Category Archives: Uncategorized

My Parents Dry Humping.

Haha! This is crazy. It’s silly. It’s weird. Yeah, I know. But could you just give me some audience before you fill your heart with ‘feelings’? ‘My parents dry humping, you ask? Now, if you don’t know what the phrase means, it’s whereby people simulate an act of sex by rubbing onto each other with their clothes on. We are on the same page now I suppose, yar? You are probably now wondering how a sane person could take his time, pen and paper…sorry, it’s keypad this one…to write about his parents steamy moments.

Let me stop wasting your time…

As you know, traditionally, we, Africans, are a very conservative bunch. There are things we just don’t do, or say, or even hear. They are taboos and might lead to death – I don’t how true that is, so don’t ask me how. My guess would be, psychological death. That’s my idea, or reasoning, not yours.

For example; seeing your parents naked or sharing a bed with your parents (say mother and son or father and daughter). Short and, or, revealing clothes are seen as immoral and disrespectful. This one to me is hypocritical. Hypocritical because, let’s face it, back in the days the closest thing we had to decent dressing was a thong made of hides that only covered the private area. The rest of the body including the dark rough butt was left bare.

Whether they were fleshy or boney, the butts, they were left uncovered; daughter, father, son and mother’s. The breasts, whether they were like an apple or sagged like a deflated wind sock, were left bare assuming whichever position they wished. Different shapes and sizes. But no one died just by seeing that. This generation we live in wouldn’t withstand that. A lady walks past a bunch of boys dressed in tight revealing clothes or a mini skirt and hell breaks loose.

I know I’m boring you with all this crap, I should dive in to where my parents are dry humping, right? We are heading there, but let me explain that it’s not a pleasant scene you just ‘dive’ in. I watch television shows, and movies. The whites do their thing: They do whatever there culture and societal set up allows them to do. And since we decided to embrace their ‘civilization’, we are copy-pasting everything and bringing it home. It’s cool. It’s hip. It’s chic. I don’t fight that, but some just freaks us out.

It’s like say, a friend, a classy friend invites you out to some fancy restaurant, he or she orders lobster or prawns, and whatever weird stuff people eat, you’ve never tasted this kind of thing, but since you’re scared of losing points or scoring less on their scoreboard you half-heartedly go with the order. You eat but feel like crying, you hate yourself. In the middle of it all you excuse yourself and head for the washroom, thrust your fingers into your throat and throw everything into the toilet then flash it down. Wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You come face to face with ‘yourself’ on a mirror fixed above the sink as you lift up your head. Your feel ashamed of yourself for stooping so low. You then walk back forcing a smiling. You pretend you are full. That’s the life, a facade.

The previous night I was watching a movie. nd then there was this scene where a guy walks into his parents house, a mansion where he also has a room, you know that kind of life, yah? And finds his parents dry humping on a couch in the living room. His reaction was not anything close to what mine could have been: ‘Come on guys, you can do better than that, go to your room!’ His dad just said sorry, laughed then lifted his mom on his arms and up the stairs they went. Like seriously?

Now, there’s almost a zero chance that I could ever walk in on my parents doing that. Should I do, I guess my reaction would be to just shut my eyes and bolt out the house, and disappear for like a month. Definitely, they’d be so embarrassed, so, to avoid torturing them each time we come face to face I’d simply avoid contact.

If you are so conservative, which I’m not so much of, and is so taboo-minded then you are doomed. A slight sign of a common-cold-like symptoms and you’ll be ‘dead’. You hit your leg on stone, you blame it on that. Your milk goes bad, it’s signs of looming death. You lose appetite, have constant headaches, your health deteriorates, drastic weight loss, and become lethargic. But not me, I wouldn’t go down that road; if I ever walk into my parents dry humping.

In Readiness For Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

It’s about that time of the year. The time you started looking forward to from as early as the first minute of the year 2017. Time to indulge yourself in pleasantries and vices you can afford. There are those, with means, who have managed to put away some money to take their; families, lovers, besties, side chics and FWB’s for treats down to the coast or some exotic beaches and the like. Shops display products on ‘Christmas offer’. Tour and Travels firms have offers for the holiday lovers. Business is booming. All in readiness for Christmas day, it’s just A DAY – twenty four hours.

Entrance to most supermarkets and various shopping malls have someone dressed as Santa ringing a bell as he ushers in clients. Most eateries and entertainment joints are packed with most bars recording high number of patrons. The mood is set. The footloose, are travelling upcountry. Travelling to show off their ‘sophistication’ to the village folks. A few with means, fly. While majority opt for public transport, others make do with personal or leased cars. It’s time for mishpocha to be united and pass those family resolutions – like forming an association or sacco, or having an investment plan. As long as people travel back to town, all done and said is left where it belongs, in the village.

As people in towns make their preparations, we in the village too are busy. Getting ready for the BIG DAY. Ready to welcome our loved ones back home from town. Making sure the village is a ‘paradise’ for them. Comfortable by village standards. Just like in town. We the villagers meticulously plan for Christmas, and time is invested the preparations. Mostly begining from as early as mid November.

Sparking off the whole process is renovations done to the houses. The mud walls are redone. Those with grass-thatched roofs have a more tedious job of ensuring the roof is repaired just in case it has some leakages – this is the most stressful as thatching grass has since become a rare commodity. Thanks to the ever growing population. To make sure you get your grass when you need, one is forced to book in advance, as early as 4months. If you are unlucky, someone sets fire on the grass fields and that means you don’t get to repair your roof. For those lucky enough to have iron sheets, their work is simplified – they only have to worry about then earthen floor and the mud walls.

To get the walls and the floor done, patience and some hint of aggressiveness is required. This is so when you don’t have cattle in your homestead as one of the most important material is cow dung . During this season the demand is quite high, and the number of cows or bulls within a village are quite few. Not forgetting, it’s a dry season so there’s very little grass for the cattle to feed on. Yet still the entire village puts their hopes on the few underfed cattle to supply them with this precious good. Children are woken up by 6 a.m and sent with basins and sacks to the nearest home to collect the dung. Woe unto you if the home you are sent to has dogs or is gated. You have to stand by the gate until the owners are awake and the gate opened, because knocking would be so rude – some don’t mind it though.

Picture this: You are the owner of a gated home who is lucky to have some few heads of cattle. You are deep asleep, probably dreaming or maybe, just maybe, having morning glory. Somewhere in the middle you hear a knock at the gate. You try to assume it hoping it will go, or that you just imagined the rapping on the gate. The knock is persistent and there’s no sign of it going, instead it’s growing louder and bolder. You curse under your breathe and get out of bed grudgingly and walk out the house, praying it’s something worth it. You walk to the gate and on opening you are met with faces of barefoot children carrying basins and sacks. The smallest one, a boy, is standing at the front, has mucus streaming from his nostrils, he removes his tongue and licks them clean. You almost throw up . Yuck! His head patched with ringworms. He has blue t-shirt with words ‘I love Obama’. He has on a pair of torn black shorts. You take your eyes off him and study the other three. They are all scared to talk. In your mind you already know what they have come for – cow dung.

At this moment you have two choices: First, you can chose to let them inside the compound. Which means they’ll definitely be back the next day and you’ll have to sacrifice your sleep, for up to a week. Secondly, you can opt to send them away. Give them some lame excuse like your cattle have had constipation and haven’t been letting out any dung. Or that they hate being disturbed early in the morning, worse off, by kids trying to pick their dung, and that doing so would earn them deadly kicks.

In readiness for Christmas, when the houses have been redone. Some go an extra mile to put some writing on the walls – “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year”. Some remember to add the words ‘WELCOME!’.

What really does wreck my heart are these ‘civilised’ guys from town. They carry with them some misplaced air of sophistication and braggadocio. They complain and compare almost everything with whatever they use in towns. Lame lines like “Mbona maji ya huku si tamu” or “Mbona huku hamtumii unga ya hostess.” While truth be told they seem to be living a desperate life in town than we do back here in the village, and the closest they have ever come to tasting the ‘unga ya hostess’ is on a tv advert. Funny enough,it could be coming from someone who grew up here in the village. Walked barefoot. Went swimming in those muddy and dung-filled streams, occasionally swallowing that unhygienic water.

We , villagers, can not go through all this pain to prepare to welcome people from town,only for them to make a bagatelle out of it. It hurts. Then as they will be leaving the village, after apopemptic speeches soaked in fairytale promises, they’ll trick us into lending them money to use as fare back. There has always been a cri de coeur about those who, after going back to town, don’t remember to clear the debts left behind, and phone calls go unanswered. What a shame!

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.

Super Sales Rep.

They create a link.

There is always something unsettling about the smiles of sales reps. Unsettling because you never know if the smile is genuinely from the heart or some kind of bait. After a lot of observations I have come to learn that it’s nothing but a trap. A trap to indirectly lure one into something without having prior planning. Don’t you think it’s some kind of thievery in itself? Some level of conning, yah? Now, this sales reps…when handling male clients…are mostly female, beautiful female sales reps. Reason is, no man in his right senses would resist some attention from a gorgeous lady with a disarming smile.

Let’s say, you had a rough day at work. The Mpesa lady that you have had a crush on and have been trying to win hasn’t been showing signs of ever giving in. Three days ago you realised she hasn’t been showing up at her place, instead there’s this odd looking guy with an even odder looking Rasta Cap. In your mind you concluded he smokes bhang, because he also has the trademark bloodshot eyes. Your crush hadn’t given you her number so you don’t have a way to ask her where she disappeared. You are walking through the alleys trying to distract your mind with various items on glass display. Most of the shops have either some dude ringing a bell or some bevy of beauties inviting potential customers inside the shops. They are cheerful and adorning the cutest smiles. They could make you forget all your troubles and imagine you are super rich. You forget that your rent is due and the landlord had threatened to evict you because you have always paid rent late. Your cooking gas had ran out earlier in the morning. But still these ‘sweeties’ would make you buy a pair of shoes worth 7k, an equivalent of your rent for 3 months back in the ghetto.

Now, my story is different. I have a penchant for buying stuff online. At least for 4 years now. I’m so addicted to this that going into boutique to, say, buy myself a pair of shoe seems like an awkward thing. Recently on one of my shopscapeds, I had ordered for a customized pair of shoes from one of my contacts. It took weirdly long than I was accustomed to, I was almost giving up. I had been ripped off… It’s a risk one has to be ready for…the meagre 3k I had paid. Out of the wind, I get a call from a different dude informing me that he had a parcel that should be sent to me and wanted to confirm the shipping address before sending. It was slightly past midday. It was a busy day at work and I didn’t give it much attention.

Later that evening when I was back inside my ‘hut’ watching a movie, I remembered the phone call. Fiddled with my phone scrolling through its call log so that I could call back and ask if the mysterious guy had managed to send the parcel. On dialing, when the call finally connected to the other end, a female voice came through and I almost hang up. You know, one thing with me, I hate suprises. No, I loathe suprises. Akwardly, this female voice didn’t seem spooked at all. She was all calm, like she expected me to call. She sensed the skepticism in my voice somehow and introduced herself as Nancy. She knew about my parcel and that it had already been sent and I should expect it the next day. I was impressed.

I hang up and placed the phone back on the coffee table and let my mind replay that conversation. Feeding on the calmess in that voice, her voice. The usual sales reps thing. She was just being ‘professional’ if you understand what I mean.

The next morning I decided to pass by the courier office to check if indeed my parcel was due for pick up. Sadly, it wasn’t there yet. I was told to check the following day. Later in the day, Miss Nancy decided to call back to enquire if I had actually received my parcel, of which I informed her that I was told to go back the next day. There was some level of genuineness in her voice that I found intriguing. Somewhere in my heart I felt it was still ‘professionalism’. After I received the boots, she started asking if I still wanted to purchase anything else. Then I got a Gucci wallet. She sold me a Gucci jacket too. There and then, I knew I had to stop myself before I grew the wont of shopping every day of the month. There are times she could just check on me. She got me confused. I was right and I was wrong. I got to know her full name. Then she told me she was from NYERI. I assure you my phone almost fell off. I swallowed hard and convinced myself I was in no imminent danger. I felt my pants to see if my ‘member’ was present, and with a sigh of relief, it was there. Intact and unaware of my fears.

I am so happy to have known her. Made friends with her, at the time the country is polarized. As politicians are busy pitting tribe against the other, Nancy (A Kikuyu) and I (a Luo) are getting to know each other. We are doing what this country badly needs, breaking the shackles that bind us, tribalism. I Love this Nation. I love the diversity and the difference in culture. Nancy Wangu, thanks for being a SUPER SALES REP. The Best I ever met. Thanks for being a friend. A Kikuyu friend for that matter. It’s always an honor to do business with you.

Of Dreams and The Suspense!

Have you ever been woken up in the middle of some lovely dream? Say you had gone for months without eating chapatti and chicken stew! Luckily, somewhere in your dreams you get invited for lunch at a friends party. Set up on the table is your favorite meal, just as you wished it was. You wash your hands and with all your mastered appetite and eager stomach that is now rumbling as if in a celebratory mood, you grab a chicken drumstick and hungrily lift it to your mouth. As you open your foul smelling mouth to take a bite the worst happens… someone slaps you across the cheek sending you back into the real world.

You feel your right cheek and touch something soft that move toward your mouth and another part to your temple. You jerk up thinking it’s a snake.  You reach for a matchbox on a rickety stool that sits next to your bed. Accidentally, you knock off your old tin lamp. You catch the matchbox and strike a matchstick and discover it was a pair of ugly geckos that had ruined your sumptuous meal. The stupid geckos on a rendezvous on the roof of your grass-thatched hut, decided that it’s better for them to fall off and continue their love making on your cheek at the expense of your dreams. 

You pick up your tin lamp that has now spilt almost all the kerosene. The matchstick burns your finger tips as it dies out and you drop it to the floor cursing under your breath.

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Back inside your old dusty blanket that you must have inherited from your late grandfather, you appeal to Jehovah God to allow you back to the dream, back to the chicken you were about to devour. You cover yourself from head to toe because you do not want any interruption.

Fortunately, God answers your prayers and you drift back to sleep, then back to your dreamworld…

You are part of a tumultuous crowd waiting to receive Nelson Mandela. Mandiba himself. He’s supposed to be dead, you wonder! But the fact that the whole town is waiting for his arrival,  he never really died, you console yourself. It was all a lie, a conspiracy, a dream. After some waiting his motorcade finally arrives. One funny thing with dreams is that it’s never clear, you can be in this place and then another at the same time. So you are in a hall and then you are standing along the street. Mandiba singles you out from the crowd. He calls you by name and you are excited. You walk towards him wielding that boyish grin. You shake hands and he requests you to address the crowd. You are the centre of attraction and you can read envy in the people’s eyes.

You start talking and then you find out you are in a get together with friends. Talking about your past moments and reliving memories. You fight to shift back to Mandiba but it’s fruitless. You decide it was just a dream in a dream and you quit trying.

One minute you are driving home (back to the village) in this sleek state of the art Lamborghini with butterfly doors (doors that open like wings) and you just can’t wait to get home and show it off, then when you are approaching your home you are riding on an old bicycle.

Another instance, you meet this hot lady or dude and things are just going as you want them to. You decide to exchange contacts and when she/he starts saying the digits something wakes you up, and you remain grumpy the whole day! What a loss!

Dreams are sweet and fascinating. Dreams are silly and annoying because of the suspense. Most of the times, when I retire to bed each night I think of things I wish to dream of, once in a while it happens but mostly it plays tricks on me. Leaves with raw appetite. Hungry for more. But it never gives me the MORE.

The Wheel

We have dreams, we have misions, and we have visions followed by a well thought out plan or strategy. With all this in place, we have a well oiled wheel to surpass mediocre metes.Keep on jogging and never stop, except to analyse our progress. We can do it fam,trust and believe.

~jagweng

Missing In Action Pt 1.

I wrote this title and it threw me down memory lane, back in the 90’s. As a youngboy, I had developed a passion for movies. Technology had just grown a notch higher and black tv boxes were getting replaced with humped and bigger coloured screens that could be fitted with VCR players (Video Cassette Recorder), this made watching movies more exiting – seeing coloured pictures was more realistic and appealing to the eyes.

Now, back in the village … those days… electricity was only available at the market centres. So, those who could afford, bought the machines and rented rooms where villagers ( me included) paid some fee to watch a movie. One of the popular films of the time was; Missing in Action whose main star was Chuck Noris. A great movie it was.

However, what I wanted to write was about my absence for a couple of weeks due to unavoidable circumstances. I missed the beautiful WordPress family we always have here; Leslie, Don Charisma, Roxana etecetera. Wonderful people.

Lets get going, fam. Receive greetings from my humble village. Lots of farm preparations for the coming rains. It’s still dusty and sunny for now.

THIS IS A VERY SAD DAY FOR BLOGGING

Don Charisma

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO REBLOG THIS POST TO SHOW YOUR SOLIDARITY FOR A FRIEND AND FELLOW BLOGGER – JASON CUSHMAN.

It’s recently come to my attention then a friend and fellow blogger has been permanently BANNED from WordPress.com.

girl-boy-socialising-pb-516341-DonCharisma.org-1024LEJason Cushman’s blog HarsH ReaLiTy is going to be closed down shortly, which is a very sad end to an era of Jason doing so much for the WordPress community, and bringing NEW and PROGRESSIVE ideas into blogging. He is in blogging terms CHARISMA PERSONIFIED. Jason had this to say :

All blogging advice articles will be removed within 24 hours. The meet and greet threads will be removed by the end of next week. I appreciate everyone that has supported this website. –OM

Jason and I first came into contact when he invited me to join his “Project O”. I was pretty new to blogging at the time, and didn’t…

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32 Powerful Success, Motivational Phrases to Live By

Vincent Egoro

Picture credit: flickr.com Picture credit: flickr.com 1. Whatever comes, keep your eyes on the goal and push ahead.
2. So long as you carry around a failure atmosphere, and radiate doubt and discouragement, you will be a failure.
3. If you want things in your life to change, you have to changes things in your life.
4. Success is a decision away
5. Become sick and tired of being sick and tired
6. Promise less. Deliver more
7. The best revenge is massive success.
8. No sweat. No sacrifice. No strength. No success.
9. Failure is success, if we learn from it.
10. You never achieve success unless you like what you are doing.
11. Always think things through – then follow through.
12. Patience, persistence and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success.
13. Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones.
14. The number of times you succeed is in direct proportion…

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A Gift: “Pick Up That Brush And Paint”

Don Charisma

There’s writers and then there’s writers. I don’t know what the factors are between an awesomely talented writer and one who can barely string a legible sentence together. What I do know is when I read the words someone writes and I immediately connect with them – I love the smooth pace of what’s being said. jagweng is one such guy I’m sure has a future as a writer 😀

Team-Charisma-DonCharisma.org-1024x

This is the forth in my “Team Charisma World People” guest blogger series. jagweng’s worked together with me to produce a lovely piece of motivational and inspirational creative writing. He has a very expressive way with words, that to me is almost poetic, whilst not going all esoteric or haiku.

jagweng arrived in my comments one day. What a joy actually to communicate with him, he’s eloquent, polite, well mannered, seems to have grammar and spelling off to a “T”…

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