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.