The other day i was reading the October  of  the True Love magazine,as i was going to work and i saw a ka caption of a lady who said she lost 50 kgs in one year.She used to be 134 kgs but is now 75 kgs,she had me at weight.She has a website, that offers dietary advice on how to lose weight.I am not a sucker  for diets,i  have heard they work,i have never tried any though.Am a cynist,i did not believe that story and i emailed her.She among other things have decided,to be a thorn in my flesh today.

First of all, Kenya power could not have chosen a better time to make the lights “ran”away than when i was ironing.So there i was,at 5.00am  bila lights,trust me,candle lit showers are not as romantic as we all thought…I under estimated the weather and as i was few blocks from my house a full on shower hit me.I never go back so running back to get an umbrella was out of question.I got to the stage all wet and shit!I get in a jav and am asked for money,i forgot my wallet!My day could not get any better…

When i finally got to work,i was having one of those mornings…Where i work you cant be pissed all day, something will get to your spirits up and have you forgetting why you were mad.

ANYWAY…i saw it fit to blog today,oh i know the next question is why that lady of dieting program   had me mad,she said she charges for giving advice,17 whooping thousands!Let me not even get in to that…enjoy this post…(true story)


When i opened the door to let her in that night i knew something was amis..She was grunting in pain.Back then we did not have electricity,i therefore could not see her face.She was  crying,I had seen and heard her crying before when things got tough,she would lock herself in the bedroom and cry to God.I was still half asleep,I let her in and went back to bed.

The following morning,i woke up and found her still crying her pillow a pool of tears and blood,her face was swollen partly from crying and partly from being beaten up.I was so shocked,i had never seen her like that,when i tried talking,we both started sobbing as she told me how thugs had attacked her as she was coming home from the bar where she worked.She lied,and for the life of me i have never understood why she did that.

I went to school very sad,i was in class eight and it was just a month to the main exam.She went to the hospital and they had to shave her hair to stitch a deep knife cut.When i came home,she had a sling on her arm as it  was was a pitiful sight.She  was far from the beautiful lady i knew,a former shadow of herself.

A few weeks later,she returned to work,against our concerns.Two days later,she came home beaten up again.This time whoever had beaten her was trying to finish the job he had started.She had strangulation marks on her neck,her voice had disappeared,her face was full of bruises.She lied again that she had been attacked by thugs, nobody bought that story for a minute.Nobody gets attacked by thugs two times in a row unless you have a pact with the thugs to inflict pain on you.

A few days later as i was cleaning her room,i saw a police report she had filed against one Mr. X.I asked her about it and i got some serious stifling for snooping.I let it go but i told my brother about it.He talked to her,he asked her who Mr X was and why she had filed an assault case against him,i do not know how that went down.

A month later,i cleared my primary education.Two weeks later,i left home to find a future for my self,we had a difference of opinion with her.I never told anyone where i went.That is story for another post.

Two days after i left the worst happened, Mr X finally finished what he had started.Nobody knows for sure what happened that night.

A week later my relatives found me where i was leaving and asked me to go home.I have  never felt how i felt that day when i got home and found a tent outside and so many people.Instantly i knew someone had died but i did not think for a second it was her.Well,my worst fears were confirmed by everyone but i could not believe them.

At the morgue,i got a glimpse of her lying in a casket.Her beautiful face now  deep purple with bruises and blotches of dried blood all over.That image was permanently engraved in my mind.

That was my mama.The pillar of our lives that was.The light that was.Gone too soon,a victim of ruthless brutal and cold violence from  a man she thought she loved.Had  she left when he first hit her, maybe she would still be alive.

We always have a choice to change things,we always have a voice to put an end to any b.s in our lives,but do we use it?Do we ignore things and blame then on fate?

Think about it.




The cold is biting,the ambulances’  siren is wailing,the t.v at the reception is blaring,news.The Script is playing on Myspace,if you ever come back.Am all alone in the tiny room called office,the naked bulb is glaring at me,am burning the midnight oil while at it earning my buck.Its then that i decide to write this post.I had an idea about it while in the jav,i was getting some serious elbowing by some  guy who decided he wanted to read the morning paper and i be his table,am seated between him and the driver who has decided to the gear thingy wont work unless it grinds on me*get your mind out of the gutter honey*.Anyway,guys,everyone who has read my previous posts,i really appreciate.Am working on moving from fiction to something else,but i think fiction is giving me confidence.Every single word i write here is undeniably from an amateurs mind,but .we all come from somewhere,so baby steps.I hope you enjoy,thank you 🙂


The pounding rain on the iron sheets is my lullaby.It has been raining for the past two hours,I am hurdled on the sofa with a blanket covering my legs,a cup of the now cold coffee is on the table.A cancer stick is dangling from my mouth,the ash tray is full.The lights are out,but the TV is on,its mute.I have been waiting for my wife since 9.00pm.Shes working she says,but i know better;shes working the meat hanging between the legs  on the son of a bitch called Kamau,that slut.

Things have not always been like this between us.Hell i do not even know how they got  like this.We have been married for 5  years,with  ups and downs as usual.She forgave my indiscretions,or i thought she did and agreed to try and make us work.My indiscretions mind you,are getting myself fired.She lied.I lost my job a year ago,she was a house wife by then,everything seemed to go south that time.It was a dark time of our lives.She had another miscarriage we were facing eviction,were had used our savings,trying to get our way out of debt.My ulcers had me hospitalized. We were almost giving up,she had given her resume to some of her friends,and at the nick of time,a former classmate offered her a job as an executive assistant.

Just like that,she assumed the role of the breadwinner,and i became her bitch.Things seemed to work for a time. Of course  her salary could not match my previous one so we had to  re adjust our lifestyle, still we were happy.She would leave early and come back in the evening to a clean house,clean clothes and  a waiting husband.We would cuddle on the soaf as she re counted her day,and i would listen intently,offering her advice having worked for years.I was still looking for a job,i had started drawing again i had stopped after campus since i got busy.She was a sweetheart,never put me down or disrespected me in anyway,but only for a time.Things began to change.

The meetings became suddenly many,traveling,office retreats,team building events.Having worked before,i took her word,she would never lie to me.My gut called me stupid,but i ignored it.

Six inches heels,lipstick,new haircut,shorter and tighter skits,make up and obsessing with her figure were what had me rattled,Sally was always a country girl,she didn’t care about make ups and stuff,she liked to be natural,part of the reason i was drawn to her.When i raised my concerns,for the first time we had a bad fighting,she called me jealous lazy,and many other things that hurt my ego and gave serious blows to my man hood.Her defensiveness had me raise my bullshit detector to a whole new level.

That was the beginning of many a fights,she started looking at me in disgust.She hated my touch,she could not stand me.We stopped talking,only talking when it got necessary,we stopped having meals together.The couch became my bedroom.She started cutting my allowance she started buying fewer things,the bathroom soap,sugar,calling them luxuries.I waited patiently for her to snap out of whatever trance she was in.I was wrong.

When she wouldn’t change,and her attitude seemed to get worse,i started following he.Being the country girl she is,her lack of  discretion sold her out instantly.I know everything,I have seen her do things to Kamau,things that i have never seen in my life,i have pictures of her in positions i never thought her body was capable of.I got past my jealous i got past my rage,i accepted that things have gone  south.I cannot see my self forgiving her,she has gone broken the vow she made to me  before God and man.She has burnt all the bridges that could have  ever brought us together.Am i unhappy?i really don’t know,my heart is an ice box,i only know one thing;the events that are going to follow will change both of our lives forever.

I know its wrong what i am about to do,hell its cruel and dangerous but it must be done.I cannot live like this,I am a man.A man acts.He defends his ego.He gives onlookers something to talk about,because he is a man.

The key turning in the lock breaks my trail of thoughts.The light flickers on as she hangs her rain coat and umbrella.

Its 1.00 pm.Time to act!


when i thought of blogging,my mind went blank.i am not gonna lie and call my self a big writer.i just have a passion with words.over the years,i have read many books and posts,i have subjected  myself to art,in its rawest form.i have read and in my mind given silent critical comments and loud applauses,all along i hoped that one day i would write something and some one would read it and do the same for me.
well,its not good to jump in without saying something about who i am,but then again ,i have found anonymity to be intriguing and disguise to be fascinating.when people have to imagine who you are,and have to create you in their minds,and the allure of you invisibleness is their only instinct the thrill is only unimaginable.
 so for now the only thing am going to give away about my identity is that am a sucker for fine art.if i get into it *art* i might go on forever.
 i am a sister,a friend,an employee,a christian,and a woman.
everything sounds so easy on the outside,when reading something someone else has written more often than not the thing going in your mind is,this is a piece of cake,i can do it too if i set my mind to thats easier said than done till you actually sit down, with a blank page and everything in your mind evaporates.i guess what am trying to say is that art is beautiful,and anybody with an artistic mind will tell you the  is the beautiful floral arrangement on a vase,its the lyrics in a song,its the words in a poem,its the fine details on a painting,its in layman language assembling a sudoku.BUT,its not a cup of tea,its effort,its sweat,its tears of joy sometimes or disappointment,its hard work and above all its art,yet in it comes satisfaction,dreams come true and passion is realized it can be reawarding but as we were all taught,no pain no gain.
 in reference to that,i will share my thoughts and opinions here.i intend to pour my heart here,share my frustrations and joys.doing that i hope i get a listening ear,because art is nothing without an audience.
i have to go now and assemble my thoughts,collect ideas and come up with something.
this feels like home.till next time,enjoy the January solar,bye.
I have been sampling a few blogs out there.I have realized few people blog their fictional work,and this being such a nice platform,i  have decided to post some fiction work.
That being the case,read this…


“Thairu!”she calls out my name with her loud obnoxious voice…knock knock…That is my daily alarm.Knocking, is the lady next door,she is just closing her business,she is going home.She is collecting all the unpaid dues.I happen to owe her two hundred and seventy five shillings.Two nights i have drunk at her bar without paying,She sells the local slum brew Busaa.
 “Thairu!! i dont have all day you filthy son of a…” Before she finishes hurling this obscenity i swing out of my bed and open the door.My eyes are still half closed,the stench from the near by  sewwage slaps my face as she puts her foot at the bottom of the door.
“Pesa yangu iko wapi kijana?ukiendelea hivi i swear nita ku…”She starts saying..
Im counting some coins left on the table to hand it to her,i give her Ksh 160/= and promise to hand her the rest in the evening,before she can call me names i slam the door on her face.She can be a bitch that one,lately she has changed she used to be lenient with her debtors but since the young man she was living with left her,taking half  her money,she has developed some really tough skin.
As i seriously contemplate going back to sleep,i realize its almost 7.30am,i must rush to work.Dont for a second think im such a hard worker,my rent is due.I search  for a cleaner pair of jeans as i fell last night coming from Agathas(bar)its coverd with mud.There is a pile of dirty clothes at the bottom of my bed,i rustle through them and find a trouser i wore thrice,considering that i wash cars for a living,i dont need a suit and a tie for such,nobody notices if you recycle your clothes.
I wash my face and head out.I live in Mathare Valley.
I get into it a matatu and head to town where i spend my days washing the rich peoples cars,lately things have been looking down,people prefer having thier cars washed with the  new pressure thingy.We are slowly being put out of business.My phone is ringing,its my mother.She rants about how she does not know what im doing in Nairobi and its the planting season back home.Between my fathers disapproval of everything i do,and my mothers disappointment,ill take my chances on washing cars at Kirinyaga road.
I get to work,there are no cars to clean,it is still early and am hungry.I  cruise to Shirus to  have breakfast(on credit)I feast on two chapatis and a cup of tea and get back to my work station,where we seat with the rest of the car washers and trade our drunken stories. Ndungu brings up the topic of siasa,politics this ensures a heated debate about some fellow seeking the governors seat in Nairobi, normally i do not participate in such,I have bigger(or smaller)fish to try,in this case my next meal or the roof over my head that might not be mine if i don’t come up with rent.Whoever said its never easy was wrong,life for me is nothing near easy.
“Ama aje  Thairu?” kariuki asks for my opinion and i realize i did not even get the question as i am not following the conversation,im lost in thought.
“huyu ata haelewi!”Ndungu interjects.
This discussion goes on for about thirty minutes when a two cars  drive in and  people get busy.
The whole day no other cars come,i told you we are being put out of business.What can you do with Ksh 200/=?The cost of living is not coming down anytime soon.Between you and i,i might be joining my mother for planting,i am assured of free meals accommodation and who knows, i might get my self a village girl who will be intrigued by my vast Nairobi knowledge and agree to marry me!
In the mean time,i will go at Agathas,have a jug of busaa and retire home and sleep on my spring bed.I have heard tales of people  who miraculously escaped poverty, won the lottery or something,im convinced this will be my only hope.
A day has ended for me.