Thank you Santa but this is what I really wanted for Christmas

Hello diary. Christmas here in Surrey was lovely. And extremely cold too. We spent the day with my brother Timmy, his wife Claudia and my two nephews who also brought girlfriends along. I won’t forget to mention the adorable two border collie dogs Stupid and Sharp. The issue of George has long been ironed out since our first visit here together. To be fair Timmy is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet - amiable and funny especially when he’s had a drink, my gayness was never going to come between us. He’s also very intelligent and with an acute sense of ethics which is why I wonder what he’s still doing in the pharmaceutical industry.

Everyone got on like a house on fire but somehow George and I still struggled in the freezing temps. The house is heated to 25 degrees C and there’s even under-floor heating downstairs. To cap it all Claudia had an electric blanket rolled out on our double bed. During the long weekend we stayed mostly indoors and only went out twice during the day to the nearby park to walk the dogs. I got a Shoei helmet from Timmy and Claudia while George gave me a leather-riding jacket. They must have been communicating secretly during the year after I said to George I want to start riding bikes again. We gave my relatives wooden African wall masks for their conservatory and I forked out a small fortune in cash for my nephews who are both heading for a skiing holiday tomorrow. To George I gifted a t-bar necklace in white gold. He says he loves it almost as much as he loves me.

Boxing Day afternoon I called Imelda who was away spending the holiday with her mum and her son. She was having a brilliant time frolicking in sunny Nairobi. I said you know what I’d really want right now, I wish you’d have knitted me a cock warmer because England is so cold. She laughed and said eh Tam, I’ve knitted many weird things before but that would be a first! Anyway Imelda being Imelda said, I’ll start knitting one for you right now which you can use during the wintry days here in July but you need to tell me what size your cock is. So I said take a guess but remember you’re due a salary increase soon. So she generously said, ‘Let me make it seven inches then you’ll be all warm and snug.'

I answered dryly, ‘Yes, Imelda at least seven inches flaccid. That’ll do!.' Lol!

We are off

George and I are finally off on our holiday to the UK. We are quaffing champagne very nicely on Club World while waiting for the rest of the flight to get boarded. Loving it. Happy holidays all, be safe xxx xx

Conspiracy theories and mango eating

Hey, we are still in Nairobi owing to the travel disruptions at
Heathrow Airport. Luckily we've just been told that we should be away
in the next couple of days. George and I are not complaining – it's so
hot in Nairobi you could fry an egg on my shiny forehead right now.

It's such a sad day for Nairobi after that deadly blast which cost
lives and horrific injuries, my commiserations. Meanwhile I overhead
someone at the sports club last night when the story broke out, saying
it could be the work of anti-Ocampo forces out to 'discourage' the
tenacious Argentine and his human rights' coterie from coming this way
anytime soon. I'm not in the slightest convinced but then again
stranger things have happened in these parts..

Anyway, we've just come back (my bf and I) from a walk to a nearby
kijiji (village) where we stopped for two deliciously juicy mangoes.
Each was as huge as a baby's head and only for 25 shillings. Aaaah,
these days in the sun are pure magic.

This chocolate starfish should be Ocampo's number 7 - Nominations for Kenya Analists Awards 2010

I read the news of one Ms Mugambi's ordeal at the hands of her former employer Booksfirst and the actions of general-manager Ann Randiki with much shock and equal consternation. Read about it here and let me know what you think. Thank God for the wisdom and mercy of a judge who found for the plaintiff. Lately the wheels of justice around here appear to be moving in the right direction. That - in this day and age - anyone in authority can treat an employee in such a crass, unreasonable and dictatorial manner while expecting to get away with it is just beyond me.

Booksfirst urgently needs to clarify the company policy with reference to these nauseating events. They can then proceed to sack the general manager and offer Ms Mugambi that job if at all she wants it. Btw, the Nuremberg Defense is as lame as Mugabe's libido even if his balls were to get tickled from behind all night by one of his sycophants. Uh-huh....which reminds me can someone please tell Mugabe to lose the Hitler-moustache, people might start to think he's a power-crazed despot.

The reported conduct of Ms Randiki can only be summarized as spiteful, malicious, cruel and repugnant. It has done some damage to the Booksfirst brand. Both make the fabulous Meryl Streep in the Devil Wears Prada, which we watched on Friday night TV, appear as meek as Mother Teresa. Therefore I would like to award Ms Randiki and Booksfirst joint Assholes of the Year. Dirty, dirty, vile and evil.

Travel blues

We've just been to the airport only to discover that BA have cancelled tonight's flight from NBO due to adverse weather at LHR.

Nothing much one can do about it if the good pilot doesn't feel like skating a 777 Boeing full of passengers across an icy runway. We managed to get rebooked out tomorrow night but that's also subject to overnight conditions at Heathrow. BTW, BA Nairobi staff could teach KQ check-in crew a thing or two about service with a smile. Aaaargh, the snow fairy is eating into our precious vacation time!! Right now we are ensconced in Maina's cab leaving the airport for home. I guess it's not all bad, another night for George and I in our own bed can only be a good thing. I hope Imelda hasn't got the house full of a raging bash thinking we are already away, lol!

Oh no, the party season is upon us again!

Today has been a crazy day with last minute shopping for the wonderful friends and family we plan to see on our trip to the UK. One thing that should never be missed from these goodie bags is Kenyan tea and coffee and good old Royco mchuzi mix. My brother Timmy always asks me not to forget the washing up paste Axion - the grease stripper - he says it does a fantastic job at cleaning the rims to his tyres.

After shopping George and I stopped for a quick grab to eat at Java Mama Ngina street. We each had toasted beef and cheddar sandwiches with homemade fries and a woeful garden salad (see pics). That's what's wrong with this country, wherever I look I just can't seem to get a decent salad.

Anyway now we are just resting before hitting the town for some drinks. First stop Mercury Lounge (it's been a while) then finish off at Black Diamond. The season to make merry is well and truly here.

Kenyans accused of 'coordinated crimes against humanity' - displacements, rapes and killings

- Francis Muthaura, Head of the Civil Service

- Uhuru Kenyatta, MP and Minister

- William Ruto MP

- Hussein Ali, former Police Commissioner

- Henry Kosgey, MP and Minister

- Joshua Arap Sang, Journalist

These are the individuals said to bear the greatest responsibility.

Countdown

Good morning. Nairobi is cool, hardly above 21 degrees. George and I just finished collecting our new passports from Nyayo House. We are off to wintry UK in the next couple of days for Christmas and New Year. The entire process took just two weeks which was very efficient of the Immigration Ministry. I was pleasantly surprised to also learn that they are open weekdays from 7am to 8pm, great stuff and not a sneeze of a bribe. Kenya really is changing.

I just took this pic of I&M Bank building on Kenyatta Avenue walking to our car. People we are passing on the street don't seem too anxious about Mr Ocampo's impending announcement but George has already pointed out to me scores of alert plainclothes policemen.

Ten to midnight - the hour cometh (Yes, that's my final answer)

Nairobi, 14th December 2010. Night sky full of clouds looks like it'll be a wet night. DJ/housekeeper Imelda is getting our dinner ready while playing Yvonne Chaka Chaka's I'm Burning Up (are you ready). Before that we listened to Everyday the Same by Nine Inch Nails. My dear mummy came over earlier for lunch unannounced but that was still fab. I know I'm the favourite because she once whispered to me 'it's a parent's duty to always protect the weakest child'. That's her perception of me that I've since exploited most of my life, thank you very much.

At 1400 hrs tomorrow ICC Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo is set to name the six prominent Kenyans he wants tried for perpetrating, financing and masterminding Kenya's horrific post-election violence. William Ruto MP came back from a recce to Den Haag recently leaving political commentators confounded as to what he hoped to achieve. I liken it to the exploratory call you make to a buddy the day after a serious drinking session when you can't remember what you did. Anyway what's certain is that it was an opportunity to eat pancakes and buy cheese and clogs for his family. Once again absent-minded Kenyan journalists missed an opportunity at the return press conference to ask him if he's ever been to a gay bar. Christiane Amanpour would never have let that pass. Without a doubt this rockstar of Kenyan politics now besieged by the prospect of so much litigation, well, statistics say one of those charges may stick.

To those who care for my personal opinion can I just say that I have come to detest Mr Ruto's ways of introducing dangerous dimensions outside the rules of the game whenever he feels isolated. It's just not cricket. Please Father, Forgive Them - the crowd that went to the airport to give him a 'hero's' welcome - for they know not what they can't do. Lately Mr Ruto has taken on the look of a very scared pussy at the hands of merciless blood-sucking lawyers. Some analysts say he is also emerging as a weak chess player who has been wrongly advised to go for over-exposure. It's so easy to tell the politicians who got the least cuddles as kids because they just can't get enough of the limelight.

I'm reminded about the story of a sheep and a chicken who both lived on a farm. One day they heard the farmer's wife planning a big dinner party with friends. Chicken spent the evening mocking sheep saying that mutton infused with rosemary (the herb not the she, lol) would have to be the main course because it was a large gathering. However the next day the party was cancelled but the farmer's wife still decided to give her small family a treat. Yep, you guessed right - she served up coronation chicken for lunch. Moral of the story - warlords, you are the weakest link, now fuck off. I know, it's a little tenuous but I'm sure you still get my drift.

Sent from my iPhone

Happy birthday Kenya; 21 again?

We are still celebrating Kenya's Independence Day here at home. It's been a memorable day in the welcome company of lover, friends and family. Husband George roasted us the most succulent goat legs which we've been sending down with copious amounts of Tusker lager chased down with shots of Viceroy brandy. We've been listening to sounds like Summer Love by Denyque, Get No Better by Cassidy ft Mashonda (Swizz Beatz you've got mad skills like Tedd Josiah but you are still The Dog. Alicia Keys, remember karma's a bitch). Also been grinding to Missing You by Case (tune, tune, tune).

Oh, my friend Paprika from the UK is also here. AND, so is Lavish over from Kilifi looking so fierce I feel like having another small but secret nibble of her ripened fruits. She's sitting directly opposite with her 36DD tits pointing at me like upturned traffic cones. Saucy minx can't really blame me. Mmmm....

Sent from my iPhone

Kenyans deserve better from Safaricom

Over the past few weeks M-Pesa, Safaricom's revolutionary mobile cash transfer platform has been experiencing all manner of hitches to suggest a network on the precipice of total collapse most likely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of transactions (previously said to be 70 + per second). The last major system upgrade of the past couple of weeks has not eased fears.

Government needs to take note. With millions of subscribers dependent on M-Pesa, the failed transactions and unreliability of the system should be of major concern from a national security point of view as this is a scenario that could even spark nationwide civil unrest.

Kwaheri Naivasha

Just ended my meeting. Tie loosened, pleased to be heading back home. Listening to Prince from the album of the same name, the one with the track 'I wanna be your lover' on the 90 kms return journey. Sunny blue skies, light traffic - fanta orange kind of day but racing manic Mololine matatu drivers on the killer road. Purchased some sheepskin rugs at Lari. Next stop home sweet home.

On a jolly

I've just stopped for breakfast at Silver Hotel's Jolly Cafe Naivasha. It will be a mug of Kericho Gold tea, two slices of buttered toast and two fried eggs (waitress says I can't have one egg, must be two. Lol!).

Sunrise

Nature comes alive in the Rift Valley just before Kinungi. Check out the fascinating mountain crater to the left of this picture. I'm making excellent progress, I should arrive at my destination with plenty of time to spare.

Dull-eyed not so bushy tailed

Good morning sleepy heads. Can't believe I'm getting ready to leave the house at this hour. I've got a meeting in Naivasha for 8 am. Foggy head not yet cleared from last night's three double brandys but I'll drop a Redbull with the toast, that should do the trick. It was a struggle to leave George in our warm bed but needs must. Lovely day all xxx

Sent from my iPhone

Raila squanders decades of respect, reputation now in tatters as he topples himself from pedestal

I have been a lifelong admirer of Prime Minister Raila Odinga from his days as a human rights and pro-democracy activist. This is a man who has the scars that bear testament to the brutality and injustices of Moi’s repressive regime when he was ordered detained for years without trial. Raila has been feted home and abroad as a champion of causes that affect the marginalized and the neglected. Only a few weeks ago- I think it was during Mashujaa Day - he spoke convincingly of a New Kenya where citizens’ private lives would be free from the control of the State and we cheered him on because we thought here is a politician with depth.

That’s why the PM’s recent Kamukunji edict that police should arrest gays comes as a huge shock. Raila now risks being unmasked as a shameless circus-performer whose only ambition is to become at best a benevolent tyrant if he ever sees the presidency. He campaigned, as did many gay Kenyans, for a new constitution to enshrine individual rights and liberties but in essence he would rather reform our Police into a Gestapo-style organization snooping around its citizens’ bedrooms.

Therefore can the Prime Minister also issue a statement to clarify just how police are to identify homosexuals before arresting them? Will it now be an offence for two men to be enjoying a quiet drink together if none of them is married? Will police now patrol the estates in vans festooned with ‘Government of Kenya Rectal Exam Unit’? And if one is identified as homosexual will he be sent to the Kenyan colony on Mars since homosexuality is considered ‘unAfrican’ and 'unnatural'? I seriously want to put this whole saga to one side and accept it as just cheap politics and playing to the gallery in the week we heard about drug-trafficking government officials but I still can’t help thinking it is unethical conduct and most unbecoming of the office of Prime Minister.

A big monumental letdown. Why Raila, why did you do it?

I gotta a feeling

George and I just got back from visiting my friend Nyiva in Kangundo who's made a remarkable recovery from that bodaboda accident. Doctors are confident she'll be back at work in January which is nothing short of a miracle from when I last saw her. Also friends (Gay Knights of Nairobi - by invitation only) and family of mine clubbed some money together which means her son will also be in class when school reopens. There's some cash left over so they'll both definitely know it's Christmas time. Nyiva wants all of you to know how touched she was by your cyber prayers and kind words. Pat yourselves all on the back for that wonderful result.

Well, about that alleged two-timing incident with Lavish last week for which Kasapere now intimates I'm a rapist and lowlife, George and I are in a good place too. By the way I turned down an all expenses offer by Lavish early this week to go see her in Mombasa. I told her I'm not willing to take this to the next level and jeopardise what's dearest to me so I really hope you understand. Lavish said my heart desires you Tamaku but I'll do my best to back off. Then she added rather ominously, I usually get most things that I want so keep looking over your shoulder. We both laughed nervously at that implied threat, I scratched my testicles in camaraderie and replied eh missy, please don't go all psycho bitch on me now. Then we just left it at that.

After that conversation I called George and promised him that there wouldn't be a next time ever. I also more than made up to Gee for that indiscretion but I'm not going to reveal too much. All I can say is my supplication involved an intimate candlelit dinner somewhere very nice, a half bottle of Skyy vodka, Virgin Sudanese shea butter rubbed somewhere and some mind-blowing sex. Oh, the icing on the cake is the present of Christmas this year in England. I'm not too shy to unleash some spare financial firepower if it keeps us together. This morning after reading Kasapere's hurtful comments George tearfully told me I feel so blessed for this no ordinary love and I want you to know that you'll never be anyone's douchebag. So it's back to happy families.

On the way back from Kangundo (that road is an effing disgrace) I took this picture of men-at-work doing patchwork repairs. All is not lost though, a little bird sat on a lofty perch has just told me that total rehabilitation is penciled to begin early 2011 :)

We are both now slightly tired so we'll have a shagnap then shower and change before heading out to dinner with friends and some grueling (for me) clubbing. It's a small price for the privilege of having a younger man for a lover and best friend. Let no-one be under any illusion - George is the most loving, beautiful and hottest man alive. He is also irreplaceable. Lavish was horny-goat sex. Hope that has cleared it all up.

I've got a feeling that tonight's gonna be a good, good night. Lovely Saturday night all. xxx

Neighboursdontmind?

This is a new phrase that I came up with this afternoon while holding on the line to my bosom buddies at Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA). Basically it’s how to respond when a friend keeps on telling you of all the wonderful noisy sex marathons he's been having but you don't want him to know how wracked with spite you are because you’re not getting any.

Example of use

Tommy: Man, the other morning Don and I only had sex for two hours but he had to untie me midway from the balcony railings of our apartment to check the condom was okay and to add some more lube. Don also smoked a spliff and downed two Redbulls. He then stuck a Viagra up my ass before we continued for another three hours...

Martin (shaking head chlorophylled with envy): WHAAT? Neighboursdontmind?!

Adults party all day and sleep all night

Good afternoon chaps and chapesses from blue-sky Nairobi. It's Imelda's day off so I made us a lettuce and tomato salad with bits of crispy bacon dressed in a Vidalia Onion dressing all scooped up in toasted pitta bread. I know the quickest route to my man's heart. Now George and I are just relaxing wearing only shorts in the garden under the cantilevered parasol drinking chilled passion juice mixed with kiwi fruits and a tinge of rum. This amazing country is good enough proof for me that God exists. If you doubt me ask Prince William why he chose Kenya to propose to his future wife. We are also listening and singing to Wayne Marshall's Good Love (the masterpiece riddim produced by Trevor Baby G). It goes like this: say she love my style, di way I profile....say she needs it harder, say she needs it stronger....

We're both, unsuccessfully I must add, trying out some badboy dancehall steps, lol.

Life is sweet. Only thing is I never got so much hate mail as I did since I told you all about my night with Lavish. I don't get it because George is cool with it, he understands that humans are complex when it comes to sexuality. People need to get real, come on, I only boned a girl it's not like I'm trying to breed a Martian. And it was consensual with all cards on the table facing up. Now I know not to tell everything that I get up to because what I normally write here is just a tiny slice of my life, hehehe. But even I sometimes think i go too far like the unforgettable night I spent with twin lesbians whom I met at Wikililye in Kitui years ago. That's why I'll always remain undercover. Have a lovely Sunday. xxx

No Means Yes (Chopped and Screwed)

My life here in beautiful Kenya sometimes feels like a movie. You’ve met the main actors: George (boyfriend), Imelda (housekeeper) and Sheila (best female friend). Weeks ago Lavish made a cameo appearance. Well it looks like she wants to become a regular. This is an account of what happened to me yesterday:

I was in the garden just working on my laptop when I got a call from Lavish. I had spoken to her twice since our first meeting. So she calls me and says hi Tamaku, I’m in town can we please meet. I said what a lovely surprise; of course sweetie just let me know place and time. Lavish said come to the Exchange bar at Sarova Stanley today 4pm-ish. I said sounds super I’ll be there. I felt a strange tingling sensation and sweat down my spine, like excitement mixed with anticipation. Anyway, I finished the report I was writing and then had an extra long shower. I soaped while singing I’ve Never Been To Me by Charlene…Oh, I've been to Georgia and California and anywhere I could run,Took the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun, But I ran out of places and friendly faces, Because I had to be free, I've been to paradise but I've never been to me…..
My intuition was telling me to make an extra effort so I wore my vintage Diesel Jeans, my lucky pink Number 7 polo shirt from Hackett (sometimes I feel like a Brit, hehehe) and brown Hush Puppies from Bata. I over-splashed Tsar cologne on my chin and neck and also some drops on my crotch and I was good to go.

I got the car valet-parked at the Stanley and climbed up the stairs to the bar at a few minutes to 4. I saw Lavish seated at a table by the window looking out to Kenyatta Avenue. I walked up to her and she stood up to give me a hug. She was looking stunning in snow-white denims, I said wow you look spectacular who is it this time. She laughed like a teenage girl and said thanks Tamaku, you always appreciate what I’m wearing, it’s Guy Laroche. I sat down taking in the aura of Flowerbomb which I now know is her scent and the waitress came to our table. She asked what are you having, I said please bring me whatever madam is drinking which turned out to be a delicious Merlot. We talked with Lavish, she told me she was in town to see some people for business including me. I said I’ve been expecting you because I loved your company very much from last time. I was looking inside her brown eyes, she was talking with them code-blinking me you make me feel good and I like you a lot. I thought I must tell her what I’m about so I just told her after the first glass of wine please listen to me . She said what, what and I whispered I’m gay. Lavish was quiet for a minute looking out of the windows through the white sheer curtains then she turned to me and said I knew it was too good to be true. She told me as a successful career woman many men are very intimidated of her. I was thinking what’s wrong with my straight brothers because this is premium grade and she is crying out to be asked on a date.

After the second glass it was now about 5.30 pm so I said please let’s change venue. I was feeling slightly tipsy and my instincts were calling for the chase to begin. We left the Stanley and walked down Kimathi Street and round the corner to Mama Ngina Street. I said let’s go up the Porterhouse bar which is normally full of hoity-toity start-up lawyers. We entered the bar and the room went silent, Lavish has that effect on people and I’m not that bad a catch also, lol. I told Benson the barman, please get us two glasses of Merlot and we carried on drinking. Naughty thoughts started going through my mind sitting next to Lavish brushing thighs and feeling the vibes. After two hours she was licking her lips and telling me man, how about it? I said please let’s go with the flow, don’t rush it.

We left Porterhouse at about 9 and walked towards Hilton holding hands. George called me on my mobile and said where are you, I said I’m with that bird I told you about called Lavish and I’m taking her clubbing to Westlands. He said that’s cool, do what you have to do because I know you like her, I’ll be at home whatever time. Lavish and I got into a cab which dropped us off at Black Diamond. We entered the rooftop terrace and everyone was looking at Lavish because she looks like a supermodel and she made the other Nairobi lovelies look very ordinary. We carried on drinking until midnight. I was feeling peaked and my resolve had long been broken. I said to Lavish, I’m coming back to your hotel with you. She said yes I know you are. Muchiri, the cab guy picked us up and took us back to the Stanley. I was thinking with my dick - please be a good boy today and don’t let this mammy down. We went up the lift and into her exquisite suite. When we got inside she shut the door and then we kissed like virgins although we both know the game very well like La Liga pros.

My hands and lips were on auto-pilot finding rarely ventured routes. Lavish was moaning No, no, please Tamaku. I looked deep in her eyes and said I know baby, No means yes. So we did it, my love-plank didn’t let me down even though it’s been a long time with a woman. Of course I also durexed because that’s my religion and I care. When we got there, Lavish bizarrely said to me please baby tell me you’ll always love me unconditionally. I said honey you are ranked but that was sex and my situation right now is very sticky. So she said I understand but I saw tears in her eyes before we both fell asleep.

This morning I got up at 6, Lavish was still asleep. I put on my clothes quietly like a two-bit whore. I wrote on the pad at the desk ‘thanks; last night was heaven’, and tiptoed out of the room. I got the car back and drove home fast, not thinking of much. Luckily I found George had not left for work. He looked at me and said I know but I still love you. I said sorry baby and he said that’s OK but if it was a guy you’d be history.

So now I’m just here in the garden where yesterday started. Lavish called an hour ago, she said I want you to come see me in Mombasa next week. I said I’ll think about it and let you know. Somehow I feel like things might be getting out of control.

This is my confession

Last night I was home alone. George was away visiting parents and Imelda was on leave. After dinner I couldn't stand the utter loneliness. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my own company very much but sometimes you need to be with people. I didn't want to go out to bars because nothing worse than a lonely drunk. I called George to vent my frustrations and he understood. He said permission granted to seek human companionship for the night but on condition that you both sleep in the guestroom and absolutely no sex. Oh, and it can't be a guy you are dead if I find out. It has to be a girl!

So I got in the car and cruised to a deserted city centre. I saw her on the kerb across Standard Street opposite Trattoria. She was a leggy stunner in a tight halter top and tight short skirt carrying a denim jacket who didn’t look like she’d be a day past 21. It’s amazing how fast a British-made SUV in champagne draws them like flies to shit. She asked me are you looking for action, I said may be, please get in the car we talk. When she jumped in I said my name is Tamaku, she told me hello darling I'm Nicole and it will be 4500 shillings for the night your place or hotel. I said fine and started the drive back home. On the way we listened to some old music like Rick Astley - never gonna give you up and Automatic by Pointer Sisters - every word I intended to speak winds up locked in a circuitry. Nicole told me she was a second year student at the University of Nairobi who was only trying to survive in the big city. I told her I'm not judging because we all have to do stuff at one point or another.

When we got to our estate I could see she was wishing she'd asked for more money. I told her don't worry I don't want to have sex with you, I just need company for the night. I could tell she didn't believe me and some of you guys won't believe me either. Listen up: there's nothing wrong with my truncheon and if there was, which there isn’t, I'd have easily stopped at the late night chemist for some Viagra 100 mg, hahaha. It's performance-enhancing just like cheating but it always does the trick (pun unintended).

I pulled up at our gate and the askari from KK Guards very briefly looked inside the car in shock. He knows I'm gay from how I am with George so he looked at Nicole sitting next to me looking all dolled up like a girl fulani ready for business. We got inside the house and I took her jacket, Nicole said wow what a place you have here, I said thanks and please feel at home. I went to get drinks, Nicole wanted a brandy and I had a chilled Tusker malt lager. Then I turned to look at her.

Let me say that I met many beautiful women in my life so I can safely say that Nicole was an 8.5. Her large soft eyes told me she didn't have much mileage on the clock. She told me she was also a single mum. I told her I'm a fag who lives with a man but he's away for the night. She said no way, I couldn't tell but I won’t let you do me in the butt. I said, ‘no Nicole I told you no sex, not even kinky sex.’

We soon started dancing; I even showed Nicole my dodgy moonwalk to Shalamar's Night to Remember. She laughed at me and said I never met a client as nutty and kind as you. I said right now I'm not a client I'm just a person but I'll give you the money we agreed on. Then we cuddled on the sofa listening to some R Kelly. She felt all soft and vulnerable when we were not talking just listening to slow jams.

Temperatures started rising so I got up and said let's go to the room and please bring your drink with you. Nicole followed me to the downstairs guestroom. I went to run the bath with lots of bubblebath and took off all my clothes. When I was in the bath Nicole appeared at the door and asked can I join you, I answered if you like. She undressed and got in the bath and I just held her in my arms. We stayed for so long we almost fell asleep and the water was getting cold. By the way never have a hot bath alone when you've been drinking - it can be lethal. When we got out I wrapped us both in a large towel and dried her. Nicole looked up my face and asked why are you doing this to me. I said I don't know. I fetched her a spare set of pyjamas, her petite frame was floating in them, lol. I put on some shorts and we sat by the window drinking her brandy.

After about an hour we got in bed. Again Nicole asked don't you find me attractive; I said you are a very beautiful and intelligent woman now go to sleep. When I turned off the lights I spooned Nicole and she started sobbing telling me things that have happened in her short life. I rubbed her chest gently saying I'm so sorry baby, it will be ok. I was thinking evil bastards.

Early this morning I got up and made breakfast for us. We shared a fried duck egg, sausages and Kenylon baked beans. When Nicole went to have a shower I called George and told him everything that I've told you. He said I believe you, now get that girl out of our house I'm on my way back. So I gave Nicole the cash and called her a cab. I declined to give her my number because I said it would just complicate things.

That's my confession.

Bar Camp?

Hi. Here is that pic I promised you from my evening at the Exchange Bar on Saturday where I also met Lavish. Check out the presentation of the bar snacks in the cocktail glass. How camp is that? I agree the head on that glass of lager is way too large but that's down to my haste when pouring it from the bottle. I think I'm more proficient at giving it, hehehe!

Saturday

I was at the Exchange Bar early Saturday night waiting for my pimp and drug dealer. I also have a forked tongue and tufts of hair on my fingernails, lol! I was actually waiting for none other than my only addiction which is George. Some think it should be Cristiano Ronaldo in his wildfire pink soccer boots but they don't know what I know. I had a couple of Tusker malt lagers and got served complimentary crisps and nuts. I even took a picture that I’ll show you later because my internet connection today is a complete joke. There are few bars in Nairobi that can match the cosy ambiance of the Exchange in the evenings.

While I was waiting for the prince I met a Kenyan goddess - a lady of breathtaking beauty. She really is a living caramel doll. She was also sitting at the bar looking resplendent in signature Penny Winter linens and beaded sandals made from old tires. By the way check out Penny’s 2010 Collection if you want to get the full picture. I took my chance and said hey lady do you come here often, I’m Tamaku, when does your centerfold come out or something lame like that. She tossed back her head of beautiful thick abuja braids laughing. She said I like you already 'My name is Lavish' - you heard right L*A*V*I*S*H. Not Mary or Sue or Charity or Crystal but Lavish. Think of the pornstar that even granny would approve. She told me I'm just waiting for somebody. I answered aren't we all. She handed me a business card which says she heads a company in Mombasa but she was down in Nairobi for meetings etcetera, etcetera. I was captivated by her eloquence, poise, elegance and schmaglitization which is a word I made up just for Lavish because God broke the mould once He'd baked her.

After talking for about an hour Lavish told me she felt like we had a connection, I said that's even without trying - I also feel you. She then gave me her real mobie number. Friends, my dream is to fly over the rainbow so high was also playing in my head as we chatted. The bar pianist was trying to tap something mellow (rather badly, sorry) away in the background. Just as we were getting down to opening up on our secrets, George rang me to say baby come downstairs now, because he didn't want to come up. When I went to pay the bill, Lavish said please allow me so I kissed her on the cheeks - thanks, bye-bye I'll definitely see you soon honey. Just to cap it all that’s when I noticed she was wearing Flowerbomb by Viktor & Rolf. Power. Enchanting. Hot. Very Lavish.

So George and I drove to Westlands, we stopped at the club Black Diamond. Beautiful Nairobians had come out to play, you'd never see them during the day because the sun is too hot for those wisps of a delicate disposition. Rugged expatriate men hovering around sophisticated barely-legal black girls who love chain-smoking Embassy Lights. Or butch black boys strutting all over the place with their white boyfriends watching football on the TV screens while sipping lager from bottles pretending to be straight. It's a surreal hedonist's world fueled by snobbery and money. Lots of cash just swirling in a pot owned by a select few. That's Nairobi's playground for you. However Monaco it most definitely is not because our version is just cheap veneer. Scratch the surface and most posers here are but one paycheck away from financial devastation. I can see through you, hahaha!

We quickly both got bored of the fakery, sadness and pointlessness of it all after an hour or so. Usual drill, one drink at the rooftop terrace of Black Diamond which was kicking then we decamped a notch downmarket next door to Red Tape and finally finished across the road at Rezorus for a sip. Then we both decided to call it a night and go home when Neyo started singing So Sick -Do do do do do do do-do - because we never get sick of love songs. We weren't feeling tired so we cuddled each other in bed watching the movie that questioned the way I think. I'll tell you all about it soon.

Make this your new religion

Yesterday I met a young male friend who's also the stepson of a former colleague. It's a bit complicated because I once dated his mum but that was a long time ago. He was out with his girlfriend browsing through the foodcourt at the Village Market when we bumped into each other. Luckily for me I wasn’t looking too shabby, I was in my orange Aquascutum short sleeves and tight white tennis shorts which show off some of my assets. Of course with the mandatory Oakley shades. I said hey Eric, I haven't seen you in a while let's stop and catch a beer. We pulled up some seats and ordered a round. Eric's girl was having a glass of red. He introduced her to me, Sam this is the Tamaku I’ve been telling you about. I laughed and said hope most of it good and we shook hands.

So we chatted and I asked about Eric's parents. I particularly wanted to hear about his mum Kathleen, my ex. He said mum's doing fine her business even made it to Kenya Top 100 this year. I said cool, please do greet her for me. I was watching Eric and Samantha, the body language told me they were both madly in love (could be lust) and already doing it. I asked how long they'd been together and Sam looked at Eric and told me two weeks! Hmmm, I thought the honeymoon phase which means having sex four times a day just like the doses for Imodium when you've got acute diarrhea. They are both 18 and students at a city college.

Anyway we got carried away and before we knew it they had five drinks each, I patiently had a couple of bottles of mineral water because I was driving. Finally they got nearly cooked and finished the little money I had on me and I offered to give them a ride home. Sam sat in the front passenger's seat, her long thin fingers tapping on tight Guess jeans to sounds of P-Unit Kare. Then we listened to Lemar’s It’s Not That Easy...girl, I tried to get you off my mind, it's not that easy. It was only a short hop to Eric's parents' home where they both alighted. As I turned the car round something in the front passenger's footwell caught my eye. I reached down and picked up a packet of Postinor - that emergency contraceptive. It won’t stop diseases but it can cause women to have irregular bleeding and nausea. I knew this must have dropped from Sam's bag. I thought those two are definitely going to need this the way they're all over each other so I fished out my mobile and dialed Eric's number. He came back to the car quickly because they had only just gone through the gates. I said I think this belongs to Samantha. He took the packet of pills and gave me a shamefaced grin because years ago I'd had The Talk with him when his mum asked me to.

Last night before I drove off I looked straight Eric in the eye and said,'Son, you're just starting out in life. From tonight onwards better make it your religion to never go in without a skin!'

No swimming with piranha

A couple of fridays ago George and I went for evening drinks at the Hilton's Jockey Bar. We also shared complementary roasted peanuts for both our nuts which is important for libido and stamina. Not too many salted nuts though because you might have a heart attack. I’ll let you decide, studhood or an early grave. As the evening wore on George was looking even more deserving of a good tickle, he's a generous lover and good ex-cop because he only had two bottles of chilled White Cap lager. I didn't want to let the side down and I wasn't driving so I downed a mini forest of Tuskers but very, very reshponshibly because they were getting planted at over 300 shillings plus taxes each. Ouch.

Soon we met the inevitable ma-gals, I say ma-gals because they were working girls (prostitutes is too entry-level). They didn't look too appetising but one man's poison may be another's meat. I should confess now that sometimes I think I could backslide and make an exception for the right chick only if we clicked on a sensuality level (only true freaks will understand) and if said candidate is an exceptional kisser. But not this sleazy clock-watching pair, I wouldn't screw them with your dick for money even though the recent census says the population of Kenyan women is almost equal to that of men. Also it tends to rain heavily in Nairobi especially when you've been drinking one must always pack a durex raincoat in the wallet it may be what saves your life in a storm. Many punters had their twelve minutes of fun and now they pray to God to just see another sunrise. Boys na girls, munanifeel?

I telescoped a benign but tipsy gaze on them just in case they wanted to steal my mano George but they can't give him the sugar that he craves. One of the other girls said hello handsome when she passed by us going to the loo, I answered 'hi sunshine' but she turned back and said I wasn't speaking to you - I was speaking to your friend. I was shocked because she looked like she wanted to scratch my eyes out. Thing is George didn't even look up, he's very allergic to certain women. I also find girls who make the first move as appealing as a Somali pirate, I don't know why. When I left the bar counter to go for a smoke at the poolside area a floor above, I mapped everyone's drinks' position to make sure no one was encroaching on my territory.

Eventually the women realised we were not immediate fodder laced with molasses because George had locked the palm of his hand on my knee and I was looking totally owned. Imelda may have had a point. So we decided to have innocent fun with Betty and Terry, who skillfully milked 3 drinks each from us of frontera chilean merlot wine expertly served by barman James. Betty, the one reeking fake Dior Addict Shine and stale dishwater breathe, sneakily showing the collar of a purple thong (so 90's) and desperately in need of manicure overhaul, told me she lives at Githurai 45 and said she wanted me to be a daddy for 5000 shillings for 2 shots bei ya kuongea (negotiable) at her digs. However breakfast, toothpaste and hot shower extra. And no early morning game drive which was the deal breaker. Cheap like lust is expensive, so I said sounds fab but no cigar babygal but here is a little something for you and your friend, enjoy yourselves - words even Bill Clinton couldn't bring himself to say to that woman. Being decent, gay men without firearms we declined to squeeze the melons or pinch their femme butts and left for home to start what we never like to finish.

On the way home we sang along to the CD with TLC's Red Light Special turned up loud...baby it's yours, all yours if you want it tonight. You can see the video here and fill in the blanks about what we did when we got home, lol. George says I'm more than a handful when I've had a drink. Guilty as charged.

Turkish delights of Nairobi

I discovered a new place to quell hunger pangs on the rare ocassion that I'm in the city centre. 'Bobo's' for the true Turkish taste is on Banda Street. It's a couple of eateries down from Tropez, that bar that a little bird tells me is popular with twink trade if you're looking. I demolished this tombik pocketbread that came stuffed with doner meat, tomato, onion and lettuce. A potential heartattack - due to the grease - washed down with a coke all for around 400 shillings.

When I went to wash my hands I found I couldn't get the soap dispenser to work: one of the very cute (not my type though, I prefer rugged men just like my George) waiters in denim dungarees came to my rescue. He said pull the knob out and then push it back in.
I said really? That's what I always do. Lol!

Sent from my iPhone

Where were you during the rescue of the Miners?

I'm sitting here having a lovely cup of black tea with ginger watching live CNN. George is at work, Imelda is lying on the couch all wrapped up like a sausage roll, she's not feeling too great. She's having what my mummy would call 'female problems' so I made her my version of a White Russian: a double tot of Smirnoff vodka, large spoon of honey from Kitui mixed with hot milk and a dash of Amarula. She's also working her way through a small box of a dozen ferroro rocher chocolates, not being her chatty self.

It's looking like it will be a quiet day here but one that I'll never ever forget. Thank you dear God for watching over the Chilean miners. Four out so far and just pure, spectacular jubilation for loved ones but twenty-nine still to go.

Meanwhile I discovered how to take a 'self' screenshot of my phone. Pretty cool.

Daniel arap Moi is a lonely old man in need of a woman

'Ayatollah’ Moi recently joined the lynch mob baying for the scalp of Special Programmes Minister Esther Murugi who is reported to have called on Kenyans to shed their prejudice and exercise tolerance towards fellow citizens of a different sexual orientation. Not content with the mess his mismanagement cost our country, Moi's recent judgement calls clearly demonstrate just how out of sync the octogenarian ex-president is with the nation’s psyche. Esther Murugi, whom I'm glad to note made no apology, was making the connection between stigma attached to homosexuality and unchecked spread of HIV due to fear and ignorance. The self-styled professor of politics needs to sit under a tree and pick one of the pupils from the many Moi Primary schools littered across the land to join up the dots for him.

Moi's hatred for homosexuals may stem from a particularly unpleasant prostate exam, yes - even ex presidents over 50 are advised to get their trunk checked annually (gay men without boyfriends are known to insist on more frequent inspections, hehehehe) but you've got to relax - it's for your own good so bite on an index finger (yours, silly, not the doctor's) or rungu if you've got it with you and take it like a man. Ok, I accept it's difficult to teach an old dog new tricks. With wife Lena since departed (RIP), one may ask why doesn't Moi go and slaver over the ample bosom of a willing school ex-headmistress. Being mindful of other people’s welfare I agonised over Moi’s predicament and concluded it's time that Safaricom or other public spirited company sponsored a TV show called Help Find Moi A Woman Widow. Oh the bittersweet irony, after the assassinations of that regime! Sons Gideon and Jonathan would be judges along with Kenneth Matiba and Charles Rubia who were both incarcerated during Moi's era, just for balance. It would be a huge success especially given the matronly charms of a specific TV presenter. Catherine Kasavuli could you please agree to be host?! After all he's always commenting on gays but we've never seen a woman on his arm, ha! Don't just talk, Kenya expects.

What's painfully unforgettable though is that millions of Kenyans died from the Aids epidemic while the past regime had its snout and paws stuck in the trough of public resources. But we picked ourselves up and moved on stronger, that's why I can gleefully say that Moi like that other caricature Robert Mugabe is just another attention whore who's past his sell by date.

Meanwhile back at the farm

Just arrived at my destination. These greenhouses take farming to a scale and intensity that's difficult to describe. Forget my 1/2 acre patch of green at home that I'm so proud of when I pick a bunch, this is the Wal-Mart of horticulture.

Off to my meeting, lunch is promised at Sopa Lodge. This being Keroche country, I'll allow myself a mild Summit lager shandy.

I'm on top of the world

Kenya really is God's own country - stunning vista across the Great Rift Valley at Viewpoint.

Naivasha here we come

Good morning folks. Had a nasty cold for the last three days caught from Imelda that I've passed on to poor George. I'm now on my way to Naivasha for a business lunch at one of the many flower farms there. I'm driving down that killer road so please remember me in your novenas. I haven't graduated to helicopters yet but the views are still breathtaking - expect a pic or two soon.

Have a wonderful day. xx xxx

Sent from my iPhone

Prime Minister's Sexy Office

Check out the PM's new office block. I took the pic this afternoon but was afraid some overzealous security people might grab my phone for photographing a 'state installation' or something ridiculous along those lines.
Lol!

Gay to gay living

Greetings, fellow travellers. The heavens opened late this afternoon when I was out in town. Nairobians hate rain, the splashes from muddy waters stain their crisp business clothes and that means expensive dry cleaning bills. What never ceases to amaze is how many people seem to be caught up when the weather changes: if it rained yesterday at 5 pm-ish (which it did) and you were drenched because you hadn’t carried a brolly, it’s also likely to rain today (which it has) and you’ll be drenched again without your brolly. Makes perfect sense to me. So for a second day running I was treated to the spectacle of elegantly dressed women covering their heads with supermarket plastic carrier bags to save their precious weaves. I’ve heard that some weaves can shrink causing the wearer much embarrassment attempting to account for loss of hair bounce to a husband or lover. That’s the explanation for some of the unwashed nests you see some women carrying on their heads.

Recently a Kenyan friend who lives in Germany entrusted me with some cash to assist him purchase a property. He absolutely loved the internet pictures of the maisonettes at Greenspan at the eastern part of the city. I viewed the show house and confirmed that they are indeed very good value for money at 7.8 million shillings. Armed with a registered power of attorney, I’ve found myself deep in a maze with scum-of-the-earth ( aka lawyers), robbers (aka bankers) and con artistes (aka real estate agents). And I’ve been down some seriously dubious parts of the city trying to conclude this deal - for instance today I was dodging other pedestrians on Luthuli Avenue. Yes, you’ll find drug-addicted prostitutes, a witch-doctor’s practise and money counterfeiters on the same floor as advocates engaged in conveyancing. Poetic justice if you ask me.

On my way back to the car I popped into Tuskys supermarket and bought garden shears because the handle on ours fell off the other day. I also picked up a plant sprayer, because I’ve been trying to grow petunias in a pot and I discovered that the usual watering-can holes let out too much water meaning the seeds didn’t stay buried. When I got to the car there was a light drizzle starting and I spotted a young lad hawking pirate dvd’s. He was standing by a shop entrance wearing a faded t-shirt announcing Hardrock Café - Maui. I asked him his name as I flicked through his wares and he answered Kama which is short for Kamau. He looked very interesting and with much potential if you know what I mean, judging by the well-toned forearms. But I’m not looking - because I’m happily almost married to George - but if I was looking I wouldn’t have attempted anything with Kama because I prefer guys who’ve at least attained the legal age to buy alcohol in Iowa. I said thanks very much fella and paid him just 50 shillings for the dvd of Knight and Day, I didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt because I think Mr Cruise and Ms Diaz don’t need to watch the pennies.

Now we’ve just had our dinner. Imelda made a lovely minced beef and vegetable sauce stuffed into al dente ruote pasta wagon wheels. Sinfully delish. Looks like an early night for us watching the dvd and then I’ll see if George is in the mood. Don’t you lovely people stay up worrying about me - I have my secret tricks to get him crazy and I know exactly what buttons I have to press, hahahaha. Night, night.        

Lunch for one

Today I'm just spending some me time in Westlands, Sarit Centre to be exact. I've just been served this appetising meal at Flavours of Africa by a smiling young woman with a captivating gap in her upper front teeth. When she asked what drink I wanted she innocently made what I only understand to be the universal blowjob-at-the-end-of-porno-scene gesture, lol! I said yes, yes - cock, please.....hehehehe. I don't think she got it because I'm now just sipping on the real thing.

The problem with leaving everything to God

Once we finally got through the monstrous traffic jam along Outer ring road we were on our bouncy way along the scarred Kangundo road taking in the usual sights: grown man urinating on the roadside bushes just before Njiru and muguka-chewing matatu drivers at the helm of Isuzu and Toyota Hiace coffins.  But they were no match for cool cat Imelda at just below the max speed limit. Women are poor at parking but they are better drivers than men and speed is not what it’s all about. Imelda made me listen to Eminem ft Rihanna  Love The Way You Lie about 11 times that day, it's still playing inside my head even now.... Just gonna stand there and watch me burn, but that's alright....ta tata tata.....

I vetoed her suggestion though that we stop at Mawe Mbili Resort Park just before the bypass junction at Ruai for some roast meat because I said, Mel at this rate I'll be hobbling with gout before I'm forty five then who will want me . So we had a break at Joska, at Two Stars Restaurant, (definitely NOT Michelin stars), I had chapati and beef soup while Imelda had rice and beef stew, but I shared mine with a photogenic fly which drowned not able to take off after binge-drinking my soup. Oh, before I forget, we also came across two road blocks manned by bent cops, they took a casual look at us and waved us through but we spied them shame their uniform taking a hundred shillings to also allow minibuses carrying excess passengers.  Petty Corruption is an infectious and difficult to cure disease festering in greed. Poor Africans like myself seem to suffer it most.These kleptomaniac cops prefer hosing down the blood of maimed and dead citizens from minibuses cabrioletted after they've collided with speeding lorries. Further up the road Imelda pointed out a lorry that had a sign painted on its tail, hanging at your own risk.
 
Anyway, we finally arrived at my friend  Nyiva's home near a place called Mbilini just before 1.30 pm. Nyiva is also an ex-colleague who is recovering from recent  serious injuries sustained riding pillion on a bodaboda (motorcycle taxi). She also got her left foot caught in the spokes and smashed her elbow in the subsequent crash. She's making painfully slow progress getting fed with a straw through wired jaw. Nyiva exhausted her savings paying hospital bills now her teen son is getting bored at home because mum can't afford his school fees. Police still haven't found the reckless rider who abandoned Nyiva bleeding in a ditch when it happened. Like so many Kenyans Nyiva only said just leave it to God.

So Imelda and I were both very quiet in contemplation on the way back to Nairobi. Nyiva's words kept running through my mind like ticker tape. Leave it to God. Afghanistan. Beltran Leyva Cartel and the drug war in Mexico.  Motorcycle tips passenger over in Kangundo.  God.

Eid Mubarak

Imelda and I are on our way to Kangundo to visit a friend. At the moment though we are just getting baked under the hot Nairobi sun because Imelda opted for the Outer Ring Road instead of Jogoo Road now we are at a standstill at the Kariobangi roundabout. Maina Kageni is doing a good job at Classic 105 fm spinning some superb old skool. Treat her like a lady just played, I winked at Imelda, she says I always treat her like one. I said that's easy to do because you are a true lady.

Seeds of discord

I went out today to buy tree seeds because I’m tired of getting ripped off by the nurseries on Limuru Road. It was a lovely drive racing manic matatus from just after Muthangari, it was so exhilarating with the sun roof open and watching the lush green of trees on the central reservation go past, until I think after Uthiru where some quack of a road engineer decided to build a concrete solid wall for miles. So dangerous, expensive and unnecessary. I smiled when I passed ‘Nucleur’ service station.

I turned left at Zambezi (the filling station not the river otherwise you'll be in the wrong country Mr Livingstone, lol). My pirelli scorpion tyres and suspension groaned at the sight of the torn tarmac, stone and soil omelette of a road leading to Nderi where the Kenya Forestry Seed Centre at KEFRI is located.

When I got to the gate it was one thirty the guard said sorry but the staff are out to lunch. I said sawa sawa I'll just leave the car here and come back later so I alighted and started wandering down the gentle slope to dusty and sleepy Nderi trading centre. I also took this photo of the sign outside - one gold star for you and a kiss from me if you spotted the donkey.

I saw a young knock-kneed woman with lovely dimples selling fruit and veg and I said hello gorgeous. I asked her whether she could do me a mixed fruit salad, she laughed hahahaha until I could almost see her liver and said this is not Nairobi where you can buy anything. For instance, dear reader, you can buy an iPhone new in a box for 4999 shillings (less than 60 dollars) in the less salubrious parts of the capital city but it's designed in Shenzhen not California. Anyway, I said to Fruity Lady I know this is Nderi and settled for a banana at 5 shillings and told her ubarikiwe (be blessed), she replied nishabarikiwa tayari (I have already been blessed). Then I walked further down to Nderi Gen. Store which was advertising ice cold soda however this turned out to be room temperature soda because the fridge was not switched on. I walked back to the seed centre as it was now nearly two, passing idle groups of hungry looking young men. They turned to stare as I passed, George says people stare at me because I usually avoid eye contact and I have a walk that says I know who you did last night - only I know this can't be true if I wasn't there.

2pm I was back at KEFRI and bought my seeds from an unhelpful and unremarkable man let's call him Zephania. I think he pays money to speak because he only uttered monosyllabic phrases. His demeanour was unbothered and jaded. Then I was punished by a one hour wait from the cashier who was still out to lunch. She strolled in at 18 minutes past 3 looking bored with no apology. Because I can also be a petty, spoiled brat and I was feeling pissed off I didn’t even say thank you when she gave me my change, I just stormed off. Annoying public servants such as Miss Attitude are a law unto themselves.

Speaking of which on my way home I was stuck in traffic for more than an hour because a truck carrying some plant machinery had stalled and flow was restricted to one lane southbound. Arrrgggh x 99 to the power of 13. Traffic cop Scholastica Mutheu brandished her baton banging on car bonnets to stop matatu drivers from adding to the chaos. In spite of her valiant efforts I still got caught up in rush hour traffic further up the road. Not good.

Nairobi City Council’s Walk Of Shame

Yesterday Imelda and I ventured to Gikomba market, a ward on the east of Nairobi with a thriving industry for many things. There you find jua kali artisans hammering and welding the most fantastic array of creations out of sheets of metal from storage trunks to guttering. We were after a barbecue which we quickly found and purchased after about 45 minutes haggling with enterprising Patrick Omondi, a very likeable chap who told me he’s been running his business with his orphaned nephew Tony for 8 years.  Patrick even ordered us scalding-hot over sweetened tea served in green camping mugs; great guy with the whitest pearls I’ve seen in a long time and very surprising given how much sugar he puts in his tea. These are the faces of Kenyans that make me proud to be one unlike bloated politicians who make me sick. We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office (Aesop).

After we loaded our purchase in the boot we both felt ready for lunch, Imelda said she wanted to eat some stewed tripe and I also felt like having some because it’s been a long time mainly because none of our household can stand the smell when it’s getting cooked. But we enjoy eating it, funny that, I know! I said to Imelda I know just the place where we can have some delicious tripe stew with ugali and lashings of hot kachumbari  salad even though you risk catching some serious stomach bug due to suspect sanitation so I drove the short distance eastwards to Burma market because people should never fear an adventure.

Well, after parking the car we had to wade through the most disgusting unimaginable filthy muck of muddy gunge. You can see the picture here in case you don’t believe me.  It stank worse than raw sewage and looked like the vomit of a pregnant hippo. The bods at City Hall and whoever has been in-charge of the Constituency Development Fund ought to hang their heads in shame at the very least before rolling up their sleeves to shovel away this slime. Then they should explain how they can collect business permit fees, rates and god knows what other taxes and allow Nairobians to eke out a living in such deplorably unhygienic conditions.

Anyway I hope I haven’t put you off your lunch or the erotic thoughts you’re entertaining about the new colleague in the tight top in your office when you really should be working. Actually,  I didn’t even eat the tripe after  that sight which believe it or not was right bang outside the entrance to the market! When we got to Edu’s stall - whom I haven’t seen in at least three years -  I opted for roast meat and Imelda had stewed chicken with a saucer plate each of hot kachumbari. Both our meals  were excellent and at budget friendly prices.  You guys should visit Edu’s stall, say Tamaku sent you there for free food! Lol! But the moment was almost ruined afterwards when we had to retrace our steps over the soggy, gooey mess we both nearly brought up our lunch which would even have been a decoration to what was under our feet.      

    

How to make love to a woman

Hi diary. What have I been up to? Well this morning Imelda and I decided to go to Nairobi's Central Business district, something we very rarely do. The streets are just too crowded and it feels as if one is always navigating around people who stop to chat in the middle of the sidewalks oblivious of other pedestrian traffic. Anyway we parked the car at the Stanley carpark where the Nakumatt store that was destroyed by fire used to be. Then we made our way along Kimathi Street, Imelda was making me laugh saying that I should have worn that scarf I recently knitted for George because I was saying how cold I was in just a t-shirt. It's ridiculous that Nairobi is still chilly in the mornings even now in September.

We looked at some shop windows along Mama Ngina Street and went into Bata just next to Dormans where I treated Imelda to a lovely pair of brown Hush Puppies. She was over the moon with them. I was too with the free gift of a hijab which I got as part of the Eid Mubarak promotion that Bata have on at the moment. After that we popped into Dormans for an early lunch. I had grilled beef kebabs with sorrowful looking chips and served with a slice of tomato and a slice of cucumber! Imelda had a fish curry served with fried vegetable rice and a more substantial side salad.

I was feeling sleepy after the meal so Imelda drove us back home. I've just turned on my laptop sitting in the garden thinking about that hijab which I plan to wear for George coming home from work today. We can have some role play, I think I'll ask him to call me Shaafia for one night only, lol! I wanted to know how to wear the hijab like the alluring Kenyan Muslim women that fascinate me so much when I see them on the streets so I decided to ask google how. When I typed 'how to..' the top suggestion that showed up was 'how to make love to a woman'....Hmmmm. Surely.

Where am I?

I'm all alone at Heathrow waiting to board BA 65 for Nairobi after 3 days in London. Weather's been miserable as usual, lots of rain showers. I can't wait to get back home even though I'll miss today's celebrations to mark our new Constitution. But I'll be with you all in spirit, in fact I'm just popping over to the Crown Rivers Bar in the departure lounge for a quick double. I know it's naughty at this hour but just this once, ok. Cheers my dears!

What I did on Wednesday

Woke up in the morning just before 8 to find George had already left for work. After a quick shower and change I came downstairs to the kitchen where Imelda had my breakfast waiting. I find it too chilly nowadays to sit out in the veranda in the morning. Imelda asked me, did you have a nice sleep and I lied and said yeah we even had the most amazing sex. Truth is I hadn't been getting any, George is working late at a new site on Ngong Road where they're fitting CCTV and other security gadgets. So in fact it had been one month, two days, nine hours and forty-two minutes since we last mauled each other. Anyway after Imelda cleared away the plates I asked her what about you Mel, are you getting your pipes cleaned out regularly, she laughed coyly and said don't worry Tam, a girl always finds a way. Hmmmm ok. I said good, let me know if I can be of any assistance or there's any facilitation required towards fulfilling that enterprise. Note to self: must remember to get Imelda some new rechargeable batteries for her bedroom 'sat nav'.

Ten o'clockish Zawadi, my friend Mike’s wife, came by bearing gifts (pun intended). I'd done some work last week for Mike and some other of his business associates. We never discussed pay, I've often said to people whenever I accept to do consultancy work to pay me what they think is fair. Some of you would say 10 shillings but that's just to be mean. Most times it actually works, so I took the 330k that you see here and said thanks very much Zawa, not bad for three days’ work. Don't worry Mr KRA, I'll file on time. Sorry, what's that about 'itemise all earnings', I'm slightly deaf in one ear you know, haha.

Then I went online to deal with some mail, I also read Cassandrae's blog which is just insane because I've not come across that level of psychosis recently. But it's funny and clever unlike this blog. When I finished I came back to the kitchen and we had a lettuce, pears and olives salad with some garlic bread and prosciutto ham. Imelda needed to be at college(accountancy) by 2pm so we got in the car and she drove leisurely till Parklands via Sarit Centre where we stopped so I could stick the 300k in the bank.

The lovely teller called Stella - I think she's in love with me - she asked in a lost girl's voice where have you been Bwana Tamaku, I said shughuli mingi with work and stuff but now I'm here and so happy to see you. I was thinking hello darling I've got an ATM card why would I want to be in the bank every day. However I do encourage women of all shapes and breast sizes by flirting back at them like a good Bashanova so I leaned closer to the window and said you're never out of my mind Stesh in fact right now you're driving me out of it, oh and blue really is your colour, you sexy minx you. She giggled back the squeal that a dolphin would understand to mean come and take me right now here on this counter I don't care if the other customers want to watch. I said cool it baby by fanning yourself with this 1000 shillings note when you go for lunch, nice day mwah, mwah. Then I grabbed my receipt and escaped back to the car.

I stayed in Parklands, went to the sports club and did some cycling while thinking about lots of stuff like Isaiah 58:Verses 1 to 14 (one of my favs - the only ones I can recite from memory). I thought what if the Belmez Faces are really true, and who stole my pet kitten Daisy when I was only six years old which is when my heart was first broken into little pieces. Could that be the root cause for my homosexuality - a pussy snatched from a boy? Definitely some food for thought there. I still had my Oakley black whiskers shades and earphones on listening to Mbilia Bel’s Nakei Nairobi - it's simply genius, makes me sad and happy at the same time, nostalgia sometimes has that effect too.

Afterwards I did some weights to tone up my wrists and neck muscles and then had a shower. Because I'd sweated so much I didn't pee in the cubicle nor did I rub one out though I must admit I was feeling very horny from the lack of it. I also had two sneaky cigarettes in the car. When I was still in the car park George rang and asked where are you I said I'm at Parklands Sports Club. He said wait for me I'm coming. So it was a wonderful surprise, prophetic even, because we picked up Imelda and drove home like the happy family we are and then later that night George and I really got off. I'm surprised you didn't hear us if you live around Kiambu Road, the racket we caused, woooiii, hehehe.

Scarecrows like Apostle Dorothy Kweyu can’t walk the talk

I’d like those of you who haven’t done so to meet Dorothy Kweyu, world-renowned thinker who happens to be revise editor at Kenya’s most successful media stable. Dee is also a shining beacon of everything Christian and how to raise the perfect kids as she often likes to remind her readers. Her least successful exploit though is as a mother. Why do I say that? Her hobby, when she’s not shaking the tambourine to O When The Saints Go Marching In, is gay bashing and preaching intolerance. Lately this has also become her specialist subject at work. This Dorothy is no friend.

People like Dee with their Victorian prudery do a great disservice to children whom they fervently wish to imbue an alien moral and social code at odds with modern life. They make poor parents because of their blissful ignorance hiding behind the scriptures whenever their capacity to further interrogate their own particular sense of sexual morality is called to question. They can only regurgitate some verse from an over-thumbed Old Testament promising the wrath of God over matters they disagree. DK, you’ll find that kids nowadays need more than just ‘because I tell you so.’

Dotty is obsessed with the lives of gay and lesbian citizens seeing them as the greatest evil that has permeated all parts of everyday Kenyan life. When a matatu driver cuts her up while approaching a roundabout - assuming she drives a car and not a horse-drawn carriage - it's because he must be sitting on an unlubricated buttplug. Of course he is driving like a maniac because he's dashing off for a quick shag with the conductor. People like her often blame others for their inadequacies. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, she probably thinks the reason she hasn't made the higher echelons is because she refuses to crop her hair and wear combat trousers to work.

Dorothy will find it a compliment when I say she has been uneconomical with the truth because I’m a gay man and therefore an ‘abomination’ to her god and fellow men. I’ve also read some rather unflattering things said about St. Dorothy. You can read them here. She is misusing her position by espousing personal prejudices in the national press by writing homophobia-filled articles and only choosing to invite 'expert' input from right-wing Christian doctors who share her bigotry. NMG take note, this kind of unbalanced journalism is unhealthy.

I actually wanted to call Ms Kweyu a Christian Taliban but that would be unfair on the real Taliban who are at least prepared to die for what they believe in. In the previous piece she revealed how she went against her conscience to revise for publication a story about gay acceptance in church. That's why I've taken it upon myself to revise the work of the revise editor.

On account of that admission alone it’s not surprising that Dot has slipped up and highlighted that she also lacks the courage of her convictions.

Red or Green We Are All Kenyans

Whatever the outcome of tomorrow's Referendum, let's all preach peace. xx xxx

Diasporic Acid

I continue to do my bit to expand the vocabulary for Kenyanese speakers. ‘Diasporic acid’ is a phrase which one can use to describe vitriolic postings on Mashada.com or Misterseed.com by some Kenyans who now live toil in Kansas or Essex. These mainly homophobic commentators in the Diaspora like to trade vile insults that would cause offense to a drunken sailor on all manner of petty or imagined issues taking place back at home. Invariably these spats never fail to expose primal tribal tensions. It's a fact that some of the worst post election violence in Kenya's history was witnessed on poorly moderated internet forums and chat rooms all in the name of free speech.

It's easy to spot a recently returned acidic diasporian on the streets of Nairobi by the over-sized baggy jeans, baseball tops, Timberlands and fake bling acquired after months of double shifts at Grange Acres Care Home. Brimming with a sackful of Dorahs, Pauds and sometimes Urohs they'll dazzle locals with their largesse at Simmers on a Tuesday afternoon. Don't forget the newly acquired accents which come on and off like Oprah's weight. Words that have an ‘i’ are suddenly pronounced with an é - taxi, Nairobi even Uchumi become taxé, Naérobé, Uchumé. I take my hat off to the poor but calculating local getting thus entertained to death. In exchange for the free beer and food they have to feign puppy-dog concentration by nodding happily to marathonic monologues that include ‘..back in the UK every dog has a dentist...’ or ‘..Shakira lives in my hood in New Jersey.....’

A month later having spent a small fortune on booze, insatiable relatives, a serviced apartment with jacuzzi and fitted sluts these lonely, drained and dejected characters are easily recognisable at JKIA waiting to board a flight back to the Lands of Plenty where a dingy bedsit and eye watering credit card bills await.

Example of use

Non-resident Kenyan: Fo shizzle ma nizzle, I could murder a bizzle*. Where the nearest KFC at?

Resident Kenyan: Man, you’ve got a bad case of diasporic acid!

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*Buffalo to you and me