bad. Stop prejudice (pre-judging) people. There are no bad people if only you can understand them. What I know is that everybody has got something that pains him or her. Someone could be sick somewhere, his kid is in hospital, his mother is having a terminal disease, she has realised that the husband has been having an affair, his wife has been having an affair, he has just lost his job, she has had a miscarriage...the list is endless. Treat people with respect and dignity. We all like to be appreciated and loved. Forgive that person who wronged you and spread your wings like an Eagle and fly away. Life is too short to live in sorrow and judging others. One law of success is called- law of pure potentiality where you dont judge anything as good or bad. Do you know why you are not successful...because you judge people. Before you judge, walk their walk.

I am not implying that you tolerate every nobodys weakness. For example, you can find that your friend talks too much and he cannot be trusted with anything confidential. What you do is that you tell your friend that he is an insatiable chatterbox and nobody can trust him. It is now for your friend to such within himself or herself and transform the character. You were not created to solve some problems and there are people you will never change. Do your part and lead your life but before you consider someone as a devil, try to understand where he is coming from. You will be shocked by what that person has gone through to behave that way. Create peace within yourself and let the people around you be comfortable with you. Spread messages of peace, love and unity and blessings will come to you and even spill over.

A Whisper from London (You are behaving like a rat...watch out!)

October 13 2011 at 2:32 PM

If you think that I am going to start by explaining what a rat is, you are in for a surprise because I am not going to do that. I am assuming that you know what a rat is. If you think that a rat is a grain of wheat or a pint of Tusker baridi, you are free to do that. Be my guest.

You don't need to be a rocket scientist to kill a whole army of mice. All what you need is to have a trap and a small grain of maize. Just put the grain at a strategic place in the trap and the trap will close in a split second when the rat tries to enter to eat the grain. The rat will cry and cry in pain as it tries to free itself from the trap. Finally, it will be killed. When all this is happening, the rat's children and all relatives are all there witnessing the painful killing of one of their own. You would expect them to learn something from that but do they? The next day the same trap which killed their relative is still there. Another rat will try to eat the grain not realising that the trap is hanging over his neck ready to kill him. No sooner will he try to eat the grain than the trap will close and kill him instantly. The next day will be the same, another rat will be killed. Sooner or later the whole clan is wiped out. If only there is only one wise rat to tell them that the trap is a killing machine and they should avoid it by all means, they would all survive.

We are humans who have been equipped with knowledge and we sometimes behave like rats. We can all see the danger that we put ourselves into and we still walk into the danger zone with no care in the world. Sample this:-

Since you were born, you have always seen your father being violent and abusive to your mum. Rumours have it that even your grandparents were just like that and so violence runs in the family. People associate your family with violence because even your great-great grandfathers were violent. You got married ages ago and your wife and children do not know any peace. You create so much tension in your house that your wife and children are happy when you are away. Instead of looking at your family history and break the cycle of violence, you are so much into it. You cannot learn from the pain that you went through as a kid. Why cant you say that enough is enough and there will never be any violence from your generation and beyond? Why cant you try to create a little Heaven in your house where all of us can learn? You have jumped from this relationship to another because no woman can stand you yet you have never learned anything. It is a shame to be a product of brocken marriage and you also become the cause of your marriage breakup. You are killing a generation because you have created a lot of fear in your children and this fear will never make them realise their full potential. The world has so much to offer but if your children are even afraid of even their own shadows, they will not go very far in life. It will take a miracle for them to have a new mindset and tap the abundance of the universe. My brodah woh God be with you.

You are a woman and you know very well that your grandmother and your mother are known for disrespecting their husbands and so they never attracted decent men in their lifetime. You saw how your mum was mistreating your dad and how your family was destroyed by your mums bad attitude. To her, the only best man was the one was buried six feet under the ground. You are now living in twenty first century and you still have the same attitude your mum had. You have no respect for men and so, like your mum, you have never attracted a self respecting gentleman. Being in the west has massaged your ego so much that you have no time for any man. You cannot distinguish between a housefly and a man. God be with you my sister woh! You are destroying your family by behaving like a rat. Wake up and change your attitude before the ground shifts beneath you.

If you have a black boy child in school, it is time to open your eyes wide and follow the progress of your kid. Our boys are known for knife crimes and all manner of hooliganism. We are to blame because we are not there as their role models. We dont take time to talk to them and so whatever they do is what they think is best for them. Switch off that Television for a moment and talk to your kids. There is so much going on in our children that if we neglect them, we are the ones to blame. Dont tell your kids not to smoke when they are seeing you smoking. Stop telling them that alcohol is bad when you yourself is drinking cans and cans of Budweiser or Stella Artois in the morning on Saturday morning. By the way, your grandfather died of alcohol related disease and so was your father. Are you sure that you never learned anything? What of that brother of yours who died of lung cancer because of smoking all his life? It is about time you said enough is enough and those deaths in the family taught you a lesson. Talk to your children about the dangers of smoking and heavy drinking. Tell them stories false or true about the effects of smoking and drinking. You have a brain of a human not that of a rat so dont be stupid in your life.

Last year but one, we came to the funeral of your brother who died of aids and even last year, there was death in your family and aids was the cause. You have multiple sex partners and there is a very high probability that some are H.I.V. positive. When having sex with them, do you use protection? Do you care to ask them to show you their latest medical results or it is just get onto your marks, set and gooooooooooooooo....? God be with you. Just know that the moment that sex partner opens her legs for you, you are signing a death warrant. Soon we will come to your funeral service to see you for the final time in this world. For a moment visualise your wife, children, family and friends all wearing black with their eyes full of tears. It was Gods intention that you live for many years with your family but because your appetite for sex was explosive, it never came to pass. Can you see your children living without their mum or dad moving from one foster parent to the other? Are you so blind that you cannot see the danger around you? Do you have brain of a rat? If not, then shame on you.

Look at the history of relationships that you always find yourself into. My question is, do your relationships add value to your life? Are they nursing or toxic relationships? How comes you always attract people in your life whose integrity is questionable? What is missing in your character? As a kid you were always criticised and this made you grow with very low self esteem. You have no confidence. What are you doing about your lack of confidence? Are you a member of any library? Do you visit any bookshop in your area and read books about regaining your confidence? Are you taught anything about confidence in the church that you attend or it is just singing from morning to midnight and rebuking the devil? If you are in the west and you lack confidence, there is something wrong with you. There are so many books and resources.

Back to relationships, big question in the group that you call friends of the inner circle, are you the smartest? If the answer is yes, then you are in the wrong group. You need to be with people who can challenge you not people who are bootlickers. When in the wrong group you will just be revolving in a circle by not making any progress in life. You are not a rat so choose your friends wisely.

There are some relatives who are also toxic. You are in west where we live in abundance but to them you are in competition with them. These are the people to spend the most minimum time with. For years and years your relatives have been leaving a trail of destruction any time they come in your life. Why dont you just leave them alone? Dont visit them and dont even call them. When you meet, talk about weather and how there is a lot of snow on top of Mount Kilimanjaro. Ask God to provide you with good friends whose integrity is beyond reproach. God is faithful and he will do exactly that.

It is Martin Luther King Jnr who said that if a country or civilization continues to produce soft-minded men, then they are purchasing death in instalments. If you find yourself saying yes, yes, yes to each and every nobody, then you are in danger. This world has no place for soft people. We are like animals in the wilderness. When some animals are very busy eating grass, there are others like lions that are busy scheming to kill the others. It is time to put our ears on the ground and feel the vibrations and look up when there is too much heat. Albert Einstein once said that if he was given eight hours to cut a tree, he would spend four hours sharpening the axe. Why am I saying this?

A Whisper from London (When all hope is gone...)

September 1 2011 at 5:22 PM

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where life has had no meaning? You look back and wonder why you are in that situation when you could be enjoying life just like anybody else? Have you ever done something in good faith and that something turns back against you and it became a nightmare? You could have been in a relationship and at first you felt like you were walking on the moon because there was so much love in your veins. With time the relationship hit the rocks and you wondered why God had to connect you with a devil in disguise? Could you have been a business relationship with a partner? At first sky was the limit but with time you realised that the so called partner had other demonic ideas that were geared to put you in poverty until Jesus came back? In all these situations you felt like a failure. My question is- did you really fail? The answer is a big NO! Why? Because that person who caused you heartache made you see life in another perspective and not unless you are a miracle baby, you will never involve yourself with such a person again. You will never engage yourself in a business relationship with a person of such weird character. You were born a winner. With the right attitude, you should only see failure as feedback and fly like an Eagle. My message to you is that you should never give up even when all hope is gone.

There are times when you feel that all hope is gone because you are made of fresh and blood. Perhaps I should share a story with you on when my hope was all gone... Sit back and read on:-

I have told you many times that I was not born in the city like most of you. I was born in the village where arrow roots and cassava grew in plenty. In the village our only connection with the city of many lights was our fathers who used to live and work there. It did not matter whether once in the city they lived in a hole in the ground or by the roadside...so long as they were coming to visit their families at the end of the month with big big breads, everything else was secondary. Our fathers were our heroes because they could tell us about life in the city, how it was good and how people were clean and educated. We could all gather by the fireplace and listen to them as they narrated their experiences. I know and I believe, beyond any reasonable doubt that some stories were fake but all in all we enjoyed listening. For example a neighbour 'father' would join my father in telling us how he was left out when other work colleagues were going to Mombasa. The story goes that they were to fly from the airport and they were to make a two hour flight and stay in Mombasa for two weeks. Listen to him:-

'Father of ManMan, listen here. Can you remember when these people wanted to leave me out when they were going to Mombasa? Do you remember? My survival instincts are sharp and so on hearing this, I went straight to the airport and when the pilot who is my friend saw me, he stopped the plane mid air and landed on the tarmac...just for me...Heh...heh...heh...you could have seen the jealousy that was with my colleagues once in the plane!'

The truth of the matter was that the father in question was a tea boy in the Company he was working for. Secondly, you don't just jump in the plane like a bus...?! He was just justifying why he failed to come last Christmas...he was in Mombasa in his capacity as a worker. The following day his wife will be telling each and everybody how people are jealous of his husband but he is so powerful that he can tell the pilot to land the plane and he does! Woh! If the father was an honest man, he would politely tell us that he had a mistress at 'Ngomongo' or 'Kiamaiko' who also was a woman who needed to 'cry blue-murder' at a certain time at night when all children were asleep. That was as far as the story would go anyway...

Once in a while, we used to visit our dads in the city during holidays. This is something we really enjoyed and we looked forward for. One of the prerequisites of visiting your dad in the city was that you had to have good grades in school. This made us work hard, burn midnight oil in a bid to find ourselves in the city of many lights. If one topped in his class, he automatically qualified to spend a good part of the holiday in the city.
 

One time, lady luck smiled at me and I found myself in the city with my dad. It was my first time to be in the city and it was my best time on earth. Once he was with me, he could also take a holiday to show me around. We would visit national park, Railway station, Museum, Snake Park and the airport. I thoroughly enjoyed being at the waving base. I could imagine myself in the plane coming from abroad and people lining up to greet me. I could feel the dollars, the pounds or any other currency that was of value in my pocket on arrival. Also I could smell the good clothes in my travelling bags. How I wished it would happen one day. I have come to realise that when you wish for something and it is of good report, it has to come to pass. There must be some principles in the universe which make our dreams come to reality. I have lost count of the times I have travelled by plane.

Much as I liked the city, my father warned me that I should be very careful with who I interacted with. For example, just across our estate as one crossed a mighty river, there was a very big slum. The mud houses were built so closely together that from a distance, they looked like brown maggots. The two estates were connected by a bridge but the contrast of the two estates was too real for a naked eye.

My father was fond of telling us that if we would not take education seriously, we would end up living in the slum adjacent to where he lived. This was the most scaring thing to imagine. We were walking along with him near the bridge when we saw many people gathered on the other side of the bridge. As we approached them, I could see that something was wrong. A middle aged person had been killed and his eyes were missing as well as his tongue. He was naked and so all of us could see that his private parts were also missing. I had never seen a dead person in my life and so I could not believe what I was seeing. All what my dad was telling me sank in. I could not believe that another human being could do such a thing to a fellow human being. This episode left a very big psychological scar in my mind because even today, I still remember as if it was yesterday.
 

Of course I grew up and after so many years, I got a job and found myself living in the same estate that my father used to live. The irony of the matter was that I had to pass that demonic bridge every day when I was going to and from work. My heart could skip a beat every time my car passed the bridge especially at night.
 

Friday night was and will still remain the best night to every man with some few legal tenders to spend. If any man owned a car, he did not need to worry when in the swallowing joint because as we said, however drank you were, your car knows your home and it will take you there. On Friday evening, beer tasted even better after midnight and the wives did not care what time one arrived so long as one arrived safely.

It happened one Friday evening that I was having drinks with friends and we were busy telling each that we had long crossed the valley of poverty. Nyama choma and kachumbari were there in plenty and we were having a real good time. We were four of us and we all lived in different parts of the city. I told my friends not to worry about how they would go home because I owned a car and only a person with a challenging behaviour could tell me otherwise. We drank beer after beer until it was 2 A.M. in the morning and it was time to go home. Being the only car owner, I had three drank men and I had to take all of them to their respective homes. By the time I took the last person, it was around 4 A.M.

It was now my turn to go home drank as I was. I followed my usual route but I made one mistake I had forgotten to put more fuel in my car. Just as I was approaching the demonic bridge, my car STOPPED! Yes it STOPPED at that hour, at that point dangerous as it was! I cannot remember how all my drunkenness disappeared in a split second! I can inform everyone that I was almost shi**ing on myself when I remembered where I was. They say that there is nothing certain like death and taxes and here I was staring at death any moment.
 

I gained courage and decided to push the car by myself. Dont forget that the day before was a Friday evening and I am dressed to kill in a well cut three-piece suit and shiny shoes that appertains to a young working class gentleman. For some few minutes, I was just alone and the night was deadly quiet. There were no street lights and if there was, then they had gone to visit their in-laws at that god-forsaken demonic hour! I tried to push my car but if I made two steps ahead, the next minute I made four steps back. God have mercy. I said a silent prayer in my subconscious mind for God to take all Wakoras away from me. Suddenly, from a distance, I saw two people appear from a small bush nearby. I thought of abandoning my car and run as fast as my legs could carry me so I looked back to prepare my flight. As I made the first step to run away in darkness, some other two towering figures appeared in my direction and so I was sandwiched between four men. They did not look to be in a hurry, after all I was just alone and one blow would dispatch me to the next world. They would then dismantle my car and take all my possessions.

I still managed to try to run but the men on the opposite direction got hold of me and knocked me down. I tried to be friends with them and even offered them money. In my coat pocket, I had about four thousand shillings. I even removed the money and tried to give to the most aggressive man in the group. He refused. I tried to give to another one and he also refused. I was totally confused. I politely asked them what they wanted and they informed me that they were just on a mission to kill and they will cut me into pieces and throw those pieces in the river. Now this was a matter of life and death. I tried to free myself; in any case my chances of survival were very slim. At one time I freed myself and tried to run away but they caught up with me.

At this particular time, I remembered that there is God somewhere and I said a silent a silent prayer and asked God to interfere.
God, if there is a time I needed you, this is the time, come to my rescue, was my prayer. I forgot that I was in danger and started communicating with God as if I was making a telephone call to God and God was on the other side listening.

I dont know exactly what happened but as I was in that mood of prayer with all the thugs mocking me, a car came and stopped exactly where we were. It was a police car in unmarked registration. All the thugs left me and ran away as fast as they could! The police came out and they were holding pistols thinking that I was also a thug. I told them the whole story and they were very sorry for me. They even towed my car to my house for free. I have never seen such a miracle in my life.

When all hope is gone, turn to God for he will never forsake you. Whatever happened that night was through the hand of God. There is some infinite intelligence that governs our lives. What would make the police car pass where I was just when I was in danger? Did God send his Angels at that particular time? Yes! Whatever problems you could be going through, turn to God for he has an answer to every problem. Another thing, sometimes we bring problems to ourselves. By imagining everyday that something will happen to me on that bridge, I was harnessing the forces of nature to make it a reality and it became a reality. Take care of what you put in your mind because thoughts become things.

A Whisper from London (A Father from hell)

July 5 2011 at 5:01 PM

**Note that there are no punctuation marks. I have no idea why they do not appear

I am told that when one is some few minutes away from being past tense, so many things happen at that time. Ghosts from all hills and valleys converge and start asking the dying person so many questions. One of the questions is why the person has decided to die leaving other people enjoying 'kanywaji' or 'Nyamachoma' or anything that is interesting to a man of taste. Another question comes from the ghosts of talents. There is something in this world that only you alone can do because you are talented. The ghosts of talents will give you a very hard time. They will want to know why you never utilised the talent and you are just about to kick the bucket. You will then die and you will not resurrect on the third day but you will be in the statistics of new kid on the block in Lucifer's kingdom.

May I open the lid and inform you that there are other ghosts which are more serious than those of talents. These are the ghosts of motherhood and fatherhood. If God has blessed you with children, you owe them a duty of care. There are some parents who know more of Man U, Chelsea, Arsenal, Real Madrid or Barcelona players more than they know about the lives of their children. To some the world starts with football and ends with football. I am not implying that football is bad but it is commonsense that childrens welfare should come first. Feed your children first before you tell us about Wayne Rooney or Murinho. If you never took care of your children, the ghosts of parenthood will mock you and tell you that even donkeys dont struggle to impregnate other donkeys.

I personally would hate to argue with the ghosts of writing and so I will write until my eyelids close in death. I will strive to be the best father by doing the best for my children. I will read every biography of famous and men of integrity, watch every DVD, listen to any CD to be a better father. I will watch every programme that can make me use my mind better and take me from point A to point B. I am ready to fight anybody who will make my children not realise their full potential. I will shout from the rooftops, bang tables to express my childrens rights. For those of you who neglect and torture children, I am ready to put your file in a very high shelf and I will deal ruthlessly with you. I believe that I am also a father to the mother of my children and so I will always guard her jealously.

I was born a story teller so let us have look at this:-
I received a call the other day from one of my long time friends. At first I could not figure out who the real caller was because it has been decades ago since I last saw my friend.

Hallo, Hallo...Hallo...is that ManMan? Asked the caller.
Yeah...this is ManMan. Who is calling? I asked.
ManMan you cant be serious! You cant remember Lorenzia? I asked, still not having a clue on who the hell Lorenzia was.
Remember Lorenzia Venanzio.?

Well...well ...Lorenzia Venanzio...I cant remember such a name!
If you cannot remember Lorenzia Venanzio, you can remember my father Mr. Mbenethio?.
Before I answered him, I remembered Mr. Mbenethio who was the father to Lorenzia Venanzio. The name Mbenethio is the corrupt version of Venanzio. I also remembered Lorenzia. We were in the same primary school and Lorenzia was a very jovial boy. Most of us remember Lorenzia as a boy who was very bright especially in mathematics. At the end of every term, he used to emerge top of the class. Being good in the world of academia coupled with his extremely handsome face made him a very popular boy with girls and he used to enjoy a lot. He was of light complexion with long curly hair just like his father Mr. Venanzio.

Everybody in the village was poor except Venanzio. He used to work as a driver with a well known Tour Company in the city. On his way to the famous Tourists hotels, he would drive to our school and ask to talk to his son. From the class windows, we would watch with envy as his Lorenzias father would give him nice toys, biscuits and money in an envelope to take to his mother. Both father and son were very close from the way they used to joke and laugh. Afterwards they could hug and the father would drive off.

It is good to note that we all feared our fathers like death. Our perception of a real father was someone who used to be served food first and one who would consume a lot of rice and vegetables while pointing with his finger to God knows what. A fathers word was final. Once in the homestead no one would talk before he talked. He was a symbol of fear and he was the only one who could make our motor-mouths mothers shut up. In this regard, they were our heroes.

As I was recollecting about Lorenzia Venanzio, the phone got disconnected. I assumed that he did not have enough credit so I decided to call back.
Hallo Lorenzia, sorry mate, I now remember you. Long time no see! How have you been? I said.

Very fine ManMan, I was given your number by the father of Wamukinyo. How is America? He asked.

Thanks for calling me, I am calling from London not America. Otherwise you are okay?
I am escorting my father today...he said.

Oh that is good mate. I am glad that you are together now. Does he still live in Moyale? I asked not knowing whether he had changed his place of residence. The last time I heard of him was when he was a businessman in Moyale.

Well, he used to live there but now he has changed his base...

Changed his base? I thought that that was a good place for him. I used to hear that he had bought a lot of property in Nairobi and Addis-Ababa,

No situation is permanent. Just know that he is no longer in Addis-Ababa, Moyale, Nairobi or whatever! What matters is the relationship that one had had with his loved ones!

Can I say Hallo to your dad Lorenzia; I hope he can remember me...
For the second time the phone went dead. I tried to call again and again with no success.
Soon my mind made a quick flashback on the live and times of my friend Lorenzia Venanzio, his father and his entire family.

Johns academic records continued to be very impressive day by day. Through his dads influence, he was ever confident. He could approach any girl, even the most beautiful from neighbouring schools. He could even engage a teacher in a long heated conversation on what he thought was wrong to his opinion. His arguments were intelligent to a kid of his age and this made teachers admire if not fear him for his grasp of human rights.

I have said before that Jamhuri as a country could earn good foreign exchange if some teachers in my primary school were exported as child abusers abroad. Looking back, I dont know what planet some teachers had come from. We were beaten like common criminals and this made us lose confidence. There was nothing like talking about positive thinking and that we were living in a world of abundance. Woo unto you if you were tall and your academic level was below average. You were assured of beatings, beatings, abuse, more beatings, combined beatings, physical punishments, beatings...name it! The only person who escaped those beatings was Lorenzia. Before beating him (which was rare!) the teacher had to explain to him why and whether he had committed murder. He could then ask the teacher to let him leave school there and then. Now that is where the teachers feared most. If by any chance Lorenzias father knew that a teacher was bullying his son, he would come smartly dressed and have a go at the teacher. He could shout loudly and hurl insults to the teacher. This was one way of intimidating him and showing the other teachers that his kid was special and he came before anything else. The teacher would then make peace with Lorenzia just because of the presence of his father. Who would hate to have such a protective dad? What a super dad Johns father was!

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Some two months before we did our final examinations, we noticed a very big transformation in the character of Lorenzia. The once vibrant young handsome boy soon became very quiet and very distant. He started being fearful of everything. We could see that he was struggling to concentrate. During break-time, he was not joining us to play. Life had suddenly lost any meaning. Something must have gone terribly wrong somewhere.

Unknown to us, Johns father had all of a sudden stopped coming home. In the city where he lived, he was madly in love with a lady work-colleague. He had stopped having any interest in his family and he was not even helping them financially. His mother had to do something to make ends meet. She started selling maize and beans in the market to support Lorenzia and his two sisters. Maize business was not doing well but at least she could break-even.

As we waited for our final results during the month of December, we all had to face the knife because we had now come to that age. It was customary to get moral and financial support from our fathers. Johns mother sent for his husband to come and at least witness his son becoming an adult and he ignored. He said he was not interested in anything, that even westerners live uncircumcised. One of Lorenzias uncles volunteered to help him thus saving his face.

The final Exam results came out. As expected, Lorenzia passed very well by scoring straight As. He was offered admission in one of the most prestigious national schools in the country. We all expected his father to change his attitude and help his son achieve his dream. This time Lorenzia had to travel to Nairobi and talk face to face with his dad.
He arrived in the city at around six in the evening one Saturday evening. He reached his fathers house one hour later. On seeing his own son, he started reprimanding him by asking him how he could come without informing him.

Dad, I thought you would first ask me about home and my performance, Said Lorenzia.
I dont care about home or your f***ing performance!
I had straight As and I am to join ...

So what? I dont care about anything! As far as I am concerned you are not my children!
Dad! We are not what!!!
You are not my children! Even your mother is a prostitute so you are all bastards!
I thought you created us!

Creating you...you...me I was just entertaining myself with your mother who is a whore...you are all one BIG MISTAKE!...f***ing bastards!

On hearing what his father had to say, Lorenzia cried and cried. He could not believe that those words were coming from his father who was his best friend and role model less than three years ago. He watched as his father prepared to go to a nearby bar some few hundred meters from the house. He never told him anything, never left him with any money to buy himself supper. Once his dad was out of site, he entered his bedroom and saw a photo of his dad and a young lady, young enough to be his daughter. They were kissing passionately as if the world was ending tomorrow. In the bathroom were lady panties of all colours. Most of them had a small writing written LOVE ME HONEY.
At around midnight, his dad returned with a young lady. Lorenzia could tell that she was the girlfriend to his dad. The girlfriend extended a wet-fish handshake as he headed to the bedroom. His dad followed. After one hour they were asleep but not before a thousand and one

mmmmm...aaahhh...Yes....yes...mmm..aaaahh...ge...gently...yah...Lo...lo...love me HO...HONEY! Mmmm....sssssssshhh...ahhh! And the night went on and on and on...Poor Lorenzia could not believe that his own dad could be that disrespectful and inconsiderate.

As expected, Lorenzia missed the chances of getting admission in the best school in the country. Since the mum could not afford school fees, he was enrolled in a mediocre day school in the village so as to continue with his education. He did his O level exams and he passed very well. In all these years, his father never bothered to come home and know about the welfare of his family.

When his family was languishing in poverty, Lorenzias father had long left formal employment and was now a successful businessman in Moyale where he had re-located. He was importing hides and skins from neighbouring Ethiopia and selling them to Nairobi at a good profit margin. His girlfriend and him were now living as husband and wife and had two children.

Many years went by and all of us lost touch with Mr. Venanzio. With time he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. With death being so real and sure to knock any time, he decided to connect with his first family which he neglected ages ago.

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I made a point of calling Lorenzia the following day so as to catch up with his life. He informed me that by escorting his father he meant that they were burying his father. He had left a will that all his children were to benefit from his estate. The amount in question was in millions of shillings.

No amount of money left by his dad would heal the psychological scars that Lorenzias father created in his young family. He could not rewind the time and put his son back to high school. Time was already gone. God had given him a chance to enjoy seeing his children grow, he never exploited the chance. He had all the time in this world to come and witness his son becoming a real man. He was not there. When Lorenzia went to the city to tell him about his passing, he insulted him, his real blood. It was now too late to say sorry, in any case he could not take back what he had said.

I am talking to you father of so and so. If there are children out there you helped to create and you dont help them, you are cursed. The moment they cry for you is the moment the curse starts operating on you. Do you know why you never have a breakthrough? Do you know why you are never happy? You are cursed by that kid in Africa you abandoned. Be with your children all through their lives. You are missing a lot because children are fun. Do me a favour, please take that phone and call that mother of your kids and kids. Say hallo to them, encourage them, and show them that you care. Dont be like Lorenzias father; be a SUPER DAD not A FATHER FROM HELL!

A Whisper from London (A Mother from hell)

(Please note the absence of punctuation marks in the reported speech in the story. I have put them when writing the article but for reasons unknown to me, they do not come out. Enjoy the story)

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I was not born with the coming of Ocampo and so I have seen different types of mothers. I grew up with the knowledge that anybody who was your mother's age was supposed to be regarded as a mother. One could not misbehave when another 'mother' was around because she had the right to discipline you. As if that was not enough, she could go on to tell your biological mother about your bad behaviour. Suddenly the two mothers would start caning you like you had committed murder. I would want to see that happen in England! God! We are what we are today mostly because of the discipline we got from our mothers. Hats off to you mothers out there. You are wonderful human beings and you are our Angels.

Much as I respect and love mothers, there is one mother who will forever remain in my mind for some reasons. To my opinion, she must have come from another planet. Read on:-
 

Jane was an ordinary village girl but with immense beauty. She was of dark complexion and rather tall with smiling eyes. Her hair was long and well kept. She had a specific way of walking like a model and this made other ladies of her age think that she was faking her walking style to attract handsome men. Many men loved her but she always turned them down making them feel disappointed and hate her.

It happened that when she was in her final year doing her O levels, a man from western Europe fell madly in love with her. The man was in a car with other tourists when their car broke down on their way to a world famous hotel some few miles from Janes home. The tourists were mesmerised by the beauty of the village-what with those beautiful hills, the valleys and their interlocking spars, the rivers...mention it! Just by coincidence, Jane was passing by on her way to the shops. One of the young male tourists started chatting with Jane and soon a long, long conversation followed. The car was eventually repaired and it was time for the tourists to go. We came to realise later that the tourist promised to visit Janes home before he jetted out to Europe.

It came to pass that Ron (young male tourist) was indeed madly in love with Jane. We were not used to seeing people holding hands and kissing passionately on the way but that was Jane and Rons way of life. Our grandmothers did not take it lightly when they saw a fully grown up people eating each others lips like donkeys about to mate.
 

To fast-track the story, Ron and Jane got married a year later. In the same year they were blessed with a bouncing baby girl named Pascal. As expected, the baby was of mixed race and very beautiful. Villagers used to call her Mathikware. Soon they relocated to Uganda where Ron was working as a civil Engineer with a well known construction Company. Once in a while, Jane and Ron plus their kid used to visit our village in a posh car. They built Janes parents a beautiful stone house. They also installed a generator to supply electricity. Electrification had not been done in the village and at night they whole village succumbed to an era of darkness. With electricity, Janes parents house looked like a bright star in a sea of darkness. Janes life plus that of the family had completely been transformed. They had all of a sudden crossed the valley of poverty and sky was the limit.
 

They say that birds of a feather flock together and that you cannot fly with Eagles if you are working with Turkies. Janes parents moved to the city of Kampala to live there. Soon we lost touch with them for many years. Yes, Eagles fly with Eagles not sparrows!
 

On the New Years Eve, I happened to be in Kampala and I was staying in one of the hotels in the city. I like talking to new people wherever I go and I have no problem engaging in long conversations. The trick of talking to strangers is making yourself as approachable as you can. Make yourself as ordinary as you can and empathise with them. Never talk so fast and avoid arguments if you want to good in communicator.

I dont know about you but once in Africa, I always ask God to lead me to a person who genuinely needs some help. Believe you me that when you give, whatever you give will come back in multiples. If you give money, God will bring an avalanche of money. If you create hatred, hatred will come back to you. If you send out love, the universe will make sure that everyone you come across will love you. Owing to lack of love signals in the family, most people will continue to have difficult relationships which will eventually lead to divorces. Life is supposed to be a Holiday. God have mercy.

I learned long time ago that I should take life easily and not to live as if tomorrow will never come. After one hundred years it will not matter what you are today. We will leave this world and other people will come and join it and so on and so on. Unlike some people in our midst, I always make sure that my presence in every situation will always create a positive energy.

Here I was in Kampala and I started having a chat with some cleaners. I learned from them that my one night accommodation in a double room was equivalent to their thirty days salary! Sometimes the world can be very cruel! One of the cleaners was a tall lady of mixed race by the name Pascal Ron. On asking her more about herself, she informed me that she was living with her sick mother, a brother and a sister in the outskirts of the city. On enquiring further about her family, she said that her father died when she was six years or thereabout. The dad was from Western Europe and an Engineer by profession and that he had later become wealthy by dealing in real estate in Kampala, Bujumbura, Kigali and Dar-es-Salaam. I did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that the Pascal Ron I was talking to was from my own village. I like being a good listener so I did not disclose my identity there and then though I was astonished. The world is very small.

Allow me to ask you Pascal, if your dad was that wealthy, what are you doing here cleaning other peoples bed sheets? I asked.
Ask my mother? She answered.
Ask your mother?! I asked in bewilderment.
You said that your father is dead

Yes
Tell me more, I asked in bated breath. Just take me through his death, what went wrong?
Ask my mother!
Meaning what?!

To tell you the truth, I am very bitter with my mother...sometimes I feel like giving up in life. I was destined to sour like an Eagle, have proper education, and go to best schools, have the best the world can give but my own mother spoilt all my dreams. My brother and sister are struggling like me. We live in slums...why, why, why?!!!

I am lost here Pascal, you said your father was had houses and buildings all over East Africa, what happened...he sold them?
No, he died just when he was at the pinnacle of his life and everything was left to my mother as his legally wedded wife. We were little children and we could not understand what was going on. All what I remember is that my father was cremated and that was his not his wish. After he died, I kept on asking my mother when our dad will come back and she would beat me to death. She never wanted to speak anything about his death. She even removed and burned all the photos they had been taken together. I have a feeling that there is more than the eyes can meet in my fathers death. Somebody somewhere knows something. The good thing is that the laws of nature will always balance and what goes round comes around!

I thought it was good for me to disclose my identity to her. I informed Pascal that I knew her from birth and I came from where her mother came from. She was very happy to know that she was not talking to a stranger. We agreed that since she was supposed to be working, we should meet after work and if possible, we could arrange how I would meet her other members of the family.

After five we were having coffee in one of the major hotels to the West of Kampala. Pascal was now very free with me. I was not a stranger anymore but an uncle from her mothers roots.

Pascal, sorry to hear what you have gone through. We all had had very high hopes on you and your family. How could something so good go so wrong? What happened on the way to Heaven?

ManMan, my mother put her boyfriend before our family. After my fathers death, my mother was head on hills with another man from Kisumu. He was now the one controlling my fathers estate. He was Machiavelli and very controlling. He cunningly advised my mother that they do a wedding and officially become man and wife so that he could squander my fathers wealth. With time he took a big loan from the bank and he refused to pay. Unknown to us, he had given our fathers property as security. We watched in horror as our property was auctioned. Even our family house was not spared. We were thrown out in the streets and that is how we ended up in the slums.

I could not believe my ears! Were these the same children who to our opinion were heading to the moon? Which mother cannot plan for her children lives? I looked at her again and again and asked myself what planet her mother had come from. I was curious to know what followed after they were thrown in the streets.

After we went to slums, we had nothing. My mother started drinking cheap traditional brews as escapism to the reality of life. She had been used to high life and life was just one blank piece of sheet. She lost interest in us especially me. My brother, my sister and I literally brought ourselves up and we were not even ten years. I will never forget how my mother came with a man old enough to be my father and asked me to escort him at midnight. I was terrified of my mum and so I woke up from the bed and the man held my hand. He directed me to a forest band raped me...As he forced himself into my small body; I experienced the pain I have never experienced in my life. Basically, I lost my virginity at the age of ten, thanks to my own biological mother! After he was through with me, he gave me twenty shillings which he told me to give to my mother. I struggled and found my way back home. Every step I made was making me feel as if a sharp knife was cutting my private parts. I narrated the whole ordeal to my mother and I found that she was concerned with the money I was given but not my situation.

I could not believe it! How on earth can a mother expose her kid to such danger? I asked myself. On looking at Pascals eyes, I tears swell on her face. Soon it was a flood of tears and she started to cry uncontrollably. What happened to the values of humanity? This was too much for me to hear.
Sorry for that, so how is your mum now? I asked with anger.

She is at home but very sick, she answered.
Pascal, I am a Christian and all what I can say is that I wish her a quick recovery,
ManMan, she will not recover. She is bedridden and the doctors have advised us not to do anything to her. She has constant diarrhoea and vomiting every now and then. More to that she has T.B. As we are talking she is just but dry bones. She might not see the end of this week,
Well she will forever remain your mother. May the will of God be done. At least you have your brother and sister left. All is not lost,

ManMan, May I open the lid and inform you that my sister and I are mixed race. Between my sister and I is a brother who is as black as charcoal, she said.
Meaning what?

Meaning that my mother was so faithful to my white father that when my father went to see her give birth to our second born, what he saw was a black, black baby boy. You can now do the maths...!

As I write this, the brother to Pascal is in jail because he is convicted with robbery with violence. He is sentenced to hang. The mother died even before I left Kampala. The sister is a housemaid somewhere in Nairobi.

Yes, we have a number of extremely good mothers out there. Let us not forget that some are so bad that they behave as if they come from another planet. How on earth do you abdicate your responsibility of bringing up your kids? How dare you abuse your kid and you gave birth to him or her? Why torture your kid, a human being who God has blessed you with? Before you jump up and down in your church rebuking the devil and greeting somebody and telling them that you love them, love your kids first. Question- what planet do you come from when your kid suffers because of your stupid actions? Shame on you hypocrites! Shame on you, you mothers from hell!
 

A Whisper from London (You are a sinner without knowing)

March 7 2011 at 9:09 PM

We have so many people who claim to talk directly to God about anything. I cannot comment on whether this is true or mere fantasy. Some will inform you that God has told them to tell you this and that or else you will be a permanent tenant in the lake of fire when you become past tense. We all hate fire and so the best we can do is to follow the advice even if we are told to eat a live teenage chameleon who has just been circumcised. What I know is that if God would want to talk to you, he will talk to you directly by making you undergo some experiences.

There is one man who we all know was communicating with God and he was the beloved husband of a beautiful lady called Tzipporah who was a daughter to a man they called Jethro. The man I am talking about was also a father to a young man called Gershom. For your information, one of his characteristic in personality was his stammer and bad temper.

In case you have no clue who I am talking about and you have ever lived in Dandosh, Buruu or Salem, you can call him 'Moseh'. If you were born and brought in the village where arrow roots grew in plenty, you can call him 'Muutha' or 'Musa'. His real name was Moses. He was born in Egypt at the time when the 'Mubarak' of that time decreed that all Hebrew baby boys should be killed at birth by drowning. God was with him because he was rescued by Pharaohs daughter when she saw her floating in river Nile in a basket. Exit many years and Moses saw an overseer mistreating a Hebrew and being a man with bad temper, he killed an Egyptian there and then at that defining moment.
 

To fast-track the story-Moses fled to a far country because the Pharaoh heard what he had done. In the course of his long life, he was given the Ten Commandments by God to give to the Israelites. On ascending from Mount Sinai where he had gone to communicate with God, he found people worshipping a golden calf. He was so angered that within a split second, he angrily threw the two tablets holding the Ten Commandments and they broke into pieces. We all know what the Ten Commandments are and if we do contrally to what they say we do, then we are committing a sin.
 

But in this life we are leading, you can commit a sin without ever knowing that you have committed a sin. You consider yourself a saint but to the general public, you are a sinner who will take very little effort to find a shortcut to hell.

One of the fastest ways of sinning without knowing is when you associate yourself with an idiot who believes that the world starts with him and ends with him. You can be a person of integrity and well respected in the society but once an idiot enters your life, all integrity is thrown out of the window. To him you are never right and there is a possibility that you were not born but hatched like a chicken. Worse still, to an idiot, your mother did not have normal labour pains when giving birth to you. What she did she was that she just raised one leg and then gave out a very big fart and suddenly you were born. What does the idiot want to achieve? He wants to tarnish your name so that the general public can start seeing you from another negative angle. Next time you are with people you consider friends and they start avoiding you, just know that your name has been tarnished. There is something they have been told and they dont trust you again. As a matter of fact, you have committed sins without knowing. You will realise very late that any time the idiot opens his mouth when with people; he is just talking about you. When other people came to the west to look for greener pastures, his mission was just to malign your name so that he can look a hero while you become a loser. Just know that even if you are a saint, people must talk about you in a negative way. The best thing is to cock your ears and ignore rubbish. The best way to treat an insult is to let it flow from this ear and come out of the other ear. Do not be very comfortable when you dont have enemies somewhere because life can be very boring. Accommodate some sins you have not committed but laugh them off.
 

Who are those people you consider as people of your inner circle? What secrets do you share with them? You must be a fool not to have secrets which you will go to the grave with. You dont have to share what you call secrets with everybody. For example when your friends come to your house, where else do you allow them to go apart from toilets? Do they even know how your bedrooms look like? Do they open your fridge as they want? Looking for what? Why not just ask? Are they those people who wait for their children to climb upstairs so that they can follow them to find them messing with your panties, Thongs and G-strings? Their mission is not to get their children but to know what you have bought of late. Give them a week and they will have told their friends what the colour your panties are. You will talk about Malnutrition and you will see people laughing. Why? They saw your fridge was empty and so hunger is a way of life in your house. Surely, if other people know all that mambo ya kindani what else is left for you? Dont be surprised to hear some people mocking your undergarments by saying that they are rocks of ages- that you wear some things that were worn by Zinjanthropus. Let there be a boundary where even friends of your inner circle cannot cross otherwise you will commit sins you are not even aware of to the general public.

You have been blessed with a business which is doing well and so congratulations. As you say thank you, remember you are sinning. People are very comfortable with you when you are on the same level but when you start making forward steps, you are committing a sin. Just the other day you were talking of working overtime and now you are asking people to work overtime for you. If you dont want to commit a sin, you better shut up. Keep your success to yourself and act normal. Anything you say is highly exaggerated and is always taken out of context to discredit your social standing. If you think you have been blessed and you are on another level, find friends who think like you because Eagles fly with Eagles not sparrows. Birds of a feather flock together. Man Man what are you trying to say? I am saying that if you have Gods favour act like you are blessed and highly favoured. Iko swali?

I often hear people talk of how their spouses change like chameleons. My friend Papa Ajasco (maximum respect!) tells me that he and his wife can bid each other goodbye with hugs and kisses in the morning but come night time when he comes back, he finds his wife being cold as ice. She has transformed from a jovial young woman to an angry monster who is breathing fire and brimstone. I have lived in this world for some few decades and I know for sure that the whole transformation is because of Papa Ajasco committing sins without his knowledge. Sample this:-

Papa Ajascos wife is pregnant and he wants Roiko and Blue Bird from Jamuhuri. There is a neighbour who has gone for holidays in Africa and he or she can bring those scarce commodities upon coming back. So what does Papa Ajascos wife do next? She calls her mother-in-law who is now Papa Ajascos mother. Listen to the conversation:-

Ajascos wife: Hallo is that mum? Ohh...good to hear your voice mum.
Mum-in-law: Is that my beautiful young daughter? You are so lost, how are the others?
Ajascos wife: They are very okay mum. Oh, mum, mum we miss you so much...

Mum-in-law: We also miss you so much, why can you not bring children to see me now that I am alive?
Ajascos wife: Mum, my mum...hey, hey, you make me laugh! We will come all of us.
Mum-in-law: Come all of you and you will eat arrow roots, cassava, sweet-potatoes...
Ajascos wife: Oh! You have said it. Jane is there from London; would you mind to give her Roiko and Blue Bird when she comes back?
Mum-in-law: Aah, no problem my little, beautiful daughter.

I am hoping that you are with me so far. For your information Papa Ajascos mum is aged. We dont know her age but she claims to have been circumcised in 1902 when there were so many locusts in the land. She is not very familiar with tapping the right key to end the conversation. Somewhere in London, Papa Ajascos wife has not ended the conversation and she can hear all what is happening on the other end. Mum-in-law has just entered the road leading to the market and she is talking to another woman of her age. She is calling her mother of Jathebu (read mother to Joseph). The conversation starts:
Mum-in-law: Mother of Jathebu, how are you?

Mama Jathebu: I am okay my friend. I saw you talking on the phone for a long time. Was the call from the devil?
Mum-in-law: Yes, yes it was from the devil...and I was dreaming last night that the devil with horns will appear today...and the devil would come in form of a woman.
Mama Jathebu: You mean you were talking to a woman demon...tell me more...

Mum-in-law: It is this prostitute that my son married. Since he married this imbecile he does not send me anything. Nothing, even a kilo of sugar! Know what Mama Jathebu, the devil is a provider. He provided my son with a devil of a wife. I am told that she has slept with every white man in that country. Now why could my son not come to Mama Sonko and she has his two kids? Why be associated with a devil. Now she wants me to send her Roiko and Blue bird...she thinks she is clever? She wants to bewitch my son that demon.

Mama Jathebu: You sound so bitter what did she do to you?
Mum-in-law: She is just a spendthrift...just using my sons money. Tell you what...even if she drops dead today, I will leave a curse that she will not be buried here. If I die and I find her in Heaven, I will walk out in protest! I have no friendship with a devil. I have no debt with the devil and the debt that was there was paid by Jesus Christ on the cross in Calvary.
 

After some time, the phone will get disconnected due to poor network in the village. Papa Ajascos wife has heard everything. She has also come to know that Papa Ajasco has children abroad where he was born and brought up.

Now visualise Papa Ajasco coming home after work and calling his wife sweetheart which is one of the most London (cursed) name. Can you see the reaction of his wife? Can you feel her pain? Has Papa Ajasco committed a sin without knowing? Absolutely!

I can see you sympathising with Papa Ajasco. My message to you is that it has ever happened to you and you dont know. Next time you see your spouse looking at you without blinking and not saying anything, he or she is rebuking the devil that led him/her to you. In the first place, you were not his or her first choice. You came from her or his village and you are the only person he/she knew abroad. One thing led to another and since the house was a bedsitter, you both started fusing your bodies into one. Soon you were going to work together, to supermarket, to church, birthdays...Soon you were expectant. You got married without knowing?! The same way you got married without knowing is the same way your spouse feels in the privacy of his bedroom...that he also got married without his knowledge. Aah...so you both sinned without knowing?
 

By the way, appreciate your spouse whether you got married without knowing or not. Forget about that boyfriend or girlfriend that you were in relationship with. Past is past and you cannot unscramble eggs. Think kindly of one another. Better thye devil you know than the Angel you dont know. At least you are in the statistics of those people who have spouses. My message to you is this- that you cannot run not unless you are chased. You must make mistakes in the course of your life because you are not an Angel. No matter what you do, people will say bad things about you. You will always attract innocent crooks. The best thing to do is just to be you and know that nothing happens by chance. It is always ordained by God. Makosa itafanyika. So long as you live you will always commit sins without knowing.

A Whisper from London (You are trapped in a mine, its time to come out!)

January 4 2011 at 3:56 PM

Year 2010 came and left and we will never see it again in our life time. It is gone, gone and gone forever. We are now in the New Year 2011 and just like the year before, it will also go and be in the history books. The truth of the matter is that each one of us is one year older because nobody can stop the time. Just like any other year, this year will come with its good and bad things. My hope is that this year will be the year where all your dreams will come true. God never creates a junk and you are not a junk irrespective of your prevailing circumstances. May you have the best in everything especially more money than you need. Remember that you only live once. One day you will close your eyelids and your dead body will rest forever in a garden which is called a graveyard. There must be something that has made your life not move forward the way you have always wanted. You have been trapped in a mine and it is time you came out of that mine.

Just for a moment, imagine that you were one of those 33 Chilean miners trapped 2,300 feet underground in San Jose copper and gold mine near the northern town of Copiapo. Imagine what was going on in their mind when they knew that they were trapped and death was imminent. The mine was dark, very hot (30 degrees Celsius!) and crowded. We are told that for the first seventeen days, they survived on food in emergency shelter. Each miner lived on two spoonfuls of tuna, a sip of milk, a bite of crackers and a small amount of peaches every other day until supplies were sent down. When it was discovered that they were alive, supplies were sent down through a tube down through the mine. Even with supplies ready, the problem was not yet over because doctors put them in a strict diet of 2,200 Calories to keep them slim enough to fit in evacuation shaft which was a mere 66cm in diameter. Don't forget that there was no guarantee that the mine could not collapse anytime and all the 33 miners die instantly. I don't know how you my reader could have survived in that mine. Imagine how you eat a mountain of ugali at home and yet you visit 'Thatched' and feed on more fish and soup yet you complain of how life is hard. If you value humanity, you must have sympathised with them. For all those 68 days all the miners suffered mental anguish and their life was just one blank piece of sheet.
 

Can I inform you that you could be in a worse situation than those Chilean miners? They were trapped for 68 days but you have been in trapped in a mine for all your life and you have no idea that you have been trapped. If you are not aware that you are trapped, there is no way you will ever ask for help so nobody will come to your aid.
 

If you were born in my generation and you come from where I was born and brought up, you will agree with me that we children were supposed to be seen but not to be heard. Our parents were strict and some were even illiterate. Whatever advice they were giving us was out of ignorance and illiteracy. For example our grandmothers believed that if you a baby was not getting enough milk from the mum, it was because the father was having sex with the mother immediately the baby was delivered. If a baby developed pneumonia in the morning, then it was because the parents were having more sex than normal and the spirits of too much sex affected the baby thus generating pneumonia. One can imagine what effect such a role model with that line of thought could have on us. A simple mistake would make your parents cane you until your buttocks became minced meat. The children grew up in fear in the home. At school, the story was the same- a lot of child abuse. I am sure that our primary school of that time would produce professors in brutality especially that of children. Every day we were told that we were good for nothing and we would amount to nothing. There was nothing looking at life in a positive perspective. This made the children grow with low self esteem and no confidence. We never saw anything good in life. We just saw a dark crowded life with nothing to offer. Our minds were therefore trapped and we could not stretch our imagination to see that the world was full of milk and honey.

My experience in life is that if you do not have self confidence, the chances of making it in life are very slim. One time prime minister of Britain Mr. Benjamin Disraeli said that we should nature our thoughts because we cannot rise above what we are thinking. You have low goals and you will never rise above your low goals. I always wonder why Nigerians and Asians in western world take noble roles like doctors, accountants, architects, lawyers and so on. I think this has something to do with their upbringing. Where would you find most Jamhurians hardworking as they are? Does this have anything to do with upbringing and our thoughts? In this case, we are trapped by our own line of thoughts. We are in a mine many miles under the ground and we do not know. Of course there are some who are high fliers and what do the other people trapped in the mine do? Through our mediocrity and jealousy, we are very busy pulling them down and badmouthing them. We believe that you cannot make it in the west not unless you belong to a secretive society. What a load of bullsh**? Ask some members of other communities and they will for example tell you that Britain is a mighty river flowing with money and it is only that people do not know how to tap it. Our line of thought is a mine we are trapped in.

Most of us suffer from what we call approval addiction. We can suffer silently so as not to upset other people even when they do us wrong. Our choice of friends matter a lot because if we have idiots as friends of the inner circle, we will soon evolve to be idiots. There are those people you call friends who will never see anything good in you. They will criticise your wife, your children and even your job. When with you, you are a superstar but in private you are the most stupid living thing. There are people you should do away with. Dont hate them but watch them from a distance. There are those who will make your ship sink. Dont sink with them. Dont enter the mine with them because you will be trapped forever. There will be no PHONIX to rescue you.
 

Your spouse can be a mine that can trap you. In public you are a husband and a wife. You hold hands and call each other sweet nothings when going to church. From outside you are a perfect couple but in private you each lead separate lives. Explain to me why you have a project in Jamhuri and your wife has got no clue on what it is. Take me through why all your bank statements find their way in the bin and you are a husband or wife to somebody. Know what, you are both trapped in the mine of selfishness. Why are you competing with one another yet you claim to be a husband and wife? If your only common factor is the children and casual sex (when you are not arguing) then you are both trapped in the mine of life. By the time you realise that you should pull resources together like other couples and make something out of life, you will be counting your days to the grave. What a waste of life. Cant you see that both of you are trapped and its the time you came out?

You are a man and you are not making any effort to look for a job and add value to the family. Your work is to just to talk about Chelsea, Man U, Manchester city and how your team is holding the other by their balls. You watch TV and read The Sun and start analysing the girl in page 3, how her bum is curved like a calabash and her nipples are pink. You are sitting on a time bomb. Unknown to you, your wife is fed up with you and there is a man somewhere who is about to literally throw stones in your garden. You have attracted poverty by choice. Do not say that your wife is too naive that she cannot make love to another man. She can, every woman can! Did I hear you say that your wife has no interest in sex? That the last time she enjoyed intimate moment was before the referendum came into place? To you it is not normal for a woman to be dry all the time when you two want to have a wrestling match after watching East enders? Unknown to you, the message she is texting to Mama wa supu ya nyanya is a message to her lover for showing her sex styles that she has never experienced before. To you, those styles she is describing are styles za umalaya. You dont work and you are those serious men who dont make jokes to their wives. A gentleman in her place of work makes her day by his humour unlike you who makes the home feel like one is having breakfast in a morgue. The year has just started and you got to have a turn-around strategy in your life if you want to come out of the mine you have made yourself get trapped into.

And you woman you are also trapped in the mine of arrogance and being moody to your husband. Its time you became interesting and make a home a comfortable place for a man to be. A well known pastor likened relationship with a football match. There are main players and some reserves that are doing warm up to replace that player who is tired or injured. Are you tired and injured in the match? There are many beautiful girls out there who are doing warm up ready to replace you. They come in form of your very close friends, your workmates or just ladies you will know when they will have twice been impregnated by your husband. Shed your pride and open your eyes wide and ask yourself why most relationships in the west are trapped in mines never to see the sun. You think you are different. Time will tell.
 

Another thing that traps people in a mine is curses. For years you have remained in the same place despite being in the country with one of the best economy. There must be a problem somewhere. There must be something that is preventing you from thinking outside the box. How have you been treating your parents? Do you care how you talk to them? Do you help them? How about your in-laws? Are your in-laws devils? the same way they were ten years ago? Have you ever sent wazee to tell your in-laws that you are living with their daughter? Never? Then you are under a curse, no wonder you two are never happy in your marriage. How about you, mother of so and so, according to you who is your mum-in-law? Demon? And you expect blessings? Ask me another!

You are blessed and you have a business in the west. How do you treat your workers? Do you see them as colleagues or tools of trade? Ever wondered how you talk to them? You can attract a blessing or a curse from them. If you attract a curse from them, that puts you in a mine and you are trapped forever. For example do you think there is any man who would want to do the so called marathon when he has wife and kids at home? Instead of thanking God for uplifting you financially, you are talking to your workers like your upper lip is mating with the lower one and the tongue is witnessing? Why do you think other people in your field are prospering and your business is in s standstill? How about that worker who does not respect the job he is doing? For example you are doing marathon and you have slept 99% of the time. If you dont change you will be doing marathon until Jesus will come back. Respect the job you are doing or the job will curse you and trap you.

It is about time we all knew what is making us not move forward. New Year has just started. I hope each of us will know what the mine is and where the trap is. Come out of the trap, its a new beginning. You were made to flourish not to live on basics. God help us to open our minds and see far. Help us to identify the traps that hinder our progress. When this year ends, let us all look back and say; WE CAME OUT OF THE MINE THAT TRAPPED US, YES! WHAT A WONDERFUL YEAR 2011 WAS!
 

A Whisper from London (Supposing Jesus was born in Jamhuri)

December 24 2010 at 8:40 PM

I don't have to go on and on to tell you who Jesus Christ was. What I know is that if you want to have a ticket to go to Heaven, you must believe in him. He was born and he had to die so that you and I can have eternal life. Period. You can deny as much as you can about his mysterious birth and his resurrection. The truth of the matter is that he is one person who was born over two thousand ago and he changed the course of the human history. Supposing, just supposing he was born in Jamhuri whose ruler is father of Jimmy.

Imagine what the other men who were circumcised with the same knife with the husband of Mary who goes by the name Joseph would take him to be. How will Joseph or 'Njuuthubu' tell wazee that his wife Mary is expecting a bouncing baby boy in few days time and he is not responsible for the pregnancy? Don't forget that it is election time and every head of the household is supposed to go back to where he was born so as to be registered. The ruler at this time is not Caesar Augustus but none other than Lucy's beloved husband Emilio. Here we have a Mary the heavily pregnant peasant girl who has to walk some 80 miles from her Nazareth city to Bethlehem where her only known husband was born and brought up.

Joseph and his wife have to obey the law and they have to trek a treacherous walk for four days so as to abide by laws of the land as ignorance of law is no defence. No sooner have they reached their Bethlehem city than they find that so many men have to come to register for the census. We know that Joseph is a good mannered man and he is not known to shout even when matters do not go his way. Let us not forget that when he got to know that his wife Mary was expectant, he did not start beating her and shouting obscenities but just packed his bags and was ready to leave. I dont know of any quintessential Jamhurian man who would just pack his bags and leave on hearing the wife is expectant and he is not the father. He would swear by the thong of his grandmother (if she had any!) that he would kill the wife and the unborn baby whether there is FIDA or not.

In the market place and places of work the story is the same, whether anybody has heard that Joseph the carpenter has a wife who is expectant and Joseph has never had sex with her. Listen to the conversation:

Joshua: Good to see you Johanna, have you heard that the baby in Juthuubus belly is not his?

Johanna: You must be kidding me! You mean Njuuthubu is not a man of taste? What happens when he goes to bed and cows and chicken are asleep? Doesnt he demonstrate the anger of his love to the wife? Does he not want to know whether his wife is a man or woman? Some men these days are crazy! We have heard of gay men marrying in London, has he imported that demonic spirit?
Joshua: Forget about Njuuthubu, starehe za mbwa ni kukalia mkia.

To any Jamhurian man, Joseph is incompetent, impotent and corrupt! When other men are calling themselves men, he should call himself an insect! Real men show their wives by deed that they are not their brothers and so they should not only greet them with bare hands but also with something else at the right temperature when all other factors are constant.

Back to Josephs city of birth- the EDD day for Josephs wife is near. All the rooms are occupied and the wife has started having labour pains. The only place where she can deliver from is in a manger. For reasons not known to us, we are not told of any woman who helped her deliver the kid. Finally the kid is born. Meanwhile the Angel of the Lord tells the three shepherds watching their flocks by night to spread the word that the saviour has been born and he will be king of kings.

Very few Jamhurians will believe that the kid born will be king of kings considering the circumstances in which he is born in. The leaders of the country will not take it lightly especially those who believe that they can also be addressed as Your Excellency Sir or Madam. They will be under too much pressure from their wives because even their wives would want to have the title Your Excellency the first Lady. After too much nagging, the presidential aspirants will inform their wives to start a church even with five members and automatically have First Lady as their title.

The news will reach the leaders especially those eyeing the 2012 presidential elections. Emilio would not care whether he would be king of kings so long as he does not become during his tenure of the occupant of that great house on the hill. Raila has just been baptised and born again and so there are chances that he might not be bothered after all but that would be in public. In the privacy of his bedroom, he would wish the so called saviour was born after he has had his two terms as the president of Jamhuri which was previous known as an island of peace in a sea of chaos. This was before Jamhurians had ever heard of the name Coalition government. Uhuru as a Young Turk would see that his presidential ambitions have been thwarted by the new kid on the block by the name Jesus and he too would wish he was born in another country. He would not show publicly that the boy born in the manger will destroy his chances of being the leader like his father did as the father of the nation. Whether Kalonzo will welcome the news of the birth of Jesus with joy or sorrow is something an ordinary mwananchi would know. He has been known to be a man of God but he is made of fresh and blood and has his own presidential aspirations. Martha Karua is also known to have ambitions to become the first female president and it would be interesting to see her reactions.

I bet Martha would wait for Jesus to grow up and then have a meeting with him. Listen to her on meeting Jesus:
Martha: Jesus thy kingdom come-through Mary.
Jesus: Good to see you Martha, can I help you?
Martha: I heard that you are in the city and I decided to come and say Hallo
Jesus: Oh Martha, that is good to hear.

Martha: They say that you are king of kings...
Jesus: Yes Martha go on...
Martha: Some say you are the son of God...
Jesus: And you, who do you say that I am?
Martha: You are the son of God!

Jesus: I am sure you did not just come to ask me who I am. Can I help you?

Martha: Yes, I am a presidential aspirant. Do you mind if I ask you whether you have the same ambitions too?
Jesus: A man cannot live on presidential ambitions alone. Can I suggest you be a fisher of men?

Martha: Yeah, good idea especially from Statehouse! There are those who planned and executed genocide in the country and they still want to be president! Some are known for corruption and are even murderers! As far as I know, I am the cleanest person of all. Tell me of any Jamhurian minister who would resign from a cabinet post at his or her own will? I am the only one and I need your blessings. I know some other aspirants would come to ask for your blessings. Tell them that they should first go to Hague to answer charges of crimes against humanity. Once in jail, let them repent to be with your father.

Jesus: Thanks Martha. May the right person win.

More and more politicians will come to see Jesus. Message will be the same- they should be fishers of men, to look beyond earthly powers and earn a first class ticket to Heaven.

As time goes Jesus decides to live a personal life rather than be in the public eye. The next time people will hear of him is when he is thirty three years old. By this time he has become so powerful that he is doing miracles, signs and wonders which are beyond human understanding. This will not go well with the powers that be and Jesus Christ will be living on a borrowed time. Soon he will be branded a criminal and treason charges will be brought up against him. He knows that the leaders are uncomfortable with him and they will finally despatch him to the next world. He can read the minds of his most trusted lieutenants and they will betray him. They finally betray him and he is crucified. On the third day he is raised from the dead and he goes to live with his father.
 

From Heaven he can now see all what is going in the world especially in Jamhuri. If he announced his next coming and he will be at the airport, many leaders will be there to welcome him. They will be there in their Limousines waiting for the saviour. Jesus will know very well that they will be there so that they can use his fame to ride to the higher echelons of power. I wonder how he feels when he sees his name being used by some people as a tool of trade. How does he feel when he sees men of God praying and speaking in tongues yet they continue to sin? I think he would need special knowledge to understand the theory of a man of God touching someone and that someone falling down leaving the man of God walking. How comes a member of the congregation falls and he does not fall and the same spirit he claims to have comes from the same source. Does the Holy Spirit discriminate?

Whatever the case, Jesus Christ came to this world to make us free and be free indeed. He died for our sins so that when our time comes we will be seated with our God in Heaven. Jesus Christ has no substitute and nobody should behave like he or she is Jesus. There is only one Jesus who is the son of God. You are born of fresh and blood and so you are just human. Just like any mortal human you like eating a goat's liver because it is rich in vitamins. You also like feeding on goat ribs and its intestines plus the goat head. If you can do all this, how comes you behave like you are the only person who has password to enter Gods kingdom? Jesus told us that none will enter Gods kingdom unless he goes through him. Jesus was born and crucified and one day he will come back. Supposing his first stop will be Jamu where he was presumably born? WHOEVER YOU ARE AND WHEREVER YOU ARE, MAY YOU HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS. MAY GOD BE WITH YOU.

Whispers From London (Missing in action!) Part Four

...Continued from Part 3
 

As the old man continued to tell me his story, I could not help to notice that he was indeed very sorry for what had happened in the past. One thing was certain that he had all the chances to see his son and he never made any effort to do so. Just when he had made up his mind to meet his thirty year old son, his son tragically died in a car accident in Budapest, Hungary. His late son left behind a wife and two children who at that particular moment were staying in one city hotel. It was too late to say sorry because no amount of remorsefulness would bring his son back to life. Make peace when you have a chance. You know whether you will be there tomorrow. Do not let the chance of seeing your children grow pass you. This is one experience that you will never rewind. To you who are in the west and you abandoned your children in Africa; their tears will always touch God in a mighty way. In return God will make your life a nightmare even if you pray and fast and do karate chops in a bid to rebuke the devil. The devil is you my brother my sister.
 

Back to the letter:
'...Zak, I know you have always wondered why I have never told you about my parents. When the time is right, I will tell you. At present, please bear with me because I want you to love me the way I am. Can I open the lid and inform you that my mum is from Hungary and my dad is from Germany. We have been moving from this country to another depending on...never mind!
 

Darling, I know how difficult life is for you. Because of associating yourself with me, you are harassed left, right and centre. Thank you for finding me worth the risk. I cannot imagine life without you. Trust me; I will always be there for you in this world or the next. I am nothing without you.

About your education, don't worry. When we break for summer holidays, I will talk to one relative who can help us out. Just consider it done and let it not worry you. I am going to economise my expenses to fund your education. We can then plan our future from there.

Imagine when we will be blessed with a baby? I can't wait to hold our baby in my arms. I imagine the baby looking exactly like you, academic giant like you; handsome like you...you name it! How I wish we can forward time to make it happen! Please let me know your version.

With lots of luv,

Martha Zak
To say the truth, I felt relieved but I was not very comfortable with a stranger paying my fees. Every quintessential African man has his pride when he does things his own way. Also, I wondered whether there was something else my girlfriend was hiding. Whatever was in the letter was something that she could tell me when kissing me in bed. Why the letter?
 

After one month passed, I noticed that Martha's usual happiness was disappearing. I was used to her singing sweet love songs in the morning when she was taking a shower but now it was no more. We could be in the middle of a conversation and she could look up and try to say something but stop immediately. Something must have been going wrong somewhere.

I gained courage and I asked her what the problem was. She pretended that it was nothing but I insisted that she tell me what the problem was.
'Zak, promise me that you will not feel offended' she said after a long pause.
'Sweetheart you know me. I swear by the gods of our mountains in Zambia that nothing can offend me so long as it has come from you,' I assured her as my heart skipped a beat because of curiosity.

'Okay darling, remember that time I wrote a letter to you, did you like it?'
'Of course I liked it sweetheart...its like if you ask me whether grass is green!'
'Okay Zak, you know I am not a virgin'

'But you once were!' I joked to relieve the tension.
'You are also not a virgin Zak, not even before I met you....
'Yeah, I lost my virginity in a maize plantation in Zambia many years ago. All what I remember is that I was doing it with a village girl in a blue tattered skirt and old torn slippers'

'Okay Zak, those are details. Now I feel some changes in my body. I am vomiting in the morning, I am moody and I am scared to show you my moods because I don't want to lose you. I...I...twice missed...'
'Missed whaaat?!'
'My periods!'
'You have missed your periods Martha?!'
'That's right!'
'That means you are expectant?'
'Hopefully'

I looked at her again and again. At that moment I hated all those lovemaking moments that Martha and I had had. I wished she could tell me that I was not the sperm provider. The whole thing looked like fiction and I wished the world would swallow me alive. Here I was as a foreign African student on scholarship which had been discontinued. My foster parents were going separate ways the time I left them and my biological mother had died many years ago. My only brother left by train to Johannesburg even before his teenager years to find a better life. As far as I knew my brother had gone to find work as a gold miner but who would employ a kid in a gold mine? I did not know whether he was dead or alive. Why was life so unfair? Was my family cursed?

My girlfriend stopped talking and stared at me as if to get an answer of what we could do next. I had never been a father even to the tiniest insect leave alone a human being.

'So Martha, what do we do now?' I asked still surprised and in deep shock.
'Darling, you are the man, please tell me where we go from here,' she answered.

I have never heard such sarcasm in my life. What kind of man was I if I was not able to further my education in one of the top universities in the world? What self respecting gentleman puts his girlfriend in a family way and then starts shaking? What man who called himself a westerner did not have a place to call home? At that moment I realised that the last time I communicated with my foster parents was the first month when the semester started. My 'mum' was complaining that she was not feeling well because of the change of climate. I should have replied and offer a word of sympathy but I didnt. She was the best mum I knew after my real mum. She treated me the same way she would treat her own biological son. I have never gone to the kitchen to cook for myself. She always made sure that I had good meals. My room which was next to the lounge was always spotless-courtesy of my mum.

The mess was already done and pregnancy was an irreversible action. The environment which I was in was not conducive to me having a mouth to feed, leave alone a family. Supposing I asked her to terminate her pregnancy, would she be offended? I cleared my throat and gained courage to ask her what she thought.
Darling, supposing we terminate this pregnancy, you know how things are? I asked her waiting for the worst.

She kept quiet and went to the bathroom as if she was answering a call of nature. I held my chin and mouth in shame. Five minutes gone she was still in the bathroom. I peeped through the keyhole and saw her crying and crying. Her eyes were red and so was her face. I had never seen her like that. Finally she came out still sobbing.
Are you serious that you want us to kill this baby? Are you a murderer? Dont you want to see your fresh and blood? You have no other family you can count on and when God blesses you with a son or a daughter, you suggest we kill him. This is just an innocent kid and if you feel that that is the best you can do, go ahead but I am not going to be in that kind of an arrangement! I can go on with the abortion process and then my womb will be cursed by God in such a way that I will never have another baby. I might never hear another kid calling me mum. Is it worth the risk? Even you, because of suggesting that we kill an innocent baby, you might never be called a dad ever. Your ears will never hear your own biological son calling you daddy. Probably this is the baby who will discover the cure for cancer, probably end communism or apartheid. How dare you say that I kill my baby? she asked.

I have never felt that guilty. I regretted suggesting to her that we terminate the pregnancy. After telling her that I did not mean to offend her for hours and hours, she finally agreed that I suggested out of naivety. From that time, I pretended that I was ready for the baby and I would possibly be the best father the world had ever seen. She was happy to hear that. We went to bed and we made love as if the world was ending the following day. My hope was that another pregnancy would not form on the already existing one.

It was time to break for summer holidays. I had to come back to England to my foster parents. On closing day we both took a train from st. Petersburg to Budapest. Martha suggested we spend the night at her home but I protested. We decided to spend our last night together in a hotel situated on the Pest side across river Danube near Heroes corner.

It was a wonderful night to be with Martha. She kept on requesting me to honour my promise that I would come back for her during the next semester. She even told me that she will convince her relatives to pay for my tuition and accommodation. To prove her point she would send me the receipts for prepaid fees plus any miscellaneous expense for that year. We held our bodies tightly against one another and kissed passionately. I very tired and I fell asleep. At night I woke up and to my surprise the lights were still on and Martha was looking at me with tears flowing down her cheeks.

Sweetie, something tells me that you are going for good. I was dreaming that you and I were walking along the river bank when an army from an enemy country came after us. For us to cross to the other side, we had to swim across the river to be safe. In the river there crocodiles waiting to turn us into their meals. You were a good swimmer and within minutes you had swam across the river like a fish. You knew that I could not swim but you just left me there stranded. I saw you appear on the other side of the river. You waved at me as I requested you to kindly wait for me. You kept on waving at me while still going and going away. Finally you disappeared among the hills and I never saw you again. By this time the army was at arms length. I was shocked and that is when I woke up! she narrated.
You know I will never do that! I have given you even my home address, even the name of my foster parents. How can I be that evil to leave my beautiful girl who is having my baby? I asked her as I assured her that all was okay.

We woke the next day and took a shower together then we ate breakfast. Marthas eyes were not leaving me. I was like a ripe mango fruit to her from the way she was stealing peeps at me. I was to leave in two hours time. My journey would take me through Germany then Belgium and France and finally Dover port. I would then take a train to London and finally to Luton. I bid her goodbye and floods of tears dropped from her eyes like a volcano. She held my hand tightly still requesting me not to forget her and not to let any lady spread her legs for me. I assured her that from that time henceforth, all women would look like vegetables in front of my eyes. Finally the train came and off I left my beautiful Martha still looking perplexed.

The journey was tiring and I could not get Martha out of my mind. From the way she loved me, I could not imagine her without me. How could she face her parents and inform them that she was pregnant and she was impregnated by an African who wanted money for tuition? An African they had never seen who had a doctorate of impregnating beautiful white girls?

I reached Luton train station the following day at around eleven at night. I could not call my foster parents because there were no mobile phones those days. I took a taxi and headed to 7200 Dunstable Road, Luton which was my home address. I had always carried my key to the front door. I tried to open the door but it could not open. Finally I realised that the lock had been changed. I knocked and the door was opened.

To my surprise, the door was opened by a middle aged woman of Asian origin. The air in the house was full of curry rice. Was I in the right address? Yes! This was 7200 Dunstable road, Luton! Gosh!

How can I help you sir? the lady asked me with heavy Indian accent.
Sorry to bother you but is this not 7200 Dunstable road, Luton? I asked.
Yes it is! Are you blind? Cant you READ?! she exclaimed.
Where is Mrs. Smith? I asked referring to my foster mum.

Who the hell is Mrs. Smith? The only other female here is my dota! She said with yet another Indian accent.
Sorry to bother you madam but I used to live here. This is the only place I know as home, I told her.
Do I care? I only care about my husband and my dota!

Now where am I going to sleep? I asked her when I saw that she was about to close the door.
Tri the bus station!! she exclaimed as she finally banged the door and shut any communication with me.

***************JOIN ME IN PART 5*****************

Whispers From London (Missing in action!) Part 3

September 29 2010 at 9:38 PM                                                         Man Man

Continued from Part 2

As I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat. I was expecting my friend from Uganda who was in his first year in the University. I was amazed to find that I was opening the door for the beautiful Hungarian girl who I had met in the library. What a show?! What a visitor?! What a sudden piece of luck! On seeing me she smiled broadly as I ushered her in.

She was the last person I was expecting to visit me. I remembered giving her the Hall and the room number but no arrangements to visit me. All in all I felt honoured by her presence. I showed her a place to sit next to the table as I sat on my bed. I guess she could see that I was nervous. I looked at her beautiful smiling eyes and her pointed nose between her round cheeks and realised that when God was making her, He must have been very kind. What of those two legs that looked like two orange juice bottles kept together?! How about that set of ripe boobs with two innocent nipples that seemed to be saying, 'I am blessed and highly favoured?' As she sat next to me, I looked at her knee-high skirt and in my mind started 'undressing' her by imagining kissing her sweet lips, down the neck...down the tummy, the navel...down...down...Gosh! Supposing she was not real, maybe a mermaid...but where was the tail? She was real, a real Angel but made of fresh and blood! Wow!

'You were not expecting me Zak...were you? Sorry I have invaded your privacy...you have to forgive me...I should be going...,' she said.
'No, no, err...Never, feel comfortable, feel at home,' I said not knowing whether that was the right thing to say.
'You are a very sweet guy...thanks for your welcome!' she said as she smiled more and more exposing her nice, white sparkling teeth.
'In fact do not even just feel at home...feel at Heaven!' I answered as I tried to sound a humorous sweet guy.
'Know what, I was just bored in my room when some other classmates came to visit me...'
'And theeen...'

'They are very boring, just talking nonsense...so I decided to take refuge to you...'
'I am I interesting?' I asked her fully convinced that this was a perfect substitute of mistaken identity. I never considered Science oriented people like me to have humour but...

'Oh Yes! Remember the other day in the library? I still remember what you were telling me about your friends in high school, how they were provided with sandpaper to clean iron in Chemistry exams and instead of using sandpaper to clean the metal, they hid it because to them it was a cheap toilet paper!'

We talked about weather, politics, and people, back to weather, politics again, more weather and finally relationships. I learned that she had just split up with her boyfriend who was in another University some twenty miles to the west of the city of St. Petersburg.
'So what did your boyfriend do for you to call it quits?'

'From outside, he looked a very good man, tall, Muscular and very athletic, very smart looking but...'
'But what? To me that sounds like a perfect gentleman. Every girl would go for such a guy!'
'Remember looks can sometimes be deceiving. Also not all that glitters is gold...the saying goes'.

'To him I was like his property. He never wanted me to speak to anybody. I was supposed to give him 110% attention. In his presence, I was not supposed to look at any man and if I looked at him, it was a cardinal sin to look at him below the belt. He would enter into my room and go through my handbags in my presence pretending that he was looking for chocolates! What a big baby! Not even that, he could read my letters from my brothers. To him I was not even supposed to call my parents without his permission. He could take me to lecture halls, get me from lecture halls, take me for shopping, take me to church, escort me to hair salon and dictate which hair style I was supposed to have. We would then go to a hotel and he would start arguing with the chef and waiters. At night it was time to go home where we would he would start arguments for hours and hours.
But then why were you in such a relationship in the first place?

I was just naive. The guy was just full of himself although he was doing a course that was inferior to mine. He never wanted to discuss anything academic because he knew that he was a dwarf to me. The world started with him and ended with him, everything was me, me, me, myself and I. He could not get advice from anybody even from professionals. He always threatened to kill me if I ever left him. To say the least, my love for him started going downhill from the second week of meeting him. The final straw came when he slapped me and I fell on the ground. That was the time I knew that we were not meant for each other and I had to have a plan B.

And did you get your plan B?
Unfortunately I dont trust any man. I think it must be because of the experience that I had with that demon. He left a very serious psychological scar in my mind about men. Any time I meet a man and he tells me that he loves me, I see him following me everywhere never giving me a breathing space, she said as she looked at me in suspicion.

Looking back, I think that was my best time in life. I looked at her immense beauty and wondered how on earth any sane man could raise his hand to beat such an Angel. I looked at my watch and saw that it was going to five in the evening and she was in no hurry of leaving. If only time would go backwards! Was she in love with me? Well, maybe yes, maybe not. I served her with mango juice and I could not help admiring the way she was holding the glass with her well shaped feminine fingers. I was just a simple black boy who was born and raised in Lusaka but now in Soviet Union with a beauty queen. Talk of magic! I guess an outsider would compare her and me as an ugly male duck and a beautiful female peacock having a chat.

Days turned into months and we continued seeing each other. Soon we were fully in love and inseparable. We used to spend most of the nights together in my room. Everybody in the University knew that Martha was in love with a black African man and she took pride in that. When with her, I felt like I was walking on clouds. I could see all my problems disappearing in the ocean and dropping in the deepest spot. She was cute, warm and caring. I have not been loved like that and she has never been shown love like that by any other man. I was her Alpha and Omega. I give her credit as the best kisser. Anytime I think about her, I feel her tongue and mine coming into contact and telling one another that only death would separate them.

Our love for one another was not without problems from outsiders. Both Martha and I started getting hate mails from strangers. The most scaring mail was one which carried death threats if I did not end my relationship with Martha. I remember walking at night along the halls of residence in the university and rotten eggs were thrown at me. I could hear some people shouting; Go back to Zimbabwe!! Go back to Zimbabwe you f*****g n****r!. Martha also started getting hate mails. One mail from undisclosed source asked her to choose death or me. With death threats or not, we were undaunted. We continued seeing each other despite the danger that was written all over our paths. Whoever said that true love knows no bounds was right.

As time went on, I questioned myself on what would happen if death threats towards Martha were real and what would happen if there was a secret assassin somewhere who would pull the trigger and end Marthas life. Why this thought came to me I could not tell. Should we end the relationship and just be friends? I was at cross roads. I loved Martha in the right sense of the word. I could not imagine leaving her and another man taking over my space. I traced a mans rough hands careless her after passionately kissing her, unbutton her blouse, remove her bra, careless her again, and down the navel...down....ahh...NO! NO! NO! But then something had to be done to avoid danger.

We came to realise that the author of the hate mails was her former boyfriend. I got this information from a stranger who told me that he was just helping me as a good Christian. He told me in confidence all what the guy was planning and that he meant business.

The following Saturday I called my girlfriend and we had a long, long chat about the future of our relationship. I suggested that we end the relationship for her sake. She could not hear of that. She told me that she was ready to die for me and that if I died that day, she would also commit suicide to follow me in death!

Zak, you are everything that I would want in life. I am ready to live with you even at the bottom of the sea! The bible says that no weapons aimed at you will prosper. We are believers, lets stay strong and fight for our love. How can I live without you? I know your history and I want to take care of you until the end of the world. My parents know you and...
Your parents know me...? I interjected.
Yes, I told them that I am seeing a man from Africa
How did they react? I asked curiously.

I am sure they are okay. In fact I sent them a letter last week. By now the letter is in Budapest and I can see them smiling because I have never shared my personal life with them.

I could not believe my ears. The last thing I wanted was any of the parents to know about our relationship. How would they react on realising that their daughter was having romantic moments with an African gentleman? I would just visualise them telling each one another that Martha loved me the first time we ate a meal cooked by me in one lonely night.

I realised that despite Martha being very discreet with me, she always avoided the mention of her background, about her parents and their occupation. I had told her everything about my dysfunctional family background but as for her, everything was confidential. I started wondering whether there was something that she was hiding. Was it normal for someone to love you with all her heart but be uncomfortable with her background? I had even shown her the photo of my foster parents for her to understand me and where I had come from. Anytime I asked her to show me her family photos, she could only show me her brothers and sisters in a photo studio. I did not want to upset her so I just swept all my curiosity under the carpet. I knew that the parents were alive but then why hide them? Were they Chimpanzees or Zinjanthropus, maybe fossils that refused to be extinct?

We decide to ignore everything, just to have faith in God that all weapons aimed at us would not prosper. To Martha, everything was okay so long as I loved her. As for me, every day was a nightmare. My scholarship was ending in that Semester and I was to be on my own the next academic year. I had to tell my girlfriend that there was a chance that I was heading back to England for good because of lack of sponsorship. To say that she was devastated was an understatement! She cried the whole night. At night she held me very tight against her slender body. She could even follow me to the toilet to see that I had not vanished. As the night went on we both fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by her shouts and screams. I was shocked. On asking her what the problem was, she told me that she was dreaming that I had transformed myself to be a bird and I had flown away across the sea to the skies leaving her alone.

In the morning she told me how disturbed she was by my going but she had another plan which she would disclose that night. Just before bedtime she removed a small note she had written and handed it over to me. She had never communicated to me in written notes so I was surprised. As I took the note, my hand started shaking. I looked at her and she looked down and covered her mouth and scratched her ears and her neck. The note looked like it had been written in a hurry. It read:-
My dear Zak,

....Zak, I have no words to express what you mean to me. We have gone through hell and back together. I have always wanted to tell you something about myself from last month but anytime I open my mouth, I get tongue tied. I dont know where to start but perhaps I should start by myself, the real me...
*********************************************************************************
****JOIN ME IN PART 4****What happened on the way to Heaven?****

Whispers From London (Missing in action!) Part Two.

September 4 2010 at 11:00 PM                                                    Man Man

Continued from Part one:-

When the old man was out of vicinity, I realised that I had not even asked him his name but that did not bother me much. I kept on wondering how on earth God could bless him with a son, the son to live for over thirty years, yet he had never bothered to see him despite him being in the same continent. Could there be something that the old man was hiding or was he just unfortunate in life?

In my hotel room, the memories of the old man would come and go. On the balcony I looked at the skyline over the city. From afar I could see the hotel where he was staying. I imagined him and his daughter-in-law and the grandchildren. What were they talking about considering that they had never met? What reason would he give for not seeing his son? My guess was that he had more questions to answer and a lot of soul searching to do within himself. As I was about to retire to bed, my phone rang. It was the old man who wanted to change the venue of our meeting. His suggestion was that we meet on top of a hill in Castle district which- to tourists in Hungary was like 'Eiffel Tower' to tourists in Paris. I had no objection; in any case, I had some two more free days before I embarked on my main mission in Budapest. I slept soundly as the night went on and on and on.

At exactly 10 a.m. the following we met at the scheduled meeting place. The man had already reached there before me. From a distance I saw him with a pencil and a white paper drawing something. On seeing me he was overjoyed. He greeted me with one hand as he held his drawing with the other hand. He had drawn the vertical view of the Pest side with such accuracy that he would give the famous architects like Leonardo da Vinci or Christopher wren a run for their money.
 

"This must be the work of a genius, look at that drawing!' I said in amazement.
"I am an architect by profession so drawing to me come very easy, thanks for the compliment all the same," he said after making the final sketch.
"Can you imagine I don't even know your name- whats your name by the way?" I asked.
"My real name is Zachary, you can call me Zak, yeah...Zak will do. Zak from Zambia originally!" he said with an air of importance.
"So where do we start with the story of Zak of Zambia?" I asked curiously. On hearing my question, Zak looked up and scratched his ears after wiping off imaginary dirt from his wrinkled face. I noticed that he was paying a lot of attention to my small gold chain I was wearing on my neck. As he spoke, his deep penetrating eyes scanned me from head to toe. My prayer was that this was not a repetition of that ugly episode in the plane that Zak (or whoever!) had made me undergo.
"Mr. Zachary, you had a son...let's start from there..." I said to break the silence.
"Yes, whose name was Amedeo? Amedeo who died before his time!"
"You said that you two never met"
"Regrettably yes"
"You had a chance to meet your own fresh and blood and you never did?"
"Thats right!"
"Were you meeting with his mother?"
"That is another story for another day...its very painful!" When I remember her, life becomes one long blank piece of sheet."
"If wishes were horses...how I regret! Since I left her my life has never been the same again. Look at me now. I am in my sunset years yet I have never settled! I don't have a family! Do you know the pain of knowing that you are dying and you are dying like a dog without your loved ones by your deathbed? If only I can rewind the clock, I would marry her again and we raise our family together. We would be going for holidays in the sunshine state of Florida in America. Its too late now...Why the hell did the devil come to our lives? Martha...Martha...Martha, find some forgiveness in your heart and forgive me, he said as slapped his forehead repeatedly in anger.
 

I did not know whether I was intruding his private life. If he never wanted to share his story with me, he would not have bothered to meet me again. They say that a problem shared is a problem solved. He looked at me as if to get an answer from me. The best I could do was to empathise with him. It was too early for me to comment so I had to first of all know his background to understand him better. The big question was what his relationship to Martha was and what went wrong afterwards.
 

"So you never married again?" I asked him.
"I did!"
"Then what?"
"Until my relationship was ended by our dog!"
"WHAAAAAT?"
"I said our dog destroyed our relationship!"
"I still don't get you...wonders will never cease, they will always increase! If you can tell me about your first family...Mr. Zak?"
 

He cleared his throat as he prepared to speak. I noticed that his old fragile hands were trembling as he spoke:-

"My brother and I were born in Zambia in late early forties. All what I can remember is that our mother was working as a cook in one of the colonialist's farm owner. Together with other workers, we used to live in some ramshackle we used to call houses. The worker's meagre wage was not enough to support us and poverty was rampant. Mortality rate with all worker's familys' was very low. Food was scarce and hospitals were very far. As children we only knew starvation. We could eagerly wait for the farm owner's dogs to relieve themselves so that we could find undigested maize from their faeces. Unfortunately, those dogs were mean and tough - just like their owners. They knew we would scavenge on their waste products and so they would come back after doing their thing. Just when we were busy feeding ourselves with undigested maize, they would attack us without notice and leave your tiny body with a scar of a lifetime. The worst you would do was to inform your mum about the attack and what you were doing at the time of attack. It was a very painful time. Another thing, our parents used to work for very many hours. By the time they reached home at night, they were so tired that they had little time for us. We literally brought ourselves up to say the least.
 

Our mum died when my brother and I were nine and seven years respectively. With years I have come to know that she died of poverty related diseases. We were to be adopted by one of the farm owner relatives who had no children of their own. Before adoption process could go through, my brother changed his mind for he hated this arrangement with passion!

Together with some other small village boys, my brother boarded a midnight train to Johannesburg. Their aim was to go to South Africa and be employed as gold miners. I remember escorting him to the train station. He looked at me through the window and he tried to smile. I recall seeing his emaciated little hands wave at me. I watched as the steam train whistled and like a mammoth snake as it cut the ground through hills, rivers and valleys. That was the last time I saw him. I always imagined how he entered in the mine before sunrise and left after sunset. Basically, he and other miners did not have a chance to ever see the sun because they were always buried miles and miles in the ground in the name of mining precious gold. As I am talking to you now, I dont know whether he is dead or alive. I tell you this-poverty is a curse!

My foster parents immigrated to Britain. They were the best people I have ever known. They gave me the best. One of my advantages was that I was good academically. I was a science oriented student especially in Maths, Physics, Chemistry and Biology. I was also good in sports but I never let sports overtake my passion for education.

As years went on, I realised that my foster parents relationship was becoming tense day by day. Unknown to me, the husband was complaining to his wife that he was treating me like a hero. In my absence everything he showed me a very friendly face but once I was gone, he became different. At one time I was sitting for my GCSE exams and instead of encouraging me to read hard, he was telling me to play scramble game with him. I knew this was a calculated move to make me fail.

Through teachers in school, I had an opportunity of taking advantage of scholarship programme aimed for students from developing countries. Soon, I was preparing to go to the then Soviet Union as an undergraduate in Architecture.

Life in Europe for outsiders was very tough by then. I was now in my teens and I had my peer pressure- just like any other teenager. We started drinking hard as a form of escapism from harshness of life. My performance started dropping. Soon my scholarship was discontinued. I was given the option of leaving the University or paying tuition and accommodation for the next academic year.

Just when I had exhausted all avenues of supporting myself, I met a young, teenage girl from Hungary. She was also a student in the same university and she was taking a degree course in agricultural engineering. I was walking along a lonely path when I saw some teenage boys snatch her purse and ran away. On seeing that, I chased them downhill until they dropped it. She got her purse back and her admiration of me and my courage was all over her.
 

We started chatting and soon we became casual friends. To say that she was beautiful was an understatement. As a Hungarian girl, she was beautiful, tall, elegant, had big brown eyes and long black hair. Her boobs were full and her bum looked like it had just been imported from Heaven by first class. Despite her never having taken modelling as a career, she used to walk like one. When she laughed her smile brought a lot of warmth to her nice round cheeks.

For many days, I kept wondering whether I should ask her for a night out but I kept having second thoughts. It was unheard of for an outsider to have a love relationship with a local girl. I had seen a Young man from Nigeria beaten up by other classmates just because of having a relationship with a white girl. Was it worth risking? What if I asked her to be my girl and then she laughed it off? What of all those white guys who were approaching her every now and then? Supposing she knew that I was on my final warning at the University and that I had foster parents who were at the verge of separation? I thought about her over and over. The more I visualised myself and her holding hands and kissing passionately in my room, the more I saw myself in the mortuary waiting to rest in a cemetery. What of all those other guys who wanted a piece of her?!

One day I had gone to the University library and all the seats seemed to have been occupied. I saw an empty seat at one of the corners. As I put my books down...guess who was seated next to me...the same girl I was thinking about. She was overjoyed to see me and I felt like I had won a lottery. I was shaking all over because the girl was just too beautiful and sophisticated for my standard. We talked about Mathematics and she informed me that she was struggling with Probability area. Maths was my best subject and she asked me whether I could help her. Probability topic in Mathematics covers a wide area and so we could not cover everything on day one. Next we talked about life in general. The more we talked the more her body came closer to mine. I literally was moving away further because I did not want to dilute her sophistication. She told me her room number and I told her mine.


It was one Saturday afternoon when I heard a knock on the door. I had taken an afternoon nap and I slowly went to open the door. I slowly opened and I could not believe...What? Whaaaat? I thought I was dreaming....I opened my eyes in amazement and....and...and...Oh! My God!...

JOIN ME IN PART THREE PLEASE

Whispers -  Missing in action!

I don't know your age but what I know is that you have a history - good or bad. Remember that time when you and your siblings lived in the same house as young children. Visualise how you used to be served food together by your mum. See where your bed was situated and that of your brothers and sisters. In the morning it was time to go to school and you all went together after eating breakfast. Can you remember those days?  As time went on, each of you went his own way in search of better life. The truth of the matter is that you will never have another chance of being children again and live as you used to live. Oh! You have one thing in common remaining - You all will die one day, become past tense and you will be covered by soil until the end of the world. Now that you will never have another chance of being a kid, do you wish the clock can be rewinded so that you could treat your siblings better than you did? Do you wish you were a better kid to your parents? Given a chance again, would you do things differently now? Make peace when you have a chance.

The other day I was in the belly of an aeroplane flying at an altitude of 37,000 ft above sea level (Man Man who cares?!). I was in the very last seat in the plane. Your guess is as good as mine. One of my stop over was a former Communist country and I could not wait to see what effect Communism had had on people after all what I have read about that system of Government.

Once in the plane, I looked around and realised that I was the only black man in the plane. I am normally fond of reading books when travelling. After reading for almost an hour, I had the urge of going to the toilet for a call of nature. I don't know of anybody who would ever tell you that he or she is going for a long call of nature. Every self respecting gentleman will always tell you that he wants to go for a short call even if it’s a long, long, long one with shocking, irritating, unpleasant smell that can even confuse a litmus paper. As for now the call of nature that I went for is not important.

I looked around and saw that nobody was using the toilet at that moment. Slowly I moved from my seat and with calculated footsteps marched forward to the toilet which was situated just next to the cockpit area.  I read the notice on the door and it indicated ‘OCCUPIED’.  With disappointment I went back to my seat. I looked around and thought that everyone was looking at me. After about two minutes I was so pressed that I could not wait any longer. I had to go and wait for the occupant to come out. So I waited and waited with the full glare of the other passengers. Soon I heard a quick flush and I knew that my time had come. Thank God!

I eagerly waited for the door to open. When the door was opened, I saw that it was another black man! I said a lukewarm ‘Hello’ and I expected him to reply to me. Instead he looked at me in bewilderment and opened his mouth wide and wider, and wider and widest he could. He made to greet me and I greeted him. He tried to say something to me but anytime words tried to come out of his mouth, he became tongue tied, still holding my hand. A felt a firm grip of my hand and I felt as though he had blocked my veins from supplying precious blood that nature has given me freely.  At this moment, I was totally confused of what was happening. What had I put myself into? Why all this drama in the plane of all the other places? 

‘Hello mate, they call me Man Man,’ I said to defuse the tension and anger that was building up.

‘I know!’ He said as he looked at me from head to toe.

‘You know what? I have got to use the toilet. Let off my hand NOW!’ I said after I realised that the man was not in a hurry to let me go. I used force to free myself from the slight detention. I quickly entered into the toilet and did my number one (of course it has to be number one!) After I was through, I opened the toilet and headed straight to my seat. I realised that man was seated some few seats from the toilet. I continued reading my book so as to forget the ugly episode that had happened a few minutes ago. Occasionally, I could raise my head to look around the plane and guess who I could see? The same, same man looking at me! I could then look at him with the hope that he would be ashamed and look elsewhere. The more I looked at him the more now stared at me.

Something in me was telling me to wake up and give him a piece of my mind but I held back. You must admit that when you are in the plane, you are in the skies and if anything happens and your name is not written in the book of life, you soul will reach devil Lucifer earlier than the rest.

Soon the flight captain announced that we would were making the last descent and we would be in Budapest in fifteen minutes. From the air, I was mesmerised by the beauty of Budapest. The city sits well with good historical architectural design just like the city of London. On either side of the city is a spectacular a 3,500 km long river Danube (pronounced as Daniu) which runs through seven countries including Germany.

We had now landed at Budapest airport and everyone was busy with his bags on the departure lounge. I noticed that the same man was following me closely with his mighty bag behind him. Anytime I thought of the man, dark cloud engulfed my mind. Could this man be a detective? If he was a detective, so what had I done that I did not know? Was he possibly-gay? Why look at a member of the same gender as if he has just landed from the moon? Supposing he was my long lost relative...but then why not just talk?

The driver who was supposed to pick me up from the airport was held up in traffic and so I had to wait for a while.  I saw the same man now make his way to where I was. For one I was not going to greet him this time rest he detained my hand again. I now looked at him in anger.

‘Can I help you Sir?’ I asked in order to block any introduction.

‘Certainly!’ He said as he cleared his throat.

‘Okay, now go on...’

‘I was wondering whether we can share a cab thus share the cost to the city,’ he said.

 ‘Sorry mate, I have a feeling that you have a weird character. Never in a million years can I share anything with YOU! Why were you staring at me like that in the plane? What is wrong with YOU? Act your age! Do you know how embarrassed you made me feel when you held my hand?!!’ I exclaimed.

I think that was not the answer that the man was expecting. On hearing my version, the man looked down and tears swelled on his old eyes. He looked up and stroked his long thin white goatee as tears fell from his eyes.

‘Okay then, supposing I pay for the taxi myself and we go together?’ he asked not knowing whether I would erupt like a volcano.

‘The answer is NO!’

‘Unfortunately, I am mistaken everywhere I go. I wish you knew that my integrity is beyond reproach,’ he said.

I was still within the vicinity of the departure lounge when I saw a white man park his car and carry a paper with big letters with my name on it. I stopped him and introduced myself. He put my bags in the boot of the car and off we went. We were soon on the main road away from the airport. I saw the old man wave his hands at us. I ignored him and went on to chat with the driver.

The Chauffer informed me that we were now passing through the Pest side. I was surprised to realise that Budapest is a made of two cities, Buda and Pest. The two cities are demarcated by river Danube just like river Thames cuts through the city of London. My hotel was situated on the Buda side.  After about half an hour I was making my way to my hotel room.

I was watching world cup at night when I remembered the old man. The big question was; why was he behaving the way he was behaving? Could he be suffering from kind of a mental problem? Was it Godly for me to talk to him the way I talked? Supposing he was in problems and God led him to me? Did God plan it that I would change someone’s life in a foreign country?  Did I miss a golden opportunity to do God’s work by being stubborn? Did I by any chance fail to make peace with someone when I had a chance? At night I tossed from side to side. I felt so guilty because of being judgemental towards the old man, old enough to be my father. By the way, supposing he knew me? Oh God! Deep sense of guilt occupied my mind. In the middle of the night I woke up and said a small prayer. I asked God for forgiveness as I prayed for the old man. From my position to wherever he was, we formed a triangular relationship with God at the Apex. I also asked God to see to it that my mission was a success.

I woke up the following day. I loved the city and its people. I have never seen such beautiful people like Hungarians. I found them to be well mannered, polite and very loving. They have in them a lovely complexion and when their faces come into contact with the summer sun, they look like Angels. I decided to take a City tour to familiarise myself with the city. I like talking to people but unfortunately most of the people I spoke to knew little or no English at all. From the Hotel, I booked a cab to take me to city centre. As I waited for the bus, I saw a tall black old man walk past on the other side of the road. It was the old man in the plane! Without hesitation, I whistled at him. He stopped briefly, looked at me, ignored me and continued his way. How could I let such an opportunity pass? I had to say sorry and know the man. I dashed across the road. The old man smiled and waited for me.

‘Hey, you look familiar!’ I said to him.

‘You are the man who insulted me yesterday. God be with you,’ he said as he made to go.

I could not believe it. I don’t remember the last time I insulted someone although somewhere in life and business, I come across despicable characters whose trademark is arguments and insults. What a waste of life! Talk of poor upbringing, maybe lack of proper education or just personality disorder.

I needed to explain to him that I am a self respecting gentleman. I asked him whether we could enter into a nearby hotel and have a chat. He was okay with that.

I introduced myself again and explained to him what I was doing in the city.

‘Young man, I forgive you, maybe you are just excited because of being in a foreign country. When you were in your mummy’s belly, I was a University student in Russia,’ he said.

‘Yes, go on, tell me more...what exactly are you doing here now?’ I asked

‘I have come to see my daughter-in-law and grandchildren. In fact I have never seen them in real life. Only in the photos they send me,’ he said.

‘You have never seen them and you have been living in Europe?’

‘Not even them, I have never seen my OWN SON?’ he said as he wiped away some tears.

‘You have never seen even your OWN SON. Are you serious?’

He opened his wallet and removed a passport sized photograph of a young man in his late twenties or mid thirties. He was of mixed race with short black hair.

‘Here look this is my son, a son I have never seen!’

‘They say that it is only mountains that do not meet. At last you will meet today. God is good!’ I re-assured him.

‘No my son will not come. I have no chance of seeing him again. He died early this year. He had a car crash on that bridge there,’ he said as he pointed at one of the mighty bridge bridges that connect Pest and Buda side.

‘How comes you never got to know one another? Did you have a chance?’

‘Of course I did’

‘Then what?’

‘It’s a very long story. Now my guests can arrive any time. Can we meet here tomorrow, same time? I got to go,’ he said.

‘Okay then forget everything; tell me, why did you react that way towards me on the plane?’

‘I know you will understand, trust me. I will tell you tomorrow’, he said as he made to go.

I watched him square his shoulders and disappear among the buildings. I could not wait to meet him the following day and tell me more. But the big question was why was he so attached to me when we were in the plane?

***************JOIN ME IN PART TWO PLEASE*****************

A whisper from London (Wake up and smell the coffee!)

June 21 2010 at 12:47 AM                                                                      Man Man

If someone came to me and told me to wake up and smell the coffee, I would not rebuke the devil in him but I will have a cause to worry. I would go back to the drawing board and think of what is happening that my eyes cannot see while every right thinking male African can see. What could that issue be that my ears cannot hear? There are so many things that are happening in this world yet some of us cannot see anything when the writing is on the wall. You have got to change your lifestyle because circumstances have changed. Its about time you transformed your thinking otherwise you are hiding your head in the sand. By the time you remove that head of yours from the sand; other people will have gone to the moon and come back. Wake up and smell the coffee!
 

Perhaps I should explain about the origin of coffee. A farmer in Ethiopia was grazing his goats in the field. After his goats ate some berries, he noticed that they were acting strangely. Strange in the sense that they were acting like they had acquired a lot of energy from some source. I am assuming that there were he-goats involved so one does not need to be a rocket scientist to know where the newly acquired energy was direct to. The farmer decided to eat the wild berries too and he was also full of energy and stimulation. He looked at the berries and saw that they were good. Next he passed the word round to the other villagers about the strange wild berries that were stimulants. The farmers started small scale farming of coffee before embarking on large scale and even exporting the commodity to Europe and Asia and the rest of the world. As I am writing this article, I am drinking my coffee and I have no intention of behaving like a he-goat because I do not want to miss Heaven like some other Londoners that I know.

When I arrived in the western countries, I noticed that the rate of divorce and separation is higher than where I was born and brought up. It is like the devil of relationships works overtime. Your wife in Africa was those naive wives who could not hurt a fly but wait she arrived in the west and started earning dollars, Euros or pounds... She now showed you her true colours. Behind that naive woman who could answer when you coughed was an angry ferocious animal while in the spotlight. In Africa, she used to swear by the gods of that hill in your village that she would never look at another man in a manner likely to suggest that she could break a certain vital commandment. Unknown to you, that commandment was broken one day when she told you that she was going for a waking night, sleep in and out and back to front. Dont believe about all training in botany and tomato at her place of work. It could be a fertile ground for meeting with her lover. After nine months she will bring forth a bouncing baby boy or girl (courtesy of another man). After the baby is born, she will start telling you how the baby looks exactly like you...haaki! In reality, the baby resembles you just as a monkey resembles a chimpanzee. Wake up and smell the coffee my brodah woh! Welcome to the west!

For how long are you going to live like a slave? Slavery ended and so was apartheid. Even Berlin wall is long gone. Wake up and transform your character! These days we are living are tough days. Dont say YES to everybody. Be a good listener and speak less. We have people in our midst who are very manipulative, so cunning and always ready to cut your legs! People kill each other for sport. I have said in the past that there are some people you should just do away with. I know we that we have some very good people in our midst but some are wolves in sheeps clothing. Have you ever realised that sometimes it is very hard to find genuine friends in the west? There is nothing wrong with putting a lot of passwords in your life to those people you call friends. Its not even a crime to just have casual friends. The best friends are your nuclear family. If you are in good terms with your spouse and your children, you are safe. Are you aware that some church goers in your church come to church to show off fancy cars and clothing or hairstyles? Forget those nice testimonies and all that good singing and telling your neighbour this and that! Just know in your mind that human beings are like turn-coats. What you see and hear is not what you get!

For you women, I have got a message for you. There is power in you that can drive your husband away. You are nagging, irritating and a very unpleasant person to live with. When you hear that a certain couple has gone separate ways, what comes to your mind? Do you know that the devil of relationships in the west could be very busy mapping out strategies of destroying your home? Have you ever wondered why Baba watoto has got very little to say to you? Has anybody ever told you that you are behaving like wanawake wa ulaya? towards your husband? Are you a smart looking lady who can command respect? Your hubby is made of fresh and blood and he comes across more beautiful ladies every day. He could be with you just because of the children that both of you have together. Dont let your relationship end up just like the other western made relationships. Think kindly of that husband of yours because there are hyenas there. If you are not careful, you might be in the statistics of single ladies during the next world cup. Its about time you put your family in Gods hands and tell the devil to leave you alone. Wake up!

I cry for our black children especially boys. What comes to your mind when you read or hear that black boys have been involved in knife crime? What about their poor performance in our schools? Not even that- low self esteem! As a parent what do you do? Do you take time to talk to your children about life or you and Mama Watoto are always quarrelling over stupid issues? We owe our children a duty of care and history might judge us very harshly if we just let them grow without any direction. For those of you who neglected their children, may God reward you accordingly.

Its a fact that faith based schools perform better than other schools. If you know that, what are you doing about it? I have heard people say that they cannot change their church because of education. Remember that it is not about you but your children. You can go for your all night prayer meeting, sing and dance and rebuke the devil, speak in tongues and perform signs and wonders but what of your kids? Catholic schools perform better in your area, take your kids there. Let them join the other champions. If they pray our living God, let them join those children in Catholic schools. All in all, you know what is best for them. My advice to you is to just wake up and smell the coffee that if we neglect our black children, our future is in jeopardy.

I understand that your wife and children are somewhere in this wide world. You dont know when you will ever see them. Its a fact that long distant relationships do not work. Your main worry is that the wife you left in Africa could be having a secret relationship. Likewise, her main worry is that there is a skirt-wearer who gives you hot nights in the name of sex. We say that the law of nature must always balance. Ask yourself this question? Since you and your partner were together, have you been in any sexual contact with a member of opposite sex? If the answer is YES then there is a possibility that your partner has had it. What goes round comes around! You are not the only fish in the sea. Ask God for forgiveness so that he can pave way for your better half to join you. He is a merciful God but if you are adulterous, jealous and a bad combination to live with people, I do not see your prayers being answered.

Remember that nothing happens without a reason. There is a reason why your wife cannot join you. Perhaps your wife is those nagging women and God knows that if she arrives in the west, she will give you hell. God wants to protect you and so he will never pave a way for her. On the other hand, you could be those men who think so highly of themselves. Are you those men who have no respect for women? You dont expect what you dont respect and God wants to protect your wife from the devil in you. He will never let your children join you because you are a dictator, so full of yourself. God can see from far that your children will be so fearful of you. While with you, it would be like with a swarm of bees. God wants to bring up champions in your children and there is no way he will let those demons in you come into contact with him. Can you smell the coffee that you fail to get what you pray for because of your poor character?

I dont know you but there is that thing that you pray God to give you. For many years you have cried to God and it seems God does not listen. God is the creator of Heaven and earth and his love for us is unconditional. The clock is ticking fast and time is against you. My grandfather used to tell me that if I would ever reach twenty eight years and I will not talk of a wife and some children somewhere, then I should ask for divine intervention and something must be very wrong socially. Whether he was right or wrong I would not want to say.

Remember that woman you promised to marry and you finally dropped her after wasting all those precious years. You were even blessed with kids and you even abandoned them at the time when they badly needed you? Are you serious when you ask God for a family? Are you out of your mind? Can you celebrate Fathers day? What of that guy that you promised to marry but after arriving in the west, you cut any form of communication? The guy was so depressed when he realised that you were then married to a Mister Chinedu? You always ask God to give you a husband because Mr. Chinedu transformed himself from a good lover to a rapist- say to him every time was tea time come rain, come sunshine or even when moon was shining brightly at the end of the month. Are you serious that you are asking God for a husband? Can you smell a rat that you are the cause of your misery?

Do unto others as you would others do unto you. Whatever you do now will come back to you in the near future. The problems you are currently experiencing are the fruits of what you sowed years back. Wake up and smell the coffee!

Whispers in London (SHUT UP YOUR BIG MOUTH!!!)

April 26 2010 at 2:04 PM                                               Man Man

My God! What a heading! What do you mean-Shut up your big mouth? I mean exactly that-Shut up your big mouth! How would you react if you knew that your name is tarnished every day by someone you know? Have you ever met people who know you very well and all of a sudden they start avoiding you? Why? Because they have been told something about you by those people who claim to know you more than you know them. There are those of us who have to buy acceptance from other people and since they are not so much exposed to life, the only shortcut is to character assassinate their colleagues. They will start with you, then your children, your family members. They have in them the combined balance sheet of all your family members. They know how your people got the wealth they claim to have. Woo unto you if you are on the take-off stage financially. They will claim your wealth is not genuine. Pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew! Watch this space! God save us from such satanic people.

Whatever you do, please be careful with your syntax of your words. Nature knows no jokes. For example if you joke that you are so stressed that your sugar level 'feels' like going up, you will develop diabetes immediately. Be warned and be warned again. Your spoken word has a lot of power. Speak words of wisdom to bless. I am not refuting the fact that there are some of us who own very big heads that mainly carry a mouth which is very destructive. They are always talking about this and other person. They know you inside out and back to front. Ask them who got pregnant when, by who, through what, at what time-they know it! If by any chance you think that people don't talk about you, think twice. Ask your grandmother in Africa whether you were pulled over by Police yesterday and she knows. Courtesy of calling cards which go by the names, 'Talk home, Matrix, Cobra or Globaltel'. How did that happen? Your neighbour from Jamu happened to see you pulled over by Police because you forgot to tax your car. The next thing he did was to buy a calling card and tarnish your name ten thousand miles away. Of course this is after talking about weather, rain and starvation in Jamhuri. To your grandmother, the information she has is that you were caught with cannabis which you were taking with other,'Wakora wa ulaya'. She also knows that you don't work but you depend on selling chang'aa abroad. Don't forget that he is heavily in debt. Instead of thinking how he is going to pay his bills, he is character assassinating you. What happened to fairness? Where are the brother's keepers?

Think of how blessed we are, us people who live in the west? Just go to any library and you see how well stocked the library is. Go to any bookshop like waterstone or WH Smith and see the good books there. Think of the internet, almost everybody is connected to the internet where you can get all the knowledge that you possibly need. Imagine how fast life abroad is, where do people get time to tarnish other people's names? Where do they get all that money to call relatives at home and analyse your life? Next time you send a friend to visit your home in Jamu, you are sending a broadcaster. Once the person you sent is back, he or she will analyse everything he saw in your home. He will even tell people about your cow which needs very little effort to look stupid- just like you! If your family is well up, then you people worship somebody else apart from our living God. My foot! What stupidity?!
 

For you character assassinators and broadcasters, I have got an advice for you. Before then, lets read the following story:-
I happened to have an uncle who lived in a place called Namanga. Namanga is a town on the border between Kenya and Tanzania. From the air the town looks like it is sandwiched mountains on both sides. We all liked to visit our uncle because he was a very generous fellow. If you asked him to buy you anything, his question always was when you wanted it. Our requirements ranged from bubble gum, Big Gs or 'Mad vans'. I personally enjoyed going to no-man's land and closing on the other side of the country. When schools opened, I could tell other boys how I visited Tanzania even if I had entered five meters inside Tanzania's territory.
 

Much as we liked him, we feared his friends. He had a doctor friend who was a surgeon and a 'good circumciser'. At times he could tell all dads and mums in our area that they should not worry about circumcision of their boys because he will come with a good circumciser from Namanga. Not even that, he could pay all circumcision fees. Which villager would hate to save money? One can imagine how the boys of circumcision age felt when they saw our great rich uncle arrive with a 'demonic' circumciser. As I write this article, I am at the edge of my seat when I remember the circumciser during our time. I still remember seeing him come with my uncle at night and telling us to be ready by eight in the morning. I recall praying that he die in his sleep and not live to see another day. Of course my prayers never went beyond my door because come eight the following morning, he was having tea with my parents ready to help us enter manhood na mwendo wa kiaste-aste. Can you see him talking about weather and arrow roots in the table room with his briefcase full of bandages, needles, etc, etc, eg,@£$$...mention it! Let us forget that at the moment.
 

Uncle owned a bar and restaurant, butchery plus some few businesses of importing merchandise from Tanzania. He was earning a relative good income. Many people in Namanga used come for his advice on this and that issue. I guessed that he was well respected because of his human heart.
Back to the story. Uncle's neighbour was an elderly woman who was clocking seventy years. She owned a long stretch of rental houses that formed a big 'U' shape. At the far end of the houses was one big room that she used to live with an equally elderly man who was her husband. In her house was one tiny bed for her. Come night time, the hubby would spread a small mattress on the floor plus some few blankets. I have always wondered why the husband was sleeping on the floor when the wife was sleeping on a bed. What would happen at that hour when the 'Mzee wa Nyumba' wanted to demonstrate the anger of his love to the wife when all his food was well digested? I don't know. Ask me another question!

One day I was resting outside enjoying African sunset. The old lady was on the far end of his plots sitting on a stone. I noticed that she could occasionally look at me. Suddenly our eyes met and I waved at her and she waved back at me. She then raised her frail hand and asked me to join her which I did. To me she looked old and lonely. For one she had no children, only one brother relative who interestingly lived in Malava with his second wife and children. Why was life so unfair to her? Was there more than the eyes could see?

She seemed to be very happy to see me join her.

'How are you young man, you must be Joshua's nephew, isn't it?' she asked.

'Yes, I am, Joshua is my uncle, him and my father are brothers'. I said with an air of importance.

I considered my uncle to be the richest man in the world and I did not mind broadcasting to anybody who cared to listen that I was blood related to him. Moreover, everybody in the village respected him. He had started many projects aimed at helping the poor village folks.
'Thanks mum'

'I understand you are the owner of all those houses, you must be very rich, how does it feel to be a landlady in this part of the world?'
'It feels okay. I am not like some people here...'

'Which people?' I asked not knowing what direction our talks were heading to.

'If some people joke with life, they will die with nothing. I mean nothing! They will die old, childless and very lonely!'
'Meaning what?'

'The only thing they will take to the grave is only their BIG tummies and those tummies have nothing but mafi
'What?!'

'When other men are taking care of their wives and children, others are chasing young girls young enough to be their daughters'

'Mum, I don't get what you are saying, what...who?'

'Young man stop pretending that you don't know who I am referring to,'

'I just came from the village yesterday so I don't know what you are talking about,' I answered.

Just as I was trying to make sense of what the old lady was talking about, a young beautiful lady passed by with two young kids. Interestingly, she called me by name and gave me a firm handshake. I expected her to greet the old woman with me but she did not. She then gave me roasted meat which was from my uncle as she informed me. I was surprised to find that she was a tenant in those houses owned by the old woman.

Young man, mention the devil and it appears! What did I tell you? the old woman said.

I am not getting what you are saying, who is the devil here?

That lady who has given you this meat is the devil. When you see people being too nice to you, dont fall for that. To me she is like a female dog. Look at all her children, do they in any way look like him?

Who is HIM????? ? I asked now completely lost in the whole conversation.

I am telling you that those two children were not fathered by HIM. Who in Namanga does not know that the biological dad was a highway robber who was gunned down by policemen in Shinyanga? This woman is a prostitute, she can even have sex with a dog! Malaya kabisa!

Our conversation was interrupted by a middle aged man who happened to be passing by. He was also her tenant. I noticed his difficulty in walking. Listen to her conversation with him:

Hallo Baba Sekeli? You are so lost my son. How is Nairobi? Aah, aah, poole kwa safari. Feel at home my son. Welcome back, she said as she greeted him one time after another. I thought I was witnessing the coming together of the best friends.

After Baba Sekeli was out of vicinity, I asked the old woman who that person was.

Let me tell you, see the way that man is walking. He was once upon a time walking majestically like you. Look at him now? He came home one night dead drunk and thugs pounced on him. They beat him mercilessly and left him for the dead. In the morning he was found by my husband. He was then taken to the hospital and that is where he recovered. He was useless then and even today, he is more useless! She narrated.

It was getting late and darkness was engulfing the sky. I had to go and cook for my uncle because he was due to arrive any minute. We bid each other good night and each went his/her way.

It was wonderful being at Namanga. I enjoyed seeing tourists coming and going, seeing Masai women selling curios and pick pockets thieves having a wonderful day with tourists. I was moving around when my path met again with the same old woman. I decided to ask her who she referred to when she was talking about HIM.
You mean you dont know who I was talking about. I was talking about Joshua your uncle. That lady who gave you meat is his girlfriend who cheats him that those children are his!

Whaaat? Whaaaaaat? My uncle has a girlfriend? A girlfriend with two children?

I could not believe it. All what I knew was that my uncles wife and children lived in our village and they were very comfortable. I did not know what to say. I just laughed and laughed it off. Everyone respected my uncle for he was a man of wisdom. So what if he had a girlfriend?

Hang on a minute! What of her referring my uncle as one person who will die old, childless and lonely? How about telling me that my uncle will just take his big fat tummy full of faeces to the grave? I sensed character assassination here. My gut instinct told me that the old lady was not a good person. Considering her advanced age, how comes she had no friends? What happened to her children? Why on earth was her husband sleeping on the floor and his secret part of the anatomy was alive and kicking?

For the remainder part of the holiday, I decided to avoid her as much as I could. However, one of my principles in life is to try and have a positive impact on people I come into contact with. Maybe I should talk to her and convince her to see people from another angle? Could there be a possibility that I was sent to her by God to transform her thinking on her sunset days? Maybe.
 

It was one Sunday evening when I decided to join her on the same spot where she was tarnishing peoples names. She was more than happy to see me. I think I was her only friend. She even offered to lift a small stone so that I could sit near her. I asked her not to do it because I was strong and healthy. She ignored me and went ahead to drag it. For the next two minutes, she was not talking, just looking at me.
 

I broke the silence by talking to her.
So, tell me about your early life, say where you were born, your growing up, etc, etc

She just looked at me then...silence. Another long silence. Five minutes gone, no talking!

After about ten minutes, I realised that something must have been wrong somewhere. It was unlike her to just keep quiet like that.

I decided to call some people in her plot and asked them whether that was her usual behaviour. Soon the surgeon was called and she was taken to hospital. She stayed in the hospital for a very long time. She was later discharged but with total loss of speech. She could not talk only do gestures. She had developed stroke. After some few months she died and was buried in a cemetery in Namanga. It is now twenty years gone. She had all the chances to have good relationship with people and she never did. One would ask why she could not look around and see how blessed she was to live all those years. From her experience in life, why could she not at least bless people? Why let her hubby sleep on the floor instead of letting the hubby drive her coldness away

You people who go tarnishing other peoples names, I have got a word for you. The more you tarnish names, the more your days to the grave are coming nearer. You want to hide your weakness by character assassinating people. You are a person with little education and you want people to know how intelligent you are. The best you can do is to make sure that you open your mouth so wide so as to be noticed. You have approval addiction and you are craving for acceptance. You walk in your room and convince yourself that you are so sexy and nice. To his dog, every man is Napoleon. You are no Napoleon, you are a small kitten. Not even that, you think you are the second best person after creation of Adam. Get a life! Think of that woman who died old, childless and lonely. You have got to have another mindset otherwise you are cursed. Once you tarnish someones name, you cannot take back what you have said even if you go and confess in the church. Why do you think that every day is a nightmare to you? Have you ever wondered why when the sudden wave of luck is sweeping across the world, you dont benefit? Ever wondered why you struggle with things that come so naturally to mankind? The reason is because of the quality of what comes from your mouth. Do you want to attract Gods blessings? Do us a favour then: SHUT UP YOUR BIG MOUTH!!!!!

Whispers from London (When life gives you a lemon, make a lemonade)

March 28 2010 at 9:57 PM Man Man Man Man  

There are those of us who see no evil, hear no evil and will 'never' do any evil. Even when they walk, they walk in a specific way of walking because walking is not just a matter of lifting one leg and then the other. They hate noise and when talking they talk slowly so as not to awaken the night runners they left behind many years in 'captivity'. How about when they are eating? They eat in a holy manner, so holy so that when talking to you, they occasionally close their eyes because they are ashamed of the demons in you. Man Man is here to tell you that those are liars. To you who see or hear no evil, listen to this: You are just a bunch of hypocrites! Woo unto you hypocrites! Again; woo unto you hypocrites!

Man Man, that’s a bit rude! I know. Let’s assume that you are not deluded that all is okay in life and reality has hit you proper, what do you do? What do you do when matters have turned against you and you are asking yourself who showed the devil your place? Just the other day you were loaded with cash and now you are poor, what went wrong? Your business was doing well and now creditors are baying for your blood... You were always parading your spouse for all to see what a good catch you have...The spouse has left you. Rumors have it that the spouse has another more beautiful or handsome person as the new find. Not even that, the boyfriend/girlfriend to your ex-spouse is even more educated and has a body befitting a movie star unlike you who owns a special tyre along your waist line. Weeh Kweeeenda! You feel like committing suicide innit? Stop there! There is hope. Life has just given you a lemon, its time to make a lemonade. Are we together? Read on: -

I have told you before that my best time was when I owned my first pay slip. Owning a pay slip meant that come end month, I could get some legal tenders and those legal enders could allow me rent my own house, go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted and date whoever my eyes liked.

Being single and searching, I rented a relatively good one bedroom house in the outskirts of the city. In the plot where I rented my house were some other tenants whose houses were bigger depending on their financial might. We all used to share one common gate. My first impression was that the tenants were people of good character, ambition and focus. I had never been a tenant before and my hope and prayer was that I was going to fit quickly in the new environment.

The first two weeks were okay. Every tenant used to mind his/her own business. The majority of the people used to go to work in the morning and come at night. Men could visit bars where they could meet other men and update each other on what was going on in political and social issues. African style isn't it? My experience was that it was a 'taboo' to just leave other 'wazees' in bar and go home. There was one obvious sarcastic remark:
"So Baba Jimmy you are going home early because you are afraid that if you fail to go home early Mama Jimmy will lose her heat!” A gynecologist would call it - loss of libido.

Back to our plot. There were about three women from three different families who were not working as others went to work. One of them was heavily pregnant and had a small girl child who was barely two years. Her name was Mama Joan. The husband was a guy of medium built, dark and handsome. He used to wear expensive suits, had a good car and a good business in the city. He was a guy every woman would fall in love with. Come Saturdays, he would hold intelligent conversations on certain issues with me. I noticed that other men in the compound avoided him like Plague. I know my limits and I believe that even the worst person has got his human nature at times. Unfortunately, interesting as his conversations were, he would at times cut you in the middle of your conversations. Even today, I find this pretty annoying. Another thing, when drank, he could occasionally go out of topic and discuss very personal intimate issues and expect you to answer when his wife is passing by. Hear him one Saturday morning when his wife is walking around.

"ManMan, I think it’s about time the Government makes it a law that every man should have not less than two wives. Look at my wife Mama Joan...Just...have look; see how age is catching up with her. I tell you that she is not able to satisfy me these days...she is now past tense and I am present continuous! What do you think? Eel, say something bwana even if it means coughing to remove cobwebs in your mouth!” On hearing that, the wife looked down in embarrassment, went straight into her house and cried uncontrollably. Don't forget that she was pregnant and she could give birth any time. What a careless talk!

One Friday afternoon I had come earlier than usual from work. I heard Mama Joan crying. Quickly, I went to her house and found her lying on the floor groaning. On asking what the matter was, she told me that her EDD had arrived. The problem was that she had no means of going to hospital. I organized a taxi and I phoned one of my relatives and we took her to hospital.

She was admitted and after thirty minutes, she delivered a bouncing baby girl. She was to stay for some few days in the hospital. We were relieved. It was around midnight and when we decided to go back home. We knocked the door to her house and to our amazement; the hubby was in the house - asleep! Asleep?! We hid our anger by first telling him the good news first -the birth of his second daughter.

"What? Another baby girl? A girl, why not a boy? I knew, I knew, a useless woman like her cannot be blessed with a boy!" he exclaimed.

"Let’s talk tomorrow then, conglats..." I said.
"Congratulations for what? For another baby girl?. You are joking!" he said.

After one week or so, Mama Joan was discharged with her baby. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. She now had two little daughters. As time passed, I noticed that she was losing weight and she was walking with a limp. Since the birth of her second kid, her husband had become abusive. He could create a quarrel from anything. He could come late at night and wake her up, that they must discuss about her first boyfriend who she said hello to when met in the street. He would go on asking what they were discussing, why she said hello in the first place...The second day would be why she was only giving birth to girls not boys- Next day was why her bum is not as full as that of Mama Kanjonge? Exit one week and another issue would crop up, this time why her brother is more black than charcoal, whether Mama Joan's mother had a one night stand with a male African monkey. arguments could sometimes turn into physical fights. Yes, beating a lady who had just given birth!

I happened to be on my annual leave one time. This meant that I was not going to work like the other tenants. I was relaxing outside basking in the African sun. Mama Joan saw me and she came out. Her face brightened and we started chatting.
"Manman, I am very thankful for taking me to Hospital that day. You saved my day. May God bless you forever", she said.

"Never mind, never mind. Your kid is just like my kid, I was just doing my duty", I said.
"So has Baba Joan said THANK YOU to you?", she asked.
"Oh yes, the same day!" I lied. In fact he went straight into complaining that the baby was a girl.

"I think God hates me. I regret the day I met Baba Joan. How I wish I can rewind the clock!" She said.

"Why?" I asked attentively.
"Look, I have become a laughing stock. My hubby always finds faults with me. To him, a wife is there to argue with, to settle points and compete...stupid man he is!" She said.
"Supposing you were to rewind the clock, would you choose him?" I asked.
"God! God! Never, NEEEEEVER...over my dead body!" She exclaimed.
"You sound so adamant, so sure...!"

"Yes, are you aware that by you people helping me to take me to Hospital, he was telling me the other day that you were taking me because you could be the father to my baby...that my baby looks like you? The next day he said that the baby looked like our priest...! Just imagine! What kind of a guy would not listen to his wife? Which man cannot compliment his wife or its just demeaning her all the time?".
"Well...I am lost for words! You don't argue with a fool, do you? Just let him talk and talk and then go to sleep!" I said to her.

"ManMan, give me an advice. I can't live like this. The other day he came and asked to have sex with me. I told him to wait because I have just been from maternity, do you know what he did?"

"No!"
"He forced himself into me! Anytime he 'entered', it was like he was announcing to the whole world;
'F**K' YOU!, who do you think you are?. Raise your legs properly, yes; there...there...Shikoh knows everything!' (Shikoh is her thirteen year old sister who had come to visit her and was sleeping in the next room...Yaawa!)

I seriously empathized with her situation. This was a dog's life! I advised her to look for a Job so that she would empower herself financially. I was surprised to realize that she was a qualified bilingual secretary. Her French and German were excellent. Her husband wanted her to be a housewife so that she could be dependent on her. He could then manipulate her in any way he wanted. Before they met, Mama Joan had a good Joan in the city and she was in fact learning how to drive a car. Her hubby cunningly advised her to stay at home not to learn how to drive because she could be hijacked on the motorway. Again, this was another case of manipulation!

Incidentally, I knew that our Company wanted a Bilingual Secretary. I asked her whether she would be interested and she could not believe it. I asked her to apply for the Position. She did and she got employed. Her position included a good medical cover for her and the children plus a good pension scheme.

For one, she had to believe in her own powers. She had to come out of her shell. I advised her to consider herself worthy of good things the world had to offer. Her husband was not a God, neither her mum nor dad. Her hubby was a bully and a very bad combination to live with. I asked her to tell her hubby that she had gotten a Job and she was going to do it whether he liked or not.

Of course the hubby could hear none of that. He asked her to either choose her Job or to vacate his house. She chose to vacate with her children. I explained her circumstances to my boss and she was advanced some money to settle. The first three months were a problem but after that all was okay. With time she was promoted. Her emoluments included free company car, entertainment allowance, free housing and two air tickets to any destination in the world. With time one of the Regional directors fell in love with her and they got married. It is now ten fifteen years since she re-organized her life again, got married and has two more children. Together, they have property in Africa, Europe and America. Their Company has branches in five continents with about 6,500 employees around the globe. In addition, Mama Joan and her new hubby have several children orphanages around the world for helping destitute children. They usually set aside 10% of their profits to fund the orphanages.

As a result of all this, some people would accuse me of being a home breaker. Fair enough. If home breaking is saving a young lady and her children from early grave, then let it be. If home breaking is advising someone to have a better mindset and see herself as a winner and win in the process, let it be! With her husband, life had given Mama Joan a Lemon. By getting a Job and subsequently getting someone who loved her unconditionally, she made lemonade. Today, those 6,500 employees are earning their daily bread from her efforts. Would she rather be at home getting herself raped because, 'Shikoh knows everything?' Wewe waacha!

You have tried everything to save your relationship, nothing doing. Do not sink with your spouse. You are in the west and you are physically abused. Shame on you! Tell some one to act on your behalf! Who said that you have to have a wife or hubby to be a person? I like family unit but sometimes you do not have to die before your time to save your relationship. The more your children are in the centre of an abusive relationship is the worse their self esteem is becoming. You are killing a generation.

I am convinced that there was a goddess in Mama Joan. There was a genius in her and a champion in her soul. Her hubby knew that there was a giant inside her. Instead of supporting her to unleash her full potential, he made sure that her self esteem was completely eroded. She was abused physically and mentally. God sends Angels because I came in her life just when she needed me. Talk of that infinite intelligence in the universe!

You are in business partnership with a colleague and he makes your life a misery. Its always arguments, arguments and you are grown ups. Know what you can do better than that. Start another business on your own and ask God to give you clients. When you get high profile clients of your own in a high profile area, know that that is the hand of GOD. Give a seed of 10% of your income as a THANK YOU gesture to church or people in need. Your business colleague has always seen you as, 'Someone who is there because he is there' but when you go to the bank, smile as you see the thousands of pounds, US dollars or Euros credited to your account. No evil shall befall a good man in this world or the next, said Socrates.

No person or situation should pull you down. You are a child of the most high God. Wise men say that A BIG OBSTACLE CAN BE STEPPING STONES TO BETTER THINGS. They also say that WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU A LEMON, MAKE A LEMONADE.

Whispers from London ( When life gives you a lemon, make a lemonade)

March 28 2010 at 9:57 PM Man Man Man Man  

There are those of us who see no evil, hear no evil and will 'never' do any evil. Even when they walk, they walk in a specific way of walking because walking is not just a matter of lifting one leg and then the other. They hate noise and when talking they talk slowly so as not to awaken the night runners they left behind many years in 'captivity'. How about when they are eating? They eat in a holy manner, so holy so that when talking to you, they occasionally close their eyes because they are ashamed of the demons in you. Man Man is here to tell you that those are liars. Life is full of ups and downs and if you are always laughing, you are a potential candidate of a Mental Health Hospital. To you who see or hear no evil, listen to this: You are just a bunch of hypocrites! Woo unto you hypocrites! Again; woo unto you hypocrites!

Man Man, that’s a bit rude! I know. Let’s assume that you are not deluded that all is okay in life and reality has hit you proper, what do you do? What do you do when matters have turned against you and you are asking yourself who showed the devil your place? Just the other day you were loaded with cash and now you are poor, what went wrong? Your business was doing well and now creditors are baying for your blood... You were always parading your spouse for all to see what a good catch you have...The spouse has left you. Rumors have it that the spouse has another more beautiful or handsome person as the new find. Not even that, the boyfriend/girlfriend to your ex-spouse is even more educated and has a body befitting a movie star unlike you who owns a special tyre along your waist line. Weeh Kweeeenda! You feel like committing suicide innit? Stop there! There is hope. Life has just given you a lemon, its time to make a lemonade. Are we together? Read on: -

I have told you before that my best time was when I owned my first pay slip. Owning a pay slip meant that come end month, I could get some legal tenders and those legal enders could allow me rent my own house, go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted and date whoever my eyes liked.

Being single and searching, I rented a relatively good one bedroom house in the outskirts of the city. In the plot where I rented my house were some other tenants whose houses were bigger depending on their financial might. We all used to share one common gate. My first impression was that the tenants were people of good character, ambition and focus. I had never been a tenant before and my hope and prayer was that I was going to fit quickly in the new environment.

The first two weeks were okay. Every tenant used to mind his/her own business. The majority of the people used to go to work in the morning and come at night. Men could visit bars where they could meet other men and update each other on what was going on in political and social issues. African style isn't it? My experience was that it was a 'taboo' to just leave other 'wazees' in bar and go home. There was one obvious sarcastic remark:
"So Baba Jimmy you are going home early because you are afraid that if you fail to go home early Mama Jimmy will lose her heat!” A gynecologist would call it - loss of libido.

Back to our plot. There were about three women from three different families who were not working as others went to work. One of them was heavily pregnant and had a small girl child who was barely two years. Her name was Mama Joan. The husband was a guy of medium built, dark and handsome. He used to wear expensive suits, had a good car and a good business in the city. He was a guy every woman would fall in love with. Come Saturdays, he would hold intelligent conversations on certain issues with me. I noticed that other men in the compound avoided him like Plague. I know my limits and I believe that even the worst person has got his human nature at times. Unfortunately, interesting as his conversations were, he would at times cut you in the middle of your conversations. Even today, I find this pretty annoying. Another thing, when drank, he could occasionally go out of topic and discuss very personal intimate issues and expect you to answer when his wife is passing by. Hear him one Saturday morning when his wife is walking around.

"ManMan, I think it’s about time the Government makes it a law that every man should have not less than two wives. Look at my wife Mama Joan...Just...have look; see how age is catching up with her. I tell you that she is not able to satisfy me these days...she is now past tense and I am present continuous! What do you think? Eel, say something bwana even if it means coughing to remove cobwebs in your mouth!” On hearing that, the wife looked down in embarrassment, went straight into her house and cried uncontrollably. Don't forget that she was pregnant and she could give birth any time. What a careless talk!

One Friday afternoon I had come earlier than usual from work. I heard Mama Joan crying. Quickly, I went to her house and found her lying on the floor groaning. On asking what the matter was, she told me that her EDD had arrived. The problem was that she had no means of going to hospital. I organized a taxi and I phoned one of my relatives and we took her to hospital.

She was admitted and after thirty minutes, she delivered a bouncing baby girl. She was to stay for some few days in the hospital. We were relieved. It was around midnight and when we decided to go back home. We knocked the door to her house and to our amazement; the hubby was in the house - asleep! Asleep?! We hid our anger by first telling him the good news first -the birth of his second daughter.

"What? Another baby girl? A girl, why not a boy? I knew, I knew, a useless woman like her cannot be blessed with a boy!" he exclaimed.
"Let’s talk tomorrow then, conglats..." I said.
"Congratulations for what? For another baby girl?. You are joking!" he said.

After one week or so, Mama Joan was discharged with her baby. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. She now had two little daughters. As time passed, I noticed that she was losing weight and she was walking with a limp. Since the birth of her second kid, her husband had become abusive. He could create a quarrel from anything. He could come late at night and wake her up, that they must discuss about her first boyfriend who she said hello to when met in the street. He would go on asking what they were discussing, why she said hello in the first place...The second day would be why she was only giving birth to girls not boys- Next day was why her bum is not as full as that of Mama Kanjonge? Exit one week and another issue would crop up, this time why her brother is more black than charcoal, whether Mama Joan's mother had a one night stand with a male African monkey. arguments could sometimes turn into physical fights. Yes, beating a lady who had just given birth!

I happened to be on my annual leave one time. This meant that I was not going to work like the other tenants. I was relaxing outside basking in the African sun. Mama Joan saw me and she came out. Her face brightened and we started chatting.

"Manman, I am very thankful for taking me to Hospital that day. You saved my day. May God bless you forever", she said.

"Never mind, never mind. Your kid is just like my kid, I was just doing my duty", I said.
"So has Baba Joan said THANK YOU to you?", she asked.

"Oh yes, the same day!" I lied. In fact he went straight into complaining that the baby was a girl.

"I think God hates me. I regret the day I met Baba Joan. How I wish I can rewind the clock!" She said.
"Why?" I asked attentively.

"Look, I have become a laughing stock. My hubby always finds faults with me. To him, a wife is there to argue with, to settle points and compete...stupid man he is!" She said.
"Supposing you were to rewind the clock, would you choose him?" I asked.

"God! God! Never, NEEEEEVER...over my dead body!" She exclaimed.
"You sound so adamant, so sure...!"

"Yes, are you aware that by you people helping me to take me to Hospital, he was telling me the other day that you were taking me because you could be the father to my baby...that my baby looks like you? The next day he said that the baby looked like our priest...! Just imagine! What kind of a guy would not listen to his wife? Which man cannot compliment his wife or its just demeaning her all the time?".

"Well...I am lost for words! You don't argue with a fool, do you? Just let him talk and talk and then go to sleep!" I said to her.
"ManMan, give me an advice. I can't live like this. The other day he came and asked to have sex with me. I told him to wait because I have just been from maternity, do you know what he did?"

"No!"

"He forced himself into me! Anytime he 'entered', it was like he was announcing to the whole world;
'F**K' YOU!, who do you think you are?. Raise your legs properly, yes; there...there...Shikoh knows everything!' (Shikoh is her thirteen year old sister who had come to visit her and was sleeping in the next room...Yaawa!)

I seriously empathized with her situation. This was a dog's life! I advised her to look for a Joan so that she would empower herself financially. I was surprised to realize that she was a qualified bilingual secretary. Her French and German were excellent. Her husband wanted her to be a housewife so that she could be dependent on her. He could then manipulate her in any way he wanted. Before they met, Mama Joan had a good Joan in the city and she was in fact learning how to drive a car. Her hubby cunningly advised her to stay at home not to learn how to drive because she could be hijacked on the motorway. Again, this was another case of manipulation!

Incidentally, I knew that our Company wanted a Bilingual Secretary. I asked her whether she would be interested and she could not believe it. I asked her to apply for the Position. She did and she got employed. Her position included a good medical cover for her and the children plus a good pension scheme.

For one, she had to believe in her own powers. She had to come out of her shell. I advised her to consider herself worthy of good things the world had to offer. Her husband was not a God, neither her mum nor dad. Her hubby was a bully and a very bad combination to live with. I asked her to tell her hubby that she had gotten a Joan and she was going to do it whether he liked or not.

Of course the hubby could hear none of that. He asked her to either choose her Joan or to vacate his house. She chose to vacate with her children. I explained her circumstances to my boss and she was advanced some money to settle. The first three months were a problem but after that all was okay. With time she was promoted. Her emoluments included free company car, entertainment allowance, free housing and two air tickets to any destination in the world. With time one of the Regional directors fell in love with her and they got married. It is now ten fifteen years since she re-organized her life again, got married and has two more children. Together, they have property in Africa, Europe and America. Their Company has branches in five continents with about 6,500 employees around the globe.

As a result of all this, some people would accuse me of being a home breaker. Fair enough. If home breaking is saving a young lady and her children from early grave, then let it be. If home breaking is advising someone to have a better mindset and see herself as a winner and win in the process, let it be! With her husband, life had given Mama Joan a Lemon. By getting a Joan and subsequently getting someone who loved her unconditionally, she made lemonade. Today, those 6,500 employees are earning their daily bread from her efforts. Would she rather be at home getting herself raped because, 'Shikoh knows everything?' Wewe waacha!

You have tried everything to save your relationship, nothing doing. Do not sink with your spouse. You are in the west and you are physically abused. Shame on you! Tell some one to act on your behalf! Who said that you have to have a wife or hubby to be a person? I like family unit but sometimes you do not have to die before your time to save your relationship. The more your children are in the centre of an abusive relationship is the worse their self esteem is becoming. You are killing a generation.

You are in business partnership with a colleague and he makes your life a misery. Its always arguments, arguments and you are grown ups. Know what you can do better than that. Start another business on your own and ask God to give you clients. When you get high profile clients of your own in a high profile area, know that that is the hand of GOD. Give a seed of 10% of your income as a THANK YOU gesture to church or people in need. Your business colleague has always seen you as, 'Someone who is there because he is there' but when you go to the bank, smile as you see the thousands of pounds, US dollars or Euros credited to your account. No evil shall befall a good man in this world or the next, said Socrates.

No person or situation should pull you down. You are a child of the most high God. Wise men say that A BIG OBSTACLE CAN BE STEPPING STONES TO BETTER THINGS. They also say that WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU A LEMON, MAKE A LEMONADE.

Whispers in London (You don't expect what you don't respect)

March 15 2010 at 12:33 AM                                                                                        Man Man

You have ever seen people gathered somewhere celebrating birthdays or weddings. The first thing that strikes you is the way they are dressed. They are dressed in the latest fashions especially women. As you look around you see the father of Quincy Timberland (real name Kimenju wa Njeege) parking his car. The car in this case is not any other car but the latest model of car carefully and wonderfully made somewhere in Western Europe. As he alights from his car, you notice that his hair is well cut, moustache well trimmed, suit is new and the shoes are made of crocodile skin. Next to him is his wife wearing black goggles and with her is the small Quincy Timberland who likes to play computer games and chewing gum at night. How you fancy that couple!

From the face value, they look a perfect couple. If you are a man, you are wondering why God gave you a wife like the one who shares a bed with you. You always tell God that when you asked for a wife, you expected him to give you something not just anything. Your wife has evolved from 'my beautiful little doll' to 'anything'. This is because your money is the family's money but her money is her money. All her bank statements always find their final resting place in recycle bin made by your local council. If you are a woman you are wondering why God gave gave you a monster in form of a husband. Why? Look at the father of Quincy...look at the way he smiles...the way he carries himself? You wish he is your hubby. Your hubby is those people who eat and eat until they become the size of a back garden. Not even that, hear him talk, nothing but sh*t. As he lifts one leg to walk, his massive tummy makes an opposite 180 degree angle to the north as if its responding to the smell of karanga chapo in the fridge cooked yesterday by your hands. To you your hubby does not add value to the well being of the house. What we have in the house is two adults who have no respect for each other. When faced with such a situation, are there consequences?

I like telling true stories. Now read this one:-

There was one male primary school teacher who will forever remain in my mind till I leave this world. By village standards, he was always well dressed and was very clean. He was taking us in Mathematics and when teaching, one could notice that he really enjoyed teaching the subject. Whether pupils enjoyed being taught mathematics by him is another subject altogether.

He lived about ten kilometres from the school and he had an old motorbike to transport him to and from school. When coming to school, he could drive it in a supersonic speed so as to impress other teachers and pupils. One of his favourite topics was about finding distance, speed and time taken. Of course he could always give example based on his motorcycle. According to him, his motorcycle's engine was like that of an aeroplane, that if only the Government can give him permission to fly, he could with ease. Eeh? Do you get that? About current affairs, he knew everything, talk about Iran/Iraq war, he knew it! Talk about gulf war-he knew it! Talk about astronomy-he knew it! He was also an 'expert' in medical field especially in hemispherectomy (Where half of the brain of patients is removed to cure their intractable seizures!) He always made sure that all the teachers were listening to him as he 'vomited' all what he had 'swallowed'. To him, it was either his way or nothing. Talk of me, me, me, me, myself and I. In his own world, there was none like him in this world or the next!

Then came his favourite hobby-beating children. If I inform you that he truly liked beating us, I think I would be making an understatement. I don't know about you but I think Jamhuri could get a lot of foreign exchange from exporting child abusers from my former school. I cannot remember any day that passed without us being beaten for stupid reasons. You could be in parade ground and the headmaster decides to 'teach a lesson' to pupils in class seven. All the class seven pupils could be commanded to go and lie flat on the ground near the headmaster's office. All the teachers could come armed with canes. What will follow will be a war zone, beatings,beatings, more beatings, slaps, kicks, more beatings, pouring of cold water on your small innocent bodies, slaps, kicks...name it! After two hours of beatings, some children will be taken to hospital with brocken ribs and wounds that would take ages to heal. Please do not visualise the psychological torture of a lifetime that the children will endure. It will only take God's miracle to heal those mental wounds. If by any chance you have ever been entrusted with children and you tortured them in any way, please read on:-
 

The Mathematics teacher in question enjoyed those kind of mass beatings. In fact there is one corner of the school compound which he had nicknamed 'Kichinjio' or 'Mr. M'S Morgue'. He was right because if he happened to beat you at that area, your bum will look like it was minced meat-then the name 'Kichinjio'. On the name 'Morgue', once you are there with him beating you, you are better dead because there are all the chances that you might never walk properly for the rest of your life. Mind you the mistake you have made is for example finding the area of a rectangle with a length of 15cm and Width of 10 cm. If you told him that the area is 150 cm, then you were fit for 'Kichinjio'. Why? Because you were supposed to say 150cm (squared) Just that - not a murder case! Listen to him one day:
 

Teacher: Good morning class?
Pupils: (All standing up trembling with fear) Good - morning - teacher.
Teacher: (Looks at the pupils and shakes his head) YOU PEOPLE...YOU PEOPLE. YOU CALL IT A GOOD MORNING Eeh?! Eeh?! ME I KNOW IT IS NOT A GOOD MORNING! BECAUSE I KNOW, OHHHHH YES! I KNOW THAT ALL OF YOU WILL CRY TODAY! DON'T LOOK AT ME WITH THOSE DRY EYES OF YOURS. WHEN I SEE YOU, I SEE SMALL CORPSES...LOOK AT THAT 'MORGUE' THERE? CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF THERE? YOU BETTER SEE IT. ALRIGHT? ALRIGHT?!!!!
True to his world, his evil prophesy will come to pass. Children will not die but their innocent poor souls will be broken. Their will to live like children will be broken. Their chances of having a positive outlook of what the world can offer is dimmed.

Again, if you ever have neglected or made a child under your care to suffer, this is for you. Please continue reading.

The beatings went on and on. Our prayer was that one day, the teacher will have an accident and die and take the shortest route to hell. The more we prayed the more he became worse. He was not dying. Why? Why? Why?

I remember one Friday afternoon when two Policemen in a police car came to our school. They told the headmaster that they wanted to see the Teacher Mr. M. The teacher was in our class teaching maths as well as harassing us and calling us 'Little corpses'. I cannot remember any day that he never mentioned the name, 'YOU LITTLE CORPSE!' One policeman came with the Headmaster and they knocked the classroom door and the teacher opened. He was holding a piece of chalk in his right hand.

They started talking for about two minutes. We could see the policeman making some gestures and looking at the sky. Something must have been wrong somewhere. The teacher's mood changed completely and his eyes widened as he opened his mouth and saying; 'WHAT? WHAAAAAAT?! WHAAAAAT? WHY? WHY ME? WHY ME! WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN? OH MY GOOOOOD, MY GOD! MY GOD! MY GOD! WHY ME? From the class windows, we saw him shed some tears and biting his lips in disbelief. He looked a broken man, a sharp contrast from the what we were used to.

We later learned that his two small children had died on fire. The house girl had messed with the gas cooker and it exploded making the whole house catch fire. The situation was made worse by the petrol for his motorbike which was somewhere in a big container in one of the rooms. The house girl also died on th spot. The little children were burned beyond recognition. They were two little sweet girls. After some time, they were taken to the mortuary waiting for the funeral.

Do you learn something? Personally, I learned that if you do not respect something, that something will have wings and fly away from you. If he never respected children under his care, how did he expect God to protect his and they were born just like us? If you have difficult children, there is a possibility that you must have messed with somebody else's kid somewhere. Try to put your life under a microscope and remember that day you said bad things about children of so and so. Remember that day when a kid came to your house, hungry and tired and you banged the door on him. Your neighbour requested you to take care of his kid and you could not put on the heaters to save money for the gas. I cannot imagine that you are in the west and you have no children charity that you help. Not even that, you have never made a difference in any kid's life and you boast that you are in London, New York, Tokyo, Brussels, Berlin and all those world famous capitals in th world. And you pray and fall on the ground speaking in tongues, doing acrobatics on stage in the name of love of God? Stop fooling us! Before you talk about global warming and how Chelsea or Man U players like to take their Uji hot, feed your children first. Say sorry to that kid that you neglected because history will judge you very harshly! Waacha waana!

Oh! You are in the west where men come after sheep, goats and cockroaches eeh? You don't care whether your hubby has a bushy bearded or he is a proud owner of a forty something year old scrotum. Good for you. You are free to talk the way you want because the environment favours you. You leave your hubby at home and go to the bar to drink with mates? As a man, I can tell you that your hubby feels demeaned and frustrated. To him, he is with you for convenience sake but not love. You hubby will leave you one of these days. Can I tell you that you will never ever attract a decent man as a husband. Your life will be synonymous with 'my Ex-, my Ex-' Respect that man if you want some anointing.
 

And you my brother, you who will never give your wife a breathing space. You want to follow her every move-looking at her phone, knowing who she spoke with, was talking what, about what, went to toilet when, number one or two, how many cubic litres, which toilet? Stop behaving like a devil. Have you ever realised that you hurt her feelings anytime you open your mouth? Do you tell her that you love her? That you believe in her? That she is beautiful and you can die for her? Are you always serious with her, no jokes, you are so boring...so mean to her and her people...to her friends? You have no respect for her? Do you expect her to respect you? The moment she starts faking diseases anytime you want to go to 'kasarani' is the time to realise that there is no love. Do you respect women in general? Respect that woman, mother of your kids. She came from your rib. Pray for her. Tell her that you will never make love to another skirt wearer because 'gutooga leo' all would-be lovers will look like plants in front of your eyes anytime they look at you with bedroom eyes.
 

You have been blessed with parents who you have no respect for. You know there is famine in Africa and how prices of commodities have skyrocketed and you don't care. Hey, send them those pounds or dollars please or a curse will befall on you. You have a mother-in-law who you see as a demon. This is the woman who gave you your wife or hubby. You have no repect for her...When is the last time you called her and gave her a word of encouragement? What about your father-in-law? Another demon? And you expect to be blessed? Ask me another question!
 

Who said that money is the root of all evil? It is not! Don't say bad things about money or it will have wings and fly and fly away. Do you respect those people who have made it in life? When you hear of Gatheru Rwamba, Misterseed, Richard Branson, Mr. mbogoro, Marble Mark, Bill gates, James Kariuki 'Katamba' and others, do you admire them? Do you talk something good about them? If not, you will never be as rich as them. There must be something unique that they have that the rest don't have. Respect their hard work and you will attract their powers.

The ball is in your court. Have respect for everything. If you don't you will never have what you don't respect. Uamuzi ni wako.

Whispers in London (Don't gamble with the lives of your family!)

March 7 2010 at 9:12 PM Man Man Man Man  

You must have realized that I like writing about my grandfather. He was one gentleman who lived in this wide world for more than a century. Even at his advanced age, he has never seen the inside of a hospital because of illness. On his dying day, he died peacefully in his sleep. God rest his soul in eternal peace.

I have told you before that granddad had a whole thirty seven breathing wives. May I open the lid and inform you that he owned some other eleven 'concubines'. In total my grandfather owned forty eight wives-Yes, forty eight females all pledging loyalty to him. For one reason or another, I cannot tell you how those wives were regarded as concubines but not real wives. That is a story for another day. With his immense wealth, power and glory, he did not need to buy a skirt wearer some coffee at Carnivore to be a wife. All what used to happen was that his advisers would tell him that in such and such a home lives a beautiful wonderful girl who walks like a mermaid. My grandfather on the other hand would visualize in his mind how a young girl of so and so would share his bed and move like a mermaid in his bed at the right temperature when all other factors are constant. Immediately, he will issue a directive that he would want to see that daughter of so and so. The daughter will be brought by the court poets and leave the room where grandpa will talk with her for some time. The girl will now be told how she would henceforth become one of the queens and control all the chief's wealth in form of cattle, sheep, pregnant goats and not so pregnant, fishes in the sea and birds in the skies. Nobody hates fame, power and glory an so if I tell you that the girl will become another wife of the chief in a month's time, I will be telling you the truth. Don't forget that there are more than thirty wives already answering in the name of the wife of the Most Senior Paramount Chief, the ruler of men, king of kings, one who discovered a female mosquito in a fish pod!

Okay then, the newly wedded wife has arrived in style and is now in the statistics of the Chief's wives. How do you think the other wives reacted? You don't need special knowledge to know that 90% were angered by the chief's decision. For one, the new wife has never seen the inside of a maternity. Her set of boobs are ripe and they look like a perfect work of art. Her slender body is nice and carefully and fearfully made. Another thing, she has never had an argument with the Chief. She knows how to cook and she is in fact cooking modern dishes which make the Chief look at her with bedroom eyes wishing that bedtime will arrive quickly. All what I am trying to say is that in the Chief's world, his other skirt wearers ceased to exist. His main concern was how to make the new wife feel at home and feel hot. One of her main duties, apart from making sure that his sexual appetite was taken care of, was to accompany him to the bank and carry his briefcase-call it an old, torn bag. As long as the new wife was spending her nights with the chief, it meant that the other wives had no chance of ever having sex with him until further notice. Further notice meant the new wife becoming heavily pregnant and the chief being unable to do what he has all along been doing at that hour of the night.

As I grew older, I kept asking myself some questions on my grandfather's life. When getting married to a new wife, was he not considering that he was being selfish, that he was putting his sexual lust before his family? Did he care to know the consequences of his actions? For one, he is not one person who was educated and so he never saw the need to emphasize on education. Most of his wives were illiterate or semi-illiterate so their reasoning was poor, very poor. As expected, in pretty large families, there were disputes here and there, fights with this family and the other family and so on. Supposing he married only one wife, could there be so many disputes, hatreds, rumors? Let us assume that by bad luck the first marriage was not working and he married the second wife, would things work? What of the third? But then why fourth, fifth, sixth...twenty...thirty, thirty one, thirty seven! Thirty seven?! This is stupidity! What of those concubines - eleven of them all having sex with him? What kind of sexual lust is that? The devil is also a provider. Tell your neighbor that the devil is defeated...Shetani ashidwe pepo chafu...Riswa!

I don't refute the fact that my grandfather was rich with thousands of acres and so he could allocate many acres of land to individual wives. When he was allocated land, he told the land officers that he wanted all that land that is from one mountain side to the other mountain side-meaning owning almost a district! This is grabbing and greed! Another thing is that one does not marry someone to come and become a slave or a children producing machine. If he remained with one wife, they could form one happy family. He could follow his children’s progress in life with care. The children could get good advice and when adults, they could face the future with confidence. Like many men of those days, grandfather could physically and verbally abuse his wives in our presence. Most of them feared him and they also made us fear him. The whole homestead had fear despite wealth and riches. To my opinion, our grandfather's attitude to those he owed a duty of care was a close substitute of abuse. In simple terms, he was gambling with his family’s lives.

My grandfather is not alone. There are some things you could be doing and they will affect generations and generations to come in your family. Before you even think of opening that zip to someone who is not the mother or dad of your children, think twice. I will keep on talking about aids because I have had close friends who have died. Can I ask you to delete that number of that boyfriend or girlfriend of yours today? By having a secret relationship, you are gambling with the lives of your family. When you have unprotected sex, you are signing a death warrant. Once you get H.I.V. virus, you are done. Even if we come and lay hands on you and pray and pray and even jump over the fences in the name of 'kumkemea shetani', Shetani ni wewe. Why because you will diarhorrea and cough alone. You will enter in the coffin alone and you will forever remain covered by soil in the grave alone. Remember your children, see them see those innocent faces moving from this foster parent to the other. See the abuse they will endure in the hands of your families. Remember your husband or wife that you will leave behind who you have infected and is soon on the way to join you. See yourself being lowered in the grave. After you have been buried, your family members will now start grabbing your property. Your children have nobody to protect them. In fact they don't know that you have a plot in Kayole or Dandora. They don't care so long as their stomachs are full, can play games and chew gum at night. Before long, your children are destitutes. Your private and confidential part of the anatomy started yawning one day. Without a second thought, you phoned sister XXX or brother ZZZ. Before long, you were both in bed scratching each others back and speaking in tongues-authored by Lucifer the main satan and coffee taster number one in hell. Hesabu ngarama mwenzangu. Don't gamble with the lives of your family!

In this life we are living, you are either blessed or cursed. Do you care how you carry yourself in your everyday life. When is the last time you phoned your mother-in-law or father-in-law? All what they know is that you have their daughter and you have children together. Have you ever bothered to buy a calling card and talk to them? You have their daughter? Your wife is not your sister so there is something you do with her that you cannot do with your sister? Could you be in abroad and your wife's parents have never seen your pound, dollar or Euro? How about sending your people to 'know' your wife's home? Never? You are slowly attracting a curse. Should your in-laws pass away (God forbid!), the curse will befall on you. Do you know this could be the reason as to why your relationship with your wife is always tense? Do you collide on stupid, small matters? This is a curse. Next time your children starts having unexplainable disabilities, don't go far to ask why? You are cursed and your whole house is cursed. Do you ever care why you do not make a step financially/socially even when in abroad for all those years? You are under a curse from parents. Another question-how often do you call your own parents? And when you call them, do you give them hope or you talk to them like they are children? Take care of what comes out of that big mouth of yours. If you don't know your parents phone number by heart...I wonder how often you call them. Once a curse befalls on you, you will affect your loved ones and you are taking a gamble with your family.

Ever heard of this saying; He who laughs last laughs best. Another one says that the strongest man in this world is he who stands alone. Take care of the people you call friends. You could be gambling with the lives of your family by the people you make your family interact with. Are your friends positive people? How do they perceive you and your children in the privacy of their bedrooms? Trust me, your children need to live with the so called friends for one week only and their self esteem is destroyed for life!

When I was seven years, I visited one of my relative somewhere in the country . The first week was a holiday with her. I don't know what she saw in me because the second week became a nightmare. Even if I coughed (which was natural), she used to call me; 'evil boy', even when I ate, to her I was eating in an evil way, even my walking was 'evil'. The next three weeks were hell on earth...that education is nothing and even those people whose brains are not academic oriented can live longer...that her children have 'O' Positive group while I have 'O' negative which is owned by dogs! Talk of living with an idiot! By the time I went back home, the once confident kid was hiding in shame, could not talk a lot and I was 'evil!'. Before you leave your kids with friends, think twice! Before you get a child minder, ask for divine intervention. It will only take one evil so called 'family friend' to destroy your children completely! When you came abroad, who did you live with? I know there are some people with a story to tell.

After creating Heavens and earth, God said: 'Let there be light.' And there was light. Anything he wanted created, he just said it. This means that our tongues have got a lot of power. Take care of what comes out of your mouth. There are some of us whose trademark is creating animosity between people. Once they open their mouths to speak, they don't weigh the impact of what they are saying. They will never talk positive and encouraging things to their loved ones. Do you encourage your children to get good grades? You are pushing your children too hard to be superstars. Are you a superstar yourself? Oh yes, you are! You were in Mijinga Ujinga high school and there was a competition on who owned the biggest mouth...and..and...the winner was...YOOOOOOOOU! Conglats BIG MOUTH but ZIP UP! You have scores to settle with everyone you rub shoulders. Every weekend you want to meet Ondiek to tell him about ManMan of Birmingham, how he writes nonsense, who his girlfriend is...how his girlfriend is -! Next time you will talk of Pastor XX and the first lady of the church, Bishop YY, The Right Reverand;Arch-Bishop zxc (add 17.50% V.a.t) (jokes aside!). You are making your family have a bad name. In fact you are known as 'Couple from hell'. You always put your spouse in a very embarrassing situation because its you kind of came abroad to make quarrels with people when others came to better their lives. Great minds discuss ideas but simple minds discuss people. Why don't you accustom yourself to reading books instead of investigating other people's lives? Be a man or woman of integrity and pass that integrity to your loved ones. In this way, you will not be gambling with the lives of your family.

For heaven's sake don't tell your children that they are stupid or silly or even evil! Your tongue has a lot of power. What you say will come to reality. You call your children stupid and that is what they will become. You wonder why your children don't improve their grades and you are the problem! Bless them as a mother/dad and tell them that they try their best. Tell them not to worry if they have tried enough because the bottom line is that they are your children. Assure them that you can even die for them. Teach them about anything-even sex education if need be!

You are someone's wife and you live abroad. To you men are supposed to be seen but not to be heard. You treat your hubby like s**t because you have makaratasi and your hubby doesn't. Your wife is not yet blessed with makaratasi so you blackmail her all the time. Know what? There is a God somewhere. Unknown to you, there is a more beautiful girl out there who loves your hubby to death. She loves your hubby so much that she badly needs to have a baby with him. You are always moody and arrogant. You are sitting on a time bomb. And you husband, there is someone who works with your wife and can even die for her. You are always stressing her with your stupid demands. If you do not change, expect a shock of your life. When your wife will call it quits and you phone her and she answers as if she is chewing sugarcane, you are done coz the die is cast. There are hyenas there my brodah woh!

Everyone is capable of destroying the lives of his/her loved ones. I don't know why we don't learn from our parents mistakes. Decide today that your loved ones will never suffer because of actions. You owe them a duty of care and when their security is at risk, you should come in and guard them jealously. It’s good to use people's advise but remember not all advise is good. Not all friends are your friends. Don't be good to everyone, even Jesus was not treating everybody the same. You cannot reason with devils so do not waste your time and your loved ones resources pleasing them. Be on your lookout, while you are busy eating grass, there are lions out there scheming to eat you up. Equip your children with positive minds. Tell them that they are their own powerhouse and you believe in them. That hubby or wife is a jewel to you. Each of you could be the link to the promised land. Don't spend time fighting one another with stupid competitions! You are missing the mark that is why you do not move ahead. God bless you.

Whispers in London (Why you don't have a valentine)

February 13 2010 at 10:46 PM

Valentine day is with us again. How quickly time goes! Just the other day I was writing about Valentine and here I am again writing about it. My question is: who is your valentine? Put it this way, has somebody in the name of love bought you anything like a flower, a gift, clothes and everything that is red to show some love to you? Incase nobody has bought you something to show that he or she loves you, then this is the time to know that there is something wrong somewhere along the line.

I don't know of anybody who hates to be loved, to be shown appreciation by word and deed. Who would hate to have those romantic moments with someone that you love. Nobody likes to live a lonely life. You need someone to share joys and sorrows with. Its a necessity to have someone by your bedside who you can make love to, tell jokes, cry and laugh with. One of my all time favourite songs is one song by Yvonne Chaka Chaka which goes like this:

How can you live your life alone? How can you live without love?
We need a place for our love...Every woman needs a man...

I can paraphrase it and say that every man needs a woman not unless he is of course ...There are so many problems, trials and temptations in the world we are living. My heart goes for those single mothers who have to work and take care of kids with no one to give a helping hand. There are also single fathers there who have nobody to share problems in life with. My prayer is that God will give you a good partner who will make you happy. Pray as if you are making a telephone call to God and God is on the other side listening to you. With time, God will send you a handsome prince or a princess. But...but... What went wrong on the way to Heaven? How comes that when there are so many of us, there are some of us who are still lonely? How comes that you will just go out and see other people buying others gifts, holding and kissing each other in the name of romance when you will be very busy in the kitchen cooking ugali for your children? Could you be the problem? Is there something that you do that made your partner leave you alone? Well, well...

To tell you the truth, you are the problem. This is because you suffer from low self esteem. For example, you don't believe that any man can love you. You think you are not lovable. Another thing, when you were growing up, your mother used to tell you that the best man is the one who is covered by soil six feet under in the garden where pumpkins grow in hundreds. You grew up with that mentality as a kid. Now you are grown up with two full ripe breasts and a bum full of 'meat' and still you believe that all men are bad and the best ones are somewhere buried in the cemetry. With this stupid mentality, do you expect to have a valentine come valentine's day? Your mum had her life and you have your life. It does not mean that just because your mum's relationships were bad, yours have to follow suit. No! No! No! What the mind can believe to be true, the mind can conceive. Your mum was born in a different generation where she was taught that a girl was supposed to eat her cake while only facing the sky. In your generation, you can eat even when facing the centre of the earth...iko swali? You are married and you have a partner and still what you think and do is controlled by remote control by your parents? What will make your man not run away from you?

As a man, you are married with a wonderful wife and children, yet you are still a mummy's boy? Anything you tell your wife is my mother this, my mother that...You have hair everywhere and yet what you talk (gas!) and do is what your mummy wants you to do. God have mercy! Your dad used to tell you that women are stupid and their place is in the kitchen. You are in the west and still you want your wife to prepare a bath for you. You cannot clean the house or wash dishes because you are so tired doing the so called 'marathon' Security Job where you have been sleeping for the last thirty six hours. You know very well that there are no housegirls here and you cannot help. What will make your wife not leave you for another better man? Will you be surprised that your wife is with you just because of the children? If you call her 'My Valentine' she will pretend to go to the toilet and vomit. Why? Because of the way you conduct yourself in the house. Call a spade a spade, your wife ceased to be your valentine many years ago. Why do you think that she always suffers from 'head-ache, kwashiorkor and marasmus' anytime you tell her to spread her legs when your children are fast asleep or gone to school? Okay, if she finally does spread, why do you think that she goes to wipe away that 'document' immediately you finish. For one, she was not prepared to walk that holy journey with you. If she cries, don't fool yourself that its a genuine cry. I don't know of any female who cries with ectasy when she is being raped. Ngumu sana!

Theoretically, you are a husband and wife but in actual fact you are very serious competitors. The hubby has a project at home and the wife has hers. The only common factor is children and occasional casual sex when you are not calling each other animal names. Competitors do not romance and so Valentine day has no meaning to either party. Both of you could have avoided competition if only you did not entertain a ferocious animal called 'JOINT BANK ACCOUNT'. It does not matter how born again you are, how many times you pray but joint bank accounts are a nightmare to many relationships. I have heard people say that the best thing is to have common project where each of the spouse contributes from respective account rather than putting money together in one joint account. You want some money from the joint account to give your brother to buy a goat. After some few months the goat is a teenager and it has been put on the family way by the goat boyfriend. This time you want more money from the same same joint account to buy 'daily meal' to feed the newly born baby goat. Do you think that the other spouse will welcome that idea of debiting the joint account with hundred hands? Do you expect him or her to buy you gifts and cards for valentine? No way, he will wish that the baby goat and the mother would have swine flue and be dispatched to the next world by nature. Its a fact that most relationships are ended by financial problems among others.

Perhaps I should inform you that we are in the information Technology age where information travels almost like the speed of light. You have all along had a secret relationship somewhere and you think that the other person does not know. Remember that text message you sent at one o'clock in the morning to your lover. How would you react if you knew that you pressed the recepient as 'Ngui one' (being the wife) instead of 'Jane' (who is your mistress). The message was very romantic...that you are happy with the gift that she bought you and may she be a lender not a borrower. The other time you forgot your phone and guess who phoned? Your lover! Hang on...she left a very sweet message on the phone...that she hopes that the coming Saturday will be as hot as the other first Saturday of the month when you were as sweet as honey! Your wife deleted the whole message but took all the details, the number, the name etc, etc. The rest is easy, going through google search. That is now where she will know the address of your lover, where she goes to church, works where, was circumcised when, with what... Do you expect your wife to see you and jump with joy after all what she knows about you? Remember that you lied to your wife that you were going to work and you were working waking nights and sleep in. Yes, indeed it was a good waking night, you were waking every now and then to sleep into someone's territory without licence. If you are someone's wife and you have a secret lover, do you expect your hubby to celebrate Valentine day with you after all what he has come to know about you? I am sure that if each person's life is put under a microscope for the other spouse to see, many spouses would wish they are dead. Don't even think of Valentine day and its manifestations!
Always remember that trust is like virginity, it is brocken once. Once your hubby or wife knows of your infidelity, even if you both bury the hatchet, trust me, life will never be the same again. The strong foundations of your marriage life has been ruined and it will only take the hand of God to bring the trust back. Before you have a secret relationship, think twice my brother my sister. The psychological price to pay is just too much. Worse still...Ukimwi iko!

The problem with us is that is that some of us lack people skills. Its good to be talkative as a man but when you are with women, talk less and listen more. If you don't give your wife a chance to talk, forget romance and worse still, erase Valentine day from your memory. There are some of us who start arguments with their wives the moment they enter into bed until the following day. One of the lessons I learned from my grandfather is that as a man, I should always rise above petty issues and that I should expect my reasoning to be higher than that of women. As a man, listen to your wife and pay attention. Take what is good and discard subconciously what you think is not good. Never make your wife feel stupid and unwanted. In case you disagree, do it with wisdom that is why you are a man. When some of us open their mouths, they vomit all what is in their mind to their wives. They lower their wives' self esteem and this low self-esteem is then passed to the children. What a tragedy! Come Valentine day, the same men book a nice meal in a good hotel to celebrate Valentine day. What Valentine!! If only they can read what is going on in their wive's mind...

The secret of being good Valentines is to think kindly of each other. We all make mistakes at a certain point in our lives. There is no point of thinking what your spouse did to you when the world was created. Life is not a rehearsal and one day we will vacate this world and leave others to occupy. I wish everyone can be a valentine of the other. How I wish everyone has someone to call and share problems and success with. If you enter in a place and you convince yourself that you indeed like those people you meet there, those people will in return come to like you. If you hate them, they will hate you. There is what we call telepathy. For example, if you think of your wife as a young beautiful girl, mother of your children, she will in return think of you as a young handsome young man, father of her children. The reverse is true. There are some vibrations that we release to the universe and those vibrations come back exactly as we released them. If you release vibes of love, you will experience love, what of if you think of hate? You will receive hate. Take care of what you feed your mind with.

Let this be the last year that you are lonely. Loneliness and feeling unwanted is the worst poverty. God created you with a purpose. If you don't have a lover, God will provide you with one. Do not rush, nature knows no rush. The planets are in perfect orbit and the earth does not rush to rotate out of its axis. Your God given lover is somewhere. God is doing something behind the curtains. There is hope. Happy VALENTINE everyone!

Whispers in London (Do you believe in Ghosts?) 

January 14 2010 at 9:52 AM

I don't have to go to lengths of defining what a ghost is or what it stand for. I am assuming that we all know what a ghost is. Basically, it is the spirit of a dead person that a living person believes they can see or hear. You are free to call it memories of something that you know or believe. The question is; do you believe that they exist? Before you answer that question, read on:-

Friday night was the best day for any African male who could afford to have some few 'legal tenders'. This was the day to catch up with what had been happening in the course of the week. All experiences, good or bad were discussed at the swallowing joint. Once in the bar, everyone forgot his problems. This was the day to talk and act very rich. To some people, this was the night to socialise as you sinned. By sinning, I am referring to a husband of somebody arriving with a girlfriend and that girfriend taking the roles of mama Watoto that night. This was the moment where men used to tell other men that having a relationship outside marriage was well within the parameters of African customs. Listen to Mister Jacopo one evening;

 
'Guys, meet my bibi mdogo. My wealth entitles me to have as many women as I can. Another thing, I know that I was not circumcised for one female only. I am related to Italian by the name Giovanni Jacopo Casanova so I am a casanova myself. Not unless all my blood is drained 'kabisa, kabisa' then all women, fat and slim, circumcised and not circumcised will all like to have a piece of me...Ho! Ho! Ho!,' he would say. We did not know what magic Jacopo was using because he used to come with different very beautiful women. He was muscular, very tall with very red eyes. If that is why women liked him, I have no clue.

Unfortunately, outside relationships come at the expence of the good family values and Jacopo's was no exception. One evening after we all bid each other goodbye and headed to our respective homes, Jacopo headed to a hotel with his mistress. I guess they went there to talk about matters of state, how credit crunch was going to affect a common mwananchi and all that. It is common knowledge to know that such matters are discussed when the two people are gathered in their naked state. Each of them removed the pants and put them together somewhere so that the pants can get married and live happily ever after. They were having this 'discussion' in their drunken state. At 4 A.M. Jacopo woke up (still drunk) and prepared to go home. The beer in him could not let him know that the G-String written 'YOU ARE SOooooooo Adorable, Love me Honey XXX' belonged to the mistress not him. Quickly he wore it, then trousers, shirt and so on and headed home. He was now half drunk and so there were no chances of him feeling so 'Adorable, Love me Honey' at that hour. He reached home safely, was greeted by the wife and he jumped into bed. As usual he removed his clothes except the pants (call it G-string...YOU ARE SO Adorable, Love me Honey XXX)and fell to sleep. In the morning he had another strong urge to discuss more matters of state, this time with his wife. For more comfort, he removed the pants. Wait a minute! He was wearing a G-String and the wife saw it! Jacopo was now sober and he could not believe the drama that was unfolding infront of his eyes! The wife could not believe it also. The trust that she had on Jacopo was now thrown out of the window. Meaningful Communication between them ended and there was no love or trust again. After many months, they talked about it and Jacopo asked for forgiveness. The wife decided to bury the past and move on. Even Jesus forgave his tormentors, she would say. At the end of the day, her husband's crime was only to have a one night stand with another woman. He had not commited murder or robbery with violence. May peace prevail!

Exit many years and I asked him how his family was doing. I could tell that that was a subject he wanted to avaoid. Here he goes:-

"Mazee, I think I am bewitched. I don't know happiness in my house. Hardly a week goes without my wife and I arguing over this and that. For example, I told her that the tea was cold and she quickly grabbed the tea from my hands, poured the tea on the carpet then stepping on the cup and throwing it out in full force not knowing where it will land to".

I remembered those days when he used to call himself Jacopo Casanova and when the wife saw the G-string belong to another female like her not from another female mosquito.

"Jacopo, listen to me; the ghosts of that 'G-string' issue is still hovering in your relationship. Yes, you talked and talked and she forgave you. It is easily said than done. There are children involved and she did not want to be in the statistics of the single women. If she had a way, she could have left you. Imagine the pain she underwent on finding out herself that you were cheating on her. Those ghosts visit her every now and then because she is a human being. They say that not even God can change the past. You left an indellible mark in your relation and it will only take the hand of God to wipe it out completely. Those ghosts are bad. Why? Because they subconciously 'show' her everything-like a movie...how you started with a 10,000 watts kisses on the lips, kneck, boobs, down the navel...down...down...! They show her how your mistress was scratching your hair and back as she spoke in tongues sending salamus to devil knows who. Those ghosts are experts in exaggeration! Once they visit your house and you are away with genuine friends, they convince her that you are somewhere with someone and you are eating a cake facing the sky or the centre of the earth!" I informed him.

"So what do I do now, climb the wall or jump from a cliff?" he asked.
"Just be yourself and live a righteous life. Zip up your pants and when you meet your mistress, 'salimia yeye na mkono tu siyo na kitu ingine!'

If there is anything I admire in life, it is a couple that love each other genuinely. It is those people who call each other sweetie, honey, boo, darling who make me sick because they are fake. Take care, one of these days, your pretence will end and wev know your true self. It is through the content of your character that we shall know you better. Through the ghosts that you attract in your life, we will know your character.

You must be a miracle baby if the ghosts of your previous relationships do not visit you. One of my workamates some years back told me of her first love experience. It happened that she had just finished college and she was lucky to get a good job. No sooner had she gotten a job than she got a boyfriend. She never had a steady relationship and so both her boyfriend and her were madly in love. Unfortunately, the guy was transferred to Coast before a month ended in their relationship. She could not wait to go to coast and visit her boyfriend on taking her annual leave.

The first night was very okay. Infact they woke up at 2 A.M. the following day. Any matters of state this time? I hope not. The following day was okay but as the time went by, she realised that she was missing some of her money from her hand-bag. She had shs.10,000.00 she had planned to spend. Out of the shs.10,000.00 in the bag, she could only find shs.2,000.00 She informed her boyfriend and the boyfriend looked so 'upset'. They looked for the money everywhere with no luck. Was there a ghost in the house? The following day when the guy had gone to town, she looked at the ceiling and saw an opening at the edge of the ceiling. Out of curiosity she decided to check-and what did she see? Some shs.8,000.00 stacked in the same envelope she had put. She waited for the boyfriend and confronted him. Of course he denied but he wa the thief! In her mind, she knew that she had to end the relationship immediately. The following day, they had a jaw-bone-cracking language with the boyfriend and called it quits.

She used to tell me that from that time, she lost interest in men and even sex. Anytime she goes to bed with a new found boyfriend, she sees a thief first in a man. What then follows is rape but not love making. To her, no man can drive her coldness away because they all carry weapons of mass destruction. Matters are made worse if a man from the tribe of the guy who stole from her approaches her. She feels like vomiting blood. The ghosts of breach of trust by the first boyfriend have never left her.

You can hate ghosts as much as you can but they love you to death. We cannot carry on living basing on our past events. We all make mistakes at a certain point in life. To err is human and everyone deserves a second chance. There are dangers of carrying bad feelings. If you are a woman for example and you don't forget what your hubby did to you ages ago, you risk attracting cancer. The cancer you can attract will hit your most feminine parts of the anatomy like breasts and cervix. With the pressures of life we carry, we cannot afford to carry another burden rest we die before our time. Why do you think that most people look more aged than their actual age? Because they carry a lot of stress courtesy of ghosts which will never die. You attract what you think the whole day. Think garbage and you will attract garbage. Take care, ghosts are real but DO NOT GIVE THEM A CHANCE.

Whispers in London (Its time to do away with some people)

December 31 2009 at 12:26 AM

We are lucky that at we are seeing the sunset of year 2009. Its a fact that we will never see this year again in our lifetime. Another fact is that each of us is one year older. The more the years roll, the more your contracted years on earth are coming to an end. Your time to be a tenant in a cemetry is much more nearer than before. Future is mystery and today is a present. Irrespective of the problems that you have, you have got to live life to the fullest because you might never see another end of year like today. How many people, even famous, even more beautiful, more handsome could have wanted to cellebrate the new year and today they are no more? Pack your troubles and smile, smile and smile. God created you with a purpose. God never created a junk in you. You were created in God's image and likeness. You never know what tomorrow will bring. If you are in the west for example, you already have won a first prize win in the lottery of life. I personally live in Britain and Britain is still doing business. I treat the problems I undergo as experience because there is a multi-billionaire in me, just like you.

Unfortunately, just when we are just convincing ourselves that we are beautiful people, we come across people who are so toxic, so stupid, disappointing, malicious, jealous, so negative, too discouraging...just too complicated and very bad combination to live with. It is like they were sent to us by registered mail from hell. These are the people who will never see anything good in you. They will never keep their mouths shut and all what they talk is gas, gas, and more gas. As we usher the new year, these are the people who we should strike off from our list of friends and associates.

Well ManMan, this is the wrong time to talk about doing away with people. Fair enough. Some people you should do away with would come in form of husbands and wives. Am I overstepping the mark? Certainly No! Why? Because some of us will never learn. For example, who does not know that aids has no cure, yet some of us will never zip up their pants.

Among those people who came to see me when I went to Africa the other day were my closest friends' children. As I was giving a speech, I counted about fifteen children who were orphans because their parents had died because of aids. As I spent the night away with them, tears rolled from my eyes. Some of them were very promising children and had good grades. The only problem was that they did not have school fees and the only option left was to join village polytechnics. Think about it! One of the dead parent was my friend work-mate. He used to tell me that he could not imagine eating a sweet (mmm...nyamnyam...mmm) with the wrapper on. The result was being infected and consequently infecting the mother of the children. Result? Death for both parents thus jeopardising the children's future.

If you find that your hubby has relationships, this is the time to ask for devine intervention. Ask God to help you close your legs and put a lock and key. Forget those London cursed names like sweethearts (cia ngoma!) that you call one another when you are in birthday parties or when visitors call at your house. This is the time to say 'NO!' to death. When that hour comes and he is asking you to consider eating on the same 'honey pot' and he is naked like a male donkey, convince yourself that what he is carrying is not (!) but a caterpillar that has stretched itself to the limit. Are we together my sister? Better stay single, safe and healthy. You don't have to live with someone who is leading you to an early grave. And for you women who are not satisfied with their husbands, I have got a word for you. You have the power to wipe away your family. Control your libido and if you are unable, ask for devine intervention. After you are able to control that demonic libido, 'eenda kwako nyumbani na upiike ugaali kuuuuuuubwa kisha uite majirani mkule pamoja na mkemee huyo shetani! The more sex partners that you have, the more the chances of being infected. The best thing is for you to be done away with if that is your character.

Nobody hates to be appreciated. The next time you see celebrities running away from paparazis, just know that some are pretending. We all like to be treated like celebrities all the time. What of those friends who see nothing good in you? There are those you call friends but they are friends from hell. They are very quick to remind you of your failures. God be with you if you work at night and you sleep during the day. That is the time they call you to find you asleep which is natural. The next you will hear your parents who are ten thousand miles away reminding you to look for a job. Your friends called your parents and told them that you came abroad to sleep. You could be an employer yourself while your friends are employees somewhere, yet they see you as a failure. Its all because of jealousy that your name is tarnished. People are very comfortable with you when you are on the same level but the moment you make a step, they start feeling uncomfortable. Are these not the people to do away with by putting their file in a very high shelf?

They say that a enemy to your enemy is your friend and a friend to your enemy is your enemy. Your friend could be a traitor without you knowing. The moment you find that your friend has any connection with your enemy is the time to cut links completely. Friends come and go. Ask God to give you the right friends. As the year starts, go through your phone and delete some numbers. You don't need them for Heaven's sake!
 

I was talking to my longtime friend, one and only Papa Ajasco who is in his mid-sixties (Are you still interested in knowing what happened to him that fateful night?). He was telling me that him and his family happened to have that so called 'family friends couple'. The first month passed without any incident. During the second month, the 'family friends were requesting all manner of contributions, real and imagined. This month is 'Harambee' for this, next month is contribution for a funeral of cousin to the grandfather who was married to the cousin who sells boiled goat heads at Kia-Maiko. Don't forget that Papa Ajasco's wife has long been invited as guest of honour in the baby Knightsbridge's birthday. Baby Knightsbridge's real name is James Gituathi and he was born just the year before and he likes eating cereals in the morning. One of the roles of the Papa Ajasco's wife is to tell people to line up and 'greet' baby Knightsbridge in real pounds/dollars if they want a 24 Hour miracle! Papa Ajasco as the hubby is also asigned to make sure that wazee's throats are well irrigated with liqour which he was 'kindly requested' to donate by the father of baby Knightsbridge. After several months Papa Ajasco's family had contributed more than £4,000.00 towards the welfare of their best 'family friends'. My calculation tells me that that is enough money to buy Ajasco's son a quater acre plot at Githurai Kimbo. Papa Ajasco came to realise that mama Knightsbridge was telling Papa's wife that she married a grumpy old man who might celebrate his coming birthday in a graveyard six feet under. Beware of those 'innocent' crooks in form of family friends. Listen to me please...some are not good for you. Its far much better to concentrate with your family rather than being used as a tool of trade by 'family friends'. Am I making sense? If I do, say enough is enough, no more exploitation!

Ever heard of this methali; 'Funika kikombe mwanaharamu apiite'. This means that you should not inform everybody your secrets. I tend to think that when some of us arrive in the west, we are given 'stupidity' freely and when we are given freely, we should give it freely. We have in our midst people who know it all, who are above all and they think that the world starts with them and ends with them. These are people who can even 'open Heavens'. To them they are the sexiest, they can foretell the future and have sophisticated natural instincts for survival that can help them even survive in hell. They know the amount of blood ManMan has, how many litres of water Misterseed consumes, or the hair Michelle and her mum have etc, etc. In their own world, they are very wealthy, best speakers and their wisdom is even better than that of manlike King Solomon. When in the crowd, their voice can be heard by all living and non-living creatures. The truth of the matter is that these are the most useless people, empty debes that make the most noise. These are the people who failed miserably in their exams and never went far. With all the educational resources we have in the west, they don't want to learn. They talk so much so as to hide their shortcomings in life. The wealth they talk about is a couple of some pigs in a shed in Jamhuri. They act like supermen but it is because they suffer from what we call grandiose delusion. They are deluded that they own the world. Instead of adding them in the list of your friends, strike them off and do away with them. Ssssssh....shhhhhhh...my father once told me never to trust those men who talk and laugh at the same time. They are sly, dangerous and to them its me, me, me, myself and I. Do away with them.

As the new year comes, ask yourself whether you gain anything from your church. Does the size of your wallet come before you? How about your pastor? Have you of late stopped watching some programmes because your pastor told you not to? How long do you spend in the night meeting prayers? Where are your kids at that time? Have they eaten or have they done their homework? Is your husband or wife at home while you are busy speaking in tongues and greeting somebody and telling them that you love them, raising your hands praying God? I love God with all my heart and I know when to do what and at what time. Take care, we have good Pastors but some will brainwash you. Before you realise, you have long become their slave, so is your children. You are an adult you know what is right or wrong.

This is my last 'WHISPERS IN LONDON' article this year 2009. My motive of writing is to educate, to inform and to entertain. Trust me, I do my research throughly before I write anything here. I believe God has given me the talent for writing because I don't strain to write. I will forever use it to bless people. I don't write to settle scores with people as most people think.

May you have a prosperous new year 2010. Feel free to give me a feedback even if its criticism. I write as a human being and one of my principles is to search within myself and make a better me. GOD BLESS YOU, YOU ARE CHAMPIONS.

Whispers in London ( DO YOU KNOW THAT YOU ARE A LOTTERY WINNER?)

December 27 2009 at 2:43 AM

What lottery?'. I know that is the question most people are asking themselves on reading this article. Christmas day has come and gone, soon this year will be buried in history records. Another disturbing question people are asking themselves is how they can be lottery winners after all that has gone in the last year. Some of us are wishing that the last day of this year can come arrive quicker because it was not a good year. Could that be the year that your relationship was most strained resulting to break-up? Was it the year where nothing worked? All your plans backfired right on your face when you expected the best? Was that the year where you and your business partner fought the worst court battle with you losing 9-0? Could this year be the year that you failed to get work and your name was synonymous with being broke, 'magojwa makali -ona kutuwo ni kithui na meetho kutuniva?'. I don't care what you experienced this year. All what I know is that you are a lottery winner. I maintain that.

I am writing this article as a human being who faces his own challenges of life just like anybody else. One of my hobbies is listening to what people talk about me and those associated with me. In the privacy of my bedroom, I am really entertained by what I hear. Some things are so detrimental to my social standing but I always convince myself that if someone can take time to analyse me, then I must be having that X-factor. My One way of winning lottery is identifying my enemy. I like success and one law of success is to be immune to criticism and to treat people with respect irrespective of their backgrounds. You cannot run not unless you are chased so you need enemies, if everybody is your friend life would be very boring. If you know that, you carry with you uncommon blessing of wisdom. King Solomon asked God for wisdom and he became the richest man to have ever lived. All in all I would like to have one to one conversation with him. I would to know how he was managing his six hundred breathing skirt wearers in form of wives. How was he making all of them happy at that hour of the night when cows have gone home?. I would also be interested to know what he was doing with those three hundred concubines. My guess is that those concubines were helping him in 'kuchoma nyama na kumpatia Tusker baridi'.

You have lived with your partner for all those years as husband and wife and you want to call it quits. The years you have lived together is very rich experience. They say that you cannot substitute experience. I don't mind you going separate ways but think of those years wasted? The last time you both communicated is when ManMan visited you. That evening when the demons of relationships had gone to make love and left you alone. After ManMan left, it was business as usual. Total silence. And more silence. When your children go to school, your home is as quiet as a graveyard. If you find yourself in this situation, just know that Satan Lucifer has visited you. If you hear strange noises, say like the boiler making a funny noise, that is Satanic spirit going to your bedroom. Make no mistake that that night you and your spouse will sleep at the edges of the bed leaving a space that is wide enough like that of a herd of wildbeast in migration. And who is between you two? Satan! Doing what? Telling each of you that at times you need to sleep like a brother and a sister - fusing your bodies together is abomination! Ask me another question!

Tell you what? Each of us is created out of millions of sperms (not stamps!) and so we are unique in different ways. Every human being has got his or her own talents. There is something your spouse can do which cannot be done by anybody else in the world. You cannot write like me but I cannot make a speech like you. The other person is an inventor while the person opposite is a money making machine. With time, your spouse's talent will come out and he/she will be a multi-millionaire. You have all along told him/her that he or she is useless just because jobs are scarce. One of these days you will eat your words. Make peace with your spouse. By mere association with him or her, your life is about to dramatically change. People will start asking you whether you won lottery. Tell them 'YES!'

How about your children who feed on cereals in the morning before going to school? I can see your blessing coming through them. When is the last time you encouraged them? Are they members of the library? Do you invest in buying books to help your mind achieve more so as to help your loved ones? Have you ever read any biography of anybody who has made it in life or you just dismiss them as devil worshippers? With the problems that our black children face currently, do you listen to them and influence positive attitude to them? Do you ever wonder to listen to what you tell them especially when you are angry?. Listen to me, what you confess by mouth will come to reality. Why do you think that your children's self esteem is too low? Are you ever impressed by their grades? If not, think again. This is an alarm bell that you need to come out of your comfort zone and do something about them.

I see children as the leaders of tomorrow. They are the Obamas, Martin Luther King Jnrs, Archimedes, Pythagorous, Wangare Mathaais, Mandelas, Bill Gates, Albert Einsteins -just to name a few...of tomorrow. Invest in them now. Tomorrow they will be adults. Invest in those champions. They carry with them another uncommon blessing. I prophesy that you will one day be proud of them and they will be proud of you. If you are blessed through them, you are still a lottery winner! If you neglect any kid, you are missing the mark. Let God deal with you. The clock is ticking fast. Tik tak tik tak tik.If God hands you over to Satan and this is your very LAST YEAR on earth, please accept it. You failed to take care of your kid on earth so you will take care of devil's children in hell when you die. Rest in peace my broda woh! Aah! My sister woh! C'mmon, give yourself a hug!

I am reminded of a day like today many years ago when I hosted two gentlemen in my house in London. I guess that that was my best Christmas season because those guys were multi-millionaires in British Pounds, multi-billionaires in African currency. The guys were not related but they once were students at one of the national University. Their academic records was just brilliant. In professional exams, each of them was the top student nationally. Incidentally, both of them had come from the poorest of the poor backgrounds. Think of living in a poor community within a poor community in the village and thats where they had come from. One thing I wanted to know was the secret of their success. Listen to the first guy who was in his early thirties:-

'Manman, we are all born the same but the only difference is how our minds operate. We have come from the lowest ground and since there is no way we can go down, the only way is up. Never have any grudge with anybody, bury the past, work hard and ask God to guide you. Never force things to go your way because the even the grass that feeds livestock does not strain to grow. It just grows. Birds do not force themselves to fly, they just fly. When you are praying, pray to God as if you are making a telephone call to him and he is on the other side listening to you. If by any chance you pray for something and you don't receive it, just know that God is smart enough not to give you'.

I remembered those people I was in school with who did very little reading and got straight A's in exams. There are also those people who are so lucky that in everything they do, they have magic touch. They just flourish. Too much prayer without the right mental attitude is not the answer to success. Bill Gates is not the most prayerful person in the world yet he is the richest. King Solomon even had concubines, yet his wisdom and riches was more than anybody else's. Leonardo da Vinci was the most multi-talented person to have ever lived on earth yet he was not the most prayerful person also.

The second guy told me that what the mind can trully believe to achieve, the mind can conceive. He went on to tell me that even if matters are wrong to me like 'what', I was living in Britain, one of the most powerful countries in the world and the country was till doing business.

'The moment you step on Bristish soil, with the right attitude, poverty and you become eternal enemies and by mere fact of being in the west, you are a lottery winner!' he said.

Having 'makaratasi' or not having 'makaratasi' is not a prerequisite to being a lottery winner. God created you with a purpose and he knows your destiny. He knows that you are the breadwinner of your family. I am assuming that you are not under any curse and so the eye of God is looking at you with sympathy. He will engineer all your ways and you will attract blessings that have never been experienced. My God is powerful and my prayer is that you will enter into a wealthy place irrespective of the status. God graciously hear me. Receive it!

Final question. Do you have a spouse who can die for you? Are you blessed with children who will be there for you? Do you have friends who you can turn to in the hour of need? Are you okay healthwise? Who said that you are not a lottery winner? Come 31st December, you will be one year older while some people are already dead. Can you imagine that Michael Jackson -with all the fame, power and groly, money and all that is dead and you are still alive? Are you not a lottery winner? Yes you are a LOTTERY WINNER!

Whispers in London (Remembering Christmas seasons those days)

December 21 2009 at 6:20 PM

You have got to find all the reasons to be happy during this Christmas season. Whether you have a job or not,rejoice! If you have all along prayed God to give you a husband or wife and you have not yet received, you don't have to worry. God is finding a good person for you. He wants to give you something not just anything from the street. Its Christmas season again. How quickly time flies! Many people in the world would have wanted to see this Christmas season but for some reasons, they are now past tense. You are still in this world and that is the best present God has given you.

Let me ask you a question. Have you ever held a birthday party and a stranger from nowhere arrived ready to party with all the others invited? Put it this way, you and those invited were supposed to dress in a certain way and dance in the same style and speak the same language. The stranger in question arrives, he is not your friend and in the dance floor he is jumping up and down. When you ask him why he is jumping like he has possessed with demonic attacks, he tells you that that is how they dance where he comes from. How would you feel?

Okay then, Christmas is with us again. You and your better half (sorry! flat mate, bedmate, or sex partner) are dressed to kill. You are planning to have turkey as the main dish (English style) among other delicacies made and baptized in the west. Come Christmas day, you will all head to church to rebuke the devil and all his manifestations. Tell you what? If you are not born again and you don't know Jesus as your personal saviour, then you are not supposed to celebrate Christmas. How can you celebrate birthday of someone you don't know. You don't speak in tongues and when you speak, you pretend. Something else. The devil is also a provider...of 'speaking' in some tongues.

I am just a simple man from the slopes in Africa so who am I to judge who is to celebrate and who will not? The bottom line is that we are all children of God. God's love is unconditional and that is why he sent his only son Jesus Christ to come to the earth and die for our sins.

I have been cerebrating Christmas since I was a kid. With time Christmas seasons have had different meanings to me as years rolled. As a kid, I am going to look at Christmas through the lens of a village boy.

As young boys, we could not wait for the month of December to come. For one, we were having our school holidays. Since none of us was going to Canary islands or Bahamas, it meant that we would spend the whole time at home. If you had relatives on another side of the country, this was the best time to visit them. You were the luckiest person if they happened to be rich family. At least you had something to tell other children. For example, you could tell them that in your uncle Kirongothi's house, githeeri was food for pigs and goats and maybe the workers. Your stories could richly dwell on how you used to be driven by your uncle to town. In town your uncle could buy you Mandazis and Karanga chapo until you felt like vomiting. The truth of the matter was that you were indeed driven by your rich uncle to town but you were driven to help him carry 'daily meal' for his cows. At 3 A.M. you used to be woken up to milk his cows. Again, you were at the back of his truck at that ungodly hour taking milk to sell in the market 'hotels'. Hotels in this case were kioskis written, 'USIINGIE JIKONI' on the kitchen door. If waking up at 3 A.M. to milk defenceless animals is posh life, then I need some extra lessons in English language.

In the village, Christmas time was the time to wait for sophisticated visitors. Those visitors were city dwellers. They used to behave like they had come from another planet. As kids we admired them, we adored them. Some few days before Christmas day, they would visit the village dwellers. They were dressed in the latest fashions. Men were dressed in well cut suits with matching shoes, ties and shirts. Their hair was well trimmed and had good city mannerisms. Women were also dressed expensively. Their hair had been well treated and you could smell them from a distance. Their little daughters of our age were speaking in foreign languages. If we happened to be near them, some could hold their noses. Reason being that we were smelling smoke and goat urine. This was 'ukweli mtutu' because most village boys used to share rooms with their grandfather's goats. All of us wanted to have a chat with those beautiful girls from the city. We tried to speak broken kiswahili or English to impress girls but wapi?. Our tongues had been fed with so much arrow roots and cassava that the words could not come out smoothly. You could hear the girls say that they hated us when we spoke because we looked more stupid than we actually are.
 
There were some other special people who the villagers and the city dwellers regarded like small gods. These were people who had long forgotten 'lugha ya mama' and were now speaking English language with a foreign accent. I am talking of people from Diaspora, especially those who had gone to Europe and America. Those from America came back with heavy American accent and those from Britain had theirs too. Most of people in Diaspora had gone to study abroad. They were on various scholarships and had very good academic history. Everyone therefore associated abroad with sophistication and academic brilliance. There were some people who had gone to Asian countries and they never acquired heavy Gurjarati language or something like that.

I take a lot of pride that I live in a beautiful and respected country like England where some of those guys had come to study. Unfortunately, with years, I have come to realize that the big things they used to talk about was pure delusion if they were not suffering from severe Mental Health problems. Listen to my neighbor talking to his age-mates:

'Jerebathio (corrupt name for Jarvis), how is London for the time you have been there? I understand that Jamhurians are very much respected?' asks the villagers.

On hearing this Mr.Jarvis stops smoking his pipe, makes a 180 degree angle with his neck in slow motion and pretends to smile. He then wipes imaginary dirt from his moustache. Don't forget that its sunny and dusty in Africa. Suddenly, he clears his throat as he adjusts his sunglasses.

'You know whaa...London is kool. Kool men! Us bla' guys sell like hot cakes men! Europe chicks say that bla' guys are good lovers and reliable. You don' know how we derive satisfaction from being appreciated everywhere you go,' says the man from Diaspora.
What he forgets to tell them is that London life is very fast and nobody cares what you are doing so long as you don't step on his toes. Another truth is that there are many black people in London from all over the world who are British and their fathers and forefathers were British. So Britain 'iko na wenyewe'. By the way, the neighbors to the diasporian believe that he is a cannibal and he he can eat people. Anytime they meet, they grin at him not because of love but out of fear! Yaawa!

Christmas season was not Christmas season if our diet did not change. Our mothers used to save something small to prepare chapatis and rice. These were very rare foods. We were accustomed to thinking that that was food for Christmas season only. In every home, there was smell of chapatis on Christmas day. There was a sudden wave of generosity that could sweep across the village. Even the mean of the meanest person suddenly became generous on that day.

We were made of fresh and blood and so we soon became city dwellers. We got good jobs. Among other financial projections, we saved and projected to buy our own cars. If were to import cars, we made sure that cars arrived in November so that we would have known how to drive by Christmas day. Come Christmas we headed to the village. The first stop was the shopping center. We alighted from our cars and moved around the cars pretending to check whether the tyres were okay. The truth of the matter was that we wanted the villagers to know that we had long crossed the valley of poverty. What then followed was entering in the bar and asking the waiter to serve every bar patron beer of his choice. The social status carried with it a lot respect, real and imagined. Most villagers would want to see you in camera with all manner of problems ranging from Land dispute, rape, financial etc, etc. By the time you leave the bar you had so many things in your head. Some you could help and others were just impossible.

At whatever angle you look at Christmas season, its a time to reflect back and have good relationship with the Christ Jesus. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, so that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Its the time to mend your relationship with God. By the way, you cannot claim to love God whom you have never seen with your eyes and you hate the people around you. Anytime you open your mouth, you are tarnishing someone's name. Unfortunately you cannot "unspeak" what you have said and you claim to love God. You hate your husband who you sleep with every day...but you love God? Which God? What of the wife, mother of your children who you treat like doorstep mart...but you love God? Love one another, do unto others and you would others do unto you. Lets be our brother's keeper. Its Christmas time 2009. Never in your life will you have another Christmas of 2009. Make the best of it. Speak less and listen more. God.

Whispers in London (You are the problem...not the devil) Part Three

Continued from Part Two: (TRUE STORY)  - December 19 2009 at 8:28 PM

The night was long, very long and boring. In my mind, the whole world looked like one blank piece of sheet. In the first place, I had committed a crime in the village. I looked up in the ceiling and wondered what the villagers were thinking about me. Were all of them baying for my blood? How about my newly heavilly pregnant wife that I had left behind? Did the policemen come to harass her by telling her to produce me? For how long was I to be on the run and in the first place, where was I running to? Were the C.I.D's informed about me and were busy following my every move? Life has never been that difficult.

The next morning I woke up very early. I realised that the first thing I had to do was to conceal my identity. My hair was very long and I had a thick moustache. All that had to go and from that day, I had to be clean shaven and if possible I was to speak only the national language dead or alive. I was not used to speaking the national language and infact I was not very good in speaking it. I had to pretend that I had a slight stammer to hide my inadequacy. More to that, I had from that time assume that my name was henceforth a Mr. Jonah. Whether that was going to work or not depended on whether lady luck was on my side.

As a matter of urgency, I looked for a barber to cut all my hair. The barber could not understand how a handsome young man like me could want to look bald. He suggested that he leave some little hair. I almost screamed at him to cut everything off. I then bought some few second hand clothes in the open-air market. I was never to wear the clothes the villagers had accustomed to seeing me with. For the rest of the day, I avoided people's eyes rest I came across someone who knew me. After buying clothes and the haircut, I was now running out of cash. If I was not careful, there were chances of me being homeless and having nothing to eat. Even with a criminal record or not, I had to look for a job even if it meant working in a morgue.

I paid for accommodation for the next two nights in the same place. It was cheap and on the other side of the town. I decided to visit a local pub, possibly talk to somebody who can direct me to where I can get a job. Out of lack of money, I bought a soft drink as I watched the other bar patrons take beer after beer with their female companions. The Juke box was playing popular dance songs and soon almost everyone was on the dance floor. It seemed that everyone knew the songs from the way they were singing the chorus. Some were laughing, joking and seating on each other. God! those were people enjoying life with no care of the world while I was on the run not knowing where my next meal would come from.
 
I was seated next to a huge man with a big belly. I guessed he weighed around one hundred and twenty kilos or thereabout. He had double chin and was clean shaven just like me 'bwana Jonah'. As the people danced along, he asked me why I was not dancing. I told him that I was having a slight headache. We talked and talked. I realised that his best subject was women and sex.I made sure that we dwelled on that subject and he enjoyed every minute. He bought me soft drinks after another to 'cool' my 'headache'. He even told me that his name was 'Tyson' and that the girl selling beer was his girlfriend. From a distance, the girl was very beautiful. She wore a white blouse which somehow exposed her full ripe boobs. Her smile was nice and her hair was long and well kept. She was barely twenty, was slim, young and sexy.

'Mr. Tyson, that girlfriend of yours is barely twenty, what could she be doing with you. Is she embarassed when with you...you are tall and huge, she is slim and short...just curious!' I said.

'Jonah, have you ever seen a car jerk lifting a huge lorry, that is what my girlfriend is. I wish you can see how she lifts my huge body at that hour of the night when my naked navel and her's rub one another when all other factors are constant! You call her young? Slim? I wish you know more!'

'Yeah Manlike Tyson, maybe she likes you coz you are also sexy, young and lovely'
'Jonah you have said it!' he said as he bought more and more drinks.

With time, we created a rapport. Mr. Tyson must have been a lonely man and enjoyed my company very much. Co-incidentally, he was also the landlord of the place I was staying. For the rest of the days, we met everyday and the more we met the more he trusted and liked me. With time we were inseparable. Mr. Tyson wanted to go with me everywhere he was going. With my stories, I made his life very interesting. I was his driver most of the times and I felt like jumping out of my skin everytime we passed a police roadblock.
 

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and years. I was now long settled. I had accumulated enough money. Mr. Tyson had a land transaction he was making and it happened to be in my hometown where I had left many years ago. From his conversation, I got to know even the person he was transacting business with. He very much wanted to go with me and possibly spend some days. Listen to our conversation one day:-

'Jonah, next week I want us to go somewhere in a town in slopes. I want to buy a Petrol station there. I want us to go there and spend about a week. I will tell my girlfriend to get you a girl, a good girl. After one week with her, you will know why a guy like me is looking twenty years younger! Haaki utapenda!'

There was no way, I could go with him there where I was a runaway criminal. I hatched the plan of escaping. One week before escaping, the person who was to sell land to Mr. Tyson came to see him at home. Luckily enough, I was clean shaven, had no moustache and was speaking national language. As the visitor was ushered in , Mr. Tyson called me and introduced me to the visitor.
'Jonah, meet my honourable friend Mr. Wamukinyo! He is the guy I was telling you about!' he said with an air of importance.
'Nice-nice-N-I-C-E to meet you Sir, welcome-We-l-co-me...!'
Mr. Wamukinyo stretched his hand and looked and looked at me.

'Haiya, Jonah, you look like someone from my village. Where do you come from if I may ask?'
'I come from the lake but my grandfather's fathers had immigrated from Sugta Mal Mal,' I said not knowing whether there was such a place in this wide world.
'Oh, I have friends from the lake, where from the lake do you come from?'
'From town, Majengo, but my life has been spent in Militini, Bondeni and Tononoka...' I lied.
'Okay, Jonah, I can't wait to show you the family which look exactly like you when you come. In fact I am going to Namanga next week, I can pass through here with one of the family members!' he said.

That did it. I had to run, run and run and disappear from vicinity. Mr. Tyson could entrust me with hundreds of thousands of shillings. One time, he wanted me to buy merchandise and he left me with three hundred thousand and he left. I was to go and pay for it, deliver it in one of the warehouses then meet him in the pub at night. As his car disappeared in the main road, I took the next bus 'shuttle' and left. The rest is history. Whatever happened to Mr. Tyson (God rest his soul in eternal peace) is also history. In the course of my running away and hiding, I found myself in Harare. I stayed there for many, many years. I was married and had children.
 

Still my mind could not rest. At night I could not sleep. During the day, all was okay but wait I went to sleep...? No sooner had I gone to sleep than I started seeing pictures of elephants coming my way to kill me. I could then wake up and sleep again. Immediately I slept, I started seeing images of eagles overflying but coming my way. They were now opening their beaks wide and ready to tear my flesh. In some other incidents, I could see people throwing spears and arrows at me only to miss me by inches. I have never known peace.

I got several jobs in Harare but in every job that I had, I just found myself at loggerheads with the bosses and colleagues. At home life was not good at all. My wife who had all along loved me to death started losing interest in me. We could go for months without me knowing whether she was a 'man or woman'. In bed we slept like I was her brother and her as my sister. If by any luck we did it, she could hurriedly go to the bathroom to wash away 'my dirt' as she called it. As time went by, my boys became abusive to me. I became like a loner in my own home. Age was catching up with me and I decided to come back to my country and my people and ask for forgiveness.

Unfortunately, Mr. Tyson had long died in a car accident so I lost the chance of asking for forgiveness. The wife I had left behind when I ran away re-married and my full grown up daughter had nothing to do with me. My people accepted me back but soon started calling me a murderer. As if that was not enough, I was diagnosed with a terminal disease. As we are talking, I am just counting days because sooner or later I will be past tense.
 

My question is: When I was born, was my life designed by devil Lucifer? Why could I not lead a normal life like other people. I wish I can rewind the clock and get married again. I wish I can be young, I would treat my wife like a queen and my children like royalty. How I regret using my machismo instead of my brain that fateful night I fought that man. Why was the devil working overtime in my mind. I have no wife or children I can be connected with. There is no one to take care of me. Its too late and history will judge me very harshly. Who told the devil to come to my life?'.


I watched the old man tell all and regret all. He had his life which he messed so there was no point of being sympathetic or empathetic towards him. We can blame the devil as much as we can when things go wrong. Its not the devil, it is we who are carrying dangerous curses from our actions. I think nature provides us with a graph with X and Y axis, it is us to plot our points where we deem necessary. Devil has nothing to do with your problems, you are the problem! DEAL WITH IT!

Whispers in London (You are the problem not the devil!) Part Two

September 18 2009 at 2:28 PM

It was now getting late and in the room there was my cousin, Mr. 'Rhodesia' and I. Tension was building in the air and one would cut it with a knife. A minute ago, the old man had abused me by telling me to 'F' off. I decided to respect his age and let it go. I was a bit concerned that my cousin was not telling the man to shut up. In fact he was enjoying the whole circus. From the corner of my eyes, I saw that he was trying to laugh while at the same time pretending to wear a serious face.

'So Marcus, are you in any way concerned about the language your visitor is using on me?' I asked my cousin.
'Yeah man, every bit. I knew mister Rhodes was coming and I thanked God that you came so that you can learn a thing or two about professional boxing,' he answered.

'Professional boxing or street language...excuse me?!' I exclaimed.
'Whatever you call it...Man Man be my guest,' he said as he passed me a bottle of Tusker Lager.

I personally do not believe in holding grudges especially from older people and I decided to chat to Mr. Rhodesia as if nothing had happened. His hand was busy massaging his long white beard which broke the monotony of his dark, dark wrinkled face. I cleared my throat while I searched for the right words from my subconscious mind. One thing was certain, that there was a possibility that Mr. Rhodesia was suffering from mental Health problems associated with old age.

'So Mr. Rhodesia, tell me about yourself...say which is your most memorable blow...fight maybe...?'
'Aaah, my best blow is the one I gave to my first wife. I came home drank...like a man, I wanted to go to 'Kasarani' to bathe (?!)...and she said NO! when I said YES!. I called her a prostitute and she told me that in future she would prefer a DOG than me. I have never felt that belittled, that demeaned, that frustrated. Like lightening, I gave her a very big blow on the face and she started rotating on the same spot!' he narrated.

'Then...what? You killed her? Aah?' I asked while fidgeting.

'No she didn't...but she learned a lesson, that when I say YES and she say NO, she will take a shortcut to the next world!' he said.
'In this case, she must have developed a lot of fear for you. Am I right?'

'The better. Never be 'kaliwad' by your wife. Let her know always that you are a man in the house and when you caugh, she should answer!' he said.

'To me that is dictatorship, even communism ended, so was apartheid!' I answered.

I value family values so much. There is a difference between being respected by the wife and being feared. I prefer the later. The wife is the rock of the family and if she is not confident, that lack of confidence will tricle down to the children. When the children lack confidence, they can have a very hard time as adults because they can only be social misfits. The worst thing with lack of confidence in life is that one is taken advantage of by the society.

'Mr. Rhodesia, take me through how you ended up in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe)' I requested him as I avoided his eyes.
'Man, its a long story...how about another day?' he asked.

'Know, what, I like learning from people like you, you people who have gone to the ends of the earth, you are a very rare commodity remember, 'I said ironically.

'Okay, okay, I know that there has never been anybody like me and there will never be!' he said as he cleared his throat with some air of importance.

"After independence, decided to open a butchery in town to supplement my income. I had many customers and life was good. People knew me as a fighter. I used to go to even national competitions and win by knockouts. Unfortunately, matters were different those days. We did not have promoters not unless one was in the military. Life was a struggle.

All was going well in my business until one day when a heavily built guy visited my butchery and asked for nyama-choma. After eating to the fullest, he told me that he was not going to pay me, that my nyama-choma tasted like it has been cut from the most private part of the goat. More to that, he said that it also tasted human urine. All this was in front of my customers and some were women.

We traded words and I surprised my anger by lowering my voice. The guy continued to be stubborn. As he made to go, he told me that he was circumcised when circumcision had meaning not like me who went to line up at the local dispensary like any other patient. A friend to him decided to pay for him and I refused the money. My ego was telling to go for him. Finally I took the money from his friend and everything was now settled.

Some women customers started laughing and even told me that that was the first time they had seen me 'fold' my 'tail' like a frightened old dog. This was just too much for me. I stopped all what I was doing and followed the stubborn guy. The lion in me wanted a fight, real fight. By this time, the man had 'cooled' down. He just pushed me away. I could not take that. Through ANGER...I threw ONE PUNCH at his chest AND HE FELL ON THE GROUND like THUNDER POOOW! To me that was not enough...I still wanted to gight him more. While on the ground, he opened his eyes wide, breathed heavily and then closed his eyes and his face fell on one side. THE GUY WAS DEAD! It was too late! Now I had committed a crime, MURDER WITH VIOLENCE!

I was shaking. Fortunately, only some few children saw what had happened. I had to do something, run away from the village as fast as I could. Quickly, I went to the butchery and collected all the takings. I then went to the bus stop and headed to the next town. From the next town, I took a bus to the next big town. I went past the city and with the cover of darkness, I stopped at a certain shopping centre...I can't remember the name but it sounded Masai...ole something. It did not matter where I was so long I was out of the vicinity of the dead man and our village.

The best I could do now was to avoid being in a public place. I decided to sleep in a cheap lodging down the valley. It was a ramshackle of a long stretch of carelessly made timber rooms. The only source of light was an old lamp that could light through the next room. The memories of the dead man was still very fresh in my mind. I have never hated myself. Just supposing I listened to the people...I was tired and I fell asleep. At midnight, I was woken by screams of waah...gently...yes...yesss. Oh at least there were people making love...not murdering one another!

Join me in part there for more.
 

Whispers in London (You are the problem not the devil!) PART ONE

September 2 2009 at 5:45 PM

Are you aware that we sometimes blame the devil when we should be blaming ourselves? Not everything that we do is planned and designed by the devil. Some things we do and we assume that they are alright come to haunt us later. What goes round comes around. Whatever problems you could be undergoing now is what you planted long time ago. Its harvesting time now so rejoice and greet somebody and tell him or her that you love him. I love stories so let me share with you this one:-

It was one of those days that I was bored at home and decided to go and visit my cousin who lived on the other side of the town. On arrival I met his distant relative in his house and him chatting. I joined in and soon there was a programme on professional boxing. There was one well internationally known young man in America and another black European who were scheduled to fight that night. I understand that the fight was being watched watched by close to one billion people.

The American guy was known for knockouts. He already had 36-0 to his credit yet he was in his twenties. Within less than two minutes, he had managed to floor his opponent to the disappointment of the crowd. We were all enjoying but I could see that the relative to my cousin was enjoying more. He was clocking about seventy five years but was as strong as iron. He could not believe that a full grown man could be beaten by another like that.

'Tell me, is that a man or a woman who is being beaten by another man like that,' he asked me.
'Well, I think the other guy is just stronger than him, these things happen, its a game anyway...' I said.
'The beaten guy should not talk when other men are talking. I wonder whether he has (xxx - denoting male private parts) or (xyz - denoting female private parts)!! Aaaaaaahhhh...you men of today...!' he said in disgust.

'Supposing it were you, what would you do? You mean you have never been beaten by anybody?' I asked.

'Whaaaaaat....me being beaten? By who? where? How? I would never allow anybody to beat me, even today at my advanced age...Haaki...!! You are saying this as if you don't know about me, who does not know me? My name is Bwana Rhodesia, one and only undisputed world champion. I have had several fights in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and...Do you know what I tell people...that before they tackle me, they say a prayer because its like any of my opponent is signing a death warrant when fighting me!' he boasted.
'And by the way, I always won by knockouts, knockouts, knockouts. I can swear by my grandmother's panties (if she wore any?!) that I can give Evander Holyfield, Lennox Lewis, and Mike Tyson a run for their money!' he said as he beat his chest with a clenched fist.
 
My cousin decided to serve us beers and nyama choma as night went on. What I like about 'Kanywaji' is that it makes even the most boring person open up and 'vomit' all the secrets meant for the grave.

'So Bwana Rhodesia...the undisputed world heavyweight champion...conqueror of all beasts in the Mau Narok and Kapenguria, has any of your relatives taken after you?' I asked with curiosity.

'There you are bwana...my three sons are very good fighters. As far as I know, they have never lost a fight! Like you, even my last born 'anaweeza kukutoa' with his thumb...he's no joke!' he said pompously.

'Can I ask you where they are now, did they make a career out of boxing?' I asked with caution.

'Well, what I know is that they are scattered all over Southern Africa doing business, young, intelligent and focused is what I would term my sons as. They are men of action!!' he exclaimed.
'Aah...like father like sons eeh?' I answered.

'Whatever!'
'Whateeever...did you say? Are you not proud of them?' I asked.
'Whatever!

'Are they not your sons...did they come with their MOTHER?' I asked not knowing where the conversation was heading.
'Ask your MOTHER when I F***D her! Why are you asking A STUPID QUESTION AFTER ANOTHER?????! came his exclamation.
 
My cousin was busy pretending to be changing the channels. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that he was trying to suppress some laughter. Meanwhile, I looked and looked again at the mzee who was making some rude remarks at me. All what I was asking was about his sons who were presumably, 'world boxing champions...scattered all over Africa ya Kusini. I am normally very careful with my syntax of words especially to elderly people. I found no reason why the mzee should talk to me like that.

As I was about to answer the mzee back, I saw some tears swell on his face, soon it was a flood of tears. The whole thing looked like a circus. What was happening? Why...

(JOIN ME IN PART TWO TO KNOW MORE. ITS WORTH READING PLEASE. READ WHAT THE MZEE HAD PLANTED AND WAS NOW REAPING).

Whispers in London ( You are a slave of yourself...better forgive)

August 3 2009 at 4:24 PM

If you are reading this article, then you are made of fresh and blood but not blocks of wood. This means that you have feelings just like any other person. Somewhere in your life, you must have come across people who treated you like an Angel, others treated you like a brother or sister to Lucifer. Could you still be harbouring bitterness to those who wronged you? You could be relaxing in your house and all of a sudden the memories of what was done to you comes up, even if it is ages ago. Is it about time you forgive those who wronged you? If you don't, is there a price to pay? Absolutely!

A doctor friend of mine once told me that one of the reasons as to why we have many cases of aids victims is because we still hold some backward archaic traditions. For example there is a tribe who still have the so called 'communal sex' in every planting season. I don't want to go into details of what kind of sex that is, whether is before or 'baada ya kazi'. One does not need special knowledge to know the repercussion of such a ceremony when one or two people are gathered for the ritual and they are infected. What I know is that one can choose to do his or her planting and fake illness afterwards to avoid 'eating' contaminated 'food'. My friend continues to inform me that most of the diseases these days come as a result of stress. We can avoid them by choosing our line of thought carefully. If you are a woman and you carry ever-lasting bitterness in you, you have very high chances of having cancer. The cancer in question will normally attack the most feminine parts of your body like cervix and breasts. Please read the following story:-
 
In the company I was working for, one of the top regional managers resigned and the position was vacant. The post attracted a salary of 0.25m (take home). The fringe benefits included free housing near the city, company car and driver, free car and a driver for the family, free medical cover for the family, very good entertainment allowance, club fees and two free tickets to any destination in the world for the manager and his family. The office was well furnished with massive conference room not to mention additional things like fridges, own toilet and bathroom. It was also well carpeted and was fitted with three personal direct lines just in case... The previous holder of the post was a sixty-five year old white man.

We all waited to see who would be successful in taking over the coveted position of the Regional manager. A week later, the managing director came around introducing a young man of about twenty five years and informed us that the guy was the new regional manager. We could not believe it! For one, the past holders of the position were men who had a wealth of experience, even thirty years in the trade. The position was also very political and it needed somebody with a lion heart, guts, charisma, high level of integrity, somebody who did not care stepping on other people's toes when the need arose. The post also needed someone with high level of efficiency because in each day, memos and e-mails would be flying in his in-tray from overseas offices like lightening. One needed that X-factor! Did the young man have?

The young man, call him the regional manager adjusted well with his new coveted environment. My role was humble but it involved occasionally liaising with him and the human resources manager. We happened to have a meeting with him I noticed that the young man was made of very efficient material. One of his major task was to overturn some loss making branches to profitable ones. He outlined his ideas to us and we were all stunned. The next week was the time of action. Within six months, through his ideas, some branches even began realising a net profit of over three million US$ per month! The C.E.O. heard of the new kid on the block and both became buddies. His word whether good or bad became law in the company. If one wanted a quick sack from the company, all he or she wanted was to close his line. To say that he was feared even by the directors was an understatement. He was an achiever, young and arrogant. One thing was certain, he had a lot of respect for elderly women. On the contrary, he was very disrespectful to elderly men who were old enough to be his dads. Listen to his conversation with the transport manager in my presence one Friday afternoon:-
 
'Mr. Wanzala, can you come to my office immediately,' he would say.

'Sorry Jim, I am in the middle of the meeting with members of my department, I will be through after an hour's time, I hope you don't mind...' says the departmental head.

'Okay, I understand you don't want to come, I hope you don't mind the consequences of your failure to adhere to my instructions. You have to come even if you are giving birth! Its over to you...(BANG!),' he says.

Mr. Wanzala in this case is a man clocking sixties with thirty years experience in the company. He very well knows that he will be sacked by the regional manager who is the age of his last-born son. The best thing was to suppress the fury and run to the boss's office.

I was shocked by the regional manager's uncouth language and lack of courtesy. You just don't destroy a man's esteem anyhow. To me, Wanzala was my dad's age. More to that, he was a friend. After he came, I made to leave his office but something in me told me to correct him.

'Jim, you are a talented young manager but I do not approve the way you have talked to that man. Did you realise that you banged the phone on him? He is old enough to be your dad and you have destroyed him. Did you realise that your tone was unnecessarily high? We all need one another, don't we?' I asked him.

'Kwani, how did I talk to him? When did I raise my voice on him? I did not realise that. Anyway, I hate such men...tall, good for nothing imbeciles!!' he said.
'You call him 'Imbecile?' I asked in astonishment.

'Yes, and I can say that again. Manman, do you know that Mr. Wanzala is a distant relative from my dad's side?' he said.

I could not hear more of that and soon I left his office and went on with my work.
 
It was some minute to five o'clock when we would call it a day. My telephone rang and on the line was the regional manager;
"Manman, can I offer to buy you a drink at Carnivore this evening? I need company and all my friends are busy this evening,' he said.

We don't get offers from Regional managers all the time so my acceptance was automatic.
'Certainly yes even if its one or two hours!' I said.
'Okay then, can we make it at six, you will find me there,' he concluded.
 
At exactly six, I was parking on 'Carnivore' grounds. On entering the restaurant, I spotted Jim on the far corner. We settled down and ordered for drinks. Soon we started chatting on life matters.
'Manman, tell me the truth, I am new in the company, on the rate of 0 to 10 ten being the highest, how do you think staff rate me?' he asked.

'What do you think, If I may ask you?' I answered.

'Well, I know I am the most hated person in the Company, so I would rate myself from 0-1 out of 10,' he said.

'Before I answer you that, how were you rated by staff from previous employment?' I asked.
'Not very highly, say again from 0-1 out of 10,' he said.

'You are very right! Unfortunately you are hated by men staff but all women like you, I don't know how that has come about...' I said.
 
'Manman...can I trust you? Can you keep a secret? There is something I want to tell you about myself. Maybe you will understand me better,' he said. Now listen:
'My father and mother had a wonderful relationship when I was growing up. My dad used to ran a very good construction company and my home was like Heaven. Between mum and dad, there were no secrets. This went on for about twelve years. Everybody could see that they dearly loved one another and sky was the limit.

Unfortunately, too much love does not last for long. Soon we realised that my dad had a secret relationship with a young lady in town. He started becoming abit cold towards mum. Once in a while, he could not come back and was not spending the night at home. On being asked where he was, he could become indifferent and tell mum that his car had broken down, he was attacked by 'wakora', his gut feeling told him otherwise and all that. He became worse and he even started to physically abuse mum. She was under instructions not to have friends in home or at home. The once vibrant, beautiful mum soon became a shadow of herself. Dad was constantly reminding him that she was now old and her age mates were now tenants of the graveyard. She lost her self esteem and life had no meaning. We were used to our dad calling her darling or beautiful girl but now it was arguments, arguments and more arguments day in day out.

We started noticing that our mum's health was deteriorating. She started complaining of severe head-aches and general lack of strength especially her along the joints. She started losing hair and was not talking much. She was stressed, so stressed and was soon in a state of depression. She was in and out of all kinds of hospitals. Instead of dad encouraging her, he used to tell her that he could not see her seeing another birthday. With time, dad kicked mum out of our home after beating her mercilessly. That was our saddest moment.

Our mum went to live in town. We were under instructions never to talk to her even if we met her in town. I recall in bitterness those moments when we could see mum in town and literally run away. We loved our mum but when we thought of what dad would do to us...Years and years went by and mum's health deteriorated. Out of frustration and disappointments, mum developed mental health problems. He could spend the whole day correcting liters, talking to herself, never bathing...aaaarrrggh! By this time, dad had long married his girlfriend. He had nothing to do with us or our severely mentally sick mother.
 
One Saturday morning, on the exact day my mum was born, we heard that a mad woman in town had been found dead with deep stab wounds (eleven of them!). How we wished it was not my mum! Unfortunately, it was MUM! MUM! with stab wounds dying during her birthday???!!! WHY? WHY? WHY? Why did mum have to eat in such a narrow life? Why did she have to suffer like that? We came to realise that she was in a 'relationship' with an equally mentally disturbed man and the madness in the man instructed him to kill mum. Its now fifteen years ago and I have never forgotten. I remember her everyday. Every time I see an elderly man, I see that man who killed mum. I hate my dad with passion, he is old today, how I wish he can die NOW!' he concluded his narration.

I looked at Jim and saw that tears were flowing freely from his eyes just like me. Its true, before you judge somebody, its better to know his or her history. Here was my advice:

'Jim, too bad that your mum and your family had to undergo all that. May your mum's soul rest in peace in Heaven. Unfortunately, we cannot undo what happened. Whatever happened, happened. I can see your bitterness.

The best you can do is to find a place in your heart to forgive and move on. You have been a prisoner for the last fifteen years. Go to a quiet place and remember your mum, the time you had together. If you wish to cry, do it. Cry, cry cry. Talk more often about your mum and you will find that the bitterness will end with time. Look at the future with confidence. Do not destroy your life because your mum's life was destroyed. You cannot just wake up and forgive, it will take time. Ask God to intervene. God be with you, forgive and move on'. I advised him. With time, he felt better.

Whispers in London (As you make your bed, so you lie on it)

July 25 2009 at 8:23 PM

One of the most common thing with us Londoners is that we like to pretend to be what we are not. You are not a Jamhurian if you don't tell your friends how you had a good job in Africa, how you used to travel from Cape to Cairo when you were not shopping in Rome or London. Without blinking an eyelid, you continue to tell people that the times you have been to Tokyo are uncountable, that you can even walk through the streets of Tokyo with your eyes closed. How? The company you were working for opened an office in the famous Japanese capital. They looked around for anybody to manage the office as an expatriate and they saw that it was only you who had entrepreneurial ability and charisma to take such a job.
 

The truth of the matter is that you were working with an international company but as a tea boy or a tea girl (nothing wrong with that!). One Saturday afternoon after making tea in the company's kitchen, you as a tea boy decided to demonstrate the anger of your love to the tea girl. The managing director decided to visit the offices incognito and he wanted some tea. He looked around and all the offices were closed but there were some noises and cries coming from the kitchen. He decided to check and see who the owners of those voices were. You and the tea girl were caught red-handed in a compromising situation and both of you were sacked forthwith. Stop lyeing that you were involved in preparing the company's P & L accounts and balance sheets. You were sacked because you could not control your sexual appetite. The devil is a liar! You ended up in the west because of social, political and self problems made by you. Let us for a moment forget what bed was made in the kitchen and who made love bite to who. Listen to the story:

Tim and I had been best of friends in high school. He was a tall skinny boy with good sense of humor. I have never ever heard Tim complain of any disease. He had very good appetite and it was not a wonder for him to go to the school's kitchen and ask for more and more food after all of us had taken our share. The problem was that despite his appetite, he was not fat at all. When eating, his jaws looked as if they would go on strike and jump out of his mouth and visit the shopping centre nearby. One could count his ribs when he could remove his shirt and rest in the tropical sun. In fact the other students used to call him 'skeleton'. I am afraid they were right, he was a very close substitute of a human skeleton.
 

I was walking along in the city streets when somebody suddenly grabbed my hand and hugged me like a wrestler. I looked up and saw that he was a heavily built man. He had a well trimmed moustache. He wore black shoes with a pointed edge. His well ironed trousers matched very well with his tie. I looked up at him and I could not recognise him. He gave me a rather big smile and his massive hand held me tightly.

'Manman...I cannot believe it! This is you...you...God! I can't believe it, the world is very small...ten years now gone...so how have you been?' he asked as he looked at me straight in my eyes.

'I am okay...but who are you? Yah, you look familiar but...remind me who you are...', I said not knowing whether I was talking to a conman.

'Are you serious that you cannot remember me...remember those days...Elgon House next to Everest...at the corner there...C'mmon you must be joking...,'he said as let a prolonged laughter.

'Believe you me I ain't got a clue who you are...your surname please...' I said still not believing that I was now the centre of attraction, something I hate with passion.

'Okay Manman, remember 'Skeleton', or the 'scud missile skeleton' back those days?

Oh yes! Now I remembered. I visualised seeing the skinny 'skeleton' enter the dormitory with books and jokingly telling me to make some coffee for him so that I would enter in the guinness book of records as a man who made his dry bones come to life!

I could not believe that I was talking to Tim, former 'skeleton'. I looked and looked at him and we hugged and hugged. We had a lot to catch up. I asked him why he allowed himself to have a 'meatless' body when we were schooling. He told me that it was a very long story. From his stories I gathered that he was doing well in the right sense of the word and he was driving a brand new car. He showed me a brand new Mercedes C 180 parked nearby and told me that the car was his. As we talked his pager beeped and he showed me the message which read; 'YOU HAVE A MEETING NEXT WEDNESDAY IN LONDON SO DON'T STAY FOR LONG IN SWEDEN'. He informed me that he was flying out the country that very evening but he promised to get in touch once he was back in the country from Toulouse and Stockholm. To my opinion, Tim had closed the valley of poverty and was now crisscrossing world capitals that matter. Wonders will never cease they will only increase!. Lucky him! We moved to the other side of the road and talked and talked about those days, the teachers, students, cooks, school secretary -how her bum was wonderfully made like an African calabash etc, etc.. Time had changed, Tim was now talking with confidence. I was indeed mesmerised by the site of his Mercedes Benz car. All what I could do was to ask nature to provide me with one like that one even if I never managed to make Tim's bones come to life. With time we bid each other goodbye. No sooner had I crossed to the next street than I saw that Tim was heading to the North while his car was heading to the South, south East.

Exit two years and Tim and I had not seen or heard from each other. I tried to page him and he never called back. Maybe he was holed up in Europe...Could be he had changed the pager number...if he had not taken it for supper. Well...
 

One late evening, I was driving along the bus stop and I saw a tall figure and I decided to take a closer look. It was Tim! Again! I shouted his name and he entered the car and we drove off. We were very happy to see each other. I suggested we stop to a nearby restaurant and have some dinner. Tim had no objection. After all, I could drive him home.

We sat opposite one another and we started chatting. I noticed that this time his beard was unkempt and his shirt had some missing buttons. It was not what I would really call a clean shirt because some dry soup could be seen breaking the monotony of the green colour. We ordered some food and rolled his shirt sleeves up. He spotted a tattoo with the wordings, 'I ONLY SLEEP WITH FRIENDS'. I ignored the wordings and went on to enjoy my meal.
 

'Tim, good to see you. When did you come back? Winter is terrible isn't it?' I asked.
'Yap! Its very cold at night in the coast but Mnaazi beer is good' he answered.
'Tim, you have changed, anything wrong? What happened in your business?' I asked further.
'Manman, I am seriously looking for job, things are elephant!' he answered.
 

From his conversation, I realised that he was going through rough time and matters had taken a downward trend. It was getting late and I offered to drop Tim home so that we could talk on the way and see how best I could help. We headed to the East and drove miles and miles. I was surprised that Tim was now living in a slum. It was dangerous for me and my car to drive there. I suggested we go back and he put up in my house and he had no problem.
 

On the way we mapped out a plan on how he could run my business which I was doing alongside my formal employment. I knew him as a good guy streetwise. The following morning Tim was now employed on commission basis by me. Through his charisma, the business was doing well and he started earning handsome dividends, so was I. We became good buddies. Everyday after work, we could link up at one swallowing joint in town. We talked about business and how we would wipe competition and meet high targets. Everything was going to plan and I even left formal employment to be full time self employed. Lady luck was smiling at us because the profits skyrocketed within the first six months. Sky was the limit, we were unstoppable.

Just by good luck, we were introduced to one person who would be our main client. This was some few months towards the end of the year. From his purchasing projection, he would order from us goods and services worth millions. This translated to us earning huge profits worth smiling. The only problem was that the first order would be given in the early part of August that year. Before then, we had to have a meeting with him on a certain day in the morning so that he could explain the specifications of the order.

The following weeks, I noticed a change in attitude in Tim's character. Anytime I asked him anything, he was a bit rude. For example I could ask him for a certain file and he could inform me that I have eyes and hands also. I realised that he had managed to go behind my back and sweet talk our client. He could do the work as partners with the client and cut me from the deal. The only way to do that was to make my relationship with him as frosty as he could so that we could part ways. It came to pass, we parted ways eventually. I could not believe that my chances of becoming an instant millionaire had backfired in front of my eyes. I had never felt that disappointed, that stupid and that unlucky. My intelligence has never been that insulted!

I am a firm advocate of fairness and my belief is that if I ask God for something and he does not give me, then God is smart enough not to give me. Tim went on with meeting with my former 'would-be' client. Through me, Tim had moved from the slums to affluent suburbs in the city. He was now even dating hot working class girls. Friday was his day to go swimming in a high class hotel in the city. I understood from his friends that he was telling them how he was heading to the moon in business while I was revolving around a circle. Better for him. I have never felt that betrayed. Never in life have I ever regretted meeting him than that time.

August month, the month for sealing the deal was fast approaching and Tim was walking with one shoulder held high. By cutting me off from the deal, he would add my share to his and enter into the world of millionaires. On the day of the deal, he dressed to kill and headed to the client's office. It was now around ten o'clock. He entered in the office and he was shown where to sit and wait for the boss. Incidentally, the boss had gone to pay his electricity bill just opposite the building where his business was located. Tim waited and waited. Unfortunately, some minutes later, something happened that shook the whole world. The house where Tim was was one of the houses that were blown off by bomb blast. The once beautiful house full of life was now concrete rumble. Tim was dead, just like everybody in the building! God have mercy.
 

I learned a lesson. We have so many people who are very greedy. They do not care whose toes they are stepping on so long as their goals and objectives are met. Having money is one of the satisfaction and developing good relationships with others is another. If you are in a business and your business partner does something to burn your fingers, do not worry. Go to your knees and ask God to intervene. You could be very faithful to your hubby or wife but the other partner is not. Take heart, God is in control. One of these days your partner will catch the Virus and die and leave you to live. Has someone by any chance snatched your husband or wife? Don't worry, God has made it that way to save you. Your partner's days are numbered and God does not want you to die with him or her. Is there someone there who is always tarnishing your name? Take heart, God is in control. One of these days he or she will open his mouth to badmouth you and the mouth will refuse to close again. There is someone there who walks and drives many miles to belittle you. Take heart, one of these days his car might be involved in a very bad accident and that will be his or her end.


I was cut off from the deal and I kept quiet. I am still alive while my friend Tim is now dead. I came to realise that Tim was a conman and even the Mercedes Benz was not his. He was suffering from what psychologists call grandiose delusion whereby he believed and acted like 'superman' even when he was as stupid as an old grey mule! Supposing, I also went on and used my financial might to undercut him? I could have died instead. Lets watch our actions otherwise we will reap very bitter fruits. The wages of sin is death. How are you making your bed? Best way? If not think twice. As you make your bed, so you lie on it.

Whispers in London (Michael Jackson's death...We are all just humans!)

June 29 2009 at 11:47 AM

When I was growing up, there are two kinds of people I thought were immortal. By being immortal, I am talking of people who I never imagined that they would one day close their eyes in death and be buried in the garden. The first person was the village catechist who introduced me to Christian faith. He used to lead us in prayer and then teach us about God and what God expected of us as children as well as adults. He taught us that loving one another as you love thyself was one of the prerequisites of entering the kingdom of Heaven. The second person was our class master in lower primary. By teaching us how to read and write, he qualified to be the most educated man. He could even tell us that by closing his two eyes and looking at the moon, he could tell exactly what the people who live in the moon were eating for supper that evening. Think about someone whose eyes have got power to see the other planets and you will know what I am talking about.

Perhaps I should tell you that among my personal 'wealth' those days were six puppies. During that harvesting season, my dog gave birth to six bouncing baby dogs. They grew up just like other puppies and villagers continued to like them, especially their mother. Out of love for adventure, they decided to roam around the catechists garden without my permission. As they were leaving, they all decided to raise one leg (like their mummy) and urinate on the carrots in the garden. Coincidentally, the catechist saw them and in a split second came fuming, breathing fire and brimstone and vomiting all bad words from his brain:

'Man Man, what the hell is this eh?! Why on earth do you let these little devils come and do satanic things on my carrots...Ah? Why, why, why...Do you know I can kill all of them NOW?!' he said angrily.

During my entire life, I had never thought that men of God especially the catechist could be angry especially to one of his students. To me he was holy of the holiest, man of men and he had in him a first class ticket to Heaven. Of course I never took him seriously when he said that he could kill the puppies. I saw him look around the compound, grab a panda, do a war dance, raise a panda up on top of the puppy hovering innocently around his feet and like lightening CUT OFF its neck!! I could not believe the drama that was happening right in front of me. As if that was not enough, he raised the panga again and went on to cut the second one. I thought it was a joke this time but he cut it through the neck! Two puppies now gone. His anger was mounting and he cut the other four. There was blood of innocent puppies all over the compound. My own lovely puppies? My own puppies???!! My mum took the necessary measures and the guy was fined. He left me with a psychological scar. Even today, the picture of the puppies has never left me. I lost confidence in him completely. So he could also sin? He was just another villager who ate arrow roots and cassava.

As we grew older, we wanted to change with the world. We knew of a handsome young man from America who had a nice voice whose name was Michael Joseph Jackson. As I write this article, I am indeed saddened by his death and my message of condolences goes to his lovely family. May his soul rest in peace in Heaven. Definitely, our paths will one day meet in Heaven. Now Michael Jackson is dead. What lesson have I learned from his death? Read on: -

We all loved Michael Jackson. His songs were entertaining and interesting. His voice was melodious and his moon walk dance moves were electric and hard to copy. We tried to sing like him, dance like him and dress like him but we could not. The guy was handsome, just too handsome. If any boy had the slightest resemblance of him, he automatically qualified to own all the beautiful girls in high schools. Having many beautiful girls as a young man was the most satisfying thing by then. We adored him; we aped him, talked and talked about him. The more knowledge you had about the young man, the more modern you were perceived. It was rumoured that from his lifestyle, he would at least live more than 150 years in this planet. Some said that he was immortal, an alien at that. Was Michael Jackson a normal human being? Sample this: -

When some of us were learning ABC and simple arithmetic, he was already a music professional at the age of eleven. His 'Thriller' album was the best selling album of all times. While it is hard to break a single guineas record, Michael Jackson had a whooping thirteen Guineas world records. Not even that, he had thirteen number one singles that remained at that position for a very long period. Think of someone who sold 750 million Albums worldwide and Michael Jackson fits the description. He rubbed shoulders with the high and mighty and everybody in the world knew him. He was an American treasure and a living legend. I don't think there will be anybody in the world ever who will match his music genius. The big question is, with all that fame, power and glory, was Michael experiencing what other human beings experience? Absolutely!

Michael was just too famous that some people considered it 'close to Jesus'. Well, he was born of fresh and blood through his father Joseph Walter 'joe' Jackson and Katherine Esther on 29th of August 1958. He was the seventh child in the family. My main concern is his childhood. He had no childhood to talk about because when otherchildren of his age were playing outside, he was rehearsing for performances. This affected him so much later in life. We as parents sometimes fail our children when we expect superstars from them when us ourselves are nowhere near. We don't give them a chance to express themselves and grow as children. We sometimes take them back to our countries with the pretex that education is better there. We fail to realise that there is a very high price to pay. The opportunity cost is that we don't bond with them. We fail to take the chance of being with them because once they are adults, they go their way and map out their own destiny. Get me right, I know of parents who take their children to Africa because of love for their welfare.

The Jackson's family often talked of how they were alienated from other people. Their father was strict and abusive. Michael often talked of how his dad could make them perform and a slight mistake resulted to whipping and insults. We can be successful alright but the moment we don't encourage and appreciate our children, we fail. Why? Because they will grow with low self esteem. With all that success, why was Michael going for plastic surgery after the other. Why did he not appreciate himself? Does this low self esteem emanate from his childhood? Can anybody see why he was divorcing and died without a better half in his life? What of being 45 year old and share his bed with children? Mind you, he was never found guilty of being a paedophile. Does anybody find it odd when you see children always covered by masks? Is this normal? Lets take care how we bring about our kids. The environment has to be lovely. Our children don't have to bring 'As' in the world of academia. They can score a 'C' class but score 'A' in life.

Michael Jackson was a money making machine. In March 1988, he purchased Neverland ranch at a cost of $17 million. The ranch was a 2,700 acre farm. Did he boast about it? No! How about some of us? The moment we manage to get a mortgage through a financial institution is the time we believe that we are rich. We go to great lengths of inviting our peers for a party. The idea is to broadcast that we have at last owned a house. Our welcome speech is characterised by 'majivuno'. Look at the way the house owner talks as he gives the welcome speech. See how his left hand massages his genitals as his right hand massages his thick moustache. His wife on the other hand is by his side and wearing an undersized bra so that the 34DD boobs can reflect the importance of new social status?! All because of the mortgaged house whose title deed is with the bank until year 2087. Do us a favour, go shave that thick moustache, it makes you look more stupid than you actually are. Tell your wife to cover those 'assets' otherwise 'siku ya hukumu inakalibia'.

Who said that money can sometimes have wings and fly away? With all that money, how comes Michael was living in a rented house? How did it happen that he died with debts amounting to $500 million? Imagine owning the 2,700 acre Neverland ranch and its sold to pay debts? Last summer you bought a bull in order to sell some months later. After sometime, it died after eating contaminated maize seeds. You went into mourning and you believe that your neighbour in Jamuu bewitched it because of jealousy. You have never recovered and you are under constant stress. Think of Michael Jackson losing his 'district' plus capital involved. As if that is not enough, child molestation charges are brought against you. Before the dust has settled, law-suit after law-suit follows you. There is a limit which a normal human being can take and Michael was no exception. He was so stressed, so stressed so that I will not be surprised that his death is stress-related. We are all human beings and when confronted with a problem, we should first accept it and then know the best way possible to tackle it. Nobody wants to die young and if there is a human being stressing you, you know what to do before you go into a state of depression and die.

In 1980s Michael's fame was at the apex and this is when he was diagnosed with Vitiligo and Lupus. My grandmother would ask whether there is disease called Lokichogio and Luka. It was a disease which made his skin sensitive to light. By applying different lotions, his skin turned to the way he looked like. Many people used to say that he wanted to look white instead of black. Nothing like that. When people don't know about you, you create a vacuum and all kinds of allegations are levelled against you. Every human being is subject to his name being tarnished. You can sings songs to save the world, you can even give millions of dollars like Michael and still not satisfy the general public. The best thing in life is to have the most minimum number of friends and no know what to disclose to them as friends.

Did anybody notice how plastic surgery had transformed Michael's appearance. Some joked that by the time of his death, he lookedlike a 'mammal' (too harsh...to my opinion!) How comes nobody told him that there is a limit to everything? The moment one is too rich and famous, he is feared by the masses. We feel that when we correct them, we are contradicting their life principles? Money is power and power corrupts the world. While I believe that Michael Jackson wanted to look 'nice', he was suffering from Body dysmorphic disorder whereby he had no concept on how he was being perceived by others.
 

Behind Michael Jackson, the living legend, the great entertainer of all times was a man who was suffering physically and psychologically. He was dependent on morphine and Demerol, that means he was in very great pain. Humans should learn that money cannot buy happiness although you cannot do anything without it. Michael had huge medical cost which ran to more than $10 million. When you think of him, are you ever going to take good health for granted? Are you ever, ever going to let anybody add more stress in your life to put you to grave? Its good to give your children good discipline but don't go over limit. Do not destroy your children's life by destroying their self-esteem. Let them grow like children. Encourage them now that you have time, tomorrow that time might go. Thank God for what you have and don't see other people like they are failures. Nobody is nobody, everybody is somebody. Stop feeling so sexy and nice because of earthly possessions, leave your genitals alone and wear a bra of your size. You are and will never be like Michael Jackson and he is now dead.

Life is a journey. We came to this world with nothing and we will leave with nothing. Ask yourself this, in your death bed, what will be your wish? Would you wish you created better relationships with people. You always rub people the wrong way. You can only associate with a certain class and when talking to people its like your lips are in a mating mood...so proud! Vanity of vanity is all vanity!

Michael Jackson, I know you are in a better place. Someday our paths will meet in Heaven. Angels in Heaven all are welcoming you in chorus. We loved you but God loved you more. God bless you.

Whispers in London ( HAPPY FATHER'S DAY)

June 19 2009 at 1:17 PM

I don't think it will be necessary for me to explain who a father is or what he stands for. You must have heard this statement that, 'ANYBODY CAN BE A FATHER BUT IT TAKES SOMEONE SPECIAL TO BE A DAD'. My understanding of this is that any male who has hair on the chin and armpits can open his zip with the aim of breaking a certain vital commandment and start the journey of becoming a father. If he takes the necessary steps of being there for the kid, then he is a dad. Make no mistake, I am not talking of the supplier of the stamp (sorry...sperm) just being there in the maternity ward witnessing the birth of the baby. I am talking of the father being there and providing for the kid until the kid becomes an adult. This is the time when the father qualifies to be a dad. If you are a dad, hats off from me. Do me a favour; imagine you are slowly receiving blessings in abundance. Receive it! Receive it!

Okay, while you are still in that mood of receiving blessings, perhaps I should tell you what we people in the village used to think who a father was. We have never questioned ourselves how our fathers came to be our fathers. It was very rare that a father would not become a dad. Our small brains used to tell us that a boy was supposed to take after his father. If your father was selling charcoal, you will grow up and start the business of selling charcoal. Likewise, if your father owned a kiosk for selling 'mandazi na chai' you will follow suit and start selling them. The more prestigious job your father was doing, the more respect you gained from your peers.

One thing is certain, that we feared our fathers like death. To us, our father's word was final. If your dad asked you to jump, the safest thing was to ask how high. Our mums were very strict and its like all of them had doctorates in disciplining children. The only person who could make them shut up was our dads. It was not unusual to hear a mum giving a kid a long, long, loooong lecture on this and that and the dad coughs once and the mum stops 'msomo' and pretends to smile. His cough was to signify that the male lion in the house, the main cock that crows in the homestead and makes love to all the chicken (abled and not disabled) in the homestead is alive and kicking...WATCH THIS SPACE!!

One common factor with all village fathers was that they used to consume a lot of rice. I think this because it was very rare food. Most of them confessed that they hated eating lunch but sample this:-

The father wakes up very early in the morning before everybody else. He is served mugs and mugs of porridge. He then takes his panga and trims the fence (what for?). A father of so and so is passing by and he escorts him. They are both talking about village politics, how Kirithitina the wife of Njothibati gave birth to a baby boy who looks like a monkey who looks like Chief Kahuru Wamae. They decide to feed their tummies on the way with Mandazis and more manadazis and tea made from father Maiko's kiosk. The dad then returns home. At eleven he is fed again with six eggs and some six ripe sweet bananas. No wonder the dads never used to like eating lunch!

Despite the fear that our dads used to put on us, with them in mind, we felt safe. Personally, I could not believe that anybody could beat my father up. Every dad was a hero to is children. Listen to father of Ikinu who was my father's age-mate. We are all gathered somewhere and he is fully aware that ten or so boys can hear:

"Listen here father of Manman. Hey, hye, hye...duniani kuna watu na viatu. You won't believe what happened between me and father of Njoramu. I can categorically say that wherever he is now, he is holding his rosary because I was ready to dispatch him to the next world this morning," he says as he clears his throat.

"Baba Ikinu, what happened? Tell me more..." asks dad with bated breath.

"Listen. This morning, I got a message from baba Johana that his cow Gacheeri is not responding to the Veterinary officers seed (read artificial insemination). He asked me to take Mobutu the bull to (...XXX...unprintable!) make cow Gacheeri happy. Being a good person, me and Mobutu set foot paragasa...paragasa...paragasa to baba Johannas house...can you see us there?" he asks.
"So was Gacheeri happy at last?" asks my dad.

"Baba Manman...sometimes I laugh...Gacheeri was very, very, very happy. I wish you could see the way she was chewing cuds as the ceremony was going on," he continued.

"And so where does baba Njoramu come in?" asked my dad.
"After Mobutu and Gacheeri are happy, baba Johana paid me twenty shillings. I am now at Gathua's kiosk and I am buying a kilo of sugar. Just when I am paying, baba Njoramu's wife enters. As a good man, I offer to also buy her a kilo of sugar which she agrees. On her way she meets with her husband. She explains how I am kind hearted that I bought her a kilo of sugar. Hell breaks loose. I see him beating his wife and I ask him to stop. It is then when he breaks into obscenities. He tells me to first know how to wipe my nose before buying anything to his wife. I don't know whether you are aware that I went to the river to be circumcised not to eat sugarcane. Many people don't know that I faced the circumciser's knife twice (a major lie!) and..." he paused as he asked for some water to cool down his throat.

To cut the long story short, baba Ikinu fell down after he was given one big blow by baba Njoramu. He lost conciousness for good ten minutes. He had all along developed a habit of talking to mama Njoramu in a manner likely to suggest that he would not mind breaking a certain commandment with her.

Years have now gone and fathers have come and gone. I am now grown up and I know that being a father means more than consuming large amount of rice or ugali.

Fatherhood should never be taken for granted. Have you ever heard of this west African proverb, that a child can play with his mum's breasts but not his father's testicles? I am looking at a father being somebody who is always there for those people who are under his care. I presume that in a family unit, the mother of the children is the first born so the father should take care of her. He should guard his family jealously because that is his source of pride. Nobody should come in between the husband and wife, not even in-laws.

A father is like the driver and his family is the passengers. As the driver, he should always watch his actions and the impact those actions will have on the family. My heart pains when I see children left orphans because of aids menace. As a dad, you've got to fight those satanic temptations of fusing your body with every nobody. When you have unprotected sex with a stinger, you are putting your life and that of your entire family in the firing line. You are signing a death warrant for you and your wife. I know there are wives out there who have husbands and still have secret relationships. Aids has no cure and your time to be a permanent resident in a cemetry is just around the corner. Here is my advice, the moment you feel like you need a man other than your husband, go to the kitchen and cook a meal. You can then call your friends to have the meal and then start 'kukemea hiyo shetani mbaya'. Turn to your neighbour and tell her this: 'Neighbour, from today...I will only sleep with the father of my children even if his head is triangular in shape'. Repeat that again and again until the information sinks in your subconscious mind.
 

I have all along known that a father is someone who is very special in God's eyes. Every father likes to be treated differently on a positive perspective. One of the reasons as to why fathers abdicate their responsibilities is when they are shown that they are 'less' men. Worse still, when a man is compared with father of so and so, he loses self-esteem and life stops to have any meaning. A father should always be shown that he adds value to the family but not being told that he is a waste of space and he is in this world to just fill the toilets.

The best father to my opinion is the one who the wife and children feel free to be around with. I admire those fathers who have a sense of humor, those who are positive and looks for a better tomorrow. I hate with passion those fathers who behave like headmasters to their wives and children. How about creating dirty jokes to your wife even if you are born again to death? How about sending 'stupid' text messages to her? Why on earth should one take life as if he will remain in this world forever?

I am aware that there are those fathers who don't deserve to be called fathers but 'majambazi'. If you are there and you created a kid with someone and you neglected the kid, I have a message for you. You are under a curse. The moment the mum to the kid sheds her tears and remembers how you were breathing on top of her that night when she conceived is the moment the curse befalls on you. How does it feel to know that you have a kid, yes, a kid...and another kid and you don't help them? How do you feel when you see other children waiting to buy ice cream from icecream van and your children are scavenging for food in Dandora waste site? Don't you feel the pain when you see other parents laughing and joking with their kids? How do you feel when you see other children coming out of the public library and you have no clue which hole yours are? The clock is ticking and there is God somewhere who is watching you. Why do you think that when good luck is sweeping across the land, you are left out? Do you know why everyday is a nightmare to you? Because you are under a curse and there are chances of of you dying before your time. What are you for if you are blessed with children and they are suffering when you are behaving like a he-goat, moving from one sister to the other sniffing (?!)

Its never too late. Take that phone and call those people who call you our father. Talk to that mother of your kids. Give her a word of encouragement. Send her pounds or dollars or euros or whatever have you. You are paid in legal tender not pub*c hair!

There are good fathers there. To you good fathers, God is with you and your loved ones. After you are dead, leave a good legacy. Let those children and the wife remember you as a jewel. Let them cry real tears during your funeral but not crocodile tears. Come father's day, lets all celebrate and tell each other, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Whispers in London (A stitch in time saves nine)

June 3 2009 at 2:38 PM

I remember writing that at times circumstances can force you to have eyes and not see and also having ears and not hearing. This is because there are so many things in the present world that can drive you crazy. If you are angered by anything that does not please you, then you are a very potential client of mental health hospital. You might have seen people who wear a face which looks like, 'I can commit murder anytime'. Woo unto you if he or she is your hubby, wife, partner, flat-mate or sex partner. Forget those London cursed names like sweethearts, sweetie, boo, darling etc, which couples call themselves during birthdays, baby showers, in church or in funerals. Those 'good for nothing' words are replaced by names that we call our animals in the privacy oftheir bedrooms. All what Manman is saying is he has a lot of pity to those people who don't have a sense of humour, those who take everything very serious, so serious as if they will permanent tenants in this wide world. Thats well said, but then...

Get me right. Iam not in anyway suggesting that when it comes to matters that affect your life and your loved ones, you have to create humour and hide your head in the sand. No way! This is the time to come in the open, speak at the top of your voice, put your best foot forward and say NO and put a sign, 'NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT, TRESPASSERS WILL BE EATEN UP BY DOGGIE!' People kill each other for sport and if you find yourself saying, yes, yes, yes all the time, you have a problem. If you find someone tarnishing your name or your loved ones, even if its your brother or sister, its about time you confronted them. Worse still, you should keep their file in a very high shelf. In a nutshell, if you find yourself landing in a problem, the best thing is to confront the problem at an early stage before it escalates to a very big tragedy. You must have heard this methali, 'usipoziba ufa, utajeenga ukuta' Perhaps let me explain all this with a small story. Read on:-

I used to work work with people who I sometimes found to have been very strange. During breaktime in the canteen, they used to talk so loudly. A very simple discussion was characterised by loud laughter, screaming, a lot of shouting, gestures-obscene and not very obscene. Most of them claimed to have 'kem frem Seuth Efrike' (read come from South Africa). Whether that was true or false, I could not tell. Another thing, their women were extremely hardworking, polite and well mannered. One common feature with them was that they had big physique most notably their bums. My friend Papa Ajasco (remember him?)used to tell me that when walking, they used to make grown up men suffer after imagining one or two things which can make somebody a first class ticket to the lake of fire in hell. My mind is telling me to write and write about some other 'hidden' things but integrity is an overriding principle in my life.

I happened to be working with one of the ladies by the name Petrolnilla who I will never forget in my life. One day she requested me for a lift home and I agreed. Her boyfriend was the owner of the car that she used to come to work with. The guy was not feeling well from the previous day and so he could not come to work. Strangely enough, I never knew who the boyfriend was and what car they used to drive.

It was in the morning and we were now ready to go home. I opened my car and she entered. She opened the car and suddenly rested her big round bum in the car seat. She adjusted herseat belt and we were ready to move. As we left the gate, we started chatting and she had this to say;

"Thanks Manman for the lift, they say that God sends his Angels, you must be my Angel today..." she said.

"Never mind, never mind. Its just a lift, furthermore I am headed to the same direction as you are going," I said.

"Yeah but not everyone will reason that way. Some people find it very hard to help others. If my people were good, I could have asked them!" she said.

"Tell me, what a crazy name is Petrolnilla...who gave you that name, your grandfather?" I casually asked her to relieve tension by changing the subject.

"Nah, nah...infact they call me SUPER...SUPER...LADY SUPER. Get me right, nothing to do with Super petrol, unleaded or diesel. Look at me, I look small from the front, but take a careful look at my behind...my BUM...hump, my hump, my hump, my HUMP! I am a REAL BUS...waah...WATCH THIS!" she said with an air of importance.

We drove along, left the exit and joined the motorway. I had never had 'one to one' conversation with Petrolnilla (sorry lady SUPER...my hump, my hump squared,cubed or whatever). I was now fully convinced that she must have taken something illegal at breaktime. We were now in full speed in the motorway and there was some silence. She removed her jumper. From the passenger mirror, I saw her adjust her 'boobies' and her glasses as we drove on.

"So Lady Super, are you 'merried'?" I asked her while mimmicking her accent.

"Not yet but I hev e boyfriend who I see everyday" she answered.

"Wow...and who is the lucky guy? Who is the owner of the 'REAL BUS'?" I asked.

"You must be joking, you mean you don't know Steve? That young man in packaging department? He is younger than me by ten years but that does not mean that he is ten years late as far as MEN matters are concerned," she said.
"What do you mean...MEN matters?" I asked not knowing whether I was invading her privacy.

"Look here Manman. Steve is electric, live wire...but I am the current. Waah, life has never been this better... Like today when I go home, I will find him at home. Hopefully, he has recovered so I will be in control. I will go home, prepare breakfast, serve him, take a shower and I take control," she said while looking at me as if to get my approval.

"You will go take a shower...be in control...meaning what?" I asked as I looked straight ahead to avoid the piling traffic ahead.

"I will remove all my clothes...jump into the bed and tell him...shoooosh...I am now in control...sweetie do not even do anything. I will be on top of him while he will be on top of the world. Then you know what...I will watch him close his eyes as if he is in another world. I will also be in another world possibly sending imaginary greetings to my ancestors!" She said as she moved her bum from side to side to prove the point across.

I looked at her and I pretended not to laugh as I kept on driving. I was enjoying every moment and I was wishing the traffic will pile one more time. I had not picturised who Steve was but I suddenly remembered him. He is one short, very slim, dark guy in his mid twenties. He also claimed to have come from 'Seuth Efrica'. More to that, he claimed to own pig farms in Johannesburgh and Walvis Bay in Botswana. He also had shown me photos of his great magnificent mansions located near Harare in 'Zimbebwe' (read Zimbabwe). Whether that was true or not, I could not tell.

On coming Saturday, just by coincidence, I met Steve in my swallowing joint. We started talking. As I looked at him, I could not believe that he was the guy I was told about the other day by his girlfriend. I Visualised how his 'REAL BUS' was in control, how he was being watched 'dying' and all that.

"Steve, lucky Steve...you are a lucky guy. You and Petrolnilla are an item innit?" I asked him.

"Mmmm...mmmm...eerrr....yah.yaaah...sort of....brrrrrr...aah!" he said.

"Steve, sorry if I asked the wrong question...just out of curiosity and..." I said.

"Ah men! Men,men,meeeen...I am tired...tired,tired,tired of this shi* meeen!" he said as he looked up in disgust.

"Manman, I am in deep shi*, how the hell did I enter into this relationship in the first place? How could I have been so blind?" he asked disappointingly.

"You mean you are not happy? I thought your lady has got all what it takes anytime she walks near men...anawaumiiza?" I said.
"Cut the clap! That lady has a very big mouth in the first place. No confidentiality. She parades our relationship to everybody, even bed matters, positions, times a  aarrrrgggh! f*** all! I am tired! But how?" he asked.

I had this advice after listening to him. That as you make your bed so you lie on it. He was in a position to end the relationship before it went to a higher height. He never did and he was paying the price. Just like him, many people found themselves in a relationship that could not have been there in the first place. I cannot imagine that there are women who are physically abused by their husbands. With all the resources in the west, how does that happen? The best such a victim would have done was to react like a volcano the very first time her husband beat her up. You are bullied because you allow it.

Would it come as a surprise to you if you find that your child has joined a gang? That he has been involved in a gangfight and he has been stabbed to death. Would you start praying and fasting if you find that your daughter is selling her body to buy coccaine? For one you have never been there when your children are growing up. You have never bothered to check how your children are doing in school. You have heard your kid say swear words to your neighbour and you thought that was cool? Your children sleep late because they are always in the computer and playing games? They are chatting with the devil knows who? Still you don't care? You and your hubby are always fighting, shouting at one another infront of your kids? Will you be shocked when you will hear that your child has killed his wife when he grows up? Will you cry and throw tantrums and ask the devil to leave you alone (because you are not of debt but cash cash) when your children will come out with nothing from school? Put it this way, with all this peer pressure among youth, will you be surprised when your child jumps in the rails and is killed by speeding train? When is the last time you took time to tell your kid about positive thinking. What about a good bible based church? God be with you.

Have you ever asked yourself why your spouse answers his/her phone in isolation? Any chance of secret relationship? What of that 'cousin' who phones your hubby/wife at midnight just to tell him or her that there is snow on top of mount Kenya? Ever wondered why your spouses statements always find their way in the bin? Because he was in Edinburgh (while his address is in Plymouth) with a mistress. You will see the statement which shows a transaction from Ann Summers in Edinburgh and ask why and how? What of that expensive tie bought by your wife in Aberdeen? For who? Why?
 
Its about time we confronted problems as they arise. There is no point of waiting. They say that Britain got talent, I say a stitch in time saves nine.

Whispers in London (Have eyes and not see, have ears and not hear)

May 10 2009 at 2:26 PM

I am told that in the village I was born and brought up, education was not given a lot of preference by those fathers who fathered our fathers. All in all, as in every society, there were those who took advantage of the ignorance of the general public and took their children to school. With time, our fathers came to realise that one was to be educated inorder to have a good job. There were those people who were educated, got some scholarships to study abroad. By going abroad mainly to western Europe and America, one became an instant celebrity. By being a celebrity, it meant that if you were a guy, no one could talk before you talk. All village girls, thin, fat, tall, short, with big boobs or small boobs all pledged royalty to you. To them, if you were their boyfriend and a husband later, one would automatically cross the line of poverty. You would go to live in the city of many lights unlike in the village where you shared your bedroom with your parents mischievous goats.

We admired people who had come from abroad. I happened to have my cousins who had come to study in Britain. If I say that I admired and adored them, that would be a misstatement. I admired the way they talked, the way they laughed, they jokes they told. They came dressed in the latest fashions. They could be able to hire a car and move around as they pleased. They had good cash and once with them, your tummy could escape eating cassava and arrow roots but foreign food with foreign names in a good five star hotel. During Christmas time, some would inform us that they had never missed turkey as their main dish. Christmas time was not Christmas if turkey was not included in the menu. This made all of us hold being in the Diaspora with a lot of esteem. We were told that once an African set his foot in western countries, poverty and stupid diseases brought about by witchcraft instantly became strange bedfellows. We were made to understand that life in abroad was easy, nice, interesting as a kissing game. Fair enough, so far so good. Were there some dark sides associated with abroad that our smoke infested eyes could see and 'not' see. Put it another way, were there things that our ears, now that they are away from hyenas and wild beasts should hear and 'not' hear?

My grandfather, the one who owned several wives and children died many years ago was buried. I would run many miles away if he resurrected today and came to visit me here in London. I saw in the Tv an incident which will forever remain in my mind. A middle aged woman was giving birth at home. She had immersed her naked body in the water and was in the process of giving birth. With them was their five year old son who was to witness the birth of his sister whose expected time of arrival was two minutes to come. Here is the mum, the dad and the little boy witnessing birth. The mum's nakedness is all there for the boy to see. Visualise the boy seeing the baby's head appearing (na mwendo was kiaste aste..whatever that means!) from a secret tunnel whose owner is her mum who gave birth to her some few summers ago.

I need to close my ears as well as shut my eyes when I see a full grown up man with hair on the chest being being addressed by his real name (not mum or dad) by a nursely school kid who was born the other day Agwambo or Tingatinga decided to tell the father of Jimmy that his plate of ugali should have the same mass and energy when all other things are constant. How sixty year old man and wife should call each other boyfriend and girlfriend in front of my ears and eyes is something I need special knowledge to understand.

I was with my friend some years back and we were having a drink at our swallowing joint in the North. It was going to eleven at night. We were laughing and laughing, thats the good thing with 'kanywaji', it makes you forget your problems big or small. Kanywaji also makes one 'say all what he has all wanted to say' because the moment shame meets 'kanywaji' shame starts to 'kutetemeega', meaning that when intoxicated with alcohol, one can even tell his father-in-law how his daughter performs in bed! Shetani ashidwe!
On looking at my friend, I saw him going through text messages. He looked troubled by one which read; ;'YOU SHOULD BRING MY CAR BACK COZ YOU WENT OUT LAST WEEKEND. I AM ALSO GOING CLUBBING WITH MY MATES!' I anxiously waited to see my friend's reaction. He seemed angry but he tried to play it cool by asking me what I wanted. I told him that I wanted a cold Foster beer. He then went to the gents not to do either number one or two but to reply his mrs. On coming back, the guy told me that he had to take the car so that the wife can go clubbing. Not even that, he was to take care of their one year old baby throught the night. Before he finished taking his beer, his mobile phone rang. He was not in the mood of talking so he gave me the phone to answer. The number was now withheld;
 

"Hallo, can I help you...who is that? Sorry...who...?" I asked though I could tell it was his mrs.

"Aah...ManMan...its you, long time no see. You two are having a good time innit. Even me today 'lazima nipeewe!'", she said.
"Thats good, but who are you going to leave your baby with, she is only one year old and breastfeeding remember," I told her.
"Did you say breastfeeding ManMan? Kwani what planet do you live? Women do not breastfeed these days, boobs are our precious assets that should always remain 'saa sita kasolombo' so all that nonsense about breastfeeding is a big peace of shi* followed by a very big 'F'", she said.

"Talking about assets, I thought the best asset is the brain, your mind to be exact. Never mind, you are leaving the baby with who?" I asked.

"Now why ask the obvious question! Its like asking whether 'Yesu ni mwana wa Mungu'! Of course I will leave the baby with the dad. I always do and come in the morning and then..." she paused.

"Then what?" I asked curiously.

"He opens the door for me in the morning and since I am not sober because I have taken something...he asks me whether I would want to eat crumbled or boiled eggs for breakfast. It is after I am full that we then have what we call, 'morning glory' meaning making love as if tomorrow will never come!" she concluded.

"Okay, sweetheart, best of luck, have a good morning and remember to spice up the groly," I said.

Some behaviour that we acquire just because we are in the west are disgusting. We sometimes lack integrity and this is not in tune with wonders of God's goodness. When a wife convinces herself that she is in 'kwa Wangu' where men are supposed to be seen and not heard, that's the time her and the Satan starts having a covenant (deal). I maintain that a wife is supposed to submit to the husband. I don't refute the fact that there are husbands who are provided by the devil. Those are the husbands that should be avoided like plague. Likewise, those wives with 'abroad' mentality should be avoided. To some extent, I think divorce is justified although it should be the last thing.

The other day I was relaxing in my garden. Some three young boys of about twelve years came along. They greeted me and then asked me whether I would want to buy cannabis. I could not believe it! I politely told them that I don't take cannabis. Before they left, I asked them whether they take cannabis that they sell. They all said in chorus, "YES!" I went on to lecture them on the side effects of taking it. They informed me that they take it to elevate their mind. Finally, they found me to be a bore and one of them told me to 'F' off by showing me his middle finger. If I retaliated and beat them up, I would have a criminal record. Having a criminal record has very disastrous effect on your social, economic and political standing in the west. Being not too clever neither being stupid, I kept quiet and wished them well.
 

Those people who happened to have come to live and study abroad failed to tell us that once in the west, you have got to assume things as they come. They failed to tell us that once in the west, if one took life too seriously, he would end up in a mental hospital. On money, what they forgot to tell us was that one had to work and work to have food on the table. All that nonsense of money dropping from the sky was crap! What of moral standards? How about culture shock? It pays to have eyes and not see and have ears and not hear.

Whispers in London (When you point your finger at someone...)

April 26 2009

Some years ago, I was watching a programme about men from a certain place in this wide world. The topic was about their sex life. I was very new in the UK and I could not believe that sex matters could be discussed openly on the T.V. I found it very amusing and I could not help laughing when I heard one man say that when their 'god' started making some secret vital parts of the anatomy, 'he' got a phone call in the middle of making it complete and so 'he' left it growing. By the time 'he' finished 'his' phone call, the secret part was so big, so big so...that even 'he himself' could not believe that it could fit a human being. The men I am talking about will remain anonymous for obvious reasons. I came to realise that they are men who like spotting dreadlocks and to them a man is not a man if he does not smoke the weed. To cut the long story short, those men are well known for their prowess in bed matters even today. If one can point a finger at them and accuse them of being blessed with those vital parts, he will be telling the truth.
 
Okay, take a riddle. Where on earth would you find a person thinking and dreaming about money all the time? The answer is simple; just listen to a group of people saying, 'niwaanyiita? Hau niwaanyiita?' or talking about, 'mboooi isi, mbooi isio' or something like that. That kind of talk come from people from Jamhuri and Jamhuri people are known for pointing fingers at the other people. To understand what Iam talking about, here is a story, very real by the way:-

In Jamhuri, we had good social life. Many people from place used to meet on Fridays in a certain bar in River road. It did not matter where you worked or lived but if one wanted to feel at home, you had to meet there. Nyama Choma, Kachubari, ugali and Kienyeji were there in plenty. Tuskers, Pilsners, Whitecups and Castle lager used to irrigate our throats like a mighty river. All the drinks were served hot or cold by one barmaid who went by the name 'Sikukuu' or 'Thiguuku kanini ka weendo'. At around midnight when all of us were dead drunk, we could drive to our respective homes. With no penalty points and no speed cameras, life was good, nice and easy. Who said life is hard. Sometimes life is a holiday.

There was one guy among people from our place who had a business of importing products rom the neighbouring countries. His business was doing well in the right sense of the word. He was a very hardworking gentleman, was monied and was married. Unfortunately, he had not gone very far with education and so some of his business proposals could sometimes find him in the so called catch twenty two situations. Another thing, he believed that he was the best in everything, in business, money making, 'tuning' ladies and all that. Anytime he was in our midst, he could talk very loudly so that he could be the centre of attraction. We had nicknamed him 'Mister Flavour'. Talk about Gulf war; he knew the 'owner'. Call him Saddam Hussein who even manufactured his own water...bra...bra...bra...scud missiles, they were manufactured where, by who, delivered to who, at what time...that was kind of his talk. The best we could do was to just keep quiet and listen to him exercise his jaws as he vomited all what he had swallowed during the day.

We happened to be talking about Aids, how it might wipe out our entire community if we men did not zip their pants. Out of nowhere Mr. Flavour came and ordered his beers. In the middle of the conversation, he started interfearing with our conversation. Here he comes:

"Hey, hey, hey Man Man...its good you have brought up this topic of aids. Do you know Joel...Joel...have you seen the way he has grown thin...hey bwana, have you seen his lips...the way they are red? We can bet...now...now...I can give you ten thousand shillings if Joel will see the morning of the first of January next year!!! Haaki! I swear by the sky blue thong of my grandmother! I am telling you Joel is finished! Finished kabisa! He not only has a running nose but also a running a*s! I have been telling him not to make sex his religion. People have ears and they don't hear, eyes and they don't see. Waacha tuu!"
 
No sooner had he finished his conversation than Joel entered the bar. On seeing him, he jumped on his seat and he started laughing and pointing at him:

"Hey, Joel, I think I am a prophet...Oh Yes... I am! Mention the devil and it appears! A minute ago I was talking about you. Wewe bwana...enda nyumbani, buy a coffin because you are finished!" he said.

Joel just ignored him and looked at the direction of the counter where barmaid Sikukuu was serving. He asked her to come and take his order of two Tusker baridi. He continued talking to us as if had heard nothing detrimental to his social standing. As he took his coat, his hand veins could be seen interlocking each other harshly. He had of late lost a lot of wait and his hair was receding. They say that that the best way to treat an insult is to let it flow through one ear and come out of the other ear. One could tension with the knife in the table we were seated. After some few minutes, Flavour realised that we were not ready to join in his tarnishing mission. I recall introducing topics on weather, about intertropical convergence zone, about planets in their perfect orbit etc, etc. To Mister Flavour, this was an unfamiliar territory and so the best he could do was to leave our table and find another one where he could be the Alpha male.

However much Joel tried to hide his anger, I could see it in his body language. Here was my advice:-

 

"Joel, just try to forget what Mr. Flavour has told you. We have not taken anything on board. Remember the wiseman saying, 'don't let bastards wear you down' or in Latin, 'illigitimi non carborundum'" I told him knowing full well that his heath was deteriorating.

"Man Man, of course I am sick but that does not mean that I am dying tomorrow. You heard Mr. Flavour telling me to go and buy a coffin. Who knows? He might buy his before me...you never know of tomorrow. In fact Flavour is the worst adulterer of all times and here he is prophesying my death. Its God who gives life, we are all human and we can all be tempted. If the devil tempted Jesus, who are we not to be tempted, us who eat boiled and crumbled eggs?" he said as his red lips came into contact with the beer glass.

After about thirty minutes, we saw Mister Flavour prepare to go home. As he adjusted his collar, his eyes came into contact with Joel's and Joel raised his middle finger at him. The best we could assume was that Joel was a Kanu life member which was baba na mama at that time. Mister Flavour did not take it lightly. In a split second, he came near our table and made to slap Joel but he stopped when his hand was in full flight. But he had this to say:-
"Know what? Its only because of that...which I cannot mention (read aids)...er...er..ha! ha! otherwise you could have seen the metal I am made of!".

After that he went away and disappeared in the darkness.

Exit one month and Joel's health improved. By strange turn of events Mr. Flavour started to limp, followed by uncontrollable coughing. His lips turned red. He moved from this hospital to the other, still not getting well. After three months, he could barely talk. One Friday evening, he succumbed to death. Did he point a finger at someone? After one week we buried him. The next year came, Joel was still in robust health but somewhere in the middle of the year, his health became worse and he too died.

The most common characteristic with Jamhurians is pointing a finger at each other. You cannot be a true person from Jamhuri if you don't have someone somewhere who you are yet to settle scores with. Nobody is perfect. Why are we very eager to correct others when we cannot first correct ourselves. Sometimes we talk about people with aids as if we are made of plastic. Remember that time you had one night stand with that guy who serves tea in your office. He told you how beautiful you are and even if you step on an egg, it could not break because you are beautifully, fearfully and wonderfully made. He also informed you that he was a virgin, that he had never eaten 'karanga chapo' in season and out of season. You forgot that 'yeye alikuwa Jamhuri na akachoota ukimwi'. Unknown to you, you are infected, so is your wife. God forbid!

Do you by any chance think that your friends see you as clever, intelligent and wise? No, no, no, to them you are more stupid than your grandfather...that who had rental rooms at Ngomomgo before they were destroyed and carried away to god knows where by El-Nino rains. Your best friend is yourself. Stop condemning people before condemning yourself because you could be worse. Imagine this; that when you point your finger at someone, many more fingers are pointing at you!

Whispers in London ( Remembering Jesus death and resurrection)

April 11 2009

I am sure that there are many people out there who will agree with me that the name of Jesus Christ is most of the times used out of context. There are some who can prophesy to themselves that Jesus has talked to them and told them to be a pastor on day 1. On day 2, the same 'Jesus' will tell them to be a bishop and on the the third day, their 'holy spirit' will tell them that the name pastor or bishop aint cool enough and they should be reffered to as arch-bishop so and so. Don't mistake that the church has about three to five members. In case you forget, the wife is included in those five church members and her name is no longer 'nyiina wa Gituache' but, 'Her holiness, one and only, the First lady of Church XYZ'. Tell the one seated next to you this: Jesus is not for sale and there is only one Jesus who died for our sins so that we will not perish but have eternal life. For your information, I love Jesus and I wholly believe that when my eyelids close in death, I will be seated with him.

The Jesus I am talking about was born in 4 or 6 B.C. and died around 30 A.D. The bible is silent about Jesus early life but that is not what I am interested with today. I am trying to put my mind on those days especially during the last days when Jesus Christ died. This is the same Jesus who had one time made me hate my own grandmother. How and why did this happen?
 

When I was growing up, we used to go for Sunday school and we started learning about Jesus. We learned about how he was born, how he was praying and healing the sick, how he used to perform miracles like breaking five loaves of bread to feed five thousand breathing men with hair on their chests. Now this made us children admire Jesus. Then came the bombshell! The same people he was healing, performing miracles, signs and wonders were the same people who engineered his murder. One day, I had the audacity of asking my elder brother who was among those who killed Jesus. Out of ignorance or not knowing who the murderers were, he made one mistake! He told me that my grandmother, in conjunction with other equally evil minded people killed Jesus on the area around my grandfather's grave. That did it, from then on, I developed a tremendous hate for my grandmother. Come Easter holiday, she came to 'eat sikukuu ya Easter' at our place. I remember giving her a very long lecture on how Jesus was a good man and she will burn in the hottest spot in hell for being such a 'murderer'. Instead of my grandmother telling me that it was a lie, she went on to tell me that she can do that again if Jesus resurrected from the death! One can just imagine the impact on my relationship with my grandmother henceforth.

Jesus had supper with his disciples in Southwest of Jerusalem. When people had that he was coming, they celebrated for he was the king of the Jews. He decided to travel to Mount Of Olives and Garden of Gethsemane. This is where he was arrested. By calling himself the King of Jews, he rubbed the then government in power the wrong way. He was arrested on what we call blasphemy. After moving from one trail court to the other, the court judges did not find any criminal offence against him. But what did the general public say? That he had to be tried. Not wanting to go against the wishes of the people, the Judge tried Jesus with blasphemy which was punishable by death as pertained the laws of the land by the then Government.
 

One person I will never forgive is this Jesus' friend called Peter who doubled up as his disciple. He had been with Jesus all along. He had seen him perform miracles, signs and wonders all over but when asked by Askaris whether he knew that man (Jesus) who was arrested while praying in the garden of Gethsemane, he said he had never seen him, leave alone knowing him. Don't forget that this is the same guy who had been eating ugali with him the day before. Another traitor is Judas Iscariot the thief. He was asked by Roman soldiers to identify Jesus by a kiss. He went on to kiss Jesus and from there Jesus was taken to Pontius Pilate for interrogation. Judas was rewarded with thirty pieces of silver for betraying his master. He never used the money because he died shortly afterwards. Some theories have it that he died after being stoned by other disciples, others have it that he fell in his land and his intestines even came out. How I wish its true.

I am not surprised by traitor Peter's actions. All of us have witnessed some kind of betrayal from those people who are otherwise supposed to be close to us. I have heard some people say that the less relatives you have in the west, the better. Why? The same people who should stand by you are the same people who tarnish your name back home. They are the people who should make your life comfortable but any minute with them is like signing a death warrant without your knowledge. I don't know of anybody who speaks the truth always. We all have tell lies sometimes to elevate our profile among our peers but wait when your brothers or sisters hear your lies. For example you can tell people that you were born in church when your mother was in the middle of preaching the gospel. That as soon as your mom asked the congregation to open their bibles and read Mathew, Mark, Luke, John, Apostles, you started kicking in her belly because you wanted to also hear the good news. When your siblings hear this lie, they will tell people that in fact you were born near the village cattle dip one early cold morning when your mum was on her way to Maternity hospital which was twenty miles away. Not even that, that you behave like a 'D.O.G.' because the knife to cut the umbilical cord was borrowed from a Mr. Yaah who owned many dogs for hunting porcupines in his shamba. They will tell people that you inherited that 'D.O.G.' spirit years before the Jamhuri became a republic. Of course, the idea is to inform people that you are not as young as you would want people to believe.
 

I have a strong feeling that the powers that be were Jealous of Jesus deeds. Think of someone who would defy the force of gravity and walk on water? Imagine him raising Lazarus from the dead? How about calming water in the sea? I don't know of anybody who can do these wonders. Wait a minute...wait a minute! How about praying for barren women and they bring forth miracle babies? Only from Jamhurian man of God.

The masses wanted Jesus dead and it came to pass. My heart skips a beat when I imagine the beatings. He was not beaten by a normal whip but one which had some metal at the end and some sheep bones to cut fresh thoroughly anytime the whip came into contact with his body. Why was he beaten? Simply because of his goodness. Period.

Have you ever suffered because of your kind actions. Personally I have...big time. Anytime I write an article, there are those who draw a correlation between what I have written and their normal life. They feel that I am mocking them and what happens...matusi tele through my e-mail address. Like Jesus, I forgive you and I love you brethren. Life would be very boring if everybody talked good about me.

Jesus died and on the third day he resurrected and went to prepare a place for us. There is and there will never be anybody like Jesus. He told us that during the final days, many will call the name of the father in his name. They will even cast demons in his name. Are they the days we are experiencing? I heard one pastor ask why those pastors who touch people and make them fall first fall themselves if its the work of the holy spirit. I don't know whether the pastor is right or wrong. The thing is, Jesus Christ is the son of God and none will be like him.

Enjoy your Easter and join a good bible based church where the word of God comes before the size of your wallet. God bless you.

Whispers in London (To you mothers...Happy Mothers day!)

March 22, 2009

To you mothers out there, mine is to wish you a happy mother's day. Even if you are not a mother yet, your day will come and you will be blessed with a kid. I don't know whether its a good idea to be beside your wife when she is giving birth. Many people reason that when the husband is there beside the wife when the birth process is going on, he will empathise with the wife and it will be like he is also 'giving' birth. While I somehow agree with this, I am left to wonder why men, after witnessing the pain that the wife goes through would have the audacity to mistreat her afterwards. What I know is that the hubby will be beside you and watch you undergo the pain. He will wipe away tears at that time, he can even cry and yawn, even chew cuds to emphasise how he is also 'giving birth' like you but come thirty minutes later, he will be eating fried chicken and chips at KFC without a care in the world. If you think that he cannot 'fuse' his body with a mistress that day, you are mistaken my 'siter woh'. Maternity feelings are better left in the maternity.

When I was growing up, my idea of a mother was someone who was always shouting at her children. To me, she was a one angry monster who was only happy when the hubby arrived from the city or when visitors called for a visit. At this particular time, us children were spared 'msomo' but wait when the hubby or visitors left, the monster in our mothers would wake up and terrorise us. All this was in a bid to make us responsible people when we would become adults.

May I inform you that I have had the privilege of being blessed with a wonderful mother who can die for me. I can write and write about her but I am sure the enemies of development would accuse me of blowing my own trumpet. My message to them is that I can even play drums and guitar. Would you mind If I told you about my neighbour who was a mother to several children and a wife to one and only baba Njuthiito (corrupt name for Justus). Please read on:-

Throughout my early life, I had always seen mama Njuthiito either pregnant or carrying a tiny baby. Come the next harvesting season, her tummy could once again protrude to proclaim that during the planting and harvesting season, she was not using a bed for sleeping only. She was a tall, beautiful woman. The most amazing thing was that in the village, women did not know about maternity dresses or bra or some other things I cannot mention to maintain my integrity in this column. Some villager used to say that from the way her tummy used to be big during pregnancy, there must have been a baby and a big Mongoose who had rented a space in her tummy. To her in particular, she had brought forth in this wide world a total of eighteen children. This does not mean that she had seen the inside of a maternity for a total of eighteen times in her lifetime. She could be seen the previous day in the garden uprooting weeds. At night she could have labour pains. The children could then be told to come and sleep in our house with us. An old woman who was rumoured to have midwifery skills would be called to help in delivering the baby. After some few minutes, the baby will be born. Come in the morning, she could tell her children to come home and welcome their visitor. Sometimes during the day, she will be seen in the shopping centre doing shopping as if nothing had happened the day before. She never used to care what people said behind her back on having several children. To her, other people's opinion did not have to be her reality.

Baba Njuthiito on the hand was a small man. His height fell far less than an average male. He was very dark and muscular. To supplement his income, he ran a butchery in the shopping centre. In his small farm, he reared goats, sheep and pigs. He liked eating the liver because to him, livers were rich in vitamins. He was able to provide for his kids though not with excess in life. Many people mocked him on his having so many children and also for his quick temper. One could talk anything under the sun but not when it came to matters touching his wife and children. At one time, a drunken man came to his butchery and started mocking him:
"Hey baba Njuthiito, why don't you give your wife a rest...I saw your wife today heavily pregnant...just last year she was heavy...zip up your pants bwana! Now sell for me a kilo of goat's meat. I know you want to go home quickly so that your wife will not 'lose heat' (ndagaate muruki!)

I saw baba Njuthiitu stop everything that he was doing. It was as if the world had come to a standstill. He started looking up and down with annoyance. Words refused to come out of his mouth and he started stammering. Suddenly he seemed to regained his composure and requested the drunken man to enter where the meat was hanged and show him which part of the meat he wanted. Next to where the meat was hanged was a room where a drum full of red hot soup was boiling. In a split second, baba Njuthiitu flew punches on the face of the drunken man. He then took a metal bar and started hitting the man. As if that was not enough, he dragged him to where the boiling soup was and tried to lift him up in order to drop him over. Fortunately, by now, many people had gathered and they cooled his tempers off but not after telling the man that he will continue having children so long as it will not be with his (drunken man's) wife who looked like a female crocodile in a mating mood.

One of the questions that people were asking mama Njuthiito was how she was coping with a small man with such satanic temper. She could laugh it off. Listen to her:-

"My husband is the most misunderstood person. In fact people misunderstand him. You just need to know what he likes and what he does not like. Nobody is perfect and my husband is no exception. What I know is that if you want a man to hate you, just criticise his weakness. Its a fact baba Njuthiito is not a macho man, he is small by nature so I avoid as much as I can to talk about people's height. Another thing, all of us like to be appreciated. I appreciate everything he does however small. I avoid nagging him. Even if I disagree with him on an issue, I don't tell him there and then. I wait until the right time and then I put my point across. In this way, there is never tension in our house. To prove my point, don't you see us going to church with our children every Sunday?" she would say.

I remember mama Njuthiitu as a really true strong mother who had an X-factor. With all those children, surely, was it not too much? In the first place, why have all those children as if they were legal tender? In the first place, she was known to love children. In fact her ideal figure was to have a total of twenty four children! Yaawa! To her, every kid was a blessing so to have twenty four children was having twenty four different blessings combined. When her mum was giving birth to her, she accidentally died and she survived. This really affected her and she used to enjoy having many children to remember her mum.

Many of us in the village used to wonder how the home was so orderly considering that there were many children with different personalities. The couple never used to be harsh to children. One thing they hated was instilling fear in the children's mind. They wanted the children to grow with confidence and be their own powerhouse. Many people asked the mum whether she was worried that the small shamba could not be enough for each and every kid when they grew up. All what she knew was that the world is full of riches and nature is always there to provide to us if our minds are in tune with the universe. She believed in that omniscient power which has infinite intelligence that keeps the planets in their perfect orbit. In her house, they lacked nothing and to them, despite being a pretty large family, what people thought about them was immaterial.

I wonder how many mothers out there would be like Mama Njuthiitu. You have have five children and you are considering terminating the sixth pregnancy because six is a big number. Supposing baba Njuthiito was your hubby, you are tall and he is a 'dwarf', would you be okay to be seen walking hand in hand? Would you all of a sudden become the one hundred metre world champion anytime you see your friends meeting you so that you will not introduce him? Are you proud of your children and your husband? Do you take pride to be called mother of so and so who is the wife to so and so?

Mothers love is unconditional. She is the best gift and she cannot be substituted by anybody or anything. If you are not in good terms with your mum, please take that phone and talk to her. Even if she is the worst, at least she gave you life. She had the option of aborting you but she let you remain. If you are a mother, be proud of your family. You are the rock of the family. Be strong like mama Njuthiito. Whenever you hear comments that are detrimental to your family's social standing, let the comment flow from this ear and come out of the other ear. Your family comes first and you should guard your home jealously. You can tame that husband who to other people is an animal. You have what it takes but it takes commitment. Remember your mother-in-law is also your mother. If you two don't see each other to eye, avoid her but don't hate her. Understand her and invite her to your house. Do you know what you do when she comes? Talk about weather and politics plus kamweretho and then wewe eenda jikoni, piika ugaali kuuuubwa...msosi pamoja so that both of you can be blessed. If she asks for more ugaali, do you know what to do? Give her more!
 

Whispers from London (My God! What went wrong?)

Owing to the bad weather conditions in Europe, our plane to Africa was delayed by three hours. I could not wait to escape the harsh winter in London. In Africa the weather was warm and welcoming. As I looked around the waiting lounge, I saw many personalities who were waiting to board the same plane as I. One personality who was to fly with us was someone I just used to see in print and electronic media. Never could I imagine that we could share the same service for the remainder of the night. Should something ugly happen when the plane was in the sky, we would all perish irrespective of our social status.

Suddenly we were all seated and the plane took off. When the plane levelled, I remembered that I was now visiting Africa as a visitor. I recalled the political, economic and social climate. I had heard that matters had improved with the change of governments. On my friends, I remembered them in retrospect. I reasoned that on arrival, after staying in my hotel room for a day or two, I would then make sure that I had to go and see my relatives where my mother came from.

The third day, I woke up very early and headed to the countryside. The journey was a treacherous two hundred kilometres. I realised that even though there was a bit of developments here and there, people did not care how they drove their cars. After about a hundred miles, I was stopped by mean-looking traffic policemen. They asked me to produce my driving licence and I produced my UK one.

"Aahh bwana, na hii ni ya wapi, aaahh...ni ya UK. Now man, you have come all the way from the UK na you cannot buy wazee a crate of beer?" he asked.

They all assembled around me. I decided to give them one thousand shillings not as a bribe but as my hungry brothers. Who said that police force has transformed? Who says that bribery does not exist? After an hour or so, I reached my destination.

I was the happiest. I was particularly happy to see the people. I passed the local shopping centre where my mum used to send me those days. The hills, the valleys, the rivers all gave hope that all is not lost. Unfortunately, I realised that poverty was written all over the faces of the village folks. Some had grown very old and tired. In the city, those who were rich had become very rich while the poor ones became poorer. All in all, most of them could manage a smile although their life was struggle. It was my first day and very many people wanted to have one to one with me with this and that problem. Everybody wanted me to find my way and help them to get to my country of residence. Little did they know that people in the west struggle even more than them in the village.

One particular person I wanted to see was a close friend of mine who had been with me through my schooling from standard one. Unfortunately, he did not go very far with education although he was a very bright boy. His father had married a second wife and he decided to neglect the first wife and the children. As it happens always when a third person comes in the relationship, there was a lot of hatred between the two families. My friend decided to leave his father's home and lent a room in one of the houses in the local shopping centre. To earn a little income, he converted a small space in the room and made it a small shop. He did this with my help some years back.
 
Some seven years ago, my friend got married to a beautiful girl from our neighbouring village. Unfortunately, for five years they had not been blessed with a kid. Through prayer and fasting, on the fifth year a miracle happened. The wife conceived and they had a beautiful wonderful baby girl. I was told that the baby girl was so beautiful that a mysterious woman from the main town had tried to snatch her. She befriended her by buying her sweets and entered a matatu with her. On reaching town, a neighbour noticed her and even the baby herself called him by name. It was discovered that that the lady had tried to snatch her away. She was beaten to death. During her dying moments, she said that she had been asked by 'some people' to look for the most beautiful baby girl for a certain 'ritual'. Before she could elaborate further, she closed her eyes and died, but not before she informed her killers that she will revenge someday even from the grave. The story was even covered by 'DAILY NATION'.

I was anxious to see my friend, the wife and their little Angel. In my car, I had carried some presents from London for my relatives and friends. Among the presents for the baby was a small jacket, some dresses and shoes. I passed by his shop and I was informed that him and the family had gone to buy more stock.

I went home. Visitors had come from all corners to see me. They all wanted to know how life is in the land of 'Wazungus'. I bought them crates and crates of beer. The problem with village folks is that when you have come from abroad, they respect you so much until they fear you, even wazees who are old enough to be called your father. When they take beer, all that respect is now thrown out of the window and you are now one. One of the most strange question was whether I had ever considered going to 'Kasarani' with a 'Mzungu' and whether their 'goods and services' look or taste any different from those born, brought up and circumcised in Africa! I politely ignored the question but instead informed them that beer was cheap but Tusker is expensive once it reaches the other side of the ocean.

Back to my friend. I called him from my mobile. He was very happy to hear my voice now that we could see each other face to face. In the morning, I prepared to go and see him. I also wanted to do massive shopping from his shop so as to promote his business. His business was relatively doing well by village standards and that's where my happiness was.

I parked my car outside his shop. Wonderful memories came back on looking around. Some fifty metres or so was a cattle dip. Every Friday morning as we went to school, all the villagers brought their cattle to the cattle dip so that they could not be attacked by ticks. I used to know that it was Friday morning when I could see a mass exodus of people with their cattle going to and from the cattle dip. Another thing, in the village you were not a man if you did not have a say in running of the cattle dip! It was not a wonder to hear a politician inform the public that the cattle dip was the best South of Sahara and north of Limpopo. The truth of the matter was that it was poorly maintained and issues pertaining to health and safety had been widely ignored. African style!

My friend's shop was open but there was nobody. I asked some neighbours who told me that my friend had gone away a bit but when I arrive they should inform me that I should wait for him. I then asked where the wife was and someone pointed at another woman outside. I could see her moving up and about, looking hear and there, making quick hurried footsteps, then stopping, sometimes crying, at times stopping, running around again, looking around, squatting and looking the bushes around! What was the matter? I had never met her and I was surprised this queer behaviour.
 
I stepped outside. More people had now gathered. After some few minutes, the people now doubled and soon there was a multitude. I asked them what was wrong and they told me that the two year old daughter to my friend had disappeared for the last thirty minutes and had not been seen since. My God! Not again! Everybody seemed concerned and worried. By this time, the mother was crying loudly. She could try to walk and then after some few minutes, she could fall down. I approached her and tried to calm her down. I consoled her by telling her that could be a relative is with her. Her biggest worry was that her baby could have been abducted again. Could the ghosts of the mysterious woman have come back? No! There had been people around and they could have seen that? Wait a minute! There had been some three village 'chokora's' who had been seen hovering around the shop in the morning and the mum told them off after giving them some few slaps. Could they have abducted her? Owing to the tension around their home because of the two families, any possibility that a relative decided to be malicious and...? Those were the questions villagers were asking themselves.

Somebody decided to check whether she could have fallen in the cattle dip. On looking down inside the murky water, there was something floating. Could it be the baby girl we have been searching...YES! Jesus Christ! Somebody jumped into the water and got hold of the baby. We pressed her tiny tummy and water came out... but of course we knew that she was dead! I was the only person with the car and I decided to take the baby to hospital. By this time the mother was uncontrollable, falling down, yelling, praying and praying and praying. I have never seen such solidarity among people. Everybody was crying and crying, some going on their knees to pray.

Quickly I put the baby in the car, opened the windows and I drove at supersonic speed to the hospital. All this time the mother was crying, praying and throwing fists in the air. One prayer which will forever remain with me is what she said;
"My baby, I love you, you are my only one. I got you after everybody had written me off as barren. God, my God, do not let my baby go to the soil but let her be by my side. God, I know you are there somewhere, please let my baby live. God, God, God, I beg you..." she prayed. Suddenly, I saw a miracle, within a few minutes, she opened her eyes abit...So she was still ALIVE! I was very happy considering that her presents were still at the boot of my car.

It was a ten minutes drive. Quickly, we entered through emergency door to Accident and Emergency section. She was placed on a table. The doctors examined her. We were all anxiously waiting for the good news. But the worst was yet to come. The baby girl, our Angel had lost the battle for her life! She was pronounced DEAD. The whole life of the little girl came crumbling down. Soon afterwards, my friend arrived. He looked troubled. He asked me how the daughter was but I decided to let the doctor break the bad news. On being hit by the reality, my friend cried and cried. I offered the little counselling that I could on bereavement. I even provided him with some money for the mortury fees. Of course it was no consolation to the loss of the baby.

God, I cannot dare ask you why the little girl died. You have all the answers. You are the creator of Heaven and earth and you are the Alpha and Omega. You created her in your own image and likeness and you came back for her.

The question is, why do people die young? I understand that whatever happens to us is a reflection of our deeds. I am told that if someone neglects his/her children, there are all the chances of dying before one's time. Is there somebody there who has neglected his/her children? Do you have children who are suffering somewhere and you cannot help? Your day is coming.
 
I have come to appreciate life. Never take anybody for granted. Give your children your time. Have fun, you never know the hour or the time. Do you tell them that you love them or anytime you enter the house you ask for your Ketchup because it goes well with your fish and chips? Do you bless them? Do you pray for them by asking God to engineer their lives or you just mock them? Do you compare them with your friends and always putting them down? Not just children! You are there as a husband and you don't regard your wife as anything. You have a secret relationship somewhere and your new find can eat the 'cake' while facing the sky while at the same time looking at the centre of the earth. That is the start of your downfall. Even you woman, you are married and you are not satisfied with your husband alone. To you, he is always broke 'taa Nguui', he also eats like a dog, walks like a dog, talks 'taa nguui' etc... Its about time we cherish the time we have with one another. Life is not a rehearsal, we all came to this world one day, someday we will leave it. Be good to one another.

Whispers in London (A wise man changes his mind, a fool never!)

There is a lot of common factors that my late grandfather and the late Senior Chief Njiiri wa Karanja had in common. My grandfather had a whole bunch of thirty seven breathing wives while Chief Njiiri had forty two! I don't know much about Chief Njiiri. The only thing I know about him is that he was a very wealthy man in the right sense of the word. I am also told that it was prophesied by one prophet that Chief Njiiri would be rich and famous and he would rub shoulders with high and mighty. And it came to pass. Period.

Let me talk about my grandfather. He owned thirty seven wives, huge tracts of land, many children and grandchildren. He also owned tens of thousands of cattle, goats, sheep, hens, pigs and everything that you can associate with wealth. One would ask, with all those women, does it mean that he was a lover man, Casanova or what? Did women just like him or did he just have a sweet tongue? My answer is that I aint got a clue. All what I know is that his court poets would inform him that with his wealth heneeded to have the daughter of so and so by his bedside to massage his royal back. Royal back or to quench his insatiable sexual lust? Ask me another!

Each of the wives owned a grass thatched hut. The huts were all built in the homestead and they formed a semi-circle with his in the middle. From his hut he could see all his women coming in and out of the house doing this and that all in the name of pledging total and direct unquestionable loyalty to him. They were all supposed to cook him food, bring it to him and place it somewhere at the corner of his house. With each wife bringing her food, he would choose the most yummy and consume as if the world was ending the day after. He would then call us the children and share the rest. He naturally liked children. When there was moonlight, he could be seen sharing stories with his children and grandchildren.
I personally knew that what my granddad liked most was to be treated like he was the best man created after Adam the father of Cain the devil or kind Abel. There is nothing he liked than to be told that a white catholic priest had said hallo or a certain teacher was talking about him as an example for examples of the greatest men who ever lived. Now this is where I came in. To massage his ego, I created stories of how teachers, thin and fat, men and women regarded him with a lot of esteem. To him, everything, from human being, animals in the sea or dry land all came under him. The only person he had respect for was Senior Chief Njiiri wa Karanja because to him, he was friends with the British rulers. All what I am saying is that I was a darling to my grandfather because of telling him nice things that was good music to his ears. Remember that 99% of what I was telling him was pure fiction to make him happy!

My grandpa was never short of advice. Some of his advice was weird and Satanic. Listen to him after drinking one too manybeers: "My son, never trust anybody in this world...especially women. Hey, hey...the only good woman...eeh...(belch)...you can trust is only your mother not your wife. You see all these women you see walking like Saints, they can turn to be devils in a second, they can give you poison and then start crying like babies. Pretenders are worse than murderers!".

"Granddad, thanks for complementing my mum...but are you trying to suggest that all your thirty seven women are devils and can offer you poison?" I asked shaking like a reef by the riverside.

"Why do you think I make sure that I share my food with you children when they bring it to me. They won't poison you children and so I am safe by extension!" I asked.

I pictured how all the thirty seven wives brought their food and porridge to him. I imagined how he would send me to call one of the wives to come and make him fire. In the cause of making fire, the 'lucky?' wife would be commanded to make his bed. This was a metaphorical meaning to suggest that the old man felt like 'fusing' his body with a member of the opposite sex who happened to be one of the wives. Come the following morning, the wife would be seen coming out of the hut humming traditional songs if not rap by Jua Cali, R. Kelly or Jay Z. On whether she was making fire for the old man the whole night, I can categorically say that I would not want to know. On whether other wives were jealous on seeing the 'fire preparer', I would say 'yes!' Why not?! One could hear them murmuring as they removed pots from the granary; "Even us we have what it takes to keep the fire burning for the chief!"

One of the advice I remember very well was one granddad told me about I changing with times. I am not made of politicianmaterial and I don't think I will ever be. He advised me that when the need arises, I had to stoop low otherwise life can turn to be a nightmare. Just have a look;

"My son, you have got long life to live. Even if you find yourself falling asleep, make sure that there is a certain percentage of your mind that is not awake. The world is cruel. This is a world where it is every man for himself and God for us all. On the way, you will find people whose intention is to kill you, kill you for sport. Open your eyes and see far. Put your ears on the ground and grab any opportunity otherwise what your children will inherit from you is poverty. Remember poverty is a curse. When you are poor, you and your children will be servants for the rich. How would you like it that you and your wife are employed by one rich man...you are the shamba boy and your wife is the cook and your daughter is the maid?" he asked with a sense of seriousness.

I have never heard my grandfather speak to me in a such wisdom. I knew him as lion in the homestead. He was feared by those he ruled especially us his children. His wives used to tremble anytime he used to call them for a meeting. To many people, he was a bully, dictator and very uncompromising. One time he had called all his wives in a meeting. My own grandmother disagreed with him on a certain issue. It was like she had hurt a lioness. My granddad shot up from his seat, breathed heavily and in a split second threw his 'bakora' to my grandma. Luckily enough, it missed her by a whisker! From then on, he bust into obscenities.

"You women are (unprintable!), you are all stupid! Do you want me to cut you this thing (he gestured pointing at his massive manhood which from a distance looked like a small sack of posho) so that you can know that I am serious? Like you...you...you...Gaterina... you...(unprintable denoting women's private and confidential part of the anatomy), never bring me your porridge again! Get lost...you wet d**k!" he said.
Days and months passed. On one of the days that he was in a happy mood, I asked him why he always insulted his women like that. I reasoned that he risked being thrown into a lake of fire when his body will never need 'fire'. Listen to him:

"Young boy, if you find yourself apologising all the time, there is a problem. If you are always saying, 'yes! yes!' you are risking your life. People will always take advantage of you. At times, you have got to change your mind and act stupid when faced with stupid people. Only remember that most people behave as if they have smeared themselves with their sh*t, so you have to take them on board with their sh*t! Make your life comfortable and let nobody steal your joy," he said.

"Granddad, you have not answered my question, why do you behave so strange when dealing with your women?" I asked. "In this home, with all these women and children, do you expect me to act like a hen that has been rained on? I have to roar like a lion but in the privacy of my bedroom, I pray for peace and prosperity for you all" he concluded.

With time, I have come to appreciate that even the worst people have got their good side. There is that human element that has everybody. Do you look at the positive side of that person you don't like seeing eye to eye? Its about time you changed your attitude. A wise man changes his mind, a fool never!

Whispers from London (To a hungry man, everything is food)

As I write this article, I am remembering a colleague of mine who once told me that when people talked of love, he did not understand it because he had never fallen in love although he was married. My big question was how on earth he got married, did a wedding ceremony and went on to have children without loving somebody. The guy was clocking thirty years yet to him love to him was a strange word. Listen to him: 

"Man Man, do you know that I personally don't know what love is and come April this year I will be thirty years?" he said.
"You are already married, how the hell then did you and your wife come together and became man and wife? Not even that, you have two children together and I am sure you did not collect them by the roadside. You two must have come together at a certain hour, breathed heavily and the result was creating human beings not white ants!" I said.
The guy looked at me as if I had all the answers in this world.

"Listen here, the woman I call my wife was brought to me after my parents agreed with her parents that she could be my wife. I woke up one Saturday morning and from the gate entered three people, my wife and her parents. They told me that they were my visitors but different kind of visitors. After sometime my parents entered. I came to learn later that they wanted me and their daughter to be friends, get married and bear children and fill the world" he narrated.

"So it must have been love at first sight...manna from Heaven...they say that 'they found Waachu (whoever he was!)in the garden. Mmmmmm...lucky you," I said not knowing whether he could hear my sarcasm.
After telling me all that, he paused for a minute and cleared his throat before continuing with the story.

"I cannot say it was love. This is somebody I had never seen. For one the girl in question had a very black tongue, a thing we used to associate with village witches. I also did not like the way she was looking at me with her mouth wide open anytime we had eye contact", he explained. "To cut the long story short, my wife was not my choice. My parents saw that my age was advancing and all my age-mates had long married while I did not even have a girlfriend, real or imagined" he said.
"You mean you have never had a girlfriend before. Are you sure that you have never been together with a girl and one thing leading to another and ... say you two losing your mind by speaking in tongues...you must be from another planet!" I exclaimed.
"By and by, as the time went on, we came to understand one another and we kind of tolerated each other," she said.
"What do you mean by 'tolerating each other?'" I asked curiously.  "For one, I hated the way she was cooking, especially rice. When cooked, the whole meal tasted like a goat had urinated on it!"
 

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. All what I knew was that the guy was talking on behalf of very many people. One thing is certain, that the guy had had a very strict upbringing where he was not supposed to have a relationship with any girl. In fact, in their family, you were supposed to think, dream and imagine books, books, books and more books because knowledge is power. It is in this quest for knowledge and more knowledge that the children failed to socialise with others and became social misfits. The parents failed to draw a line between how far to lay emphasis on education and social life. One cannot ignore the other. By failing to grasp the social aspects in life, the children were impoverished in what the social needs were. They grew with poverty of the mind not knowing what is good or right in life.
 

There is grave danger when parents are very strict with their children. There is even greater danger when we don't allow our children to make their own choices and exercise some democracy. When children are brought up in a family which is like a military camp, there are many chances that they might not go very far in life. There is nothing wrong by them saying 'No' to you if they have a genuine reason.

I have a lot of respect for former president Mandela. When he finished university, he was under pressure to get married to somebody he did not love. Him and his cousin had to run away from home and find work in Johannesburg. The only job they could find was that of gold mining but he had a second thought. He imagined young men working very many miles hidden under the earth, never seeing the sun and not knowing what is going on in the world. With time he teamed up with the late Albert Luthuli and together they were doing well in their law firm. We all know who Mandela is, what he has done and so long as the world is there, he will remain a remarkable man eternally. Supposing he went on and got married against his wish? Worse still, what of if he was so hungry for money and he started mining gold at that time? You have a choice to prepare your children for greatness or live in life of mediocrity. There are times when one has to say 'No' even when pointed with with bayonets.

Don't believe the hype that there is anybody who came to settle in this country because his/her country of origin was flowing with milk and honey. I am sure that there are some people who came here, found them in relationships not by choice but being victims of circumstances. A friend of mine told me how she came to this country and she knew of only one guy who had come to 'study' law (on coffee, tea and pyrethrum?). She was hosted by the guy by the virtue of him having come from the same village. He was in a tiny bedsitter although rumours in the village was that his big mansion was just next to No. 10 Downing street where the prime minister lives. The village folks were informed that him and the PM were good golfing buddies. Well, the reality of the matter was that the guy was working many hours with a Security company to make ends meet. On whether he owned those academic degrees connected with pyrethrum, tea or wheat, that was another million dollar question! The lady in question had to share the only room and bed with the guy from her village. He was the only person she knew to orient her with the west! Being made of fresh and blood, the guy being the only man he knew, sharing the only bed, one does not need special knowledge to know that they used to have intimate moments at that ungodly hour. I am not in any way suggesting that the lady loved the guy but he was available.

With time the lady made friends and had a job of her own. She came to realise that there were better men in the west than the guy from his village. Unfortunately, in the west, the population of women is less than that of men. There are very many single ladies out there (which is sometimes better by far than getting married!) and so the lady did not want to be in the statistics of single ladies. Time rolled on and they even had kids together, now living as husband and wife.

How many times have you done some things only to regret later when circumstances forced you to do it? How many times have you done jobs that do not march with your qualifications but you have to do them just to have food on the table? Have you ever been forced by circumstances to turn a blind eye or have a deaf ear to some things done by your wife or husband because prevailing laws and financial quagmire dictates you so? Have you ever in your life been forced by circumstances to keep your mouth shut even when your conscience tells you otherwise? If the answer is YES, then this is a case of of you being hungry and taking anything (even when it is sh*t) that comes by. Know what, to a hungry man, everything is food.

A Whisper from London (Valentine day as it is, Valentine day as it should be)

My guess is that many people don't know the meaning of Valentine day. To them valentine day is the day to tell your spouse or girlfriend nice things. By nice things, I am talking of calling each other nice London cursed names like sweetheart, boo, babe, Daddy wiitu, Wang'ania etc, etc. Another way of celebrating Valentine is giving your loved one (sorry, used to be) some nice gifts not from Sainsbury's, Lidl or Tescos but from Ann Summers. I know nothing about what is sold in Ann summers but I know is that you can get partially everything to demonstrate the anger of your your love to a member of an opposite sex.

Its good to know the origins of Valentine day. It started long time ago, long before the coming of fish and chips. The legend has it that one Roman emperor by the name Claudius II prohibited marriage. In his mediocre mind, he thought that when young people stayed unmarried in the army, they would make better soldiers because they would give military services full concentration. That did not go very well with a priest by the name Valentine. He felt very sorry for those people who were marriage material but they could not. He did one wise thing. Instead of just telling them to kneel down and pray for them, increase their tithe and offering, telling them to tell their neighbour this and that (even when its irrelevant!!), he went on to perform marriage ceremonies secretly and pronounced them as 'a man and wife' even at the expected time of bills and bill reminders and notice of intended legal actions. If you think that the emperor took that crime lying down, you are mistaken my 'broda woh'. He went ahead and put Priest, Bishop, Bishop-elect, Arch-Bishop Valentine into jail. The jailer happened to be a man whose daughter was blind. Priest Valentine, while in jail wrote her a note with the following wordings; "FROM YOUR VALENTINE".

Forget at the moment who Valentine was, what he did with what. Personally I don't care who he was. My imagination was that he was just another man whose wife owned a roadside kiosk by the name; 'KARIBUNI KWA MAMA WEKA UJI HOT'. In other words he was an ordinary common man with common feelings. One of the things I am talking about was that he liked to fall in love with somebody. Even animals fall in love with one another. How we show our love to the other person varies from one individual to the other.

I totally agree that Valentine day should be the day when people in love show one another by words and deeds that truly they are in love. My fear is that with the way the world's economy is going, it might not be possible to show your loved one that you are in love. I need special knowledge to know how you have come from a long day, waking night, sleep in and out, marathon and all that and still you have the stamina to show your loved one there is still some love left in your heart. Its February 14th and you have just arrived from work. The phone rings and the manager tells you that so and so has cancelled his/her shift and that they need cover. You are divided between staying at home and kissing and kissing your loved one or making an extra coin. When you look at the bills that needs payment, being not too clever and not too stupid, you decided to work extra hours. Well, kissing and holding hands with loved one on this particular day will not pay bills or give you extra vitamins.

If you don't know, we are experiencing recession. Recession and credit crunch are strange bed fellows with romance. Ever heard of this song, 'No romance without finance'? I used to hate that song when it came out. I did not have that finance the singer was talking about but now I know she was right. In case your girlfriend or your wife makes more money than you or has a better job than you and you are a man, God be with you. Your romance is about to hit the rocks. Forget about those romantic poems and text messages you send your better half. They will lose meaning the moment you are retrenched and you cannot provide for your family. Like Man Man or hate him but the truth of the matter is that good Valentine day has got a good correlation with a fat wallet.

I think God created us to enjoy romantic moments with one another whether its Valentine day or not. What went wrong after you two people came together and decided to live as man and wife? What happened on the way to Heaven? I don't refute the fact that some of us are not love able. In your love life can you remember a boyfriend or a girlfriend who used to behave like he/she was delivered to you by registered mail by Satan Lucifer from hell? How else do you explain somebody who will never show you any appreciation? Somebody who always think of me, myself and I always? Think of those people who will never appreciate your jokes, its only their jokes which are childish and irritating? There are those in our midst who think that the world starts with them and ends with them. Are these the kind of people to take to a good hotel and talk romance? Are they the people who you would take seriously on a Valentine day?

I used to work with a man and wife in the same company back in Africa. They looked a good loving couple to the general public. They had a good car and both used to come to the office holding hands. Part of my work involved having to deal with confidential matters pertaining to employees. One day the wife came to my office. She looked kind of upset with something. She closed the door behind and sat directly opposite to me. I was used to seeing an extremely happy woman so I was very surprised. I asked her what the matter was and tears started flowing from her eyes. She confidentially informed me that the husband was very controlling. She was under strict instructions from her husband to always pretend that their marriage was made in Heaven. It was punishable by 'death' for her to imagine that she could put her salary elsewhere apart from their joint account. Once the salary settled in the joint account, the wife had no say in how the money (read her money) was to be used. At that particular moment, the mum to the wife was seriously sick and the husband had refused her to withdraw her own money from the account to take her to hospital. I advised her that her husband was a bully and a control freak and she was the one who had let him do it. On my advice, she opened herself a bank account where she could control her money as she wanted. Interestingly, the day was February 14th. To the husband, was the wife a Valentine or a slave? To the wife, was the husband a Valentine or a bully? Could you by any chance be romancing with a bully or slave as your special 'Valentine?' If by any chance you treat your girlfriend or wife like your slave, shame on you and your soul rot in the hottest spot in hell!

Welcome to the west and welcome to the world of culture shock. By culture shock, I am talking of a place where women come before men in the family unit hierarchy. Think of that husband who was shown the door by the wife the other day. Imagine that the wife has already gotten herself a boyfriend and they are now living in the house which was purchased through mortgage by the husband who is now practically homeless. Do you expect the husband to come back home,knock the door, smile at the ex-wife and the new boyfriend with a bunch of flowers on a good Valentine's day? If you are a wife or girlfriend with a secret relationship somewhere, you lack integrity and you are worse than a Jacobin!

Mine is to wish you a happy life. Valentine day came and left. The best thing is to find happiness within yourself. Treat each other with compassion. Do unto others as you would want others do unto you. Think kindly of others. May Valentine spirit reign as of now and forever.

A whisper from London (Merry Christmas everyone)

London, 22nd December, 2008

As I write this article, I know very well that there are people out there who will not be able to enjoy Christmas like everybody else. With the coming of the credit crunch and recession in the economy, I know that life is not easy. Know what, God created with a purpose, he knows your destiny, he loves you and whether there is credit crunch or recession, you will emerge victorious. How my heart pains when I remember those children left without parents because of aids menace. How I hate to see a husband and wife go separate ways and children left to suffer. God in Heaven, creator of Heaven and earth, I know you are there somewhere and you know your people's cry. Christ came to die for our sins, was crucified and died on the cross, yet he forgave his tormentors. Think of that person you hate to death...your husband, wife, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, mother-in-law, work colleague or anybody that you hate to see. Its Christmas time, is there any chance that this time round you can find a place in your heart and forgive. Any love left in your heart?

One of my friends will cellebrate this Christmas a very sad man. The following is the story. Its a very true story by the way:-

I used to live in some other place before I moved to my current address. It was that day when weather was so terrible that snow was everywhere and the roads were impassable. Just some few meters from the gate to our place of work some two cars were involved in an accident. The road was slipperly and terrible. As I approached the cars, my car skidded and I hit one of the cars from behind. Some people were joking that my car was suffering from sexual lust and it wanted to have the so called 'threesome'. I understand that threesome is a situation where three satanic people are gathered in a satanic manner to eat 'nyama choma' in satanic way. The owner of the car I hit did not have proper insurance details and so I decided to take matters my own way.
 
I was introduced to a certain car mechanic. Co-incidentally, he used to live some few blocks away from my house but I had never seen him before. I called his mobile phone number and he agreed to repair my car. I expected him to be a young man considering that the work he was doing was too hard and he was exposed to the severe cold winter every hour. I was surprised to find that he was a man from Carribean and he was clocking around seventy years! He was so happy to see me and it was as if we had known each other for ages.

"Yeah Man, respect man! You must be the guy I talked to some minutes ago?"he asked.

"Yah...you are mister Abraham...the mechanic. You repair cars?" I asked as I convinced myself that the old guy must have been high on hard drugs or some kind of madness.

"Oh yaaah, I have been doing this since I was thirteen in Jomeka (read Jamaica). Ever heard of Jomeka, land of Bob Marley and the Wailers?" he continued.

I ignored the question and I asked myself whether the man was capable of repairing the car in the best manner. All in all, I convinced myself that I would just give him the benefit of doubt just in case... I still wanted to know more of him.

"So Abraham, you look younger than your age, how comes you decided to do this work of all the other jobs?" I asked.

"This is the best job coz its in my blood. I get a lot of support from my beautiful, wonderful wife. She is the rock of my family. Another thing...she is very beautiful!" he said as he took my car keys. For a man of his age to talk of the beauty of his wife, rock of the family and all that made me think that his wife must be an Angel from Heaven.
 

As we talked, I heard a funny noise coming from his house. It was like someone was being strangled. I looked up at the window and I saw someone crying while at the same time waving her hand at us. On seeing that, Abraham acknowledged by waiving back and smiling at her.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I will not be long..." he told her. He turned at me and explained something to the effect that he was used to such kind of things.

"Young man, would you mind to meet my wife...come along. She is not violent but she will only bite you abit" he said.

"Bite me abit...not ready for that Mr. Abraham," I said.

"Jezz joking man, stop cowardice!" he assured.

I waited on the lounge as Abraham made quick-hurried footsteps to the upper rooms. I imagined a wild woman hurriedly coming at making a meal out of my only two hands. Something was telling me to leave immediately but I remembered that my car keys were with my host. After about ten tense minutes, I heard Abraham coming down. As he made each step down the staircase, he made a sound, like he was dragging something. The wife was still making that funny strangling noise. I highly regretted associating myself with Abraham and his wife.
 

To my horror, the wife was in a wheel-chair. She relaxed as the wheel-chair levelled on the ground floor.

"Man Man, meet my mrs, she is the Angel I was telling you about, nice little girl, she is the rock of my family!" he said.

"I like that, I wish all men can emulate you. How long have you been together?" I asked curiously.

"Only fifty two! I wish I can be younger again so that I can have more years to spend with her!" he said with an unimagibable confidence.

I looked at her again and I realised that she was paralysed. He voice was inaudible and could not make proper eye contact.

"Mr. Abraham, do you mind me saying that your wife is unwell...to some extent?" I asked cautiously.

"Yeah man, she has all sorts of problems. For one she is diabetic, has hypertension, kidney failure and above all she is blind" he said as he went to the kitchen to get her some milk.

"I never knew that...how long has this been going on?"

"For the last fifteen years she has been like that. She cannot do anything by herself. I have to feed her, bathe her, clothe her and even help her with her social basic hygiene requirements. I have never complained or wished she was not my wife. I love her to bits and if I would be young again, I would still marry her, disabled or not disabled! True love knows no bounds. I love her more than she can imagine!" he said.

"Man Man, I find this to be very normal and I have never asked God why he gave me such a wife. When she was abled, she used to treat me with a lot of respect. She was very proud of me and all her friends knew me as the most loving person. I know I am not good looking. In fact when I was born, my mum used to tell me that I was so ugly that she used to tell people that I was the maid servant's son...that I did not look like her child. Look at my baby here, she never let her beauty enter into her head. Her friends used to tell her that I looked like a rabbit. We used to make a joke out of it. If she would talk today, she would call me her 'dear rabbit!' She has never seen another man behind my back and I repect her for that. Tell me, how many women of her status would stand and be counted that they have never secretly had a man who they loved with passion?"
 

"Okay Abraham, good to hear that. What is it that you like about your wife today considering her present condition?" I asked.
"I like waking up at exactly 3.00 a.m. to massage her back and give medication. I am her carer proper!" he answered.
 

I looked at the couple and I realised that with love, hope and trust we can all achieve anything in this world. From that time we have never met again. I was going through my phone book yesterday and I came across Abraham's number. I called him and from the tone of his voice, he was not very happy.

"Abraham, you sound upset, are you okay?" I asked him.

"Its a long story...can you come over to my place?" he asked.

I was eager to know what the problem was. I found him reading a paper in his house.

"Man Man, I am sorry to tell you that I lost my mrs eight months ago. Life to me has never been easy. I am still moaning her death. I wake up at 3.00 a.m. every night like I used to. I always hear her voice in the dark. Unfortunately, she went on a journey she will never return. I will never massage her back again. I guess my Chrismas day will be very lonely. As I wake up in the morning, I look at the sky and tears fall on my eyes. I try to whisper to her knowing full well that she cannot hear or talk to me. You don't know what you have until you lose it".

I was speechless. I assured him that we are all on a journey in this world and when our time comes, we will all join her, that our paths will meet in Heaven.

I am imagining those couples who don't see each other to eye. I am talking to you, you who lives in this world like you have title deed. My focus is on you who belittles other people and see other people like doorstep marts. I am still remembering those couples who for some reasons do not see the need to talk to one another. There has been a lot of hatred between the two of you since God knows when. Imagine that day when police will call to inform you that your husband is dead somewhere. Think of that phone call which will inform you that your wife is no more. With the way things are going these days, we need to cultivate love for one another. You husband out there, its about time you zip up your pants. Aids has no cure. Its Christmas time, time for forgiveness. You woman, all men are the same. Even if your hubby owns a 'pencil' down there remember the Luo saying that, 'mpila ni mdogo lakini uwaanja unafulahia'. Are you those women who believe that they are in the west and where women rule? You can have as many relationships as you can, only remember that 'ukimwi unauwa'. We need you next Christmas. We need one another, don't we?

HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU.

Whispers from London (The devil in your life) Part three

London, 10th November, 2008

Papa Ajasco was a very angry man. In the car he was breathing heavilly while at the same time cursing under his breath. I was starting to regret why I was accompanying him to his house when he was in that kind mood. When in our swallowing joint, we overheard his wife conversing with another man and the subject matter was how they should cherish the lovely romantic moments they had had together. They were also planning to meet secretly somewhere in London or Glasgow away from those who knew them. To Papa Ajasco this was like a dream. He had never imagined his wife dreaming, leave alone thinking of having an affair behind his back. I had known the Ajascos to be one great loving couple. One could see them holding hands in the street. They could call each other names like sweetheart, sweetie, love, babe, darling and boo all meaning that they were madly in love. The big question was; who was this man and when did the relationship start? What went wrong?

We left the main road and took the junction to head to Ajasco's house. From outside we could see that all the rooms were lit and there was slight movement here and there through the curtain. I had to calm Papa Ajasco rest he did something dangerous to his family. The most forgiving man I know is Mr. Nelson Mandela who forgave the whites in South Africa even after imprisoning him for whole twenty seven years! On the contrally, he found it hard to forgive his wife Winnie for having a relationship with the then twenty nine year old lawyer. No sane man can rejoice to know that his wife can willingingly spread her legs to another man at an angle not exceeding 180 degrees (who cares?!) and scratch a man's back while at the same time crying blue murder and talking in strange languages which can only make sense to the devil! I asked him to stop the car and here was my advice.

"Ajasco, I know how you feel. My advice to you is that if you want to know who this devil of a man is to act normally. Do not do anything silly. Assume you never heard anything. Forgive and forget!" I said.
"Manman, you don't know how I feel now. I am now clocking sixty two years. By Mama Martin (his wife) engaging in a relationship, she is killing me softly. After the mother of my children went back to Jamhuri, I fell in love with my current wife with the hope that I will see my sunset years with her. She is only thirty years and she has got so many years to live. I took her with her son after her marriage with her husband hit the rocks. I treat her son like one of my own...this is what I get! Did you hear her call me a 'village pummpkin?'. Me, 'village pumpkin?' I have never insulted her and I help her. I always maintain that she is the rock of our family. She must be one great actor!"

"Papa Ajasco you have to understand that not even God cannot change the past. If your wife has had a relationship and her lover has been 'throwing stones in your garden' you can do nothing about it. Just accept it and move on. In your mind, though you are together, assume that there is no love and start regarding your wife as a flat-mate. There is somebody somewhere who loves you to death. After sometime, if you find that there is no love, go for plan 'B' secretly. When you are set, spill the beans and go separate ways with your wife. Life is too short, you have lived three quarters of your life, who said that you will live in sadness until your dying day? You are lucky there are no children involved."
"Manman, are you forgeting that my wife is pregnant...after...forget it now, thats not important!" he said.
"Oh,I was forgetting, lucky you...well...may the best man win!" I said.
"Meaning what?" he asked.

"That the higher you go the cooler it becomes and 'ufutaaji wa sigala unadhuru afya yako!" I joked to evade the subject.
"By the way, Ajasco, they say that it takes two to make a quarrel. Do you think that you could have contributed to your wife having a relationship?" I asked.

"Manman, thats a good question. The only issue between my wife and I is only her son. I want the son to be circumcised but his father is opposed to that. I demand that my wife should talk to the father because I don't want to live with a lad in the house! I want him to be very sweet to his girlfriend, just like me. Know what, do you know what I do when my wife ask me for more? I give her more!!" he said.
"You are right, now wonder she is engaged in a relationship with another man!"

As we talked, I looked at Papa Ajasco and tears fell from my face. This was a man who was a stone throw from the sunset years. Him and his first wife went separate ways many years ago. Together they had two children, a boy and a girl. The relationship could not work and the wife decided to go back to Jamhuri. It had been long since they communicated after the wife heard that Papa Ajasco had married again.

I figured out that the age difference was a major factor the relationship. Ajasco was twice the age of the wife and so their interests were not the same. Mama Martin was a modern lady in her early thirties and was a dot.com lady. Despite having been in the west for long, Papa Ajasco believed that the wife should 'submit' to the husband at any time, at any hour or any day of month whether there is moonlight or no moonlight! I have heard Mama Martin say that Papa Ajasco should learn more about women, about hormones, variation of moods and all that. Ajasco believes that hormonal changes do not provide 'vitamins' and so if he feels like eating his cake at the middle of the night, at any day of the month, it should be provided immediately at the right temperature.
 

Another thing. Papa Ajasco had been working in a warehouse which folded up after the prevailing credit crunch sunk in. He has never bothered to look for a job, even security one. His wife has been the provider for the last ten months. My believe is that a man should earn respect not by the size of his manhood but by the way he provides for his family. Even it means working in a mortuary, the man should always provide. In case he doesn't, the wife will see him just like any other man. It will only take five minutes for another sweet talking man to chat with his wife and then both will be talking of their relationship which is made in Heaven. God be with you my dear reader if you are jobless like Papa Ajasco. The devil will work overtime to see your marriage strained. Another man will definitely come along to comfort your wife. After sometime, the comforting words will turn to relationship. Before you know what is going on, the 'comforter' will be making arrangements on how he can take your wife and kids. Poverty is a curse! I have heard Papa Ajasco say that if you find that you are in bed with your spouse and he/she has no interest in bed matters, it is the time to know that something is very wrong somewhere. There is somebody between you and your spouse, no wonder you sleep in this corner of bed and your wife sleeps on the other end. Between the two of you there is an unknown hero and his name is none other than Lucifer da devil and he is coffee(?!)taster number one. You don't need special knowledge to know that people in love sleep closer to one another. Be wise, your relationship is headed to the rocks.
 

Papa Ajasco has this habit of talking about brocken relationships. One day I asked him how Mama Martin was and he jokingly told me that they had separated and each was living on his own. I came to realise very late that it was a joke. I believe that nature knows no jokes. Whatever you confess by your mouth will always come to reality. Never,ever pretend that you are separated because the subconcious mind will make it a reality. There are hyenas there out to ruin your life. They come in form of your friends, relatives, workmates and bosses. If your wife works with a highly intelligent boss, God be with you my 'broda woh'. It does not matter what corner of the world he comes from, even the colour of the skin. Worse still it doesn't matter whether he is circumcised or not! God have mercy on you. If she also makes more money than you, there is danger. Your relationship is at risk! If you and your wife do the same job, you also need to open your eyes wide, there is danger also. Respect might have gone out of the window especially if job type is not 'that' appealing. No wonder the last time she rose to the occasion (bedwise) was when president-elect Obama visited Kogelo village for the first time!

Soon Papa Ajasco and I alighted from the car and we headed to the house. We were ushered in by Mama martin. We greeted and she smiled broadly at us and we smiled back.
"Welcome Manman to our house. Its late at night, it is going to four in the morning. Where have you people been?" She asked.
"Mama Martin, we were just having one for the road. Papa Ajasco should meet with wazee like me so that we can chat 'kimameeni'" I said.

Papa Ajasco took the seat directly opposite to Mama Martin. He pretended to be drank and his speech was sluggish.
"Maaaama Martin, how are yooooou. You...yooou...knoooow, I love you...dar....daarling...Sweetheart...have I offended you...now...now...young girl....giiive me a kiiiiss...like this...mmmmmm...ah! mmmmmmmmaaah!" he said.

"Manman, you see how romantic my husband is. Everytime before he goes to sleep, he must give me a goodnight kiss. He might be aged...looking like a village...pum...person...yes, person...people can mistake him with a fool...(sorry!) but he is a comedian!" she said.
I looked at Mama Martin as I listened to her syntax of words. As she talked, she avoided eye contact with Papa Ajasco. She would occasionally put her hand on her mouth as she talked about Papa Ajasco.

"Thats very kind of you Mama Martin. I wish people can say exactly that to the husbands. I should be going now...its late..." I said not knowing whether I was saying the right thing.

Suddenly, Mama went to the kitchen and made some coffee. As she placed coffee on the table, she adjusted her blouse and her nipples were well visible from her white blouse. She smiled as she told me 'karibu'. Nice dimples formed on her round, beautiful face. As I took the first sip, I saw Martin come down the stairs. Papa Ajasco saw him and yelled at him to go back and sleep.
"I can't go back Ajasco, I had a bad dream. I was dreaming that our baby was in danger"

"What danger?" he asked.
"Of being sucked out in the toilet" Martin said as he wiped tears from his face.
"Sucked out in the toilet...danger...what are you trying to say...GO BACK TO SLEEP!"
"Ajasco...were seeing this programme in discovery channel with my dad here and we saw a bufaloe giving birth through its bum when mum went to the toilet to do number two. Is there a possibility that since she is pregnant, she 'pooed' the baby out?" he asked naively.
"Ask her, she is here. So your dad was here at night?" ajasco asked.

"Yes and he promised to buy me PS3. Dad is good...he has six pack while you are just having a tummy!" he said.
Papa Ajasco rolled his eyes, looked at me and Martin. There was total silence and one could cut tension by knife. Luckilly Ajasco's mobile phone beeped. It was a text message. After reading the text message, he rose up, paced around the house and all he could say was; "Oh..not again! Not again! Why me now?"

*********JOIN ME IN PART FOUR FOR MORE*******************

Whispers from London (The devil in your life) Part two

London, 10th October, 2008

I have always Known Papa Ajasco to be the most masculine person in my life. By being masculine, I am talking of a man who takes matters as they come. In my mind, I never considered him to be afraid of anything, real or imagined. Some few hours ago, he was laughing and telling me that in abroad, there was nobody's husband or wife. That your wife can call you all manner of London cursed names like sweetheart, boo and babe and still be seeing another man behind your back. By seeing another man, both her and the man do not go to discuss whether goat soup goes down well better than pepe or muteeta soup. After meeting and hugging, talking about weather and all manner of sweet nothings, they will jump into bed and call each other real boo or babe or sweetheart in style. The same to a husband. He will call his wife babe or whatever have you, go for a night shift, call it long day or waking night but in actual sense he is waking up another female in a bid to break a certain vital commandment. Tell your neighbour...shetani ashidwe...ashidwe pepo chafu...riiiiswa!

The night was quiet. Papa Ajasco was on the driver's seat. He was definately in a very angry and dissapointed mood. He was driving at a very high and dangerous speed. He was neither obeying the traffic signs nor speed limits. Ask anybody who have had his points taken from his licence and he will tell you that this is as agonising as giving birth to quadrupplets. I could see from the corner of my eyes that Ajasco was sweating and panting. Occasionally, he could take a deep breath. His nose was running somehow. I did not want to add more tension by talking to him. What of him mistaking me with the guy who was calling his young beautiful wife love, sweetie and all that.
 

After passing one traffic island, Papa Ajasco had this to say:-

"Man Man, never trust any woman. If Mama Martin could think of any other man other than me...then I don't know who this guy could be...men! men! meeeen...aaaarghh!" he said.

Mister Ajasco has this notion that he is best in everything. He believes that he is even wiser than king Solomon. He is those people who have a tendancy of thinking that they have special talents rare to mankind. During our drinking spree, he is fond of talking in a very high voice to make everbody quiet and listen to him. Listen to him:-
 

"You people...all of you...who has the most beautiful wife here? And who has the youngest? Ask yourself this question, what is the secret of an over sixty year old man marrying a girl in her twenties? You people don't know romance...If there are degrees in romance, I would be awarded one. You have to first talk to a girl in style...no hurry...tell her nice things. Compliment her, tell her that her face reminds you of a ripe orange in a virgin forest in virgin island...no hurry...caress her carefully...no hurry...kiss her on the forehead...on the cheeks...neck...down...down and when you look at her eyes and you find that she is 'dead' then thats the alarm to show you that you can now demonstrate the anger of your love. But look at you people...its get on to your marks, set and gooooooooooo...you just behave like he-goats! Which lady would like to romance with a he-goat?"

We kept on driving. Papa Ajasco was swearing by his grandmother that he was going to commit murder that night to either him or his wife. He could occasionally bang the dash-board with so much force that the whole car would tremble. I sensed danger. In the first place, why did he ask me to accompany him. To be a partner in crime? To help him hide his wife's body after he had killed her? I like peace of mind and I don't advocate any form of violence. We had heard the whole conversation and for sure Mama Martin was conversing with another male and they were talking about romance, past, present and of future. From the conversation, I gathered that they were to meet in London, Piccadily to be exact. Mama Martin was suggesting they meet in Glasgow away from the 'devils' who know them. What else would a married woman meet another guy for if its not having sex in a hotel, in the car or carpark? I must confess that I had never imagined in my wildest imagination mama Martin going behind Papa Ajasco's back. What happened to all those romantic moments both of them had together. I well remembered how I coud go to visit them and I would find them sitting on the same sofa with Papa Ajasco's hand hanging loosely on his wife's shoulders. I could see one of his finger massaging nipple. In my presence?! Whether he was doing this knowingly or unknowingly, I cannot tell. At the end of the day, he is not a he-goat as he puts it. All the same, I had to cool the situation.

I suggested that we park the car by the road side and plan how we would approach Mama Martin.
"Papa Ajasco...something tells me that your wife could not be serious with that guy after all. Maybe its just talking, say casual talks. Remember you have not caught her redhanded eating that 'sugarcane?' at the right temparature...after all which lady can imagine of leaving quality of a guy like you?" I asked him in a bid to massage his grandiose nature.

"Man man, you could be right. I have never known my wife to have any traits of a prostitute...but if she can talk that way...she is a cheap prostitute! No integrity or dignity to count on!" he said.

"Papa Ajasco, it takes two to quarrel, surely for your wife to think of ever having an affair with another man, there must be something she is missing in you. Life is not just about sex alone or refraining from being labelled a he-goat or a Mogotio goat. For example, do you think that age difference could be a factor here?" I asked.

They say that birds of a feather flock together and Eagles fly with Eagles. There must be a common factor however small between a hubby and his wife. If both of their interests are completely different, then they have very little to talk about except talking about other people...Manman this, Manman that...Misterseed this...Misterseed that...blah...blah..blah...! I have always wanted to have special knowledge to understand how a beautiful young-looking lady in her twenties would madly fall in love with an man in his sixties. Papa Ajasco has a special attachment to African traditions while Mama Martin is a dot.com lady...young and hungry for what the world has to offer in the twenty first century. Think of a man who favours female genital mutilation...and your answer will be Papa Ajasco. He believes that he should know where his wife is at what time, doing what, staying how long, cooking what, what time, met with who, gender?, said what and all that.

If you want a man to hate you, criticise his weakness. Papa Ajasco did not like my question and his answer was, 'So what?! Age is just a number!' Even if its the issue of 'makaratasi' there will always be a problem if marriage is not based on love but other factors of convinience.

"Man Man, the only difference Mama Martin and I could have is that she and her ex do not want Martin to be circumcised. I cannot imagine living with a lad in the same house as I. He has to go through the knife like me to be sweet to his girlfriend!" he said. After a short while there was some silence. Suddenly, Papa Ajasco's mobile phone rang. He looked at me and bit his lips and cursed under his breath!
"Look at this adulterer, imbicile, fornicator...prostitute!!" he thundered.
"C'mon Papa Ajasco, take the phone, its mama Martin calling you at this hour!" I said.
From his gestures, Papa Ajasco was not ready to take the phone and he gave it to me to answer.
 

"Hallo Mama Martin, this is Manman. How is the going?" I asked in a bid to relieve the tension.
"Manman, how are you, so you are with my sweetheart, where is he? I am worried, its already 3 a.m. and he has not come back," I said.
"Sorry Mama Martin, Papa has taken one for the road and is already asleep in the car. All in all I am coming with him because I am driving," I said.
"Manman, make sure that Sweetie is okay...he is the apple of my eye, I can't sleep without babe," she said.
"Mama Martin, in exactly thirty minutes we will be there, he will all be yours, you know!"
Papa Ajasco was not amused. He raised his head in anger and cursed as we headed towards his house.

A Whisper from London (The devil in your life) Part one

London, 6th October, 2008

If I tell you that I don't frequent my swallowing joint here in London, I will be telling a lie. I normally visit there occasionally to have one for the road and 'mix' with wazee. In the bars we do not discuss who is going to win in American presidential race or whether credit crunch will affect the number of sufurias of ugali at home. May the right man win! We discuss about life...life in general. The things I hear in bar are very interesting, yet so strange. I happened to be in one of the swallowing joints and I happened to meet with my one and only friend Papa Ajasco.

Papa Ajasco needs no introduction to those who read my articles. He is now clocking those sides of sixty two years. He is very strong physically and mentally. He has a young wife of thirty years come December this year. She is a short lady of light complexion with a round face and beautiful set of eyes that looks as if they shine in the dark. Papa Ajasco is dark, extremely tall and has white hairs here and there. When talking he has this habit of removing his tongue and rolling it over his red lips. Nature has also equipped him with a set of blood-shot eyes. How the two came together and decided to remain as one is story for another day. I have also ever asked him how the 'ceremony' at that ungodly hour normally is considering the height difference. He tells me that so long as his navel and that of the wife are well positioned together, at that hour,and everything else is constant, there is no big deal. Whatever that means! Listen to him last Saturday.

"Man man, are you aware that in abroad, there is no one's husband or wife? Everyone is capable of being labelled a 'prostitute' in one way or another" he said.
Personally, I am one person who holds family values with a lot respect and my heart pains when I see a husband and a wife going separate ways.
"Papa Ajasco, I don't believe that even in a million years I will ever be a male prostitute, never...never...never!" I said.

"You are talking as if you live in a world of utopia, come on, smell the coffee...in this country there is no body's husband or any body's wife...your husband could be sharing a bed with you while in his mind, he is thinking of that young lady with pointed boobs...and hips that don't lie like those of Shakira, Shakira, Shakira," he said. Besides, some one's hubby could be making love to his wife physically but he is in fact imagining that he is making love to that young beautiful girlfriend who wonderfully made..." he continued.

"Papa Ajasco, are you trying to tell me that you don't believe that your wife is yours just because you are living in this country?" I asked.

"Yeah man, any woman is capable of having a secret relationship without your knowledge. There could be that somebody who manhood drives her coldness away better than yours. You can be sharing the same bed, make love and cry blue murder but to her, there is someone who is closer to her heart than you. Forget that she is born again to death, forget this nonsense of her being brought up in the strictest christian way. Do not be misled by her singing in the choir or speaking in tongues and fighting demons, performing miracles, signs and wonders. This is the end of the times, the devil is a liar!" he said.

"Manlike Ajasco, you sound like a prophet...for example...seriously do you believe that your beautiful wife can call another man these London cursed names like sweetheart, darling, boo, babe, Wang'ania, ithe wa Ng'ania, nyiina wa ngng'ania etc, etc.?" I asked rather curiously.

"Absolutely! Absolutely! If I am not the first man she spread her legs to to (unprintable), then she is capable. Tell you what, never trust anybody. Always put your ears on the ground. The devil could be around.
 

For the time that I have known the Ajasco's, I have known them to be one good family. I always find them eating on the same plate with the same spoon. To me, they are one couple that sit on the same sofa. Its not a wonder to see them massaging one another at the car park and kissing passionately even in superstores. I have never imagined that such satanic talk can come from the quality of papa Ajasco.

"Papa Ajasco, could there be something that you are trying to put across, why do you sound so bitter? Could there be a devil which has visited your place?" I asked as I sipped my beer. Papa Ajasco looked at me and looked away, then silence, another sip plus the usual rolling of the tongue on his red lips.
"Man Man, why are you so nosy? Why don't you mind your own business? I have never asked you about your private life, who the devil are you to ask me about mine?" he asked rather irritatingly.

Since attaining adulthood, I have always convinced myself to find all the reasons not to be angry. I hate arguments with all my heart. I am the best person to argue with because I will always give you a chance to talk and talk as I pick from your arguments what you think about me. Instead of being angry, I smiled at Papa Ajasco and ordered two more beers each. Talk of psychology war. Two wrongs don't make a right, do they? I made to leave but Papa Ajasco had this to tell me:-
 

"Man Man, thanks for the beer...why leave at this time like a donkey on heat? Do you have a small baby who is going to suck your breasts?" he asked jokingly.
"Papa Ajasco, I am not on heat, I wish I am...I also wish I am a woman to excuse myself that my baby want to suckle," I said hesitantly while at the same time avoiding to show my anger.

After some few beers, manlike Ajasco was now getting drunk. I ordered for two more beers and they did the trick. He was now in his usual happy mood again. Its good to note that Papa Ajasco's wife was married to a young white guy. After living together for two years, the guy started taking marijuana and other hard drugs. He also refused to find a job after he was sacked from his previous one due to gross misconduct. If the bills came through this door, the best he could do was to open the other door and throw them in the bin while cursing and swearing. He was also physically and sexually abusing her. I like maintaining my integrity and dignity and so I am strictly prohibited from discussing the nature of sexual abuse. The relationship became strained and they both parted ways. After one year, she and Papa Ajasco met and formed a relationship. Together with her ex, Mrs. Ajasco had a son by the name Martin.
 

Being a very good friend of the Ajascos, I can comfortably confess beyond any reasonable doubt, that Mrs. Ajasco has never imagined, leave alone thinking about having a relationship outside the parameters of Papa Ajasco's quarantine. During summer, one can see them holding hands as they enjoy the summer sun. The wife is pregnant with the second kid for the second time after a period of nine years. Papa Ajasco has of late been happy that his kid is going to be born and so he is still 'there...live..live, alive and kicking' as far as men matters are concerned.
 

"Manman, my unhappiness is emanating from the way my wife's ex is frequenting my home these days. Well, by law he is supposed to come and take his kid on weekends only. Last Wednesday, I went home and found him outside the gate waiting for his son. I cannot refuse him his son but.." he said.

"But what?," I asked him.
"You see, this is one guy who has had convictions, GBH, Warnings, who knows whether he wants to steal something from my place? I don't like this kind of arrangement!"

 he said.
"You better put your best foot on the floor and confront him, alternatively report him to relevant authorities" I advised him.
 

After sometime, Papa Ajasco's phone rang:-

Papa Ajasco: "Hallo, hallo, Mama Martin...Mama Martin...are you there..."

Papa Ajasco: "Mama Martin...are you there...anything the matter, can you hear me?"

It was Mama Martin, the wife to Papa Ajasco. There was conversation from her other mobile phone of her and another person. She was not meant to call Papa Ajasco. She could possibly have put it in the pocket and the call button was pressed against her prouser pocket. Ajasco could hear the whole conversation. Here is the conversation.
 

Mama Martin (M.M):"...I told you its okay. Why worry...even the third one...ahhh...no worry. If you worry you die, if you don't worry you also die!"

Unknown caller (U.C.): Remember those days...how on earth would somebody leave a girl like you...You are beautiful, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen...when I see your boobs, they remind me of a certain mountain peak. You are lovely honey. Wherever you are please pretend that its only both of us in a bedroom...I am undressed and so are you...We are standing up, you with your naked body and mine with me while I am perfectly elastic down there babe. Our arms are well wrapped on our shoulders. You are whispering something to me as I carry your innocent naked body on the bed. Sweetie, oh babe, oh babie, mmmmm....mmmmmmm.aaahhhhh...ssssssssss...oh baaabie...I am caressing your beautiful hair...aaahhhh...then your neck...your nipples...gosh..oh my...then your tummy...down..down...down..woh...stop there honey and see the wonders of nature. Your legs are like two sets of the forgotten bottles of Tarino soda... Are we together babe? Are you there?

Mama Martin: "Thanks babe for your kind words. I wish people can be like you exactly. You have uplifted my spirits and I love you are so kind luv and I cannot live without you. If our love had wings, it would fly to Heaven and tell they Angels; here we come! And you know what the Angels would say in chorus: make yourselves comfortable brethren! Aaahh...my heart is now with a man in the street...sweetie. Though we are not together, I still care about you honey. Throw a stone to any bleeding heart with love and it will bleed me.

Unknown caller: What of him, ...that old man who is packed full of sh*t?
Mama Martin: Oh...him, don't worry...you are doing injustice to those people who are full of sh*t, he is in fact overflowing with sh*t.

Unknown caller: You call him Ojamong, Okonkwo, Okot or what?

Mama Martin: That's not important. What did you say? Are we meeting in London or Glasgow honey?

Unknown Caller: Lets see...mmmm...mmm...but then who do you leave the kid with...in your condition?
Mama Martin: Oh..thats as easy as a kissing game luv. Just leave that to me.

Papa Ajasco started breathing heavily and pacing up and down on along the floor. He was throwing punches and hitting his hands against the wall. Some minutes ago, he was drank but now he was sober, very fresh. He was sweating profusely. His hand felt greasy and his tongue was now out like a male dog rising to occasion.
 

He gestured at me to wake up and go to his car while still listening to the conversation. Love was in the air. The more they talked, the more Papa Ajasco's anger mounted. Within five minutes we were on the main road heading to his house.

Unknown caller: Babe, I love you and I care for you and I would not want to hurt you. But how about him? Can you see it bringing pleasure on both sides?
Mama Martin: Forget him, he is just another country pumpkin!

Silence....another silence...total silence...
Papa Ajasco: "Man Man when did I become a COUNTRY PUMPKIN??"
I ignored the question and we kept on driving. The time by then was some minutes to 1 A.M.



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