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Abdallah na Mohamed May 31, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
9 comments

(grammatical, E&OE….i was higher than a kite writing this) 

Basi kuna jamaa mmoja anayeitwa Abdallah na mwenzake Mohamed wanaoishi kuleee mombasa, sehemu za pwani yaani, na ambao pia ni wenye gari moja murwa aina ya Volkswagon Beetle. Gari lenyewe ni la rangi ya buluu, wazungu na watu wa bara huiita sky blue.

Abdallah basi naye hii asubuhi kaangalia juu na kaona hali ya hewa ni safi. Jua pale limewaka poa. Hamna mawingu hewani.

“Mohamed,” kasema Abdallah “twende Nairobi City leo?”

“Saa huu?” kauliza Mohamed huku akiamka kutoka usingizi wake mdogo yaani napu.

“Saa hii, saa hii!” kasisitiza Abdallah.

Mohamed naye ni mpenda raha za ghafla na hakufikiria mara mbili. Alikuwa asharuka na kuingia kwenye gari lao la aina ya beetle.

“Ah, Moha bana,” kashangaa Abdalla “banawe hata huja fikiria mambo ya mavazi tutakapo kaa.”

“Hayo tutashugulikia mbele nawe, aaah!” kamrudishia Mohamed. “Safari ni ya masaa kama nane, watishwa na nini? Tutafikiria la kufanya njiani. We twende!”

Abdallah hakuwa na lakusema ye tu kaenda na kuingia mle chumbani na kuanza kujitayarisha. Baada ya dakika kama kumi na tano alikuwa tayari.

Akafunga nyumba na kufuli wanaoamini cha TRICIRCLE na kuingia kwenye kiti cha dereva.

“Moha?”

“Naam?”

“Uko tayari?”

“Ndio kaka. Niko tayari”

“Twenzetu basi!”

Safari nayo ikaanza bila vishasha. Wakapita daraja ya Nyali na wakaingia taon senta. Leo ikiwa siku ya Jumamosi hakuwa na jam. Baada ya sekunde kadha…haya basi..baada ya dakika kadha, walitoka nje ya city. Walipita Causeway bila hitilafu na pia kwa bahati njema na usaidizi mwema kutoka kwa Mungu waliweza kupita pale Mariakani. Wakapita Voi na mambo sasa ilikuwa kama wazungu wanavyosema tena…SMOOTH SAILING.

NOT FOR LONG. Loh, hawakuwa wameenda mbali na Voi, hata ungeangali kioo cha nyuma ungeona moshi kutoka hoteli moja waliokuwa wanatayarisha chakula cha mchana, gari lao, lile mzee mzito anayeitwa Hitler aliyeundisha, lilipoanza kuleta shida.

Doh, Abdallah kacheza na clutch lakini hakuwa na bahati. Gari lika kohoa moja. Mbili. Na ta…ikajizima. Abdallah na Mohamed wakaangaliana. Wakajiuliza wafanyaje.

“We Abdallah kaangalie mle mbele uangalie nini mbaya na gari hili.” Mohamed kasema.

Abdallah kashuka gari kaelekea mle mbele kufanya INVESTIGASHENI! Kainua bonnet…

“LAHAULA! MOHAMED! Gari kweli linashida.”

“Nini mbaya?”

“Mohamed, hamna engine!”

“Ati?”

“Nakuambia, gari hili halina engine banaa. Ndio imekwama.’

Mohamed kaenda piakujiangalilia maajabu haya ya Musa.

“Doh doh doh DOH! Kweli Abdallah. Sasa tuliiangusha engine wapi tena?”

Walisimama hapo kando ya gari lao wakishangaa aje engine iliweza kutoka bila wao kujua. Katika ile hali ya DESPERASHENI, Mohamed kaenda kuangalia nyuma kuona kama ata pata kamba wavurute gari.

“ABDALLAH! ABDALLAH WE!” Mohamed aliwika huku akiwa na furaha.

“Nini mbaya tena?”

“Abdallah, muzungu mjanja. Mzungu mjanja. Mzungu katengeneza spare”

It’s a joke story I heard on one of my many drinking sprees. The names have been changed to save the real characters and because I couldn’t remember the original names. Blame it on Vodo.

BONUS JOKE!
(If you’ve heard it before, just like the story…too bad)

One car asked a Volkswagen Beetle; “Why are your eyes so BIG?
Volkswagen replies; “How would you feel if you had an engine up your butt”

And with that I leave to head to our office pub, drink silly, ogle (maybe get to know better) at some fly mamas and then head off to Carni or F twanganganganganganga to start my long weekend.

Mjienjoy!

Where? Mistari na Mbisha! May 24, 2007

Posted by modoathii in WaPI genius?.
25 comments

Where? Ngong Road.

I crossed carefully and with intent. There was no stopping me this time. I waited for the road to clear. No crossing stunts as I love doing on our roads. There would be no crossing roads like they belonged to our family. Not today. I had to get there in tact with heart beating at normal pace…

Where? Upper Hill road

Or so I think it’s called. It brings back nostalgic moments. I remember running/chasing Uppah guys during the school bash-ups…yet my arm was in a cast. It saved me though. When cops came to sort out the mess they bypassed my ‘pitiful’ ‘sorry’ self…

Where? Gate to British Council

Body search. Body search. Not thorough. I didn’t quite understand why. The event being held here usually attracts Mungiki-like characters. Characters unlike Mungiki though. Maybe that’s why the search was easy. This is the playground for the ‘wasanii wenye mistari kali’…

Where? The parking

And the lines were being dropped (direct translation) like crazy. Though I wasn’t listening. I was listening and absorbing the sight and sounds of a fellow blogger. A blogger who I met for the first time. A blogger who has had us bamboozled for a while and will continue to do so. A blogger I was glad to finally meet. He almost didn’t fit into the description I had in my mind. But he had warned me. So I was prepared. Indeed you can’t hide behind this guy. We entertained each other and bonded before the other mystery of a blogger arrived…

Where? A tent at the parking

The lines were dropping and the crowd was in a frenzy when it got dark. We simultaneously looked behind us. Then up. There looming over us…looming? Towering more like it. There towering over us was another blogger. The king to a castle. As a blogger he wasn’t as I had imagined. But knowing what he does for a living he was exactly as I had imagined. And he didn’t look like a geek. Or was it because he didn’t have his ‘bi-focals’? So also maybe he wasn’t seeing what we were seeing…

Where? The food tent

In swa we say, ‘Size yake’. There, waiting to buy snacks but couldn’t because of other mesmerized humans who wanted images that last, were three…wow…FOUR? tall, fly model-like ladies. A sight that made it worth ignoring the goings-on down at the ‘stage’. One had an afro-shirazzi to die for. Needle would definitely get lost in that ‘haystack’. There was one black beauty. One had parts of her body deliciously wanting to hang themselves out to tempt us. They had to be kept under wraps…despite the heat. The two bloggers I was with forgot about their sodas. So would I if I had one. I just forgot everything including the others. The others…

Where? Everywhere

Left, right, mbele, nyuma…a beautiful crowd. Forget that guy with sagging trousers. Forget the ‘natty’ whose eyes were red and his stride inspired. Forget the wannabe in ‘Gideon boots’. Forget the two gawking bloggers. I’m talking about the ladies/gals/chicks/women…the bevy of beauties. I saw some in all shapes and some in all sizes but THEY, were all beautiful sizes. Some shapes…well…moving along. Made me wonder why I was still on the disoriented express. The BT. These were my heroines. As for my hero…

Where? The west walls

Graffiti is going down on the walls. All these guys with creative madness written all over them were now ‘spreading’ it all over the walls. Quite creative stuff too. Some were just plain hard to read…unless you had imbibed whatever the artist was on. But there was my hero…

Where? Right there. 

This Mathare-escapee-looking character. The sharpest guy I had seen all afternoon. And he had stood there all afternoon (I’d assume since morning) in his thick shirt bearing the heat and the curious, amused stares from the crowd and other graffiti artists. Only one stood admiring his talent…me (despite the unbelieving gazes from my fellow bloggers)! The theme being UPRISING he had chosen an important yet simple sub-theme to an uprising…CONSTANT! “The more you constantly persist in your cause the more you are likely to succeed”. And true to his theme, he stood there writing only one word…CONSTANT. Only looking sideways for us to see who this genius or mad man, if you wish, was. All afternoon, he went over and over and over…and over the word with a fine point BIC pen. Fine point! His was the simplest yet deepest message of all. Too bad he didn’t win. He should have. Evidently his Mathare aura would NOT have been good for the event’s image. It was only later…after the awards were dished out did he start adding colour to this masterpiece. Coloured it he did with…left over paint.

And just like that, he disappeared. I searched the crowd, but nothing! But he made a believer out of me. A believer in what? I’m yet to find out. But oh, I believe. At this point my fellow bloggers also believed…they believed I’ve lost it too.

Where? WaPI?

Words and Picture! At the British Council. 19th May.

Take a break… May 17, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
21 comments

I came across this and it jazzed me to tears…

Domez in the other world.

offthemark2007366580517.gif

I receive over a hundred comics…needless to say i have the longest coffee break here.

Chako! Tena? May 16, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
15 comments

Mnakumbuka hii game? Mazee kumbe mnaeza icheza kwa blogosphere man?

Sasa Mwangi, mzeiya mwingine hapo wa nguvu wa miaka fortey dhirii amenicheza tag ati niseme mareasons mi hu-blog. Msee, hiyo ni swali ngumu…wacha ni bahatishe a few guesses.

Na si mumeuliza the wrong guy.

Why I blog…

I have no clue. To be honest sijui. Hata sijui nilianza aje. I have always been averse to the web not cast by spiderman. Wait! I know why I blog…

1. Coz I have a comp
Mazee, mi huchukia cyber ka food ya ex wa mine, so kama sio hii job iliinsist nipewe comp, hamgenijua.

So from there I thought I could…

2. Entertain myself and others uniquely
I just think this is a fun thing to do so why not make it a fun place. Hence my none-serious posts. Nikiwa serious lazima niongezee madoido…

Which allows me to…

3. Improve on my writing
I always use the blog to try out new styles of writing. Unajua kama yule mzae hukaa pale chini ya campfire akiambia wanaju maristo…hivyo. Njaro mopya ya kutilia masaibu za ndugu modo. I lie, I avoid posts about me.

4. To release kidogo madness.
Mazee, madness in no madness out, makes life mathare-able.

5. To interact…
And meet equally mad and sometimes sane characters out there. Sitaji majina…

Lakini nitataja, dkwin, William tell, wanja mnaju, and my daily inspirer…komi. Chako. Betty where you at? Chako. If you’ve been tagged, then I have on my substitute bench, mocha, big orange, princess

Who am I…the deadly seven May 14, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
24 comments

Kwanza kuna vile nilingachanikiwa kuona nimetagiwa…now what the? Methu the sellah, wewe! Nimekuwekea Unwanted Ati sasa ni lazima ni unleash mavitu saba za me? Wacha nijaribu. Of course, top on many guys lists is what’s my name? And what do I look like? Poleni. Mimi ni mimi. I’m a simple dude. And here are my deadly seven…

1: “Who are you?”

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No one knows me, yet everyone thinks they do. First I have a million and one names, and I’ve once heard two guys discussing the same person without knowing it’s the same person. And I’m always ROTFLMAO! And I never tell them. Modoathii, is the wild and crazy me, he’ll do anything and everything you don’t expect. Fearless and daring. When called by my other ‘certain name’, you get the easy, relaxed me. He wears jeans and hangs out a lot. Has fun, laughs a lot and takes nothing seriously. Call me by my “Official name” you get a total stranger. It’s the official me. He’ll be found in meetings, court rooms and police stations. Is too serious for life. He never goes anywhere. Never takes chances. Usually if you know “official name” first, you’ll only know him for a few very short minutes then “certain name” will fight his way and take over…and that’s the real me. He’s the six below…and more…

2: “Modoathii yuko wapi?”

photo-7b.jpg
That’s me. Master Dodger of the limelight! There’s nothing I hate more than being the ‘master piece’. Anything that will make me stick out like a stray dog’s willies I will try and avoid (like this post). During a harambee, never make the mistake of making me a master of ceremony, I won’t show up. And if I do come I’ll conveniently slip away just before you call me. Wedding na funeral sijui nitafanya. In a crowd of more than two humans, I’m the quiet one. Usually sitting there wrongly misleading everyone into thinking I’m a quiet good boy (which I am, anyway) until we are just the two of us. I’ll sit back and study the group, just want to confirm what kind of madness they subscribe to…So it’s no wonder I can fit in any crowd. Snobbish, nitakua. Marowdy, nitakua. Maholy, nitakua. Mabhangi…nikose?

3. “Don’t ask me how you look in that!”

photo-11.jpg
I’m the most honest idiot around. I think I am. In fact thanks to my honesty I have lost many a girlfriend. Never ask me for an honest opinion. You will get it. And it comes out in such a matter of fact way that you think me outright uncaring. I don’t like lying, though I love exercising my creativity by telling half-truths. Catch me with my pants down though and you have the truth, unedited, flowing like tuskers.

4. “Sawa, I’ll do it!”

photo-11a.jpg
If you hear this statement after I have shown resistance to your request, just know it won’t be done. Or it will be done, eventually…even if it’s a month later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a very helpful guy. I go out of my way to help others more than myself. All you have to do is ask nicely. Don’t come demanding it be done. And if it’s unreasonable, I’ll show resistance to do it, and if you insist, nitasema tu “sawa” ndio uniondokee, lakini jua tu, haifanywi.

5. “Twende!”

photo-11b.jpg
That’s my reaction to every and any plot. Modoathii twende carni? Twende! Modoathii twende UG? Twende. In this case, Modo tuhepe job (says the zungz)? Twende! So long as the plot has ‘raha’ written all over it, ‘modoathii’ will be all over it. I never care who is going, what the plot is…hizo tutajulia mbele. Guys know. I’m usually on plot lists even without being asked. In future, I foresee trouble when a mama comes into the picture. Itabidi ajipange. I’m too much of a free spirit.

6. “Sipigi!”

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I’m a jeans and tee-shirt kind of guy. Reason sipendi kupiga pasi. But once in a rare while I’ll reluctantly turn on the iron and I’ll be seen in a shirt. But never f**ked in. My ideal jeans, torn or dirty, whichever comes first. And faded. Naturally faded. Hakuna ati designer Fulani kule okoi anapitisha Jik, du.. I don’t like crispy new clothes. I hate smelling like a shop. Usitake kuona what I used to do when I was in primo. Sina time ya urembo mob. Shower, wear cleanest shirt, wear pararad jeano, chapa marashi ya undercover (not the prominent), chapa open ama simple njums and bounce away…five minutes dressing…max.

7. “You worry!”

photo-15.jpg
My favourite and famous line. Why do guys worry about other people? Why do people worry about their problems? Why worry? Every problem has a solution, every! So instead of worrying about how broke you are, move on. Two days later you’ll still be broke. Fifteen days later you’ll be paid. So why worry? Instead of worrying for 17 days about kusota, move on. Just know somehow you will get by, don’t worry how, and just get by. It’s also my favourite line when guys are hassling me about my business, which is none of theirs.

Bonus…

“It’s morning!”
This is my happiest moment. It explains why I’m always the happy child everyday and everywhere I go. I woke up, that’s the best news I could get any day. People always ask me why I’m always happy, my answer, “I woke up.” What more could one ask? Na sio ati naogopa kifo…ishna! Ikikuja ije…you worry!

Bottom line, I’m a simple yet complex guy who goofs a lot, always keeps his word, loves to do things differently (I’m a creative unataka ni-do?), cares less, worries zero, fears only hurting others, is scaringly (sic) honest, who enjoys life to the fullest, loves lurking in the shadows and will over 90% of the time have a smile on his face. Which brings me to my picture…
photo-7.jpg

I can’t post my face. Reason being, this isn’t Modoathii. Modoathii haonekanangi. Hana sura.

Who do I tag who hasn’t been tagged? Nusu Mbili, Bantutu , Wanja Shoodren, Mocha, and so on and so forth…William Tell where are you…drat, TAGGED!

To get a clear channel, get your neighbour’s May 10, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
7 comments

(A dialogue by two characters by modoathii…the drama is in the VOs…i hope, enjoy! Rather try and understand!)

Thunderous applause!

Cusses.

Curses.

Breaking glass.

Slamming of the door.

Cusses.

“Niaje msee!”

“(bleep) (bleep) (bleep) (bleep) (bleep) (bleep) (bleep) television!”

“O-okay!”

“Mazee, nilikua juu ya progie moja hapo kali alafu michele…mvua…”

“Juu ya…?”

“Nikahujui. We fala nini? Kuja nikushow.”

“Ile.”

“Oh, ah, aerial haishiki nini?”

“Banae!”

“Zungusha?”

“Nimezungusha hiyo something mpaka nimelewa. Nikizungusha zaidi nitamake square.”

“Haha! Sasa utado? Idhaa nigwan…huwezi anza kuenda kusaka aerial saa hii?”

“Nani amekuambia?”

“Hakuna duka iko open banaa.”

“Nani amesema naenda kubuy?”

“Utatoa wapi?”

“Niaje maswali ka za clinic daddy?”

“Haha! Fala!”

“Muja nikudigishe. Unayebi…”

“Unanionyesha maroof za makeja ndio?”

TWAF!

“Sasa mbona umeniwai ngoto, man!”

“We ni fala nini? Hizo ni maerial daddy.”

“Ndio, kwani unaona nikama utazisanya nini?”

Silence!

“Wacha kunidigi ivo bro…HAIYA! Uko serious? Unataka kuzing’am!”

“Finally, Houston we have contact! Kwani si unaona vile zimedungwa hivyo…ni ka kuenda shopping.”

“Acha ulafa.”

“Nisaidie hapa man.”

“Sasa unafanya nini na hiyo pipa?”

“Msee. Ukiniuliza swali ingine kaa mnaju wa miaka mbe nitakuweka ndani ya hii pipa. Iweke pale na uwache maswali fortey.”

“Then what?”

“Yaani, umegwaya mpaka ukabonji ngoso, fala nini?”

“This isn’t right…argh, hii si poa jos, utapatikana.”

“Unampango wa kuenda kuambia mamako?”

“Duh, lakini__”

“Bas, Nishikie hapo.”

“But…”

“But ni budako? Shika hapo. Na mazee ukiniangusha nita kuangukia na mablow. Sawa? Haiya, unishow wadhii wakimuja.”

“Mazee, hii ni SQ ya yule modhii fala.”

“Bas, nani mpoa wakumchukulia aerial…”

“KUIBIA!”

“Sawa, nani mfiti wa KUIBIA kushinda yeye?”

“Eish.”

“Badae. Watch my back!”

Wee rudi bana…nikaa anakam.

“Wacha kuwhisper ka tenje ya pastor.”

FALA…oops…fala!”

“Haha”

“Mazee huchali ni crazy…sasa anado what? Zi kwanza mimi ninado what? Nafaa kuwa keja nikisambaziwa machaplaga na masa. U chali ataniweka kwa fire ingine hapo hot kushinda ya devo. Saa cheki, karibu adunde akipanda maroof za wadhii. Na badala aende mbali anamuibia tu jirani…eish!”

“NIMEWAI!”

“Ala huyu mbuyu alikuwa anaona TV? Anazusha telly yake hainyiti. Teremka tuishie! Chap chap!”

“TWENDE! TWENDE!”

“Yaani umewai msee aerial akiyebi telly?”

“Hahahahaha!”

“Na unacheeka?’

“Unataka nilie? Wachana na huyo fala…by the time agutuke nitakuwa nikicheki movie ya KBC mbaya.”

“Yaani, umeiba aerial ya KTN ndio uone KBC?”

“Nakushoigi uwachage kunyonya. We ni fala! Juu ati hizi maerial zilihitajika ndio wasee wanyite KTN vipoa ndio sasa unaziita za KTN…”

Silent stare.

“Fala!”

“Yaani, Marto, umesanya aerial?”

“Utakaa hapo nje ka masa ukiimba wimbo bila lyrics ama utaingia tucheki hii progie?”

“Eish enyewe kukuzushia ni ka kupigia mbuzi guitar.”

“Ting ting meeeh!”

“Hahaha”

“Hahaha”

“Twende basi…mazee na mkue mnagrao…”

Maureen’s Whore shafted by the Fools May 2, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.
7 comments

Jose (pronounced appropriately Horsey…by me) should have guessed the night wouldn’t quite go his way. Especially after the extra ‘man’ crashed in on the meeting. Though you can’t really call it a gatecrashing considering he came to the ‘Fool’s’ home.

Music was blaring from the onset from the resident live band, which was not taking requests, especially not from Horsey, Maureen’s Whore. The special one. This evening he had requested the blues. A special mix of blues.

There was nothing special tonight. In fact the ‘fools’ made him so ordinary that all he saw was red. And blood hadn’t been spilled yet. This would be one stormy night.

It was heated from the word go. And the ‘band’ played on encouragingly. This ‘Fool” knew he wasn’t walking alone.

In a few minutes, the ‘fool’ smacked the special one on the face. A nice sweet left that Maureen’s Whore never saw coming. Sweet revenge for the slap the ‘fool’ got last week. Horsey scratched and scratched but never did much damage. In fact, quite late into the meeting, the ‘Fool” unleashed a serious right that had Horsey reeling, But quick action from the tormented waiter saved him…but not for long.

The band was hysterical. The levels were deafening. The Whore looked worried. The ‘Fool’ just smiled. Two quick kicks under the table had Maureen’s Whore reeling before the ‘fool’ unleashed one more punch.

Horsey, Maureen’s Whore was down! The ‘fool’ walked round the starry-eyed Whore and gave him a good shaft in the backside. That was it.

The Whore was TERRYfied. “DIDIER see that? We were ROBBEN in broad daylight.” He cried, as he asked for the CECH. And like a Nigerian ‘broda’ he cried, “OBI looking for you in the night. Be careful, FOOL!”

The ‘fool’ was surprised by the sudden name-COLEing. “This isn’t WRIGHT,” thought he as he ‘accidentally’ knocked down the LAMPARD, “Wacha MAKELELE, we are from Europe, not ESSIENs”

The ‘fool’ walked victoriously past the Whore’s battered FERREIRA parked just outside. As he waltzed into sunset with the Horsey’s scalp he spotted one sad ROMAN in the shadows in his usual drabby attire.

The final date was set, the ‘fool’ would meet UNCLE OTI in Greece, again.

GO LIVERPOOL!