images (2)

We all like stories.We are all amused by tales.Because come to think of it life is one humongous story.Let’s tell a tale.A story of life.
This blog is the fireplace and I am the grey haired grandmother full of stories from ancestors who came,lived and saw it all before us.
It is told,by the great ones who once lived on this earth before us, that once, man and animals lived in harmony side by side deep in the jungles of the earth. The earth back then was undisturbed.The land was virgin and full of splendorous beauty.Mother earth was still exactly the same way God intended it be.Life was pure. Love was the code. The surface was full of majestic rivers, royal lakes,seas and vast oceans. The big herbivores roamed the jungles in large herds.Guns and spears were an alien technology.Rhinos and Elephants would exist without the fear of being gunned down for their tusks.The antelopes would only worry about the Lion and the Jaguar but not man’s spear.  This was the period when predators enjoyed life because food was in plenty.
All the animals of the jungle owed allegiance to man.Man was supreme  leader of them all.He was superior over the Lion  even with his mighty fearful roar.He was supreme over the Elephant even with his colloquial size and shear unimaginable strength.The leopard in his speed and tenacity paid respect to man.The frightening jaguar bowed before him.
On one fateful day,the animals realised that man was low in spirit.He was not as lively and cheerful as he used to be.The animals sought to find out how they could be of help to man.
The gazelle in her generosity said,I know what we should do,we should share some of our strengths with man,maybe, that will cheer him up.All animals agreed to each contribute a portion of there natural endowments and giftings to man.
The Lion went first, he gave man his kingly attitude so that man would feel confident in himself once more.The leopard followed and shared his superfast speed with man.The Elephant handed over  of his sheer strength to man and all the animals of the jungles donated part of there gifting  to man. The peackock shared its dazzling beauty.The snake his wisdom,the owl its secrets,the hyena its laughter.All the other animals followed suit. And when they were done,the gazelle said to the rest of the animals,”now, man has everything he needs to make him cheerful and happy once more.But the owl in his wisdom opposed and interjected saying, “Nooo,I have  looked into mans eyes and peeped into his soul and I have seen a deep dark hole in him. Nothing he ever gets will fully satisfy him.” All the animals were confused,asking themselves the question “what does man really need for him to be fully satisfied?”



images (1)

One day,the man you call boss will report to work in high spirits.You won’t know the cause of his excellent moods.Maybe,after a series of quarrels and gruesome arguments  with his wife she might have put the right ratio of water to sugar in his tea.Or maybe she might have laced his breakfast with cocaine or weed she got from Ethiopia you never know this things.
Me thinks a smiling boss is the most dangerous animal in the planet.More dangerous than a hyena that laughs while biting your ass.So one has to be weary of a smiling boss.What is there to smile about when your the boss?A mischevious employee?A Delayed consignment?Maybe a bounced cheque right?No.The boss always has a bunch of staff to worry about and when he is seen smiling then a hot potatoe is definitely cooking somewhere.
He came to the office early today .By teabreak he bought a cake for everyone in the office.Christmas came early for us this year,huh.After we had staffed our bellies full with the boss’ cake,then came the bang!!
Boss asked whether we got some some cake,he proceeds to ask us to shift a dude’s computer from his spacious private,corner office to our open office where we don’t get to Facebook all day long like the dude does.
We are the official agents of doom.Messengers of Lucifer himself sent to breath fire into the mans existence.I am not mentioning names here because the dude is an ass.You don’t get to play around with his precious name and survive.He might make sure that I sink down with him,or better yet he might drag me into Maraga’s under budgeted court rooms for a trial.He might possibly sue me for defamation.And I don’t wanna find myself before an aggrevated judge whose salary might have been slashed due to the recent judicial budgetary tranculation.You get the gist as to why I am not mentioning names here right??
As I am busy disconnecting the mans computer,he stands in front of his former desk as he tells some dudes who pretend to care that he has been fired.I know they don’t give a damn from there facial expressions.In any case,I feel for the man more because a soul might have whispered to me somewhere that the mans journey with the company was almost over.Suffice that statement to mean that I had already glimpsed into the mans future and I knew what was awaiting him today.
So as he walked into the office with his usual pumped up ignorance,arrogance and pride that superceeds that of a white peacock, I knew a termination letter was hanging somewhere in the hallways of the office eargerly awaiting to be handed over to him.Poor proud soul.
They say pride comes before a downfall.This was the story of the fired man.25 years ago,when I had not yet seen the light of day nor the darkness of night this man was employed into the company.At the time,my boss was still a small boy.Jumping up and down in the factory’s yard probably playing hide and seek with his brothers. The fired man saw them as young boys.He watched them grow,he watched them learn,he watched them fly into Europe to get an education. In all his watching he never learnt that children grow into adults .Or maybe he learnt but he simply chose to ignore the lesson.After all ignorance seems to be his trademark.
While they boys were away,the fired man got promoted by the boys’ father.He was a trustee in the company.To top it all he was given a beautiful,spacious corner office that he graciously lost today.In his arrogance,he thought he had earned blood rights and an inheritance in the company.He would become a bully.He trashed and disrespected other employees.He had climbed to the top and anyone beneath him was deemed a nobody.
The boys he had seen while young would later come back to the company.This time they were men.But the arrogant man still thought they were boys.They had received an exotic education and there English was flawless. Still,this was not a sign enough for the fired man that the boys he had once seen had earned an equal right and space in the table of men.
He choose to disrespect them even when they had assumed critical positions in the company from there fathers.He wouldnt do a thing they said.He even dared raise his African voice against them. His arrogant self still thought of them as harmless,stupid kids.Well,he was damn wrong.
He had just messed with the wrong pack of wolves.They would punch back mercilessly.Merciless because he never got wind of what was coming for him.He still floated around the company with a deep sense of false pride.He thought himself a god.Invincible. The only black skin that could dare raise his voice against the owners sons without consequences.
On 30th July,a chilly Monday morning in Nairobi,he would report to work bouncing in pride as usual.He checked into his office,took the sugarless tea as usual and started facebooking because this is the only company that gives wages to a fulltime facebooker. Coincidentally, this same day was the boss’ birthday,as the rest of us would be receiving a piece of cake the fired man would be receiving a terminination letter. I ain’t no sadist but humility goes a long way in creating amicable relationships with others.Stay humble.Stay foolish.Its the perfect state of learning.



Jose is a beautiful boy. That is if beautiful is an acceptable adjective to use when describing a boy. He has a scalp full of baby locks on his baby head.  Jose is full of life and healthier than the healthiest mule there is.
Today, he is putting on a green sweatshirt and pyjama pants. But unlike many young boys in his age,Jose finds himself surrounded by circumstances that his young brain is not mature enough to comprehend. You see,Jose’s mother is not sane.Suffice that statement to mean, the young innocent boy was born of a mad woman.I didn’t mean to come across as being insensitive or arrogant but for lack of better words to describe her,allow me if you may,to call her insane.But that is purely for purposes of clarity and for your own better understanding of the story I am trying to cook here.
Right next to VI Agroforesty,by the highway that connects the sleepy town of Kitale to Eldoret,you will will find him comfortably cuddled by her loving mother.Nature is so self sufficient,even a mad woman knows she is responsible for her child.
On this lucky day,as fate would have it,I finally glimpsed deeper into Jose’s existence and realised that his future looks oblique. I found him playing around as is his norm.The clouds were dark and pregnant,they had robbed humanity of precious sunshine. It was lunchtime,most offices had been abandoned for the safety of hotels.
But here, Jose seemed unaware of what was up. He seems not to be aware of anything in his life called lunch. By extension,it could also mean breakfast and supper are alien terms to him.He spots a vendor carrying a bucket full of pineapples. He quickly dashes off towards the lady. A fat luhya woman. I know she is luhya by the sheer size of her legs.In luhya land we call it Chindumbu.An embodiment of a perfect luhya woman.OK,back to Jose.
The vendor stares at him wearily, as though she had been confronted by a snake.He talks to her while pointing at the pineapples.But he had no money on him.The vendor sneered and left him standing there.Jose’s mother calls him and hands him a coin.He then proceeds to persue the pineapple woman with big legs and earned himself a piece of  delicacy he had been craving about.
At   this point,my heart was nudging me to dig into my pockets and buy this innocent kid lunch.At least some real lunch,a luhya one,with Ugali as the main course.When you are the child of a mad woman,guardian angels seem to be in plenty. As I was still processing what I could do for him,a tall guy,with skin darker than darkness,called him.That is how I knew his name.
The dark skinned guy had a backpack full of goodies for the kid.He reached into that bag and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, two queen cakes and then handed it to Jose.He then proceeded to pull out a clothbag full of a boys clothes.
He had a pair of gumboots in there too.He hands them to Jose.All this while, the mother is seated quietly,eating one of the queencakes that was gifted to Jose while critically analysing this situation. At least from the look of things.He then asks him to try on the  gumboots. That is where the drama ensues.
The mama grabs the clothbag and tosses it back to the dark skinned guy.She removes the pair of gumboots from Jose’s feet.The boy’s little feet kiss the bare ground once more after a nutshell of what may seem to have been liberation for him.She pulls off the jacket Jose had tried on from his body and threw them back to the stranger.

I am perplexed by her action.This woman just accepted a bottle of juice and queencakes gleefully from this perfect stranger, but she cannot allow her kid to be helped out with clothes? I wonder whether that is the threshold between sanity and insanity.Maybe food is the only common denominator between the sane and the mad,who knows?She says she will personally buy Jose clothes. And she didn’t need any help in clothing her baby.

However,it is not like she was doing a great job dressing the kid. As it happens,the clouds were about to deliver rain. And the rains in Kitale are a special kind of rain,the kind you never want to cross paths with,unless you are farmer of course.The kid only had on him a sweatshirt.The dark guy says he had brought the kid those clothes because the previous week,he found him shivering in the rain by the  side of his mother who seemed to care less about the situation.
The lady stood her ground.The only sort of help she seemed to need was food.But we can’t blame her,who doesn’t need food and besides, she is not in her right state of mind.We tried to come in to the rescue and put in a word to persuade her to accept the cloth offering.That is some sane people against an insane one,it seems the insane one won the battle.Our plea fell on deaf ears.
The poor dark skinned guy,now,he had to carry this clothbag full of baby clothes back to where he found them.He left cursing out on the mad one,at one point,he hinted of hijacking Jose and taking him to Kisumu or something. I could feel for the man.No one wants his generous charity to be turned down especially by the mother of a needy kid.But at least he is evidence of the beautiful side of humanity,he is an epicentre of selflessness and goodness.Truly,a good man he was.
It is that revelation that made me see the danger Jose is in.It is fun to be the son of a mad woman.But that its only magical when you are a kid, because you don’t get spanked for wetting your pants or dirtying your clothes.You don’t get to go to school and get whipped by those tough teachers on duty for reporting late.You get to play however,wherever and whenever you want.You play with anyone and anything you like.You are at liberty to do whatever your childish heart desires.The perfect dream for any child.
But I am staring 10 years into the future and asking myself what the fate of this innocent kid will be.Will he still be by the side of his Insane mother, still being cuddled like a baby?Will he have gone to school and maybe get to meet a girl there or something?Will he kick a football with the rest of the boys like we did?Will he end up making a home in the streets?What is to become of your future my dear Jose?What are we to do in order to get you out of this obscurity my beautiful boy?God what are we to do about him?We are only human,we can only do what is humanly possible,but meanwhile send your angels to watch over him Lord.





One of my goals  this year was to go get checked out by a doctor to make sure I am safe from prostate cancer. Maybe, safe is not the word to use in this context, let’s just say my mission was to find out my prostates health. Just to make sure he is fairing on well.Or, if he is not doing fine, at least find a remedy for any inconsistencies found by those cancer specialists whose speciality name I may not know. But I think they are called Oncologists, or something close to that. Of course I had googled it earlier, but man forgets often.

I may also have come across some prostate cancer statistics in a magazine’s medical column and the figures really spoke volumes to me. Most men in this generation have succumbed to this ailment. One of them happened to be a person closely related to me. And so I was weary of this dreadful disease. Early diagnosis of prostate cancer may be the best remedy.  So you now understand why getting a prostate cancer diagnosis was top on my ‘’to do’’ list in 2018.

However, thorough google searches hinted me of the diagnostic procedures of prostate cancer. I must say, any man in his rightful state of mind would be very cautious of signing up for that procedure. It is written, that is on some web page in google not the bible that the doctor has to insert his fingers in one’s rectum, in order to assess the health of the prostate. At least that is the basic procedure used for prostate cancer diagnosis to the best of my understanding with information from google.

My only problem with that procedure though, is that being an African man, I am not so comfortable with someone inserting his fingers in my behinds, especially when the doctor conducting the procedure is a man. Ooh, that would be a total turn off for me. If the good doctor is a lady, then that would make the situation a little bit bearable. Currently, I am still struggling with the decision to finally visit a doctor for diagnosis. But at least I have some information of what may conspire in the doctor’s room. Although it is information sourced from google. I cannot hold a candle to how credible information from google is.

Like me, most of you have found yourselves in situations where you need medical information that may help you make critical decisions in your health life. However, with the advent of the internet and e-medicine platforms, one may just be overwhelmed by the overload of information available online. Of course, sorting this information may be an uphill task for you because you are not a trained medical doctor. And the strong language used to describe some diseases online may as well be more dangerous to you than the disease itself.

This limits our choices of where, how and when we are supposed to access quality and useful medical information. Because at the centre of our well-being is health. Visiting a trained medical consultant is the only other best course of action left. But this is Africa; very few people here can afford to pay exorbitant consultation fees required by expert doctors. In most cases, majority of the African population can barely afford meagre medical fees required in public hospitals. This brings us to a dilemma and a very serious one for that matter. How can one access medical information and services conveniently?

A friend of mine was doing very well in life. His son had just graduated from college with a degree. His career was at its climax. His family was doing so well. Life was just beautiful for him. He was full of life and always wearing a smile anywhere he went. You could feel the energy flowing out of him. The man was always jovial until when a simple health complication sent him to a doctor one day. The doctor told him three words that no man wants to here in their lifetime, ”You Have Cancer.” These three simple words, stole the life out this jovial person I knew.

The smiles quickly faded off his face; there was no more laughter around him. He all of a sudden became sulky and moody. He spent most of his time closed away in his room not talking to anyone. As if he was waiting for his death. As fate would have it, I happened to know a community of cancer survivors. I introduced him to this community. He found hope in the people there. Through a series of meet ups, consultations and encouragements, he was able to improve in health.

He found hope in the community; he found a promise of triumph against the cancer in his body through the community. He was given tips and procedures on how to overcome the disease. With time, the smile came back to his face. The laughter found its way around him, even though it was tough, the community was there to answer any questions he had. They had walked that journey, they understood that path, and they had lived the nightmare and came out of it just fine. Sometimes, the best medicine is the promise of hope we can get from people who have suffered in the same way as us.

It is with that in mind that I am working  to create a web platform that would create communities of people with similar medical needs and attention. I chose to give the platform an indigenous name,I will call it AFYA POA. This platform will create a virtual space for people with similar medical conditions to interact and find out the best course of action for their conditions. The aim of the platform is to primarily connect people so that they can share their experiences and encourage each other during the tough times of ailment. Think of it as a facebook for people with similar medical needs.

The mobile application and the web platform would create a space for people to share their experiences. For instance, proposed treatment through lifestyle change, fitness routines, healthy diet, and meditation and so on. It would also connect patients to virtual doctors who would be able to offer digital diagnostics online. On the same platform, there will be an online store for one to order exotic foods that are healthy for patients and are not found in the local markets. The store could also connect patients to drugs, prescriptions, medical equipment and services not available locally. This social medical community, of doctors, patients, dieticians and medical practitioners is the future of medicine and the hope for the people of Africa.Afya poa,is the genesis of the medical revolution.






This is what my New Shaman Friend had to Say about me.I must admit most of it is true.



“Someone must have told people along the way,that life was going to be really easy,well,I got a special announcement for people who believed it.The truth is that, they lied.” LES BROWN.

Life is hard,its really really hard.That is the bare reality.The earlier you acquaint yourself to this fact,the better placed you are to tackle the countless challenges of  life.But don’t believe me just yet,don’t take my word for it.What do I know about life?

His business got burnt down to the ground while he was asleep.My friend Elias runs a small photocopy and computer services shop in town.He spent his Sunday like the rest of us did,or so I think.The usual Sunday routine,you are up early in the morning,probably do some cleaning then put on your Sunday best and ghost off to church to pump a little bit of Godliness into your otherwise darkened soul.After the mass,he might have crushed on a girl he has been following in the village,he might have struck a conversation that saw him disclose his endevours.He must have mentioned to her that he is a university graduate,who merited with flying colours in Computer Science but due to the unemployment crisis currently locking young graduates like him from the market,he decided to be innovative and enterprising.So he opened this small computer shop in town to horn his Computer science skills.he might have even disclosed the location of the shop in town and urged the beautiful village girl to pop into his place of business anytime she wishes, for both business and pleasure. Whichever  she choose.The lady in return must have been very pleased with this new suitor.I mean early Sunday morning when she had popped into to church,probably prayed about getting a husband,an educated one for that matter,with the ability to provide for her needs.Then here comes her miracle,her answered prayer,my friend Elias.They might have exchanged numbers as usual and agreed to meet in town on Monday morning before she checks  into her job as a supermarket cashier.So Joyce,hurriedly rushes through her morning chores early Monday and she speeds off earlier than she usually does to go meet his knight in shining armour. On arrival at the shop,she finds the building roaring with flames,The yellows tongues of fire were eating up the building,bringing it to its knees.A sudden fear engulfs her being.For a moment,she thinks her dear Elias might be in the buiding.Her intuitive instincts direct her to make a call,she dials his number for the first time.Elias picks up,he is still in bed.Infact the call is what disrupts him from a romantic dream,where she was probably kissing the lady she had met in church.He picks up his phone to find her calling,talk about dreams coming true.He thinks to himself,this has to be possibly the best Monday of the week.But when she informs him of the fire that is ravaging his place of business,he realizes there could be nothing great about that day…..

He lost a son he had been praying for,for ten years.When my friend Tim got a call from his wife that she was expectant,he was on his way to China for a seminar organized by the Council of Governors.He had just stepped out of a yellow cab that had dropped him off to the Airport.It was his first trip abroad,he was so thrilled about it.All the internetters and his facebook friends had gotten wind of his maiden trip.They thought him a very lucky guy.A good job,a beautiful wife,a covetable colloquial house and one hell of a sporty car that noisily announced his grand entrance into the estate when he came back from work.As they were all hyped up waiting for him to go and come back with selfies and goddies from China land,what they didn’t know was that he was struggling with the reality of not being able to sire a child.They had tried all sorts of remedy, including traditional medicine and  herbalist doctors.This is because there fertility doctor had crushed all hopes of them ever buying baby shoes and those small adorable baby clothing.So when she called saying she was pregnant,it was not only a middle finger to the discouraging fertility doctor but also a miracle in itself,one may even term it an immaculate conception.So he knew his miracle was not in china land but in his homelands,of course he cancelled his maiden trip and rushed back home to bask in the glory of finally being a real man,a true African man because siring children is the benchmark of true African manhood.Months later they would welcome into the world a bouncing baby boy.They chose to call him Emmanuel because of the Godly circumstances that surrounded his conception.Only for a househelp to kill the boy almost two months after his birth while forcefully feeding him hot porridge to him…..

Before he broke his leg,he was an exceptional footballer.He was a god in the football pitch.A prodigy player with five star ratings.We knew this because young kids admired and imitated his moves.The old folks would call him Pele.They nicknamed him after the amazing Brazilian football maestro who secured his place in the books of history when it came to matters football.You must agree that he was an extremely talented youngster for him to earn that coveted nickname in high school.Men traveled from ten villages away,some from five rivers away and others had to ascend hills if not mountains to come witness this young one scoring goals for his high school.He wanted to go pro,probably play for Arsenal later on in the English premier league.By the look of things,his dreams were not wild at all.He had the talent and the skills to play in some of the world’s best football extravaganzas.He had the blessings of his coaches,his fellow players and his ever supportive fans.But on one fateful day,as they were travelling from Rwanda,after they had won the East African Secondary School ball games,his dreams would meet a sudden,tragic end.The bus they were travelling in lost control,they veered off from the road and rolled down from a high steep slope.The bus plunged into a river at the foot of the hills.Luckily for them no one died.That was the miracle.However,our prodigy soccer player lost both his legs.And that is how he kissed his hall of fame goodbye…..

Like my friends,most of us are going through treacherous times in life.Some of you have lost jobs,others have found themselves in the wrong jobs.Some have been orphaned and widowed at relatively young ages.Others have found themselves in abusive relationships and marriages while others feel like they are surrounded with a clout of death.The reality is all of us have got a struggle we are dealing with in life.An obstacle that stands in our way and seems to make life distasteful and unbearable. Sometimes,life will throw at you very unmanageable hardships.Sometimes they come in ones while other times the troubles comes in two’s.

But that is the staff that life is made up off. It is what makes life.However,the silver lining is that when one overcomes these hardships that life throws at us,there is beauty awaiting for us at the end of it all.The universe seems to fall in love with people who persevere.It truly appreciates People who don’t give up despite hardships and trials of life.So when life throws lemons at you be brave enough to make lemonade out of it.When you feel stuck,be patient enough to know that someday growth will come your way.Its never always all bad.Sometimes the good stretches will follow.That is why they say life is a series of ups and downs.When you feel like your life has been transformed into a dark pit of troubles and tribulation,when it seems like a vortex of hell is slowly whirling around you,gather the strength to climb out of that hell,albeit one inch at a time…



One of the most beautiful cars automotive engineers have made is called a Bugatti Veyron.I haven’t set my eyes on one of these cars yet because I live in Africa and we are still figuring out how to feed our poor masses,so seeing a one million dollars car this sides is something rare.If you are still wondering about that exorbitant price tag,let me also care to remind you that it translates to a whooping one hundred million plus Kenya shillings.This is the point where typical Africans like myself would be asking themselves,Why the hell on earth would someone splash all that cash on a car?

Let’s say you are a car enthusiast,and you are already psyched up because you think I am about to dive into the details of that car,perhaps tell you more about its horse power,its engine and fuel consumption,I am sorry to break your heart but cars are not my area of specialization(Unless they are Bugatti’s of course.)But stick with me for a moment because I am about to bring into the picture an even more interesting subject.Lets talk about women,because after all,women and beautiful cars easily complement each  other. Wouldn’t you agree?

If I gave you a million dollars under the condition that you were to buy a Bugatti,I am so sure you would be among the happiest lot of men left in the world.And believe me, there exists a very tiny percentage of happy humans because this thing called life is not necessarily here to put a smile on your face.On the contrary, life is here to kick you so hard in your butt.Now that you have your buggatti and an ear to ear smile on your big face,lets assume your wife was not so happy with your decision to buy such an expensive car because you didn’t tell her it was a gift from me.So she assumed you bought the car from your daughter Sally’s (Sally is still in class one) University savings.

Women being women,she gets psychotic and mad all of a sudden and she decides to hammer down the car’s windshield which costs approximately fifty thousand US dollars just to make a point.As though that is not enough,she goes and fetches some leftover paint from the store that you used for last year’s Christmas decoration and smears it mercilessly over the amazing hundred thousand US dollar paint job on the Bugatti.You come back home from work in your humble Toyota Vitz because you couldn’t afford to fuel the Bugatti even though you just pocketed your salary the previous day.Your manly instincts tells you to go greet the car in the garage first before you say hi to the missus and your little Sally.

The Vitz has been stripped of its honour and it now spends the lonely nights in the chilly cold because the Bugatti stole its home.Since you also knew you couldn’t afford the operational costs of the car,you had found yourself a wealthy jamaa from Kitusuru,probably a Tenderpreneur to hook you up with several millions for the car.So you hurriedly left the bar where you struck a deal with the him(the Tenderpreneur) so that you rush home and take cool pictures of the car then shoot the pictures to him on whatsapp.To your surprise,you enter the garage to find that your amazing,custom made black Bugatti had been turned into a zebra by the white paint your wife smeared on it.You can even see her fingerprints visibly marked on the paint

She even wrote you are very cool message on the side of the car(BUGGATTI-you have to specify,because such a car cannot be simply referred to as a car) using the white paint,the message read something close to this;“YOU ARE SPENDING NIGHT ON THE COUCH”…..Oops,sorry about that folks,the CAPSLOCK key got stuck. You think her silly because your cheap mind-set tells you that the paintjob is something that can easily be fixed by the juakali boys who work on your Ka-Vitz.But you open your mouth wide in amusement when you realise the windshield has been broken into a billion pieces. This is the part where your African instincts kick in,you remember your grandfather’s advice and his ancestors before him,that as a married man you have to be stern in your household.So you gather all the little strength left in your muscles especially your vocal muscles and you yell….”NJERI NITAKUMALIZA LEO,AKI UNARUDI KWENU.”…something is wrong with my CAPSLOCK comrades.

You enter the house,under all that anger and frustration you wrestle your wife down.You deal her some serious Undertaker WWE championship blows because you have been wanting to do that for a very,very long time and today happened to be that day.After the usual three taps,by the referee,who in this instance is your little Sally,you find some shred of humanity in your heart and you let her be. After allits just a Bugatti right???

You then decide to pick up your phone and call me.You narrate all the drama that ensued and ask me whether I could help you tow the car to the nearest JuaKali mechanic the following day for some repairs.This is the part where I break your heart even more.I tell you,”Bro,you know the thing about Bugattis is that,all repairs have to be made in there authorized workshops,if you are serious about repairing it,we would have to call the company’s agents who would come and ship the car to Europe for repairs in there warehouse.’’Then the phone hangs up because you are both in shock and out of credit.The polite safaricom lady is now busy reminding you to either redeem Bonga points or OkoaJahazi.At this point,you wonder how things could get so sour for you and you decide to slap your already weeping wife the last one.Youknow,one for the road.

Since I don’t advocate for violence against women,we can say the Bugatti story is bull**t.But for a moment,assume that the Bugatti was a woman,the windshield was a woman’s breasts and the Bugatti’s paintjob was a woman’s skin.The engineer who made the Bugatti is God,and the warehouse where this bugatti’s are repaired was heaven.And the wife is a plastic sergeon.When you sum all these assumptions together,any bright mind would quickly formulate the following hypothesis.

God created a woman so beautifully,the same way the engineer created and designed his Bugattimodel.So precious and valuable you are as a woman that God attached a very hefty price tag to you because he spent his precious time,resouces and skills in moulding you into that amazing masterpiece of a woman that you are.He even painted you black because in his wisdom  God knew that black would be a colour that beautifies you and makes you so much covetable.He then gifted you with amazing breasts on your chests because God knew someday your breast would feed a future baby.The same way an engineer fits windshields in the front of the Bugatti so that the driver can see what happens in front of the car.

Thewife,who is the plastic surgeon,painted the black Bugatti with white colour because she was used to the colour of their cheap vitz.Same way some women decide to mess up there amazingly wonderful melanin by applying some skin lightening comestics.They then go ahead to resize the sizes of their breasts and buttocks because they think the bigger these sexual organs are the more beautiful they are.In the processes of surgery they end up messing  there organs just the same way the wife broke the Bugatti’s windshield.Soon they have to be shipped back to some specialized warehouse for repair but since they are not cars like the Bugatti,sometimes they face the ultimate fate,death.You don’t mess up with an engineer’s work if you didn’t help create the designs.So they go to meet the creator in heaven.And for what?Just because you needed bigger buttocks.So when I heard the sad story of the late…………….may her soul rest in peace,I was so disheartened.And I couldn’t stop but wonder,why would you want to be a Toyota vitz when you were made a Bugatti.