No entiendo cómo puede ser. Vi a Michael Jackson morir, a Maradona morir, a Pelé morir, a la reina Isabel morir; vi pasar a tres papas. Sobreviví a una pandemia, vi el comienzo de internet. Vi el CD cambiar a Spotify, vi cambiar el DVD a Netflix, vi pasar del teléfono fijo a un iPhone. Y estoy viendo el surgimiento de la IA. Y solo tengo 30 años.
From today, I pledge my support to Arsenal. I'm officially a Gunner!❤️I love the attitude and composure of Arsenal fans. I don't see them online insulting their players. They are loyal to their team no matter the circumstances, that's a fanclub that aligns with my principles! Next season, we go harder! ❤️
Gents, five thousand kwacha is enough for a meal daily at work. You are not in a contest with slay queens from poor families. Eat your meal, go back to work. Stop competing with old men who started receiving salaries in 1972 before you were born!
I had a mesho in college who had a habit of becoming born again now and again, especially close to exams or whenever he was chasing one of those holy holy girls. Suddenly he would stop drinking, start dressing properly, speaking softly and quoting Bible verses like a pastor’s apprentice. He would avoid me and my drunkard friends like we carried demons. But whenever he relapsed back into our sinful ways, he would immediately come looking for me and my drinking sprees. And when drunk, he loved screaming obscenities at the top of his voice in the middle of the night like a mad prophet.
So as usual, he became born again because of a certain premed girl he was interested in. He dressed decently, stayed sober and avoided my company completely. This time around it lasted so long that I genuinely thought perhaps the Lord had finally captured him for good. Then one night, while I was watching a series, I heard someone outside screaming obscenities. The voice sounded painfully familiar. Moments later, a friend knocked and said, “You need to go get your mesho. He is outside someone’s room causing chaos.” I rushed there and found him completely wasted. He was standing outside the room of a certain guy we called Atsogo. Atsogo was the spiritual father of the premed girl my mesho had been pursuing. The corridor was crowded. Doors were slightly open. People were peeping from inside rooms enjoying the drama.The moment my mesho saw me he pointed and shouted, “Nawenso mesho ma*** ako. Nawenso sumafuna ndigwire mwana yu!”
The premed girl was there too, crying and begging him to leave Atsogo alone.Apparently, after months of pursuing her, escorting her to church and behaving like a redeemed man, she had finally told him, “I am sorry, but I cannot date you. My spiritual father had a vision and says he sees no future between us. So you must stop talking to me and stop coming to church with me.” So naturally, he went to drink and came looking for Atsogo. He kept screaming, “Atsogo, I know your intentions you horny bastard! You want this girl. Come out and face me idiot!”
After trying to calm him down failed, I simply grabbed him and dragged him back to the room. He kept shouting nonsense the entire way back. The moment he hit the bed, he passed out within https://t.co/hrnAf7HJJW the weeks that followed, Atsogo indeed started dating the girl. This infuriated my mesho even further. Although he had stayed sober for a while after the incident, hearing that news pushed him straight back into https://t.co/pYnyqJwr7m night he got drunk again, he walked through the corridors loudly describing the anatomy of the girl’s hidden parts in disturbing detail. He kept saying Atsogo was eating what he had already eaten and discarded. He even nicknamed him “Neneli Onyenga.” Yet the truth was my mesho had not even kissed the girl. The next day, the girl came crying to our room begging him to tell people the truth because the rumours had ruined her relationship with Atsogo. My mesho told her he could indeed correct the story, but to do so he needed courage, and courage only came through alcohol. Therefore she had to buy him a full crate of Green.
The girl believed him and sent him money for a whole crate and some extra money.That night, after finishing almost the entire crate, my mesho staggered through the corridors again screaming, “Atsogo, she came to my room again. I ate her again and she gave me money to drink to express her gratitude towards my good performance!”
One thing I like about time is that it exposes intentions hidden in kindness. With time, the masks slip, and it slowly reveals if they truly valued you or if they just enjoyed the access to you.