What goes around goes forever

If you’ve ever woken up at 5 am  to prepare for a 7 am lesson and felt really good about it (because it is the first time you’re chucking your alcohol/late night movies/ bedroom theatrics-induced sleep to brave the morning breeze for a 7 am lesson) only for the lecturer to develop a cold then you know the true meaning of disappointment.

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You know I hate you for doing the same thing I do every cold morning. Develop a cold

The pepper on this wound is you paid for matatu, your next class is at 5pm. You hadn’t planned on going back to your apartment and coming back (you don’t have that much to spare) for that lesson because you have to attend it (You’re flunking the unit big time). You’ll have to move in between lecture halls and computer labs because it would be plain bizarre to hike up your laptop and catch up on that series every cool kid is talking about.

And then I felt hungry earlier than I planned (don’t tell me you hadn’t guessed who has so many badluck situations lined up for him). I had to go to a food outlet because I needed the breeze now. ☺☺.  Of course every 6-chairs-1-roundtable shed has people on it and I tried to see which faces looked kind of non-hostile or I-couldn’t-care-more-if-you-sat-here-or-not; believe me no one will be wearing an inviting face because well… you know them CATs what they do to guys like me whose only objective is to get a job which can guarantee atleast two meals a day without having to base the entire week’s diet on ramen. But since even these two categories of people are in serious shortage I choose a third category that I believe am the only one who knows of: guys at the same table with a chair in between them who aren’t talking and don’t show any signs of willing to talk because a hawk will never mistake an eagle for its ilk.

And while am taking my uji, my eyes spot something. Something so beautiful my eyes threaten to leave me because eyes are eyes when they see eye-catching things. Then this thing does something. It turns its gaze towards me and smiles. (Now now now, you didn’t think am here to document my eventfully boring campus career, did you? Because such a post in itself would be boring and make me look like a freak for stalking you. Come on I’m not the only one who has such days). She smiles at my wide-mouthed face and I regain my composure early enough to smile back.

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Ok so am not exactly as cute as this smiley

I see her having the same predicament I had earlier- finding a seat because as my bad luck would have it, even the seats that separated us in this shed are now filled with grumpy Donald Trump-looking men whose main aim ever since they got here is to squeeze every ounce of respect left in me with their business negotiation talks and name droppings like the dinner last night with a certain MP I can’t mention his name on my blog. (Oh, I don’t do Red Cross work here). And now finding people who won’t care is not in the list. Now it is just finding a seat. It’s you who shouldn’t care if it’s a group of people discussing which machines they want to own because frankly you’d had that duscussion earlier- while sleeping.

She finds this seat behind me and I can’t turn back to look at her or it will make me look weird. My class is up in ten minutes and I have decided to go to her table and get her contact details because I want to see that smile again. I stand up and turn back only to see she’s gone. The disappointment earier in the morning doesn’t come close to how I feel right now. And the Ifs begin to pour out.
This is not a story about a girl with a charming smile, it’s a story about a girl who came around and gave me a charming smile and now I won’t ever see that smile again.

Don’t call me anti-social

Don’t call me anti-social

I don’t say hi when we pass each other, you say I’m egocentric. It’s not like you said hi and I didn’t respond.
And suppose you did, and I don’t respond you say am arrogant. Excuse me, didn’t you notice the earphones in my ears?

Their main function is to communicate that am having my me-time. It’s a decoy to say I don’t broker any conversations at the moment. I’m not narcissistic. I just care about myself a lot.
Or you come and sit across from me without talking and you expect me to say hi when am glued to my phone’s screen? If you need to know,  I am checking who I need to poke on Facebook after reading Ariana Grande’s tweets, double tapping Huddah’s self-leaked nudes on Instagram and checking out hilarious memes and vines on 9GAG.

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Very intelligent updates

Now those are about five social platforms and you can just imagine how many guys I interact with during that time.
You say I’m unfeeling because I don’t appear to care. Are you aware how many RIPs I write on facebook mostly to people I’ve never met. The first thing I do every morning I log on facebook is post HBD to all the birthday kids. For what it’s worth, with the little (more like less than little) money I have I contribute to online fund drives. Do you know how dedicated I am to online activism and how many I have spearheaded? Can you imagine how much it costs me to vent out such virtual empathy. If that’s not feeling and being communal then I don’t what is.

I don’t know about you but going about talking about myself to others isn’t being social tobme. It’s being needy. Why should I yell you what I ate last night, my experience at that refreshing ranch or about the teller who was mean to me at tge bank. I’m sorry but if you invited dragged me to a party (I wasn’t ready to go to) because I looked glum and you thought it would be helpful doesn’t mean I have to enjoy the company of other partiers (does that word exist?).
I’m not an INT’J but I don’t appreciate when my personal space is invaded. Remember that.

If Larry Madowo was your boyfriend

Note: The idea may not be original (borrowed from Mallory Ortberg over at The Toast) but the content (or should I say subject?) sure as hell is. I’ll be doing more of this kind of listicle.

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1. You wouldn’t have such petty nuances like those about your hair being out of sorts lest you be reminded that he visits his barber once every two weeks so you can have a backup mirror. Or maybe you would actually get that in abundance since he would be trying to grow hair on your head because he can’t do it on his.

2. You would have to put up with notions like ‘a high strung Ivy League bitch’ from men because, much as they never want to admit, his trollers have the view that Larry is Ivy and should have a lady from the same league. Of course you would be the object of jealous trolls from many women- Larry’s secret, not-so-secret admirers.

3.He would want to learn your ethnic language (that’s saying if he doesn’t already do). Of course you would be his instructor because, typical Larry style, he wants to show that he can learn from anyone when, in the contrary, he considers himself Kwaku Ananse. You remember that time you always say honestly? Psychology says it’s the time you’re most dishonest.

4. You would never know what jetlag is. (I hear it said you only get jetlagged if you aren’t well travelled.) This travelling the world hobby-cum-business trips-cum-excursions-cum-risk adventures (like going to SA in the wake of xenophobia to see if they can burn up your lazy bones. Larry have you ever been more foolhardy?) at first would be thrilling if travelling the world is your hobby or you are a hobbyist (as I suspect Larry to be one). But as hobby turns to necessity, you find it hard to keep yourself in one place- even close to him.

Can we talk about the biggest social media hoax so far this year?

If you’re a social media fan (I prefer fan to addict) like I am then there are names that come to your mind when one mentions twitter. Xtian Dela. Cyprian Nyakundi. The former is the latter’s mentor. The latter is more aggressive than the former (probably why Nyakundi is sometimes known as Xtian’s husband to their haters). But one thing stands true. These two are partners in crime in every sense of the phrase.

Let me start somewhere earlier and glossier. When I started out on twitter, I stumbled on these two and boy wasn’t I fascinated  by their work. Xtian you loved because he appeared to love his fans. I remember I almost drowned in our school’s swimming pool because I had 14 intagram followers and Xtian made the list. Then it was like if Victoria Rubadiri took a selfie with me now. (Bucket list. But that mama!) And Nyakundi followed me on twitter because I engaged him in an argument about whether using kids to achieve activists’ aims was okay after the #occupylangataplayground demo. Well that’s how he actually put it. If you want to know; I argued that those kids were the immediate victims when their playground was grabbed and thus had the right to come out and let the world know how they felt. I’m still not sure whether he followed me because he respected my stand or just to shut me up. And frankly, I don’t care about that now.

This year has seen a lot of Nyakundi exposés but the most pronounced are on Safaricom where he claims, amongst other things, the corporate giant steals from its clients using third parties. The rate at which my bundles dwindled almost made me believe him before I did a double check on my phones network. He got served and was forced to pull down his posts. Then he took on another household name: BIDCO and its CEO Vimal Shah. Again he narrates a lot of folk tales which essentially land BIDCO on the Private Developers Association. Duh? I can’t direct you to his blog. If you need to read for yourself just head over there.

Now this is where our story begins. A  supposed BIDCO middleman contacts our hero (I mean, isn’t that how we all view him?) Nyakundi forwards a middleman too. You guessed right if you didn’t already know. Xtian. I do not have Video Press plugin installed or I’d have posted it here. In the failed brokerage Xtian tries to convince the Bidco guy that their stuff is worth 50M and their previous contractor is offering quite some cash but they are ready to take 20M from Bidco to kill the story. The audio is on Ghafla’s facebook page. 

You’ll have to agree with me Xtian is as poor a negotiator as Nyakundi is desperate to collect his fees after this deal backfired. Let’s get this straight. Nyakundi is contracted by one of BIDCO’s competitors to slander the company. The contractor fails to pay up. Nyakundi then turns to BIDCO to blackmail them except he forgot to learn about discretion when conducting business on Silk Road (that’s my favorite deep web amazon) before his expulsion from Meru University.

To imagine that all these years I was fooled into believing that these guys’ socio-activism was selfless. Jokes on me! And you their fan.