How my closet door almost got ripped off its hinges

I was thirteen.

At this age, kids are out there learning how to preserve the earth and read their way into becoming top-notch neurosurgeons, but not the 13y/o that was me. I had learnt that there was more to the bees and bird’s story. My whole purpose on earth became the undaunted task of unraveling this mystery and wonderment and I found it from these two girls in high school.

One of them was my best friend whom I had a crush on since day one of my high school life. She was a knock-out. In fact, God had hired her during his last day of creation and he was like, you know what? thy shall possess all the remaining beauty of this creation, because you are sweet as pie, and I am God, I am allowed to do such stuff.

Being the romantic midget that I am, there was no way on earth I was going to confess to her that I could be her kindred spirit plus other benefits too.

Stories have been told about lesbians in high school facing the wrath of expulsion; these become painful memories that follow you for the rest of your life. There are depressing things in a lesbian’s in life which eventually fades away with time, enough determination and maybe expensive therapists. ‘Lesbian behavior’ expulsions is not one of them, they are in a class of their own, no amount of alcohol you pour on them will make these memories go away- – you can blow away the entirety of your income hiring ‘em therapists but eventually, you will meet that bitch from high school on the streets who will oust your ass all over again. Really, high school for you will never end.

These tales made me shudder in fear. Girls were to be watched from a far and no amount of lesbian fantasies would make me touch one. Figuratively speaking, ye perverts of the world.

I should have stuck with this mission and direct my teenage energy into solving complex algorithms but no, this was adrenaline rush for pete’s sake.

During my second term in my second year of high school, all my lesbian alarm bells went off. Lust, wet dreams and other words of the same family came running after me day and night at disconcerting speeds.

You see, I saw the two girls kiss on my way to the dormitory from my night preps. I became unstoppable; oh mercy, I was in deep. I used to have these heart shaped sheets which I preserved to write for my first true love and now the moment was here, and writing I did.  Fancy drawings and heavy Oxford dictionary words were used. I finally stamped it with my signature fragrance, smeared my lips with lipstick and sealed it with a kiss.

The letter made her spine turn to gel.

I think I had a way with words back then, as compared to the present where I have to hit on a woman with 140 freaking characters. The feeling was mutual she said: she had always liked me but somehow figured I was not ‘like that’.


The nagging issue was how I was going to dip my toes into the issue that was her current girlfriend. We had to start somewhere, but attempting to enter the world of threesomes was a dicey dive, besides, I never wanted to share her with anyone. Teenage love. We decided to play it cool, I don’t even know what that meant but it was like stealing sugar from the sugar jar and leaving some on your cheeks kind of setting, so she found out eventually.



 Nothing says you are all fucked up better than an estranged jealous fourteen year old. I will call her Beth (second time I am using this name here). By the way, I am in no way affiliated or bitter with chics called Beth, it’s just the name that comes to mind every time I am doing a post. But was i in her shoes, I would have acted the same way maybe so I don’t blame her now.


Beth went ballistic. She started blackmailing me by writing me hate letters and such, but the capper of it all was when she broke into my school locker and found a picture I had taken with Sheryl (yes even her name was a total knockout) in a not so Godly pose. She threatened to take it to the Deputy Principal. I don’t know about Deputy Principals from other schools but the one we had in high school will have her own bunk bed in hell. That woman would literally beat the daylights out of you if she even dreamt that somehow you were about to commit a wrong. 


I had to save my ass quick and fast. So in return I asked Sheryl to gather all the notes Beth had written to her and give them to me. She was in love with me too and was willing to do anything to save me now that Beth was entirely and specifically targeting the co-wife, me. I copied all them in my own handwriting (I couldn’t risk giving her the originals since they were my only exhibit) and passed all of them to her and on the envelope, I wrote, sounds familiar? That did it, it gagged her completely.


But during Beth’s brouhahas trying to name and shame me, a few girls had gotten wind of our secret (between Sheryl and I) that there might be a thing going on worth of their discovery. That meant that to prove them wrong, we had to cut all ties. It’s an ordeal I would rather not revive, spending each day with Sheryl like she was a complete stranger, craving for her touch; I had even imagined marrying her.


It is like your fashionista friend telling you that your favorite pink pants look so terrible on your butt. Now all you can do is hang the goddamn pants in your closet and look at them every day and sob your brains out.


Oh, the love story is over.





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.