It is a no chills season it appears. Just after ruffling several feathers in a span of just few days, Robert Alai found himself on the receiving end of some savage attacks from his audience.

In one of his recent posts, Robert Alai took shots at the self styled Prophet Owour over the fact that most his rallies have been followed up with accidents. However, both the neutrals and Prophet Owuor followers have taken issue with the controversial blogger and expressed their views in a savage manner many reminding him of his deceased brother.

Here are some of the comments;

 

 

 

2016 kicks off in a gloomy note for a huge number of Ebru TV employees.

A source form the organization informed us that a huge section of the employees have been laid off and 3 bosses from Turkey (where Ebru is based) have already left the country.

Part of the Termination of Employee Contract reads:

“Due to the management changes our company is going for a strategy changes, therefore we are
sadly informing you that we will not be able to work with you at the end of January. Your
contract termination is attached to the mail. Thank For Your Service”

This message by ‘Sugar and Spice’  could also be a sign of what is to come:

One of my best career experience 2015 . I have learnt so much .. thank you @millychebby @terencecreative for teaching me the ropes and of course to the management and crew at @ebruafrica @sugarandspiceebru THANK YOU .

Speaking to Ghafla, an Ebru TV representative revealed that just like any business entity, they decided to review their business strategy. Part of this review, as management practices would dictate, is cutting down on the human resource. As a result, each department within the TV station has been affected.

As for now, the TV station has no intentions or any near plan to shut down but they have decided to reduce the number of programs they have been undertaking. To this end, key flagship programs took a break.

In, addition, the representative claims no Ebru Africa boss has left the country for Turkey and all the terminated contracts of their esteemed employees were done in accordance to the law.

When Nairobi Diaries first aired on K24, many felt that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel with the show.

It was described as plastic yet exceptionally mind-numbing with each scene stretching way past its time leaving the watcher bored.

The only show that has gained as much hate as ‘Nairobi Diaries’ was ‘Tujuane’ and it grew on us.

Despite of the harsh criticism leveled at the show, it is becoming wildly popular and it certainly provides comical relief from an otherwise bluey Monday.

Many may trash the show, but it could actually is a genius idea as people will tune in even if to just, hate, the numbers will go up and they will make their money.Many wonder who is behind the show, and it’s a production of one Janet Mwaluda from JKUAT Karen Campus. Incidentally Mwaluda is also Vera’s Bestie

January has brought forth it’s fair share of drama quite early on.

In fact, in just one week it promises to be quite an exciting year. Well, for the housewives at home invention seems to be the game’s name. A bored lady at home decided twerking in a way only she knows can be quite the aesthetic treat she needs. Here is her crazy video she shared online to the consternation of many;

Here is the video

 

 

As you all know, Bayern Munich coach Pep Guardiola was in the country from last week up to until a day ago. For all you soccer haters, this guys Pep is the best and most sought after coach in the world at the moment. Let that sink in for moment. Since fate favours me so much, i got to party with the tiki taka specialist in Westlands. The night turned out to be one of my finest moments in life.

I first met Pep on Saturday at Karen Golf Club. I actually had no idea he would be there. I had been invited to play golf by one Mr.Olusa, a manager at Kengen. He’s a big fan of my work and he calls me from time to time. He even insists i should date and eventually marry his daughter. He’s the second person to offer their daughter to me after the mama i wrote about here. I guess i am husband material. Haha. The only problem is that his daughter is in a serious relationship with one popular musician here in Kenya. Mr. Olusa doesn’t approve of his daughter’s relationship so he wants me to use my ‘Sheriffic’ charms to steal her from the guy. He’s really serious about it but i hate fighting over girls so i am still thinking about it.

Anyway, so i availed myself at Karen Golf Club looking like Tiger Woods in his heyday. I was wearing a cap (i hate caps) and ridiculous shoes. One couldn’t tell that i am very poor at the sport. In fact the ball always gets lost in the woods every time i knock it.

Before we even began, i noticed that everyone was running towards one direction and requesting a bald mzungu guy for selfies. It was the bavarian hero himself Mr. Guardiola. Unbelievable

Being a staunch soccer fan myself, glee took over my senses, making me dash towards the man in order to join the growing groupie bandwagon. We ended up taking a few group selfies before security guards requested us to let the man enjoy his golf.

I re-joined Mr.Olusa in the golf game. He hadn’t even bothered to take a pic with the Bayern Munich coach. I was soon to find out why

“He’ll be at Capital Club in Westlands tonight. I have VIP access. Wanna come over and party with the big boys?” my future potential father-in-law said.

This was magical. I was in

For the rest of the afternoon, we sank our teeth in some meaty dialogue while chewing up on as much of the golf course scenery as possible.

After swinging our hands to tedium, we left to prepare for the night

“Nipigie ukifika hapo nje ya Capital Club. I’ll get you in. Be there early young man”, Mr. Olusa reminded me as he got into his Cardillac and drove off

Time flew by quickly. By 8 pm i was outside Capital Club.Mr. Olusa came out holding a white woman by the waist. And the man is married. Oh dear.

He whispered a few words to the security guys who gladly allowed me to enter. It was a dope affair. Wealthy people from all races were cuddling and mingling. Guardiola was already in the house, laughing out loud and socializing with everyone.

I had to talk to my footballing idol. I approached him.

“Hello Mr.Guardialo, i am Philip, a big fan” i said

“Well….hello zea young man?”, he responded in kind with a thick spanish accent.

I wanted to engage him in deep soccer banter but just as i was about to start telling him why Douglas Costa is better than Robben, two hot girls approached us. One of them grabbed my arm as id it belong to her and held on to it. Maybe she thought i was his P.A or something.

“We love you Pep” gushed her creepy friend. They were in love with him. He was just a nerdy tactician on holiday and these two girls whose collective breasts weigh more than me were staring at him rapt and yearning for his attention.

Unfortunately, Mr.Pep had many admirers and we were soon ousted by another group of selfie crazed Indian girls. I was left with the two ladies, whose focus had now shifted to me. They still thought i had some form of association with the coach. Maybe it was the Daniel Craig–like suit i was wearing.

I am not always a schemer when dealing with women. I try to be honest as much as possible but these two chics seemed gullible enough to be manipulated so i played along. After all, both of them had booties to behold. If that wasn’t incentive enough, then i don’t know what incentive is. And If everything went well, i would chipo one of them – or both

As the taller, stoop-shouldered girl who claimed to be a model pawed at my shirt, I saw a mane of bleached-blonde hair sticking up out of the crowd. I looked closer. Though she was on the other side of the venue, she seemed to glow. Her jaw was set, her face was chiseled, her eyes smoldered beneath a half-shell of heavy blue eye shadow. She was hispanic.

The mighty Etemesi never falls in love at first sight but this time it was different.   Suddenly, the two girls I had been talking to seemed insignificant. She dwarfed them with her style and poise

There was just but one problem

And that problem still exists until now. The problem is that none of the events above are actually true and i am just fantasizing about all this here at my seat at the office. Shiet!!!!

In 2014, Lupita took over Tinsel town with her moving depiction of Patsey, a slave in critically acclaimed movie ‘12 Years a Slave’.

As she prepares to release ‘Jungle book’ and is currently riding high on her fresh release, release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens an epic space opera film, another Kenyan is winning over the world.

Her name is Belinda Owino and she is part of Quinten Tarantino’s ‘The Hateful Eight’ . Belinda is fortunate enough to star alongside other greats such as Samuel L Jackson and Kurt Russell. The Hateful Eight was released on Christmas Day and centers around a western tale of vengeance.

This is the second Quinten Tarantino Movie she has worked in after Django Unchained, so it means; Quinten must have really liked her acting.

Check out the jaber next:

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A woman purported to be a serial homewrecker had her dose of Karma served to her yesterday. Hot, brimming  and boiling from the cauldron. 

Hellen Aturinda woke up to see her photos on posters printed and hoisted along the streets warning her and beseeching her to stay away from person “x’s” husband. 

The poster went on to brand her a “homebreaker” with the letter “O” sensationally replaced by a glaring red heart. Below the tag was her crisp clear photo,  which was in turn reinforced by the harsh, cold cruel words “Leave my husband alone” 

It is not clear under what circumstances that the woman printed the said photos but the council speculates that she might have mastered her husbands lock screen pattern and chanced upon the home breaker when her husband slept. 

Maybe it is true what they intimate, that hell knows no fury than a woman scorned. 

Justice is served.

The stay at Panorama doesn’t take forever. Despite my very loud protests,we still have to eat that platter thing I told ya about that’s sold at this very exquisite hotel. Luckily,it’s super sweet and I actually am full. And so is everyone. Amon,I’m not so sure.

Oh,he didn’t swim. We stopped him from it. It’s 6.00pm now… We won’t be back to the Manera Farm till around 10.00pm or so. And so a plan had to be hatched quick! Where do we go from here?!

You see… We would’ve opted to stay at Panorama toll 10.00pm, but this Hoteli doesn’t sell alcohol. And the hippiest drinks they sell here is Delmonte. You can chow some bowl of ice-cream too if you’re so inclined. Or drown some supu ya Mbuzi. Well,we’re not White people who’ll take anything. Two,we didn’t come to Naivasha to gamble with our drinks.

Kate is still taking photos. And so is Miss B. Irari and his girl are already back in the car. Amon is teasing some really sexy waitress. And I am struggling to piece together the bill and pay it from the many denominations of money they’ve contributed at the table.

Goodbye Panorama Hotel…Naivasha is starting to have some life… You can start to feel the buzz now… You can start seeing more swanky cars driving around town. You can start seeing more young people,in different stages of drunkenness, allover the place. The local clubs are starting to come alive. Girls too,can be seen now. Oh,Girls Girls Girls!!! And the sunset has never looked more beautiful… Mark you,it’s 31st December! New Year’s Eve… The joy,thrill,excitement and anticipation can be felt in the air… The town’s now roaring back to life… And the night looks like it’s gonna be one helluva party.

We drive back to the Arizona Hotel I told ya about. Their meat was shit,alright but they have a bouncy nightclub adjacent to it… It’s well-stocked,has wonderful interior,comfy seats,nice lounge section,affordable prices,a bombastic DJ and some super gorgeous waitresses.

We invade the club and chose a table at the corner… It’s only 6.30pm and the club is almost full already. The DJ too is no mathafackin’ joke… He’s way too into the vibe. And the music he’s blaring is on anutha level. Pombe is Mia mbili here. And a Smirnoff Mzinga is like 2,000 Bob. Without further ado,we ask for a Smirnoff Mzinga.

Panorama Hotel Aerial View

‘Na ice cubes… Mlete ice cubes mooob! ‘ Kate orders.’Na charger? Mko na charger ya Android aki? ‘ Amon wonders.

In no time,the Mzinga’s already here. Time to blast our way through it… The ice cubes are here too. Stuffed into a fairly-sized metal bowl.

The place is filling up even more… And the girls,the girls… Are something else…

Time flies. And so it does in this case. Before we know it,it’s 9.50pm… And the Mzinga is gone. Miss B is having sausages. And Kate is on the dance floor.

By 10.10pm,we pay and leave the club…. Off to Marena Farm now!!! And let tha party begin!

Two hours ago,the roads were as smooth as a baby’s buttocks here in town. And now,traffuck has already started building up. There are all manner of cars now… All across the streets… Some are heading to some Lakeside Party hosted by DJ Hassan. Others are off to Crayfish Camp for the Shaffie Weru gig. And most are off to Marena Farm for Hakuna Matata. There are like 4 major New Year Events going down in this town alone. And you can imagine the vehicle-and human-traffic.

Somehow,we’re at the Junction. And the drive to Marena takes FO-RE-VER. And BOOM! Place is buzzing with all manner of activities. The entrance area itslef is like a party within a party. Too many cars parked here. Too much music blaring from ALL of these cars. Too many young people here. Too much cuddling and dancing next to open cars. Too much smoking. And definitely,a whole lot of drinking!

‘Habari yako Boss…? ‘some burly security guy says to me,leaning on my car and almost sinking it.’ Poa Poa Baba… Parking Iko ama?’ I ask.

I am asked to open my car boot. And asked to ask my pals to step out of the car….

‘Lazima tufanye ka-search kidogo Baba… Fungua gari… ‘

I do as told and these jamaas go through my stuff so meticulously. It’s like they’re admitting me into some G20 Summit in Geneva or something.

‘ Hii ni pombe?’ one of the security jamaas ask,holding up some beer can we’d forgotten we had. ‘Na hii pia?’ he adds,fishing out the remaining Flirt Vodka that we still had.

We are then told to maliza all that alcohol BEFORE we can be admitted into the venue. Come on now!!!

‘Wekeni gari pale… Mkimaliza mkuje… Ama uingize gari hawa wabaki huku wakimalizia hii pombe… ‘ I am told.

Sawa sawa.

Inside,Parking’s insane. Too many cars up in here. I can here some girl yelling herself across the stage. And the music is becoming louder now.

‘Cabu Gaaaaaaah ‘ I hear some girl scream. She’s in some car beside me… But I am top busy trying to find parking. And avoid all the madness. I don’t concentrate. And they drive off.

Miss B at the Panorama Hotel

My jamaaz have drowned all of the remaining pombe. And I can now see them tottering in,confused. Their tickets dangling from their necks like some Slavery-era compulsory tag.

We walk into the event and it’s now nearing 11.00pm. DJ Creme de la Creme,the Luscious Lyon of Sex tapes,is killing it on the decks…

The little girl whose yells I could hear from as far as North Carolina is actually Huddah Monroe,and she’s allover the stage,dressed like a tramp and acting like one. Prancing up and down,bending over way too much and appearing totally totally drunk. Girl even has a beer cup in hand… Which she won’t let go of for the rest of the night.

But she looks like a million bucks. And I bet that pussy tastes so too.

Huddah is the hypeman for the night. And that’s the start of great things.

The place is slowly filling up… And more and more and more…

Huddah’s whole belly is out. Her erect titties are so tight and prominent at this point now I am starting to see why those retired Italian Farmers like her.

She’s wearing some barely-there hotpants that’ve squeezed that gorgeous little ass into one sexy ball of nothing but human groceries.

DJ Creme won’t stop hyping up the crowd and asking us whether we’re feeling alright. He also won’t stop saying ‘They Call me The Creme de la Creme…’ and making all the girls go wild as they adjust their soiled panties.

Party is ooooonnnnn!!!!!!!!!!

The place is magnificent… There’s hundreds of little Christmas-esque lights dazzling from the skies held together from tent to tent. There are scores of guys chilling at the corners smoking sixteen kilos of Shisha per minute. And girls too. Suck it,Njoki Cheap,oops,Chege.

The stage itslef is a brilliant work of nothing but sheer excellence… The sound is so powerful it can topple a Democratically elected Government. And the DJs, who include DJ John Rabar of Homeboyz, Yes,the DJ John Rabar,are doing a tremendously amazing job.

The crowd is lit as a maafaka. More girls are pouring in. Miss B is shaking her little booty so hard I’m afraid it’ll fall off. Kate won’t stop making new drunk friends. Irari is still cuddling his girl and Amon wants us to go smoke Shisha.

The place is on FIIIIIRRRREEEEEE!!!!!

Khaligraph Jones is on stage now…. And it’s almost midnight…

It’s now 10 seconds from midnight…. 10 seconds away from a whole new Year!

Mr. Mbesha is off the stage now… Good job,by the way. Good performance he did.

The lights are off… The music goes down… No one’s talking and DJ Creme takes the mic… Time for the countdown…

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2…….1

It’s 2016!!! Crowds erupt in one thunderous applause!!! The cheers could be heard from as far Downtown Moscow.

There’s one disappointment though…. There are NO fireworks!!! No fuckin fireworks!! What nonsense!!!

No New Year’s Eve Party is ever complete without fireworks! Not one! I am deeply deeply disappointed and I wish I didn’t even come here.

Before long,Kagwe Mungai comes on stage. I don’t know who decided that this jamaa can entertain. His whole show is ABSOLUTE RUBBISH. Goats in my village can perform better if trained.

To start with,he looked like a recovering Transgender drug addict. And danced like one.

I didn’t hear one word he said and neither did anyone. I didn’t understand his songs too or why-and for whom-he even sings them.

Nigga forgets to sing his own songs now and starts performing some other random songs he’s gathered up from the top of his head. His whole show is a lesson on How NOT to perform.

It’s painful to watch him. And suicidal to hear him croak.

He takes a billion hours on stage…. I’ve never had my time wasted so much. By someone so undeserving.

But because God is good,and hears the cries of His people,Kagwe Mungai steps off stage. What a relief! Not just for me but for the whole populace scattered allover Manera Farm. Horror is real people. It’s real.

And after an hour of DJ mixes and much EDM, It’s time for the KING OF THE NIGHT! PATORANKING!

Naija Superstar Patoranking on stage

For those not in the know,Patoranking is that ka-Nigerian guy who did the smash hit ‘My Woman,My Everything’ and a few other songs that we all don’t remember by now.

DJ Creme welcomes the King of the Night on stage and it’s FIIIIIRRRREEEEEE!

His appearance drives the whole place wild. Girls scream themselves insane. Everyone whips out their phones to record his majestic entrance on stage… People fall over each other and almost demolish the stands erected to keep crowds away. Security is experiencing a nightmare. Girls flock to the front in their hundreds as some other 20 girls or so pour onto the stage to hug and love and get naked for Mr. Patoranking.

Naija guy gives a killer show… Dressed in some red attire and feminine strap shoes that he later gives to some weird ugly bitch who wouldn’t just leave the stage and go to hell or somewhere.

After performing a string of songs we largely didn’t know,he launches into My Woman,My Everything and again,the whole place erupts in cheers and excitement.

Huddah Monroe even stops nursing her headaches and pounces back on stage to give him the booty dance of the Year.

More and more girls have filled the stage now… Patoranking cannot even move in peace… Huddah Monroe is bending that ass over so hard I almost heard her spine snap.

Everyone is stepping on me. I can’t see Miss B. Kate got lost three hours ago. I am sure Amon is f**kin someone in my car and the Irari couple can be seen taking videos from a corner.

It’s 3.00am…It’s cold and crowded. I am drunk and tired and hungry.

‘Cabu Gaaahhhh’ the same girl who was screaming my name earlier has finally found me.

I turn around and hug her so tight I guess I fractured her ribs….

‘Who are you with? ‘I ask…

‘Some pals… But wameenda Naivasha tao… Wanakam… ‘

‘So you’re currently on your OWN here?’ I ask,my Team Mafisi Membership card coming out.

‘Yeah… ‘ she answers drunkenly. 
‘Can we go chill in my car…?’ I ask…

‘Sure… Why not!? ‘

Ladies and gentlemen,I’m about to start my Year…In someone…..

 

 

(Check Out Some More Pics on the Next Page)

 

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My mother’s greatest desire has been for one of her sons to marry a nurse. She’s a retired nurse herself so that quite explains it. Unfortunately all of my brothers have defied mama’s wish and proceeded to marry women from other professions. I am the only one left, because i am the last among male siblings in our family and in as much as i interact with hundreds of women, the gods have conspired to keep me away from nurses. Most female medical personnel that i meet are either in serious relationships or married. So if you are a nurse out there who can handle my stupidity, holla at me and lets make mama proud. Qualifications? You must be short, extremely pretty and good at sucking the ‘D’. Plus we wont get married now. Let’s say in four years time because i still have to sample some more c*nt.

Onto serious business now. If you are looking for a wife, what career fields should you hunt in? Here are the best ones

Primary school teacher

I repeat……primary school teacher. Not secondary. Primary school teachers love children. They take good care of them. They are not the type to go clubbing and leave their children watching explicit soap operas with the horny mboch. Secondary school teachers are too stressed out from dealing with adolescent teenagers so they wont properly service your manly needs at home. Primary school teachers on the other hand are feminine, nurturing, selfless and most importantly blessedly cheap to maintain. Primo teachers don’t make much mulla so your financial status will always be above hers, guaranteeing a long and healthy relationship.

Stripper

The success of a marriage comes down to two important things – sex and money. Unhappiness always fills in where one of those lacks. Strippers are champions of earth shattering sex. They pin you down and make you cum to your last drop. And before that, you get a free show. The only major drawback is that you might have to share her. I wouldn’t advise you to go this route if you are the jealous type. Money wont be a problem either. She can take care of herself

Mboch

Maids are submissive. They ambitiously pursue domestic glory, not material goals or oneupsmanship, so status competition with them will be minimal. Mboches are focussed on developing a home. They are also used to taking orders so they will simply do as you say. There’ll be no instances where you say this and she says that.

A mboch has spent most of her life taking care of children so she already knows how to be a great mom and caretaker. She’s patient, wise, and unconditionally loves the people she calls family.

Nurses.

Nurses are loyal. They generally try not to fuck around so much because they understand the risks. They understand that guys are not enthusiastic about marrying women whose vaginas have played host to numerous cocks before them. They also understand that Kenyan men are coy when it comes to taking responsibility of babies. So they always insist on using protection

Another important point worth noting is that nurses are used to caring for patients. This act of service becomes ingrained in their DNA with time hence they end up caring for everyone else around them. Your nurse wife will show concern to your needs as well as those of your la familia at large. Furthermore your health condition will never deteriorate since you’ll be forced to live a healthy lifestyle

Mama mboga

The biggest advantage of wifing a mama mboga is the obvious fact that there’ll always be food on your table no matter how broke you are. You wont be getting those anger-laden calls of ‘Baba Johnny mbona hukuacha pesa ya nyanya na sukuma?’. Your wife will always steal two or three leaves out of her spinach bunch and cook.

Self employed women

Such women either posses crisp business acumen or they had a hardship in life that turned them into survivors. They found their way out and they’re finally creating a life for themselves. They’ve had to fight hard for everything they’ve had in life and because of that they’re independent and expect nothing but true equality in a relationship. They don’t need a man, or anyone else, taking care of them, but when they’re in a relationship they really give it their all.

M-PESA attendant

She is really really faithful. She writes down so many phone numbers of men yet she never calls any of them. An m-pesa attendant can beat any temptation.

Chef/cook

If her job is cooking, wife her my brother. Whether she cooks at a kibanda or at Sarova Stanley doesn’t matter. Just wife her. A good meal satisfies a man’s soul. Not to forget that we are currently in a society where girls are experts at lighting up shisha pots but fumblers at lighting up jikos.

Having a wife who is excellent at preparing meals also helps you gain societal respect. When visitors come to your house, they leave with endless words of praise upon mouth, thus creating a good name fo

r your family.

Accountant

They say when you decide to marry, then let your bride be a woman who’ll shield you from the sharp sword of brokeness and poverty. An accountant is used monitoring every single penny that foes in and comes out. The books must balance both at work and in the family

Model

A beautiful wife is a man’s most priced possession. Other men will respect you and hold you in high regard. Models don’t eat much too so your food budget will not be that high

Good luck and……………

Invite me to your wedding

I don’t know where you spent your New Year’s Eve but I can bet it wasn’t half as insane as mine was. Not unless you were in Dubai and the Luxury Hotel you had booked into was the one that caught fire spiraling up into your room,then my New Year’s Eve was the most fire.

I wasn’t even supposed to go to Naivasha for New Year’s. Last year I traveled to Machakos People’s Park for my New Year’s Eve festivities but it wasn’t quite all it had been billed to be. Half of the night featured a very self-obsessed Governor Mutua giving speeches that no one bothered about. And the other half was spent dancing ourselves lame on those very cold Stadium stands,with lame music and even lamer DJs and a probably inebriated hypeman who screamed the whole night down.

I had a constant feeling that the Naivasha trip would be a waste of time and I had misgivings about traveling all the way. Plus I’d heard enough stories about the idiocy of some of these NTSA busy bodies who had now suddenly gone rogue and had started to all of a sudden conjure up the most bizarre and downright archaic road laws ever. I wasn’t in a mood for some little silly argument with a third-rate NTSA official intent on milking me dry for his own wicked gratification. But after much convincing,Naivasha it is!

Safari started at around noon. But I was up at 8 just getting ready,taking my Lamborghini to the car wash and having to pick up Amon Wanjohi a KTN actor from one of the very thin and congested streets of Kahawa Wendani. I was still to pick up yet another Tony Irari at Kikuyu at around 11.30am after which we’d drive down to Naivasha early to avoid traffuck.

I get to some ka-place called Gitaru past the Kikuyu Junction and we have to wait to Irari for almost half and hour. And while waiting,we have to contend with impatient touts,loud buses,lots of market fare and drunk blokes hawking sliced sugar cane.

Iran,sorry, Irari shows up finally,squeezing himself through some lean path between two vibandas,his girlfriend in tow. I want to lecture him on the merits of punctuality but I don’t have the time. Soon as he’s settled himself into the car,gently ushering his girl in too,I drive off.

Miss B is by my side… Taking Four Cousins,a sort of sweet wine that she won’t stop swigging.

Amon had bought some Flirt Vodka at Nakumatt Kahawa Wendani and some very large party cups two of which he’d already wrecked by crumbling them for lack of a better thing to do with this gleefulness. The Vodka’s placed across my cahir…And,oh,we are planning to reeaaaaally spend alot in Naivasha. Maybe 20k or something. And I take a quick photo of some of the cash I have on hand. #SteveMbogoManenos Haha.

I am onto some Flirt Vodka too. Irari shows up armed with a million Heineken cans that he won’t stop swallowing… His girl is dangling a drink I’d never seen or heard of. And after one taste of it,I want to cough my tongue out. And a few other internal organs.

‘Tunahitaji kubuy soda… ‘ Amon announces,pouring a very generous amount of vodka into his cup.`Hakuna shops hapa karibu? Ama suupa?’

Barely have we driven for half a kilometer before we’re stopped by some very eager traffuck police. ‘Wekeni Seat Belt’ Miss B announces as she struggled to turn down the music volume in the car.

I shut down the radio altogether and quickly throw across the seat belt,strapping it into place and removing my sunglasses.

The cop guy walks up to my window and asks for my Driving License. I rummage around for it and find it under my balls. I hand it over as I sit back wondering how will I effectively hide the plastic cup that’s very poorly hidden beneath my legs.

Without returning my DL,the cop fellow walks over to the Insurance section to check the validity of my Insurance. Nothing to rave about. Poor guy.

He now peers into the car to try and find fault,we allow him,his chunky head almost pouring into the car. My guys at the back are acting all sober and godly. I start I even heard one salute the cop thus, ‘Bwana Asifiwe Afande’.

You DO NOT say Bwana Asifiwe Afande. Doesn’t matter how scared you are or how guilty you epically are. You do NOT say Bwana Asifiwe Afande. That’s the clearest way to announce ‘I am Guilty. Arrest Me Askari…’

Anyway,the cop guy reluctantly returns my DL and wishes us a safe journey. We wish him a safe journey too. But then we remembered he wasn’t going anywhere.

Amon laughs like the historical prick he truly is. ‘Simama hapo Mbele…. Kuna shops… Tubuy soda…’ Irari blurts amid the loud noise in the car.

I park at some sleepy market flooded with avocado traders and potato farmers. Amon walks over and comes back in a minute,dragging along two 2-litre Coca Cola bottles with him.

I remember I am supposed to pick some other girl in or around Limuru. And it’s now time to pick the damsel up. I call her and she asks me to wait up for her somewhere around the ‘Flyover’. Crap.

We stay around the Flyover for sixteen hours and this girl won’t show up. Just when we’ve given up all hope and expended all our patience,she shows up,dressed like an ISIS recruit. Her makeup is so heavy you see her choking under its weight. Her hair’s thrown around in the wildest hairstyle ever invented and I didn’t have a name yet for what she I’d wearing. Half of her tummy was out. Half of her butt was out too. And her titties were basically pouring out. She has a gold clutch bag and a fur coat that she’s dangling on her dainty hands. Her shoes are so high she’d lease them as ladders to construction workers.

 

Her red lipstick is so loud and prominent you can see it from Costa Rica. And her red nail polish reminds you of an Italian Dominatrix.

‘Aki poleni! ‘she purrs.’ Hi guuyyyssss… ‘ she coos.

‘Get in the car,Bitch! And shut the fuck up!’ I am thinking to myself.

She shoves herself into the car and sits on Amon. Oh Amon. How blessed art thou.

Beer’s almost running out. Miss B has already drowned a whole Four Cousins bottle. Amon wants the music to be louder. In fact he wants to play HIS music. Irari is still very squeezed and lost in the World of endless Heinekens to think straight. His gril is still struggling to finish the bitter thing I told you she came with. The new girl won’t stop talking mad wondering why we don’t have Red Label. And I am multi-tasking between eating crisps, driving,handling my vodka cup that keeps pouring it’s contents on me and trying to answer the very many questions our new girl has. Damn,she even asks me my top twenty 2015 moments. And also asked me what I think of Hillary Clinton and the 6 things I think she should do to salvage her floundering campaign. Jesus! I’m driving,Bitch!

‘Tusimame Kinungi tupige picha… ‘ Miss B announces,readying her phone and whipping out her sunglasses. Everyone agrees and at Kinungi we stop.

Kinungi is that little area on your way to Naivasha where they sell Maasai shukas,local ornaments and all manner of Samburu embroidery… It’s also the picturesque place from where you can clearly start seeing the breathtaking Rift Valley escarpments,valleys and beautiful mist-ridden Hills.

Photo session takes a billion hours. We even ask the guys selling stuff around there to take photos of us. And their photo-taking skills are as poor as the guy who is managing Ben Carson’s campaign. Some other fellow walks up to my car to try and sell me rabbits. Rabbits!!! Listen up,Partner… I am on my way to Naivasha to spend a while night under the sky. There’s no way I want to bring along a rabbit with me. Or any other animal for that matter.

Soon after,some other guys traveling in a Mazda Demio join us and park next to us. They’re here for some photo quickies too… And some other rowdy gang joins us. And another and another.

Done with the photography,and a little bit of noise making,it’s time to hop into the car and drive off…

Once we’re all in the car,we soon realize someone’s missing… Miss B. Turns out that she’d been asked by the other jamaaz to join them in their photos and she was still at some corner with them,posing with them and smiling for photos with them. Oh,come on now!

The remaining part of the journey is short and uneventful… And before we know it,we’re at the Naivasha town Junction. There’s a battalion of cops waiting there,with huge spikes thrown across the road and signs erected announcing ‘STOP! POLICE CHECK’

We don’t stop. And we’re not stopped. Thank you Jesus! The drive off to Manera Farm takes less than 10 minutes. Aaaaand we are Heeereee!!! Finally!!!!

The guys in a green Mazda Demio were behind us all the way to Manera farm and soon as we park our car around some grassy area,they Park next to us too… And pour out,yelling and cursing,delicately holding onto their beer cans and cups and what have you. One of their girls has been smoking for the last fourteen weeks… And she now walks up to us asking ‘Who wants a joint?’

The music from their ka-Mazda Demio is soo loud you can see the little car almost giving up on life.

Manera Farm is a beehive of activities… There are teams of busy chaps around the entrance either working on the ticketing or the gate or the pathways to the event itself. Some mama from Jack Daniels wants to start a conversation with me but I am too tired to care. Irari is still in the car… Lying on his mama. Amon is chatting up the chain smoker from the Mazda Demio. Miss B is still taking photos, Kate,the Limuru girl,has disappeared in less than three minutes. And I badly want to pee.

After some jamaa hands us our tickoz,we decide to leave for Naivasha tao to kula nyama. Cos we’re as hungry as a million Syrian refugees..

 

The search for an eatery is surprisingly hectic. We’ve already driven TO Naivasha tao and for a town famous for nyama and farming lifestyles,it’s becoming incredibly hard to bump into a nice food joint that doesn’t,by the way,sell illicit meat.

Naivasha is notorious for slaughtering-and serving-any sort of meat. From Donkeys to Dogs to trapped Hippos and the last thing we want is to devour a meal that was organized by a bunch of drugged animal poachers.

And after driving around the little boring town,round and round,flagging down people to ask for excellent eating places,we find one joint named Arizona. Going by the name,we assume they’ve got super amazing nyam chom.

 

Kenyans have started the year by voting for the forceful removal of Tanzanians on the popular social media app Instagram. 

 According to Kenyan users of the app, Tanzanians have proven that they cannot use the app especially with the raunchy language and sexually explicit videos that they post on the app prompting the wrath of exasperated Kenyan users  who feel that the Tanzanians are giving  East Africa a bad name. 

The trend initially started with Xtian Dela whose post was removed on Instagram after it was found reeking of sexual innuendos posted by Tanzanians that he sensationally unfollowed after the incident. 

See below a snippet of the posts:

The accused are yet to retaliate or defend themselves from the onslaught of Kenyans who are seeking to clean Instagram off the Tanzanians.  

 

An exasperated man in Kirinyaga used a kitchen knife to sever of his manhood after all the women he had been tying to court  turned down his lofty advances. 

According to Citizen digital the man did not see the need to have an organ that no one was using, prompting him to do away with it once and for all. The man it is reported, went into his house and used a knife to cut it off, he then dashed outside  bleeding profusely. 

His immediate family and kinsmen took him to hospital with his manhood in a polythene bag where the doctors said that they were going to attempt to re-attach it. 

The man is currently recuperating at Kerugoya Level 4 Hospital. 

This is a first time that we’ve heard of a man taking the initiative to cut off his own ‘tree’ upon the realisation that it was not bearing fruits as opposed to other grave scenarios when women have had to do the procedure on their wayward husbands. 

The esteemed council wishes the frustrated lad a  speedy recovery, we hope that upon recovery, he will find himself a willing lass as God intended the world to be.

Eunice Leshunet was flogged like a stray dog by her husband shortly after declaring her interest in vying for the 2017 senatorial seat. 

 The mother of two was left with some bad bruises on her body and a black eye after the encounter with her husband who she says loves to have things done his way. 

It is not clear whether any action was taken against the man who brutally abused her even with the social media mass action calling for the arrest of the barbaric man who was trying to subjugate the wife by beating her into submission. 

The lady took to her Facebook where she wrote an update on the issue in part saying: “..This da brutality I got from man I called father to my kids after declaring my candidature for senatorial seat come 2017. I thank God am live n strong. This will not stop me from achieving my dreams. I need every one prayers…”

 With the update was a photo showing the brutality she went through.