Moderation Please, Facebook Men

Have you ever wanted to fart so bad, but you were in public? You can feel your body trying to be natural enough, pushing to get you to pass that tormenting gas. So you sit there praying that no one will crack a joke or startle you because, heaven forbid, you will just spray them with a new scent. You pore over the possibilities of you farting. Will it be the stinky one? Or the very loud one? Or both? And just as you’re thinking these through, you sneeze. And out comes the fart.

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That is me and men on Facebook today. I have a serious problem with you. Sadly, this is a menace that’s also getting into females. But I am no man, so let me speak as a woman who has been affected by men. I have tried holding in this fart, but no. here it is. Loud and clear.

First of all, just because a girl accepts your friend request, it doesn’t mean she’s looking for dates or relationships or flings. It may happen, yes, but not in the nonsensical mathogothanio way you’re approaching today. “Thanks for accepting. I need a girlfriend in my life, and I believe it is you.” Shindwe. What happened to knowing people first?

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Secondly, tafadhali, if you reeeaally want to compliment a girl, compliment her. Do not scare her away or put the dread of Satan and purgatory in her veins. Complements are supposed to make one feel good, not question where their ancestors went wrong. “Hi. You look really good.” It is simple, and very okay. “Hi. You look gorgeous. What do you do other than being sexy?” Please, Jesus did not die for this. “Hey beibe, I love the photo. Can I photograph you sometime?” This is how serial killers on Criminal Minds start off.

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Then there are the conversations you want to try, but you try so hard it’s repelling. “What is your name?” sigh. You sent ME a friend request. My account has a real name. Whatchu mean what’s my name? “Hey. You are very pretty. Can we make love?” Shindwe kabisa. That will not be making love. It will be the Devil collecting rent, pension, fine, and all other monetary fees from your soul. “Twende whatsapp please. Sina messenger so we can’t talk well” is just a very lame excuse. Why embarrass your mother? “Unatumia number gani whatsapp?” do not get mad when someone replies “natumia yangu”.

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Number four, we love dates. You realize I’ve counted like a Kikuyu. Lol. We love dates. But ask us out like the emblems we are. Not the “uko wapi” syndrome or the very new “There’s a new coffee shop in town, I wanted to try. Si twende” I am not an uber. Go.

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Dear men, we love you. So please, choose good mannerisms. And respect. And cut off the mushy names. We don’t know you. We may want to know you. Do not ruin this for us and complain Kenyan women don’t pay attention to their men. Is it possible to coexist in peace, please? If she didn’t reply to your inbox, do not resend another hi. She saw it. And is ignoring you, bruh.

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My dear man who had the faith to tell me “I am becoming your fan” I shed tears for you. Not crocodile tears. Real tears. You had so much potential. I am neither a musician nor a famous actress. And Nairobi is too cold. Fans are unacceptable.

Photos: Courtesy

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Watch Me Eat

I have seen people eat. I have watched people eat. I have observed people eat. Heck, I’ve even LISTENED to people eat. I have had very happy times in this my hobby, but I have also sat and almost summoned my ancestors for an intervention. There are times I have just thanked God for the process of chewing, and peristalsis, watching as that bolus descends the neck. Okay, honestly, this has only been felt when observing someone with an Adam’s apple. But, oh well, you get the point.

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There are people who will eat and you will fall in love. Not love, love, but you will feel very happy. From the way they slice or spoon or fork their food, to the way they bite, the chewing and swallowing… You will not get tired of observing. I’m not talking about the fake slow motion eating and chewing some of my fellow ladies do when asked out on dates. No. I talk about the eating and chewing and swallowing that says, “Yes. I know how to eat well. With etiquette. Even when I am hungry.”

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Then there is the mathogothanio most of us do. These, I have made special columns and categories for

  1. The musicians. They are those who will chew and you could literally start singing. Their ringtone composition is that strong. Dearly beloved, I have never ceased to thank God for Acapella. Making music with the mouth only is a tremendous talent. But my dear people, when it comes to acapella with food… Ma ni tutigei maundu ta macio. Priss. And worse, they will insist on talking in between meals.

Image result for people chewing food badly2. The forces of nature. These ones swallow so hard, you can feel the struggle the food undergoes at the force. My Std. Five Science teacher taught me that the digestion system is designed in such a way that the whole process should be smooth. My dad always told us not to fight with our food. So you see, when I observe someone swallowing forcefully, my chest hurts. Deeply.

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3. The racers. Have you seen someone eat like it’s a competition? Or like you will snatch their food away? Or is it that they eat so fast just in case Jesus comes back? You know, rather die on a full stomach and all? It gets worse when they’re in a group sharing food

4. The improvisers. I first saw this during a funkie. Some guy opened his soda, poured it all on his boflo bread, and within four bites, the bread was gone. Now, funkie aside, these ones will fold pieces of pizza or bread and gobble like it was some soft ginene they was eating.

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Now, I love eating. I eat a lot. But I have not grown fat in years. Why? I have been around these callibres too much. Aki na sijataja mtu. So stop dissing we slim people and reconsider your eating style. Also, stop hating on how Kikuyu women cook. We mix all those ingredients to discourage you from bad eating habits. Because, really, Kikuyu men especially where there is meat… Good Lord.

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As I once advised, “Before you marry someone, take time and listen to them chew. If you can stand that sound for the rest of your life, go ahead with the wedding.” Forever is a long time to persevere terrible table manners.

Photos: Courtesy

When She Asks

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When she asks you,

When she asks you who I am, tell her.

Tell her I was the beat to your music

The strummer of all your right chords

The maker of the pissing tunes.

Tell her.

Tell her I was the breeze in your soul

The whisper in your ear-

The inexplicable tug at your heart.

When she asks you

Tell her.

Tell her I was the anticipation of summer

The longing of a lifetime

The desire that ate all else away

Tell her.

Tell her I was that breath of fresh air

The smell of spring and bloom

The warmth of winter fire

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When she asks you,

Tell her.

Tell her I was the eye into your self

The haven at all times

The pillow for all your worries

Tell her.

Tell her I was the misplaced rib

The oddly unfitting piece

The disappointment that killed you.

When she asks you,

Tell her.

Tell her it is not me no more

Tell her I was a river

That I already swished past

Tell her.

As you hold her dear

And reminisce our times

But smile that all is well now.

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Photos: Courtesy

FACEBOOK, YOU LIED

I had a date yesterday. But I didn’t make it- because I spent most part of the afternoon and early evening waiting to meet the supposed love of my life. The Facebook game told me I would meet him yesterday. At my most favorite spot in town. I guess it lied to me.

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I went back home. Very disappointed and angry at myself. I must get to the bottom of this. So I decided to play more games. “What will my child look like?” “What would I look like if I was male?” Okay. Pause. I attended a high school where we shaved our hair in form one and two. One inch long was the recommended length. I KNOW how I would look if I was male, and it is NOWHERE close to what Facebook showed me.

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Let’s laugh for a minute. Have you seen the photos? Especially those showing how your kid will look like? Boy, I think there are many of us who’ll either have stolen babies or have wives who’ll lie of the real paternity. Because, really, hoooooow??? I need not explain. Y’all have seen the photos. Let’s be real.

I have a long nose. One that makes me struggle with small coffee cups and glasses. The kid facebook gave me has a tiny nose. And big ears. Have you seen my ears? They’re so tiny the piercing lady almost sent me home. And she has a wide face. Mine is oval. Case closed.

We all want a peak in the future. We want to know what will happen, who we will marry, when we will get rich, etc. We are a curious generation, desperate to know everything. And we will go to whatever lengths to get that truth revealed. Remember Loliondo?

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We have shifted our focus from the all-knowing God, and assumed His place. Ours is not to know what will happen. Ours is to live each day working towards the future we envision, all the while praying it is in sync with His plan. Relax. Taxes and prices of commodities have gone up. That’s all you need to worry about now.

On the real though, some of those babies are really cute. Ladies, we need to start paying attention. Genes nini nini, you know? Blame yourself if fate plays kalungu.

Photos: Courtesy

A LETTER TO MY VOTERS

I toyed with the idea of being a politician for a while. Then I decided it was the right choice to make. I sat and thought about it, before approaching my most trusted people. Some told me I was stupid, but the braver ones told me it was worth the risk. And so, my journey began.

We strategized. What would be my slogan? Which seat would I vie for? Which area would be best suited for me? My ideas were fresh. Very clean and forward. I could change this country. The minute people heard about what I had in store, they would wish I was vying for a seat in their region. I had faith you would love me. I was a threat to all “bad politicians” out there. When the time came, I approached you with all humility. And you honored me with your votes. Here I am now- your Lord Commander.

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Hi. My name is Politician.  This is my true story.

Forget my gender. Forget my race, tribe, back-ground, social standing, hobbies, or whatever else you may think you want to know. Forget any and every other question you wish to ask celebrities and popular people. It doesn’t matter. Rub it off. All you need to know is that I am a politician and you are a citizen.  I make the rules and you follow them. I am supposed to do stuff for you, and you’ll pay me in return via taxes. I am your leader, you’re my followers.

I wanted to change this country. I wanted to see a better country, with better leadership. I wanted to see a country where the citizens loved most of their leaders. We can never love all, yes? But to get that, I needed to have a good strategy. Okay. I call it strategy, but, in truth, it is selfishness. The seat I vied for would have to be a seat I would have utmost influence. The region I chose would have to be one I was certain the people would love and accept me. My political party had to be the party with the greater influence in my region of choice. My slogan and objectives had to capture your attention and remain on your mouths.

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I had to leave a legacy. Not for a better country, but to have myself used as an example. Sorry. Plans changed. I didn’t even realize it. Now I fight to survive. No, I fight to remain relevant and in power. I must do everything and anything to bring that to life. I’m sure you understand. You fight, too for your job, yes? I have to show you all the wrong things about my opponents, you know? I have to throw in a few harsh words here and there. I haven’t lost my humanity. I always apologize to them when we meet for lunch. Sometimes, I have to steal, too. We are making our region better, right? That’s what the money is for. I have to use force sometimes, too. Even the bible says “the violent shall take it by force”.

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Bu here is a secret. I blind you, and you’re very kind to remain blind. You are blind to the fact that it is you who holds the power, not me. That without you, I am nothing. That power is never permanent. And I must rely on where it falls at any given anytime. For that, I thank you. Let me not reveal more. You need to learn for yourself.

PS We must remain united as a people. Before they finish us. Will you join me, my people?

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Sincerely,

Your very humble, most able politician who’s not your friend.

Photos: Courtesy

To My Future Son & Daughter,

This is a piece that moved me. Every word seems to have been curved out of my own heart… Just said better. I hope my minions get to read this someday.

Adorned Woman Kenya

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May 25th, 2016

By the time you read this, the world will be a whole different place. The buildings will be taller, phones will be slimmer, blogging will have evolved and I won’t be struggling to access WIFI like I do right now. It will be a basic need.

Morals will be on the verge of extinction. They already are, (hence my reason for praying for you this early), and I will have probably gained a few pounds thanks to you guys.

I don’t know the number of years that will have passed from the time I write this, but I just want you to know how much mommy prayed for you. Before the thought of having you even existed.

From personal experience I know the importance of a good upbringing by parents. I’m also aware that parents can go only so far in shaping your life, but…

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