MARKI WABWIRE THE SUPER PHOTO MAN!

It is either the people from my village are revoltingly ugly or Marki Wabwire the photo man is a bad photographer. Photo shoots in my village are an annual event when Wabwire is in "town". The singing of the joints of his old black-mamba bicycle wakes the whole village up with a start. Mothers dive into their closets hunting down for clothes that do not have patches on them. This is the point where clothes are discovered lost and many househelps lose their jobs. On this day, petroleum jelly is used extravagantly leaving faces shining like alluminium foils in the sun. kids are forced to put on matching 'vitenges' with their siblings.
The old men generally maintain their cool. They treat Wabwire's arrival not as important but of course jumping like small boys on the inside. They would look for their Christmas coats and ask the house helps (assuming they are not fired or arrested and charged with stealing their wives' clothes) to iron them. Others will be sipping their breakfast while fighting with a stubborn tie that refuses to be tied. Those wealthy enough to own shoes will be airing shoe polish tins in the sun so that the little residues of polish present will melt and avail themselves for usage. Schools will be empty with only the camera shy teachers sulking in the staffroom about the myopic nature of my people from the village. This is how big Wabwire is in my village!
But do not be fool by the air of importance around the man. Ironically, he is one photographer whose image he forgot to care about! he had a small head with everything big on it. His neck was long and surprisingly strong, and from which a black camera the size of a suitcase hanged. His bony hips danced to the tune of the creaking bicycle as his toe stuck out of his akalas pedaling away to the stuffy structure that was his studio. On the door of his studio, a sign was proudly written on a cardboard with charcoal "WABWIRE AND SONS PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO" Underneath the sign was a rough translation:"DUKA YA PICHA"
By noon, the studio will be full with a long line outside. Wabwire would have hang a blue bedsheet he used in highschool to serve as his back drop. he would then take the families one by one into a gruelling task of posing and smiling. At the end of the day, everyone went back home anxiously waiting for their photographs. Wabwire would ride away to the city where he allegedly "washed" the photos. Weeks would grow up into months and Wabwire wopuld be a cursed man in the village. Everyone complained about his delay; from the chang'aa dens to the "chama cha wanawake" women's group; from primary school playgrounds to the market place. Rumours will even start going round that Wabwire had robbed them off their money! some even vowed never to take any photos again!
But several months later, Wabwire will ceremoniously return with photographs containing ugly people from my village! the anger against him would soon be forgoten as soon as people received their poorly taken photos.
"When will you come again?" the women would ask the super photoman.
Trying to wear a business like face, which made him look like a scared scare-crow, Wabwire would take sometime then answer: "mmmmh... let me check my schedule and i will let you know."
With that, the bad photographer would travel to the next village to continue with the vicious cycle of terrible photography!

*the names used in this blog do not refer to any real person. The characters are purely fictional. any reference to a real name is purely coincidental. lol ;-)

THE SHORT JOURNEY OF A CHICKEN THIEF!

From the very first glance you throw at him, something will tell you that there is something really odd about Embeywa. Born and raised at the banks of River Nzoia, the boy has mastered the art of  chicken stealing. Were it a degree, he would have been the proud owner of an M.Sc. Poultry stealing!
His escapades started way back in 2000, at the dawn of the new millenium when he dropped out of class two. At age seven, with no role model other than his uncle Waliaula the cockrell (who had impregnated half of the village), Embeywa had no other person to look up to.
His journey to the life of crime kicked off one hungry afternoon. The sun was on fire up there, making the empty stomach more empty! (that thing in physics about heat and expansion...). Embeywa was yawning as if he had been sent. He wished he was one of the birds in the air... those freaks dont labour or anything, they just wake up and eat! Or the neighbor's cows being zero grazed, what was the deal with them? just to sit there and be fattened? Or his uncle's chicken.... wait!
That was the birth of a bad idea! Embeywa looked longingly at the clucking hen in front of him. He had a decision to make. It was like having a hot potato in your mouth and you start debating whether to spit or swallow.... Good Embeywa decided to swallow. He took the bull by its horns, or in this case the chicken by its neck. You always go for the neck otherwise the bird will scream like a woman facing a handbag snatcher (story for another day). After ripping off the hen's head out of hunger, anger and panic, Embeywa roasted the big bird, kick starting his career in chicken stealing that would later land him in trouble.
So  our story begins while we were gossiping about our new governor in the shopping center. My friend Pascal, who claims to have taught at the Kenya school of Law was busy misquoting our good constitution when something whized past us leaving behind a trail of red feathers. While we were still nursing our confusion, a generously sized lady flew on the same route in an equally terrifying pace. After a second or two, a crowd of market people rampaged, on the same route singing war songs. this was no new scenario, a thief was being chased! You would have been a fool not to have joined in the chase! This was not only  an opportunity to catch up with old friends whom you had not seen for some time but also a chance to pick the pockets of strangers!
After hours of serious chasing and not knowing where we were, i finaly caught a glimpse of the thief. As you might have guessed by now, it was good old Embeywa, sweating like no ones business with a headless red chicken under his armpits!
We caught up with him. At this point it is important to mention that the generously sized lady did not get her hen back. Both the hen and Embeywa are victims of mob (in)justice.

MY FRIENDS HAVE BAD MANNERS! THATS WHY THEY ARE MY FRIENDS!

My friends are weird. I am officially concerned. One minute we are having a really deep conversation on matters of life and the next one is dancing to a non-existent lingala beat! photo sessions have neber been a serious affair; I am telling you my camera has seen all sorts of facial distortions. One lady friend of mine once commented that it is safer to look ugly on purpose (she is one of those who has locked away her passport photo in a cupboard with an intricate security system!).
My friends have low self esteem. In fact it is so bad that they can no longer take complements! There is this one who is really beautiful, but dare you say anything to that effect and all you will get is:"Are you making fun of me?" accompanied by a face the would suck blood out of you if that were possible.
My friends have bad table manners. They are greedy and their love for food is unhealthy. Three quaters of my friends will give anything for food! the other quarter has low self esteem and is trying to slim!
My friends are rude. We socialize by insulting each other. "Stupid boy" in our language means "you are smart and I am proud of you", "toka hapa, kuku wewe" means "please dont leave i need you". And a painful slap on your back is an equivalent of a congratulatory handshake!
My friends are careless. Apart from the lady friends, the rest never ever spread their beds under their own volition. I have taken it as a personal initiative to demoralize any friends who tends to make their room tidy!
My friends have no sense of fashion, save of course for a few of the lady friends. We might just decide to look smart as a gang or decide to "rust" as a gang! of course we prefer the latter to the former! I got friends who shows up in class in pajamas! of course i won't judge him or her because i would be wearing one myself.
My friends are spoilt brats! But they are angels infront of any of our parents (I hope mum won't read this part!) You should see how we smile innocently when one of our parents is around. But under no supervision, we are as cheeky as small class two boys!
My friends are poor at keeping relationships, unless the patner is part of the gang. because honestly no one understands us!!
I could go on and on about my friends... Mark you i am not complaining, they are my friends because i chose them. In the years to come, we shall make the weirdest and awesomest grandparents EVER!!!!

KUMBEKUMBE DILEMA: VILLAGE ROMANCE

If good looks is anything to go by, then Mundalo is one guy beauty forgot. Mundalo is a freshman at  Sirakaru polytechnic taking a course in carpentry. But ask anyone in Tuti shopping center where he hails from and they will tell you that their boy is taking a masters degree in mechanical engineering!
Mundalo's head looks like a deflated rugby ball and his nose seems to be on the wrong place! His teeth have refused to stay inside his small mouth and defiantly stick out as if in protest. He doesn't have a neck; his shoulders start where his ears end. His chest looks like the fist of a sick watchman. Needless to say, he has a six-pack under which two legs that resemble hockey sticks are hanging!
His extraordinary love for kumbekumbes (flying termites emerge from the underground) did not make him any more attractive! Mundalo would literally run mad mad at the sight of the insects. He would let out a strange cry from his throat and start salivating like a leaking pipe. His kumbekumbe trapping skills were way above average. he would devour the insects alive by simply tearing off their wings and smashing them between his molars! During the kumbekumbe season, when the termites grew wings, Mundalo's weight improved  dramaticaly and his head would assume a rounder shape... these were the best times of his life!
So how he managed to Impress Imelda is a difficult one to answer. it was one of those rainy afternoons when the rain had trapped the students at the verandahs. Imelda was a finalist taking a tailoring course at the polytechnic. Unfortunately or fortunately for her, she happened to stand next to Mundalo. A few smiles later and the two were chatting like old lovers. Every man who was eying Imelda walked away (in the rain) in disgust.
Mundalo and Imelda's chat became more interesting and more animated by time. But things came to a complete standstill  when the kumbekumbe's decided to emerge from their hideout. Mundalo fell into a salivating fit. He decided to excuse himself hoping that Imelda would leave the premises. The plan was to come back exactly two minutes later in get into the feast.
Lucky for him, Imelda was the first to excuse herself. No sooner had her behind disappeared at the corner than Mundalo sprung into action. He wildly attacked the anthills, grabbing the flying vegetables and chewing them like a savage!
He was sweating profusely despite the cold weather. It was then that Imelda appeared. The moment their eyes met, it dawned on him that Imelda had hatched the same plan as his!
At that very moment, Mundalo had found his soul-mate!

ANTS TO THE RESCUE: NJOGA'S PRAYERS!

(i fished this story from my archives when i wrote "the weekly lightning" way back in high school. enjoy!)

The moment I saw her I knew I was in trouble. Madam Wamukota was back from her annual maternity leave! She was our no nonsense Chemistry teacher.

“I want to see my assignment!” she announced sweeping her blood-shot eyes across the stuffy form 2W. truth be told I had not touched my Chemistry note-book (or engaged in any chemical issue for that matter!) ever since Madam Wamukota got pregnant!

Our desks flew open and the whole class started hunting for Chemistry notebooks, half of which were non-existent! Madam Wamukota, sensing potential punishes, fished out a meter rule from behind the blue door.

“Leo mutaaimba kikwenyu! (today you shall sing in your mother-tongues!)” she threatened, advancing towards Njoga’s desk. Njoga was our good Christian Union chairman. Though ordained and spirit filled, the good Njoga, like 75% of the class, had not seen any Chemistry text since the evil Wamukota started expecting!

“go to the corner you lazy bones!” Madam Wamukota escorted our small CU chairman with a kick. Next was Ambani. The boy was trying to get clever with the Chemistry teacher. He was busy scribbling the assignment with a very uncooperative red pen! Madam Wamukota electrocuted his chubby cheeks with a slap I have never witnessed since 1993! With a heavier kick, he was sent to the corner.

The drill went on for another 20 minutes, after which a whole bunch of whimpering form twos stood there preparing for the worst. I cursed the day I passed my KCPE!

“So you thought I had gone forever?” she was panting like the bulls from Ikolomani! “I am going to whip your lazy behinds you wont be able to sit down for weeks!” with that she left, headed for the all too famous Kumusambale tree, known for producing unbreakable whips!

Njoga broke into prayers, cal;ling for the holy spirit to come down and save us from the arms of the evil one Wamukota! And prayers did work!

As madam was fighting with a stubborn Kumusambale branch, she disturbed an ants nest! She suddenly broke into a break-dancing fit, stripped naked and sped away never to be seen again!

We made a point to join the Christian Union that very weekend.

AKARANGA'S LEFT SHOE

Akaranga has been in a bad mood since 2007. that is the year he lost his left shoe. He preffered not to call them shoes but rather "army boots". He swore by his missing incisors that those were the very pair he wore during the maumau war! Believe me, Akaranga's parents had not even met during the fight for independence. I remember him as a teenager whe he would bully the urine out of our bladders!
Ask anyone who knew Akaranga well and they would tell you he was the kind of drunkard that drunkards called drunkard! On the fateful day that Akaranga lost his left shoe, he was seen swinging into Mama Perpetual's den already high on something. Now, Mama Perpetual was an alcohol vendor. the people from my village proudly refered to her brew as "poison". Poison was a concoction of fermented porridge, sour milk, ethanol and formalin. Where she got the latter ingredient is still a mystery to the Criminal Investigation Department. Though it is common knowledge to the people from my village that Perpetual works at a mortuary in Eldoret.
So Akaranga had swung into Mama  Perpetual's den loaded with cash. Since politicians were careless with money during the campaigns in 2007, Akaranga had stumbled upon a handsome amount from one of the presidential candidates (whom he did not vote for!). He immediately announced his presence.
"Leo tutakunywa mpaka kuku warudi nyumbani! (tody we shall drink till the roosters return home!)" This announcement was received with jibilant circumcision songs from the already drunk patrons. The brew was downed in his name. An old man even swore that he had witness Akaranga killing a colonialist's dog with his teeth, a compliment which Akaranga accepted by buying the old chap another round.
Akaranga had gotten really drunk when he decided to entertain Mama Perpetual's customers with one of his far-fetched maumau tales. As he was animating how he had kicked one colonial army general on the back, his left shoe shot off an literaly disappeared in the thin air! That is how the party ended!
"Someone had better produce my army boots or I go fetch my maumau gun!"
Nobody had ever lain eyes on this feared "maumau gun" that Akaranga apparently possesed. but somehow the people from my village believed iot existed and nobody dared challanged the man after he mentioned it!
A shoe hunting committee was quickly formed and a seasrch began. The shoe was searched till the roosters returned home!
The reason I write this story is because the revered left army boot was found yesterday. it was resting at the bottom of Mama Perpetual's brewing tank. We ceremoniously returned it to Akaranga's compound and intended to throw a bash but he mentioned the maumau gun! Nobody has ever asked how the shoe stayed in the tank for all those years, except one old guy who attributed his newly found wife-beating techniques to the added flavor of Akaranga's left shoe to their favorite brew!

JUMP OR I BREAK YOUR LEGS!

Life was not easy for those of us who fell in love with the outdoors as kids. Some how, my parents insisted on us staying within the confines of our barbed wire fenced compound which we then considered prison. but as usual, the defiant boy in me would be tempted to break this commandment "Thou shall not step outside the compound" and the bad devil even tempted me further to break yet another one: "thou shall not climb a tree!"
The temptation of climbing a tree is one every African boy can tell you, is impossible to resist. I like comparing our childhood back in the 1990's with this new millennium. In ways more than one, parents have evolved into softer and more understanding species. I mean, take my little brother for instance, the boy is only 11years old and i can swear by the belt marks on my back that the little rascal is more cheeky than i was at 11! But truth be told he receives far less beatings than i did!
Inasmuch as so much has changed since the dusk of the last millennium, the urge of climbing trees is still constant among small boys. What has changed is our parent's reaction to this grave crime! not so long ago, while the whole family, save for my small brother, were sharing a lighthearted afternoon in the house watching a local comedy, we heard a high pitched scream from behind the house. to me it sounded like pig that had just woken up in the middle of a surgery. Naturally we all panic and rush out in confusion (without even formulating a plan!) and guess who is hanging on the topmost branch of the old tree (whose name we have no idea of) behind the house? my youngest brother of course.
Now there are several things i would have done differently if i was on top of that old tree. One of them, I would never have called for help! I would have rather stuck up there than be helped down only to face the wrath of my mother!
The next words my mother said made me to look at her for a whole ten seconds just to confirm it was her!
"Don't worry dear we shall get you down from there!" My mum went, attracting a pitiful whimper from the cheeky victim up the tree. I quickly flashback to how this same mum would have reacted was she to find 11year old me up the forbidden tree....
"Jump down this instant or i will come up there and break your legs!" and at this i would have hugged the tree even tighter!
I looked at her face again trying to see the logic behind her kindness. Was it to trick the little boy into a false sense of security before letting all hell lose on him? No. Her next words disapproved my hypothesis:
"Don't worry dear, we shall call an ambulance to bring you down, okay?" and the little rascals nods and carelessly blowing and wiping his nose whimpers again!
in my situation, an ambulance would be a far fetched fantasy! i would have gotten a: "get down from there or i will call your father!"
Now who is stupid enough to stay up there till dad is summoned? certainly not an African boy!
I LOVE YOU MUM!

GOD LAUGHED WITH ME

God looks at me and says: "Son, you are crazy and i love you"
i am like: "but Father, what about those who hurt me?"
God pats my shoulders and goes like :"Tell them a joke!"
I put on my business face:" Dad am trying to be serious here!"
God laughs:"There goes your problem! that's not how I created u! i created you in a way i created no other! i created you to be happy to make others happy. i created you with music playing in the background... angels were partying hard while i was creating u dude!"
I grin:"Really?"
God: "Am I man that i should lie? now go do something crazy to ur hair, tell those jokes and sing for me... and remember, if u love me u will not break my commandments!"
I laugh
God: "Whats so funny"
I smile cheekily:"Comedy Corner by Prof Chochi celeb PhD!"
God: hahahahaha! i bless u my son
AMEN
*COMEDY CORNER is a standup comedy show by Nalyanya that is held every friday evening in Moi University Main campus