Monday, September 26, 2011

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To all our concerned friends

This is a quick note to say that we're all alive and well, just been busy doing some 'maintenance'.

Check back soon. xxx

Monday, May 2, 2011

Obama says Osama 'dead'

We're watching Citizen TV where President Obama is giving a statement from the White House to announce that fugitive terrorist Osama bin Laden has been killed. Whoop!

Friday, April 8, 2011

What would Jomo make of all this?

I'm sitting at home watching Live NTV showing Uhuru Kenyatta, son of Kenya's founding president, appearing at the Hague accused of crimes against humanity. Looks like the penny has just dropped...

Thursday, April 7, 2011

'The Ocampo Six' released today at the Hague

A blockbuster featuring three Politicians, one Civil Servant, a Policeman and a Midget. Crimes against Humanity - shot entirely on location in Kenya. An Impunity Production by Tribal Films.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Normal service resumes shortly

Hello sweeties. I'm ok, George is well too. In fact I left him in our bed purring away - it's a story for another day. I'm at the Muthaiga roundabout in traffic listening to Classic 105 heading for a 9 o'clock meeting at Parklands Sports Club with the insurance guy.

Should I disclose that I've recently received death threats?

Sent from my iPhone® wireless device

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Someone needs a doctor (this is the end of Lavish living)

Monday night 7th March I was driving home at about 9pm listening to The Jump Off on Homeboyzradio, hosted I think by Corine. By the way Corine is a killer DJ with mad skills if you like your r n b and rap. I was in my white shirt and tie from a meeting but now feeling like a gangster listening to Black & Yellow, Eminen ft Dr Dre, and the ilk of Rihanna, etcetera etcetera. I can still hear Dr Dre in my head - I started this gangster shit and this the motherfucking thanks I get. And, Ring Ding Dong. I bet you only true aficionados will appreciate Me Against The world and What You Won't Do For Love by Tupac. But the best poetry ever must be from Tupac - you claim to be a playa but I fucked your wife. Ouch, Biggie that must have hurt. Before I forget, Nate Dogg, who went to be with the Creator 15th March 2011; RIP son, you were the true regulator. People in my professional circles would be dismayed to discover my tastes in music, lol. Sorry to digress but DJ Corine always sounds extra perky, sassy like she's clenching a mechanical rabbit to death. For the record I love a girl without a speed governor who knows girls should also enjoy sex by taking control and going on top. Factual. Yes, indeedy I do.

I was feeling very horny about Gee and me, reminiscing how things were so sweet between us before Lavish and the way I messed up. My team members at work say I've become a real arsehole to be around. I know it's only because I haven't had any gay sex in 2011 although I had an ego boost boning one of Kenya's finest - Lavish Maingi. As a result my confidence is now at sky-high, I feel like I have the world at my feet. On the home-front George and I are now on 80% normal talking terms but still sleeping apart. We got stewed together Saturday night on Skyy vodka and cranberry juice while re-watching a DVD of that disturbing American comedy Testees. If you haven't watched it then I suggest you do so asap, it's one of life's sexless orgasms. That night we started to reconnect again, we cuddled together on the floor wrapped inside a sleeping bag. I was disappointed because nothing happened to quench my fleshly desires but we did kiss and the passion is still there. I guess my recent badness is still a sore point with Gee but I'm working on fixing things. The healing process may take long but I have hope as luckily for me Gee is a fair man who knows that deep down I'm not evil, I'm only human.

So last week after I passed the Village Market guess who called me? You won't believe it but it was partner in crime Lavish. She had come down to Nairobi for the Ce'cile show and she'd called me on Saturday morning saying she wanted to take me to the concert but I said no baby I've got to try fix my relationship and atone for my mistakes. Also I'm a coward who heeded the Police Commissioner’s warning about possible al Shabaab attacks where crowds are gathered. In fact my sixth sense tells me an event is imminent; not if, but when - so be extra vigilant especially where Westerners frequent. That said, sources tell me there was at least a platoon of armed GSU on standby at the Carnivore.

When Lavish called she said hi I'm at the hotel lying in bed naked drinking brandy and my body is on fire, I need you now. I said no Lavish please leave me alone and find someone else to put out those flames. Reader, please proceed with caution: Then she said I'm so wet touching myself, I need to feel you. She said I want you here now to cum and make a baby then I'll leave you alone. Of course everyone knows I enjoy sex and don’t buy that nimechill bullshit, but 'thou shall not engage in casual skin to skin' is my 11th Commandment. That's when I finally concluded that Lavish is a bit of a nutcase and not worth all the trouble. Before I switched my mobile off I said sorry but you want to bareback just like that?! WHAT WE HAD IS FINITO. You're crazier than even I can handle; baby you seriously need to see a doctor....

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Kalonzo Musyoka has egg all over his face (I wish it was vomit)

Nationmedia are reporting that Kenya's bid to defer the ICC case against Kenya Ocampo Six (KeOS) is dead in the water as the US refuses to back VP Musyoka's representations. Welcome, though predictable news.

When the epitaph for Kenya's Vice President is written it should read: 'Here lies that backstabbing, snake-in-the-grass, hireling of bloodsucking vampires and poster child for impunity.'

Sent from my iPhone® wireless device

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Overcoming minor Inconveniences

I'm still at the Stanley but now I'm at the Exchange Bar watching India vs Netherlands ICC 2011 Cricket World Cup live on Supersport. Because life is too short, I'm sorry but I refuse to let work get in the way of my leisure. BTW, if you're at work don't work too hard because it's rarely worth it!

Cheers, I blame the change in plans on all this wonderful sunshine that I see flooding in through the windows....

Halfway to success deserves a cold one

I'm feeling quite pleased with myself this lunchtime having crossed a milestone on the project we're working on. On a more personal note, George and I are taking baby steps towards getting our issues resolved.

So I've stopped by to have a Tusker malt lager (or two) at the Thorntree instead of lunch. And fuck the Mututho alcohol rules; they don't apply to top dogs like me, lol! My ulcers won't thank me though, more lol! xxx

Mouth-watering sights around Nairobi

I had lunch yesterday at Dormans on Mama Ngina Street. I prefer that cafe to Java which is always crowded and has long felt like a Mogadishu souk. I was served by Bernard who is very good looking, strong and black just the way I like my tea. He previously worked at the Junction branch where I'm sure he left many hearts broken. Lunch (see pic) was a delicious chilli burger topped with melted cheese and chillied fries that I smothered in ketchup. I also had a coke to cool my tongue because of all the chilli but I'd definitely recommend it especially at just ksh 500.

After lunch I still had some time to kill so I walked up towards the City Market enjoying the sunshine and checking out the beautiful people of Nairobi behind my dark shades. You'd never in a million years guess who I came across. Imagine coming face to face with UK TV presenter and heartthrob Reggie Yates casually strolling along Koinange Street! I couldn't believe my eyes and what a fine, fine sight (mmmm) he makes in real life. Dude was standing at least 6 foot tall in a tight t-shirt showing chiselled arms covered in beautiful tattoo ink. He was wearing what I'm reliably informed are jodhpurs (I want a pair NOW) and chunky fuck-me military boots. The hunk was also well accessorised with a monster SLR camera round his large right hand. Pure magic.

It's no secret that Nairobi is a playground of the rich and famous but this was still a big surprise. I tapped Reggie on the shoulder said hey, UK man, he turned, looked at me and -credit to him - he looked unflustered as he smiled and said 'wassup' back at me. Shame I wasn't quick enough to snap a pic. Take if from me it was still a pleasurable though brief encounter....

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

How to look half your age

Sheila remarked the other day, 'your skin is so soft; what's the secret?' As a gay man I pay more attention than your average woman to my looks. My daily regime includes a foaming cleanser, a base of sun protection factor 25 moisturiser and finally a thin mask of a re-hydrating moisturiser. Currently I find that Clinique products work best for me so I've deployed the full arsenal to my dressing table (see pic) with excellent results.

Previously I used Creme de la mer regularly (courtesy of Christmas, birthday, anniversary, fuckfest prezzies from a grateful ex, lol!). I still have half a tub left over sitting by my sink. However, even though it's very effective at hiding wrinkles there's no way I can justify the chunky price tag.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Jesus & Judas (Go to Simba Soul)

The past week has been hellish. After George pronounced the death of our relationship I begged and begged him to forgive me and reconsider but it was soon clear his mind was made up. I even employed the diplomatic culinary persuasions of Imelda but still he would not budge. The way to this man's heart is definitely not his stomach. Contrary to what many people thought, this new chapter in our life did not mean that George was severing contact with me. Luckily for me, my ex (sounds weird to me, I think I'm still in denial like Gaddafi) has only moved across the hall into another bedroom. I feel sad but also happy that George was confident in the depth of our relationship to still count me as a friend for life if not part of the family. We've traveled a long bumpy journey together I just hope we can navigate this rough patch and emerge wiser if not patched up. Thankfully God exists because here in Nairobi we are enjoying excellent weather after the frightening rainstorms of just two weeks ago. To those of you in the northern hemisphere, let me tell you that I never knew warmer wall to wall sunshine nor powder-bluer skies. I'm looking around for a hammock; fingers crossed by the time I find one, George will agree to lie in it with me. After all what's the point of a hammock if you can't be uncomfortable in it with the person that you love?

I've coped with the breakup by working really hard on an interesting client brief which has meant paths crossing with brilliant people I previously worked with including bff Sheila. Motherhood definitely suits her, and my officially soon-to-be godson baby Matt is coming along a treat. We work till 10 pm most days, by the time I get home George is already tucked away in his room. I can tell he's waiting for me to come home because his bedroom lights only go out when I climb the last step on the stairs and open the door to what used to be our room. Thursday night I tapped on his door and whispered goodnight. Gee was quiet for like two minutes though I heard our favorite Ce'cile cd playing you when you're gone. Then he said slowly sweet dreams, honey! My heart skipped some beats to hear his sexy drawl, I think there's more than a spark there, perhaps still some smoldering embers. For now I just curl up naked in bed where George used to sleep, tossing and turning tortured that he's only sleeping next door. I cover my face with one of his t-shirts sniffing his scent and soaking away my streams of hot regret tears. With my old tattered Raymonds Polar Bear blanket from my childhood wrapped round the pillow I manage to fall asleep just before 3 am. It's not ideal and I'm beginning to notice that I'm not firing on all cylinders by mid-afternoon. If it carries on like this I'll get myself off to Dr Njenga's for a prescription to help me sleep easier. The project I'm working on has a lot riding on it leaving no room for stupid errors. I know some of you who believe in love and the fallibility of mere mortals (I'm not talking of you kasaperekarembo) continue to pray for me, so I hope it won't come to a psychiatrist's couch.

What of elephant-in-the-room, Lavish daughter of Maingi? Well, she sent me a package by G4S Courier the other day; yeah I was also surprised when it arrived given that company's recent local incompetence. Imelda signed for a set of 4 sumptuous boxer shorts in large made from 95% cotton and 5% Lycra. They are a snug, velvet glove-like fit, very much like how I remember her little manicured hands. I'm not veerry endowed in that department (I'm average, Imelda made a good guess, lol) therefore smooth little hands wrapped around my toolbox are always more than welcome but that's another story, hahaha. Also with the package was a carefully crafted personal message. L2mm dear, hope you don't mind me sharing parts of that letter, which I later shredded, with my readers. In it she surmises that I'm not really gay or even bi, she accuses me of exhibiting classic psycho sexual-predator symptoms by blowing hot and cold thereby creating dependence all for my gratification. It's not the first time I've being called that, btw. I on the other hand feel like I'm getting manipulated from different angles. Or to put it in sheng, naona kuna ujanja unago. Oddly enough I'm enjoying both the attention and deprivation equally - I can't work out what about these two very diverse creatures lights up sensual areas of my brain like fireworks.

Oh, Lavish pto'd her missive with the bombshell:I love you and I want to have your baby! It's all too much for me to handle. Tonight I'll just let my hair down, I'm heading off to The Simba Saloon with Sheila for some alcoholic beverages (dawa, anyone?) and nostalgic eighties soul music. You can find us canoodling - seated away from the crowd - in the 'Jo'burg' part of the club. I asked George if he wanted to join us he said he'll think about it but he hasn't given me a decision. We've just devoured a rather juicy water melon from the fridge together which is a good sign, I think know he'll come out too.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

I take responsibility for all my actions (I'm sorry)

I finally escaped from the delectable black widow-clutches of Lavish on Wednesday morning because she had to leave for Kilifi. For the first time since those events I was a bag of nerves over breakfast thinking about George and my squalid actions of the last few days. She remarked are you always this grumpy in the morning even after you've had your sweeties? I don't know why but Lavish in broad daylight was already beginning to grate on me. I said 'excuse me if I'm not giving you my full undivided attention but I think my lust for you almost certainly lost me the only man I ever loved completely.' I remembered a line from "Good Girls" that song by Joe - why are all the good girls taken everytime. Lavish paused to put the glass of orange juice down and said tell me it wasn't all worth it because you were more than a willing participant. We were sitting downstairs at the Thorntree cafe looking out where they are extending the sidewalks further out to Kimathi Street. She continued, 'look at me and tell me you never want to see me again and I'll walk away.' I was staring at her breasts, now covered in a lavender crisp business shirt, where I'd rested my head the previous night. I felt nothing. But she knew me a little bit better to be confident that having binged on her juice I could never forget her easily. A tear rolled down my cheek as we embraced bye bye yet my crucifixion was only just starting.

When I got home it was mid morning, the sky was a hazy blue from all the Nairobi sunshine but my skin was cold. George was not in which was fine because i assumed he was away at work. Imelda looked at me with an accusing eye when she came to meet me in the hallway, I said I'm sorry pal for causing so much pain; she just nodded as she handed me an envelope from George. It was a Valentine's card with the love message crossed out. On the other face he had written 'To the love of my life, Tamaku', then: 'You have broken my heart in a million pieces with your cruelty. I've gone away to Eburru to be with Ken and Mwangi. Don't know when I'll be back. ' Signed, Yours Gee, and he had drawn a smiley of a sad face. I felt that dull, cutting pain where my heart should be. My near-perfect world was exploding around me and I had only myself to blame. Well, myself and the intoxicating charms of one Ms Lavish Mwanaisha Maingi (L2M for short). Mostly self-inflicted because she hadn't tied me to any bed.

I'll be a liar if I didn't confess to you that I also felt a deep sense of shame. I had let George down and people that I thought were my friends some whom I met through this blog instantly became hostile. It's no exaggeration that from the slew of emails received I have become the most detested Kenyan gay blogger. Someone even threatened to slash my penis and pour lemon juice on the cuts before cutting my balls off and stuffing them in my mouth! I was stymied to discover how many people think they know what's best for me, thanks for the concern btw. Later that afternoon I picked up myself from the floor and called George. We spoke for ten minutes but all I remember is I was sobbing like a baby saying sorry, so sorry honey. George on the other end was cool, his voice emotionless, not saying much just that he would be back when he was ready.

So I spent the rest of the week in a state of mourning and depression. Somehow I did manage to put in some long hours in a project that I'm working on although my heart wasn't in it. Saturday night just before midnight Lavish called me from Kilifi, she said I see you've been writing about us because she discovered this blog. She said you'll make people think I'm a heartless bitch but I don't care much for the opinions of strangers. Then she said to guess what colour panties she was wearing and I replied baby, whatever colour it is, it must be on fire but I don't feel like the phone-sex thingy tonight. She said wrong answer; I'm not wearing any now. I called to tell you I must have you for myself soon or I'll die. I said baby you won't die, but please, give me some space because I have many issues on my plate that need attending to at the moment. That night I unwisely drunk myself silly in a vain attempt to assuage my tormented soul and fall asleep.

George finally came back home early Sunday evening. We had spoken a few times more but I wasn't getting through to him the way I desperately wanted. I was still unforgiven and from his tone I sensed I could soon be forgotten. How foolish had I been and for what? I feared I had traded true love and security for lust and heady adoration that had left me feeling unfulfilled. I knew that George needed me (which I like) while with Lavish I would just be a trophy (soiled goods really) or a plaything at best (which I'm not used to). Sorry Lavish, but are you really a keeper? Am I not just another conquest, a notch on you bed post? After George had his shower and changed his clothes we sat in the patio silently enjoying the breeze. The air was heavy with the tension then he just cleared his throat and my heart stopped:

'Tam, it's over between us.'

Saturday, February 19, 2011

My Valentine's Day & Night (Will I ever be forgiven?)

Continued from here:

I took a taxi to the hotel which was only 40 minutes. When I got to Lavish's room she opened the door and I dropped the suitcase inside, closed the door quietly and we kissed. She was wearing a long t-shirt and nothing else. It felt better and sweeter than the first time. Without saying a word I scooped her to the bed and we made love, she told me when I say no to you I always mean yes. Yes we made music, I finally understood what Chris Martin means on Paper Loving (Cardiac Bass Riddim) when he sings If you cyaan love me now, Don't love me later when my later is much greater...

We both cried real tears by the time we finished, that's how intense it was. I'm not saying that I'm a stud (far from it) or that Lavish is the best lover but it felt so special I even feel guilty telling you about it. Then we ordered room service and ate in bed. In fact we didn't leave the bed until Monday afternoon when we came downstairs to the Thorntree cafe. Over biscuits and tea lavish said Baby I told you I always get what I want. I didn't know what to say. I just said I think you reset my sexuality. She looked at me with her big eyes and took my hands in hers. Yes Tamaku, I was sent to reset your sexuality to straight and it will be set permanent at straight as long as I'm around. My head was spinning but all I could see was George's face. I told Lavish I love George. She said I know, because I met him when I came to your place and saw how you are together. She said I'll give you time to decide because I know you are mine forever. Then we went back to the suite, we made love again and fell asleep.

When we woke up it was almost six in the evening. The air in the suite was damp from the rain mixed with the sweet dizzying smell of sex and we had to get ready for dinner. I rang the restaurant that I'd reserved for George and me to cancel because I couldn't bring myself to go there with Lavish. Then I rang my old assistant Jemima from when I used to have a proper job, I said please superwoman I need dinner for two somewhere nice tonight. Jemima, bless her, called me back in ten minutes and said you have a table at Fogo Gaucho for nine pm. By this time Lavish was in the bath her face floating over bubbles so I joined her. She looked like a mermaid in the water, there are few women who are as beautiful as Lavish is. Because of that fact we made love again, we almost missed our reservation, lol! On the way to Westlands for dinner I called George. He sounded happy, I think he was tipsy. He said I'm at home with Imelda and her son we are having a Valentine's dinner. I said cool, I miss you guys, I'll see you tomorrow. So that's how Valentine's was - me and Lavish at Fogo Gaucho and then later at Black Diamond for some drinks and leg shaking. In the back of the taxi to Black D Lavish whispered in my ear, now that you've wined and dined me, are you going to sixty-nine me? I said you bet, later. My ego was turbo-boosted entering the club with this stunning woman. The guys in the club looked at me as if to say you lucky bastard and the Nairobi night girls looked at my date as if to say who let Cinderella out. I was thinking, wait till you see my boyfriend. Lavish that night was wearing vintage black Yamamoto lace, I told her if we get together with you I'll have to take out a mortgage just to buy your panties. Which is a big joke because Lavish has done very well for herself. She was so feminine like a china doll perfumed so irresistibly, seductive in waves of Vera Wang Princess. Even now sitting here all alone in the lounge watching KISS TV - Kenya's Greatest Entertainer 'talent' show where some hapless but sweet girl is murdering Britney Spears' I Was Born To Make You Happy, I can never forget that scent.

So to cut a long story short, I'm in a dilemma. Big time. I haven't seen George for the last four days although he's keeping in touch by phone. He told me he's taken our car to Naivasha with friends. Advice please!

Thursday, February 17, 2011

My Valentine's Day & Night

It’s been a while people, where do I start? Ok, let's go to the beginning which is always a good place to start. So I left London on Friday morning feeling physically refreshed but there were still some cobwebs in my head. Did I tell you about someone called Lavish? Of course I did and many of you weren't too pleased. Anyway, newsflash: she was more than a passing cloud! I'd been thinking a lot about her that's why we agreed with George that we take some time apart. Let me tell you nowhere like 39000 feet up in the privacy of a Club World pod to collect one's thoughts. But by the time BA 0065 landed in Nairobi I was still not clear in my mind what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be with.

George picked me up from the airport; I'd missed him so much. This man has a heart of gold. We hugged tight for half a minute until I felt something move down there, hahaha. Then he drove us home. I could tell he was so excited to see me, telling me about what's been happening. In my absence Imelda's son came to live with us now he's going to school. I won't write much about him because he's only a child.

That night after a quick shower and a light snack we went to bed. When we were lying there George said, so what have you decided? Is it me or is it going to be that woman Lavish? I said honey I can't just choose like that because I love you and I have these feelings for Lavish as well. He said people don't know how complex you are, I just want you to be happy so you need to make up your mind. And that's how the first night back went, cuddling each other in bed and talking for hours. But no sex, none of us even felt like it. We talked about how we met and how happy we've been together and also intimate stuff that I won't tell you because it's deep and only two people ever heard those whispers.

Come Sunday afternoon we were sitting in the lounge watching TV and my mobile vibrated. It flashed up 'LAVISH' and George saw it but he pretended like he had not seen it. I walked to the kitchen to answer the call. I felt something in my stomach from hearing that voice. Lavish asked, man have you missed me? I didn't make a sound. She said I know you missed me even if you don't say it because I'm a woman and we know these things. I found my voice and I said I missed you. Then she said I'm in town at the hotel, I want you to come to me now. I said let me think about it, I'll let you know. Then she said don't think because I'm waiting. Come now I’m waiting for you. Strangely, as she said those words I realized I was pinching my right nipple which was now quite stiff.

After the call ended I went back to Gee, he looked up and said I know you have to go but it's okay. He looked hurt and sad. I said honey I'm very sorry because I’m becoming a bad person. Then I went upstairs to our room. I packed my small wheelie Samsonite, I packed some underwear and socks and toiletries. I also put in a black Van Heusen dinner shirt and trousers and my autograph black pointy shoes. I knew I was spending Valentine's dinner away from George. I was going away to be with Lavish....

To be continued:

Monday, February 7, 2011

How to get laid in 7 days (Compressed)

Continued from here:

I’ve bowed to pressure and decided to release the whole course tonight due to people’s different schedules and the need to prep.

Suckrifices (sorry)

So you’re in the zone now. You’ll have to suspend booze and fags for the next 6 days because nothing like too much alcohol and nicotine to dampen libido and also stale beer breath is not a turn on. Eaten your three stalks of celery this morning? Good. Now you need to call your date and tell him/her that you’ve got major plans for next Monday. Try not to sound as if your life depends on it. Pick up the phone and calmly repeat after me: ‘Hi xxxx I know you want to spend Valentine’s night with me getting pleasured - I’ll pick you up at 8pm.' Never ‘Can I?’ but ‘I know‘. That way you'll have the upper hand in the game of love.

Here’s some Joe to get you psyched up

Grooming, etc

Day 3 of seduction training. Today is the day to get the killer hair cut. CK and ilk, ensure dye is the fashionable shade or get the secretary to pick up toupee from taxidermist. Don’t forget to shave the back. Order flowers and chocs.. Whatever you do, make sure they are getting delivered to Target’s office on d-day morning. You’ll score some serious brownies enough to get the panties/boxers peeling off effortlessly, trust me….on that note, enjoy some Prince AJ and Co but however weak you feel DO NOT COMPLETE. I know the girls look very hot.

Lube - check, rubbers - check…

Day 4. Bought the lube, massage oil and condoms? No harm in trying on ONE condom to make sure the fit is right…oooohhh, nowadays they even make some of them with silky lubrication INSIDE. Mmmmmm, throw away that one in the bin. Naughty, naughty, naughty boy you‘re going to have to do better than that. Anyway just three short days to go.

Believe in yourself & Oral Hygiene

Day 5. Please tell me you haven’t called Target again?! Nothing as off putting as coming across as too desperate, you must keep them keen and gagging for it. Today should start with the mantra, ‘I will get laid on Monday night, because Tamaku said so’, followed by a stretch and coffee enema. Do not try the latter at home though. It’s not just a question of getting the kettle on and some instant, lol! Also check there are no lesions on the tongue, if there are get down to Nakumatt quick and be od-ing on the Listerine or Corsodyl. Aaahhh. Good, I can ever see your molars. Now give the nips a tweak, you don’t want to be toooo desensitized. How about some Secret Garden.

Almost there....

Day 6. Absolutely no porn today, have an ice bath to cool that boner that threatens to take off like a rocket , lol…(will I ever be forgiven, lol). It’s too late to get checked out for herpes so banish the thought. Early to bed, early to rise. Nite, nite with KCI - Jojo All my life - sweeter than you. Yeah, tomorrow.

Completion, payback and da end (in Swahili known as kazi iendelee)

D-day: You haven’t done much work today. Dinner will be fantastic. It should because you’ll be poorer in a few hours. Later at your pad, phones switched off and a bottle of red while playing Secret Garden (again), lights dimmed. Don’t be shy - lean forward and get that tongue action going. Is that a mammary gland that’s not a relative’s which just popped inside your mouth? Have a gentle nibble then put your hand down there? Is it raining now? Lol. I told you this would be the night. Now who better than R Kelly to take you there….

How to get laid in 7 days (money-back guarantee)

This post is in response to the 'straight' dude who emailed me asking about tips on getting laid come Valentine’s. So I’ve risen to the occasion to assist in accomplishing the mission without telling him to resort to Rohypnol. Being irresistible is 90% of the time just a matter of confidence and planning, so let’s start this seven-day musical course to get things moving. Of course you’ll still need the usual money wasting accoutrements(flowers, chocolates, dinner and booze). Don’t forget the nice smelling underwear on the night and a pack of 3 ribbed durex - applies to everyone, BTW. Let’s start off with All Saints to get you in the zone. There’ll be a tune every night until Sunday. Follow this course and believe me, Monday night kaboom!

You’re welcome. xxx

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Decision Decisions Decisions - Help!

It’s nearing that time of year again when you MUST receive a card and at least a dozen blood-red roses or everyone in the office will conclude (rightly) that you’ve come to enjoy flying solo aka masturbation a little too much. Last year for Valentine’s, George treated me to an unforgettable night at a local restaurant. It cost him an arm and a leg, aaawww. Later we had some mind-blowing sex, nothing like it after a gourmet meal and a good Chablis. Oh, and he got me a prezzie as well. I figured this year I should do the treating.

At the moment I’m trying to decide which restaurant to book from here in the UK before I arrive in Nairobi later in the week because if I leave it till the weekend I’m not sure they’ll be any nice places left to go. If anyone has any suggestions please let me know either here or by email, it‘ll be much appreciated. I’m especially keen to hear from anyone who has tried Ole-Sereni or Rolf’s Place or even that new hotel in Westlands - Sankara. Restaurants I wouldn’t be seen dead in are the Carnivore (over-rated and so 90’s), Moonflower (bland food with eye-watering bills) and Trattoria (shouldn’t this place be taken off life-support?). I don’t mind, ahem, a complimentary from those establishments though, just to check out whether things have improved, hehehe. God, I’m so corrupt! This time I’m feeling braver unlike last year so we’ll definitely be out on the night with all the other lovebirds. Nothing in the law that says two men can’t enjoy a candlelit dinner on Valentine's. So, just looking for somewhere special with nice food and great ambiance that will guarantee me at least a week of sex afterwards.

George honey - if you read this post please try and act surprised when I take you out to dinner, ok sweetie?

Friday, February 4, 2011

My fellow Kenyans, this is why sometimes I feel suicidal

Prof Anyang Nyong’o is a Kenyan Cabinet Minister responsible for Medical Services. The Vision and Mission at the Ministry are ‘To be an efficient and cost-effective medical care system for a healthy Nation’ and ‘To promote and to participate in the provision of integrated and high quality curative and rehabilitative services to all Kenyans.’ Many Kenyans will tell you that those words are just a mirage of hot air rising from the arse crack of a civil servant. Hence the irony of Prof Nyong’o’s personal situation in an interview where he speaks candidly about his fight with prostate cancer in a world-class US treatment facility.

I wish the Minister well because I’m not heartless and I like to think that there’s some compassion still left in me. However I can’t help screaming: What hope is there for suffering Kenyans who can’t afford to pay for a costly evacuation abroad should they require specialist Medical Services?

Oh silly me! What kind of emotional question is that? I forgot that God helps those who help themselves.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Kenya Minister jokes about HIV/Aids while people are dying

Esther Murugi, Special Programmes Minister, finds much hilarity and merriment when discussing what should be done to combat the scourge. Please don’t get her started about men who have sex with men and HIV. That will be a ROFLHOLCBF - rolling on the floor laughing hysterically out loud collecting bird feathers - moment. She's one of the more progressive albeit confused Kenyan politicians. Sample this from just three months ago.

Oh dear me, seems like she is the one who should be put in quarantine for foot in mouth.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Free at last

I mark the passing of David Kato, Ugandan activist and human rights campaigner who succumbed to head injuries sustained from a brutal attack at his home yesterday. My condolences to his family, friends and the community at large.


Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The woman magistrate who let a sex offender off the hook

Sylvia R Wewa. Remember that name because you might need to ask for her if you are ever on the wrong side of the law. She is Senior Resident Magistrate at Kaloleni Court who finds herself in hot water for disregarding pre-sentencing reports in the case of serial sex offender Kennedy Munga. The probation reports warned that the accused had not shown remorse nor accepted responsibility for the heinous crime of defilement. Instead of imposing a sentence guided by the law’s minimum of 15 years, Sylvia Wewa decided that a three-year probation was sufficiently severe. WTF. Disgust and revulsion don‘t begin to describe how I feel about this magistrate.

Luckily when the case came up for review before High Court Judge Mohammed Ibrahim he felt the same way and did the right thing. 15 years jail for the accused. YES!!!

Do you have any suggestions what suitable punishment should be meted on this Magistrate Sylvia Wewa?

Sunday, January 23, 2011

A woman of rare talents

Meet Nigerian songstress Eve lookalike Majela also known as Queen of Vagina. I watched a clip of her on a late night tv show about a week ago and I’m finding it hard getting the catchy tunes off my mind. Not that I want to though. Watch her performance on the video bar here further down on the right or go to youtube and search for Queen of Vagina. You’ll see and hear what I mean. I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. All together now vaja, vaja, vaja, vajaina! Queen of vajaina oooo. Woooiii. This is a perfect song to sing in the car when you’re sitting in traffic. Go on, watch the videos, you’ll thank me for pointing them out. Just don’t watch this at work if your boss is an asshole. Total insanity.

Whoa Nellie! Not all Africans are needy

Last week I went out on the town in Newcastle on my own because my hosts were away at a prearranged engagement. It was really windy and cold so I stepped out in a thick jacket, scarf, gloves and faux fur ushanka all wrapped up like a mummy. First stop was Chinatown to line my stomach as you do before any drinking. I got lured by the promise of eat as much as you can for £8 which was good value and most of it was rather yummy. It’s no secret that Chinese domination of the world has been accelerated by buffets of egg fried rice, chow mein and shredded roast duck. And soy sauce.

After the feast I walked towards the Life Centre around that triangle which is home to the city’s gay bars and settled for a pub favourite with bears. Forty minutes later I was minding my own business pretending to cruise when three hunks in kilts joined my table by the window overlooking the sidewalk. I was glad for the company of the three hairdressers from Scotland and we started chatting about nothing in particular, they even bought me a couple of drinks. Oh, by the way did I mention that one of them was black? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it a little odd hearing a Glaswegian accent from a black person.

Shortly the two other guys excused themselves to go outside to smoke. That’s when the black Scot asked me where I lived. I said I’m only here visiting friends, I live in Kenya. He says how cool is that, you speak verrie gurdt Inglish. (Lol. Sorry I can’t do the accent). I answered yes I do but just for the record I speak even better Swahili and two other languages. By this time his compatriots were back, that’s when he asked me whether I had a %^*~@&. I replied sorry I didn’t understand what you just said, what was that again? Obviously I need to work on my Scottish. I think he got my point because he started speaking very slowly: DO. YOU. HAVE. A. BOYFRIEND? I said yes I do have a very beautiful boyfriend, and told them a little about Gee. Curiously ebony Scot wanted to know what colorr George was so I said as black as you and me. That’s when he said don’t take this the wrong way fella but 'gay Africans are way too needay when it comes to marney. They can‘t seem to stand on their own two feet'....

I pretended to take his offensive comments the right way even though I was seething inside, even his friends looked embarrassed. I know that in recent years ‘refugee’ and ‘asylum seeker’ (read foreigner) have become dirty words to many Europeans largely thanks to a slew of articles about benefits scroungers in hugely popular rags aimed at swathes of the population whose reading age hovers around 9. So I asked ‘Field-slave-now-eating-at-the-big-house’, is that your experience? Have you ever dated an African? He said no but a friend of a friend has. Then he added all I know is the people there are starving and dying from aids. I couldn’t hold it any longer so I said to him Oh don’t be ridiculous, you don’t see me saying all Glaswegians are drunk illiterate morons who like to stick dirty needles into their arms. But I said it sweetly because I’m from the land of hakuna matata where ‘jaruos’, ‘kales’, ‘wasepere’ etc still have more than a few issues to sort out. I now accept that some form of bigotry exists inside everyone. Call it preference, type whatever. Also I blame charities who think the only way to fill their coffers are media campaigns showing emaciated and unwashed orphans with runny noses. It doesn’t matter that the kids’ dignity is violated by whoring their images, they are just poor god-forsaken souls from distant lands.

I didn’t even begin to say what I was really thinking. There’s a time and place for debates and I wasn’t in the mood to start a fight which I‘d have lost anyway. So we dropped the subject and some j├Ągerbombs instead (my round) until the stripper came on. Then we just drifted apart to darker parts of the bar where one could get off anonymously. Needless to say I was only a spectator to any monkey business. Before I left the pub I went to the toilet where I bumped into black Mr Kilt. By now he looked a bit worse for wear but he still recognised me as I stood next to him at the urinal. Then without the faintest of warnings he lifted his kilt. I wasn’t too shocked because some gay men can get up to sleazier things in toilets, eh you don‘t want to know. Come to think about it, I’m sure some of you want to know hahaha you'll have to go and ask George Michael. Anyway I clocked him and appreciated that like a true Scotsman he wasn’t wearing anything under the tartan. Luckily for him there was no one else in the toilets because let me just say that it’s not all true what they say about black men. Even in the dimmed lighting I could see that he was packing mini, or how shall I put it, well below expectations in both length and girth and I’m no size queen. Worse still said appendage was as dead as a doornail.

After I finished peeing I gave mine the customary two tugs and three shakes (always a pleasure) and washed my hands quietly staring at kilted flasher’s reflection in the mirror. Before leaving him alone in the toilets, I said bitchily whilst looking at his needledick, so sorry dear - even Africans aren’t that needy.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Who do you think you are? Chuck Norris?

Disturbing video of a Kenyan driver and traffic policeman as they engage in fisticuffs. No winners here, all losers!

Friday, January 14, 2011

Getting to know Tamaku

Ok, I’ve been blogging about my life now for close to two years but I still get emails asking me so many crazy questions. From - "how much money do you want me to send you" (enough is never enough, baby) to - "Hi Tamaku, I’m a really lovely girl if you have sex with me you’ll dump that George of yours so fast" (er...I don’t think so sweetie because sex is not all I have with George). So I thought I’d put a survey together and answer some questions hopefully people will get to know me a little bit better.

How often do you have sex?

With myself about four times a week but it’s not getting out of hand. Mostly due to just boredom and as a stress reliever. With boyfriend George less frequently. He says he wants to keep it special, blah, blah, blah. Sorry Gee, just kidding.

What’s your favourite condom flavour?

I don’t know, lol. I’ll have to ask my cock when I get home.

What’s the most sensual part of your body?

My brain when it's stimulated.

What’s your favourite car?

It has to be Land Rover Discovery. My dream car would be Porsche Panamera, the one pulling 500 horses. In ivory. I see stars and get hot flushes just imagining myself driving one. The best things in life ARE NOT FREE.

Are you a top or a bottom?

This question is intrusive and so unfair, fake survey! I don’t see you asking a girl whether she swallows or if she uses a strapon. Anyway I'll answer in the spirit of transparency. The usual position is top to bottom though I also do sideways. I hope that's cleared that little mystery then.

Have you ever been offered and accepted money/food/booze/ice-cream/drugs/shelter/socks for sex?

Yes, haven’t we all! It’s impossible to have sex 100% on your terms every time without sneaking some good old Rohypnol in their drinks. So sex is all about give and take. It’s also nice to be appreciated for a job well done, lol!

You come across as a very happy person. What makes you angry?

I am a happy, easy-going man. The sight of smiling Attorney-General 'Chubby Cheeks' Amos Wako makes my blood boil. I actually loathe the man. Where is the justice in this world? Also people who treat their staff like dirt get me very mad. Case in point that woman from Booksfirst.

When it comes to relationships would you say you are a player or do you get played

I hate mind-games so I always put my cards on the table. I expect others to come clean as well, has worked for me so far.

Which celebrity would you like to have sex with?

Nick Cannon aka Mr Mariah Carey


He has a lovely smile and nice teeth which means he’s likely to be a good kisser - big, big plus with me. My fantasy would be to rub baby oil on him then blindfold and handcuff him to the bed and tease him with a feather see if he'll even remember her name. Mariah Who? Also something tells me that for Mariah to be with him, all her fame and fortune, he must be packing more than your bog standard in-the-back-garden cannon. She’s just sapping that baby juice out of him. What a waste!!!

Final word?

Accept the person you are before expecting others to accept you for who you are.

End of interview.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

I’m tired of these men. Martha Karua for President 2012

Hi diary. It’s me, Tamaku. What have I been up to? Well, not much but I’m still here in England. George travelled back to Nairobi over the weekend because he said something about ‘work’, a function that is but a distant memory to me as I’m just a lady of leisure, lol! However lunch today was cod and chips, lovely and I need all the calories to keep me warm because I’ve got at least another couple of weeks in this country. Actually later this evening I’m travelling by train up north (Newcastle upon Tyne) to visit friends and freeze my balls off.

Anyway, so yesterday was the day when the Who’s Who of Kenyan society adorned clean underwear, black suits and dusted off mothballed hats to bid first-class farewell to the recently deceased Gerishon Kirima. If you were not at Kirima’s ’do’ then the sad reality that you must face up to is that you are nobody. I paid my respects on my last post. Pity that some of these so-called leaders forgot their brains at home. On second thought perhaps we should be thankful they did. This being a Kenyan funeral what better place for mirth and to score political mileage. Eh, the stupefaction of it all! Get in! I’ve been waiting to deploy that word for the longest time, lol! The ruckus was tooted off by ex-prezzo Moi, he of the Nyayo, ahem, ‘philosophy’ whom I’ve previously written fondly about here and here. And here. The man is not only guilty of much evil but now he’s also about to give me an ulcer and a repetitive strain injury. When he stood up to bore the mourners to death (sorry!) he was again like a broken record whining that the new Constitution which Kenyans voted for last year allows gay unions. Anthropologists will one day need to get this old man’s brain checked when he kicks it (hopefully not too long to wait) because it may provide the missing link between apes and humans. More stupefying (check, check) is how he managed to stay president for 24 whole years!???

Moi’s comments on gays and the Constitution were like a red rag to Prime Minister Raila who recently also etched himself in my bad books. Basically Raila - claws out - bays at Moi that no, the new laws don’t permit same-sex marriage. He chastises, go read it again to understand. Personally I think that was just so bitchy, have you seen the state of Moi’s cataracts lately? Raila doesn’t stop there though. Because he aspires to be a comedian after his political career ends he adds, ‘we have more women than men, why would any man want to hook up with another man?’ Crowd at funeral roll on the floor pissing themselves with laughter. Wow, Mr Prime Minister of Kenya, Honourable MP for Langata , African Union Mediator to Ivory Coast, cussin (sic) to Barack Obama, blah, blah, blah, how profound your reasoning. Someone (wifey Ida, please?) needs to tell Raila to just shut up and dip his fries in that drivel because he’s being a very naughty boy haemorrhaging supporters every time he opens his mouth on this gay issue.

Or maybe not. Let’s get to know Raila Amolo Odinga even more intimately. Not in that sense, the man abhors gays, hehehehe. We already know how he rewards loyalty, how he will kick a man in the nuts when he’s down on his luck. We now know where he stands when it comes to human rights. On the other hand you can’t fault elitist President Kibaki who doesn’t seem to have much time for a spot of gay-bashing. Perhaps he’s got too much on his mind like how to golf-club nagging First Lady Lucy to death while she’s asleep. Or dreaming of sucking a straw for White Cap lager at Michuki‘s pad watching some Beyonce on the ceiling cinema. Either way, roll on 2012 or whenever the elections will be, my vote will be Martha Karua for President. Hardly surprising as I was even subconsciously thinking about it back then. By the way dad, I told you Politics, English and History instead of Law would one day serve me well, see just how far I’ve come.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

“I told you I was sick!” (RIP Kirima)

With the passing on of city tycoon Gerishon Kirima in South Africa where he had been taken for medical attention the public saga promised could see more twists and turns than the battle for the late Walter Kilele’s estate which took place years ago (google it). The opposing parties in the Kirima case will no doubt be locked in an epic scavenge over a billion-shilling empire. Someone’s been peddling lies about the assets being worth just 750 million, I smell an elaborate attempt to undervalue. Has Mr KRA been getting what’s due to him? Just a fleeting thought. Anyway some of the old man’s kids went to great lengths to gain exclusive access to their ailing dad, even isolating him away from other family members including the patriarch’s wife aka ‘evil, wicked’ step-mum Teresia Wairimu. Of course - silly me - it was never about the money so I’d expect the offspring to disappear back to their lives once the tears dry up and the funeral is over.

I think it was Katherine Whitehorn who noted The easiest way for your children to learn about money is for you not to have any. I agree. She also wrote why do born-again people so often make you wish they'd never been born the first time? Uh-huh. I’m sure I’m not the only one who noted the clipped upper crust accents of the Kirima brood when speaking to the media. Some of them appear to have had more than their fair share of crusty pies judging by the ample bosoms and over padded derrieres. Seeing and hearing is believing. I’ve always understood it to be a parent’s duty to raise kids with the skills to go and live their own independent adult lives. Obviously daddy Kirima provided too well, the only problem is that he also took too long to die. Call me cynical but I think this appears to have caused some of the clan considerable angst wondering how long before they would get their paws on all that money. I’ve coined a term for it, it’s called Delayed Inheritance Syndrome or DIS. Most commonly afflicted with DIS are lazy, overweight and petulant middle-aged brats whose wealthy parents are past 70.

Example of use

Giddy: I’m so stressed out because I desperately need money to buy new ponies for my polo team. God, why is daddy taking so long to die?!! Now the doctor says I’ve got DIS!

Jon: Aaaah, Delayed Inheritance Syndrome. Bro - tell me about it…

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Cos-Gay is no excuse, let’s make Kenya no country for ‘old men’

I’m sitting here in the toasty loft that is my brother’s study checking email and making sure I don’t miss out on any shenanigans back home. First of all I will gulp a cold Becks to GUG and Co for a well executed and successful legal challenge against that rolling rock - the one that buried itself forever deep inside the abyss of journalistic ineptitude when it chose to publish names and pictures of Ugandans it alleged were gay (relax, you won’t find a link here). Currently the sexy goddess of ethics & justice aka EJ appears to have her juicy butt spread tantalizingly over East African shores. How do I know? Well, I just heard her queefing good over the internet sheets, ok?

The other story that has got me all excited is that one of Ocampo’s Bitches - Industrialization Minister one ‘Heno Cosgay’ he of the dentistry challenged mandible may soon find himself getting in-arse-trialized at some remand facility aka Vaseline Chalets while awaiting his day in court on corruption charges. Unless his only friend Agwambo gets back from the rumble in Ivo with Gbagbo quick. Did you see and appreciate what I just did there, lol. I'm not thinking 'why don't you just pack your bags and go'. Forgive me for getting ahead of myself, but I don’t think I’ll be losing any sleep over this turn of events. My dear fellow Kenyans, I feel nothing! Henry Kosgey is the quintessential smeared-in-black-cotton-soil Kenyan politician. He has form which is well past it’s cull by date. Who in their right mind would even think this pig is suited to hold public office? Aaarrggh.

Please don’t even get me started on the festering Mudavadi-rot - Musalia, not Moses who‘s been dead a canny while. RIP Sir, but still naughty, naughty for playing with Moi. I also haven’t forgotten the Sam Ongeri ‘brouhaha’. Yikes, how far does this whiff go?!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Happy 2011 and beyond ,YOU got me thinking

We're waiting for a taxi to transport us to dinner then George and I have been promised a night to remember on the South Bank bars of London. Before I get more plastered than I already am, I just wanted to wish you all a most spectacular night wherever you are ushering in 2011. May you all live long and prosper. xxxx

PS: For Lavish only: honey, next year lets do it like this in Kilifi, I miss you too - it's a deal.