UHURU KENYATTA,,,the "Two Chainz President...

The Chronicles today takes a twist as i outline some of the observations your favorite blogger has made over the leadership of his Excellency President Kenyatta II...

Mr. President i mean no insults but i do respect you so much; however, I wish my parents told me this when i was young...

#1. Please son, don't go to campus to study engineering, geo-spatial analysis, actuarial science, medicine, B.com and other scaring courses, just go to a drawing class and learn how to draw Mr. Uhuru Kenyatta and your life would never be the same again..

#2 Do not waste your time cramming lines for an entire play, a 40 pages script to go an compete on the always "unfair" Kenya National Drama Festivals, just write a 3 paragraph poem and recite it to Uhuru, and the State House could be my hang out joint

#3 Son, stop hanging around River Road and Mfangano streets, instead be hovering around State House Road and you might board the same Matatu and take a selfie with our beloved uhunye

#4 Another important thing to note, talk ill about the opposition vehemently, and you will become an M.P of your area without elections, "unopposed."

#4.5 Join NYS, and you could be appearing on the same advert with the most powerful person in 254

#5 Other than Mr. President's tales, this would help you son, Become a blogger, post nude pictures on your blog with such weird titles "The Most Ratchet photos from your fav socialite" or else write about how UK denied you a visa to see River Thames, and the UK ambassador will tweet you with an invitation to his suburb in Gigiri

#6 Without forgetting, my son become a miraculous pastor, perform miracles in exchange of "Mbegu" and you could drive a Range Rover worth 7 million

#7 Lastly, become a radio co-host without any academic qualification, talk nonsense the entire show and you will earn more than the other qualified radio host

Because my parents did not tell me this, I am just a spectator ion of other successful young men. Please Uhuru Kenyatta, take time to read the chronicles of a fresha and may be we can take a selfie together...
i am looking forward to...
still waiting...

loading...

buffering...

Yours Spectatingly,
Vinniewatz Murimi

MY DRESS MY CHOICE,,,1 2 3 and the Demonstration begins...

THE CHRONICLES OF A FRESHA CONTINUES

The first commandment that you shall never forget during a strike in Kenya is..
Thy shall interact with tear gas anytime after the strike begins....Bearing this in mind, bottles of water and wet handkerchiefs were in plenty,,,zilikuwa #wellewelle before polisi watuimbie #nyongwa

I don't know how police receive news that an institution is going on strike because they were already on location, armed to the teeth. To calm the anxiety, the chairman assured us that it would be a peaceful demonstration and he will not allow any police officer to engage a student into running battles (i wondered whether he was the commander in chief or inspector general). This was enough conviction for the students to start the "peaceful" demonstration.

"vinnie shika hizi vitu mbebe na mueke vizuri zionekane," one of the student leaders blurted placing a bunch of placards on my hands. They were extremely heavy and they carried a strong message that my fellow freshas and I were to carry along. first things first, we removed the school flag, burnt it but we did not touch the Kenyan flag because it is a symbol of sovereignty (to be sincere i don't know what the word means i just over hear it with politicians, especially the guy who goes to ICC as a private citizen). After this was done, we matched to the streets and the freshas carrying the placards were paraded on the front line with the full glare of the media. When i said i have never appeared on TV i lied, this day i received live coverage from the biggest media companies in Kenya; however, i was dressed in such a way that eradicated my recognition permanently.

Within five minutes of our appearance, businesses started closing, matatus and other private cars started clearing the road. That is when i realized it was a serious thing. Imagine closing businesses at Haile Sallasie Road. wait a minute, do you know the kind of businesses that operate on this road? Time towers that houses KRA, Central Bank of Kenya, Railways Corporation, Several commercial banks and other major businesses were all closing down. Organizations that are manned by a hoard number of security officers and tight surveillance.

Chaos were starting and tension was skyrocketing as white smoke started uprising bringing a stampede all over. A fresha is still a fresha with behavior of a mono. This is because i got engulfed in the comrade power thing and started undressing, revealing my identity. It was fun seeing police throw  tear gas canisters as hockey players would hit it back with the hockey sticks and it would get back to the police. Gor Mahia and AFC fans were very experienced at this game as they carried buckets of water where they would dip the teargas canister until it became docile. One thing that amused me is that the haille salasie road is tarmacked but i could see stones flying over like Taliban missiles. For Kiambu students, it was business as usual as they hawked water bottles to people who could not handle the tear gas. Surprisingly, they had low-flat shoes that they sold to ladies since they could not run with heels and tight up skirts. My western friends were struggling with the open food kiosk to scramble for the available food. "Amerucans' or Vaites and kisii were busy unleashing their tempers by harassing by-passers and motorists. Coast students were still preparing to start the show as their north-eastern counter parts spat on everyone at sight. All in all everyone was doing something totally wrong.


GSU and Anti-Riot police were just speculating the drama from a safer distance all that long. It was their time to enter and substitute the weak regular police. It was not fun anymore, it was drama, this when the comrade power started experiencing blackout. They came with a huge green lorry that dispatched them at various corners. There was another lorry that carried water with a huge pipe and it was splashing the water heavily. With my fresha mind, i thought this was a relieve as i run towards the lorry to get washed and refresh. I can tell you I was really stupid, the water was itchy, i scratched my body so rough that i could not move. Every part of the body was itching and around 15 police were pursuing me at higher speed than NFS. They were lifting their heavy rungus, whips and muzzle guns. I wondered whether to scratch my body, run away or just wake up from the horrendous dream. I thought our chairman had said that police wont hurt us.

I was motivated to run when i saw another lady who was in a mini-skirt pass me at a supersonic speed. Before i made my mind, one police managed to reach my back with his whip. I automatically accelerated and i guess i was moving at a speed of 30km/hr. The situation was getting bad as i could see ladies cry as police beat them mercilessly. Men were not spared as they received kicks and blows as they were being carried into the police lorry like ragged clothes. This was the moment that TV reporters were looking for news items as i intermingled with them as they flanked my face with their huge cameras. My oh my, the situation was getting worse as my shoes got lost, my shirt was torn and the entire body was in pain. The least i needed was to stop running because police were everywhere. Lucky enough, I managed to enter the railway station by jumping over the fence. The police at the station did not notice as they were busy calming the situation. I sat at an isolated corner waiting for the evening train patiently as i feared everybody would turn me in.

Demonstrations are not good, but they are unavoidable. One lesson though, do not strike blindly, know the cause and the consequence first. The Chronicles of a Fresha is out.





  

MY DRESS MY CHOICE.. The Chronicles of a fresha

If you live in planet earth, i suppose by now you know the horrendous scenario that happened in Nairobi and Mombasa CBDs. In case you live in planet Mars, let me delineate the gossip to you in the most appropriate avenue, The Chronicles of a fRESHA style.

Two well dressed ladies were stripped off their clothes in two incidences in Nairobi and Mombasa respectively, even in Kayole just yesterday. The ugly scenes irked Kenyan women leading to the #mydressmychoice campaign that has gone viral attracting attention from western media. You all know that me and ladies are two parallel lines that do not come into terms. However, today you have my support, and i repeat, TODAY only. We thought Nairobi has the most open minded and swagged up individuals in the country. But it seems there are those who have persistently refused to leaved the raccoon of ignorant people. Suppose the undressed woman was your mother...and here is when i quote Adan Duale "hizo nguo si za mama yako buana."

That incidence has just reminded me of various demonstrations that happened in university and i was privileged to be part of "several" of them. However, the most significant strike happened when i was one month old in campus. My friend, it was disastrous, cataclysmic, ruinous, catastrophic, barbaric, contemptuous, and other tough words that Babu Owino uses when appearing on press appealing for a university strike.

My life is characterized with unfortunate incidences and hapless, miserable experiences. My education life is not an exception. I have attended schools where survival for the fittest applies from morning till dusk. Kegonge High school where you had to mark your territory to survive. The Kenya Polytechnic University College was the icing on the cake. As the name suggests, the school is not sure whether it is an university, college, polytechnic, free education, D.E.B or just a collection of rowdy guys. However, it has the best experience in the world both academically and in social context.

In university, i expected to see strike notifications on the toilet walls and leaflets like we did in high school. Owe unto me when i learnt that in campus, a strike is announced publicly without fear or intimidation. That was a new one to me. To be frank, i was very scared because i thought that was equivalent to throwing stones at a police station. It was quite different from high school since students were making threats to the administration right on their noses.  

Comrade Power,,, you respond power! with a lot of energy. The date was set and everything was ready to set the pace and match to the HELB offices. But before the story, here were the grievances that instigated our much awaited strike.

1. HELB was late (i have never been entitled to this loan and i have demonstrated the entire campus life for Helb which i dont recieve, ati comrade power)

2. The announced Mrs. Campus was not beautiful

3. Food prices were very high at the school canteen (i thought food issues ended in high school, i was wrong because even at my place of work food is a very big issue)

4. Campus elections were delayed (Politics will once kill Africans)

5. misappropriation of funds (to date i have never understood how i accused people of misappropriating funds without a single evidence or proof, just following what others said, peer pressure i bet)

6. for the fun of striking

The grievances were enough to substantiate a reason for taking to the streets and show the world that we are tough living things. There was room for adding your personal grievance; for example, there was a lady lecturer who annoyed me for wearing so skimpy and she spent half of the class applying oil on her skin and lipstick. I was very much excited that i was going to engage in a strike at a higher level. We usually called them educated-call of actions by the most educated members of the society (I am sorry to learn that we are not).

It was a sunny morning and the required pysch, morale, energy and attitude towards demonstration was smelt from far. Everybody was in the mood and the student union members were giving instructions as the media people flocked the school environs. I remembered that my parents occasionally watch TV News at a local hotel and they might bump with their son misbehavior. That is when i decided to camouflage and wear in such a way that i remained unnoticeable.

We were ready to hit the road...
To be continued tomorrow..

SOMEONE TELL SAFARICOM TO BAN FREE SMS...The Chronicles of a Fresha

Free Sms are tarnishing our intelligence making us look like clowns or mascots who have nothing to do, but to stare at their phones as if they are worshiping them. I find it funny how i seat with an extremely beautiful lady who can qualify to become Miss Uganda for nine consecutive years and i have nothing to say to her, even a simple hi. Reasons being, she is busy, not that she is washing utensils, completing assignments, arranging her work schedule or anything substantial, but staring at her phone like a nincompoop. When i talk of Sms i also include Watsapp, Viber, and the others. Please Note: they are not bad, the users are...

Today there no stories but real life observations that i have made (the free Sms were not introduced when i was a fresha one Sms costed 3 bob, so you can imagine). Technology has made us strangers because we are using it wrong, actually very wrong. Take this incidence for example, my cousin comes to visit all the way from upcountry, after ushering him in the house, i pick my laptop and my phone then go numb, it is a bad behavior.

When i said no stories, I lied! My friend has left our ribs aching by an incidence that made him jilt his relationship and hate all girls, huh. "Guys, guys look look at her see for yourself, she Watsapped me her image", he jabbed at us interrupting our tranquil moment on the torn second-hand sofas in our congested unfinished 1 bedroom in Roysambu with a parked blue Subaru outside (that is how Njoki Chege defines poor guys, for me i wish i would achieve this and my village would name as Njuri Ncheke member). If you don't follow Nairobi rumors, probably that joke isn't yours.

We tilted our faces concurrently as if we were evading a foul smell of fart from a skunk, to see the "magnificent girl." It is hard for me to appreciate girls, but for this one, she was blessed. We continued working on our laptops and exchanging mature talks of how one day we will buy a plot at Ruai (even wet dreams are valid). All that long our friend was tilted like a bow or the fishing rod just scrolling and replying to messages on his phone. it continued for hours, days, weeks,,, until he entered the, the most populated country after China and India, friend-zone. This is how...

Sms and Watsapp lie, a girl will promise you anything, create a scenario that will make you feel like you are the only man in a world of beautiful women and dogs. Ladies will pretend to be in your "box" by pampering you with sweat, romantic and sexy words, i hear they call it "sexting." For my friend, he was even given the cookie jar via text, they kissed, they cuddled, they undressed, they bedded, they visited each other's parents; however, through the texts. The relationship was growing strong that he could mistake my name with that girls name you know Vinnie and Winnie are related. His phone never left his hand even when he went to the bathroom, but he always told us when that girl will visit our lips will soak with saliva. We will be so jelous that we wish we concetrated on smsand watsapp than our work (what a fool).

"hayawi hayawi huwa" it was time for the love birds to meet physically, eye to eye, lip to lip, nail to nail, time to panda mbegu until potassium permanganate turns red, if you know what i mean. Feeling of ecstasy, mind preparations, spreading the bed and cleaning the house, preparing mayai for the requisite energy and going to the chemist to purchase the protective gear for this business, awaiting the guest of honor to arrive at around midday.

First mistake, she arrived at three, second mistake she was full and could not take what the guy had prepared. Ladies what do you take us for, for a man to cook it takes inspiration from the ancestors and then you shamelessly refuse to eat, God help you. She was introduced to the lonely ninjas as we were just sitting there salivating at her endorsed derriere. As ussual, we started leaving so that we can give them privacy, but she said "acheni kuenda natoka sa hii and if at all ningekaa hakuna kitu ingehapen so rudini." Let me stop at that...


free sms are promising you the moon up in the sky whereas they cant afford Bluemoon which is only at the counter. My fellow freshas, this is real, run boy run when there is time.  








 

I AM APPEARING IN A SONG VIDEO....The Chronicles of a fresha continues

You have ever wished in your life to appear on TV even if its just a snippet view once. Everybody loves fame, attention, and a little pride, we are human beings. I have occasionally seen people who make me watch a song/advert or just a video recording repeatedly so that i can see them. The situation is always like..."peleka mbele kidogo,,aa umepita, rewind kiasi, tena kidogo,,apo apo apo pause..unaona huyo mtu ako na T-shirt ya blue uko nyuma...sasa nyuma yake ni mimi." its stressing even to identify them but they have to insist that you re-watch until you see them. I won't blame you coz i am a victim. However, i saw my friend on Jicho Pevu #TheKanyariSaga but she has refused to admit that she is the one up to now.

"Vinnie, get ready because i am shooting a video for my song and i want you to appear on it, wee ni mtu wangu siezi kusahau," my fresha friend said bragging-ly. These were the best news, it was like receiving blessing from Pastor Kanyari without the Mbegu ya 310 or an M-Pesa of 5,000 from an unknown number. After the anxiety replenished, i went back to my friend and asked. "ati umesema tunashoot vida" he replied positively but i was not through with him. "sasa nikumaanisha nitakua kwa video yako, az in ukishoot video nitakua, hio ni kumaanisha nitatokea kwa TV," one question in a million styles. He got bored by the rhetoric questions just like you and you are only reading.

The next step involved preparation for the big party, bragging to my friends on how i will appear on TV soon. If twitter was alive, hashtag #vinnieakokwavideo could be trending, but it only made it on my Facebook updates. Everyone became envious, you know freshaz think a celebrity is a person from another planet. That is why we could meet a Tahidi High actor on the street and stand for a whole hour discussing him or her, loudly. They are human beings just like us, acting is their employment just like mjengo is to me.  We could admire them and even update our Facebook status, "hanging out with Eric Omondi" and you did not even manage to say hi. This behavior sucks, let celebs live their lives just like normal people.

The cast members were ready, i had chosen the right outfit for my celebrity inaugural day. TV here i come, this video will be the talk of the town, i would soon be on everybody's lips. Oh God, you would think i was the composer or the artist of the song. Plans went on well and by ten in the morning we were on location. Cameras were set, the production team was ready, and the anxiety even grew bigger.

However, i smelled a rat, something was not very right, maybe left. The hotel was so cozy and resembled a bossy lifestyle. I thought drinks and food were catered for i even came from the hostel empty stomach. My friend never try that, i staid hungry for 7 hours. Secondly, the producer had come with another crew that seemed stylish and camera friendly than we looked. I hear they are called video vixens. That did not worry me much, after all the artist "ni mtu wangu."

We did what had brought us, and lights were on, cameras rolling, music flowing and change of clothes every now and then, i had only carried a pair, so i could not change. One thing that bored mi is the repetition of scenes, Cut, cut, action, no take another shot, Gosh they were boring why cant they just take one song in 30 minutes and leave. After all, a song lasts only 3 minutes. All in all the day was over.


The following day i was already asking my fresha-artist whether the video was out. Gosh its only a day, he replied angrily. This was a daily routine for at least two months, my hopes died. But when they were about to be buried, the producer called him with good news, my hopes resurrected before their burial. We rushed to town to pick the song, no more classes today, but showing people the video. Unfortunately, we reviewed the song around 15 times without a sneak view of Vinnie in the video. I was edited, the video vixens took almost the entire show, but i could see the color of my shirt in a scene that shown a large crew of people from far. I could not believe i wasted my class time rehearsing on how to appear on a video in vain. I cant stop crying, but my dreams are still valid. If you continue reading my stories on my blog vinniewatz.blogspot.com, i will appear on the Trend

TULIANZA NA KASELFIE

I just cannot believe i am up this  late updating my blog that receives very many visitors or traffic which is approximately zero people in total. God give me a sign like DMX. I was also listening to Cha Tolle AFterhours show on Capital, will it ever come to a day that she will listen to me or read my blog. This world is unfair for real....arggg what a dream, i must be dreaming ati Chao reading my blog, what a joke?... sorry my readers i was dozing off, but lets get down to business...

Here is the second part of exam cheating case...i was in deep, hot, and smearing shit, yeah i know its slippery...

A bag on my hand, my answer sheet is missing and the teacher is coming towards my position at a supersonic speed. My heart has beaten many times in desperation moments, but in this case, it was ringing or sounding like an alarm. This teacher had given harsh warning prior to the start of the exam to anybody tempted to use unscrupulous methods of passing exams that severe consequences would follow. He had cautioned us against copying exam and the punishment amounted to cancellation of your exams and ex-communication from the institution. Poor vinnie who was the only college boy in the village, who collected funds for school from the village church, the chief, Chama Cha Wamama in the village, and tax collected by the chief from illegal liquor. Being sent away from school would mean being a disgrace to the entire village that boasted of taking a person to college, you would think they had taken me to the moon. At this moment, the teacher was approaching and his intention were clearly not good. He was a tough teacher to an extent that he did not require an assistance in monitoring the exam.

On the other hand, the lady i was trying to help was in full panic and she was sweating from her thumbs to her tits. Yes i could see her nipples based on the top she was wearing and when men look at ladies those are the first places that receive men's eye-contact. This lady was crazy,,, not even crazy, but mad, absolutely out of her mind. Imagine she was handing the answer sheet back in the full glare of the lecturer. Have you ever heard the reggae song that says, from a frying pan into burning fire, okay, that summarizes my situation. I was like meat in the mincer with hungry men and women glaring at it. The entire class went numb. I know they were sympathizing with me other than one guy i had his debt of 500 Kshs (i have never paid to date). I know he was praying the teacher to catch me, he had crossed his fingers based on the look on his grin.. did his prayers work..?imagine yes

"Just come with your bag with a good explanation why you are exchanging papers with this lady, and in possession of other materials in the exam room, immediately," the teacher said angrily. Now I am the sacrificial lamb, being crucified for my kind heart of helping. The beatitudes in the Bible says the kind in heart will...will..aaa forget it, whatever. I cannot imagine my education was ending just because i took a risk for a lazy person who never revised for exams and attended classes.  

MMMHHH being a drama student really helps because your intelligence is way above than that of Michael Gishangi. "Teacher, the bag fell from where it was hang, hit me, and i was returning it back. in the process, my answer sheet slid and now this lady was returning it back, teacher this is bag belongs to a lady, what the hell could be doing with it," i convinced him. Contented with my argument, the teacher turned back and continued supervising the exam..niliponea chupi chupi...did my friend's prayer work...imagine yes they did not (that is what i meant)

TULIANZA NA KA-SELFIE,, Fresha

By the way when i was a fresha, selfies were not invented; actually, very few phones had strong cameras. The one hit wonder phone idiot oops IDEOS had been introduced to the market and you could only afford it after receiving HELB, but ours had delayed (you see why demonstration over the loan wont end). Believe you me, men we are the same idiots that were tricked by Eve in the garden of Eden (if at all you ever came across Christianity in your upbringing). I also hear that they used a woman to capture our hero Dedan Kimathi among other examples you already know. I am also a victim...

During my fresha years, life was not a silver lining or a bed of roses, but a bed of acacia and baobab trees (that can make you imagine the size of the challenges i faced). Without further ogre tales and the hare and hyena stories, dear readers this what happened. 

It was during our first exam in our premiere semester in the higher learning institution. I had prepared adequately, although business students we didn't read much due to the qualitative learning technique. By the way all those guys who said BA (business administration) meant Being Around because you were undertaking engineering courses; shame on you. We are all tarmacking being bracketed in the 40% group of  unemployed people in Kenya. 

The exam atmosphere was filled in the room as students scrambled for strategic seating places so that they can utilize their exam skills, if you know what i mean. I sat near a lady who was completely blank and she was not contemplating what was going on. She looked at me with these dried eyes that were imploring for my help. However, the teacher's eyes were sternly looking at us and i knew i could not help. Within some instance, the teacher rushed out to receive a call. It was an opportune moment to help my neighbor based on the begging eyes; it was exactly one hour since the exam started and she had not jolted anything apart from her name. When i decided to help her, she made such a request that haunts me to date.

"Pass me my bag please i have to remove my notes," she said. This was a crazy idea so i hesitated, but she convinced me; strength of a woman you know. I woke up and stretched to the windows where we hanged our bags as we did our exams. I heard some papers screeching from my background, when i looked backed. The lady had snatched my answer booklet to copy and paste my knowledge. That was robbery without violence of my hard acquired knowledge (just kidding, degree ni harambee lazima watu wasaidiane). The room was silent and i could see my classmate looking at me in a manner that suggested there was looming danger. From the corner of my eye, i could see the teacher jetting back to class and i realized i was in deep shit. I am standing, holding a bag, and my answer sheet is missing. Three clear evidence that amount to cheating, that is a felony in college, it is worse than the Oscar Pistorius case. I knew i was dead,,but i had to act, and act fast...

to be continued...nimesikia usingizi its past midnight...mayne i gotta sleep. 

FRESH"A" in campus

as i walked in
my mind was so fresh
i met the dean
with an appealing breath
i was admitted in
my body was in a good health
my mind passionate
ready to eradicate
poverty in my village
its the first year
fresh in campus


my mind and books
are new parallel lines
reading is off the hook
oh! that lady is fine
in town, there is booze
and new blended wine
my body is growing thin
my mind is becoming stressed
i avoid the dean
with a foul breath
and bad health
its the last year
not fresh in campus

"Chronicles of a fresha" SHE WANTS TO REVENGE GUYS.....

It has been long since i penned down the most intriguing column "Chronicles of Fresha" and here i am again....
bringing you part...part mmh, by the ways what part did we finish with 3, 4, or...part..argh!!! i cant remember. Never mind, just sit down and grab popcorns as you watch this thriller/action/drama movie in the theater of dreams (that is your mind).

Previously on chronicles of a fresha (with that sound of the prison break),,,
 "Babe, what will you take?" she whispered.

"Nothing, i mean i am Ok, i meant wait...mmm i will decide, ok, le..t ,leemmi..arggg.. let me look for an M-pesa outlet to withdraw money i will come." I answered in a confused tone.
That was the last conversation between Mr. poor Vinnie and the little queen who wanted to milk my last coin in the pocket money account. i rushed helter skelter as my wobble legs could carry me to the hostel room (if you wrote good composition in primary school then you know what that means), disconnected my phone, changed my Facebook account and disoriented any possible communication with her.

HOWEVER i had forgotten one fundamental mistake that i made....
I had used my roommates phone to call her another day when my phone run out of credit. Oh Jesus, i had confused myself like the Hague ICC witnesses. She had befriended my roommate without my consent and they were chatting regularly.

My roommate was given a promise that he would be given a taste of the "cookie jar" if at all he allowed her to pay him a visit at the hostel. This was like music to his ears, banging on someone at the comfort your room is the best news you can receive other than the removal of MCAs from the Kenyan government. You remember that i gave you a snippet view of my roommate's appetite on ladies. Any slight knock on the door meant that i would look for a place to hibernate in higher speed than the FAIBA because " tafadhali mteja aliyopiga mlango haji kwangu."


They planned, a well developed framework of visiting the hostel to crush that juice out of the juke box. To walk on Melphis;;;; to have a taste of lemon on the ice tea, to look for a needle in the hay stack. Gosh poor vinnie i wish you knew the story ahead.

"Before i come, is your roommate around" the girl asked, "yea but atajipanga" the boy replied. Ok make sure ata kuwa coz i want to see him." The guy agreed promptly, who cares for the new millennium when promised a whole century.(I learnt about this conversation later after the Afrosinema had already happened)

SHE WANTS TO REVENGE GUYS...

yes that what she wants and i am in the dark. She wants to humiliate, embarrass, and spit on my reputable image that can be printed on his excellency's UK's portrait.

It was around 4.00pm on a Saturday evening . I had already changed, and basked on the peripheral of the basket ball pitch sipping hot coffee cunningly. The pitch faced the gate and you could see any entrant and exit from the hostel. As you usual, i was observing guys bring in girlfriends and others walking theirs out; for me, God knows when i will enjoy such a privilege "cjafanikiwa bado."

Suddenly, my moods changed, i was exasperated with the mirage i had seen. "All in all this cannot be, i confronted myself, but no this is real, she looks familiar, we have met, yea that face, actually i know her." That what went through my mind as she approached, but what was she doing here with my roommate. This was sabotage, highest class of image tarnishing. Within a flash of a second, i had already woken up and hid my face with the cup i was holding and preparing to leave like a certain Mluya friend of mine when he recies a call notifying him that "kaukali kameiva."

Then she scolded at me loudly i think her mouth is made of "beats by Dre".


"Wewe fresha vinnie, vinniewatz murimi (my both names), fresha unado BA simama hapo unahepa wapi, jinga hii ata una aibu." By now everyone knew that she was referring to me, everybody thought i was the courageous guy who will respond with gusto and wash off this shame. Others thought she was joking since everyone referred to me as a joker, "kierere". BUT I am sorry guys i failed you, let me apologize right now, because at that moment i was singing to Willy Paul's one and olny lyrics to all his songs, "Najitia kitanzi, najitia kitanzi", but there was no rope in the vicinity to "enter me kitanzi".

By now the attention had switched to us, and a small crowd was gathering to witness this free cinema.
'wewe ndio naongolesha, what a guy are you, unapeleka mtu date then unahepa kama hujalipa, ulidhani umeenda mbinguni hutai patikana." "i want my money right now nipe na ulipe ile embarrassment ulinipa. you silly brat son of a bi*** . By now she was getting angry and knocking me with her handbag and other boys joining her to "discipline me"."huyu msichana si wa mama yako," another Adan Duale shouted from the crowd. "Mlipe sa hii na kama si sasa, ni sasa hivi." By the way men we are becoming childish and stupid. we are ready to help a lady without understandig the root cause of the scuffle, in a club, on the road, in the supermaket we are ready to pave a way for a woman without questions and knock fellow men out of the way. This is rdidiculous and i cannot do that over my dead body!!!!!! Man up guys, where is the era when a man coughed and women hid under the able. I MISS THAT DEARLY

ANYWAY, the embarrassment was escalating quickly as everybody demanded i explain to that "beautiful lady" why i wronged her. (another secret ladies, men only say your beautiful if they need a favor from you).  I was forced to stand in between a crowd of rowdy, huge guys that demanded i pay back the "poor girl. I had no money at that moment, my only remnant was fare to take me to the foot of Mt. Kenya the E-city and you know how transport escalates during holidays.

I JOINED POLITICS BECAUSE.....

one of the student union aspirants came to the scenario and saw my tribulations. He immediately called the "meeting into order", it was so un-orderly like the MCAs in their assembly. "Why watch  one of the comrade  being stripped in your presence, where is the comradeship that we uphold, how do you expect this freshas to respect you when you sit and watch them being mistreated," he blurted with this vigor of a true leader. He spoke a lot of sense though i deeply knew he was creating a reputation to garner him votes. He branded that "revenge girl" a stranger who had trespassed and threatened to call the school security if she failed to leave immediately. It was now her turn to run helter skelter as i sang "who is laughing now, exponential potential, walitudharau, haha haha haha, who is laughing now." From that day i pledged my vote, loyalty, sycophancy like Duale and Kajwang to this comrade who saved my poor life...

SONKO "sanctions" his daughter

Its one thing to be rich, and another to flaunt your wealth. However, flaunt the wealth that you legally own and have sweated for.

This statement can be well be depicted with the story behind "KEEPING UP WITH THE SONKOSHIANS" or the drama revolving between the Nairobi senator and his daughter. If you have not heard these gossip, the original narrator, AKA the chronicles continues or Vinniewatz will break the information down for you precisely.

Apparently, Saumu, sonko's daughter appeared on a local TV station despising socialites for their cheap publication. The senator's accused Kenyan alleged socialites to be tarnishing the real meaning of the word that refers to people from stable families. They say money can buy anything other than salvation.


Pride comes before a fall; Senator Sonko reiterated by grounding her daughter. He took the keys to the Mercedes Benz and cut her weekly allowance of 60,000 ksh. ouch, a person earns 60 geez for sitting her ass down and looking pretty. Mind you, this person is not paying bills, but Sonko was wise to say that he earned his money through sweaty means; hence, her daughter should not take advantage of the situation.


Pray your dad becomes a senator....

I am wrecked, broken and shaken
I am stressed, weaken and beaten
I am tossed, worn and torn
Made an outcast, i am now a heathen
I am now a reject,my esteem is now hidden
I am wrecked, broken and shaken

handles placed on my way
challenges on my way
people going astray
forcing me away
I am wrecked, broken and shaken

And now i rise up
with this desire
that will sire
much fire
in this empire
and no retire
i am wrecked, broken and shaken

I might be broken, but am not limping
i might be an outcast, but am not leaving
i might be a reject, but not a black-sheep
getting back on my knees, ready to move on

BEING TALKATIVE IS NORMAL

CHRONICLES CONTINUES...

Being talkative is human nature….

Introvert versus extrovert

“kierere” is a informal Swahili word that is used to refer to outgoing and socially imparted people in Kenya. The term is kind archaic and it does not ogre well with some people because they feel it is insulting and disrespectful. There are numerous proverbs and sayings that kill the morale of being a social, outgoing, and gregarious person and they include silence is more eloquent, speak only when it is necessary, you have two ears and one mouth so that you can listen twice and talk once, and still water run deep just to mention a few.

All this is CRAP!!!!!!! And I repeat that is a lot of bull s#^t, disputing how people were born and their constitutional, biological, biblical, social, communal and legal rights of speech is very wrong.

Now all the “kiereres” you can start clapping because I have decided to be your savior, activist, humanitarian, and free state lawyer to speak out your inflictions on your behalf. People always paint us as reckless people, who utter meaningless things and unorganized fellows. As the chairperson of “viereeres” we want to give you “HATERS” a perfect name to refer to us, EXTROVERTS. According to the biggest library under the sun (Wikipedia), extroverts are people with the social tendency of predominantly being concerned with getting gratification outside the self-person. Extroverts enjoy human interaction through being talkative, enthusiastic, assertive, aggressive, and by being energized when around other people. They find comfort around people, we like talking about ourselves to others, we love sharing knowledge and we are more prone to boredom when we are alone. We love being with friends, we do not hide feelings; hence, we are not hypocrites or those fake friends, frenemys.

Due to these facts, many people misjudge us, they talk ill about us in our absence, they point fingers at us when we pass by and we feel infuriated by these gestures. Ladies think we are womanizers because we have the courage to approach everyone; hence, they feel insecure being in our company. Teachers label us as failures who have lost direction and that we always talk trash. I remember going through hell in high school just because I joined Drama club because teachers felt we were failures.

On the other hand, we appreciate introverts, people who enjoy being alone and meditating on their own; people who love tranquility and suave-ambiance environment by themselves. When we poke or joke around you, kindly understand and move on with life. However, we also love this state at some point. Extroverts are not always talking, we need time to read, meditate, be emotional just like everyone, reflect about life, and concentrate on something. I get furious when people always ask me whether am sick any time they find me quiet. The same people, who complain that I am talkative, complain when I am quiet. Extroverts also need silence, they need a moment to pray, and practice yoga among other silence-oriented activities. It is an unfair world, but it is not kind to point fingers before understanding what life entails.

Extroverts make the best characters in the arts industry. We make the best Mcees, actors, rappers, players, best managers, marketers, and family people among many careers. We can adjust to any environment within a microsecond, we are slow to anger, and we do not suffer from psychological pressures and mental imbalance easily. Kierere is a way of life just like any other personality of life entails.

Kindly note; there is another dimension of human personality known as ambiversion. It incorporates both being an extrovert, introvert, and I strongly believe we are all ambiverts it only matters with the degree or the extent. Everyone can be both talkative and quiet but you cannot take one side permanently.  Next time you use those useless proverbs, kindly spare us dirty comments we are forever #teamviereere.

WHY MEN CHEAT "their women with beer"

1000 reasons why beer is better than women...

People say that men live for only three things; money, power and mmm aaa eee and beer. Yes beer and not women; although nowadays Wi-Fi has been included in the list. My dear skirts and trousers wearers allow me to unearth the secret why beer is better than women.

Njoki chege became a celebrity overnight for writing an article about “why men cheat.” Kindly my esteemed readers’ can you make me a celeb after exposing “why men cheat their women with alcohol.”

Chris Brown sang, “These girls aren’t loyal,” for real they are not. They make us endure hell on earth with their masquerading and camouflaged behaviors. I am a living witness, during my years as a campus “fresha”, here comes again the chronicles of a fresha, yea I was in “love” (Oh my God that was not love but using the word love in vain). A woman is yours the moment she is in your vicinity and that is not always the case because she can be chatting with another nigga in your presence. You just wonder how you are talking to a person for two minutes and she replies by a nod without even facing you.

My fresha’s year was full of frustration and I think most of you men go through these issues intrinsically. My purported girlfriend cited love words when we were together, she cuddled on my chest and caressed me publicly. As a result, I fell in love, oops sorry, in infatuation to an extend of bashing away other girls even from sitting close to me to avoid “cheating.” This lady controlled my life, she had to know where I am, with who, doing what, and when I will be back using which matatu. She dictated our chats, if I never replied to her text for two minutes that was a crime equated to poaching or even paying the Anglo-leasing scum. However, if she did not reply mine for even two days, I was not supposed to query or raise an alarm. To add insult to injuries, she kept visiting her cousin who lived in coast, but because I was in love, I never questioned. Later I learnt that she got married there… oops L L.

Am pretty sure a hoard of men experience this bumpy road of relationship though they try to mask their tribulations. You will see a man reluctant to go home after work because he knows the wife is Adolf Hitler. You will buy a whole kilogram of meat and in your plate, you will only be served with a number of bones, mayne you aren’t a dog! Men will burst out loudly in public places such as hotels, matatus, and even clubs and you might think they roar in their houses. Oh, unto you when you discover they are lip sealed in front of their better halves. We are tied in ropes that loosening them is quite impossible. Men if you know this is you please listen to me and do it keenly. We need a dialogue with alcohol; we need a national holiday for celebrating beer and giving back to the society because of the solace beer has offered us.

Ladies and gentlemen, here comes 1000 reasons why beer is better than women…

#1. Beer is never JEALOUS. You can take pilsner today, tusker tomorrow, try Jameson shot on a wedding day and mix with rum and beer will never complain “ati umeniplay.”

#2. Beer is always available, yes always at the counter. Women, gosh, tomorrow am going to salon, Monday shopping, Tuesday I will be sick, Wednesday I will be menstruating…psssh

#3. Beer has a price tag; therefore, you can plan on what to take for a month. On the contrary, women are like oil prices, they keep on fluctuating. Today out, tomorrow shopping, the next days a new weave; guys alcohol prices are manageable compared to women. 

#4. Beer never hides its feelings. Wow, I love this part, women will pretend never to have feelings for you but they have. Beer is very straight, if it is not cool with you, you have to puk it out, period. “kama haikutaki hues make.”

#5. Beer never plays hard to get, if you want a beer, ask your wallet and no more innuendos.

#6. Beer never uses make-ups or skin lightening; it is so natural that you know you are dealing with an original thing. Women, gosh, the person you take to lunch date is completely different from the one you will see after a swimming event. Fake face made up with pencils and crayons, horse’s hair, pigskin for handbags, one million piercing and so forth. 

#7. Beer never controls the remote. Yes, you will watch Nat-geo, Supersport and sci-fi movies comfortably while beer is offering you company. With women, be ready to watch soap operas and Niger movies and she expects you to be jovial discussing Alehandro with her, crap.

#8. Beer never FRIENDZONE the taker, friend zone is the worst man fear. It is a national disaster in the life of men. Beer never allows this to happen to a man, you order for it you have to drink it.

#9. Beer is never moody. I always wonder how women moods function. You can be happy with her for a while, but in the next minute, she has turned to be John Michuki (R.I.P), no nonsense. As for beer, any time is the happy hour.

#10. Beer has no parent-in-laws. Gosh if there something men fear, it is the girl’s parents. They irritate, they judge us for gangster, and they think that they gave us their girls free. Damn, we can do with alcohol alone.

#11. Beer does not contract unwanted pregnancies. You know the traps that every girl sets to her guy. “aki babe niko na boll”, beer simply replies “ipeleke kasarani ama brazil.”

The other 9089 reasons are coming soon. Keep it chronicles of a “fresha” at vinniewatz.blogspot.com

Chronicles of a "Fresha"....

Its NOT simple to order for a condom from the chemist.....

Most of the "fresha's" actions are based on hearsay and not all rumors are necessary correct.

It was this chilly evening that my friends and I decided to unwind by reveling in the city night clubs. For sure the week was quite stuffy, making the body to feel too weak to undertake any further task. It was an examination week and if you had a chance to attend any Kenyan college (excluding the village polytechnics and institutes)  you are aware of the hue and cry that surrounds the exam period. Therefore, a cocktail  of tequila (Kibao Vodka) shots, ice cube (small pieces of lemon), rum (hot water), and a puff of sheesha (sportsman cigarette) would aid in relieving the moods. Kindly note that we only took the drinks shown in brackets, "hiyo ingine ni kujichocha".

We gathered in a group of around 6 confused freshas who had a mutual agenda, to get drunk, period. Since we had staid in Nairobi for a while, we confidently walked to the city center chests up high with the aim of partying hard. Yes, people can party by taking Kibao Vodka or even Napoleon, thank God blue-moon was not invented by then, it sucks. In a few moments, we were comfortably seated in our seats in that stuffed up, congested backstreet wine & spirit pub that carries more people than the Daadab refugee camp. There was hullabaloo in the room as my fellow confused "freshas" jeered with a lot of ecstasy expecting the night to be so stimulating. Actually, our Kibao-tequila-Famous-Grouse Vodka didn't disappoint because within half an hour we were dancing to every tune telling everyone in the club (oops, pub) how we are great university students who will become presidents, engineers, doctors  et cetera after completing school; mind you, up to now i am still jobless (those were fresha's fantasy that died immediately after joining second year).

Eyes started clinging into one another, the focal view changed as objects appeared smaller than usual, the rate of stories and noise skyrocketed like Wajir's temperature. By the time we managed to take at least two 750ml bottles of liquor, or alcohol-meter was reading overflow (mututho was not yet born, i mean mututho the law not the bald individual). One brilliant-confused fresha came up with such an impeccable idea that we should switch clubs so that we may have more fun. Oh what a nice idea, i thought. This is the moment i was waiting for, to go to these downtown clubs with beautiful chicks, loud music, and quality fun.

Within a flash, we were strolling almost the whole town looking for a perfect joint; because we were dismissed from all the clubs we sort to enter due to feeble reasons such as one of the fresha is too drunk, lack of identity card or "kipande", useless utterances etc. This made us to walk almost around the whole town without success. I was already giving up the hustle when one of the clubs ushered us in to have the fun we were looking for. The bouncer frisked us and we all entered, but not until we parted with "rwabe" as in 200 shillings. Inside the club, there was no empty space; hence, we had to wait for people to visit the washrooms and snatch their chairs so that we could have places to seat. Due to the high alcohol content we had sipped earlier, just one bottle of beer was enough to cushion us for the rest of the night. (Although the waiters kept on checking our bottles regularly, but it did not help because we did not order for another one).

Music played, we stormed the dance-floor with all the traditional "ushago" dancing style that left other revelers perplexed. As the dancing climaxed, someone patted my shoulder. A composed fine girl BEGGED (yes she begged me) me for a dance and i obliged willingly. After, some exchange of moves and dancing styles we decided to seat down and know each other better. She was so intrigued in me and i had to man up and order her a drink at least to push the night. We conversed for a while (some of my friends were thrown out "juu ya kubleak" by now i did not care much about them)  and we prolonged to partying till dawn. That is how i consumed my university fees that i have not cleared up to now.

 When morning came, i begged her to accompany me to my one and only room A206, the slaughter house. To be sincere, i expected this lady to refuse, but she accepted without a second thought. "Is this a trap or a muhathara", i quarreled with my thoughts, but all in all we went straight to the hostels feeling quite exhausted. Due to the fatigue and failing to sleep the previous night, we went straight to the bed. As a man, nature calls enhe! ("rewind and come again Mr. selector") as i said, as a man these things are nature bound and you have to rise to the occasion and respond to the stimuli. Sleeping with a lady in the same bed is not taking a cup of tea. In the midst of our sleep i found my hands wandering all over her body, requesting to cross-examine her body temperature and check her obesity status. As i mentioned earlier, freshas acts on hearsay and rumors because i had heard that when you touch a girl she has to viciously denounced your behavior "yani akatae kabisa" until you force her the second to a zillion times. However, this girl of mine obliged amicably without any question.  I have to admit that i was a virgin, and i expected her to refuse, now see what trouble i putted myself into. I did not know how this process unfolds and now i was in total mess of lighting up  fire that i cannot extinguish, but as a man you have to survive.

One thing that rung in my mind immediately was protection, i don't want to impregnate her or get an STI, i consoled myself. But there was an option, oooo yeaa i remembered, a condom, yes a cd, but where was it to come from. Without seeking her consent, i sprung out of the bed and rushed to the chemist because "Nameless ana yake, je una yako" (if you remember this advert). Upon arrival, much trouble dawned on me. The place was crowded and i did not garner enough courage to ask for condoms. Any time the chemist attendant asked me, "customer unataka", i replied," malizia hawa kwanza." But after the other customers went and i was about to let the cat out of the bag, another customer appeared; hence, i changed my story "uko na dawa za malaria ama typhoid apa", i muttered. The chemist attendant smiled because she had already learnt that i was fearing to say something, that is when she boldly asked me whether i wanted to buy cds or condoms. Just imagine how i blushed, ate my nails, faced the opposite side, smiled shyly before giving a simple answer as yes i want condoms. Then she asked me what type and flavor that i was looking for, i switched to airplane mode like a mobile phone once again. Sincerely, i did not know the types or flavors other than the free-hospital condoms; so i was in total darkness and the chemist attendant had to intervene once again.

She made the choice for me and now i was confident that i was going to attend to the unfinished business. I paid confidently and rushed back to the slaughter house, room 4206, to slaughter someone...



The chronicles of a fresha continues shortly
Part 2, on the way

what kind of a parent will i be?

THE PARENT OF THE FUTURE

It is not a wonder when you meet a two year old kid who is well conversant with kissing and making out, ouch! reality hurts, but truth be told we are in the bewitched generation. This fact got me thinking of what kind of a parent i will be because this generation is quite sharp than we think. A TV advert saying that "nakufeel mpenzi wangu, ndio maana tuatendelea kutumia condom kila wakati". Suppose my future kid floated a question directed to me in a full packed living room with my in-laws and workmates, "Daddy condom ni nini na ni yakufanya, na mbona wanasema watafeel wakifanya?". you know those endless kids' questions. That is why i am getting ready with answers and i want to help you right now to salvage you from future embarrassment. kindly follow these well thought and thoroughly researched prompts...



1. EDUCATION SYSTEM with "SWAG"
 We need to accept the fact that we are in the era of technological advancement and no matter how you lie to the kid, Google will be there for him or her. Therefore, it is prudent to impact the kid with an education system that fits the current developments and that is why my house will never bear the learning charts of A for Apple B for Boy et cetera et cetera. However, this will be the official chart

2. TELL REALITY
 The Bible tells us to tell the truth and it will set us free, yes in deed, truth will relieve you from the psychological torture when you lie to your kid not to shower with her sister because ghosts will haunt him. NO NO no just tell him the truth that they are two unlike poles and unlike poles attract. I believe most of you are suffering because you are in the wrong profession that your parents forced you to engage in. "Ati" become an engineer, doctor, teacher, and such nonsense, for me i categorically denounce such misleading advises and this is how i will tell my son and daughter. "Please son, become an internet hacker, hack a bank account and we will rake millions or even become a controversial blogger (who doesn't know Robert Alai and Njoki Chege), and you my beautiful daughter, kindly become a socialite, post your nudes on instagram and on twitter, bleach (oops skin light) and believe me darling you will date an oil tycoon, just ask Vera Sidika."


3. GENEROSITY
It is sad when i see my dad being served the best meal and the right quantity in the house, as we share a plate with my sister. Too bad to understand why we will collect eggs when the chicken lays during the day for Dad to come in the evening and have it in his meal solely. The moral lesson will be "mtoto akililia wembe mpe". Even when i am reading a "porn" magazine, it is good to share knowledge; hence, i will be extra generous to share. If mom is pregnant i will courageously explain the process of making her pregnant.

4. DRESS CODE
I believe most of you have been in a cross road with your parents for trying to pull out latest fashion in town. When ladies started wearing trousers it was such a degrading act and a bitter pill for parents to stomach. But look at it now, a street fashion trend, they later learnt to live with it. And that is why i will tell my daughter, "darling, by the way Rihanna has discovered a new outfit, do you mind trying it out?"....

5. OUT
Last but not least, taking kids for a day out. For me, no to Uhuru park, animal orphanage, museum or this boring recreation parks. My kids of the future will learn to go to Skyluxx, Cubano and Applebees at a very young age. They must be exposed to the world to understand how life is all about. No reading of kids story books, but magazines such as Drum and parents.
 Finally follow my advice at your own risk...
@vinniewatz

Chronicles of a "Fresha" continues...

You can take a "Fresha" out of high school, but you cannot drive the "high-s-coolness" out of him.

Believe it or not, high school swag and cognitive behavioral aspects still mandated my first year in college. I was the most punctual person when it came to meals, refusing to shave because you want an Afro-hairstyle (anyway for me it was due to lack of money to shave), sharing those nuisance, cliche stories that you think its funny, but you end up laughing alone and that sort of things. One of the thing i was not accustomed to was the freelance intermingling with ladies or the people of opposite gender. Ladies made my pubic hair to coil underneath the pants in embarrassment and experiencing a difficult time like learning how to speak Khoisan. This lady Phobic behavior can be traced way back to primary school; as i have always said i hail from the deepest side of "ushago" where we are still receiving the provision results of general e"r"ection today. One day my dad decided to save an array of coins to buy me a gift because he promised to buy me something if i became number one in class as he did say he became  in his yester years. Although i always doubted how many number ones his class had because my mother and my friend's father were classmates and they always told me (separately) that they topped their class. Never mind, i became number one with a high rated performance in the village of 35%, if you convert the total marks into percentage. As promised my dad arrived in such a melancholy mood that brightened my soul. Usually, his arrival announced that i should go to sleep immediately or it meant punishment time for the day's mistake. He passed on a black polythene paper bag and said "this is your gift son."I smiled opening it, but i changed my facial expressions immediately i saw what was inside, he had bought me shoes instead of something worth like a loaf of bread or the little bottle of juice. Shoes brought shame in our school because everyone was barefooted and the rest of the school could assemble to see this kid with shoes laughing at you like they have seen an alien. I became the school laughing stock. As a result, i opted to be removing them immediately i reached the school parameter and put them back on when i arrived our gate to avoid my parents' wrath.

Back to ladies, during assemblies, boys lined up on one side and girls on the other side; however, joining that line was like putting hot charcoal on my toes. How could i intermingle with a girl, it was such an embarrassing thing for me to stomach. Fortunately or unfortunately (it depends with your morals ), i carried this behavior to college. The first year in college comprised of various combined classes where people from different classes conglomerated in one class for a single lesson or subject. During one of such classes, the desks happened to fill out before everyone found a place to sit. Therefore, the comrade power rule applied where each sort his or her friend to squeeze out a space to accommodate him or her. When i looked up, i met with a face of this lovely girl with a huge smile like the song bird "Ameelina", who decided that because my sit was small and we could not squeeze, she had to sit on my laps. "Sema nyama kwa nyama" (thats the chinese way of saying she was a bright girl) Lap to lap, ass to the "d"-partment, waist to waist, when she turned it was face to face, when she tilted a friction occurred, if she slid rubbing the "d"-partment, fire lit!. Oh my Oh my,,,, that was baa..a..a.d,, no it was indeed gooood,, ouch it was a punishment,,,a baa,,ad idea, actually, it was a tantalizing, an arousing feeling, a nice experience of warm, juicy, colorful ("rangi ya thao") piece of flesh sitting on me. Her sitting allowance matched the Mpigs salaries because she was blessed with a bright future (I call the sitting apparatus future because the one who carries them never sees them just like we do not see our future). Wow what a feeling, i could write notes no more, my concentration was no more, my blood pressure was also no more (because the entire blood cling ed into one place)

I went mteja...my emotions clinched to a single nerve that goes straight to the urethra. Due to the stimuli, the reaction response was inevitable because i could now see the girl some inches above the see level. "Mayne," don't blame me but where i came from. The instances you saw a lady in high school were reduced to zero probability and the ones you saw were these old female teachers who had taught even my parents. By now i was desiring to eat food filled with kerosene to calm my erect stature just like in high school. My eyes were strolling inside her bare chest, my tongue was off the hook singing the lyrics to the song, "please excuse my hands." I went on to undress her after she excused my hands in my mind, i employed this kind of a mouth watering look expressed by the president of #TeamMafisi himself McJessy. My palms were sweaty and my body filled with goose pimples all over; my breathing rate changed and my heart pounded like those of the Olympic athletes on action.

The situation worsen when the girl tilted to gain a comfortable state so that she can write comfortably. "Oh God, Am in", i whispered as i closed my eyes like a "luhyia man" chewing sugarcane mercilessly. Things were happening fast in mind because i had finally managed to undress her top and my arms were roaming uncontrollably. The only remaining thing was to be a man and bring her down to the mood, to cause an ecstatic feeling that will gush her towards me and do it.

 I was about to do it when i heard a loud Horace shriek from a grown man say "Young man, are you obsessed by demons." Good Lord!, it was the lecturer who had been spying on me and directed the entire class to watch me as i hallucinated like the Mombasa kids while high on brown sugar. I was day dreaming and practicing the dream in reality that I even felt a soak feeling in my pants and everyone who had been looking at me burst-ed into this loud laughter that shook the walls. The lady looked at me with these weird eyes that made me walk out of the class embarrassed, but the lecturer called me back making fun of me. I swear being a fresha is the toughest thing that you can go through.
 

The final part..Being a Fresha..season finale

"Hey Roomie, its tomorrow" I said confidently. He just nodded facing the opposite direction, i wasn't sure whether he had heard me or he was just ignoring me. After all i am a fresha so he can choose to answer me or just ignore. The day kicked on slowly, everything dragged starting with classes, rehearsals, meals, everything was just in such a sluggish pace. In fact, lessons were the worst, even the teacher to me looked like a girl, "sema kuchora giza." My mind was bombarded with illusions of this kind of a beautiful lady, carrying cupid arrow, aiming straight at my heart, ready to fall in love with me, go to bed with me, and live with me happily thereafter (if you remember the ogre primary-school stories). This was the perfect revenge i could give my roommate. "I have spent out for days, he will spend for weeks, i will be kissing this lady every time he shows up into the room", i  told myself with such a nonchalant smile. I  was in a melancholy mood that my feelings were oozing profusely, due to the thought of a person  i have not yet met. Since i could not hide my joy, i proceeded to tell my friends in class how i am expecting a bigger day than the promulgation of the constitution. "Eish, this guys hate me, hawanitakii", that's was my response after a small banter with my "homies."

"Unajua madame wa FB vile hukua fake, me kwanza nilimeet na mmoja nikidhani ni Mrs. Kenya, but kile kilitokea, heh, ata si kiatu, boss ilikua ni gumboot", blurted one of my friends.

"Kwanza wao hua ma sugar mummy wanategea tuboys watumisuse", said another.  I had heard of such stories but i was convinced beyond doubts that it could not happen to me. "Wengine ata ni watu wa Nigeria wanatafuta watu wakutoa sacrifice". What argggggg!!! I can't listen to any of these ill-informed statements by people who are only envious to my lingering  opportunities. "wananisikilia tu wivu", i consoled myself.

Later in the evening i hardly concentrated on anything. All my emotions, visions, illusions, confusion, notion, conviction  (oops! i just rhymed "nasiringi") were embedded to this wonderful queen i was suppose to meet. Dreams that night were all directed to meeting her and having a sumptuous moment with her, probably bed her. Yea i just said it, bed her, based on the exposure from my roommate and the half-naked classmates, my emotions were skyrocketing as days passed by. I had sworn to do anything in my power to ensure that i see the color of her inner-wears beside me. The night did me a great favor because after tossing for a few hours juggling within several romantic dreams, it was morning, again. I woke up to the reality that this was the day that i am supposed to meet my senorita, my secreto de amor, and within a flush of a moment, i gushed to the bathrooms hurriedly. Should I take a bath twice, brush my teeth with two brushes, or borrow shoes and a new shirt (that's too high-school so i discredited it). what should i do to ensure that i am the most noticeable person in town? Mind you i had cleaned my clothes with Toss because their adverts says washing clothes with Toss makes you noticeable. Events unfolded quite fast, time rushed, as emotions engulfed my innocent self. We took breakfast with everyone else, but i announced that i would not be attending any of the classes that day.

"Sasa wewe hyo date yako ya saa nane na dame wa Fb ndio inafanya uhate daro ya saa mbili", one of the friend jeered. It was embarrassing but seriously we were to meet in the afternoon and  classes were starting as early as 8, why was i intending to miss classes. Anyway, i decided to attend the first two lessons, and by the way, our college was situated at the heart of CBD; hence, it was easier for me to meet her from that point. I borrowed different kinds of body sprays, applied roll-on, ditched my usual Valon oil and applied Nivea for men lotion for the first time. I strongly believed the phrase that says, "when i am smart, I am more than confident." The mixture was too much to get a distinct smell; hence, the concoction ended up smelling like a goat's pee. Never mind, i was still glamorous and feeling very confident to meet even Queen Elizabeth leave alone Beyonce or any other socialite.

After the classes, i could not waste any other minute, greeting me on the road was wasting my precious time as i was headed to a much important event in my life. By midday i was at our meeting place, despite the fact that the date was meant to commence at 2. I told myself that keeping time is the key to unlocking her heart, to me our date was much important than a job interview. I smiled at every passer-by almost asking them whether they noticed how smart i was  and who i was going to meet. Haiya, it's already 1 p.m.. let me call her and know her whereabouts. I confidently flushed my phone out of the pocket, rolled my shirt sleeves, dialed the number, cleared my throat, licked my lips, smiled a little bit, changed my standing gait and made a romantic posture, changed my voice and pressed the call button (yea a button, touch screens were only in the movies by then). Then i had this kind of a reply from the receiving end, "tafadhali mteja wa nambari uliyo piga, hapatikani kwa sasa". oh oh oh oh my goodness, never, this is a mistake, no this "mteja lady is only playing with my psychology, she cannot be out of service", i convinced myself. I dialed the number for the 100th time even the phone started suggesting that i should be patient, but the response was still the same after dialing once again. Tears cascaded my cheeks in disbelief, my emotions overwhelmed my strength, my posture collapsed, my energy flopped, "how could she do this to me", "how will i explain to my friends, what transpired." Anyway mwanaume nikujifanya". I dragged my now lazy body to a nearby county council"s resting seats and flopped like a heavy bunch of Eldoret maize  from a crowded lorry carrying numerous sacks of charcoal. Thoughts whirled through my wits wondering what had just happened. "she could have told me a day before, although i could not have agreed, that she will not make it". I sat there for more than an hour just contemplating on what had just happened, looking extremely sad, almost crying, looking extremely desperate.

At 3 p.m i was still on the same seat feeling dizzy, sleepy and unwilling to answer anybody let alone my own phone or even my favorite Facebook messages. I heard my phone receive a text message, but i was too weak to answer. "these are my friends asking how the date is progressing, and i don't wanna talk to anyone", i told myself, so i ignored the text completely. 15 minutes later, my phone was ringing profusely that i forced myself to answer. Holy shot (i didn't say what you expected you ill-minded person), thank God its her, i started shaking as i answered the call, my hands were wet and my words disappeared completely. And the way i had vowed to talk dirty to her if she even dreams of calling me, i had sworn to call her all the nasty words i knew, but the strength of a woman worked magic, i obediently answered the call. I found myself calling her babe, apologizing as if i was the one who had wronged her. She promised to be there in a minute and gave me a thousand excuses, although i never bothered, why she was off. Within a few minutes, she arrived, dressed in these flowery dressed that combined all the colors you could think it is a "peter marangi's" advert or "Masaku 7s, akamba fans". To make it clear, she was beautiful to the eyes of a "fresha", coz, at this age and stage i can never try to say that that is what is called beauty, but just a poor imitation. She had this funny hairstyle, where she had shaved her hair like the 1980s old swag, i bet she inspired Lupita Nyong'o. Her walking style was kinda wobbly because the legs looked like they were criss-crossing each other. She had applied too much make-up to identify her original skin color, her nails were unkempt (i later learnt that they are called artificial nails, i thought she had refused to trim her nails for quite a while, "ufresha nayo"). On a positive note, she gave me these warm hug, squeezing me between her breasts that i closed my eyes emotionally, she sandwiched her legs in mine (guess what happened to me there downstairs), her arms were allover me until i felt ticklish, i started getting shy, what are we doing in-front of all these people, gosh this is being manner-less (i thought).


Anyway, straight to business of the day. This is the time i realized that  i had not done my homework well, i had no idea what hotel we would be going for our sumptuous date. oops, i had tripped, but my creative nature deceived me to request her to suggest her place of choice. The place she suggested i am quite sure  i cannot pronounce the name even now because it sounded french, it was actually french. But in my quench to get laid on our first date, i obliged, and we walked hand in hand to the eatery point. To my amusement, the place was well decorated, well lit, comfortable couches (i was used to hotels with timber seats just dug straight to the ground, or a ken-poly plastic chair for the most expensive eatery point i have ever been to) and it clearly meant that this was an expensive place. The interior decor symbolized the exquisite guests around, i can guarantee you that we were the only awkward people around, especially me. This is when i remembered my roommate's advice, money. OMG i had only carried 1 thousand Kenyan shillings, actually that was the only money i had for the entire semester. My "fresha" mind had guaranteed me that 1  k was quite huge amount of money, actually if you convert it to Zimbabwean money you will get tired of counting the zeros. After pulling the chair for her (as advised by roommate), we sat down in jovial mood that shown our expectations. "Hii dame ushakula" my mind deceived me once again. To me, this was a finished game, it was time to take revenge by sending my roommate to exile. The waiter came and with this humble voice requested for our orders. Ladies first  (following the advice), and you will take mine later, i said. My friends, the name she uttered, even Google would stumble finding it, oeufs en meurrete cousine. That is when i smelled a rat. What the hell was that, i expected "respectable" meals such as "CNN yani chapati na ndengu" or "ugali omena". Sweat broke immediately, i tried to force a smile, but it was so hard to make it. I closed one eye like a person trying to release a fart without being noticed then it comes out so loudly. Imagine what was brought on the table, a handful of poached eggs, soaked in red wine and some pepper wrapped with something made of wheat, i don't care knowing its name. The waiter said to me, "your order, boss," "the menu please" i replied. The main purpose of  requesting for the menu was to study the prices of the oeufs en meurrete and not the meals. To my amusement, it only costed, imagine only, very little, just a few coins (i hope you understand i am being sarcastic) 1200 bob. Such little food that looked like it was meant to food-poison a rat costed that mush. To add wounds to injuries, she ordered for a glass of wine.That translated to approximately 1500 bob, that was my lunch money for the entire month at our usual joint. I calmly requested the waiter to leave as i would be making my order in a few minutes, later.


At this juncture, she tried calling me babe, but i could here none of her words.My thoughts were glued on the next thing to do. I sent a quick text message to one of the classmate, "hi, dude urgently send me 1k am in a hot mess right now, explain later," he replied, "in class let me see after the lesson." "Hi babe, aren't you eating", she inquired. I looked for a lie that would convince her to no avail. "eehee..aaa..mmmm..nlikua..ee.. kuna..viii..choo ziko wapi" i finally spat out. "ati washroom, do you want to run away?" she said jokingly. "no babe", i answered in a confused face. Actually that was my idea but the loos were situated strategically such that you could not escape unnoticed. But since i had requested, i proceeded to the loos. Now i was more than shaking, making numerous calls and the answer was the same, "manze sina dough sai". I spent more than 15 minutes there with no aid from anyone. I finally composed myself, went back to the seat, thinking of a plan B. "Hey babe c umekaa loo, no wonder hukua unataka kukula, but na hope sai uko fine, make order basi", as if she was the one paying. I text-ed my friend once again and now he replied "mayb nifike kwa room nchukue i send you". That meant i wait for another two to three hours, how would i buy such time. The waiter was approaching to take my order for the third time now. Boss what are you taking, he requested, ee kuna M-pesa apa karibu, i asked, apa tu nje kwa doorstep, he replied in a smiley face.

"Ok, babe lemmi withdraw money apa down i kam, make yourself comfortable, and please ku unanisaidia kumake order", i said as i walked towards the door. I scrolled my phone for a zillion time now. Messages to calls, settings and games, the old snake xenzia, within a flash of a second my phone was off. I walked as fast, actually i run, without looking behind, a car almost run over me as i run for my dear life. I was now panting profusely as i walked straight to the hostel. My room  number, A206, was ringing in my mind. Upon my arrival, i disconnected my phone i removed even the simcard, changed my Facebook account, because i thought she would trace me, that was the only way i felt a bit relieved.

That is how my relationship with my lover was short-lived, my revenge mission was aborted, my dreams of getting laid died, and i was now a disappointed man. But on a positive note, i had saved my 1k as it was meant to last me for a month or more than that. That is how i was friend-zoned by illusions, and "ufresha mob", not by a girl.



The chronicles of being a fresha continues though that marks the end of season 1...

The Chronicles of Being A "Fresha" continues

Guys I am friendzoned!!!!! I must end this relationship!!



If you have been following the chronology flow of the unfortunate things that we go through during our first year in college, then you know why i choose that topic. They say spirit of a hustler and swagger of a college kid, no I beg oooo!!, you are a moomoo (i also do not know what it means, i have heard it in "oga" movies) if you believe that, it should be the swagger of a hustler (Ruto, Rick Ross are all hustler) and the spirit of a college kid to well define my "Fresha's" years. My roommate begun to become such a nuisance, but i remained lip sealed to protect "our friendship". Mind you we had some level of friendship because i could borrow his phone to log into Facebook. For those who are wondering,  I joined college when Facebook was the hottest swag in town; unfortunately, my phone was the ones bought for the purpose of storing energy (remember am fresh from shagz) and not applications, "cjui" sleek color, "ati" android,,"ooo" music store,,, no no no, the best mobile phone was the one that could store power and receive network from the hilly part of our village, nothing more, plus the financial constraint; actually, we heard of Android Apps barely an year afterwards. A206 was the room where we spent most of the hours after classes. it became a norm to borrow my roommate's phone so that i can "enter" Facebook. I could see from his facial expressions that he was not comfortable with the idea, but he didn't complain knowing that he would send me to "exile" for a whole week. For those who do not know what is exile it means be sent out of the room so that your roommate can have cuddling, rubbing, lips-locking, you name it moments with his partner in warmth while you spend sharing a single bed the four of you.

This Facebook thing became a trend way before Larry Madowo. One day as i was scrolling through my inbox, guess what i found? Now you are waiting for me to tell you and i just asked you to guess. Anyway because i know you are so lazy to think, let me just tell you, i found a message (what else can you find in your inbox). However, this was quite a peculiar message that made my wandering eyes stand erect like the first day i saw Vera Sidika,,, no no no i hate her, i meant the first day i saw my account credited with some few coins. Anyway, this message came from a certain name that automatically drew my attention, i had never felt this special, appreciated, acknowledged, loved Oh My God i could not believe that this message was directed to me. A message that will make each one of you be envious and wish that they were not me. Firstly, I was used to chatting with my immediate high school boyfriends, so getting a message from a girl was such a blessing. But the fact that it was a girl did not mesmerize me like the content in the message. Imagine this "ushago" boy, without a profile picture on his timeline, receiving this beautiful, well intention-ed message that read, "Hae". Yes! the message only read, "hae", that is why i said you will wish that you are not me, but who cares. I guess you all wrote composition in primary school because that is how i can only express my joy: i was as a happy as a king trembling like a chameleon on a banana leaf. Leave that alone, it was a the most inundating message that left me all but dumbfounded. I replied the Facebook message with a lot of expectations, jubilation and sincere love in my heart.

They say a long journey starts with a single step; damn, i am a living witness because our inbox-ing became a living style. We started having this kind of messages that left me shy despite the fact that we were chatting with a person who is ingmiles away. Soon or later we transferred our messaging to mobile phone, thanks to the "Yu" network for offering free calls. Yes, it started, i would rather miss a class than miss her call. She made me feel elevated beyond my standards, I was always in the mood of extending my lips towards hers, arms towards thighs, and everything i owned could be hers. However, we had not met physically, this was just but the highest level of fantasy. I was in love with her, do not wonder how, but we were in love online. Our feelings could not be hidden anymore, we had to do something, we had to meet physically. After planning for a date, i frequently visited my roommate to equip me with skills and how to behave on our date. One of the thing that he kept telling me was that, Vinnie please be equipped with enough money. "500-1k would be enough i told myself", but what i experienced when we met,,, wait for part four....




+vincent murimi

vinniewatz: want fun in Kenya: KENYA NATIONAL THEATER

vinniewatz: want fun in Kenya: KENYA NATIONAL THEATER: In Kenya end month means its salary time so every club is packed with people "baptizing" their salaries. It sounds good to go and ...

Being a "Fresha" in Campus.. part two

As i Said earlier,,,,
the person who invented this fresha thing should be stoned to death, resurrected, then shot five bullets on the head until he is sent to coma, after recuperating, slashed with blunt machetes that my grandma used to say "ati" they are as blunt as the ones used to circumcise a warthog (how true that is, only her knows).

"Kijana, umpewa room", the dean asked; sincerely, is that a question to ask a mature man like me, a man with two grown balls and hairy armpits. He is the one suppose to issue me with the room and he asks such childish questions. Anyway i had to answer, am a fresha, who cares, though i answered with a folded face until he lamented "kijana unawekea nani sura ya kazi na haujajiriwa" ooooo... oh there is no difference between a "fresha" and a "mono", both are school wheelbarrows that can be pushed by anyone, even the cooks. Listen here "kijana" you are suppose to behave here because there is no mother of yours here (in spite of the dholuo accent and incorrect grammar i still wondered why he kept referring to me as kijana, can i ever become a msichana). Time was not on our side so he had to rush the prolonged paper work from my fees receipts, registration and admission forms, class 8 leaving certificate (was it necessary anyway), and meal card (the most important thing to a student, no matter the level of learning, food is still an issue of contention for a student). After performing all those rituals, too many than a circumcision ceremony, i was released to go and surrender in my room A206, i vividly recall the number. With a lot of jubilation knowing that i am a fully admitted university student (actually the first one in the village, so you can imagine the pride "maringo nayo") i gushed out with a speed that can only be compared with Germans goals against Brazil or a man going to an M-pesa agent after receiving money from a wrong number. After quite a walk, approximately 100 meters within 10 seconds (so if i train i can be competing with Rudisha and Bolt, but my name betrays me "i am not a kale), my joy was short lived, i stood with an upright gait, perplexed, confused just like a boy when he receives a text from his lover saying "baby we need to talk", boy run. Hahaha please join me at laughing at myself, seriously, where was i going, i didn't have a snippet clue of where the hostel were located. "GFF yani ngai fafa", i had to goo back to the unruly dean once again, the door was already shut; hence, i knocked viciously.

Oh My gracious Lord, i have never seen such bulgy eyes, the size of full moon, glare at one object for a long time. I freaked out! I trembled, shaking yawa. Imagine (with a luo accent), the full moon was the dean's eyes while i was the object being observed. "kijana (one again he called me that) shida yako ni nini"

"hizo hostel ziko wapi, sir", i stammered. "ziko South B", he replied."South B iko pande gani" i asked with my shriek voice wishing i was Ben 10 or superman so that i can swallow this giant of a man alive. Gosh this guy was huge, why didn't he look for another job like a club bouncer or he become a punching bag. "wewe kijana una ujinga sana, hujui South B ama umekuja Nairobi leo, nyinyi watu wa ushago mmechanganikiwa sana, fuata bara bara inateremka apo railways utaona men's hostel."

 Good Lord, this man just embarrassed me in-front of a hoard of people, just humiliated me, belittled my ego and pride. I have never felt this embarrassed, what had i done to him to deserve such scolding like a dog when it takes your food. Anyway, "mwananume nikujifanya" so i pretended to be OK, and faced the direction as instructed with a lot of courage but deep inside i was as empty as Nairobi on #SabaSabaday. However, this was the start of the end of my tribulations. Mind you, people were carrying huge suitcases, bags, they were brought by family and friends, to them it was a really initiation of good life. Vinnie on the other hand was directly opposite of that, a small bag-pack that i had bought while at high school, so you can imagine one strap was torn so i had to hold the bottom of the bag with one hand to maintain the balance. It had three clothes, tissue paper (you now know why i was excited when i got a meal card), and some little paraphernalia. Actually i didn't know what a person should report with as i told you i was the first to attend campus in the village so i had nowhere to borrow some advice. I was absolutely alone and it was getting dark. Fear of the unknown, i don't know where i am going, i had heard stories of how people are stolen at Nairobi when dusk falls. My inner-self told me to run, but the other conscience told me to stop thinking like a high school kid, I am in University so i must display maturity. So i walked chest up-high, looking at everyone with a lot of pride, almost telling them, "nko campus mta do", but i held on to that thought. After walking for almost thirty minutes, i had not seen anything like Kenya Poly Men Hostel. How now, have i already passed the place or have not reached. A brilliant idea clung me, stop a PSV and board until you arrive. "uniekee hostel na usinipitishe please", i commanded the conductor. Surprisingly, the reply was umefika, aaiii, how fast? I was actually two minutes to the place, but 'Ufresha made me board a matatu".

Quickly after getting a room the next thing was to take a cold, freezing shower to delude the fatigue and exhaustion. The room had two occupants and the other guy was not in, but i could see something that looked like ladies shoes. Was i sharing a room with a lady, ah that's non of my business, so i continued to remove my dirty clothes and wore a short (the "see-through" shorts given to monos in high school). After close to 5 minutes the door was wide open and shut immediately, after i turned... oh oh oh my good self, a voluptuous, deluxe, woman who qualified to become a socialite before Vera Sidika spoiled the profession. She only had a small towel round her waist barely covering the breasts and the thighs were all outside for me to enjoy the view. Abomination!!! Chineke!!this is treason, i dont wanna say it, but let me go on. She just said sasa and proceeded to change her bra and wear panties in my presence. A naive boy from shags is being introduced to porn live, i hurriedly turned on the opposite side covering my eyes wishing this devil never appears to me again. Ghafla Bin Vuu, his boyfriend, my roommate, came and without noticing me, he kissed the girl deeply. I can longer explain how offended i felt because this was unacceptable to my eyes little did i know it will soon become a trend, kwenda exile nayo. "Ufresha continued to sumbua", i laid on the bed waiting for a bell for supper. Gosh that is how i missed my first three meals, i was used to a system where the bell controls everything. aaii. this was too unfortunate because even my roommate didn't care simply because he had a girlfriend....

Ni sawa tu, pamoja tuangamize  ufresha,,, in case you need part 3 and the last,, show your love by commenting and following my page #sniffa twitter handle @vinniewatz my blog vinniewatz.blogspot.com