Recalling all nudes.

Sex tapes and “secret conversations.”

Jesus said, let he without sin cast the first stone. In Kenya, that would have turned out to be a hail of stones of all sizes coming from all directions. Why? Because Kenyans love a scandal, anything will be done to not only push a story, but act like you were there when it happened. These are dark times, your friend will snitch on you faster than you can say bitch… but I digress.

Social media has turned out to be the biggest anti-social tool in the history of man. “Udaku” seems to be its main use, sharing of sleazy stories, videos and photos happens faster than a call to action for immunization against Polio. I get that there is nothing funnier than a good roast, but where do you draw the line? Some stories are true, some not so true, but who cares… right?

I have recently discovered an even greater messaging app that will help you save face in case you send that saucy nude of yours to the wrong James. I know completion is stiff, your best features cannot always appear on your CV, and you can’t be bothered to wait for at least six months before putting out. I totally get it. So you choose to sweeten the process by sharing your bikini area completely uncovered, because you have run out of ways to say no, and EVERYBODY knows your menses come only once a month. So go on, wax, douche (just in case), moisturize and find suitable lighting, press send. Wait for a reaction that will also help pay rent. Or maybe not.

You and your boys have never gotten out of campus mode. You’re all married, with a litter of children, but fisi ni fisi in any setting. There is always that one guy, the one who has a chain of women who are always eager to please. It’s not his looks, he is literally a pauper, doesn’t even drive a Subaru ( he he he, calm down people), but no! He gets laid more times than you care to remember. How do you know? He shares his latest catch with the group, and proceeds to give details of where and how it happened. Then you all score her (literally assign a grade), some out of ignorance, others out self-pity, others because boredom is the devils workshop. His latest catch happens to be known all too well, and one of the boys has shared the conversation with his other boy. Screen shots complete with images, cell numbers and who said what. Wait for it.

The wife has been grumpier than normal. You cannot for the life of you remember what you did wrong, out of the usual coming home at 0700hrs and expecting a warm hug with sausages and toast.  Even the monosyllabic conversations have run dry, you have been thrown out of the bedroom, and the kids have gone to visit the grandparents. If you had bothered to be nicer to the wifes’ best friend, you would have known that your phone was your undoing. You were better off setting a password like normal people, than opting to use your thumb print. When you blacked out thanks to drink, your thumb print did not morph into a blanket, no sirree! She placed it on your screen and presto! Access to your all! So that cutie pie who’s been after you texted to find out if you got home safe, and to know if Godzilla is very upset that you didn’t go home. Just as a reminder, she also sends photos of her delicate areas, as a reward for choosing to stay the night with her. Screen shots and texts have been forwarded, you will be dared to deny. It will be easier to resurrect a dinosaur than to get out of this one.

I am not asking anyone to become a saint, all I’m saying is cover your back side because hell has no fury like a woman scorned, and careers have ended on even less! SessMe, is the answer to ALL your problems, and I mean all! I know I went on and on about Telegram here, but I kid you not, SessMe is even sassier than Telegram on steroids!

For example, when you send the wrong James your nudes, assuming you were on SessMe, you could have deleted those pictures from the NETWORK! Even if the wrong James quickly forwarded it to his boys, they would not be able to drool over your goodies because you have recalled your photo! You are welcome!

You overzealous lover with TMI, that group conversation turned trend on twitter could have been saved. Delete photos and conversations on the group and from anyone else who forwarded the messages. How? Did you know you that you can choose to have private conversations that cannot be screen shot or forwarded? You can also see how many times an item has been forwarded, and by whom. So you can totally go to town on that snitch, and unfriend his telling ass.

As for the philandering husband… I am almost sorry that this app will basically enable such. However, drama with Godzilla would have been avoided if and only if SessMe had been in operation. The many options ranging from private conversations ( these are encrypted you guys…they look like emoticon’s that make no sense to third parties… brilliant!), blocking screen shots and also setting an alert of any before they are taken, and the customary blocking of the forward option. If your significant other has this app though, I give you permission to go ape shit ( here I am being a loyal Kenyan… he he he!)

Just like in any court of law, ignorance is no excuse. I hereby impart knowledge upon you, let your ratchetness know no boundaries, shoot more sex tapes and not so polite boudoir shoots and share them. But do so on SessME, thank me later.


*Udaku: Tendency to gossip

*Fisi: Slang for men that excessively love women, aka thigh mongers.


Image Credits

Alego Clear and other luxuries

From 0 to 100 in 10 mins

Until very recently, I thought I had pretty much experienced everything  when it came it alcohol and anything that resulted from its consumption. I could not have been more wrong! It’s as if I have been living in a soft cushiony bubble, drinking only mineral water that has passed through the hands of a virgin Mermaid based at the foot of mount Kilimanjaro. Until now, anything that I have consumed and sometimes abused has been a colossal waste of time, money and hours of my life. It has been child’s play compared to this drink, which I am still reaching for words to describe. Let me explain.

I recently visited Dala, with all the intention of experiencing how “Andû a mukira” live. Perhaps I should have taken a chill pill or two as I declared I want to the full Luo experience during my stay because what I got… I am still recovering from.  The heat is like a long preview of Hell, Hell during Summer. There is just no escaping it, it doesn’t matter. It’s cooler if you to lie under a shady tree than to be in your house, even with the AC on. But sleep with one eye open, because Monitoring lizards and Omieris’ cousins will make a meal of you. It really is a difficult position to be in, where less is more but you can’t because you suffer from good upbringing.

My trip to Luanda Market was nothing short of exciting. I have never experienced anything like it, I also realized some rules do not apply here. For example, the number of people who openly smoked Weed like it was a pack of Menthols was shocking! Worse yet, they were mostly women, and they were louder than a banshee. I asked why this was necessary and was aptly informed that weed here is like beans in Central. Orientation with the said weed (yes, I see the irony, weed is a weed) starts before birth, because mothers drink it in their porridge, and it is used to treat common ailments such as tooth aches, head aches, tummy aches, any ache really. Also, the glazed over eyes staring at you are not sleep deprivation or deeply seated boredom, they are simply in deep meditation, and please do not bother them with negotiating because you cannot reach their depth of consciousness. Just pay and go away, thank you.

I thought fish was everything here, until I was accosted by a delicacy called Ng’wen. Mmmmh! I think the heat must have been getting the best of me because I went ahead and tasted the stuff. Ng’wen are insects, more like White flying ants that are captured and fried to produce the crunchiest yummiest yuckiest item I have ever put in my mouth. I don’t know if it’s because of the fat they carry, or the fact that they had just come up from the earth and have not been properly washed, but the taste can only be summarized as Umami. Yes, that is it, Umami. You have to taste it to believe it. 1 small cup costed 100 shillings, maybe it’s because I looked like I had just arrived from Othaya, but I felt generous and curious so I caved in. The next stall held sleek silver fish that were still wriggling and blinking. The blonde haired lady, who appeared sober enough to carry a conversation to its end greeted us with far too much enthusiasm and asked how many we will have. Well, the extent of my knowledge with fish begun and ended with their eyes. I had this far known that if the eyes were not sunken, then the fish was good. Well, slap me down with a tail feather! There appeared to be much much more to it, for example; the flexibility of the fish was of grave concern. If you managed to bend the fish and it cooperated, then you are in luck, the said fish is fresh! A stiff fish signified its residency at the stall, the stiffer it was, the longer it had stayed, the quicker you should get away from it it. Also, the amount of blood in the gills, it needed to be just red enough to show that the fish has not been out of water for too long. My “eyes”  theory was also not too far off, I usually worked with it because it did not involve touching raw fish…. Sigh!

Fruits and vegetables were so fresh you could get cured of colds just by looking at them. The water melons were wetter and sweeter, I shamelessly ate a full pineapple in one sitting because they  were not at all acidic but pleasured my mouth with their sweetness! I tell you, retirement may be in these here parts, if only for all the fresh foods and boisterous life! Nothing beats country living.

So my people and I arrived home tired to the bones and hot under the collar. Unpacking was done and fires lit, it was time to fry the fish and prep for dinner. We sat around three stoned fires on short wooden stools under a very starry sky, it appeared the universe had conspired to turn this into a festive evening. Before I knew it there was music and very stiff liquor as far as I remember. Alego Clear, as it was introduced is a local brew whose alcohol content must be over 70%. It has other less sexy names, so I will stick with Alego Clear and you can insert what you call the brew from your area here. This, I tell you is a drink for champions. It should not be drunk by persons under 80kgs, and certainly not on an empty stomach. Those who have never partaken of anything other than beer should also keep off, and do not think that you can mix this strain with anything else. Alego Clear is to be respected, served in Crystal with two ice cubes and a cigar held on your left hand. Drunk in silence if possible, and on rare occasions.

I say this out of concern for those whose initiation with The Clear ended like mine did. I was handed a glass and told that before we drink, we must share with our ancestors and all who have gone before us. Some water was poured to the ground and a hip hip hooray type of chant was said. I looked at my glass and asked to have some liquor and was told to drink what I had first. My glass was empty, so I tipped it over my mouth, like you would mouth wash to show that they had forgotten to serve me.  I was met by a surprise. There appeared to have been a liquid in it, which was bitter and tasted of the earth. Like earthy Gin. It had other layers that I did not have time to process because once it hit the back of my throat, I was left with two options; spit it out like a sissy or swallow and die later. So I swallowed, and bellowed like bull. This was followed by loud cheering, because they thought that I was one of the real sisters from Luo land, drinking Clear like I belonged. But in truth, I was having trouble believing that my head was spinning, why were my eyes out of focus?

The thing is, Alego Clear derived its name from the fact that it is so purely distilled that it looks cleaner than mineral water. You will mistake a full glass of Clear for an empty glass, because the difference is the same.  You will not discern of it, unless you’re the one who poured it. If I had not been cleaning fish, perhaps I would have been able to pick up on the smell of it. It is pungent, nothing like Dior or Johnnie, but an alien smell with earthy tones. If the smell does not get you drunk, rest assured the drink will.

So after my swallowing three fingers in one gulp, my evening was cut short (or so I think). I remember nothing. Total black out. I understand that I have some apologies to make, perhaps I will do them in writing because the tales being told are nothing I want to be associated with. I am made to understand that I have made a name for myself, Osogo Winyo may be releasing a single in my honor.  Alego Clear… not for the faint hearted.

Good cup Bad cup

I harbor about a million pet peeves, chief among them being people who smell of nothing; not soap, or a polite deodorant, or rain. Of all the delightful scents on earth, you cannot choose to smell of nothing, it is not normal, please be a sport and go floral or musky.

Today however is dedicated to those who split their cups. I mean those whose cups overflow, because proper fitting to them is optional, and so are loose fitting cotton blouses. I say, why does the fact that you are displaying four boobs not bother you? Were you a bovine in your past life? This needs to end, and it needs to end now.

So here are two tips to help you save on the spillage and keep you boobage in place. Use them and share them, especially my sisters whose cups exceed D, I understand your struggle but believe me it can be managed.

1. Bend over
This is not a sexual innuendo, you will need to bend over and jiggle when buying a bra and wearing one for the rest of your life. I came to find out that after clipping your goods in place, you need to properly position your goodies WITHIN the allocated space ( which is the bra cup). After the bending and jiggling, stand up straight and confirm that indeed,you are not over flowing. Should there be extra boob left unattended, and looks squashed, kindly dispose of that bra BECAUSE IT DOES NOT FIT!

You need to appreciate that the unattended boob situation is not as a result of those amazing pieces called push up/ wonder bras ( and yes, the bend over procedure still applies here). The product of a wonder bra will look well rounded and happy. They will not appear pushed out and crimped, but will form well rounded delicate masses; floating globes of flesh if you will.  These are more often than not is very pleasing to the eye, I beg, you are not to confuse the two.

2. Extend, extend , extend
I gather that we of the wider girth do not always get the right cup to go with the required circumference. Which results in our already existing rolls being further subdivided into something akin to a croissant. A direct result of this forcing of issues is that your front area also suffers, with your girls not only spilling over at the top, but also at the sides near the armpits. This is beyond pitiful, but have no fear, a solution is here!

Some genius somewhere invented bra extenders! A nifty little piece of thingy that latches snugly into your bra and allows you up to an extra two inches ! Imagine that! Now your ribs can breathe easy and there is no need to add to your love handles! The extenders are discreet and come in all colors, only thing is…warn your partner, s/he may take longer than usual to unclasp… you are welcome.


So there you have it, please take care of the environment… my eyes should suffer no longer.

Go on, cup something!

Image credits.