Thursday, May 6, 2010


Dear reader,

The Sanctum, which has changed its name to 'The Synctum' has now moved and can be found at Any inconveniences caused is highly regreted. But really the new location is just a click away so you know what to do. Catch you on the other side.

Yours sincerely,


NB: If you have The Sanctum on your blogroll, it will be much appreciated if you made the necessary changes. Thanks!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


In the hood, you can see my portraits on the street walls and the poles of electricity, sometimes even on the trees. It’s like every other corner I take they speak of me, in the salons, in the barber shops, in the ghetto, in the suburbs I’m most wanted, I’m a fugitive. In the local precincts of the northern as well as of the southern parts I’m listed as a missing person but I don’t want to be found. The women sought after me the most, some of them hot some of them not. They pray to see me in their dreams, some that I may fall straight from heaven into their world. They send me tons of letters and write about me in their journals, they say “Mr. Right, where are you hiding? Come rock my world, marry me! I won’t quit waiting for you”. Now that’s sweet, but I’m just one guy. Shall I clone myself? But thankfully, I have imposters claiming to be me, I appreciate that. They wear a mask and try to walk like me. They buy new clothes but it just won’t change them. Act smart, but their swag ain’t like mine. I feel sorry for the women who fall victim, but I can only belong to one of you at a time.

You may say; Mr. Right, you are not fair! Why are you hiding when we need you? You are like the love Superman, the Spiderman of romance, come save us before it’s too late, before sexy becomes extinct! I brought sexy back once; a guy named Justin Timberlake took all the credit for it. He fooled many ladies into thinking he was me. I don’t think the ladies fell for his cheap imitation of me that much; it’s Jason Derulo who is pulling it off. Back to why I’m hiding, it’s why they call me Mr. Right. I don’t fight, I love. I don’t break beautiful young girl’s hearts, I don’t lie, I don’t cheat, I’ll be there when you need me, I will listen, I will hold you, I will wipe off your tears, I will make the most passionate love to you, I will kiss you, I will tell you that I love you, I will hold your hands when you want me to without you having to tell me, I will let you watch your soaps, I will surpass your expectations, that is why I hide! I hide to protect you from a heartache, please wait ‘til your turn comes, if it comes. I beg of you to be patient, I hate to see you waste your love on dudes who don’t deserve it!

I’m immortal, I will always be here. My heart is unbreakable, I’ll be exactly who you want me to be. I’m tall and dark, I’m handsome. I have brown eyes and a long nose. I work out so I have a cute six pack and huge biceps (and you know what else). I’m black, and Latino. I’m short. I’m intelligent; I have a fat bank account. I’m white and I have green eyes. I’m funny; I can have you giggling like a pig! I’m Chris Rock, I’m Russell Peters, see? You have nothing to worry about; I will pass by your life at one time even if I don’t get to marry you. We don’t always get what we want, I was given this world but I didn’t make it. I received all your lovely letters, all of them from since you were a teen. I try to read all of them. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to reply to any of them, my boss cupid won’t let me have time for myself, always has me on an assignment, but I hope reading this helps to ease your frustration in your quest to finding me. You don’t have to search for me; I will find you, sweetheart.

Message To The Fellas: You can’t cramp my style you bastards, the sooner you learn that the better! Ask Cassanova, little punk forgot who the immortal one is. Tarnished my name the most, look where he’s at now! What’s wrong, you can’t come up with your own swag? Using your name, ain’t your name good enough? I’m only proud of one man so far- Romeo! He’s the one I’d wish to be. Taking his life for love, so deep! I witnessed it with my own eyes. Michael Jackson stole my line- I’m not a fighter I’m a lover. He went ahead to shamelessly make it a song! Look, I don’t mean to be harsh on you. I’m just saying get your own act! Phew. My shrink was right; I feel better having let it all out!

Friday, April 23, 2010


It’s never my intention to either directly or indirectly reveal the nature of my character in this blog but sometimes it just doesn’t seem like such a big deal. This is one of those times and as I’m writing this I’m hearing a voice in my head echoing the words- write now, regret later. That doesn’t make sense to me now but let’s give it time and see if I will comprehend the meaning. Hear from you later, voice, I’m getting down to writing it!

If I haven’t mentioned it on this blog before then it done took me a long time to announce it to you that I used to have a bad temper, but thank God it’s in the past now although Brenda doesn’t want to believe that. As skinny as I am it was only for my own good that I took care of my always very justified but exaggerated anger. My poor sister (not Emily, the other one- Norah) did fall victim of my wrath one too many times during the time when I used to get attacked with those spells of uncontrollable anger. Please note that this was a fairly long time ago, back when I was a teenager, so please don’t judge. That was that. Oh, you wonder who Brenda is? I know who she is but it’s complicated who she is to me, you understand? That’s another story.

Now, a little advice to sinners out there, I’m sure that pretty much covers everyone. I, having gone through and tried a variety of vices, can confidently tell you that you can posses any number of them you want but please be sure that once you have chosen to have bad-temperedness then skip impatience and vice-versa (ha ha, VICE-versa, these words have a way of coming back to me). Bad-temperedness is even too strong a word, let’s just say anger. It’s funny, I can patiently wait four years until I graduate, I somehow can patiently wait until when I make my first million, I can even patiently wait for Friday to come but I CANNOT patiently wait queuing to be served in a bank! My mom sent me to pay the electricity bill one day, I went back home with the money because the queue was too long, little did I know that that very day was the deadline. Mom had to go back and make the payment by herself :( ! I am not proud of that, mom was so mad she refused to even let me go back for her. So if you want to meet me somewhere, don’t keep me waiting for too long or you will be more than disappointed. This leads me to what happened yesterday, which is sadly something that has happened with me several times before. A case of same script, different cast but same star- me.

See, I’m impatient like that. Remember that female from the bus? Let’s name her Mary. She turned out to be a very interesting person. It made me think that sometimes we are just uptight for nothing; good things do sometimes happen outside the boundary of our principles, like in this case talking to strangers and even calling them on the phone. This may be true but don't take my word for it, I will not be responsible for any loss or damage you incur for taking heed to my word. Please, do this at your own risk. Anyway, the only time I have free during weekdays is home time- time when I go home in the evenings; she had been out of town all week, she came back yesterday so we planned to meet… at home-time o’clock. I do my routine and the time comes, I make that call and she no go pick her phone oh! I de try again ten minutes later and still nothing, anoda ten minutes and still notsing! Then the fourth time she picks up. I try to talk but she just won’t quit saying “halloooo?” Then she puts me on hold. I hang up and call again; I make sure she hears me clearly so I ask “Can you hear me clearly?” She says yes. Then I’m put on hold. ****! I had been waiting for about twenty minutes and she puts me on hold? Furious! I send a text to deny her any excuses like- I couldn’t hear you. This is how it read exactly,

Screw it, am tryna ask u wea u at!

If this blog post were a video and these texts were the words of a narrator I’d freeze this part and zoom in on the text to give it a dramatic effect. That right there, that I call anger, very much justified if you ask me. But it was dangerously mixed with impatience, threatening to create imbalance in the mentality of a young man as me (I’m not sure what this means). An impatience that tells you there can’t be any credible explanation for what happened. An impatience that tells you are right and they are wrong and time spent to listen to any more of that crap is a waste of precious time! When you are annoyed and impatient to know the reason behind everything, you might end up losing many good things because when you are patient you just might understand that you are being silly.

What went down after that is irrelevant for I feel that I have accomplished the mission of demonstrating what a little anger and impatience can do to you. Moral of the story is that either you be angry or be impatient, never both. Get angry but wait ‘til she arrives or leave but don’t get angry. I choose to be impatient; it doesn’t take too much of your energy that one. Well, I try, even though sometimes I do get carried away.

For the curious lot: I will always cater for your needs; you know I will never let you down! Mary and I did not eventually meet, I was too impatient to wait and she was too mad to call. Note, we’d known each other just about four days at the time when I sent her that text. I promptly and sincerely apologized. I think it is important to also note that she is the one who called way later to protest about the text. It didn’t make her happy to say the least.

NB: Mimicking how Nigerians speak does NOT by any means imply that I watch Nigerian movies or that I’m associated with any Nigerian(s).

Sunday, April 18, 2010


I’m not sure if it applies to everyone but as far as I am concerned I can cheat the world but I can’t cheat myself. I used to be my own worst critic but that didn’t prove healthy so I gradually evolved into my own biggest challenger. Not quite a different thing but much more fun for me, if I overcome the challenges that is. I’m going to attempt to elaborate.

I’ll begin with FIFA, my all time favourite computer game. This should be on Ripley’s because believe it or not that game has the fundamentals of living a fulfilling life embedded in it! Playing the manager mode, FIFA teaches you to bank on the future, stick with old players and it won’t be long before you are left with either no players or a bankrupt club. Similarly, (and now I’m about to reveal the superficial me), whenever I see a woman, the pretty one mostly (‘pretty’ here refers to the whole package as far as physical eyes can see), my brain, upon my request generates probable images of how she would look like after her first child and again after her second… and perhaps another for after her third child if the images are still bearable to envision. This helps me to estimate the ‘use before’ date of a woman’s prettiness given the circumstance of pregnancy or pregnancies. Don’t you dare sneer because I’m serious. It’s all about peeping into the future. There are many other FIFA principles that can be applied in real life, but that is another post. All this, although irrelevant in the context of this post is quite significant to mention. What is relevant though is that playing as Arsenal on FIFA 2010 (never have I played as any other team), I have never won the Champion’s League. It sickens me! And you know how it takes days before you complete a season. I won once but I had to retake the semi-final match and that doesn’t count to me. I didn’t feel anything because I cheated the software, but not me.

I’m always challenging myself, sometimes, as I have come to realize, unnecessarily. For instance, I visited chiira’s blog and he makes description of places in Nairobi on this post. To date, it bugs me that I can’t figure out a single location but I wouldn’t ask or let anyone tell me because yes, it would equate to cheating! You know that game Spider Solitaire? It does have the option of checking for possible moves you could make, guess who doesn’t use that? You got it- ME! And sometimes I set a time limit for myself within which I should complete the game. If the time limit ends before I finish, I start afresh. Did I mention that I only play the difficult level?

This, my blog friends, may seem a harmless habit but not when applied in life and death situations, because that is what I unknowingly did over time until God showed it to me. It came to me in a flash, it couldn’t be any more vivid. This happened moments ago from when I’m writing this. Brethren, like everyone else I have my own demons to fight, I have my own flaws, I have my own weaknesses. When it came to matters of sin, it was etched in my subconscious mind that to truly surmount sin you should face it. That if you are struggling with adultery, bring home a whore and dare not to touch her. If you have trouble with porn, buy tons of it yet don’t use it! To me that would have been true victory over sin as opposed to running away from it by eliminating it from your life and pretending it didn’t exist! I was wrong, or maybe I was not but it’s putting excessive load on yourself. It’s unnecessary, but if you can do that then you are better off. I’ve been playing with fire, sin is nothing to challenge yourself with. I can’t remember praying to God to let Him help me with my battle against sin. My attitude was “it’s okay, God, I’ll do this!” because in my mind if God helped it would have been cheating! As much as I wanted to please God and say “look, no hands!”, I have learned today that it’s okay to let Him hold me to prevent me from falling.

So dear God I have a sin problem I can’t overcome on my own, please help me. If I should cheat sin or whatever then so be it. No more self-induced challenges.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


I have two sisters and one brother, we are balanced in our family, in every way you look at it... we came in the order of boy, girl, boy then girl again. My favourite of my siblings is the littlest of us all, so when they closed school for the holidays I was very excited (my dad decided to take her to a boarding school this year, something I silently disapprove- she's turning eleven in two days!) and looked forward to seeing her. Three months seemed like ages. When mom goes to visit her during visiting days, they must call and I would talk to her and the first thing she'd ask is why I hadn't gone... laziness :(. Well, I love that kid. And now I realize I should have made the title of this post Emily Matters, for I see this being purely about her.

Anyway, I kept wondering how big she'd grown, would she be taller than me now? (Oh, she's tall for a ten year old I think). Did them boobs pop up yet? She walked through the door with my other sister who had gone to pick her up and I wasn't far off, she's grown. But she's still flat around the upper abdomen part :). People do have a problem with the way I usually talk about my female family members, I hope you don't. I remember when a female cousin came over to visit us for a few days one time. I started talking about how cute she was with my friends and  I was told I was not supposed to say that due to the fact that we are family. I don't know, it's not like I want to have sex with her!! I'm just pointing out an obvious fact.

Speaking of sex. But wait. I need to sadly tell you that Emily didn't do well in her end term exams. No, she did pretty bad! I guess boarding school doesn't mean better grades. And my dad, yes he's concerned but I'm surprised he's not making the noise he used to during my time. I used to do fairly well but it was never enough! What, did he lose his voice?! Okay. Okay. Having said all that I can now bring in the sex part. I have been volunteering to offer Emily home tutoring when I get the time. She came home with sample test papers from her school which we would go through together after a little lesson. Now these science papers are filled with so many reproduction questions with a penis diagram here and a vagina there, talk of sperms here and ova there (ova there?), what's a brother to do? I did what I had to do, I provided a little sex education and funny enough she felt most uncomfortable. For some reason my favourite part was the part where I explained to her what menstruation was. I must admit I was a bit (a bit) uncomfortable too so I kept it strictly formal. Sometimes I just feel I'm the wrong person to be teaching her these stuff, where are the parents at?! But she knows these things. Going through the female reproductive parts, I asked her what the uterus is. She said its where the baby grows... I was proud :)

And my thirteen year old brother, the quiet type, still sucks his thumb, you can find him doing it 90% of the time. I let him play Fifa on my laptop the other day (I know, these 'other days' have become one too many) and he missed to score by an inch and he went "fuck!". What can I say, he just might have picked it from me. As much as parenting is tough, parents you need to be involved in almost every part of your kid's life! The woes of being a first born... you become a parent before your time.

Monday, April 12, 2010


I'm breaking records in my life, let's begin with the rather conceivable ones. Today, okay it's past midnight so I really mean to say yesterday, was the day that went down in history as the day I spotted the highest number of expectant women around town! Wasn't an unusual thing in the college I went to... hell, half the people we shared a room with became accidental dads (2/4), but for some reason the same scenario on the streets of Nairobi alarms me. From the looks of it, the state of the economy done not depress any progress in that department :)

Nowadays I can smell an expectant woman from twenty miles away and I can pinpoint just exactly when this ability began to develop inside me. I was eighteen years old (them good ol' days) and very naïve, or maybe not... depending on how you look at it, sometimes emotions can cloud your judgment. Then there lived a beautiful female that I got so strongly attracted to, let's give her an innocent name as Mary. We were in the same class for a short course in a certain institution, she was my neighbor too so we walked home together everyday, making my moves on her slowly but surely. In my head I remember saying, "She's okay except for that potbelly, but that we can fix"

So one morning when the boys in class gather up during recess to talk, Mary's name pops up. Nobody knew my intentions with her, about how I fantasized about her every night. It is my principle to not reveal the prey to friends until the prey becomes a victim. Them boys hated on her, and to pretend I was on their side I innocently added, "And I don't think she's even serious with life, seen how she keeps leaving the classroom all the time?" Then one of them blatantly tells me "That's because she's pregnant!" I still stared at the young man with a blank face waiting for further explanation for I still couldn't see the connection- morning sickness! Long story short, I now can identify a two day pregnant woman if I hang around her long enough. True story! And to the curious lot, no I did not proceed with my quest.

Last week, a rather uncanny series of events occurred in my life. Never happened before in the history of my life. I hop into a bus and sit next to this good-looking chic on my way home. Describing her as just good-looking seems a description so inadequate but I'm going to fight the urge of wanting to describe her any further than that to protect her privacy... or whatever. Yes, so I thought she was cute, she alighted at her stop, that's right before mine and I alighted at mine and went home. Following day, around the same time, I arrive at the bus stop, I get into a bus to go home, I look for an empty spot near the window which leads me all the way to the very back seat. Ten seconds later, I see the same chic coming and sitting next to me! I don't know about you out there but I have never sat next to the same stranger in a bus in two consecutive days, in this case nights. As soon as she sat down these are the exact words that I said to her "What are the odds? We were together yesterday!" She smiled and pretended to recall, then she said yes. And the rest is history. Lets just say that that was not the last time we saw each other.

In other news, from my impossible thoughts; as I was conversing with myself today yesterday walking home from the bus stop, I was struck by a thought I have never thought up before. I can't remember what I was talking about but it all started when I told myself that I'm only but human, insinuating that I am not perfect. Then I thought, if indeed it is in the nature of man to be imperfect then why does God expect perfection from us, we all fall short but that's what He would want from us. God's initial intention was for man to be perfect and sinless but man chose a different path. Again Jesus was human in nature when He was on earth, he experienced everything we do as human beings; pain, emotions, hunger and so on, yet He was perfect. Conclusion: we are not imperfect because we are human, its because we allow ourselves to slip. We are not weak, we are powerful! And it's the misuse of this power that proves detrimental to ourselves. Believe it, true story!

Bonus: Again last week, I listened to an English stammerer being interviewed on BBC radio. Never had I heard anyone stammer in English before. It was kind of hilarious!!! TRUE STORY.

NB: For those who thought I forgot, I did not. Part 2 of Strange Strangers is coming soon. Seems I have my mojo back, so I'm holding it back a little :)

Saturday, April 10, 2010


I must declare it already, if you most beloved readers don't already know, that most of what I write in this blog (at least the ones that make the most sense), is inspired by other blog posts and this one here is not an exception. Too sad I can't exactly remember which one of the fairly numerous blogs I bother to visit did inspire this post but it certainly left bits of unfinished thoughts (because nothing in my head is ever resolved) etched in my mind and I have been meaning to put this down on paper print ever since then, about a month ago. So here it is;

The blogger in question was doing what we bloggers characteristically like to do- rant, yap, blubber, argue and "talk" about something with a passion that overwhelmingly supersedes the importance of the issue, yes that's us. If you write a blog, you know you are guilty. Pardon me, I'm getting sidetracked from the story. The blogger who was female (I'm not sure how this fact will help build the story) was complaining talking about how some common questions which people are so known to pose to each other are just nothing less than pathetic! Questions like, what's your favourite book or movie or colour? The argument was, why should anyone confine themselves to liking just a single colour? Fact is, she didn't know what her favourite colour was, she likes many colours and can't get herself to choosing just one! Plus, the answer varies at different times. Another one, if you were stuck in a desert... you know the rest of it. But the one that this post is mostly based on is the question; if you knew you had 24 hours to live, what would you do before you died. Her, she'd probably do the same thing she did the day before.

On that note, I feel the need to point out that I don't know what it means to live life to the fullest. So just when I begin to think that I might be living a boring life I tell myself, boring is the only fun I know. I like it this way and I wouldn't change it. At this point it wouldn't take a genius to tell that I probably would do the same thing the lady blogger would do if I had 24 hours to live, but a more accurate answer would be- I don't know what I'd do. My favourite quote right now (how ironic) is one that goes; if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. I'm sorry but in every argument I tend to end up at destination God, to some people that may be lame.

Sometimes I think we live too fast, its like a race. I should be married by now, all my friends already are. I should drink my ass stupid now, while I'm still young. Hell, where is the next party at? So we run around doing things because we compare our lives with that of others. We all want to go crazy and live to the fullest when in reality, when you live your life- that's when you are living to the fullest. If you are a party animal, get to dine with kings, eat your meals in different countries in a day and that's just your life, meaning it doesn't go against who you really are, then my take is that you are living your life full.

Sometimes when people talk about living to the fullest I get the impression that they take it to mean doing the things you don't to do on regular basis. Trying out everything to avoid missing out on anything or doing things just because you can to find out what it would feel like. From crazy stuff like dyeing your hair blue, or getting to the roof top of Times Tower and peeing from up there (men only) to simple and more acceptable things like camping and smelling flowers, literally. If it was upon me to define what living full means, I would define it as simply being true to who you are by doing things a you would actually do and being happy with that, period. No questions please. So if I had only 24 hours to live, whatever I do I'd make sure I enjoy every second of it, even if it's to just sit dumb and have a very exhilarating conversation with myself, which is something a Wyndago would do any day and come out as happy as Kanye with a VMA plaque.

NB: My apologies for not having posted anything for such a long time, especially to you lulu :-)

Sunday, March 14, 2010


So I installed coldfision for all IIS webservers, not the in-built servers. I'm running ISS7 on my computer and that is what I am using. The installation and configuration went smoothly until when I started administrator to complete the whole process, it gives the error messsage as in the printscreen below. On starting the webserver configuration tool does not start as well on clicking on it, instead it gives the error shown below.
Here are a few things I have done to correct this but in vain.

1. I have made sure that the folder CFIDE with the correct files are in the webserver ie C:/inetpub/wwwroot
2. The default address in the browser upon clicking administrator is I tried changing it to http://my_computer_name/CFIDE/administrator/index.cfm but still I get the same error message. I even tried http://my_computer_name:8500/CFIDE/administrator/index.cfm
3. I have made sure that I have enabled ISAPI extensions and IIS Metabase & IIS6 configuration compatibitlity from windows features

The error message says -

HTTP Error 404.3 - Not Found

The page you are requesting cannot be served because of the extension configuration. If the page is a script, add a handler. If the file should be downloaded, add a MIME map.

On Starting Web server configuration tool, the screen shows as the image below and the error message reads "The procedure entry point_JVM_GetClassAccessFlags@8 could not be located in the dynamic link library jvm.dll"

Saturday, February 27, 2010


Ladies and gentlemen, my twitter account has been hacked and stolen from me! I can't login with my password, its been changed. Its a horrible feeling, i tell you. So if you see Wyndago on twitter it won't be me... sucks!

Thursday, February 18, 2010


In Nairobi, that's arguably everyone you don't know, but strange is normal, sometimes too much caution is what gets you killed, or kills someone else. Like when a stranger on the streets approaches with a long story about how he's lost and needs money to get back home before dusk because his mother who is sick needs him but your instincts tell you the desperate idiot brother is nothing but a cheap conman, you know there is a chance that it might be true? What if its true? The poor mother is going to die! Anyway, normal strangers, that's scary. I mean those who treat you like they would treat a person they knew? Perhaps it's just me.

This guy at the matatu stage made gestures and yelled out something that I wasn't trying to hear, I turned to his direction and he looked at me straight in the eye and he says something again so I put my index finger on my chest to be sure if he was talking to me and as a matter of fact he was, he asked "Nairobi?" Yes, Nairobi. I was traveling from Thika. I personally don't like it when those boys decide for me which matatu I'll be traveling in but for some reason I followed this one meandering in between other matatus until we reached to the vehicle that was supposedly going to take me to Nairobi. It was cheaper and more comfortable, I hopped in and suddenly I wasn't comfortable, what was I doing in a personal car?! For all I know this could end up being a case of abduction and people are going to read about it in the Newspapers and hear newscasters read the news about me... I started to get nervous and resorted to asking too many questions like where exactly will you drop me... but the driver, noticing my discomfort, assured me he I'd be fine. Then I remembered this story of kidnappers. I started having this conversation with myself in my head.

"Well, it's me. God always takes care of me"

"Are you testing God now, putting yourself in potential danger and expecting him to rescue you?"

"But this is not putting myself in danger, I'm simply trying to go home"

"What if something happens to you, like if this driver drives crazy and you crash somewhere. Paps will wonder what the hell got you into a stranger's car!"

"Okay then, I'll buckle up"

But on my seat there was no seat belt.

"That's an excuse, it's not my fault"

"Are you serious?"

"I need to get this thought out of my head"

I looked over at the passenger seat and in the front and there was a woman, so I stayed. He was with a woman, which means he hadn't planned anything evil if he had brought a woman. That was my take. another random burly guy was led to the car by the same guy who brought me, that made me relaxed.

So we began our journey, two strangers in the back and another couple in the front. The driver thought he needed pressure on one of the car tyres. Apparently he didn't know Thika well, but our burly guy did. He helped a big deal, he sounded like he'd driven in Thika for a long time, he knew all the Petrol stations and at exactly what spot the pressure pipes were, if that's what they are called. By now, I was convinced that everything happened for a reason and that that guy was with us for a reason.

Then the strangest thing among strangers happened. We They started talking. And then...

"My names is Moses", began the driver, "...and I am born again"

"I am Doctor Jemmima, I am born again and I love Jesus", said the woman whom I later learned that she teaches Sunday school to little kids at her church.

I can't remember the burly guy's name but he was born again too!

"And what about our brother?", asked the driver

"They call me Wyndago, and umm... *stutter* I'm born again"

I don't know why I wasn't confident in saying so but that is another story.

What an evening. In this era, what are the odds of four (or three) born-again people finding themselves alone anywhere? I reckon they are pretty close to nil. I said Halleluhya but I might have said it too soon.

We had arrived in Nairobi, the burly had alighted in the famous Githurai so it was the three of us, when we found a very horrific traffic jam. Matatus started misbehaving, yes they did (we're used to that), trying to fit into smallest of spaces and they always fit and get through. On second thought, they but sometimes fit because this time one of them brushed on Moses' side mirror. This made the man of God angry and he began shouting at the matatu driver. Then to both mine and Dr. Jemima's surprise, our Moses applied hand break and stepped out of the car, ignoring Dr. jemima's pleas to just ignore the matatu driver. Right then I wondered what happened to Jesus. So now what was the purpose of that happening? I felt like I was at a drive-in, watching a movie through the windscreen. Jemima was so embarassed!

That is when these strangers became perfect to me, by their own imperfections. But I'm heeding my mother's advice of not speaking to strangers let alone get into their cars next time. You don't want to know what happened next.

Friday, February 12, 2010


I had a roommate in college who liked the room pitch-black when it was time for him to sleep, he'd force me to bed early. Everybody went to bed early except me, I was up mumbling a bunch of dumb words to keep them entertained so I wont be left all alone sleepless thinking to myself in the dark why the heck she can't love me, but they came to realize it was a trick and always promptly prohibited me from speaking when that time reached. One after the other they would all say 'Wyndago, shut up and go to sleep!' And when I grabbed my phone to at least tweet, the pitch-black crazed roommate complained about the light! Please! I thought, am I in prison? Every night it was the same story, to kill the boredom loneliness I'd walk up and down the room and soon as I begun one of them would go, 'and thus commences the daily ritual...' I miss those guys.

So anyway, Tony, the roommate who was obsessed with darkness, was one day covering all the ventilators and spaces that may allow light to pass through with newspapers. That glass thingy above the door was however proving a menace to wrap up, I think the cello-tape he was using was the problem but he didn't seem to relent. I was watching him closely with so much awe, then I told him. That thing is not going to work you're wasting your time! Tony got mad. Okay, perhaps I said much more than that and with the wrong tone... but he got mad. Then I had to pull back. I said; Tony, you're my friend, I love you no, that's gay. I said; I'm just trying to help you by telling you the truth, this is positive criticism. And I was pretty well answered, that if I wanted to be helpful I should have been up there with him taping old Newspapers on a glass window. Fair. But I didn't like the idea of a dark room anyway.

I don't know what it is but I will criticize. I won't be one of those friends who let their so-called friends go make a fool of themselves before a multitude of people believing they have something going on when they certainly don't. That's the price you pay when you become my friend. That is why I would greatly appreciate it to be told if you had a problem with me. Which brings me to Jason, my other former college roommate. This guy kept grudges, not for long but he held on to them instead of confronting the beef. He'd give you the silent treatment, to find out the cause or to just make sure it isn't you run to facebook ASAP! It will be there.

'Stupid idiot, I'm not your momma! You came here alone..'

That will be your first clue, you wouldn't need to be Mr Holmes to figure out the rest. Oh, and I haven't yet watched that movie... but I digress. See, I remember another incident when I accidentally spilled tea on Jason's bed, people just didn't understand the 'accidentally' part mostly because I did not realize it until I had to be told hours later what I had done! What I expected from Jason was, 'you son of a bitch, I'm going to kill ya!' because everyone I met looked at me funny saying Jason was yearning for my blood. I'm narrating the story now which means I'm alive. If I were Jason I probably would have just laughed it off, I'm easy like that. And that is sometimes a problem.

I have come to learn though, that sometimes it's better to keep ones mouth shut.Sometime back I wanted to have my 15 seconds minutes of fame and decided to go for a certain audition which I had told not a single soul about until now. I thought then that if I kept it to myself, it wouldn't be so embarrassing and upsetting if I wasn't successful. How wrong was I! Now, I wish I'd told someone so they could stop me. I was awful. To tell someone they suck at something they think they are exceptionally good at is so hurtful, regardless who is there or who says it. It bites you inside. It shouldn't be that bad if a friend told you though, I suppose. So for me, if you're my friend, tell me. Friends only, please... to avoid misdemeanors.

In other news; I'm told it's Valentine's already?

Monday, February 1, 2010


Depressed because they said he'd be next, he stood there and watched as they laid her to rest; it's too big a risk to bet especially when the price would be to be confined to a bed. As low as you get, sometimes it's best to still stay abreast of current affairs; its not '89 anymore, a whisper said in his head- people use rubber in this age. Once infected how does one turn over a new page? A carrier now so they kept him at bay. The whole saga caused him too much of pain. He yearned for his grave, his sweetheart was gone and he was too sad to pray, too upset to wail. Two parts deceit, one part of pain, that's what he sensed... that's what he felt.

His queen's name was Lynne, his princess' was Flo', short form for Florence, one girl he was fond of. Imprisoned in their fortress now things seemed so bleak, both of them couldn't sleep at night. Flo being nine she knew well mummy wasn't coming back, probably scared that daddy too was on his way. Girly has ears she heard them what they said. Perhaps that's what kept her awake. Daddy doesn't care now like he used to, when he yelled at mom when she was still here. "Go to your room, little lady!", his voice instilled fear. Now he's just there, and with his current rate he'll end up saying nine words in this whole year! But he is a fine man, she understood. A fine Daddy he is too. She was just scared, but so was Daddy.

There wasn't any noise in the house contrary to how it was before, not because they were that happy and all- no. They used to shout at each other in the morning, him and Lynne while Flo would sing aloud in the shower, her little way of escaping to live in her own world. Now there were just two people wallowing in sorrow and one of them drowning in thoughts. One of his reasons for lack of sleep were the constant memories that that bed brought back, the dreams were of Lynne's; sometimes of how they used to kiss but of also how she was a cheat! That bed is bewitched! He wouldn't even dare to blink. You see, they fought but he loved his chic like Buster sings, even their sweet daughter didn't comprehend their thing, a precocious kid, she understood too much but not this.

How could she have brought Kimberly, who's commonly known as Kim to the place that he considered sacredly his? Boundaries were crossed when he crawled over his King size bed and proceeded to devour that sweet thing with his sick thing deep in hers, sheets were soiled, so he can't again lie in that sick spot ever since she confessed in her death bed in the hospital ward. It's things like that that take you back to square one and you begin to ask yourself what the hell is this thing called love. Truth is he was guilty too but he didn't get caught. Yes, there was Eunice but she had clean blood, not a sickle-celled, anemic, asthmatic fat dude whose heart periodically failed. Not like Kim! But his love was with Lynne, he saved that for his bed, A bed that had been intruded all this time. She broke the code, right there in their home.

How does one make the deceased pay for their sins? For the disease ceases to affect the dead and the alive are advised to repent, does it seem fair? Dan hates to hear she said he said unless she said that he does it well in his bed, which only made him run to his wife bragging and spelling out his full name. All that's left now is that special bed in which the magic happened, but it's just not that special anymore and will be destroyed. Forgiveness he is not sure about, but he can't wait to crossover and regain his bitter/sweet love, whatever that is, and sleep together in a new, clean bed.

Monday, January 25, 2010


The new bed finally was delivered, its size she hadn’t considered, well it did not matter to her, hell as long as it wouldn’t hurt her, like he did, that idiot! The house has been peaceful, the bed less sinful, her life now taking swing in full She’s no longer that fool, so long her pool, she moved houses too, it wasn’t gonna haunt her, and anyway she had to flaunt her guts, just no one knows how deep down it hurts. See, down her heart, it flows deep: the love she had for him…………

Truth be said, she’s lonely, sometimes only wishing she choose truce instead, well so much for the good times . Now reality checks, she’s alone, her chastity breaks, you can’t blame her, the nights have since been so cold, so lame, her former knight now so gone, her loner plights now a trait!

He depreciated from her world, to her ex husband, word is she appreciated the sex and his hand, always had a way of unhooking that bra, touching the right places, during “sexcapades”, caressing, undressing, kissing, sexing, adoring her in ALL WAYS!! She passionately remembers how she rode on him, like a stallion, in his book she a star y’all J so steadily was her pace, December she was completely in his mode.

A real bad habit is how she picked him up, an acrobatic is how she flipped her up, the other man in her new bed, never knew, never will. To her, he doesn’t even come close, just another brother she’s seen to use, abuse, disregard and discard. Since the divorce, she’s been in remorse! Signing those papers wasn’t easy, but hard, even tricky but now done! She’s now residing where the haters would call, “greener pastures” what no one knows is that, she’s now deciding who to call, maybe her, “inner monsters?”

It’s 1st March, exactly three months after the separation, he marched on so fast, now free to misbehave, no more deportation. Not form his country but from her territory, he’s seen need to emancipate as well, more like a clean start, you know like purgatory! She knows that she’s supposed to have moved on but suppose she can’t get her groove on with anyone else? Even worse, she’s late, she’s PREGNANT!

Note: Written by sweet Anyiko, since part one was published here, it was only right to complete what was already started.

Saturday, January 23, 2010


‘Thou shall love your neighbour as you love yourself’ is, perhaps understandably, not the easiest commandment to keep especially if your neighbour is a pain in the… neck. So is it too much to ask of a person- to love unconditionally?

Before I can go any further I feel the need to clarify one thing which forms the basis of most of my arguments anywhere anytime, something which you may or may not agree with but hopefully it would make me better understood, but to not necessarily make you agree with me. As much as the world that we are living in is imperfect in every way, I still believe in perfectness (for lack of a better word) and the reality of it being achievable. Pure and perfect world peace, for example, is proclaimed impossible. I understand, but pure goodness does exist even if we have never ever experienced it or even heard of it. I believe in the absolute impossible in our world as we know it, which I refer to as perfect goodness.
That having been said- a truth that I’m not willing to give up, let us together explore the truth about love- pure, unconditional love. In this case for our neighbours, yes it has never been seen among men perhaps but it is there somewhere and the least we can do is try to find it and own it within ourselves and not allow anything or anyone to tamper with it. By keeping love in our hearts it will help keep us within the boundaries of the wider law which is responsible for our existence.

For example when the Muslims took to the streets and caused chaos that led to huge losses in the city of Nairobi not so long ago, Kenyans were peeved by the incident, and rightfully so. Anger is allowed, but to whom or what is the anger channeled? To the Muslims, those ungrateful Somali scumbags whom we allowed to live in our country and forgot, now they think they are equal citizens, them? How do you love such people? The only thing that is deservedly left for them is nothing less than hate, not just for those who participated in the riot but the whole bunch of them! Hate all of them, how can we tell the difference anyway? They are all Somali Muslims! Is that it? Anger is rapidly transformed to hate and before you know it the whole thing becomes personalized and people become profiled and a ‘wanted’ tag is hang on their neck. It’s so easy to become inebriated with these strong and turbulent emotions that subsequently lead us to holler abusive statements. At this point the initial wrong deed is forgotten and a specific group of people becomes a target as soon as they are labeled as the bad guys. This is by no means trying to redeem those Muslims or to imply that what they did was right or to accumulate sympathy for them. It’s to merely suggest that emotions should not be misunderstood or be exaggerated into something else, and especially not hate.

If anyone knows the slightest thing about perfectness and the whole story of purity, then he knows God and is very close to Him. And God himself gets annoyed with us sometimes if not all the time (because we sin all the time), does that make Him look at the individual wrongdoer differently? Does it make Him hate that person? I think not. So why not hate the evil deed and love the wrongdoer, is that reasonable? Just so we can be like God? When Jesus was in that church whipping the fear out of a crowd that had turned his Father’s house into a market place, kicking all their goods around, He did not at anytime think- I hate these people! But I know the response that this argument may fetch, let God be God and man be man, its hard enough being human as it is. There is no time to worry about such stuff, life is too short. We will all die and find out all the secrets of life after all.

Martin Luther King was a very extraordinary man, I think he believed in that state of pure goodness to be the ardent preacher of peace and pacifism that he was. He preached love and was himself confused I think, when he asked himself how anyone could find it in his human heart to love the white racist oppressors of their time. Many people found his call for love and peace as a counter for hatred directed to black people in America by racists as impractical and unreasonable. That ‘stupid’ belief that everything will fix itself one day by the power of that unconditional love, is what I’m talking about. That belief in that pure love and pure goodness has power over evil of any magnitude, that belief that would make people look at you and wished you came back to reality for your own good. But even in this belief one has to acknowledge that this world is imperfect and will never be perfect and neither will any of us, at least not in this life but it is not at all hopeless or naïve to believe that goodness will prevail over evil, this goodness powered by that pure love, that pure unconditional love. The idea behind it all is to mimic God, because He is pure and good.

So it is upon us all to practice that love and protect it from being distorted by our own judgment and
reasoning and emotions such as anger and pain. Injustices are going to be committed against us and we are not constrained into not seeking justice. Justice is good so it shall be granted to us and it shall prevail. There is nothing evil that shall ever conceive any lasting good. And in the final hour, it is goodness that shall emerge triumphant over evil. That’s just what love does, it brings forth goodness.

Thursday, January 21, 2010


I should stop doing this, I’ve been holding this fake smile for so long I can feel my facial muscles aching. I must look ridiculous right now, like a stupid clown who’s accidentally stepped on a live wire with the expression on his face looking like he just died! Okay, I’m relaxed now, this thing is like reflex I can’t remember how I came to having that static smile on my otherwise handsome face. From now on I’m going to be real enough, at least to my self, to not fake anything. If it’s not funny then its not funny. Life couldn’t be any more unfairer, how is it that there only two groups of people who have the most nothings to talk about- boring people and people with bad breath. Now I’m stuck here watching him go on and on but little does he know…

Which brings me to my other point, how doesn’t he know? I’m yawning after every two seconds yet I’m neither hungry nor sleepy, it’s my only display of body language that is authentic which naturally means it’s easy to see that it’s overwhelming me. I’m even trying to suppress it because I’m afraid having my mouth that wide and that frequently may lead to un-wanted foreign objects down my throat! I am not paying attention, can’t you see? How mild can I put this, if boredom were music, you’d be the best artist of all time, right there at the top. Can’t even make out what all the fidgeting I have been doing denotes, how the hell does this guy interact with them females?! Everyone knows them ladies don’t speak any other language better than they do body language. The clown must be single.
If he goes ahead to narrate another one of those movies or TV shows I am going to hold my breath until I drop dead. He’s not running his mouth now. He’s stopped. There it is, that awkward silence before another story sets in. The trick is to not say a word to avoid giving him a reason to keep going.

“And have you watched 2012?”

Should I answer this? Perhaps he’ll let it go if I just look at him and play deaf.

“Have you?”

Oookay, he won’t let it go. I guess that won’t work.


“Yeah, at the beginning it starts when this guy takes his kids camping…

I thought I just said I’ve watched that movie? I should just brace myself because that movie was looong, and seeing that he’s got a passion for detail it seems like I’m in for a very long ride. I could just stand up and walk away right now but we’re in my room. And what type of uncle would I be if I gave in to the urge of screaming the words “Get the hell outta my face!” to him, look at him. I’m just thankful he’s not my conscience, so I can still have real conversations with myself… in my head, like now. Yawn alert, suppress! Suppress! Oh, how else will he get the hint just let it. Oh, my. Where were we? Wait, where’s my phone I should check my Facebook inbox.

What is he laughing? Okay, I’ll let out a chuckle. Where is that damn phone, I need to keep my hands busy. I know Talliah has sent me something in my inbox anyway, I love that chic. Yawn, cover mouth! I must look like an Orang’-utan as I’m yawning. I’m getting tired, he’s sucking the energy out of me! Found you baby phone, come here.

Before I log in to Facebook and subsequently Twitter, lets fake a face that suggests attentiveness. Wow, he likes that yet what I’m wondering is how did he get that pimple on his cheek to become that big and red? He’s giving me a smile I think he’s going to tell a joke, giggle. Damn, by the look in his face I must have laughed a little too soon. And there goes the first truly funny thing, ha-ha. Look at his face now, he makes me laugh some more… Sis to my rescue, she delivers a message that mom wants nephew for something. Phew, now onto Facebook. This young man, but he’s okay he’s family.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010


According to this article (unfortunately, the link is currently unavailable) by Naomi Dunford titled why we’re broke and how to fix it which I found through this very resourceful blog, the modern human being seems to delegate more and more of his every day activities that are essential in sustaining a nourished existence to other specialist human beings. The modern man will rely on another man to grow his food, sew his garments, fix the roof of his house and so on contrary to the ancient man who did almost everything by himself. A modern man in turn specializes in another thing which he also does on the behalf of his fellow human beings. This makes the average human being of today extremely reliant on his mates and this, according to the earlier mentioned article, is what makes people broke today.

The idea may seem a little radical and unrealistic, even misguided, to most people of today’s world, primarily because it’s something we have not witnessed, possibly in our entire lives and thus do not attempt to take a shot at it because maybe the traditional way is working just fine for us or it hasn’t ever crossed our minds as a possibility. Just so I ensure we are on the same wave length, the idea I’m talking about is self-reliance in today’s human being. Imagine if you could generate your own electricity, recycle and treat your own drinking water, fix your own TV when something becomes wrong with it, wouldn’t that be something?

After reading Dunford’s article, which seemed to suggest that the way to financial freedom is through some degree of self-reliance, I appreciated the thought behind it but that’s just what it was to me until I recently watched on CNN’s Eco Solutions, where they featured an Egyptian young man in his early twenties who is taking a shot at realizing the idea. The Egyptian, who is said to have learned English from old newspapers and radio only, which is impressive in a non-English speaking country, makes his own cooking gas (two hours worth of cooking gas daily) from kitchen garbage, the by-products of that makes good manure. What’s even more fascinating is that it’s a rather simple phenomenon. In addition to that the Egyptian made himself a water heating system and a radio both of which use solar energy, all this cuts his electricity bill by half! Needless to say, he’s facing criticism in his own country from his neighbours who are not that much impressed and are skeptical about his energy saving/creation tactics. At least he is brave enough to try.

A man is not an island and we will always need one another but one thing I wish to not rely on another person is the generation of electricity. Not as long as KPLC (Kenya Power & Lighting Company) is treating us the way it is. This is something I have promised myself I would pursue, strike power bills off the utility bills list.

Currently as scientists are working day and night to come up with alternative environmentally friendly, cheap and renewable energy, biofuel has attracted significant attention. I’m mentioning biofuel here because it’s one of those things you can make at home from rotten plant material (I don’t want to bore you with technical terms). One form of biofuel is biodiesel which can be used as fuel in existing vehicles with little or no adaptation! In other words, you can make your own fuel for your car at home! It’s both simple and cheap. Give it a thought. So how self-reliant are you?

Monday, January 18, 2010


Hooray! My wish has been granted and I’m tagged once again by Rockhead to jot down what I would write in a letter to my sixteen year old self, now that boy desperately needs to hear from me. Hell, he needs to hear from someone because no one is paying attention! Rockhead I know I kind of solicited this tag from you, but God bless you for you have just saved a life.. or a future for that matter. Let’s make this happen…

Dear Me,

Dude, what’s up? I hope this letter finds you well, son. This is you from the future, I don’t have time to explain but just keep on reading, I just want to tip you on a few things and warn you on even fewer things but its for your own good. Plus you’ll love it, I know you do listen, it’s just that people don’t listen to you, right? Pardon me if the letter sounds a little too informal, well there you go, tip number one: pay attention in that English class when they teach you how to write letters. It’s a lot of crap but you’ll come to find out that you need that knowledge.

No kidding Wyndago, on a more serious note here is warning number one; that notebook you keep, boy, please hide it. Trust those instincts you’re having, mom is snooping around your room when you’re at school, she’ll find it. With all those mean things you wrote about her in it, you don’t want her to find it. Stop it, I know what you’re thinking- I’m you! You think you don’t care but wait til you see her when she confronts you with the book in her hands and tears rolling down her cheeks, that sight will stick in your head forever and all over sudden it won’t be a so-what typa thing. You need to grow up, and you will. At an incredibly faster than usual pace, I must say, but you must begin that journey now. Don’t argue with mom, she loves you. She’s wrong too but she loves you. You are going to have a nice relationship with her.

Now listen, right about now you’re thinking about leaving that girl… which girl you ask? You thought I was playing, huh? Don’t test me again, just do the reading. That long-term girlfriend of yours- Ruth. But you don’t have a reason to do it you’re just bored, so you are going to just cut communication and avoid her. Well, I’m not stopping you just go ahead but there is something you don’t realize at the moment. At around my time you two will be brought together by a rather bizarre coincidence and you will find out that she never forgot the whole thing whilst it was nothing to you. You’ll hurt her big, boy. I want to be friends with her now but she can’t, I think. Just make sure you’re willing to pay that price. Urgh, you’re you, what do you care? Go crazy.

I want to fill you in on something very important now, I want to confirm to you that the rumours are right. Mrs. Nindo, the English teacher has got AIDS! No, actually it’s HIV. Don’t wear that face now, it’s not like she’s going to die, and besides we’re all going to die. That woman is a strong woman, I know it’s a shocker to you that the grapevine is accurate because you don’t pay attention to them but it turns out it is this time. In my time, Mrs. Nindo has come out and is speaking out about the disease overtly. She was on National TV on some HIV/AIDS documentary, she was awesome. Mad respect for that woman, be extra nice in her class so that she may remember your face in my present time. Be the one to rub the board for her or something… but you’re just one timid boy, sigh.

Mister, you are a good kid… with a bad temper, get rid of the temper and just be plain good. Good news is that you will get rid of it. Boy, I’m so proud of you, you God-fearing fellow. God is going to make the best out of you, and there is no limit as to how best you can be. That is still into my future, I know because I received a letter like this one myself, from the future. Our elder brother says we do just fine.

PS: Tell Sis to not eat so much, she’s going to weigh about one two hundred pounds! You on the other hand are very sexy, incase you’re wondering.

Yours truly,

Saturday, January 16, 2010


Yesterday, after the usual Friday prayers, Muslims left Jamia mosque which is located right at the heart of Nairobi city and took to the streets to demonstrate over the detention of a Jamaican Muslim cleric who is currently held by government authorities over crimes of allegedly spreading messages of hate against non-Muslims and is said to be connected to the infamous terror group Al-Qaeda. The man who government officials say entered Kenya through the Kenya-Tanzania border is also believed to have charges awaiting him back home in Jamaica. Muslims in Kenya were not pleased with the idea of his detention and without a warning a demonstration cum riot emerged. It turned out to be one bloody affair, no really, I mean Nairobi’s central business district was turned into a small war zone. Two people lost their lives. The violence had escalated and bloomed into a Muslims Vs Christians war when other civilians joined the police in fighting the rioting Muslims, the cause for the demonstration was then quickly forgotten, or perhaps another cause was acquired and an Al Shabab flag was spotted among the protestors.

His name is Abdullah Al-Faizul, that Jamaican Sheikh. It’s such a noble thing the Muslims did though, I think, if at all they were right in doing what they did. I think it as a great gesture of love and solidarity to a fellow human being, again, if at all the Jamaican is innocent and indeed his rights were violated, since the ‘innocent’ man they were ‘fighting’ for was not even ‘one of their own’, he is from another land! And what they were concerned with was for justice to prevail and the religion of the man was not that much of an issue. But violence like that witnessed in Nairobi yesterday is not acceptable to me and I believe to most Kenyans regardless of religion. Therefore, those barbaric acts of violence are condemnable by at least my standards. I’m not conversant with much of the teachings of Islam but I am certain that Islam does not condone such acts, if I’m not wrong. If the above is true, then Muslims being such ardent advocates of justice will distant themselves from the crimes that were committed and denounce the riots as this was not their initial plan, they will do all this to redeem the religion of Islam and show the whole world that all they truly want is justice for all human beings and not only Muslims. That will teach all of us the greatest teaching of all- to love one another without prejudice.

Then again, perhaps the Muslims saw the Jamaican as one of their own- a Muslim. Let’s say religion won over patriotism. At that moment other Kenyans cease to be brothers and sisters. The Jamaican Muslim becomes the brother. Naturally as human beings, when your brother is in trouble in foreign territory you will always take his side whether he is wrong or right. Even if you can admit he was wrong, you would prefer to beg to take him home and punish him yourself the way you see fit, but you will not abandon him, because he is your brother. Sometimes, if the situation calls for it, the people who hold your brother captive become the enemy at that moment until you save your brother and go punish him yourself or otherwise. If at all the Muslim saw Faizul as a brother, then the government of Kenya which represents the people of Kenya, the same one that is holding their brother becomes the enemy. For civilians to help the police, that makes civilians enemies. If this second hypothesis is true, then the Muslims may still be right as human beings to naturally want their brother free but lose points on being justice seekers, assuming Faizul has not broken any law here in Kenya or abroad. For if he is wanted for any offence it is only right for Muslims to let the law take its course, whether or not he is one of them- a Muslim. If they do not let the law work, they damage the name of Islam as a just religion for they are not a special people, at least not here in Kenya.

Shifting from the question of whether or not the Muslims were right in what they did, what scared me during and after the riots was the profiling and hatred that is slowly brewing up. It is so frightening to see how we could live together as one people without noticing any differences in us only for the subtlest of differences as religion to suddenly be magnified to humongous magnitudes as to cause violence amongst ourselves! That scares me.

Friday, January 15, 2010


The Sanctum is one year old! That makes me almost as excited as I would be if it were my birthday! It’s a miracle that this blog is still standing and I’m incredibly exhilarated about that fact. I absolutely love this blog, especially what it is now as compared to what it used to be, from its new url, new username, new template and few but very worthy new readers especially those who leave ‘educated’ comment(s). Thank you all very much (this is starting to feel like a grammy award acceptance speech). This may also be an opportune time to thank the twins of the Kenyan blogosphere, the duo that was there in the beginning, fellow bloggers who have been such an inspiration to me… and they are… *drum rolls*…. Shiko-Msa and Mama. Thank you guys.
The Sanctum wasn’t much when it began but I think it’s grown and matured into something beautiful, the place where I can just be and let it all out. The place I can just swim and wallow in my words (the rhyming- that happens occasionally when I feel poetic like right now).

If The Sanctum was a place, it would be something close to what Mr. Michuki envisions Nairobi to be, a place of quiet and peace yet buzzing with activity. If The Sanctum were to be a person, well, it would be me. If it were to be a car, it would be a Bentley. If it were a machine then it would be a… umm, what the heck, I don’t know. You fill in the blank. All I know is I want to say the best things about this blog like I wasn’t the one writing it so that I can come back and read this and act surprised and pleased like I’m not the one who wrote this post! Just like how I sent myself Christmas cards, trust me, it works the same as when you receive them from another person.

Without further ado, let’s get on with the show, The most popular post I ever wrote until now judging by number of comments, to my surprise, was the one I bashed Safaricom in. Popularest by far! It got 29 comments. Maybe less if you subtract my own comments but still… people have got issues with that mobile phone company. I would also bestow that post with the ‘Most Informative Post On The Sanctum’ award, because of the amount of constructive information every comment added to the debate. I want to the thank everyone who contributed to the comments. It’s a double win for that post.

The ‘Most Bitter Post’ award, I think that would go to the one which begs for permission to save the day. What caused the bitterness, you wonder? I would tell you but I want you to find out for yourself but you can easily guess, they are the leading source of bitterness on the planet, ironically and arguably also the leading source of joy. You can read this post to contrast, where there may still be bitterness but not on my side, it’s a dilemma.

The most passionate post… and the award goes to ‘HIV/AIDS And My People’, a post for my sick but alive brothers and sisters and a tribute to all those who succumbed. I love you all.

The Most hilarious post this past blogging year was, be silent now here it comes, don’t even walk… this post! I do not write many funny posts so this may be as funny as I can get, or perhaps we will find out this blogging year. And if I’m not funny then I just might have a new entry in my list of facts that I just won’t accept!

Last but not least, I’m going to say right now I’m sick of talking- the sternest post. And that brings us to the end of this prestigious ceremony

I’m so thankful this day fell on a Saturday, Aloha everyone! It means hallo but I just felt the need to use that word. I need to rush to the spot and celebrate…

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


That bed was more than just a bed to her. In her head it was more than just giving head… but more like just a band. You know where songs & games were played, not anyhow with rubber band but with rubber. Most nights, it was touchdown as he touched her down…… down south. & she played it down. In her head the bed was a haven, where memories were made. A heaven where babies were made, just no one knew one day it would all cascade….

All the still years and she dint even know whether she loved him. After all the tears and she still dint even know whether she loathed him. Well, his T-shirt is what she loved. Long, short or tight always fit well for the night and made her feel secure. She loved him in Shirts and shorts too, he dint know love well but craved her in two things, short skirts and at night in his T-shirt. It made him feel brave and pure ….

What she hated was that shit he constantly repeated, cheating on her. What she debated was those sheets she consistently changed. The downside, burn them up or let the feelings burn inside? See like Chingy, every time she tried to leave something kept holding her back and he said she was clingy. See like Ashanti, every time she got the strength to leave the house, he always told her that she was his need. Felt like, home turned into a shanty.

So its hard to let go of the years, so she’s mad she let the tears flow. So its harder to pack her bags and leave, so he heard her cry in the back of the room,saw her eye bags & he fears…. that he had her in that same room bt she gon leave using that sane route.She decides, that one day is no day but today to be precise. She can’t leave coz that cunt will take over her bed!! Instead she will just make him leave, the homestead will & must breath…

She regrets that the marriage was speedy, she bets they were needy. Till death do us part, now she would die to be apart. It will be long processing a divorce, but it’s a process she devotes all her longing.So he is moving out, she is moving on. You see, like Usher its like moving mountains. She is certain she will usher the new beginning.The love making was great not demeaning but there lies a greater meaning after such heart breaking!!You see, one more speedy thing she doesn’t wanna be dependent on his shit, his bed, sheets and nets!! no more. Miss independent got it on speed dial, she’s calling Barnettes …….

Note: This blog post was written by anyiko who was nice to let me republish it on The Sanctum. You can find the original post here. I just loved this so much!

Saturday, January 9, 2010


It is always a great pleasure for me to get tagged but before I attend to that I want to announce that this blog is approaching its first anniversary later this month, perhaps for that reason I did not anticipate just how difficult it would be to come out of December holidays into January with your writing charm intact! I should include this tiny element in my blogging equation come next year. But I think I’m pulling through just fine.

On to the main subject, the good rocker (I presume, judging from the username) who goes by the name rockhead tagged me, I’m supposed to write ten things about myself that the blogosphere might not know about me. Now, I have done this before here. Nevertheless I am doing this again and I have decided not to read the previous post in order to come up with a fresher, original me. So here it goes.

1. I have certainly forgotten what a day looks like at sunrise because I am so not a morning person! I sleep through most mornings and stay awake a good portion of the night. Dare nobody judge me though, I am not a bird and I’m not looking to catch any worms and this does not by any means render me lazy indolent. (Yeah, I’d rather be indolent that lazy. The word just sounds classy) Although I must admit, given the circumstances, this is going to change soon.

2. I get attached to objects, for example, and this for some uncanny reason reminds me of dogs, there is a particular plate in my house I insist eating on, a particular glass I must drink from… I wouldn’t even change my faulty mouse for my computer because its got ‘history’. One time the last of my favourite glasses broke, I couldn’t help to think of all the things I could have done that I didn’t that would have changed its fate, yet I wasn’t the one who dropped it on floor. Thoughts like, if only I could have been there… the memories bring tears to my eyes.

3. Seeing that half the objects I get attached to mentioned above are culinary objects, it won’t win you a medal if you guessed that I love good food, keyword being GOOD, then food follows. When I say good, don’t get it twisted please, I simply mean delicious! I don’t need to know what it is, but in addition to it being edible food, it should as well look edible.

4. I like compliments coming from the fairer sex, it tickles me. I might even try to get it out from them by giving subtle hints, and if it doesn’t work I sometimes find myself compulsively blabbering all the things I wanted to hear them say. And that’s when I’m misunderstood…

5. I have a weird habit of eating my nails! I remember this was included in the other post, I still do eat my nails. I nurture them until they grow to certain lengths and carefully ‘harvest’ them and chew them up one at a time. A good source of protein if you ask me. It may sound gross, well I don’t think it is, I clean them regularly!

6. I get exhausted from talking, I strongly believe its because of the fact that I am not a talker, I like to be alone most of the time. So when I engage in an argument or I contribute a lot at a gathering where there is a lot of story telling and laughter, I get tired of talking. My mouth just starts feeling different and my voice changes a bit, it becomes hoarse.

7. I talk to myself out loud it’s not even funny! Sometimes I’m tempted to think that I just like the sound of my voice.

8. The things I hate most on TV are those ‘oga’ movies (Nigerian movies), and I’m so close to breaking the TV screen because of those excuses of movies (?). They just make me sick, they are one of those things I propose people should atleast do in seclusion. Not a pretty scene at all, so to speak.

9. I find it somehow unsatisfactory when I shorten words for a text message so I end up writing every word in full. I usually have this notion in my head that when I shorten words, maybe the reader may not know what I meant to write. That in turn sparks a debate in my head about whether or not I took out too many letters so one by one I progressively add them until the word is in full. That way no one loses the debate in my head… don’t even ask anything.

10. *Sigh* Lastly, people don’t usually believe it, I fail to understand why, but I’m a first born. And so proud of it. I’m like the third parent in the house, that’s a big responsibility- to boss people around is not easy, it takes years of experience.

So there you have it folks, the things you didn’t know about Wyndago. Remember, you heard it here first.

Since I’m doing this the second time, I have technically told you close to twenty things about me that you didn’t know about my incredible self! Wow.

If you are reading this, consider yourself tagged.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010


Our women don’t appreciate us enough, and that is what they are doing wrong. But we love our women so much, it’s not out of place to hear one of us assert that Nairobi women are the most beautiful, curvaceous and sexiest beings on earth, but I am yet to hear a single woman, even when intoxicated with the drink or in my wildest dreams (and I do dream wild dreams), say that Kenyan men are romantic. That is just the general perception but it’s sadly true even when reduced to individual level. Our women want us to do everything and give nothing back, and by giving back I don’t mean sex.

Here is a theory that our ladies have been transfixed on long enough for them to believe it and it’s almost become a law: A woman shall not admit to a man how she truly feels because if the man finds out he will but only take advantage of it and break her heart. A Kenyan woman will like you, but she wouldn’t admit just how much because you just might feel too sweet, so a man may go ahead and say all the i-love-you’s and i-miss-you’s, call her all the babe’s and the sweetheart’s, you might as well get laid but she will not say it with her lips that you are romantic or the best. No out-of the-ordinary compliment will come your way, buddy. And trust a Kenyan woman to say something mean whenever you blow your own horn. Things like “Boy , please..” and “Don’t flatter yourself, Romeo”, feel me? But dare you stop the gush of compliments to her and all over sudden you don’t really love her.

This is even truer for women who have undergone a heartbreak at some point in their life. Yeah, that’s where another prick of a man spoils it for the rest of us and you end up becoming the relationship messiah, paying for the sins of another. She really likes you and really wants you but will always keep you close enough to not ward you off or make you feel unwanted. You are never going to know for sure and she won’t make a choice after a long time yet pushing her to the corner might not be the best thing to do. I heard it and happen to know that it’s a risk to let someone else in completely, but women and their emotions… when love ends it becomes disastrous for them.

For women who are uncontrollably scared of heartbreaks, I probably could understand but our women have an unreasonable trait of always putting us down when we are working hard to impress them, possibly to trim or keep our pride in check. Men are men, we have an ego, take our masculinity away and what do we have left? I’d say nothing. So ladies let your man have his moments and when they arise, lie if you have to we do that all the time.

“Hey, baby you’re the best”

“You’re the handsomest on the planet”

“My ex has got nothing on you”

You know, little lies here and there, you think we don’t like that crap? If it didn’t cross your mind then now you know.

Lastly, I hereby testify that all the women from the rest of the world have got nothing on our Kenyan women! And that’s real.