I will never understand why young couples are always loud, even when they are expressing some of the tested, proven and universally accepted lies that bind. I was buying lemons at KEMSA rates when I heard a girl tell a boy, “You are my world.” I looked at the boy. I wondered if the girl knew what she was saying. I mean, was she ready to solve global problems?
Posted by Mark M. Chetambe on Saturday, 29 August 2020
When a Nairobian visits his upcountry home, he puts on brand new gumboots, takes a hoe and swaggers to his little farm. He digs one metre, sweats like River Nile, takes twenty photos and then addresses the nation. In the address, he sounds more dignified than Kenyan ranchers, and he uses the opportunity to condemn the laziness of rural people.
Posted by Mark M. Chetambe on Wednesday, 19 August 2020
The world has now reconciled itself to the fact that most men mutate into singers when they take their bath. Even confirmed introverts suddenly become weaverbirds at the touch of a cold drop of water. They may sound like hybrid frogs or post-menopause hyenas, but you will hear them sing, hum or whistle. The loudness of their performance depends on the size of their ego or the severity of their problems. They may sing confidently, as if they own the Deep State, or they may mumble mournfully like men who have missed a seat on the bus to Ebukhwe. Having observed this phenomenon for over fourty years, I have noticed that the song usually comes to an abrupt end. For two major reasons. Soap gets into the eyes. Or an errant fingernail rebels and drills into overcrowded nerves in certain parts of the Great Legs Region.
Posted by Mark M. Chetambe on Monday, 17 August 2020