It’s Friday night and I am seated at home browsing through Tweeter like some loner when I come across this tweet by @dailynation:
Prostitutes swarm #Narok in search of wheat boom
Now that tweet right there cracked me up. I mean how slick are these chicks? How do you just sit and think, “Hmm I gather niggaz in Narok are balling like crazy after the wheat harvest; My hoo haa ought to get me some of that cheddah!” Then you pack your luggage and just leave. I understand that all they need to carry is briefs and make-up and their entire luggage consists of a handbag but still…
I imagine Narok right now looks like the Red-light District. Them Maasai Morans must be having a ball! Lil Wayne’s Make it rain is the theme song down there.
And you know the women there cover themselves in shukas so the sight of a chick in a short dress is bound to make a nigga jizz. I imagine this is how they pick up girls in that part of town?
“Hey see this scar over here,” He begins, “it ain’t BCG vaccination. I got it when I was 15 as I fought off a lion.”
“What! You must be very lucky to have survived.” The baffled chick retorts.
“Me? Naaah… It’s my goats that were lucky I showed up in time. I ‘owned’ the damn beast.”
I would advise the prostitutes to exercise caution while going about their business. You don’t want to piss off a Maasai Moran. You know those folks never part with their rungus (clubs) and machetes so if you happen to be chatting him up and you’re tongue slips and you say something silly… something like, “Hey don’t they sell colognes around here?” The nigga will unleash a weapon and mess up your mascara. Same applies if you disrespect his livestock.
K-street on the other hand looks like the Sahara. The forsaken street is devoid of life. Only street lamps stand majestically on the pavements. Or who knows maybe the hustlers from down town (River Road) have moved there to hold the fort. If that’s the case then those folks that drive down there in their high-end cars are in for a rude shock. They’re probably used to driving by high-heel wearing, smooth-talking hotties so I can picture the shock on a dudes face when he’s approached by a miraa-chewing chick in faded jeans and trainers (or even worse, safari boots) saying, “itakuwaje mtu nguyaz, unadai shot jamo?”
Which reminds me; sometime back twilight girls marched on the streets demanding that prostitution be legalized. When it was broadcasted on the news, most of them had concealed their faces lest some bigshot realizes that the secretary he’s been banging is actually a full on langa. Some courageous ones did not give a hoot whether they got found out or not. For them it’s just business. And we all know how niggaz in town love their chipos.
So if the bill for legalizing hoo haa trading would have gone through, the proposal was that the government establishes designated hotspots where business would be conducted. As in it would have been just like your usual open market but instead of selling tomatoes, horny niggaz would check in and after careful selection, they walk into the sunset with their damsel. Or maybe the girls would also be allowed to hawk themselves. So you could be stuck in traffic at Nyayo Stadium and a chick walks up to you and goes like, “Hey handsome, nice tint. Care for a quick treat before the jam clears up?”
I wonder if in the designated hotspots, the prostitutes would be arranged in groups like vendors arrange vegetables in market place. So if momos make your cup of tea, you do not have to wander about and waste time as you look for one. They would be assorted in categories so you have tags reading momos, skinnies, dark-skinned, light-skinned, masquerading-as-chicks, trannys… and so forth.
And they would probably have a union. The KNUP. You know, just like the teachers have their Kenya National Union of Teachers that fights for their rights. That way a few policies would be put in place. For starters, I’m thinking the charges for their services would be standardized because the ones that are based downtown would cry of foul play. And if they felt oppressed, they would go on strike and demand the government to take action. The KNUP would call a press conference and voice their demands.
So anyway prostitutes in Nairobi were tired of engaging in running battles with the City Council and they wanted to run legit business. They were even willing to pay taxes! I imagine filing taxes would have been quite an embarrassing experience for the shy ones and quite morale-boosting for the bold ones. I can picture a scenario where a prosperous pro peeks at the papers of a fellow langa and sees that her returns double that of her counterpart. She probably won’t be able to contain herself and she would go like:
“Care for some pro bono business tips?”
The underachieving one ignores her with a sneer on her face.
“First you’ve got to ditch the eye-pencil. What you think we’re still in the 90s?”
“Secondly, you’ve got to shave those legs. Jeeez, you trying to attract monkeys or what?”
And bam! Cat fight.
I used to read a certain blog written by a self-proclaimed K-street prostitute. She was obviously well educated and she told some chilling, well-written stories of her night life experiences. At times I would even find myself drawn to the extent of sympathizing with her – Like when she talked about how some clients mistreated her. On other occasions, when she bragged about stealing from her clients, I despised her. She obviously wasn’t in this business because of destitution. She never claimed to have been pushed by circumstances. It’s hard to understand why some people do what they do.
I am not a fanatic when it comes to matters politics. Political talk does not tickle my fancy. You would never catch me shouting my larynx hoarse at a political rally. As a matter of fact, unless they’re giving out BMWs, I would never show my face at a political rally. Local politics barely appeal to me let alone international affairs. But when Michelle Obama became the talk of town after her DNC speech, I got curious and got the clip. If you’ve watched it, you will agree with me when I say that Michelle’s speech was nothing short of potent.
I have a feeling that the favorite pastime of the Obamas is practicing public speaking in front of mirrors. Heck these two probably do it during foreplay. While we all knew that Barrack is a captivating speaker, few of us knew that Michelle also had it in her. Well that was until she took to the podium sometime last week and delivered a speech that would reverberate around the globe.
We know Michelle as this elegant public figure who prefers taking the back seat when it comes to politics. She has not been as vocal when it comes to such matters. But last week she came out with all guns blazing. And as much as her speech was composed of personal accounts, any dimwit could see the disparaging contrasts she was drawing between her modest husband and his affluent archrival Mitt Romney. You’ve got to admire her tact and wit.
All in all, Michelle’s speech was vast with insight and I will share with you the 10 vital lessons that I took home:
1) Michelle reveals that in their earlier years, Obama was a common man with a dilapidated car, a coffee table he picked from a dumpster, and that the only pair of decent shoes he owned was half a size too small. She also talks of a time when they were “so in love and so in debt.”
To all the hustlers out there, don’t despair – We have hope! Through this revelation, we see that life is process and patience is a key virtue in success. Things do not work out overnight. So if you own a Probox, be proud of it.
2) Michelle reveals that her parents were determined to give her and her brother the kind of education they (the parents) could only dream of. She reveals that Barack’s grandmother often told his grandson that as long as that as long as him and his siblings did well, that was all that really mattered.
We should acknowledge and appreciate the sacrifices our parents made during our upbringing. I remember reading a disturbing article in the papers some time back regarding folks that abandon their parents and let languish in poverty back in the villages while they live like kings in the suburbs. Parents that toiled they hands off to give them a decent education. Such a shame!
3) Michelle talks about the importance of dignity and decency. She says that helping others means more than just getting ahead yourself. That success isn’t about how much money you make; it is about the difference you make in people’s lives.
A hard pill to swallow, but a prudent one all the same. Money should not come before everything/everyone else.
4) Michelle says that “success doesn’t count unless you earn it fair and square”.
Joey do not get tempted to steal someone else’s Range Rover. Do not start cooking crystal meth no matter how lucrative it seems. Do not look for shortcuts. Earn it.
5) Michelle says that they learned about gratitude and humility. That so many people had a hand in their success – from the teachers who inspired them to the janitors who kept their school clean.”
It takes a very humble person to acknowledge those people who make even the simplest of differences in his/her life. Gratitude and humility Joey.
6) Michelle says that when you work hard and do well and you walk through that doorway of opportunity, you do not slam it shut behind you.
Whenever you have a chance to lend someone a hand, do not turn your back towards them. Do not be selfish. Someone gave you an opportunity and the least you can do is to do the same to someone else.
7) Michelle says that being president does not change who you are, it reveals who you are.
Some of us will never even be presidents and we already have such big heads. Do not let big positions and power erode the goodness inside you.
8) Michelle reveals that she loves her husband even more than she did four years ago. Even more than she did 23 years ago when they first met. Reason; “I love that he has never forgotten how he started.”
Another perfect example of humility.
9) Michelle says that she loves that even in the toughest moments, when they’re all sweatin’ it — when they’re worried that the bill won’t pass, and it seems like all is lost, Barack never lets himself get distracted by the chatter and noise.
I love that last statement. People will never stop running their mouths. Do not lose sight of your goal because of a few disapproving tongues.
10) As an observation, Michelle is the perfect embodiment of a woman of character. She is definitely not one of those vain, materialistic and short-sighted women. She is a woman that commands respect. Those disillusioned girls behind the group CampusDivasForRichMen ought to borrow a leaf from Michelle.
In the poll, conducted before the Republican convention began, 64 percent of Americans said they had a favorable view of Mrs. Obama. President Obama came in at 53 percent favorable. While pledging his allegiance to President Obama, former President Bill Clinton said that he wants to vote for the man who had the good sense to marry Michelle. If you are female you better take notes from this remarkable lady.
Does the below excerpt ring any bells:
“…Fabby hails from Eldoret but the last time I spoke to him he was in Malindi. I asked him what he was doing there and he his answer; “I woke up and decided to relocate. I took a map and pikey pikey ponkied the damn thing and ended up in Malindi. Got into the bus without even packing a damn thing…””
In the post titled ‘My Special Friends’ I featured a good friend of mine called Fabian (Fabby). Fabby is the unrestrained, uncontrollable version of me. In addition, he is witty, charming, funny and quite the ladies man.
I once asked him if he could write a guest post here and he told me that he had no idea where he would begin. I found his response to be quite ironic because Fabby is the kind of guy that has opinions on anything and everything; from the causes and effects of the global financial crisis, to the perfect size of a chick’s booty.
I thought a good start would be an introduction. An attempt at demystifying the enigma that he is. Ladies, gentlemen (and sissies)….. Fabian!
I have done a lot of things, some of which have led me to different parts of the country, different corners of towns, into alleys and at times into wardrobes (nothing like R. Kelly’s closet). Some of my friends find me interesting, some find me retarded, some find me too serious but those who know me understand that I am searching. I know not what I am searching for so finding myself submitting assignments to Joeytales is not exactly a detour from my journey through life. I am not a writer, I am not a composer of sorts, I am a storyteller, not a refined one but not a crude one either.
I met Joel of the famous Joeytales (or so I hear) in campus. It was the first day of school, and despite his really dark complexion we were totally the same. People even called us the Cramp Twins, and yes I was the light skinned one with the glasses. I loved the girls. Chatting them up always gave me the thrill. When in action I felt like Captain Jack Sparrow on the Black Pearl. I was weird then. Regardless, my life was quite interesting and I tried to make everyone around me have fun. The funny thing about that day we met is that I had been talking with Joel the entire evening but only came to know his name after some random guy joined us and introduced himself forcing us to do the same.
I have no clue what we talked about that day, but I remember listening to his collection of ragga songs on one of those China players that had a VCD player, a radio, and even an internal speaker. At the time TOK was the in thing, and matatus were playing cds with funny names like Missiles by a guy named Simple Simon advertising a certain Nyanza House which supposedly held jam sessions on a Sunday. The thing about these Missiles was they had numbers and for a guy who went to high school with a name can be pronounced but not named. I was very dumbfounded.
I know I have the most complex life (I’m not trying to impress the ladies), and to help you join the group of the very few who understand me I will have to describe the who, the what, the where, the why and the how.
So here goes:
I look like Bill Gates without the money, I have been a DJ, I have a mulika mwizi that I flaunt but only because it gets people’s attention, I am the guy you least expect to hit a conversation with but after an encounter you get shocked. I am the smart guy who can’t convert the genius to good grades, the guy who can do a presentation without preparing for it, the hardworking guy who can’t stand bosses and the guy who gets laid a lot (sometimes under weird circumstances). I do not know what will happen next in my life, most of the times my life outside work shocks everyone including myself.
I have no girlfriend, but I am not single, Facebook calls it complicated but after the full story you realize that complicated doesn’t do my relationship status justice. I have only one item remaining on my bucket list which is getting laid by a South Sudanese chick, something that has evaded me for a year now. My name precedes me and my knowledge of this makes me avoid chicks who have heard my name. They think too much of me and always get disappointed.
I don’t drink, yet my favorite drink is tequila but only because of the magic it does to women (God bless the Mexican who thought of extracting juice from a blue cactus), I fit well in a boutique hotel, and even better in a road side kiosk. I am at times as open as a kindergarten’s children’s book and at times as mysterious as a dusty Atomic Physics book rotting away in a university library (we all know nowadays everyone googles). I have written amazing papers in campus, and written even shittier papers in the same institution. I am going to start my Masters degree, a factor even my own parents have found bewildering.
I love classical music and jazz, yet I can sing word for word on most Rihanna songs. I have worn blings (fake lil wayne wannabe blings), but never worn a suit and a tie (though I own three suits). I have attended one wedding only because I was forced to as it was a business thing. I have attended three funerals; two of which were in the same week and were work related. I like hanging out with people and I talk a lot about life, but I am actually a closed quiet person who would prefer to be alone reading a book.
I play the piano, I play chess, I play soccer, I play pool (billiards), I can swim but I resent it, I play table tennis (I suck at it), I play hockey, I play volleyball, I hit the gym but my body shies away from revealing this deep dark secret. I am the guy who bought an ipad just so I could get laid, and yes am also the guy whose been laid coz of an ipad. I am the guy with a deep understanding of things, who is very funny when funny, and bloody boring when boring (the British amaze me by their choice of words).
I am the guy with a collection of three hundred books you should not die without reading, a roots cd, an original Lionell Richie can’t slow down album, a packet of cigarettes with no lighter, condoms that have expired, three brands of shower gel, imperial leather soap (because my mother made us use it when we were kids), an oversize ring that I don’t wear and two pieces of furniture I made myself.
I am the guy who also has had boring evenings filled with deep empty boredom. The stories that follow will be in no order whatsoever as I have no clue where to start.