Black Hawk Down! Bros Lie... A lot!

BLACK HAWK DOWN PART ONE.

One day I will tell you about Black Monday and the badassery of ordinary folks in taking down the US army in the Battle of Mogadishu. But today I will relate to you a rescue mission that took pure wit and gut. 

Phone rings. It's Moha. I havent seen him in weeks. I smile because this guy is my guy! We have broken curfew together just to buy groundnuts and cigarettes, we have read the same books, we have even dated the same girl (at different times. Nothing weird). I know when he calls he is somewhere flossing his teeth with a toothpick, smoking a cigarette and most likely chewing khat. Right now he could be clad in his sweatpants, arsenal jersey and Somali sandals like all Mohas of this world, and

I receive the call and in my loudest voice I blast 

"Muluhyaaaaaaa! Hahaaaaaa!"

Now under normal circumstances Moha would have replied with an enthusiastic:"Wariaaaaaaa! Hayye!" It's not a complicated inside joke. The premise being I am the "Muluhya" and he is the "Waria" so we switched it. You may not get the 'funniness' of it all but trust me, we laugh at such things. But I sense circumstances are not normal because Moha replies in his most humble of voices:

"Cheki bro, nataka useme tu ukweli. Jana tulikuwa wapi?" (Look here bro, I want you to say the truth. Where were we yesterday?)

I know almost immediately he is on loudspeaker and Caro, the girlfriend is breathing on his neck. I have never had to lie for the guy but today, wueh! I know he is on the spot. 

Caro is the kind of girlfriend who gives Moha money for mogoka and say things like "If you spend it on girls I will kill you!". She is a keeper that one! She oozes mega wife energy unlike some of you poor girls out here. But she has anger issues and she would scold my guy like a child! I sometimes take these death threats seriously but Moha dismisses them with:"Hawezi fanya any! We tuchane acha  uoga"(She can't do anything! Let's chew khat don't be a coward) Boranas are fearless like that. Which is why the humility in his voice is a red flag. Black hawk down!

I think of the most general answer I can give just in case my guy is in trouble with the girlfriend. 

"Buda kwani umechanga!? Hukumbuki tulikuwa wapi?" (Dude are you confused? don't you remember where we were?) I force a laugh. That loud laugh sex workers make to attract business. It's advertising. 

"This is serious Bro! You just say where we were!" At this point I know the man is in deep shit. I can almost see Carp glaring at him breathing through her beautiful nose like a rhino in labour. I calculate my next move fast. I don't know what lie Moha has told Caro, but I know for sure it's not the truth. The truth could get him killed. The truth in this case is called Sharon.

"It seems you smoked too much of that weed I gave you yesterday! Hang up the phone, I am coming to your place right now with milk!" I force another hooker laugh.

"Wait! Bro usikate...!" I hang up. I take my jacket and keys and rush to save this stupid man's ass before Caro kills him for sure. Black Lives matter you know.

BLACK HAWK DOWN PART TWO:

PSYCHOLOGY

Having a common ex girl forges a bond among men. Like when men went to war in the old days, you have gone through the same battles, your bond is forged in the crucible of blood and pain. That is Moha and I. We both dated this girl Yasmin. If you are reading this Yasmin, we havent forgiven you! I won't bore you with my relationship with Yasmin. All I can say for now is that she is saved as "Pure Evil" on my phone. That is a  story for another day. Today is a story about a hero who saved a friend in the most spectacular fashion. I am that humble hero.

Moha once told me that if you are cheating on a girl, you cannot lie to both of them. Smart guy Moha. But also the most stupid because he broke this very rule! I am rushing to his g girlfriend's house to save him from a lie that I have no idea what it is, and one that he dragged me in without my consent or awareness. That's what friends do. If you cannot lie to my girlfriend for me we cannot be friends. He has apparently told his Caro that he and I spent the whole evening together when infact I had not seen the man in weeks! My suspicions pointed at Sharon.

I arrive at Caro's house. It stinks of a nasty fight. One can tell because a few glasses are broken, the pillows are all over the living room and the most terrifying sight of all - Caro was holding Moha's signature Infinix Hot 3 (herein after referred to as exhibit 1) in her right hand with the left resting angrily on her wide Ugandan hips. I swallowed hard and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"Nyabo! Oli mulunji!" (Madam! You are beautiful) I have picked a few things in psychology class and I am happy to share my wisdom with you. Nothing disarms a lady from buganda kingdom than a man who knows the language her mother speaks. Caro looks unbudged. But I could detect a smile dancing at the corners of her Delilah lips.

"Ssebo I have no time for your nonsense! Get in here!" She is a boss this one, like I told you, she radiates GOAT wife waves. I step further into her expansive house and there he is, my guy Moha, sitting on the floor hugging his knees trying to look as innocent as Ann Waiguru. If his clansmen saw him at this moment, he will be cut out of his father's will. It was embarrassing and I couldn't wait to tell everyone!

"Ken how are you?" Caro calmly asks as if she had not just reduced this lion from Mandera into a house cat!

"Nze seli na bigambo my inlaw." (I dont have words my inlaw) I stick to my luganda theory and throwing in the 'inlaw' bit to remind her who she is to Moha and I. Psychology.

"Cut that Luganda business, we all know you are from Bungoma. Kaa chini. Kuna kesi hapa!" She waves Moha's exhibit 1 on my face.  

"Do I use the sofa or sit on the floor like my bro here? Moha! What's up bana?" I try to be funny.

"Don't start with me Ken!" I see I have no audience here for my world class jokes. I sink non-commitally  on the edge of the sofa. "Munange... You have always been a good friend to me before I even met Moha" is this girl trying to play psychology with me? "You can tell me the truth Ken." Clearly Caro does not know where my loyalty lies. "Who is Sharon?" She keeps her eyes on mine. Guys I had not prepared for this question! What I had rehearsed was "Where were you last night?" of which I would say "Beirut, Babu's shop chewing khat" and I had photos from a month ago to back me up. Caro was not following the script! I look at Moha for answers. The thing is we have developed a comprehensive code when it comes to lying to our women or parents when cornered and we have no time to cook a lie. I have used the code more than he has.

"Tell her my friend..." Moha says looking dead into my eyes. There it is! The code! "My friend" is another inside joke. We have a gay friend who introduces his male partners as "my friend". How am I to fit this into an answer that makes sense?

"Oh Sharon? Sharz!" I laugh to ease the tension. Psychology. "Sharz is a lesbian friend of ours. We hang out with her in Babu's shop. You should meet her, she's awesome!" Liars talk too much. But I am impressed with my lie. I think it's over. Moha gives Caro the "I told you so" look. It isn't over. 

"Oh that's okay." Caro seems convinced about that one. "And who is Camilla?"

It's like I had just been slapped. Damn it Moha!

BLACK HAWK DOWN PART TWO:

PSYCHOLOGY

Having a common ex girl forges a bond among men. Like when men went to war in the old days, you have gone through the same battles, your bond is forged in the crucible of blood and pain. That is Moha and I. We both dated this girl Yasmin. If you are reading this Yasmin, we havent forgiven you! I won't bore you with my relationship with Yasmin. All I can say for now is that she is saved as "Pure Evil" on my phone. That is a story for another day. Today is a story about a hero who saved a friend in the most spectacular fashion. I am that humble hero.

Moha once told me that if you are cheating on a girl, you cannot lie to both of them. Smart guy Moha. But also the most stupid because he broke this very rule! I am rushing to his g girlfriend's house to save him from a lie that I have no idea what it is, and one that he dragged me in without my consent or awareness. That's what friends do. If you cannot lie to my girlfriend for me we cannot be friends. He has apparently told his Caro that he and I spent the whole evening together when infact I had not seen the man in weeks! My suspicions pointed at Sharon.

I arrive at Caro's house. It stinks of a nasty fight. One can tell because a few glasses are broken, the pillows are all over the living room and the most terrifying sight of all - Caro was holding Moha's signature Infinix Hot 3 (herein after referred to as exhibit 1) in her right hand with the left resting angrily on her wide Ugandan hips. I swallowed hard and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"Nyabo! Oli mulunji!" (Madam! You are beautiful) I have picked a few things in psychology class and I am happy to share my wisdom with you. Nothing disarms a lady from buganda kingdom than a man who knows the language her mother speaks. Caro looks unbudged. But I could detect a smile dancing at the corners of her Delilah lips.

"Ssebo I have no time for your nonsense! Get in here!" She is a boss this one, like I told you, she radiates GOAT wife waves. I step further into her expansive house and there he is, my guy Moha, sitting on the floor hugging his knees trying to look as innocent as Ann Waiguru. If his clansmen saw him at this moment, he will be cut out of his father's will. It was embarrassing and I couldn't wait to tell everyone!

"Ken how are you?" Caro calmly asks as if she had not just reduced this lion from Mandera into a house cat!

"Nze seli na bigambo my inlaw." (I dont have words my inlaw) I stick to my luganda theory and throwing in the 'inlaw' bit to remind her who she is to Moha and I. Psychology.

"Cut that Luganda business, we all know you are from Bungoma. Kaa chini. Kuna kesi hapa!" She waves Moha's exhibit 1 on my face.  

"Do I use the sofa or sit on the floor like my bro here? Moha! What's up bana?" I try to be funny.

"Don't start with me Ken!" I see I have no audience here for my world class jokes. I sink non-commitally on the edge of the sofa. "Munange... You have always been a good friend to me before I even met Moha" is this girl trying to play psychology with me? "You can tell me the truth Ken." Clearly Caro does not know where my loyalty lies. "Who is Sharon?" She keeps her eyes on mine. Guys I had not prepared for this question! What I had rehearsed was "Where were you last night?" of which I would say "Beirut, Babu's shop chewing khat" and I had photos from a month ago to back me up. Caro was not following the script! I look at Moha for answers. The thing is we have developed a comprehensive code when it comes to lying to our women or parents when cornered and we have no time to cook a lie. I have used the code more than he has.

"Tell her my friend..." Moha says looking dead into my eyes. There it is! The code! "My friend" is another inside joke. We have a gay friend who introduces his male partners as "my friend". How am I to fit this into an answer that makes sense?

"Oh Sharon? Sharz!" I laugh to ease the tension. Psychology. "Sharz is a lesbian friend of ours. We hang out with her in Babu's shop. You should meet her, she's awesome!" Liars talk too much. But I am impressed with my lie. I think it's over. Moha gives Caro the "I told you so" look. It isn't over. 

"Oh that's okay." Caro seems convinced about that one. "And who is Camilla?"

It's like I had just been slapped. Damn it Moha!

BLACK HAWK DOWN PART THREE. 

DIPLOMACY 

A woman like Caro does not stalk her boyfriend, she investigates. Whereas you stalker girlfriends will give up after reading text messages on his phone (which smart men like Moha delete), Caro will hack his email and run a background check on all unfamiliar names on his call log. Which makes it extremely difficult to lie to her. Here is where diplomacy comes in! Diplomacy calls for diversionary tactics, logical lies and confidence. I am a master diplomat. Here I am defending a man, my guy Moha, whose crime I am not even aware of. I lying my ass off infront of his girlfriend, detective Caro. I am just done defending Moha about "who is Sharon?" When she hits me with "And who is Camilla?" Damn it Moha! How many girls is this one juggling? 

I am foremost shocked by how Moha landed Camilla. Camilla is a cop and she is out of everyone's league! Whatever league Moha is playing, like that team we support, he is not winning any trophies!

"Ssebo! You are quiet now? Who is Camilla? I know you know her!" Caro advances like a leopard that has marked its prey. It is time for diplomacy. 

"First of all Caro, hii ni madharau gani?" (What treatment is this?) I change my tone pointing at Moha dotted on the floor hugging his knees like a prisoner. "Can't your boyfriend sit on the chair we sort this like adults? Ona vile Moha anahurumisha manze!" (See how pitiful Moha is!) Heartstrings have been played. Caro calms down. He motions to Moha to take a seat. My guy gets up with fake tears hanging on his eyes. He is the best of actors! He even let's one roll down his cheek as he sits.

"Thanks babe..." he says sniffing and wiping his Oscar award winning tears. It is time to lie to this woman. I look at Moha in search for a code. We have codes.

"Tell her the truth Kennedy." His tone is grave.

"What truth?" Caro is now full of concern. What she has missed is the code Moha has just thrown my way. See, no human being on God's green earth has ever called me "Kennedy", not even my parents who gave me the name! All but one: A drug dealer in it hood who sells all kinds of illegal substances. I fear the guy so much that I am not comfortable bringing him up in this story. He is the only person who calls me Kennedy. I think it is a power move to assert dominance. So when Moha called me Kennedy I knew my lie had to involve drugs.

"Camilla is a drug peddler." I look at Moha again. We are both sweating.

"Yes." Is all Moha chimed.

"She hangs out with us once in a while..."

"Yes."

"Moha is addicted to cocaine..."

"No!" Moha jumps up

"What?" Caro's face registers horror, "Moha tell me this is not true!"

"It is not! Ken what are talking about?" Clearly I have messed up. My lie is too extra! But this happens in diplomacy guys. I have this in control. I hold Moha's shoulder

"Denial is the first step to acceptance bro." I have been to therapy countless times. I turn to Caro, "He has been trying to clean up secretly and Camilla, being a drug dealer, has experience in this. We have been working together to help this poor guy." I pat Moha on the head. He gets the message and humbled his posture. He looks like a puppy that has been rained on. It works! Caro hugs him suddenly.

"Why didn't you tell me babe? You had me worried! I am here for you and will support you in whatever way!" Caro hugs the guy again. Moha is now weeping loudly, gasping for air and throwing "I am sorry baby!" like Christmas cards. I feel my diplomatic work here is done. I have lied well. I start leaving giving the two love birds space to hug it out.

"Ken! Wait!" Caro calls me back.

"Webale nyo nyabo(Thank you madam),  I won't have tea!" I am in a hurry to leave 

"No. I want you to call Camilla." She extends Moha's phone to me.

"What?" We chorus in panic, Moha and I.

"Call her. We need to discuss, all of us, on how to help Moha" She kisses the condemned man on the cheeks. I have zero options. Diplomacy has failed.

I dial Camilla. I pray she is not on. She is. Hell!

"OCPD!" I blast as soon as the Camilla picks up. I need her in good moods.

"Ken is that you? Uko na Moha hapo?"(is Moha there with you?) I can imagine her dainty face framed in a police cap.

"Put her on loudspeaker." Caro whispers. We are screwed Moha and I! I put her on loud.

"Camilla where are you?" My plan is to draw out the conversation for as long as possible.

"Cut that crap! If Moha is there with you tell him I want to see him now!"

"Camillaaaa! Hata salamu hauna jaber?" I try to keep things light.

"I don't have time! Tell him to come see me now and explain things!"

"Things? What things?" I shouldn't have asked that!

"Infact now that I have you on phone, you can explain, who is Sharon?" Caro looks like She is about to explode.

I almost drop the phone! It is Sharon again. It has always been Sharon! Maybe Moha can explain: Who is Sharon?

4am demons

The 4am girl. She has drunk more than her boyfriend had budgeted and probably smoked something illegal. Six inch heels and the tight miniskirt were not prepared for this outcome. Her makeup is coming off. Her lipstick smeared on some dudes face... the dude she almost had sex with behind the urinals. She is screaming profanities at her boyfriend. Poor guy is almost giving up on her and the whole relationship; understandably so given she almost had sex with some stranger behind the urinals. She pukes violently. The boyfriend tries to hold her hair back and maybe save the two-month relationship in the process. Poor fellow is pushed away with more "F you's" and other insults constructed to demean his manhood.
"Where is my freaking phone?" She screams at everyone gathered outside the club's entrance to witness her drama. Taxi drivers laugh and shake their heads glad they didn't sire daughters. Boyfriend produces her latest infinix phone clad in a pink cover.
"Here it is babe..." He offers, hoping to be the hero that safely kept his babe's phone while she downed dry shots of whiskey and showing off obscene dance moves on top of their table a few minutes ago. He really should be angry with her utter disrespect to their relationship but he is Mr Nice guy. His kind gesture is welcomed with more insults this time extended to his family.
"Motherfucker!" She blasts. Boyfriend takes a few steps back as she swings her handbag at him much to the delight of the taxi drivers and onlookers. It is Monday, 4 am and she is as drunk as fish.
She suddenly breaks into laughter.
"Bitch!" She shoots the insult at boyfriend and bends down to puke again. She is sweating. Despite everything that is going on allover her face she is strikingly beautiful; perhaps too beautiful for the boyfriend. "Call me an uber you bitching son of a biatch!" She makes a poor attempt at kicking the boyfriend with her left leg, the only casualty being her miniskirt which tears along the slit exposing her sky-blue panties, and her perfect bum on which she lands. The drama has more audience: the campus praise and worship team headed for morning glory now casting pitiful and judging eyes at her. They shake their heads and thank God they are not sinful drunkards. Boyfriend is not sure of his next move. He hesitates. Grave mistake.
"We are done Collins! F you! We are done!" She laughs again and the laughter morphs into loud sobbing. "Don't leave me baby, I love you!" She raises her hands up like a baby. Boyfriend takes this as an invitation of truce and rushes to help his baby up.
"You piece of crap you have torn my skirt!" She cries as boyfriend tries to balance her weight on his shoulder. "Where is my jumper?"
"You left it in there..." Boyfriend whimpers. She is getting on his nerves.
"Go get my freaking jumper!" She is screaming again. Poor guy doesn't know whether to drop her back on the floor and go get the said jumper or do the same and walk out of this relationship. He is saved by a gang of three other equally drunk chics.
"Gai! Is that Shiko?" A tall girl staggers closer to the couple.
"Babe are you okay?" Another short girl joins the party.
"Collins what have you given her? You know Shiko doesn't drink makali!" Another tall chic reprimands the boyfriend. They are taking over this disaster. The 4 am girl pukes. Again.
"Gai!" The tall girl holds back her hair. "Bestie you will be okay..."
"I am fine! Leave me alone!" The girl spits out then wipes the vomit away with the back of her hand and off goes what remained of her maroon lipstick.
Music is still blasting from the club. 'Don't go am kujaing!' Sings king kaka.
"Woohoooo!" Screams our girl. "That's my jam! Let's go back bestie!"
"Where is your phone?" The short one asks. She really is too short.
"That motherfucker has it" Our girl burps out without even looking at boyfriend. The four girls stagger back to the club and poor fellow stands there. Lost. He has a C.A.T to sit in four hours.
"Bro are you okay?" It's a deep voice. It's some tall guy with dreadlocks. The guy who almost had sex with his girlfriend behind the urinals.

PATRICIA (part one of five)

Patricia is a man
He stinks of sweat weed and cheap ciggerates
He has three girlfriends and doesn't care for any of them
He hates them. But he loves hatred
He always smiles at them
But not with his eyes.

 Patricia has a deep voice and is always excited.
Patricia smiles with his lips and teeth but not with his eyes.
His eyes glitter with pain and anger and horrors of his nightmares
But he loves his eyes.
He enjoys burning people with his steady gaze.

Patricia hears voices
Screaming at him to die
Screaming at him to box the walls and play with razors
The voices are his own, drumming the insides of his skull in mockery
Cry
Patricia cannot cry. That will ruin his black eye-liner

Patricia loves bleeding
His blood is always warm
Patricia loves playing with razors on his wrist
And bask in the buzzing pain vibrating in his left arm
He loves the tickling of warm blood streaming down his arm
They make him smile... sometimes laugh
But not with his eyes.

Patricia loves laughing
He will laugh at anything.
At how pretty his angry eyes are
At how he dreams of being stabbed in the stomach
Or taking a bullet through his head

He laughs at his speedy funeral
No coffins
Washed bathed in fresh water and wrapped in white sheets.
Patricia wants to be hurried before 4 o'clock, within 10 hours of his death
He laughs. Never with his eyes

Patricia wants to take over
Patricia is the joker
Patricia is the man
He does what he wants


He loves to laugh not with his eyes 
Patricia is a man.

SHE GAVE ME AIDS IN (PART TWO)

"Brandy or whisky?"
"Anything with an alcohol content, except chang'aa"
"I have done chang'aa you know?"
"Get out!" My eyes wide, my jaw drops, "Aren't you full of surprises!"
"Turns out chang'aa isn't that bad!" She shrugs and grins. I am not sure if she whether she is serious or joking. She is Viola from our previous blog post. She is a gorgeous twenty five year old girl. And (as she puts it) and she has AIDS.
We have located from the coffee shop to the bar at Zaika Lounge.
"You know they say people who drink when the sun is up have either made it in life or they are clinical alcoholics..." I point out.
"Well they are stupid! You and I answer to a higher law!" we high five. The lounge has only one other person. Maybe because its 11 am on a Monday. He is a sharply dressed man in a beige suit with dreadlocks like Dedan Kimathi. If my earliet theory on day drinking is anything to go by, he looks like he has made it in life AND a clinical alcoholic.
A waiter comes to the counter where we are perched.
"Are you ready to order?" her voice should be on radio.
"I will take any vodka and two shots of chang'aa for this lovely lady." Viola explodes in that loud and careless laughter. She is roaring on the floor. The waiter is dumbfounded and clueless on how to nurse her confusion. "I am sorry, she will have the same." She walks around the counter to the shelves not at all impressed by my joke.
"So..." I start as as Viola catches her breath, "I want to ask how she infected you but it seems a bit insensitive..."
"Don't you want to know how I became a stripper first?" She is either toying with me or she is scared of telling her story. Either way I am curious with this bit of information.
"I have always wanted to be a stripper!" I kid. She lets out a whoop like sound then cocvers her mouth stifling her signature loud laugh. Dedan Kimathi guy turns and smiles at us.
"Chochi you are so stupid!"
"Awww, thank you!" Our drink arrives. We take the first shot together. It burns like acid. "So stripping..." I take out my note book.
"Oh yeah, your friend and I eventually got broke, and she suggested this new way of making quick cash at a club here in town. A cousin of hers was stripping there and she agreed to train us and get us a gig there."
"You mean to tell me," I sweep a quick look around the lounge to make sure we are out of ear shot, "There is a strip joint in this town?"
"Kwani which hole do you live in? I will take you there one day soon..."
"Nope!" i throw my hands up, "I am not ready to be a stripper yet!"
"To watch, not to strip!" But she knows I am joking. "Anyways, your bestie and I got hooked up at the club. We would strip dance on saturdays and sundays..."
"How much does it pay?"
" five thao per night..."
"Jesus girl! Maybe i should be a stripper!"
"You'd make a good one!" we laugh. Dedan Kimathi is clearly interested in our conversation. We give him the cold shoulder.
"I still strip, but in Nairobi. My stripper name is Viola"
"I dont know what to make of that . Wow!" There is silence as we down our drinks. We all know what the next topic is. But she waits till i ask.
"Are you ready to talk about it?"
"I want to kill your friend then kill myself." She says this as a matter of fact, calm, collected and premeditated. "She broke me first emotionally and when she could manipulate me she infected me. You know what she said after I told her I am HIV positive?"
"What?"
"She looked at me in the eyes and said, 'welcome to the club' !" Tears welled in her eyes. I patted her on the back. She pulled away, "Do not touch me. I hate being touched!" She took three shots of the vodka in three quick successions. I waited. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that."
"It is okay to react like that." I resisted the urge to hug her. "Do you mind telling me how it happened?"
"No I dont, thats why we are here, right?"
As if she knew what we were talking about, the waiter enters the DJ booth and tge lounge booms to Kate Perry's "I kissed a girl" hit song. We looked at each other and to my relief Viola cracks up in genuine laughter.
"It was a Sunday night, my third day at the strip bar and our shift was over. I was high on three different drugs. I could barely see clearly or even think straight. Your bestie was walking me out of the club's basement where our changing room was when one of the older strippers came along. She snatched my purse and emptied its contents to her hand bag. I was too weak to even raise a finger."
"What were you high on?" I was burning to find out.
"The usual, booze, weed, some of those pills they give mental people" I had heard of these pills but never laid my eyes on them. "Anyway she slaps your bestie and says something i couldnt quite hear but sounded like insults. We staggered out of the club and she shoves me at the back of a cab. The cab driver seems to know your friend pretty well. He asks if we have money and to my horror she sits me upright and says. "I got this one. She is fresh, you will see!" Before I even know what is going on, the taxi driver leans to the back sit and plants his lips on mine!" There is a look of disgust in her face. Her eyes, lost in the distance well up and this time she gives her tears a free reign. "The taxi driver asks her : "My place or yours?" "My place ofcourse, we dont have money on us" And we drive off. It feels like a few seconds before we reach your friend's house. The two carry me and throw me on the bed. She helps him undress me...." Tears choke her. She can't go on.
"Oh deary..." I hug her, she doesnt pull away.
"She watched him doing this to me. I looked into her eyes helpless. The pills had taken over my body I couldnt make any move. I looked into her eyes and she did nothing." She was in pain. I wanted to tell her to stop. I couldnt. "After he was done guess what?" I am silent. My own tears are filling up. "she undresses...."


"I went for HIV tests every two weeks since then and on the fourth testing my horrors were confirmed. I had AIDS. And what does your bestie tell me?"


"Welcome to the club..."


A true story.

SHE GAVE ME THE AIDS IN (PART ONE)

"You are so hot,  I will let you give me AIDS" I wink and she bursts out in a fit of infectious laughter. Her laughter is loud and careless and attracts the attention of other customers. We are in Java house, Eldoret town. "Seriously, you are so hot... it is worth it!" this sends her screaming in extended laughter. She is one of those humans who run away from the point where the joke was cracked while laughing.  A waiter signals us to keep it down.
"Chochi you should be a comedian!" she wipes her tears. It is my turn to laugh.
"You know I do stand-up for a living!" I punch her playfully on her shoulder and she punches back. she is a joy to be around. Her name is Viola and she has HIV and AIDS.

"Viola" is the name she told me to use in our interview. Its is also her stripper name. She broke the news about her HIV status via a text message, "Hey Chochi, I want you to publish my story on your blog. And I have AIDS". That's it. And I have AIDS.  That is how she put it, hard and cold.
" '...and i have AIDS'? Really?" I asked her.
"When you break such news several times you stop beating around the bush and just drop the bomb. I am used to all types of reactions..."
"How many people know?"
"Those who need to know." she sipped her second cup of coffee. I liked the way her pink lips kissed the mug.  It had been close to two years since I had last seen her back in campus.
"So where do we begin?" I try to be serious because we are loud and people are looking at us disapprovingly. "I mean,  since how long have you had it?"
"I have known for eighteen months now. Your friend gave it to me... "
"You have to stop dropping bombs like that! " My heart was literally beating in my throat. It is a bit disappointing that all my male friends crossed my mind and I suspected 99 percent of them.
"You know her quite well too. " Another bombshell.
I was speechless. A few seconds pass before I realize I am staring at her, looking into her eyes the way a certain 2022 presidential candidate looks at a land he wants to grab.  "Dude! You ain't fun anymore... "
I suddenly see in her eyes what she is afraid of, the reality of what she has in her. She has made it this far by taking it all lightly and laughing it off. In this dead moment I can see pain written in subtle wrinkles under her eyes. The pink lipstick covers a tiny sore that can only be spotted if you are looking for it. She sighs heavily and a hint of brandy hits me from her breath. For a brief moment there she hasn't got it all together as she would love the world to see and think.
"Are you still dating that nasty girl who does not know how to dance?" Viola asks, changing the topic and returning me back to the room.
"I left her" I smile halfway
"It's the dancing, isn't it?" Her careless laugh joins mine. When the laughter dies I realise we cannot look at each other with the comfort we began this date with.
"How did it happen?" I tap my pen on my notebook
"Well her dancing was so horrible you left her! " She laughs so had she starts coughing uncontrollably.
"Go away! You know what I mean! " I ignore the coughing.
"Well, my house was locked because I had not paid rent for two months going into the third month. I lacked a place to crush so I slept at a night club for a couple of days... That's where I met your friend. She bought me a meal and a drink. We talked about you for most part since it was the only thing we had in common. I waited till I was high enough to tell her about my accommodation situation and she was more than happy to help me out. That bitch! " There was pure hate and anger in her voice and written allover her oval face was pain. "She abused me emotionally, physically and sexually. Just because she had taken me in...  And she gave me the aids. " She said this looking straight in to my eyes. It felt uncomfortable. I felt she blamed me. I don't know why. I wanted to look away but it felt  unfair to look away, like i owed her this gaze; just as it felt unfair to ask 'How did she give you AIDS?'

To be continued...

KIONGOZI AT A FUNERAL

Kiongozi is wired to thrive at funerals. The member of parliament is a special mourner who only cares about the deaths that have occurred in the vicinity of a general election. When Kiongozi arrives at a burial ceremony, the women stop wailing and the dead is left unattended for a moment as their leader makes an entrance. He arrives fashionably late when everyone is present to witness his arrival. Being an embarrassingly short fellow surrounded by a gang of former body builders who now serve as his bodyguards, Kiongozi has everyone stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the overweight lawmaker. One of the village boys clad only in a shirt long enough to cover his privates has broken through Kiongozis security team and is hunting for a handshake. Kiongozi masters a fake smile greets the little bastard and makes a mental note to fire one of the bodyguards. The dirge has stopped and in its place the local band is dropping its latest hit about Kiongozi. Every politician has a local song about them nowadays. Waving generously to the crowd he marches to the tent meant for family, in-laws and watu ya Nairobi. The deceased widow is humbly requested to give up her sit for Kiongozi. She is told that the leader has taken time out his busy schedule to eulogize a lost vote. She reluctantly obliges. Kiongozi smiles at her and squeezes a one thousand shilling sorry in her poor heart broken hands. One of the bodyguards take long strides towards the pulpit and requests that the priest himself should introduce Kiongozi. Kiongozi is impressed, and makes another mental note not to fire the guy; he has redeemed himself. As soon as the man of God introduces Kiongozi, everyone
forgets they are here to mourn. The church choir switches gear and breaks into a traditional song much to the disgust of the priest. The choir master has added some "umph" into his craft and the drummist has gone crazy. The funeral has gone into a political frenzy. Kiongozi can already see himself back in office.
"Harambeee!"
"Kiongosss!!" The crowd is raving with excitement.
"Winston Churchill said..." the crowd screams and claps drunk with unexplained joy. This was proof to anyone who doubted the validity of Kiongozi's degree certificate.
"Winston Churchill said success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. Harambee!"
"Kiongosss!" The crowd goes. It is the word "enthusiasm" that has tripped them. surely Kiongozi is a born leader who has gone to school!
"And our people say..." Kiongozi is a smart man he has to throw in a luhya proverb to balance out the Winston Churchill quote in case his opponent accuses him of not being in touch with "the ground".
"Our people say when a dog barks during the day, no one pays attention. but when a lion roars..."
The crowd has now lost it! laughter and cheers fill the funeral. Did Kiongozi just reffer to his opponent as a dog and himself as a lion?
"Kiongosi nguruma!" someone shouts from the crowd eliciting more laughter. Kiongozi is impressed with the fellow and calls him to the front.
"Ningurume nisingurume?"
"Ngurumaaa!"
The village DJ at this point plays a soundtrack of a lion. The crowd is now in the seventh heaven! what!
"Harambee!"
"Kiongosss!"
Kiongozi has achieved his objective. He has stagemanaged his new nickname "Simba Kiongozi" with the slogan "Nguruma!". He offers a quick condolence message and heads out in the same fashion he came in, leaving the rest to bury their dead.

INFORMATION VS TWERKING NIGERIANS

So there I am in the office explaining the conflict between Israel and Palestine to my friends. They seem intrigued. I am a story teller and i cannot, for the life of me, tell a simple story without acting it out. My arms are allover the place, I am drawing missile projectile paths in the air, I am making exploding sounds with my mouth... I mean I am in there!

How I demonstrate the "six day war"

Just as I begin to narrate the "six day war" in Egypt as if I was actually there, an intern storms in with a sense of emergency and excitement in her eyes. She is making one of those little screams 22 year old ladies make in the presence of shiny objects. Trust a light skinned third year college comrade with her pretty lipstick to steal attention from anyone. She was waving her Huawei Y360 smart phone in the air while making a poor attempt at running towards us thanks to her yellow heels.
"You guys have to see this!" she squeals. She is cute.
"Actually Israel is about to attack the Egyptian air force here so..." I try to down play whatever she had downloaded thanks to the free wi-fi in the office.
"what is it?" No one wants to know which side of the war to support any more. So i put my imaginary jet-fighters back and join in the circle that has formed around this intern. Her perfume smells so nice. or is it her hair? Whatever it was, it was sweet.
"This Nigerian chic has released an awesome twerk video but watch what happens at the end!" she squeals again. Everyone was in on it. The Nigerian lady got skills though. The leso around her waist falls off at the end exposing her nakedness and the whole office roars with laughter. I pride myself in having an excellent sense of humor. On any other day i would have laughed my head off. Not today. I am an actor and I love my attention. She "runs" off to the reception to spread her message to the rest of humanity.
"So Chochi, you were telling us about Egypt?"
"The thrill is gone..."