Sunday, October 25, 2020

Two Thieves

Unapata pesa kidogo, ushaanza kuita jeraha wound. Wadau, let us reason together. Nikiita jeraha wound, ni wewe nimeita, huh? Kama ni kuitwa ndio unataka, niongezee hela uone! Hata maharagwe sura mbaya huitwa *Phaseolus Vulgaris* na mbogi imeshika pesa. 

Money can never be the cause of all evil. The *love* of money is the cause of all evil. People don't have the courage to admit that they are having trouble separating the two. Money, and the *love of money* sound the same to everyone. 

My mentor's business partner had cancer [her days were numbered]. She asked to see both her lawyer and accountant at her deathbed. They had a lengthy conversation. She tried to hide her pain; it wasn't worth the effort. The experience was similar to looking at a politician trying to hide their lies and fake promises. 

During her final moments, she asked the accountant to hold her right hand while the lawyer gripped what was left. She stared at the lawyer grasping her left hand and muttered, "I didn't expect to die like Christ Jesus, between two thieves!" 

After she was laid to rest, her children asked, "How much did she leave behind?"

"Everything!" The lawyer replied, "May her soul rest in pageantry." 

You cannot hate a thief you are blessing. Blessing is the key to resolving unforgiveness. Pronounce a blessing over your frenemies. 

Since love is the only language that is stronger than hate, let us agree to disagree agreeably that *the love of money* can never be stronger than the hate for greed. 

Speaking of greed: Are lawyers greedy? All I know is they are like ketchup bottles. Sometimes, our learned friends need a good spanking at the bottom to get things moving. 

It's good to think about the length of eternity and the shortness of this life. So many folks are hurting around the world. When they act bad, you'll notice they did it out of their pain. 

Cursing the pain is a fruitless move. The lessons learned from making a bad move tend to stick forever like the lies in Lucifer's lips. Listen, instead of cursing the darkness, why don't you put on the light? The public needs the hope that you have to offer. 

Putting on the light is an act of faith. You can't have faith if you don't have hope --- first! Faith just sees where the unbeliever is blind. If you don't love light, the cheque won't correct your blindness. 

You don't have to be perfect to begin offering hope. You just need to place your hand where the switch is, and put on the light. I know you are having a hard time believing that it's the imperfect stuff that make things perfect. Well, believe it! 

Friday, October 2, 2020


Wanaokudharau siku moja watakusalimia kwa heshima [a famous East African hymn]. Since we are living in unprecedented times, Anticovid devotees are no longer interested in handshakes. I think that is just another way of saying, 'Achari is disgusting!' Apenjiii, unadharau maembe imeomoka? 

You know Achari is the Vera Sidika among mangoes. There's this transition a mango goes through before it becomes Achari --- troublesome! I know it's not  comparable to the pressure that the most hardest stone in the world goes through in order to become diamonds. Interestingly, when you are looking for something to eat, all you want --- at that exact moment --- is something to eat. Fisi kala Achari. Wapenda dhahabu mtakula nini? 

A story is told about an entrepreneurial father from Dodoland. His only son was such a schmuck. Apparently nothing makes a silly billy smarter than being a grandson. 

"The only real substitute for wisdom is silence," his grandpa continually reminded him. "If you want to be thought wise, then keep your mouth shut." 

There's an exception. Drunkards can substitute wisdom for idiot-proof pickup lines. I am sure that is not different from a Pussypreneur substituting Achari for a squishy banana; they are such picky eaters. You never really know the value of staying sober until you ask Caroline Mutoko, 'Kamba ladies, hii utamu yote mnatoanga wapi?' 

Nevertheless, it's much easier for Pascal Tokodi to be president than convince an Acharipreneur to comment on their Pussypreneurial partners. Commenting is bad for business. Acharipreneurs have perfected the art of minding their own business. That's how the father from Dodoland earned his networking name --- Embeman! 

All of his networks new him as Embeman. The fellow could spot a depressed mango from a distance. He didn't stop there; he saw who they could become. Embeman led those mangoes from depression to Achari. He gave them a new identity, but failed to do the same for his stupid son. 

There's this particular Thursday Embeman took his son to the marketplace. Everything went well, until circumstances forced him to take a leak. Before excusing himself, Embeman sternly warned his son not to say a word. 

Big opportunities have a tendency to appearing when the prepared party is absent. Just look at Arsenal Football Club. They won the FA Cup while Manchester United players were washing their hands; twenty seconds caused United fans to be labelled losers. Those folks encouraging us to wash hands for twenty seconds are all Arsenal fans --- I swear! And one of them just appeared to talk to Embeman's son. 

"How much?" She asked, "I want to purchase the whole inventory." 

The boy kept quiet. He didn't say a word. 

"Jambo!" She tried to be polite, "How much? Nataka mali yote." 

The young fellow still did not say a word. 

"Are you kind of foolish?" 

No answer. The boy just stared at the tourist, his eyes fixated on her Visit Rwanda --- Arsenal FC --- face mask. Those eyes told a story. Soccer fans could easily conclude that Embeman's son resembled a Barcelona resident that had just met an individual wearing FC Bayern Munich jersey. A perfect recipe for Bella Ciao fantasies. 

"Wow!" The tourist added, "Your foolishness is really a pain in the heart."

Embeman returned from taking a leak and found his son standing alone. The little boy's body language was similar to that of a hustler from Jua Kali who perpetually chose campaigning over handshake. 

"Son!" Embeman held his shoulders, "Did you make a sale?" 

"Papa, I didn't say a word, but they found out I was a fool anyway." 

There comes a time to open your lips. Being silent doesn't mean you'll never be thought as a fool. Do you remember Eve? She talked back to the snake, and now we are all in trouble.

Wakurugenzi, when the serpent talks, never talk back. Reke Nemwo! 

Tuesday, September 29, 2020


Same stories. Same theme. Same lessons. It's boring like using the word same three times instead of choosing its thesaurus. 

The writer looks at a Randon trailer to get inspired, but life serves him hunger pains and bitter thoughts. I guess when Biko Zulu says that "Everything is a story" it's not a one-size-fits-all philosophy. 

Anyway, the world doesn't owe me anything.  I feel very bitter about my current casual job. Blaming my team leaders makes it hard for me to see the blessing in the pain. 

Blaming is easy. It's not helping to resolve my issues. I am investing my time; I want returns on my investment. Blaming is comparable to showing the middle finger to ROI. 

Truth be told, my mindset is crappy. They don't provide transportation when I am involved in the organization's operations [I move around a lot]. At the beginning, data bundles and phone calls expenses were recorded under my balance sheet [not the company's balance sheet]. 

When I am part of the company's operations, then transportation and top-up should be recorded under the organization's balance sheet. The truth is rarely told; no one cares. People are focused on solving bigger problems, not petty issues such as which balance sheet should record transportation and phone call expenses. 

It's okay to keep your own books [as an individual]. I have a journal entry --- who cares? I am not the only one who uses his own fare when participating in company operations. Did the Team Leader die because I used my own money to make phone calls? 


Dying is overrated. I get depression fantasies every time I look at my personal accounting journal. It's a stupid recipe for creating a suicide note. Killing myself is not a decision I can make. My creator decides when it's time for me to go home.

Abba Father, this is me  being petty online. Petty cash from my team leader might keep my pettiness away. You know what they say, your thoughts are higher than my thoughts. Abba Father, you always solve things differently because your thinking is different from my thinking.

My aim has always been to write stories that teach, but this post is focused on boredom. I get bored when reading my own stories. Boredom has been chasing me more than my team leader chases diligence. 

Problems are everywhere. They will always be present. Now is the time for me to learn the art of seeing the blessing in the pain. It's very easy to write a boring story. It's just similar to denying that Ruto is not a hustler. 

Saturday, August 15, 2020


Someone told me --- just a while ago --- that short girls are much the same to pubic hair. "Wana roho mbaya sana," she argued.  "Roho zao chafu kwa sababu ziko karibu na matako!" [Their heart is evil because it's close to the buttocks]. 

Well, this is a clear sign that she's broken. When someone is tearing you down, they are broken (that's a tweet from Gary Vee). 

Now, tweets are comparable to 'muktasari wa habari kutoka Radio Taifa.' They are shorter than the time you'll spend to cancel auto-correct when keyboarding 'ooooolikuwa wapi!' [Where were you?]. The shorter the tweet, the more it will be totally unrelated to getting a re-tweet. 

Occasionally, I receive a *recommended for you* tweet. Those occasions happen repeatedly (I bet more than a 'Mutura' handler washes his hands). A recent recommended tweet got me --- really! 

The lady [let me call her Malkia] tweeted about visiting a friend. They had a brief chit-chat, then Malkia left. I understand you know the things Kenyan ladies talk about. Honestly, I don't --- maybe those things exist in the eons. All I know is they neither talk about Blackburn Rovers nor the reason why science books have to be revised continually. 

Speaking of science, it's fascinating to see all the evidence that proves facts change. When my dad was born, the earth was two billion years old. During my birth, the earth was twelve billion years old --- but my dad was not that old. Theoretically, that was supposed to make my dad ten billion years old. Facts change; truth doesn't. 

Back to Malkia's tweet: Something unexpected happened. She forgot her smartphone at her friend's house. When Malkia went back to pick it, she overheard her friend saying, "Imagine hako kasichana karembo hivyo kako na cancer!" [That immense beauty has cancer].       

Better to be a listener than a talker; we don't regret what we did not say. Do you remember Zechariah? What about John The Baptist? If you keep your mouth shut for nine months --- I promise you --- your life will be so much better. 

"Awww, my precious," sympathized Malkia's guardian angel. "Just pick your phone and leave!" 

So, Malkia went inside her friend's house, pretending she did not take notice of the flat-out nonsense. You know the way Diana pretends she didn't hear Bahati's song --- baaas! Halafu kuna ile verse Rick Ross alichora kwa ile song inaitwa Beautiful Onyinye: 

''We talking money all you talk is nonsense---''

My pal's pastor just reminded me that we don't need more dollars; we need more sense. Sawa pastor, nimesikia. But I must add that Malkia immediately picked her smartphone and left. Sina sadaka --- mtumishi! 

True friendship places so much value on the things that are meant to be hidden in the *do not tell* file. Those things are beyond what the security authorities call classified. The *do not tell* file carries information that ranks up there with the confession uttered to a Roman Catholic clergy in the confession box. You can’t declassify that confession. 

We get a false sense of belonging when we participate in uncovering whatever is placed in the *do not tell* file. The damage this uncovering causes is infinite. Every time we expose, it becomes much harder to let what belongs in the *do not tell* file stay in the *do not tell* file. 

We need the wisdom to differentiate between being a mute and keeping our mouths shut. Some issues need to be brought to light so that the responsible party is challenged to come up with resolutions where it seems there are none. Balance is essential; it helps you discern when keeping your mouth shut brings both value and sanity. It's like parents and children. The latter cannot exist without the former. 

Do you have any idea how it feels to see procrastination steal your dreams and watch them perish in front of you? That's the same feeling you evoke when folks start avoiding you because they've observed --- you can't fight the urge to declassify. It's an unpleasant experience to notice that the more we speak, the more we discover words we wish we had never said.

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

The Trio

Dutch, the Netherlands, and Holland. Pain, problems, and sufferings. Did you get the drift? Never mind! 

Confusion has a tendency to making things complicated very fast. Your teacher, or mentor, might force you to say, "If Kantai can tie a tie, why can't I tie a tie like Kantai?" 

"I don't care!" The mind protests, "Who told you I want to tie a tie?" 

I heard a story about a prissy rabbi on his deathbed. Only three students were allowed to see him. The room could accommodate five people max: The trio, the dying rabbi, and silence. 

The trio was both receptive and curious. Silence was a vigilant fellow, while the dying rabbi was inattentive. Sometimes a near-death experience makes you particularly dull and negligent. 

"Rabbi!" One of the students exclaimed, "Give us your final thought of life." 

There was no room for words. What he just did was similar to persuading catholic bishops to normalize abortion. If you are lucky, the clergy will perpetually remember you in their prayers. Some may indirectly include you in the homily, "Brethren, there is only one solution to abortion --- give birth!" 

The rabbi whispered, "Life is like a river." 

Silence was shocked. She was just beginning to experience the pain Hillary Clinton encountered when the system gave Trumpence to the Americans. It's a no-brainer that Lady Gaga was right when she sang, 'You don't know how it feels until it happens to you.'  

The trio gave that prissy rabbi the Kenyan look. You know that look you give government leaders when you hear that they use loans from World Bank to purchase donations of PPEs from Jack Ma. I call it the mother-in-law look. It provokes you to commit matricide, wallahi! 

"Explain yourself rabbi," the eldest among the students demanded. 

Another one added, "Life is like a river! What did you mean?"

"Maybe life is not like a river," the dying rabbi replied. 

A teacher, an advisor, or mentor will knowingly hand you lemons after you've spent a tremendous amount of money on the online masterclass. It's like getting masturbatory fantasies instead of coitus. You don't have to make lemonade [that is, if you are broke]. Where will you get the money to buy sugar? Just shut up and eat the lemons! 

A creative legend once declared that pain is inevitable, and suffering is optional. I have the full right in creativity to record in my own content that a problem is the tongue twister. It just distracts you from focusing on what really matters ---  the solution! 

Joel Osteen likes to assert that the solution was present even before the problem began. We can all relate, especially men who possess a six-pack covered with a layer of fat. It's difficult to admit that the layer of fat is the problem. Do you agree that Ruto will never be president?

Waona! [You see] That's the problem! 

Your opinion is like a face mask. We only take it seriously when we see the authorities. I watched Les Brown on TV saying that when life knocks you down, make sure you land on your back because if you can look up, then you can get up. I have no issues with landing on your back; it is the making sure part that is troublesome. It depicts suffocation that forces you to suffer silently in order to avoid getting caught. 

There's this song that talks about everyone having trouble, and when you worry you make it double. Dare to worry not! 

Since we are in the spirit of not worrying, I have decided to employ three sociopaths to worry for me: A silly billy, an imbecile, and a schmuck. I am going to pay them $64,000 US dollars every minute (this is not a joke). 

I know you might ask, "Where will you get the money to cover for those salary expenses?"

Well, that's their problem to worry about. 

Friday, July 31, 2020

Wisdom Is Always Right

Can your husband cook? Some wives are convinced that boasting about their husbands is the right thing to do. "My Parachichi doesn't drink," will always be among the comments that women unleash when competing in the league of comparison. Another one might add, "My Bonge Thuzi is a prayer warrior!"

It's obvious that their chairlady wouldn't want to be left behind [relegation zone]. "My Komu is not only a giver," she says while holding a cheque for Family Media. "He is the giver. Always giving until it hurts!" 

Folks are having trouble differentiating between what is wise and what's right. Not everything right is considered wise, but wisdom is always right. 

Being a cheerful giver is the right thing to do, but giving until it hurts is not wisdom. When you give until it hurts, cheerfulness will decrease, and hurt will increase. 

Acting unwisely has put individuals into frustrating situations. Premarital sex is considered normal, and all genders look forward to experimenting in the dark tunnel. Ladies take delight in getting laid by multiple partners; men can't wait to add another notch to their belt. 

Lust is blind. Everyone is choosing to sin against their own body. No one wants to embrace the Light within the tunnel (study John 3:17-21). The Light clearly shows that premarital sex is for wimps. Unfortunately, we can't see. 

Elohim [true God] created the act of sexual intercourse. Sexual intercourse is good, but Elohim designed it to be enjoyed in marriage. The enemy's nature is to pervert what Elohim has created. Just pay attention, and you'll notice the people encouraging us to use a fork when drinking soup. 

Couples are bottling up anger, fools are choosing revenge over reconciliation, and the mouth of the wicked is persuading those who are hurt to resist the power of forgiveness. Unforgiving tendencies come from a position of weakness. 

Maybe the person you love has been spreading news that you are left-handed because the devil lives in you, or you've been molested, or you recently caught your husband having sex with his mother-in-law, or you are continually condemning yourself for killing your own child, or the authorities put you behind bars for a crime you didn't commit, or whatever you think is unforgivable --- Listen! Forgiveness is not overlooking what made you bitter and angry.

Forgiveness is looking at the finished work of Christ. You cannot forgive --- no matter how hard you try --- unless you continually remember how much Elohim has forgiven you. The one who is forgiven much, loves much (study Colossians 2:13-15). It's hard to love and be unforgiving at the same time. 

We have unconsciously brought disappointments into our lives. Unwise actions such us premarital sex, choosing to be unforgiving, and *giving until it hurts* can cause perpetual instability. 

Christ Jesus presents Himself as the solution to the instabilities that are choking us. In His presence, there is always another chance. All you have to do is accept that He accepts you, as you are (study Romans 8:1). Aren't you tired of pretending? 

Tuesday, July 28, 2020


Windfall income is desired by many people. It can clear the eighteen months overdue loan, and make you stop worrying about the eviction letter you just received from your landlord. It can also give a Moroto Slums resident all the confidence they needed to take a *high maintenance lady* for a coffee date at English Point Marina, or just transform Mkala's life overnight.

The windfall income recipient may start pretending to understand what Grant Cardone meant when he said, "Money can't buy happiness, and poverty won't buy you anything." No one will even dare to condemn that pretending tendency. Who cares when your money does the talking? 

Mkala was fully aware that true transformation comes from within, and there was no history from his lineage that assured him it can happen overnight. An argumentative lady once said that true transformation is a long road and there are no shortcuts. 

Some individuals proclaim that they are born to suffer, others strongly believe that difficult roads always lead to beautiful destinations, and then there is Mkala who continually wishes for a route that defies the status quo. Both difficult and long roads sounded the same to him; it was like listening to Lucidious and Eminem. I guess even Meek Mill cannot tell the difference. 

Long roads are tedious, and shortcuts are overrated. Mkala knew that it was time to choose a side. He wanted to listen to a different sound, preferably short and sweet. 

Mkala always wished for a road that is as straight as six hours after midnight, but that wish never came true. The only straight thing in his life was his sexual orientation.

Sadness could be seen all over his face. The soccer analysis he did never paid off; he lost the bet again. Moreover, he lost the money that was set aside for rent.

Mkala was confident that he would win big. The fellow decided to stake all the money that was left, not knowing he was giving in to overconfidence. Overconfidence has a painful way of making smart people to never bother taking calculated risk. 

The illusion of a *sure bet* brought more trouble: The arrears of rent won't be cleared, he hated himself for knowingly choosing the shortcut to acquiring more money, he felt a sudden efflux of anxiety from the heart to the current state of his finances, and if Christ Jesus appeared to him and said, "Mkala, let not your heart be troubled," it would completely make no sense. 

Two Thieves

Unapata pesa kidogo, ushaanza kuita jeraha wound. Wadau, let us reason together. Nikiita jeraha wound, ni wewe nimeita, huh? Kam...