Friday, 22 September 2017

My sweet Nafula

Many moons ago - while the Nyayo milk was still part of the Kenyan school curriculum - my young tender heart was flabbergasted, bara gacha'd and sinfully smitten by the beauty of a village girl who at the time I believed held the keys to my paradise. If I had my way then, I would have bestowed her with a royal exotic name: Queen of Sinyereribury, after my village's name Sinyereri. However, the gods had their way, as they always do, and slapped her with a true indigenous African botanical name - Christine Nafula Shikoti. 

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

So, what exactly did a Kikuyu or Luo do to you?

I met Mike early this year when he applied for a communications consultancy job at my organization. He was a nice chap. Down to earth. Industrious. Knowledgeable. Skilled and always dressed to impress. I liked him immediately. As a result, I gave him the Kshs 4.2 million consultancy job.

Wednesday, 23 August 2017

I know what it feels to be in hell

I am beginning to slowly figure out this thing called life. It's taken a while, but I am slowly getting there. For the most part, I have been crawling into the labyrinth of life, ignorantly and without guidance, sense of direction, purpose or focus. Its been a crazy ride defined with an abundance of tears, regrets, and most importantly, valuable lessons. 

Monday, 14 August 2017

Why God is a stranger in most churches

He spoke as if he had the monopoly of biblical knowledge, wisdom and understanding. For two hours we listened to him blather on and on about the "word of God." He was an entertaining preacher. He cracked jokes intermittently, and tried his best to be engaging and relevant. We were glued to him. So glued, that we would occasionally cheer him on with shouts of amen and hallelujah juxtaposed with raucous laughter. 

Thursday, 3 August 2017

Good Morning Haters

The following scene has played in my mind countless times. The year is AD 2040-ish. I am huko ma-fifty something years. Proudly donning white hair and a tired semi-potbelly. After years of bribing wazee with "chai", I am finally inducted as a bonafide member in the village council of elders. It's an achievement worth observing a moment of silence. 

By the wisdom of the gods, I am a father of three rascals. Though I am salivating to be a grandpa someday. It's perhaps the only thing causing me to still hang on the thread of life. My firstborn is a stylish young lady who goes with a modern botanical name on social media. She curiously carries her mother's beauty and royal elegance perfectly complemented, of course by her father's intelligence and brilliance.