Friday, August 27, 2010

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!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

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.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

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.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Sunday, August 1, 2010

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 or 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!

*Buffalo to you and me