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Curtains June 25, 2008

Posted by modoathii in Uncategorized.

This is a collection of short stories.



So, who’s with me?

Who agrees with me that women should walk around with mood billboards the size of egos, and have a PR guy follow them around, warning the world of their shifty moods? The PR guy is to make sure you don’t get the mood wrong.

JEEZ! Clearly I’m not good at reading ‘signs’.

Mazee, today, I went to ask some chick who’s in charge of some project if I could skive her project presentation so I could for the Safcom marathon at Lewa. BOSSSSSS!

“Good morning?” I asked pleasantly to warm her.

“Hallo” She replied coldly to warn me.

Brrrrr! “So I, er, understand there’s a presentation tomorrow…Friday? Er, am I in it?”


C-c-c-c-cold. Man what’s with her. At this point. I walk away coz the big sign, which I’m about to ignore, says “DON’T TALK TO ME.”

I pause at her door thinking heck, let me try and break the ice with a joke.

Guys, word of advice, never try breaking ice with a joke. Use an ice pick. Or in this case just leave it be. I tried…

“Aaaa, so unaelewa kuna vile tunaenda kulewa kule Lewa na____”*


What happened next was a blur. All I remember is that it felt as if I had stuck my head out the window of a fast moving car. My face was flushed and my dreads were, you know, winded. 

So no LEWAring for me at LEWA, mnaeLEWA? Juu mi sielewi vile kusoma signs.**



*Aaaa, so do you know guys are going drinking in Lewa.

**So no drinking for me at Lewa, understand? Coz I don’t know how to read signs. Best said in swa.



Fifty bob! Hamsini! Hamsini! Fifty bob!

Okay in this case the stock is cheaper, 25 or 30 bob depending on the markets.

But this isn’t the stock market people…this is the snack market.

Yep. Due to some…actually I don’t know how I got myself into this fix.

Here is a brief history.

While with Ann Yolanda I had a healthy appetite and a wallet to match. As others were consuming snacks worth a measly 7 sok, at most a G, per month, I checked in with a whooping 3.5K bill.

I moved up to celebrity status. The snack’s lady had found a gold mine. She could now dream of moving her kids from Free-8-then-fo-fo-fo system to ile ya wazungu (GCE). She was making it big time. Profit margins were in a percentage only Safcom understand (note I said percentage) Rumor had it because business was sooooo good she had also planned an IPO. And being a JJ she had pictured a hummer. But she don’t say.

But Jane Waithera called and, well, it was a sad history. Business went down, she had to fire someone, 8-4-4 ya wazungu was out and IPO, haipo. As for hummer….eish, unless nihame tena.

Since she was good to me, like 20kg good, I said I’d scout for her business wherever I was going.

Now here I am. Selling snacks. In the office huku Racecourse Karen. Competing successfully against ana’a lady who was there before but customers complained that her product was baaaaad! Now for her business is slow. She still doesn’t know I’m the one who’s doing her in.

The day I disappear for long and you find me in a ditch with a samosa up my throat (I’m praying she won’t put it in my arse) just know she knows.

Gats to go, customers are calling. Samosas anyone?



This is the (short) story of the chick who found us generously downing vodoski at Marto’s place.

After watching us teremshaing with glee she asked for some too. Now Marto wasn’t feeling this chick. He never has. And he wasn’t about to lose precious vodo to this chick.

But he had no choice. Maboys told him to wekea her some dose.

Reluctantly he grabbed a glass and wekad a healthy amount. The chick said she’ll chapa (drink) it with coke. Marto smiled.

The chick took a sip and winced. “It’s strong, but sawa tu.”

Marto’s smile got ‘louder’.

The aftee wore on and the wench after a few many tots started saying she’s feeling tipsy.

Marto SOLed. (What? Oh, he Smiled out Loud)

Night checked in with all the passwords, and our heroine had had too much too drink, she claimed she was now high.

Marto ROFS (Come on, you guys are bloggers, you know this one)

She stood up swaying and staggered out of Marto’s crib. The next day she called us and she complained of a massive hangover.

Marto could take it no more. He ROFSHAO.

All this time we were looking at Marto wondering why the loud smiles. Kumbe, Marto instead of mixing for her vodo and coke…

…was putting WATER AND COKE!




Why doesn’t it happen to me? Why? Why? Why?

You know those stalkers who usually call and they just breathe into the phone? The ones who even though you put them near a booming tenje they just ‘listen’? Well my pal has one. And I don’t.

Okay, listen, I know it’s some scary shit and all. Especially, if it’s a dude. But it’s a chick and I’m thinking, week one I’ll want to know who be you, then when I know your game, I’m gon’ play with you…and you don’t want to play with us creative types. I mean think about it, everyday will be a challenge for me to be more creative to piss them off.

How cool is that? And imagine the endless blog stories.

And at this point I’m dragged back to my padded cell.



I have some sad news.

I am taking a hiatus…a longer one, this time. And…unfortunately I may not return.

The couch has served its purpose, it’s now time to step aside and you know, wachia wengine. I started it as a challenge and I have achieved what I set out to achieve.

I’ve met a few bloggers, become friends, loved some, had tiffs with others…actually I haven’t, but the whole journey has been great. I now have to take my bow, and take my leave. I leave you in the able hands of other worthy bloggers. Y’all know them.

I have a serious dent in mojo, helped massively, actually, helped exclusively by time constraints. I have no time to even read your posts. But I’ll be around reading and enjoying them great blogs out there. So mkiona modo something or other, msalimie…

Be easy.

Keep blogging (from someone who isn’t..heheheh)

Modo taking leave!

Exit stage left!