TWITTER ACCOUNT STOLEN!

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!

STRANGE STRANGERS

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.

BURST MY BUBBLE

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?

BED [WYNDAGOLIZED]

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.

BED (PART TWO)

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.

GOD IS GOD AND MAN IS MAN

‘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.

YAWN

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.

“Yes.”

“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.