Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Livin' La Vida Loca

Ricky Martin, father of two, coming out gay has not been a surprise to
many. Come on you'd have to have had your gaydar disabled not to have
known it, if Shake Your Bon Bon still hadn't given the game away...

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Do Kenyan robots deserve any human rights?

Not to tar everyone with the same brush but Kenyan society is fast reaping the abundant fruits of a mainstream education system that spits out legion after legion incapable of blending ideals and rhetoric into reality. It’s fair to say that we have a significant walking-mass wounded by rote learning. These puppets by the time they are in early adulthood are ripened for a life of manipulation, to be controlled and guaranteed to operate with clockwork predictability even as they quench their thirst for 'knowledge'. I’ve come across so many of them festooned with MBAs and PHDs in my working and social life, so sad because they knew their stuff well and were very good at what they did but when you really looked in their eyes the passion and fire in them was gone and had been replaced by glassy currency signs. I watched in amazement as they looked the other way while government continued to ignore its gay citizens.

We went calling on those among us who could wield their influence because we had heard them say how much they understood and embraced the spirit of Universal Human rights and fairness, especially those who preached thy neighbour’s love. But we found them already in bed with the oppressor making furious creaky merriment in the same unoriginal fashion. Hanging on the door-knob was a do-not-disturb sign in the familiar fonts of the previously trusted message bearers inked in the warm blood and tears of the hunted. That’s when it dawned on me that you can’t entrust an honest debate on important issues to these robots. They never truly believed in anything worth defending but only went through the motions sleepwalking in complex angles while foraging for shiny tokens to pin onto their rusting armour. Their self-interests had made them blind to ethical dimensions.

I think I’d have more respect for them if they just stopped pretending to defend any human rights.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Senses

I took this picture in the garden one morning last week. Lately I like
my tea black with one sugar, though I've been asking Imelda to make it
for me white without milk. She's a clever one and always gets it right
but I don't think she's really listening how I say it...

So this pic - it's of beautiful bougainvillea flowers growing along
the fence. If you look closely you'll also see the butterfly that I
was very surprised to notice after I'd taken the picture...

Friday, March 19, 2010

Paper Scissors Rock

Hey, we haven't had a vid in a while. I was watching this one today and sensing some homoeroticism, what do you guys think?

My untamed youth

I took this shot of downtown Nairobi on my way from a friend’s office on Commerce House 5th floor, Moi Avenue. That’s the building that housed Florida 2000 nightclub, that wonderful den of iniquity. Actually last time I was in F2, Flonje as a true aficionado calls it, was at least 18 years ago. But as you can see this time I was in the vicinity during the day, mid-afternoon to be exact.

Years and years ago when I was a still a chicken (14-16 years old) I was a regular fixture at the nightclub even during school nights ogling at the dancers (male and female, all amazing) and their super-toned bodies. Those were the days frittering away my parents’ cash (money that I could do with right now, by the way) cavorting with hookers, drinking beer and eating pilau with kachumbari downstairs outside the ART shop with pimps, drug dealers and taxi drivers. All this while the parents, my siblings and most normal people slept away…

Yes, there was a time when Nairobi was a safe place to walk at all hours, except on occasion when I encountered policemen with dogs on patrol around that dodgy zone behind KCB Kencom House as I club-hopped from F2 to Tamango (before it was called Visions) on Kimathi Street at 3 am. Always the same script wanting to arrest me on trumped-up drunk and disorderly or loitering charges unless I greased their palms with some chai or tea. I wish I'd go back to those days because I'd be carrying a flask of hot tea for such encounters . Luckily an accident of birth meant I bore my famous grandfather’s name whose mere mention I’d learned early in life could open the right doors wide and the cops normally ended up escorting me to the other club and even gave a little salute as I trotted up the steps for part 2. I guess I was a corrupt little Kenyan, just like most of the others back then, lol! I was also a bit of a brat...

Back to F2 and its mock zebra-skin carpet which I understand nowadays even has a strip club next door. Some nights I’d forget myself only to crawl out of the nightclub in the morning to dazzling daylight and bustling streets. My parents usually left the house for work before we got up, so I’d just go home on the bus and sleep the booze and other substances off before getting up to go back to town to pick up my Enduro trail bike where I’d left it unchained outside F2 because I didn’t want to get myself killed riding under the influence. In fact how I passed my exams I’ll never know because my teachers often wrote in my report card, ‘shows great potential and should go far but is easily distracted’. At least I never missed a scouts overnight camping trip and I never ever went to school pissed….hahahahaa

I also learned the valuable art of keeping people sweet (always smile whatever the situation and never say a bad word behind someone’s back) so the servants and siblings even covered for me. Of course I forged dad’s signature on absence letters to school and one-finger typed these out on mummy’s old manual Olivetti for authenticity. That soon unraveled through a painful ordeal which is a story for another day. Oh, the folly of youth but I was having too much fun reducing my life expectancy by at least 10 years while experimenting with more stuff than many people fit into a lifetime. I count myself very lucky to have escaped unscathed because I quickly got bored and grew up super fast and just managed to get my act together. By the time my friends from school were discovering nightclubs I had that part well and truly behind me. One of these days I might even tell you about my graduation to the massage parlour ‘phase’ with the ‘extras’, if you’re as nice as you usually are.

Sorry about the pic by the way, not being top notch, it’s taken using my iphone’s measly 2 mp camera. I damaged my other camera recently when I dropped it on the bathroom floor (don’t ask) and I can’t seem to get anyone to fix it. I’m not shy, if anyone has a spare slr feel free to swing it my way and I’ll take some interesting shots just for you. Yes you big, big boy there in the tight jeans and nice butt. Eeww, that sounds so creepy.. lol!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Smart toothbrushes

Imelda replaced the toothbrushes in our bathroom yesterday. I notice
that she put a new pink one on my sink yet again while George got the
blue Colgate flex. Pink for girls, blue for boys, right? Mmmmm...

I'm a Scorpio so I do tend to over analyze things but I can't help
myself wondering whether she now just sees me as George's bitch, lol!

Oh well, whatever....)

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The winning formula?

I'm at home not doing much just playing a second game of scrabble with
Imelda. She's currently wiping the floor with me, coming up with
'subzero' on a triple word score. She's already won the first game of
the day. Aarrrggh õ›. But now she's gone off to prepare lunch, so I've
been naughty and just switched some of her letters. Hehehe, I've also
had a good rummage inside the bag with the letter tiles, lol!
Ssssshhh.....

Imelda almost caught me red-handed when she came back unexpectedly to
bring me a cup of Milo, I thought I was going to have a heart-attack
but I managed to pull myself together though I couldn't look her in
the eye.,,

I hope you don't think I'm a bad person; but I'm feeling a little
guilty...

Sunday, March 14, 2010

50 ways to find a lover in Nairobi

I actually look forward to bedtimes these days and not just for what you might be thinking. We are normally in bed by 11pm with me snuggled in The Nook, that special place that George keeps warm just for me. It’s where I can hear his heart talking to my soul. I love reading in bed and I’m used to it now even while he’s watching pirate copies of CSI or Heroes or Band of Brothers. Yes, George won that battle so we still have the tv with dvd in the bedroom. Last night I wanted to watch a copy of Chokora that a friend got for me the other day but George said it’s too depressing. From what I hear it will make you very MAD. Anyway we’ll watch it with Imelda tomorrow while he’s at work. I don’t want to precipitate another bust-up. You might think that I’m a walkover but I try not to sweat the small stuff because we are both so happy now.

Currently I’m enjoying reading 50 Ways to Find a Lover by Lucy-Anne Holmes. I picked up a brand new copy abandoned in the airport lounge on my recent trip to London. Which reminds me, imagine how shocked I was to discover the other day that there are websites where you can hire a lover in Nairobi for the night! Or day! Even by the hour! You can now meet real gorgeous men with mouth-wateringly ripped abs or sexy women with curves as tight as the streets of Monte-Carlo. If you like a varied diet you can even have both together. All at the click of a button and of course the slimming of your wallet. A world away from how one woman tried to get me interested not so long ago. My research shows it's even possible to arrange the rendezvous in your office boardroom for the horny but busy exec. By the way if ‘supermarket’ (self-service or taking matters into your own hands solo in the privacy of your bedroom) with lights dimmed and aromatic oils burning is more your thing, you can even pay and download local porn clips instantly, wait let me finish, and away you go come, lol! If you live in a flat just turn the volume up high, the neighbours will envy you thinking you’re such an animal. Go tiger..

It’s all happening here in our supposedly deeply religious and morally righteous African country.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

A parent’s guide to the finger of god business (pg rated)

Some concerned parents wrote to me when TV anchor Esther’s saga broke out. They said please Tamaku my kids are scared when they hear about Freemasons and people wanting to kill others and they’re asking difficult questions. Can you find us a way to explain what’s happening to their role model? So I obliged and embellished the story somewhat so that youngsters could understand. You can read it and dramatize it like a game for the kids at bedtime in nice Harry Porter style to get the message home:

Once upon a time there was a famous and very beautiful girl from the telly. One day she decided to run away from her handsome boyfriend who had smooth and well manicured fingers to a wizard called Timberstick. When he got her to a castle in Runda he began the ancient and secret game of 4ply (here you can sing a little lullaby, 1ply, 2ply, you get the drift). Not to be confused with foreplay which all boys know is just a waste of playstation time, 4ply is a spell practiced under a moonless night to the hypnotising strains of a lone saxophonist. However when you grow up and if you don’t study hard and go to college, you will hear it mentioned in player parlance as ‘short-circuiting a babe’s cpu’. So, this is what Timberstick did with his talented guitar-calloused and blinged up one digit, which came to be known throughout the kingdom simply as da Finga. It was studded like a courgette’s skin and curved like an aubergine, lovely vegetables that you must always eat whenever mummy cooks them for you. They are excellent sources of nutrients but only when chopped and cooked. Now, when boys were still writing with pencils, the wicked wizard was already printing in colour. He was also very experienced in the art of taking off a girl's bra with only one hand. Soon the beautiful girl was frothing at the lips close to dying but not at all in a bad way. She was riding through the sky without a care like a runaway helium balloon. Higher, higher close to heaven, when she saw how bright and beautiful heaven was she cried out: ‘Woooi , OMG…. Oh My God, what is that?’ (Note to parents: feel free to adapt the cry to suit your child’s deportment, religiosity etc, but keep it real)

The evil 4plyer cackled back to her, ‘That my princess is the finger of god’.

And the moral of the story, children? You must tell your teacher if someone wants to put your finger in the electric pencil sharpener. Goodnight my angels, night night….

(Editor’s note: We are trying to see whether Disney will make a movie)


Moving on swiftly here is a finger joke for the adults:

One day John rang his wife from the offshore rig where he worked.
‘Honey don't worry, I’ve had a serious injury but am ok. An accident occurred and my finger was cut OFF.....'She yelled, ‘The hole finger?’ He answered, ‘NO, NO, the one right next to it. ...’

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Tamaku does London

When a generous client, mentor, one- time compaƱero and sometime benefactor sends an urgent email saying I want you up in England for a couple of days, all expenses paid, you don’t say mmmm, I’m not sure what I’ve got on my diary, Sanchez – let me think about it and I’ll get back to you. This is what happened to me the other week, so I hopped on a plane and arrived to a chilly London. One thing I noticed is that more roads are now potholed (shock, horror) but nothing remotely like Nairobi roads. My tattooed cabbie Dave told me the heavy snows of the previous months have played havoc on infrastructure, but I heard as if he called it infrastuckture. Apparently this happens when water-logged newly re-carpeted surfaces expand causing cracks on roads when it freezes. You learn something new every day, not all of it useful. Also did you know that jelly beans are good for causing a bowel movement? And another thing matey, Audi A6 estates and BMW 5 series are rubbish in snow, even many 4x4’s except Land Rover Discos, naturally, will struggle but you’d expect German cars to know a thing about snow. Talking of cars, Shiko-Msa if I get you that red Toyota Solara people might start to talk, hehehe...

I had two straight days of intense meetings in Bishopsgate a short walk from Liverpool Street station and went back to my 3 star hotel room in Wembley after like every nice gay businessman does. I wished I’d brought my toys to keep me entertained as I watched porno on the old lappie, hahahaha, but a few nights without never hurt anyone though it can make you cranky in the mornings. The crowded tube carriage is one of my least favourite places anywhere during rush hour but it’s a microcosm of life in one of the world’s greatest cities. Desperately gaunt druggies in sodden coats on their way to chase dragons sat next to nervous Goldman Sachs millionaire wankers bankers in chic Aquascutum vintage coats on their way to/from a rat race for humans. And the women putting on their makeup flawlessly on the tube, vulgar with a capital V like Vietnam decadence, yet so captivating. My alter ego has extremist socialist views especially when I spot subtle displays of excess leave alone ostentatious ones. To be honest with you, I think the word I’m really looking for is envy.

London was like enforced rehab for me because I didn’t drink a drop except on Saturday when I allowed myself more than a little treat to compensate. Saturday evening was raining incessantly, the kind of night when I’d never go out in Nairobi so I just sat in the hotel bar which was full of confident Man Utd fans over for the match with Aston Villa on Sunday. I met travelling discordant couple Marilyn and Lee (he’s Manu while she’s a hardcore brummie Villa fan) and we polished off a bottle of Bombay Sapphire and later chased with some Disaronno, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson about mixing drinks by now. Duly ginned, we blue-toothed email addresses and they said they’d come to Nairobi later in the year but it might just have been the drink talking.

The hotel where I stayed is on Empire Way (suitably named for a queen, I thought) and I had a standard room overlooking a building site, I think it’s for Wembley City. But I didn’t mind because I could see the stadium arch from my room. I took this picture on my phone on Saturday night when I walked round the back of the hotel smoking a cigarette in the drizzle and after speaking on the phone to George. Sorry but my phone doesn’t have a zoom. There was a private party in one of the function rooms at the rear and when I heard PYT blasting away I was so tempted to gatecrash but I’m so glad I didn’t even though I can still shake it. Also my return flight home was on Sunday morning and I had the taxi booked for 6.

When I arrived back in Nairobi, George picked me up from the airport and I said to him hey you my PYT, I really missed your loving. He said show me how much so we went straight home to bed and just had milky cocoa and biscuits after my shower, lol, you know what we actually had. Yes, yes, it was very good...


Saturday, March 6, 2010

Dear Diary

It’s been one day at a time resisting this urge to mock one Esther Rungu, a hubby called Timberdick, a pastor by the name Hellon and that Finger.

So far so good.

I am a good person but I’m feeling weak. The temptation is so strong.

Will I make it?

Friday, March 5, 2010

Blog followers and the power of prayer

Hello there my luvvies and esteemed friends, we have a new follower….drum roll please....welcome to number 80th! Group hug everybody, feel all the love and warmth that we should me sharing? Wey-hey, ho ho, this calls for a little jig on the kitchen floor with Imelda and a cold tusker down my throat (first one of the day, I hasten to add). Do you think we would be a cult if you all came to our house and you guys stayed over forever and ever just like one big happy gay family

On a serious note please don't forget to pray for the flooding in Samburu to subside and for our sister the lovely Esther Arunga to wake up and smell the shit around her. How many people who love and care about her is this beautiful woman determined to hurt? Please God, please please give us a happy ending....amen.

Oh, hold on, I've just been handed my bottle of tusker baridi (the champers of beers) and a note by Imelda – "how many people do I want to love me???" Eh? Girl knows me tooo well.  Now let me shoot some pool with her and drink some lager, that's enough work for a furahiday….. xx xx xxx



Thursday, March 4, 2010

Habari gani? Give us a wave

Hello, hello, just a quickie to say we're fine thanks for asking. I haven't danced the last dance yet!  I've managed to avoid falling under a moving bus and when George mixed me a drink the other day I called out to him, 'no aconite root poison for me, honey bunch sweetie pie.' I'm just snowed under with some urgent work for a demanding client at the moment. I haven't spied a white car trailing us nor have strange men in suits and dark glasses turned up at the house asking to speak to me (sigh, a fantasy).

I arrived back from the UK on Sunday night unscathed. The brakes on my car work ok, and the drinking water doesn't taste any different however I was reading somewhere that you start to die the day you are born….

That's all for now my lovely friends. I'm feeling very cheery today so just wanted to say hi and that I'll be back soon. Oh, I've also caught a mild cold but nothing serious I hope. I'm happy with life generally and, contrary to rumours spreading like Starbucks, my blogging mojo hasn't deserted me.