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The attack! October 19, 2007

Posted by modoathii in BT, my love life, the good times.

I was seated there at the bar as usual sipping my vodo politely, as usual. When suddenly there was all this commotion. What was going on? Up to now the ride had been smooth.

As I sat there wondering what was going on, this arrow-riddled Muthii bursts in to the bar.

What the…!

He looks at me.

I look at him.

It is evident he’s been hit. But looking into his eyes, you can see this determination not to let go. He doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t need to. As he continues down the corridor he is struck by another arrow. How is he surviving? Si ashuke aende apate usaidizi?

By now curiosity has peaked, and am about to kill something. Spiders’ livelihoods. I have been sitting here on this ride for two years plus and my unmoving body had proved to be prime housing location for generations of spiders. As I stood up, many web condos were demolished. The spiders that protested were squished.



Anybody else? No? I thought so.

As I am rounding the corner this mad one passes me once, twice, thrice. She/they look at me and repetitively mumble “Falling! Falling!” and she/they are off. I notice an arrow in her back.

Whoever this attacker is he is really wrecking havoc.


I hear happy laughter.

I look back and see this “pwetty pwety kitty” laughing her head off. Well, at least someone’s happy. Lodged in her chest is an arrow. Similar to the ones that have almost flattened the confused and unwilling muthii and the one that had lodged in the mad one(s). Strangely, this one is happy. Clearly she’s not jaded.



I hear sinister laughter now.

What now? I wonder, as I look in the direction from whence the puddy cat and the laugh came from. I’m shocked. Well actually not really.

YOU? You’re the attacker? You’re the one causing such drama on this ride?

The attacker (not him) is none other than this little boy. Barely…jeez, how old would you say he is? In his hand is this glistening bow and on his back this fine leather quiver loaded with lots and lots of arrows.

I remember him. Just recently he had raided us again. His victim was this guy who after a nyc unique experience was forced to jump off the ride at some station miles back.

He looks at me.


He LOOKS at me.


He lifts his hand and points at me.


He removes an arrow.

I look behind me. I don’t see the muthii. Neither do I see the mad one(s). The kitten has also scampered off.

He has now loaded his bow.

No. Me?

He lifts it.


He pulls.


He lets fly.


As the arrow cuts smoothly throw the tense air…


…my mind is racing. Why me? What did I do? All I did was look at her. I didn’t do anything.


It hits the spot.



Hey, it’s a nice feeling. Hit me ag__


Ok. But easy dude.


HEY! EASY! EASY! JEEZ! What you wanna do kill m___


Clearly there’s no escaping these arrows. These ones are heart-seeking missiles.

And all because I looked at her.

Her who?

Well, I saw her through the window. She was seated on the platform of the train station and I almost wasted good vodo by spitting it out. So I instead swallowed hard and succeeded in choking myself. I coughed so hard, the bar tender gave me a free shot. (Hmm, I’ve been trying to cough like that ever since but no free shot has been forthcoming)

Anyway, where was I? Yeah, she was seated there on the bench. She was looking like oh so pretty. Man, that was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen and it helped the stinging vodo go down smoothly. My heart skipped that proverbial beat. I was feeling things I’d never thought I’d feel again.

There she was. (heart SKIP) Dayumm! She had crossed her legs. How I wanted to be that bench. Next to her was lots of luggage. And she looked weary. She definitely needed a rest.

Oh, she could rest on the couch. Anytime.

I took a quick sip of my vodo only to discover the train was pulling away, without her.

Why wasn’t she getting on board? She kept looking back like she was waiting for someone. But that someone wasn’t coming.

It was as I was thinking what to do about this miraculous situation, that this arrow-laden young bandit attacked the train.

And after all these arrows, there is no way I am staying on board with this maniac.

So a few metres from the station where I had seen this damsel in the dress, I pull the emergency brakes. The train screeches to a stop and I jump out. Muthii is thrown out too, but he is clinging on the door. Dude let go. The kitten has been tossed out too and she’s walking aimlessly smiling to herself into the forest. The mad one(s) is still ‘falling’. One after the other.

Too bad for them. I run back to the station. My stumble on the platform makes her look my way. Our eyes meet.


Something near the heart snaps.


Another arrow lodges itself near the heart.


I look back and wave.


The baby-faced bandit waves back and continues unleashing his ammo on the hapless muthii.

The BT pulls away and a brand spanking new pimped up train rolling on 18-inch rims complete with spinners pulls up at the station…

“Shall we?” I ask the broad.

“We shall.”

To new adventures!


Not from the train, but from me.

PS, I know I have gotten excess (sex) education and poems fulani fulani but I still need prayers. Bana, I’ve been on the BT for the longest. I’ve rusted.

To good times!


The things we do for love! October 9, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.

Most of the things people do for love are usually kinda unbelievable, ridiculous, humiliating but rarely painful. But when dealing with one character, anything is possible, and most probably it will be painful.

We are talking about Marto.

Dude always has interesting luck. The luck of a toilet fly having gladly discovered a generous amount of s**t, only for it to be flushed away. (for luck of a better example)

1. The writing is in the brain.

The year is kitambo. The place is primo. The class is six. The teacher is at the front writing the lesson’s notes on the blackboard. The chick is sitting next to Marto. And Marto, well, is bugging her.

This is primary school, so you have to remember that ‘bugging’ a chick really meant you ‘loved’ that chick. The more you ‘bugged’ her the more you liked her.

Of course, as usual, this girl matured way before this boy (Marto is still struggling to mature) so her ‘interpretation’ skills changed. To her bugging is plain bugging. Not love. If it were last month, she would have felt the love, but she matured this month and she was now feeling bugged bugged.

Marto, like most guys, didn’t get (or show any intention of getting) an A in reading signs. So him he continues to share his love with this fly chick seated next to him. His deski. Despite the many attempts the chick is making to lenga him.

Ten minutes of ‘loving’, however becomes too much for our chiley. And since she’s mature enough, she doesn’t need any teacher’s assistance. She’s a lady and can take care of herself.

Oh and she did.

She reciprocates her ‘love’ by grabbing her newly sharpened Staedtler pencil and politely (with great force) shoving it, rather drilling it, into Marto’s head.


Teacher turns to find Marto with a pencil in his head. Used to Marto the teacher is cool,

“Martin, when I said put away your pencils, I didn’t say you could put yours there.”

Well, the teacher grasped the urgency of the situation when Marto didn’t laugh back. He usually laughs. He was rushed to the sanatorium in good time and unleashed for first aid.

Marto survived, and this moment in history was ‘penciled’ in his brain…plus, he never tried to show that much love again.

2. Itching for love!

The time; one evening many years later after the pencil ordeal.

The place; outside a chiley’s house.

The task; darting this fine squeeze.

(the exact conversation was left out because we discovered that being the only bean in someone’s githeri may not be very digestible in this day and age)

So Marto is over there at the gate of this gorgeous girl’s house. I must say lyrics were flowing. Darts were being unleashed in a way that would have made those guys who played the Tusker Festival of Darts very proud…

“Martin you require…”

Anyway, so yeah, lyrics were flowing. Yaani mpaka the chick had drawn a detailed map of Africa in the dirt.


The scene is actually set in Limuru, hence the dirt. And what happened to chileys drawing maps…I blame the lack of proper geography lessons. (ok, we also lost our mad skills)

If Marto had looked he would have finally seen where Guinea Bissau is located. But his eyes were fixated on the girl’s sweet round face. Once in a very frequent while the eyes would slide down her smooth curvaceous body, ‘speed bumping’ in the chest area. He would have looked into her eyes but she was feeling ‘shame on me’ coz of the sweet vibe she was getting so was looking away.

But like they say every good thing comes to an end.


The chick’s dad came home early that day. And he wasn’t in a happy mood. His drinking plan must have been katisiwad. The local Mwendas was closed. Anyway, whether he was in a good mood or not, there is no way you are ‘lyricing’ his daughter. Kwanza by Marto. Never. He’s not only afraid his ‘precious’ will be deflowered (too late) but he’s worried of the devaluation. Instead of the 100 heads of cattle as dowry she can attract, it would be like ten goats and a bonus of 20 chickens. After Marto is done with her.

Marto was a definite no-no!

So he had no time to run, plus the only exit was huko where the dad was coming from. He quickly and stealthily jumped into the bush nearby.


One word. (Unfortunately, I only know the Kikuyu name for it)


(Dhafai is some plant with pumpkin-like leaves that cause a nasty itch when touched. I think it’s the stinging nettle.)

Marto had jumped head first into a bush of dhafai (stinging nettles). Two seconds later he was jumping out.


He almost knocked chiley’s daddy down. And chiley’s daddy himself was so terrified he unleashed the only two karate stances he knew and the wildest battle cry he could muster.


In a flash, Marto had disappeared. Only stopping after a 500-metre sprint to scratch himself raw.

Poor Marto.

3. When darts meet arrows!

Yaani, by now Marto was wishing these were the good ol’ days. The days when guys just waited for chicks to go to the river and they would abscond with the flyest….and lightest.

Place; Limuru bado.

Exactly where; at the gate of ana’a chiley. (this was many months later…Marto sio playa)

Time; not the good ol’ days.

Marto had been seeing this chick for a while now. Three weeks, that’s quite a while.

Anyway, this chick’s digs is on the other ridge and getting to her place is a saga in itself. Hills, grasslands, fences, dogs, and when you get there, you have to deal with brothers. And of cos the father.

This time however, no bush or karate 101….

It was a fine Sato morning, around 11, and I was taking Marto to visit the ipod of his eye..(bana we are moving with the times, ‘apple’ is so old skool, na since Apple make macs, iphones and…). I hate taking guys to see their chicks, coz I usually end up zoobing and counting grass blades. But this day I was bored and I’d rather count blades, plus, you never know labda ako na sister…

We had successfully conquered the hills, fyekad through the grasslands, jumped fences, fed the dogs with dust as we ran…so now we just had to deal with the bros and the fathe.

We were just entering the gate when…


Eish. We looked at each other. What was that?


Enyewe, I had joked that I can dodge bullets, but these weren’t bullets.


We looked up to see the fathe, gesturing angrily at us. In his hand was…boss, a bow. On his shoulder, a quiver full of rusted arrows. Once again it seemed that Marto’s reputation had preceded him.


We were away!

Back the same way we came. Dogs, fences, grassland, hills, etc only faster. For half the way, the fathe was unleashing arrows at us. Luckily you can’t shoot straight from a bow while running. Yaani, one fathe had jifanyad Jackie Chan, this one now was Robin Hood. And he wasn’t robbing no rich folk.

Needless to say, that ka relationship didn’t last.

The things we go through for love! Rather, the things Marto went through for love.

My dream post! October 4, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.


Ever had those dreams that don’t make sense? The ones where, you are dreaming of one thing and then shock on you, you are elsewhere, doing something totally unorthodox…You all know those dreams…haiya welcome to my dream post.

It all started out well.

He looked right. Then left.

While leaving the building he would bump into her. She was well endowed. With jugs from here to there. She had jugs that could carry litres of water, others just big enough to quench that thirst. And that’s the jug he bought.

As he walked merrily down the street, he would slip on the kerb. He tripped. He ran forth. He ran back. All in an effort to make sure the jug didn’t crack.

But they did. The people all cracked up laughing at this spectacle. And for once in a long while someone was laughing at him. No one ever dared laugh at him. Coz if they did, he would thump them silly. But today he appreciated the laughter.

The innocent laughter of children playing in the park. It brought back memories. The days when he played with the kite his dad had helped him build. The kite that flew high…very high.

But his girl never liked when he was that high. Just like any normal chiley she was never comfortable around him when he drunk himself silly. He would stumble all over knocking tables. Making a mess of everything. What a state he would be in.

In this state everything was c-c-c-c-old. What do you expect when the sun shines for 6 months and doesn’t for the next six. It’s white everywhere. Like a blanket laid neatly over a bed. It was snowing. It always snows here. Alaska.

“No! Let me ask her.” He insisted. I let him. But pity, he didn’t succeed. Well, actually he did succeed, he successfully got slapped. I mean, how do you go and ask a chiley such a question? Kwani she’s your sister? Even some lines can’t be used as pick ups.

Kwanza those ones fully loaded with miraa. You know them. The Toyota pick-ups. The ones from Meru. The ones that shika or should I say don’t shika barabara coz they are usually on the fly.

Even a swat here and a swat there. Never gets rid of the stubborn sucker. And it’s like they know, there you are with a fly mama trying to look sexy and hot when bzzzzzzzzz…

Mazee, kumbe ulilala…ZZZZZZ!


Blame it on the painkillers. I just had a few. Honest!


It’s GONE! October 2, 2007

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.

Hey peeps (or as JD in Scrubs would say….my peepees)

This is an update on my chest pains…

They’re gone. No more pain (though It’s still hanging around like a bad smell). I was worried I’d be dependent on painkillers coz kuna siku sikuchukua…WEEE! the pain involved. So like a good boy and after persuasion from some special ‘element’, I finished my dosage…and HOORAY!

It’s been 48 hours without pain. Without pain killers. Without…ooops, got carried away.

Thanks everyone. All the ‘doctors’ in the house, your advice was not disregarded, and your prayers were much appreciated.

But unfortunately, I still don’t know what caused or is causing it. Neither do the doctors. This is the one case I’m proud to say, I’m as clueless as the doctors…then I feel learned.

If it’s posture, I’m sitting properly. If it’s baridi, I’m well covered. If it’s heartache, we’ll just have to ambia whoever is bugging my heart to ease up. Kama ni stress, I’m over it…Kama ni nja..nimekula kama watu fortey. Oh, na kama ni wazimu…I have Mathare on speed dial!

So until it makes a reappearance, let’s enjoy the moments.


Thanks ALL! I appreciate!

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