When a man is wounded, I tell you he is real real wounded. I looked at WR and JS the other day and I felt them. When you see a man look so desperate and miserable know that times do change and to quote one Barrack Obama, the forces of change are irreversible and irresistible. When you see a man talk and in every other line there is the word GOD, know that that man is down. But as I have told you before if you remember that Luyha dirge, If death was not here, where would the inheritor get things? Things happen for a reason. If WR and JS found God because of what happened, so be it. I also remember a neighbor back home who tried to rape a crocodile. He ended up losing his hand and his dick. And as a result he found God.
There was a time when I felt like WR and JS. That was the time when Bugatti found three G-strings in my jacket. If you have ever read about Charles Onyango Obbo on what a street smart guy should have, one the thirteen things he talks about is that a real East African man must have a collection. (URL). And he is right. I collect G-Strings. Where and how, don’t ask me. So I was taking my cup of morning tea on a Saturday morning when I heard Bugatti call me. “Magigi”. “Yes Mum”. I answered.”Come here quick quick”. I rushed thinking that she had hurt herself. On getting to the bedroom, I saw three G-Strings spread on the bed - black, pink and red in color. My God! I had forgotten to transfer my collection inside the car bonnet where I tie them. I did not wait to be asked. I collapsed. After a few minutes I came back to my senses. It took a whole two weeks without any communication. All these two weeks I was consulting expert liars a.k.a lawyers. They did not help me much in as much as one of the core units they study at the university is lying. When all hope had gone, one day I shared my tribulation with Katimba. Trust me women are their own enemies. I thought her advice was the best and so one Sunday afternoon I gathered enough courage and called Bugatti, “Mum”. She did not answer. “We need to talk”. I said “About what”, She retorted. “About events of the last two weeks”, I answered. “There is a confession I want to make. You see I am addicted to strip clubs and those things you found in my jacket were put there by those dancers. I need help. I need counseling. I am sick. I need healing. Please take me to”. I then I saw her look at me mercifully and I knew I was hitting the right cords. “When did this sickness start”. “About a year ago”. I saw her hop into her car and in an hour or so she came back with the Pastor of our church. That afternoon was spent in prayer and reading verses. I owe Katimba a Toyota Vitz for saving me. I have since asked Able Beez to organize day sessions for me!
As for UK, I don’t sympathize very much. To me he looks like a man who has balls of steel. I can imagine meeting him at Palacina and him saying “ Mwanoo, utwire naku Kinu kii?” (Man where have you been - matusi-@Wanyuru to translate)
FM is an old man. By the time the case is concluded he will have retired. What I can advise him is to make a bucket list of all the things he has always wanted to do and then he can take all his pension and blow it up. The international community will take care of him. With Charles Tyler, Omar Bashir and God knows who else, he will have good company. From what I saw those comforts are just too nice. If he wants I can volunteer to replace him and I can bring you Magigi’s diary every day.
My intention today was not bore you with Hague stories. Let me take you back briefly and cover the gap. Christmas is gone but the effects still linger around me. So let me tell you how my Xmas and the New Year went. You see around December 15th People’s stop thinking with the main head and transfer all their thinking to some other heads. I was not left out in this. So to ensure that I enjoyed my Xmas to the fullest, I made adequate arrangements. And if you did not know this, know now that the best Christmas is celebrated in the rural areas…what Nairobi villagers call Ushago. To make sure that everything was set for the occasion, I made two trips. My first task was to take my fridge to ushago and other paraphernalia (Don’t think Megooner Meggoner is the only idiot around town…tuko wengi). I think I have told you how I excised a leg from my Bull Ngunu, for the occasion and the fridge was for this purpose. My Probox became handy at this time…On the carrier I tied the fridge with ropes and put the other stuff inside the Probox.
So on the 24th of December I made my second trip to ushago, this time round seated beside me was Bugatti and behind there my three seeds. We arrived at 2.00 pm and as you can expect there was a celebratory mood all around. My first task was to ensure that the goat is slaughtered with animal rights in mind. You see, unlike @Carygoh you have to be humane to animals. I understand @Carygoh‘s way of killing a cock is very unique. She has to swing it around a few times and then wring its neck! I also understand that she hangs goats. When the cock and the goat are in the final moments of dying she gets multiple orgasms!!! Those acts keep her sane, they say. Talk of masochism par excellence!
After all these were done, it was about time I toured the village. In the company of Kasuti, the village ant-hills killer expert, the first stop was the local brewery. I found a group of locals who showered praises on me about how well I was doing in the city and in return of all these praises I watered them accordingly. With Sh 200 I was able to make everybody drunk and to avoid being called upon as a witness after the police came to collect the corpses because I don’t know how much ethanol and methanol and sisal juice had laced that alcohol, I made myself scarce.
I passed by the river where I used to water the cows many many years back. I then saw the spot where I had my first lay. It was on a rock with some sand. The bushes were still there and the monkeys were still around. I had seen Mueni come to the river to fetch water. It was around 6.30 pm and the sun had just set. Mueni was my classmate at Primary school but now we were in different boarding secondary schools. She had come and asked me to remove a thorn that had pricked her foot. Those days few children had shoes. I held her hand and took her to the rock which was slightly hidden by some bushes. I asked her to sit down and then I looked for another thorn to get the other one out. She had on a dress that covered her knees but when I started removing the thorn, she pulled it up so that her thighs were visible. After getting the thorn out, I looked at her thighs and told her, “You have beautiful thighs”. She did not say a word but just giggled. I started caressing her feet and took all my hand all the way to the ‘junction’. I touched it and she did not resist. I kissed her. What a kiss, the first kiss. Then I removed her black panties and it was so nice. I felt like my intestines were coming out, like I was going for a long call, a combination of so many things!!! I looked at where her buttocks lay and I saw that they had drawn a map of Italy. For the number of years I have lived ever since, I have never felt like that.
Just when all these memories were rolling in my mind, I saw Mueni walking down the road towards the spot where I was. The very place we had stolen each other’s innocence many years back. She looked quite different from how she appeared many years’ back…tight jeans, nice shoes, gold ornaments… She was accompanied by her two children. She told me that she had been married in a different district and that her hubby had traveled abroad for some business and she had decided to come and celebrate Xmas with her mother. I looked at her eyes and she looked straight into mine. I pointed at the very spot where we had our fun those many years. She then told me she will be back in a minute. After about 20 minutes she came back without the children. We sat where we had sat those many years back. It was one other thunderous repeat!
I then told myself that I won’t go home smelling sex because this is not Nairobi where you can sleep one kilometer away from your wife. You see in Nairobi, people get such big beds that you can pass a whole night without knowing whether your partner is there or not. In Ushago I still keep my Vono bed. This is a bed where if you like it or not before the night is over you will find yourself inside a person or somebody will be inside you. It is small and you tend to sink inside. I am intending to transport it to Nairobi because it can help couples make up very fast. Imagine a case where you don’t talk to each other for two weeks over a small disagreement like squeezing the tooth paste from the top instead of from the bottom. If you had a vono bed, there will be no disagreements because when you find yourselves inside each other you talk!!!
So I went to swim lest Bugatti would know that I met Mueni. Just nearby there was that place we used to swim. I removed all my clothes and put them at a distance and went to bathe. Just as I had dipped my hands inside the water, I heard some noise behind me. Upon looking I saw two monkeys picking my clothes. I stood up and ran towards them. They sped with my clothes and climbed a tree. If you think WR has had enough problems, just picture my situation. I was there with no clothes! I started begging the monkeys to give me back my clothes. The big one looked at me and threw the pair of jeans to me…At least I was happy. My phone and wallet were intact. I quickly put on the pair of jeans. I then saw it put on my T-shirt. It was D&G T-shirt which Bugatti had bought for me for Xmas because she knows my liking for branded clothes. How was I going to explain the loss of the T-shirt? I wish Katimba was available to give me her valuable advice. After some thought I went back to the local brewery. I found about 20 drunk people lying on the ground. I asked the owner to give me a jerry can of the local brew. I poured all of it on myself and started crawling back home. I arrived at around 9.00 pm and the two dogs which are known as the fiercest creatures in that part of the village saw me. When they saw my condition, they took cover. When Bugatti saw me she took a horse pipe and started cleaning me up, the way she sees me cleaning the cars!!!
For the next 3 days I could go to the river and see if the monkey was still wearing the Tshirt. The third day I gave up on recovering my designer Tshirt. I was imagining if the media people saw the monkey and researched on the story, The Daily Nation would have this as the headline---Man Marries a monkey, The Standard – A Nairobian rapes a monkey by luring it with a t-shirt, The Star – A man and A Monkey expecting a baby, The People - A man turns into a monkey….
Anyway it was time to get out of the village and join other Nairobians at the coast. Come with me next week and find out my escapades with German Tourists.
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Thanksyou @SimonKabz and others for giving me an award as the best behaved person of 2011. I want to assure you that I will maintain the same standards of behavior in 2012.
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@User has been spreading malicious rumors that I am the only Kenyan who should be frisked at security check points because my plough is 18 inches. I want to let all and sundry know that @User has been spreading false measurements about my plough. The actual length as of this morning was 18.5 inches. Such misrepresentation of the actual length can cause a big blow to my business. I am considering calling my lawyer as is the case with what everybody else is doing. My neighbor yesterday told me that she is considering calling her lawyer because her male dog keeps on sniffing my female dog which is on heat and hence causing it psychological torture. I either let her dog feast on my female dog or she will make that call. And she does not look bad…It could be an opportunity.
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Magigistocks@gmail.com