The Softcopy of my third book “Enemy of Progress,” which has been “suspected” by experts to revive reading culture during these strange times, is finally out for only Kshs 300/=.
When feeling low, open it and read, and it will uplift your spirit and give you the energy to continue fighting for what’s rightfully yours!
Click the link. After filling in your details, you will receive a prompt to pay, and the PDF will download after payment.
Thanks a lot for the continued support!
Enjoy!
Enemy Of Progress: https://t.co/4gdXmKEavi
One of the most embarrassing moments kwa hii maisha ni ile time me and my Uncle tulipea lecture Kijana fulani wa nyumbani whom, in our heads, tuliona amepotea and had been “written off” by society.
We had summoned him hapo Club Tunnel to give him a dressing down and advice on several ways to get on the right track. The young man looked emotional, akiwa ameinamisha kichwa kwa meza, full of what we deduced was “regrets” for taking the road less traveled.
Immediately, Jomba wangu akanikanyaga mguu chini ya meza and winked at me; a special gesture niingie kwa simu and check our secret WhatsApp group where we share “intel.” Kuangalia, nikapata ameandika in Marakwet, “Kikuchus Cheptipi” (we have captured the jackal).
I started laughing inwardly, but some tears started forming in my left eye. Nikaomba waitress serviette and started wiping them away, pretending to be heartbroken and putting myself in his shoes, nikisema, “Ngwan keroti kupetsot Vijana, ama mi chi nyi mwoe kiy.” (It’s painful seeing the youth wakipotea yet nobody is saying anything.
After a while, the young man signaled the waitress using non-verbal cues tunatoka kidogo atuchungie meza. We celebrated prematurely, tukajiambia in low tones as we followed the “wayward man” anataka kutupeleka nje, away from the drunken crowd, to wail openly mbona hataki kufuata “procedure” ya maisha.
Once outside, we followed him silently, then without warning; he pulled out what looked like car keys and pressed a button; suddenly, a black Toyota Prado lit up with hazard lights.
My rickety Toyota 110, which I had used to pick up my Uncle in Syokimau, was parked just a few meters away from the fuel guzzler. Kitu ingine kama mild paralysis ikanichapa; nikajishikilia kwa drums zingine near the entrance. I nearly tipped over, but luckily my uncle held me and reassured me, “Meimkei, driver nyipo mHeshimiwa araket.” (Don’t stress yourself; the fool ni personal chauffeur wa Mkubwa.”
Kijana akaingia gari, akapiga start, then akashuka na akasema the road warrior ni yake. We were in denial, so as we pretended to circle the car, kicking the humongous tires in admiration, I secretly called my confidant who works at the border and has direct access to NTSA systems to check the vehicle’s details. He confirmed, indeed, the boy ako top 30 under 30.
We walked back into the club in silence, and for the rest of the night we drank in deep thought, questioning our lives and whether we worship the same true God of Israel.
We took turns going to the washroom kulia, kutoa hasira, na kuosha uso kwa sink kuficha emotions before returning to the table to entertain and “worship” the “big man.”
I pity watu bado wanatafuta in the entertainment industry because hapa mbele mambo inaenda kuchemka. There is a new wave of “Cleavage DJs” who have hit the industry, and they are not taking any prisoners. Ilianza na South Africa, but saa hii, Wasichana wa Nyumbani are not afraid to take over the decks, mixing songs with nothing but a bra, with the melons pointing directly at drunk, vulnerable ravellers.
New in the scene ni warembo wengine wawili wanajiita “Twin Tribe Ke,” and as we speak, they are booked hadi end of this year, Yesu akizaliwa. They are known to move around with a bevy of beauties who shout words of affirmation from the sidelines as they take their fans to “cloud 9.”
Their “ringleader” is a beauty to die for, na kwa hii mix; ni huyo ako far left na amevaa kitu Gen Z huita “doll bag.”
Anyiny, Lakwet Kabillet!
https://t.co/OUapCr81jR
Marriages za siku hizi, kama huna “shock absorbers” huwezi toboa, juu any minute, unaweza pewa “Breaking News.” Your ambitious wife wa hii generation ya Gen Z—mwenye ulijinyakulia after kuchelewa kuoa— “from nowhere” anaanza fitness journey.
Then in a few months, after regaining her hourglass figure na kupunguza mafuta ya uso, one fine morning before aingie her corporate job, without warning, anakuangushia Bombshell: since umeamua kunonea chini, you are no longer her type.