I HAVE MADE PEOPLE

I know some of you will not believe me. In my short life so far, I am bragging of having made great people and I am still going to make more so watch my space. Let me give you a breakdown of the list of people I have made.

NOTE: This is just 2.1% of the people I have made.

SENATOR GSO OUMA KODHEK

• PRESIDENTIAL APPOINTEE AS A MEMBER OF THE BOARD OF GOVERNORS GEOTHERMAL DEVELOPMENT COMPANY
• VIED FOR KILIMANI WARD REPRESENTATIVE SEAT

I know he may argue about this but nobody knows this man very well better than I do, apart from his wife-that is if he finally decided that the only way he can see better without his spectacles is through his wife’s eyes. In this one I thank God, because finally GSO will not set his eyes on my woman again like he used to do. So am safe [I mean, she is safe]. Now, apart from GSO always stealing my novels in high school that he used to better his communication skills and overshadow all form ones in debate and public speaking, he had one don’t-touch-my-shoe trouser that he put on everyday while in his last year in Friends School Kamusinga. As I told you I made this man so this story of behind every successful man, there is a woman is rubbish in this case. Behind every GSO’s success, there is my missing [am avoiding to use ‘stolen’ ] form one trouser. I have just heard some rumour that President Uhuru has appointed the man somewhere in some big geothermal office, so GSO, am coming for my trouser. If at all you ever will vie for the presidency of this county, please bring my novels back too, otherwise I will publish this story in 1000 pages.

PAUL MUNGAI KIONGERA [AKA-MODO]

HARAMBEE STARS PLAYER, FORMER GOR-MAHIA LOANEE, KCB MIDDLE FIELDER

I take pride in the fact that I was not only in the same hostel with him in the great Kamusinga but his brother, Sammy Kiongera was an unsuccessful pursuer of my sister. So basically, we could have been relatives…that makes us distant relatives. I am one man who believes that it is only your left foot that can save Man-U’s terrible season this time round. If you put your right foot in too, then we can as well run away with that title for the 20 somethingth[Don’t correct me, just stick to soccer] time. I will always remind people that you were my substitute in the soccer team, until I got a 2 years thumb injury, then you took my position and I was always there to lose my voice cheering you. Now I am one man who has always prayed that you live to experience a 6 weeks injury inflicted by Kun Aguero’s elephant foot. So when you get there, don’t forget your relative.

SADIKINI BATSO NYIRO
MOTHER-IN-LAW ACTOR : ALPHA

Every time I watch him on TV, I feel like getting the Mother- in- Law director, grab him by the collar and ask her, “How could you take my double-cast when the original idea was me”. On second thoughts, I discover that I am too naughty for such roles. How can you ask me to fall in love with someone, and then later on ask me to pretend to be her cousin? If I were the one, I am sure that cousin of mine would have already been 3 weeks pregnant with triplets. Now, how did I make Sadikini? He will also not admit this, but I know there is this one time we had eyes on the same girl. Since, I was the secretary then, I just cancelled his name out from the list of people that were to travel for drama festivals. So I had the whole day with her and bought her ice creams with money that Sadikini had bribed me with to fix his name back in the list. Rumours reached him later that the girl and I did several things at the backseat that day and since then I am sure, he swore to prove me wrong with everything he did. That is why when I met him a few years ago at Bomas as an actor and I a director, he worked even harder…and pap! Mother -in -Law. Big up man.

Now I have to make a confession, whoever told you we did several things on the backseat, lied. It was  more than just several things under the bus.

JACQULINE MWANGI

VIDEO GIRL AND TAHIDI HIGH ACTRESS: JOLENE

I don’t adore Meru for the mirror [which is spelt wrongly as miraa]. No! I have a lot to say about her, but let me just leave it from: she was my single-day girlfriend at the Drama Festivals in Meru. Now you know that I was actually a great inspiration to her becoming the hottest Insyder chick at that time. Let’s just say, the rest is history. You can ask DJ Mo [if at all it’s true they are dating]. That should tell you that there is one more person added to the list of the people I have made: DJ Mo.

Almost everything here is real, just put in a crazy way…so believe it.

FATHERHOOD

I salute anybody with the tag father today, though not those who are not worth this very responsible title. My few months’ experiences as a father have taught me to value these special people. Henceforth, I will make a point of celebrating every Fathers Day as if it is Christmas. This year for example: I will buy myself a new Kaunda suit with black Mwalimu Jini shoes, then I will make sure I buy some explosive stuffs and will be awake till midnight just waiting for the day to start, then I will wake my neighbours up with threatening explosions and loud singing like the one they experience only in new year. Later that day I will get very angry with my wife because I am sure she will forget to buy me a pair of new red socks as gift to go with my new shoes. Anyway, that is neither here nor there. The most important thing right now is to let you know that every time my wife will be telling my kid that she carried her for only nine months, I will be bragging for carrying him for a much longer time than that…just that when I met her [note that I used MET not MATE] I deposited the thing to her.

So this day, Mama DY sees a message from a colleague, asking me to cover her work the next week in her absence. Now she is an extremely jealous one. The text had two problems: Number one, it had an extremely toxic word somewhere. A word that does not auger well with extremely jealous wives: ‘swthrt’. I couldn't even read the word because it never looked like English but somehow my wife could and she got totally furious, leaving me wondering when she learnt Japanese. Number two, the colleague was a very beautiful lady that she knew, so I understand why she was three times furious. Anyway, for this second reason I am not apologetic because, it would have been very annoying if the text was from an average-looking girl, and horrible, if it had been a man.

I am a smart father; I know how ladies enjoy seeing their husbands babysit. It works miracles.  So I assure her that since the following day was my off-day, I would take care of the baby. She seems excited about this but I only discover the next day that she is yet to trust me when she sends the house girl to the furthest part of the town and flattens my car tyres just in case my other brain makes me think of following the house girl. So in my house that day, it was just me, my three months old tadpole and Jehovah Al Shaba….something [or is it El Shadai….that part of my Bible got torn].

I had planned to compensate for all those mornings I am forced to wake up early to go to work but just as soon as Mama DY left, DY started yelling as if I had pinched him. I decide to ignore thinking that he was messing with my mind but this kid was smart. It is not only the yelling that would keep you awake. I suspect  the mum must have given him a piece of skunk meat because the pungent chocking gas that he was unleashing, could not even allow a tse-tse fly victim  to sleep. So I get up and rush to get some milk to feed him. Only then do I discover that I was so hungry. Despite being alone, I look around twice to confirm that no one was seeing me, and I quickly take a huge gulp of DY’s funny tasting milk. It is then that my phone rings [Mama DY calling me to remind me that he had left some breast milk there for DY]. Whaaaat! The rest is History. Just know it had something to do with me trying to force myself to puke.

Now DY wasn't that kid who sleeps all the time as if he was on a dosage of sleeping pills. You needed to soothe him to sleep with several sweet lullabies. His mum had taught him this bad habit. So now I am forced to sing for him the same so that he could sleep then I could compensate for my sleeping time. Unfortunately, this is the time that all lullabies you have ever had disappear from your mind. The only song that you remember is one: “Timboroa ni mbali sana”. Now this song can only make Kibera babies sleep, not my Lavington-type DY.  Luckily Jehovah Al Shaba…something comes to my rescue. I quickly remember that lullabies have some ‘lala’ word. And so there is this Willy Paul’s song that comes to my mind. It is a fast one though, so I try to sing it very slowly to create the soothing effect. It is only when my DY gives me that crazy smile of his that it hits me that this song was a dedication to the dead. I curse myself ten times with ten different obscene words and thank God that DY doesn’t understand them. I finally figure out something: even Christmas songs sang with the right pace could be perfect lullabies and so I start singing a few. But the only person these songs can make to sleep is…me. I wake up an hour later only to find DY staring in space just like he was doing while I was singing.

I guess at this time, the boy must have done a few blunders on his diapers so I decide to fix the mistakes. Now this is the part where the baby decides to send you a very rude message right to your face.            Just when you are getting of the diapers, he sprays you with a fresh supply of boiling urine on your right eye [I have never understood why it never gets the left eye]. Am left wondering why he didn't do that mess in the diapers. At this point I must confess that I am struggling so hard not to punch his tinny red balls. Anyway, the answer was right in my face, I am taking care of his generation but not really his generation, it is more personal: I am taking care of my future generation. Assuming that since, he had just messed up the diapers, he wasn't going to do it any time soon, I leave him free and go to warm some water to clean him up. From the kitchen, a very ugly loud sound sends me running to the room to check on DY, only to find that my good boy had released all the pieces of skunk meat that his mum gave him on my brand new 5000/= duvet. Here, my black skin was turning red with anger. I rushed to the kitchen made sure that I not only warmed his water but boiled it to 112.31⁰c. He would know that I am the boss and he should not mess up with me. In my anger, I didn't even notice that I wasn't having a holder in my hands to get the sufuria off the fire so I used my bare hands. All I remember is that my hands got scalded and the water found its way to my body.

What I am saying is, right now I have two marks that remind me of fatherhood: my crazy DY and some funny looking scars on my body. This are the main reasons why I am never taking Fathers day for granted again. And any other father who has gone through the same experiences, I am welcoming them to my place this year. Remember to carry your explosives. Sorry, Mama DY reminds me that they are called Fireworks.

THE THREE BOOKS: BOOK OF LIFE, BOOK OF DEATH & BOOK OF LIES

I bet I need to make a few explanations about my recent silence. Well, it is because I feel so deceived and I wonder how my friends could take me for such a nincompoop. Recently, when going through my high school gallery, I came across this book, that I henceforth decided to call it ‘book of lies’ well because nothing in it seems true.

There are three books that I am very familiar with:

The book of life – This is where my name was erased just the other day when Manchester united lost to Stoke City and you tried to make fun of it, so I told you a few things about your mother, that you probably didn’t know.

The book of death – This is the book where someone speedily scribbled my names some few microseconds after it had been erased in the fast book. Now, somehow this book has fallen in love with me and has refused to understand the fact that I am not interested. Anyway, I am a smart guy. My name will be out soon and rewritten where it belongs [the first book]. Well, this is the plan: I am praying so hard that when I wake up tomorrow morning, there will be a rumour like Mesut Ozil has had 10years brain injury and is unable to make clever decisions, so I will come to ask for forgiveness for what I said about your mother. I know you won’t forgive me [it’s so hard to forgive one who deases your mother] and since your refusal would be sin, your name will actually replace mine in the book of death then I will definitely take your slot in the first book.

The book of lies – This is what you otherwise call auto-book. Now this is the reason why I feel so cheated. So I thought after finding it I would have a wonderful reunion with my high school friends only to end up disappointed that it wasn’t the case. Give a human being chance to lie then he can convince you that he has never been a sperm, rather, can even convince you that you are a plant. This book gave students the chance to lie. I will tell you how:

Residence

This part was called with names such as Hood/Base/Bayz (Or Hoot/ Pase/Payz) depending on where you came from. This is where my friend Erick Shibweche who stays in Khwisero lied to me that he lives in Donom [I just discovered that it is Donholm he meant], Nairobi. I hadn’t been so keen on that but the other day I discovered that he wrote ‘HOOT’ and am more than certain that that was such an intelligent lie.

Contacts

This is where you are given numbers that have never existed and if they exist, they probably belong to the neighbour’s watchman. Well, most numbers started with +254… but I remember being uniquely smart in this one.  My number was something like  -254…I can never forgive Hillary Edalia who wrote me contacts that when I called some masculine voice with a heavy coastal accent was like, “Hee! Niliweka nambari zangu kule kwenye choo za umma, wewe ni shoga mwenzangu baibe!” [For this: No comment, I have never understood how he got that number and if he guessed, it would take a lot of money for him to convince me on that] Matters were even worse when it came to the email section. My friends took advantage of the fact that I always got Es in Biology. It only hit me recently when I saw emails like streptococcus@gmail.com, testosterone@ova.com . There was one Laban Majora who also acted smart with me and wrote labiamajora@yahoo.com which I have refused to believe was a way of telling me that I was a virgin. That email must really have been from his names.

Dreamdate

In this part you discover that you are not the only one who was admiring the ‘butt’ of someone’s wife and now a mother, Beyonce. There were several hyenas that also had eyes on your target date and there you were praying that she breaks up with Jay Z so that you have your chance. Anyway, I am a smart guy, in this section my dream date was Sheila Mwanyigha, more realistic and I can tell you that I am 20.1% away from achieving that. You should see how she smiles when I make that call every morning on AM Live to remind her that she is as beautiful as the girl I am planning to dump for her. My jealous friends however think that she is always smiling at the cameras because of her profession. I don’t blame them; I blame their choice of dream dates.

Parting shot

Now, this was where they told you their honest opinion about what kind of a person you were in school. At this point you discover that some people consider your birth a curse. One that really interested me was this by Ralphson Akoto who wrote: “Sammy, huko nje hakuna ubeste story ya madame”. Now my whole life is miserable because I am very insecure, not sure where Akoto will appear from to grab my wife and run away with her.

Anyway, am somehow glad that almost everything in this book was a lie so I know Akoto maybe nowhere close. The closest he can be is to a television still drooling over Beyonce.