Ever been in a police cell?

I bet you haven’t. You are a law-abiding citizen, yes?
So was I, until I wasn’t. That was last Sunday morning.

Life can be depressing. More so when I get a call in the frigging hour of 6.00am on a Sunday morning the only day I get to sleep like a normal human being. The call goes something like; come to the office now!! Run or hire a jet (with my two shillings salary) but be here ASAP!

Some citizens decided to help themselves with some money in the office, yours truly and the entire crew of other aspiring pensioners in the workplace had officially signed their ticket to doing woodwork and carpentry in prison. We were all fucking suspects!

Seriously, do people still break into an office and steal money in 2013?
Like hell they do. Especially the dumb ones.

I dragged my sleepy ass to the office, mumbling incoherent things to myself because I was either half awake or oh yes I remembered, I went partying last night and now it would take me a whole year to recover..
I got to the boardroom and found like three dozen employees already gathered, a dead calm space, all eyes cast on the ground. I thought to myself, it’s a Sunday, they must be memorizing their chapters and verses from whatever religious book they have gathering dust under their cabinets, then three policemen walk in, and I knew the shit just got serious.

Here is the thing, if you work in a place where money change hand and the money in question disappears mysteriously, you can go to prison, if you have ever come into contact with the office safe, you can go to prison, if you have ever come to as near as to looking at the said safe, you law-abiding citizen can say goodbye to your porn collection. You don’t have those? Okay, me neither.

You will start praying but before you remember where we start the Lord’s Prayer, the said three policemen will have whisked your ass in their van, all sirens blazing.
And so it happened that we had to record police statements and go through gazillion hours of interrogation, ten hours to be precise. While this was happening, we were locked in a police cell, waiting in turns for our questioning.
Some fellow employees were not amused at all; they wear these imported designer clothes and walk around with grand air of importance.

Now, I don’t suppose you are the President’s daughter, so just save your breath and sit your ass with the rest of the commoners. Else, you will receive the beating of your lifetime from the said three policemen, as soon as words like I know my rights and Kenya is a diplomatic country are out of your mouth, a whole parade of officers will have put you in your right place, which could be anything from smashing your balls or biting off your nipples.

What I am trying to get at is, you are better off keeping your mouth shut because the more you try to prove your level of high education, the more you are intimidating the men in blue and naturally, I believe you like your balls and nipples. So keep taking notes.

Inside the police cell, you will find other Kenyans who being a weekend are mostly the call girls and your usual drunk and disorderly Raias. One look at you and they will know that you are not one of them. They have a street code or something.

Being regulars, they know the nitty gritties of how the police force works. They will want to know what brought you here and give you advice more than your lawyer could and they will predict a verdict right there.
Some will shout their indignation, roaring in arguments which will resound in the corridors. This might irritate the police officer on duty who might come inside the cell to show you who is the boss. The said call girls will get into heated argument with the police officer saying they are Mother Earth themselves and they have every intention of outliving every court in this godforsaken country and being the wise one, he will haul insults at them and walk away.

There was this girl of about twenty-one lying semi consciously on the floor; once she woke up, she stood suddenly to reach for her pockets; checking whether her tools of trade were still intact. There is this powder they use to drag their customers; I don’t know what it’s called. She had three packets of those. Being the curious one, I asked her to show me how it looked like which she did and then hid them inside her panties. She had also smuggled a phone inside the cell, which she used to call someone, yowling erratically at them to come and bail her out.
Meanwhile, the rest of my colleagues were discussing in hush tones what could have transpired, others were crying their hearts out praying to the Lord of Daniel.

Our relatives came in turns to check on us, bringing tea and cake with them. They were devoured by our fellow cell mates because we were too shocked to eat anything. Besides, we were taught to wash our hands before we eat and no water was in sight, such was the air of importance we carried around with us..

Ten long hours later, we walked to our freedom.

A traumatic experience for me indeed. So traumatic that I’ve been getting the shakes on an off for a whole week. But I will survive.

As of the theft, it was an ‘organized’ plan between one employee and a hired gang. The case is still in court but by the look of things, the buffoon will be spending a several years prison.

And such are the days of our lives.


How to tell if a Kenyan girl is a lesbian

Hey Kittens 😀

So you are a lady and there is this other lady turning you to mush but you are not sure whether it is your gaydar or your dry spell thirst…

This is that blog where hunting girls is always on open season and in as long as I live, you will never walk alone. Imma do this the Kenyan way, and I am doing my own character assassination. So if she owns or does one or all of the listed below thingies, go ahead and shag that girl.

You might however consider taking a bit of some advice; a straight girl might be of the same character as the undermentioned. Don’t go holding someone’s wife titties or you will go to prison. You are better off jerking off at home than getting raped at Langata Women Prison. I am just saying.


1. Female TV anchors and radio personalities.

Laura Walubengo, Julie Gichuru, Lilian Muli, Anne Kiguta, Valentine Njoroge, Linda Ogutu, Betty Kyalo, Victoria Rubadiri, Nini Wacera, Janet Mbugua, I could go on until the cows come home. Their names are sculpted in my yin and yang. I have a crush on all of them; it’s an abnormality going on.
I don’t think any of them play for my team but who cares! I talk about them all the time, about anything really. Take Valentine Njoroge and her baby doll face for example. I think she had all the good genes surgically implanted in her at birth; I could buy her a white horse, when my skint ass comes into money i.e. My God! I have such an over-active imagination.

2. Music/movies

I will listen to all kind of music if it has some lesbo girl in it or the girl acts queerish. I don’t care if it’s horrible music, I’m a minority and I support my own by buying (ok, downloading) music by babes from my family tree. You will find Tracy Chapman (a particular favourite, up there with pizza and chocolate), Jessie J, Diana King, Lady gaga, Nicki Minaj, Missy Elliot et al in my playlist.

Sometimes I will listen to very weird music, like hard metal. The one you don’t hear a thing and you have to Google all the frigging lyrics and cry yourself to sleep because while listening to it, you developed a frigging headache.

Of course I like all movies with lesbian characters. Before I buy one, I will Google it first; I want to know about the leading characters, are they women and how hot are they? Any movie with loads of women in it is awesomesauce!

3. Gay men.

How cool is it sleeping with a man in the same bed whose willy doesn’t even notice a girl is there? It is so totally cool.

They will keep you on your toes because unlike their heterosexual counterparts, questions like do I look fat in this are answered with honey, keep away from food for the next one month. I mean duuuh!

I don’t need fashion diaries with these dudes around; they know the difference between a fedora, a derby, a homburg and a pork pie.

You should Google these items just in case you think they are food groups.

Also, they are walking dictionaries these ones. I love that about them. They have different accents for different occasions, they are that intelligent ‘em twenging earthlings. Get the gay boys to do everything is the motto I use.

4. Dress code.

I am as feminine as they come. You won’t miss these items in my closet; scarves (a lot), blazers, hoodies, jerseys, bangles (a lot too), sneakers.. In short, I am better off with flats shoes. I am obsessed with scarves and bangles its crazy! I don’t know why, but lesbians have a long-term relationship with these items.
You might also find one or two lesbo paraphernalia which I keep hidden because I live with snoopy siblings.

5. Texting.

You would think I am re-building the Great Wall of China while typing on the phone. How else I am I supposed to stay in touch with all the lesbians of this country? The chats start with a simple hi and can stretch all day long arguing over whether to iron or not to iron our knickers.

I’m a bored youth with the privilege of owning a phone and Safaricom did not give us 500 texts a day for nothing.
Really, Wangu wa Makeri did not sit on men’s bottoms for me to sit in traffic counting all the pink Vitzes. I will spend a whole day texting and I don’t owe anyone any bloody apology.

I will ignore your advice on how I should be building the economy of Kenya and keep typing, you are preaching to the converted. There are so many other hardworking Kenyans building the nation somewhere and I don’t see why you should pick on me!

So you will find me grinning while sending silly smileys all day long. Those little fuckers light up my world.

6. I am out with the girl’s night.

My ass is better off drinking burnt porridge and cold tea at home because I am too lazy to do anything, to dress up and to go clubbing. But when I do go out, it is such a big event it will leave everybody talking; the waitresses at least.

It takes a whole lot of convincing to bring a bunch of lesbians together so when we are in the club, we will break the bottles and flirt with all the waitresses.
We will demand to be served by a specific waitress because we have the hots for her. We will smoke and make out in the ladies rooms. Mostly, we are never in our best behavior.

It is in our DNA to cause scenes and go hammer and tongs with our exes who seems happier now that they are no longer with us, damn you philandering bitch we will shout. Fighting is our currency, the air we breathe.

7. Eye contact.

Mostly, I will hold my eyes on a woman for a whole minute if I am interesting in her. During this minute, I am sketching images about us eating pizza and riding on unicorns together in my head. I will smile radiantly and show naked thirst on my face. I am a weird girl.

It isn’t enough to read books about conquering the world of women and leave it at that.

I have to keep reassuring myself that I will truly conquer this certain girl I am eyeing. That is called affirmation. I will spend a whole day imagining myself taking an evening swim with Valentine Njoroge, that is called visualization. Or I will write lists of all the hot women in Kenya. That is called writing lists of all the hot women in Kenya.

A girl got to do what she got to do.

To be continued……………………..