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Category Archives: MEMORIES.

Alcoholic Experiences.

Good old fashioned booze.

“Police today managed to impound 200 liters of illegal brew in the sprawling Kibera slums.The OCS Mr.Kamau together with his boys then went ahead to pour the brew,in a rather shocking turn of events the owner fainted as witnesses watched in awe as the contents of the brew were laid before there very eyes”

It’s the 7pm News and every one is glued to the screen in utter amazement as some crude brown liquid  purported to  be alcohol is being poured.Then the comments ensue

“I wonder how people even drink this shyt,i mean in the worse case  scenario kunywa Keg au Naps”

“Jaymo wewe unaona aje?”

Sheepy smile on my face”I wouldn’t dare let that shyt touch my  shoes let alone drink it”

The truth of the matter is AkaJaymo has indulged  in this crude delight.In some far away town far far from Nairobi.

It’s a shady lil town just before Mombasa,am talking about Voi. Now for those who may have flanked or missed a couple of lessons in Geography,let me tell you a lil about Voi.

Voi  is a dusty town on Mombasa road just before you fika mombasa.It boasts of one stored building that houses pretty much every thing  in the town,am talking about Equity Bank,the only discent joint(Millys),a couple of fancy shops….you get the picture.

After downing a couple of decent drinks me and Marto decide to do it local am talking coasto local,Mnazi baabie.So we head south East (Google Maps can confirm) of the town.To a little Village called Mariphenyi and deep in the heart ,a brewery that boasts the best Mnazi you ever drunk according to the Inhabitants.

Now just as anyone who has done any traveling will tell you,every shady joint has it’s Fixer,that  go to guy.The guy who promises to get you the realest of whatever it is you are looking for at the best imaginable price.

Van-der-Sa  was that guy;i swear the guy must have smealt the Nairobi on me for as soon as i was within a whiff of the joint he appeared.Promising to get us the best Mnazi at the best price for his purpoted long relationship with the propriator.He had the  fluentest Swahili you ever heard.

“Ndugu shikamoo,mie naitwa Van-der-Sa waonekana mgeni huku,wafuata tembo,sio?”

Anyone who knows what i got in Swahili while in high school will attest that the grade was just enough to get  me to campo.So it took me a while to process what he was saying,all the  while looking me dead in the eye.

Before my response could be given he interjected my thought process

“Njoo,Njo nikupeleke”

“Najaa” I responded in the fakest swahili accent you ever heard,this coming from the guy who thought Aitha was synonymous with either.

So there we were, seated on some stool like contraptions  feeling all Domestic touristish.

The proprietor/brewer walks up to us and inquires what our poison was.

“Kikombe cha Mnazi tafadhali” Now obviously in sync with the swahili.

“Hapa hakuna Mnazi Labda Bangara!!”

Ba what!!!!Even Google translate was at lack for a definition.So i enquire what Bangara was.

“Pombe ya wishwa.”So i look at Marto and just like he was reading  my mind he asks “Wishwa ni nini??”

By now she can tell we are rookies in her alcoholic joint.So i ask her name just to act the friendly type and if its possible for me to see how the Bangara is made.

“Naitwa Pamela,Wataka kuona Bangara inavyotengenezwa,nipe dakika”

Am now telling Marto how we should make our exit,for fears of being drugged but you know how beer  pressure works.I find myself glued.

She comes back with  a bottle with some whitish stuff in it. The irony here is  that it’s a Viceroy Bottle,the contents being nothing close

Bangara

I take the first sip,don’t ask me why but i just did,then the second and third,not bad-passing it over to marto who does the same thing.

30 minutes later am singing,being in  coast i decide a catchy swahili tune will do

“Pamela njoo kwa yesu bado anakupenda——”

The curiosity bug in me is itching,i really want to know how Bangara, or what ever it’s name was is prepared.Anything that can get me drunk in under 30 mins deserves my curiosity.

So i follow Pamela to where the stuff is being made and am hit by total surprise,the kind that gets you sober ASAP

The brewery(for lack of a better word) is dingy by any standards. Even those kibera ones are better.Am guessing her client base hasn’t been in here.There is a big ass drum in the middle,dark in color menacing look.With what appears to be soot on the side.

Its a mud structure with more smoke than a Jamaican Bong.She is holding a stick,she calls it her sturing stick.Allow me to tell you more about this stick.

In the Brew business you are as good as your stick.A brewer respects his stick because although it takes away people’s lively hoods and even wrecks families in its wake it feeds  hers.The amount of respect  accorded to this stick is admirable.The stick never leaves  the brewery. It’s been in her family for several years now.It’s an ugly looking piece of wood,angry wood,drunk wood.Its never washed.she only runs water over it and puts it away.

She dips it and sturs some brownish looking concoction  exchanging casual talk with some drunk fella outside.Am not listening am more In shock.I’m Actually at the door not sure whether to enter or stay ouside.

The ugly stick is working its  magic,bubbles are rising, the smell  is sickening,the heat is getting to me,the booze to…..

The next thing a bratha… had passed out.In a make shift brewery in  some shady village in VOI.

 
 

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How I almost met your mum.

Disclaimer:The events and people depicted in this post are  fictional,any resemblance with people leaving or otherwise is purely  coincidental.That being said,enjoy.

“Can I take you out sometime?”,I enthusiastically asked.

“Jaymo there is something I have to tell you,am seeing someone else,its not official but i think he is the one”

I know what you are thinking,this is just another one of those posts,its not,this is me getting dumped and its not even happening face to face,its happening via Facebook,the same site that had brought us together in the first place-damn you Mark Zukerberg.

Am frantically typing,thank God for Qwerty keyboards,  “With who????”

The wait begins,I hit refresh like a hundred times on opera mini,still nothing,I pace the room,mad thoughts running through my mind.Pick  up the phone,refresh inbox (1),then i freeze up,the words couldn’t be clearer.

“With Austin,I thought you would have guessed by now.”

What follows is  awkward silence,I hear they call it pin drop silence.I take a sit,pour a stiff one, Kenya Cane never tasted  so plain,and allow myself to absorb it all.

Allow me to indulge you,She had the prettiest name you ever heard,Sandy Sue. Sandy was not you average chic on the block,far from it,she had the it factor in her,that touch of brilliance that made her stand out.Come to think of it,maybe that’s what drew me to her.

It happened just like it did in the movies,our meeting was magical. I had just gate crashed a bash in tao,the terrible trio was at it again

A couple of hours of frothy indulgence later and i was good to go,the mamas were ripe for the picking,and i was not going to pass out  on the opportunity. You know how it goes,a brother worked his magic around the club till he caught a glance of her.

There she was,immaculately dressed,Her eyes were golden,the smile she was wearing  priceless,a couple of guys were indulging her in casual talk.I took a  shot of viceroy and observed her from a distance.The fellas who were chatting her left,this was my shot…i made my way her seat.First thing to grab my attention was the bottle of Alvaro in her hand,Note to self:Non drinker

Swag check,style check I was good to go.”Hi am James”

She turned towards me,her smile was intoxicating.”Or did i catch you at a wrong time”I panically asked.

“Not at all,am Sandy,Sandy Sue.Pleasure to meet you.” That was my que and a brother wasn’t going let the moment slip.After the usual pleasantries,Casual talk was exchanged,Numbers were givenand facebook contacts added.A promise of  later acquittance promised.

The next day spelt the beginning of a well strategised plan to win Sandy over.I sent her my first text,

“Uko online,log in facebook ”

I loged on to facebook and sent myfirst inbox.

“Evening chic,how was your day?”

She called me boy,I called her chic.

The semester ended,The December holiday begun..Being residents of differnt towns,the long distance thing would have to do.If Bob Collymore would be asked am sure he would bear testimony,the number of hour spent either texting, calling or facebooking must have earnt Safaricom  a pretty penny.

A new semester dawned,School was back in session.

I still remember how Good it felt when we hugged  for the first time,her scent was un mistakable-Catherine,designer obviously,it lingered on even in her absence.The four months that constituted the semester were golden by any measure.

Memories of how we went clubing,Me trying to sway her to have a bottle of two,her so vehemently in refusal.

The lady in Yellow I recall,some how she had a way of combining two things i loved-yellow and her- into an ochestra of pure beauty.

Even the fellas were jealous,Jaymo was smitten,She had managed to turn a brother into a love sick puppy.

It wasn’t pure clock work differences were obviously there:Like here love for Reggae and eveything Jamaican and his love for Hip Hop.But just like eveything natural an equilibrium of sorts was struck.

Many are the nights he spent at her place,willowing in her presence,either watching the Animations she loved so much or just striking casual conversation about this and that lecturer and how he or she had ruined her day.

Am not sure what drew me to her,maybe it was her simplicity or maybe i was just looking for someone to fix me,my drinking had taken a rise over the weeks.But whatever it was, surely was working because this mama had gotten me smitten.

But Destiny has a twisted sense of humor,it has a way of  facking you up when you least expect it because here i find myself.

Questioning my manhood.wondering what went wrong.wondering whether it was that night i came to her place drunk,I had gotten into a comfort  spot of sorts, rarely putting any effort.Or maybe it was  the times i snoobed in  campo.

whatever it was,here I am,sipping away the liquor in my glass.typing my goodbye

Thoughts resonating in my mind,i can only  view myself as crayon in her life,i might not be her favorite color,but  one day she is going to need me to complete her picture

 
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Posted by on May 8, 2011 in Humour, MEMORIES., Reflections

 

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Me,Martin &Opium accusations.

“You were using bhang and opium, and when the security knocked at the door you refused to open”

I look at Marto,the the security guy (lets call him Mr.K) continues to Rumble ,”Najua mnatumia madawa ya kulevia,naongea na nyinyi kama mzazi,niko na watoto,kwanza ule wa mwisho ni wa 1985,mzee ata zaidi yenu”

Marto begins getting defensive,”mimi ata pombe situmii”, Mr.K snaps “Mnafikiria sijui” “Mkubwa ata opium sijawai ona!”

I manage to mumble. “Itikieni, the campus will offer you counseling ata kuna mwingine wa cocaine anatibiwa” He picks up the phone calling the dean of students to drive his point home,” Dean, ule kijana wa cocaine anaendelea aje………….”

drugs_bunny

How did we get here you may ask! Let me take you 2 weeks down memory lane

It’s a new semester, actually a new academic year ,third year ,Just after reporting back to campus me and Marto decided to throw a bash, a house warming bash actually since we are now living in our own house –servant quarters actually-with house mates not some lousy hostel with a hundred an one neighbors.

Well the troops are quickly rallied and by the troops I mean The Crew, plans are put in motion.

The plot:20 liters of Bangara –Bangara is like some tribal booze that coastal people drink, similar to Mnazi  -Smirnoff blue label, red label, K.K. and of course Jamaican brand riffa.

Location: C9-O2

Crowd: strictly jammas, no chics no gatecrashers.

So duties are quickly delegated, the Mnazi suppliers, the real alcohol suppliers, the weed and finally the K.K. (Kenya king). No mention of who was to supply what will be made here for fear of the snitches-yes JKUAT has trained snitches.

At around 1pm the Mnazi crew leaves the campus, promptly followed by the weed crew. Am still at campo when they come back heaving, apparently carrying 20 liters is no small fit.

What we were later to find out is that campus security was hot on their heels. Apparently they think petrol is being smuggled into campus, a strike maybe!

After evasion tactics around school, the Mnazi is safe and sound, in a cool dry place. We can rest easy.

“Niaje gauge imefika” Mogaka asks “iko salama, blue label niaje?”I inquire “njiani boss,twajaa”

Adrenalin rush! Can’t wait to get high…but first I head for the mess because it’s now heading 6:00pm.

Ugali, beef and Veg later am back to the crib: Time to freshen up.

At around 7.30 everyone gathers at our crib, (for some reason c9-02 is the favored location for its proximity to where the Mnazi has been stashed)

Cups are handed out and the merry making commences. Stories are traded some of which am sure are fake, like the one Mogaka is telling us about……..I’ll tell you the story another day.

“Leta Ngwai hi pombe haipandi,mlitoa wapi?” people want to get stoned.

The contra bun is produced, the doors locked, windows to, match box in hand the first joint is lit. puff!puff! pass is the rule.

The second joint, Puff Puff pass…. Third, the laughter kicks in, veins are vesodilated, eyes are popping out. Fourth joint…..knock! Knock!

We ignore The knock turns into a bang and some words are mumbled…..

I don’t remember who opened the door but the next thing I saw was 4 guys wearing menacing faces storming in. If this was a movie am guessing this would be the climax, the part where the sound track is some fast paced tune…..

“Nani mwenye hii nyumba?” I look at Marto, “mimi” he retorts.

“Una ishi na nani?” ,“mimi’’ I reply

“tokeni nje” now you would expect the guys in the house would cook up some plot to have the security jamaas go  au contraire mon ami, quite the contrary. Someone grabs the bottle in my hand as I walk out an mumbles something I cannot understand, what with the adrenalin rush am experiencing

“Mna fanya nini huko ndani?”

“ka party kadogo,ata hatu pigi kelele, na 10pm bado” I somehow mange to say.

“Nini mnavuta”

“sigara” Marto jumps in

“leteni ID zenu twende tukaandike statment”

Marto begins to pleed, I swear I have lived with Marto but I have never had him beg like this “Tafathali boss!Tafathali boss! ”

marto pleading

“Okay kama mme kataa sawa….msipige kelele mingi basi” They leave and we assume that’s the end of that!

Back in the crib guys is still drinking, the contra bun has however been discretely hidden. A couple of shots later the story has completely been forgotten and we drink the night away till the wee hours of the morning when we finally retire to bed.

A day passes, 2 days 5 days a week and we have not heard anything from the campus security. We assume the water has passed under the bridge.

We curry on with our lives like it never happened.

Till 2 weeks later we get a call from the security office

“Are you Martin? Please report to the security office”, “okay”

Next to ring was my phone, same conversation same response.

So here we sit, allegations of how we use opium being thrown at us. How we are suspected of being crack addicts and mandatory counseling is the only thing that will save us.

We somehow managed to convince the security boss that our drug use was fictional, evidence to implicate us being absent. We were lucky, the case is dropped for lack of evidence and akajaymo and his partner in crime live to see another semester.

 
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Posted by on May 2, 2011 in Humour, MEMORIES., Uncategorized

 

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Flashforward:Letter to first year Jaymo.

flash_forward

FlashForward is constructed around a high concept narrative where a mysterious event has caused nearly everyone on the planet to simultaneously lose consciousness for 137 seconds, during which time people see what appears to be a vision of their own life approximately six months in the future: a global “flashforward”.

Well let me do the reverse and send the younger Jaymo a flashfoward into his future.Let me send him a letter,and give him an insight into the man he will become.

Dear 1st year Jaymo,

writing-letter

Am guessing you will shrug of this letter,your attitude is at it peak by now,don’t worry 3 years down the road that will not change.I know  you cannot get enough of campus and you have switched from fanta to naps.That will soon change…keroche is working on a secret potion.

You and Google are falling in love,don’t worry that will not change much,in fact over the next years you will learn half of what you know via the search engine.

Obsession with facebook is at its peak,you have stopped blogging for  this reason,mum is on your case because your internet expenditure is at its highest,don’t worry wi-fi is going to be set up soon and you will spend hours on end surfing and downloading.

A certain girl called Stella  will walk in your life.No you and her will not groove but you will have a magical friendship that will raise eyebrows from chics and fellas alike.Ignore them,the rumours to.

The trio will be born! The random three:Jaymo,Marto and Stella.

On a lighter note,you will find a chic,the flip side is you will grove for 8 months with her after which you will break up…and months later she will be a baby mama!

No its not your kid but your friendship with her will still be tight.

Marto and you will get into trouble a couple of times,statements at the campus security office will be written,cell mta lala…just to name somethings,Your current friends will all get pissed by your arrogance,so tone down on that.

The Guitar…..YES that guitar next to you,every thing points to you learning the instrument,but you will not.Hip hop is still your first love and all this years in the future you will still attend WAPI but they have moved it from the British council to Sarakasi Dome….yes i know that sucks.

All those A’s your transcript has will go on decreasing! No supplementary exam yet but you got more C’s than you can count.The good thing is your whole class is flopping,what did you expect taking Mathematics and Computer Science.

Movies and Series will consume most of your adult life,so much so that in the future you are blogging using the series you have been watching

Animation is your thing,They are still airing Family Guy,The Boondocks is over lakini….the animation they are making now days is crazy. Despicable me will thrill you

Life is going to be full of ups and downs, mostly ups. So just sit back, and enjoy being in campo.Save your money because you will hemorrhage all your chums in Mombasa in your second year,you will bribe cops severely and gold digging mama’s will be on your case

ps .As i right this Osama has been killed and no he wasn’t in a cave.

Yours sincerely Jaymo,

the campo finalist

 
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Posted by on May 2, 2011 in MEMORIES., Uncategorized

 

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Break out kings: A night in a police cell

Drum rolls ladies and gentle men,the show for your viewing today is:

Breakout-Kings.

In order to catch escaped convicts, a squad of U.S. Marshals makes a special deal with several current prisoners. If they agree to help, their sentences will be reduced by one month for each fugitive they bring in and they will be transferred to a minimum-security facility. However, if any of them should try to escape, they will all be returned to their original prisons and their sentences will be doubled.

 Second year of campo was one i vividly remember for  many reasons,be it my new mastery of cheap gins and spirits,the new crib(i had since moved out of hostels)…..well you get the picture.Now just a couple of weeks after going back to campo for the first semester i was back at it again,the random plots

My room mate one Martin aka Marto had not yet reported so my tantrums had been inhibited for lack of a right man,well a couple of days  later he got back to campo and after tongue lashing about how siku hizi hawezi tegemeka,he decided the only way to calm our nerves was to get us drunk enough to induce amnesia.

‘Nyamira’, some shady joint  off campo was the destination 20 minutes later.Being just a couple of weeks after opening,money was @ un manageable levels,am talking CBK  levels.So it was no surprise that our joint was jam packed.No seats in sight.

“Nyamira,mbili mbili kwa hapa nje”,and by mbili he meant two bottles of frothy delight EABL style.

“Oya,marto barley ime isha,labda president”-right there is where i should have said no and walked back to campo but since he was buying,” mwambie alete,kwanza ni how much?”  “50 bob!”

yes good people,finje tu!

Now i didn’t require Calculus to do the math…500 bob would buy me 10 bottles,I should have known 10 is like a death wish…..a coupe of hours later,several trips to the loo,the occasional tot of viceroy and 9 bootles down,the urge was irrefutable!, lazima ningeenda tao.

So me,Marto and my 10 th bottle board a matatu to town,I close my eys and what seems like a minute later I was in tao.

“jaymo amka!Ama ume chew black out? ”

“Boss hizi vitu zako zime ni beba na vile nilikuwa nazitharau.Uko sure ziko legal?” I retorted to Marto

“wacha ufala unasema wewe! mimi ata sion poa “….paid the conductor and we were on our way.

Know if u read the Bible you will recall a verse talking about how a blind man cannot lead another. Well we were obviously in violation of scripture because Iwas leading Marto to God knows where! The confidence ii was exhibiting was remarkable,the next thing i remember was this undying need to sit down having walked for what seemed as eternity.

“tuketi nje ya club angalau” i told Marto

“Aya basi kaka”

That was a bad idea but i was to find out the hard way,Nje ya club Jaymo and marto sat,actually dozed off.Next thing was….a deep kalenjin accent.

“Vichana nyinyi ndio mungiki mna iba watu? Wapi ID?”  “Sina iliibwa jana”

” basi ingia kwa mariamu Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on May 2, 2011 in Humour, MEMORIES.

 

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one tree hill:Evolution of JKUAT chics.

opening hook:

One_Tree_Hill

one tree hill is a story of a couple of high school teens and we follow them through their freshman year,sophmore,junior,senior and their young adult life.In which course  we observe individual evolution.

well just like i always do,let the juxtaposition begin:

first year of campus.

good girl

The girls are at their most naïve, of course, in spite of themselves thinking very wise. They have all kinds of  values set, what they want t accomplished, high standards.They must be smart, well dressed, kind, polite, a Christian, hard worker, non-drinker, non-smoker, this list could go on and on.Classes are attended on time,cats are never dabbed,assignments never ‘photocopied’…..this list can go on like a roll of tissue so ill stop there,u get the picture.

Boys are the last thing running 0n their  naïve minds,but this in no way deters the fellas from ‘ponyokaing ‘ with them,over the years strategies have put in place and ponyokaing with one,so before the poor fresha can say ‘black ice’,the jamma will have pitiad her and gone to the next one.Her dreams of getting married to Mr.Right will go up in Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on May 1, 2011 in Humour, MEMORIES.

 

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24: B125PZ692 Confirmed.

I begin my post just as i will through out this blog,referring  to a  TV series that captures the context.Today’s show :

24

The show goes something like this,Each 24 -episode  season covers 24 hours in the life of Jack Bauer as he does death defying fits of heroism…the opening line goes something like “…the following takes place between 1am and 2 am…..”.Each show uses real time method of narration.
well this event mimics this format.

4:00pm-5:00pm
So its a normal  Friday evening in campus-4:00pm to be precise-lessons are just over and i can swear if u look  keenly  you can see the smirks on everyone’s face…well almost everyone except me….stick with this mental picture it will come in  handy later on.

5:00pm-6:00pm

so a couple of campus drama sessions later  i  hit  the hostels, grab my comp and console myself with gossip on Twitter and one or two inboxes from Facebook….

6:00pm-7:00pm
It happens just like it does every Friday on campus,the phone rings..”beep!beeep!” thank God for caller ID,because i am in no mood of picking calls Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on April 29, 2011 in Humour, MEMORIES.

 

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