Nice Guys verses Bad Guys

Nice guys finish last because they put their ladies first. – Anonymous

She was dating a pilot, a very wealthy one at that. She knew he loved her and would do anything for her. He was the perfect boyfriend. He would not even entertain the thought of cheating on her. She knew she was lucky to have him. He did not drink. She knew her competitor was Arsenal, a team he was passionate about about. She could live with that. He was a nice guy.

On few occassions, he would invite me to accompany her girl and him to a rave. I was a friend and colleague to the girl. He was a gentleman, the kind of guy another guy would think girls would date but we all know how nice guys fair on in the dating fraternity. We became good friends, not good enough to be boys but good enough for us to hug the way bros are supposed to hug. Not the way Kemboi hugged that French dude though. That is how the girl you have missed hugs you.

She lived in Ummo. One time, he had gone to visit her and someone unsuccesfully tried to steal his range rover’s side mirror. I do not know how much that thing costs but it must cost the same as a vitz and a year’s supply of fuel. He decided that his girlfriend would not live in an unsafe neighbourhood. Within a month, she had moved to Nairobi West in a fully furnished house. Her birthday was a few weeks away, and she got a car as a present. She was living a better life than her boss. And then she got pregnant!

They say that everyone is an aethiest until she misses her periods. As a guy, I have never understood Aunt Flo. Most girls hate when she visits and if she delays for a week, they get all worried. As someone else said, you know you have grown up when someone tells you she is pregnant and your first response is “Congratulations” rather than “isht, what happened?” After telling her congratulations, I had to use a seat to digest what she told me next.

As I was still picking my jaw from the floor, her boyfriend calls me. She whispers he doesn’t know yet. He wants to meet me urgently. That evening, we meet for drinks. Tusker for me, Fanta Orange for him. He tells me that he has reason to believe the love of his life is cheating on him. When he suspected, he asked guards to tell him of people who frequent her place. I was one of them. There was someone else who had spent the night in the house he is paying rent one too many times. He had pictures. I knew him.

The first thing I do when I get home is to call her. “What did you mean you are not sure who the father is?” was my hello. She owns up to cheating on her boyfriend with another colleague of ours. The guy I saw on the photos. I am too angry to talk to her. Her boyfriend was too good a person to be treated that way. I hoped the kid was his.

She tells both of them separately that they are to be dads in about 38 weeks to gauge their reaction. She starts with the pilot who is very excited. He thinks she should move in with him in Karen because his child should have a father figure around. The side dish suggests abortion. And that is when all hell breaks loose. The girl goes ahead and tells him he was the side dish and that the real father of the baby is a rich pilot and other unmentionable insults.

I will never understand women. I do not know what the side dish did, which witch doctors he went to and what they gave him to give to her but he must tell me one day. Within two weeks, the girl had warmed to the side dish that ladies in the office who knew part of the story loathed her. The pilot on the other hand had known the side dish was a colleague of ours, and that sort of put me between a rock and a hard place because I had denied knowing him when he showed me his picture. That as it may, he had bigger problems to deal with. His girlfriend had not picked his calls for three days – as soon as she found out he knew actually – and I was “on leave.” The thing with one lie is that you have to come up with another to cover up for it.

I decided to sit her down and ask about her game plan. Somehow, she had decided to stay with the side dish whom she was not even sure if he loved her. She was not sure she loved him too. He was a bad guy, the pilot was a nice guy. And again, bad had truimphed over nice in this unfair world. At that point, my fist made contact with the wall at a speed that would rival that of light. Something had to be hit and I was not going to hit her. I felt sorry for the guy. Just then, the side dish interrupted our meeting. We did not like each other and I never cared. Now, I hated him even more.

Tell him I will pay back everything he has done for you!” was his salutation. I felt that was the joke of the year. His salary was less than the rent the pilot was paying for her every month. The bigger joke was the girl falling for that nonesence. In no time, the pilot was calling. “Tell him we shall pay him everything!” she said, handing over the phone to the side dish as I slapped myself to see if I would wake up. As I left the room, I could hear the insults the side dish was throwing mainly because he had decided to proove he is a man by raising his voice. What surprised me was that she did not stop him. And knowing the pilot, I am sure he just sat thare and listened. A few minutes later, the side dish left in a hurry with the keys of the car the pilot had bought her. Apparently, to return it.

Where is the happy ending part, you may ask? As long as it is a nice guy verses a bad guy, there is none and there will be none. Bad guys win again as nice guys help Jepkosgei in finishing last.


1950: I want to show you a night out under the stars by the lake. Wouldn’t that be fine? 2012: Here’s a picture of my shaved cock. – Anonymous

That is the last [curse word] time I take dating advice from a muscle that pumps blood throughout my body. – Anonymous

I’d suck as a Christian because there’s no way I’m not ending every prayer with “…and please kill the [curse word] out of shitty people.” – Anonymous

The War Against Cancer

Cancer is a journey, but you walk the road alone.  There are many places to stop along the way and get nourishment – you just have to be willing to take it.  ~Emily Hollenberg

I have never been scared all my life. Forget aliens people, we may have more problems on our hands and I am not even talking about poverty, stupidity and stupidity (the latter has to be mentioned twice due to its abundance). Early today as I was busy doing nothing and basically just minding my own business, my eyes stumbled on mcgothic_‘s tweets. For those who may not know much about her, myself included, she is the self proclaimed chairperson of team forever alone. Not only that, her 15 year old niece has been ill but doctors have been doing tests to determine what was wrong. Finally, the results came in. She had a cancerous tumour and her ovary had to be removed. Problem is the cancer has spread to her urethra already.


How is that for a first paragraph, and I am not even done yet. Last week, milonare‘s dad passed on. The culprit? Cancer of course. The week before last, Caleb who had been battling leukaemia before losing the fight was laid to rest. And the week before, I had to go visit a former colleague who is battling rectal cancer. Now, tell me how in anything’s name I should not be scared to the bone.


According to a policy brief on the situation of cancer in Kenya, over 50 people die of cancer in the country everyday. Add to the fact that both of the Ministers in charge of health matters in the country were both diagnosed with cancer, then the problem is probably bigger than it seems. My view is that the human race is losing the war against cancer. I do not think we have a chance of beating cancer if our efforts are more on curative measures rather than preventive. However, it is not known what causes cancer. Scientists only know of factors that enhances the risk of one being diagnosed with it.


The question I have to ask is, is there anything we can do to fight this disease? I think yes. Personally, I will try and understand it as much as I can. The basics that is, or what I need to know. In the process, I will be throwing whatever I learn here in posts to come. That is my first bullet to the menace. Hopefully, I will find myself other fighters out there and we shall take on the disease like it takes our cells once it attacks. 


Bonus: The World Cancer Day is commemorated on my birthday. I think that is the only sign I need to sign up for this war.

Utopia That Does Not Exist?

By littleGiniK

I was once talking a walk with two male colleagues going for lunch. The cafeteria happens to be quite some distance away from the office. I was carrying my handbag, the laptop and heavy books, while my colleagues had their hands in their pockets. At some point I stopped and asked them how they could possibly be walking by my side and not offer any help. One of them was quick to retort, “You are the ones fighting for gender equality, why should I help you?” We got into a long argument about gender equality. Suffice it to say that he did not offer his help, at least the other colleague offered to carry the laptop.

This incident came to my mind last week when there was heated argument on twitter about whether it was right for a woman to support a man, following the infamous story of a woman who was found dead in her apartment and who it is said had been involved with a well known former TV anchor.

This debate had me thinking a lot about gender equality. This expression can be quite misleading. I like to think that gender equality refers to equality of dignity and opportunity between men and women and especially equality to participate fully in public life, political, professional and social sphere. Let’s face it, men and women cannot be equal in their respective sexual nature, they are quite different. They are not equal but complementary. There should therefore be no question as to which of the sexes is superior. One is either a woman or man by birth. In each case that person will be superior who manages to develop the characteristic virtues of his or her own sex overcoming the defects which are considered peculiar to the same sex.

A man has always been expected to provide and protect, a woman to care for others. A man is expected to be strong, brave, sporty, a woman gentle, tender, feminine, modest. A man has more muscle, a woman more heart. There are things a man will do and get away with even though they may not be so good. If the same things were done by a woman, she will come off looking worse. A man is expected to provide and support his family and a woman to care and nurture hers. The constant bickering between the sexes has resulted in them seeing each other as opposition rather than complementarity. This has led as, Cormac Burke in his book “Man and Values” states, to a disruptive feminism or “masculinism” obsessed with a struggle for power which tends to reduce all aspects of men-women relationships to opposition.

It is not uncommon therefore to see men fight with women to get in or out of a bus, or a man being ‘kept’ by a woman. On the other hand, women have become so defensive that any affront from a man is believed by them to be a show of superiority of sex. There is no better demonstration of this than on our roads. It has also led to an uncomfortable situation where men refer to all women as ‘ladies’ because they’re afraid the word “woman’ may offend.

While it is commendable that feminist movements have endeavoured to correct the many abuses of preceding centuries, it must be noted that equality cannot be right down to every aspect that concerns men and women. The differences between the two sexes should complement, create a harmony, and not compete. Which man would appreciate a woman who had a moustache and hairy legs? And which woman would respect a man who does not show a certain strength, the capacity to face difficulties in a positive way, initiative especially of taking full responsibility of his family? A man can constantly find inspiration in what is feminine; a woman in what is masculine.

A world that does not encourage men to be more masculine and women to be more feminine is a poorer place for growing up in, for learning to be human . C. Burke.

* I attribute the title of this post to one of my followers.

Operation Get Maoga A Smile

This post was originally posted by savvykenya here


To understand why I am doing this, please read this post: I Need Your Help.

Maoga is a young man from the previous post who had his jaw removed during surgery to remove a lymphatic tumor.

Maoga with his mother before surgery

After the surgery, I visited him at Kenyatta National Hospital.

Maoga at KNH after his surgery

Today I have spoken with his father. He tells me the surgery to replace his jaw will cost Kshs. 150,000. Yesterday night, the informal settlement he is staying at in Nairobi was demolished by the authorities.

Even if I do win the Kshs.50,000 (I’m told votes alone may not be the judging criteria), we’re still short by Kshs.100,000.

It is because of this that I have decided to ask for your help: MPESA. Send to the number 0727 832685, it’s my number. I will give you a full report. If 200 people reading this send Kshs 1000, that’s Kshs.200,000. If 1000 people send 200 bob each, that’s still Kshs.200,000.

P.S. If you are a blogger, please REBLOG and let’s commence operation Give Maoga a Smile.

For other readers: RETWEET, SHARE on your FB walls, send your 2 cents, do something.

Days of a Thief…

In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity – Hunter S. Thompson

My name is The Greatrnk. If you have never heard of me, kindly check yourself in the nearest mental hospital. I know some of you have missed me, well, it is only natural. There are others who did not miss me. Well, as the saying goes, in every market place, there is a mad man, and I am not the one who came up with that saying. I have a one way ticket to hell for you who did not miss me. I am nice, I know. I give gifts to those who do not deserve them. Back to the important people: those who missed me. Guys, kindly help out in preparing for my welcome-back bash, as the pretty girls queue up for hugs  and the more pretty ones for kisses. In the meantime, let me tell you what you all do not want to hear. And can someone please manage that queue of those girls awaiting my hugs and kisses. And get that gay guy away from that queue.

While I had gone to visit my relatives back in Messier 31 (those who are using Google maps to find out where I am from had better stop. That is a planet in another galaxy, Andromeda, which is 2.5 million light years away from the milky way), several things happened. Now, come on, ladies and gentlemen, you did not think I was from this planet, did you? On that note, do Scientists know how stupid they sound when they tell us that light from stars which are 2.5 million years ago started travelling 2.5 million years ago. Really? Anyway, I have seen that blogging has changed a little bit since I went away, and the in-thing nowadays (especially with the up and coming bloggers some of whom will make it big or not) is to start by writing two paragraphs then in the third they start with the words “I digress.”

I digress to tell you this true story.

He bade farewell to his wife, not knowing he would not be seeing her again, unless they meet in hell if she decides to visit him if she made it to heaven. He was going for a teachers’ trip for the weekend. She missed him even before he left. He left all the same.


She was waiting for him. It did not matter to her that he was married. “Keep the certificate, I have the man,” she always wished she could tell his wife. She knew the wife loved him, but he loved her and not his wife. She was done preparing his favourite meal for dinner when he knocked on the door. She was going to spend the weekend with the man of her dreams, Kevin.


The plans were in place. They needed not go over them over and over again. They had one plan and it had worked the last four times. This time round, they were going to rob a bigger house. They had heard that the local residents had met a few weeks ago and made plans on how to arrest the insecurity menace. This, however, would not deter their mission.


Kevin was awoken by the shouts of “mwizi, mwizi!” His manly instincts, to impress a girl by pretending to protect her, sprang him into action. He could not heed to her advice to remain in the house, even though he was telling her the very same thing. He knew that she kept no known weapon, so he left with her kitchen knife.


This time, they were determined to get the thieves at whatever cost. The group comprised of middle aged men – heads of families making sure their homes are not next to be robbed – with all sorts of crude weapons. “I can see them,” someone whispered. “Where?” The others asked. No sooner had he answered, than they bumped into a man with a kitchen knife. “Here is one of them!” Kevin did not have time to explain himself. The twenty or so men rained blows and kicks on him. The crude weapons were well utilised. After all, no one in the group knew him, and only one other person in the neighbourhood knew him. How he wished she could defy his orders and come out. Atleast they knew her. She must have been thinking the thieves have been apprehended and Kevin is helping in teaching them a lesson.


Someone knocked at her house. They were looking for petrol or kerosene to burn one of the thieves that had been caught. Even though she did not want to open the door, she knew Kevin would not mind. She only had kerosene in a jerry can, so she gave it out. It must be safe to venture out, she thought to herself. In any case, Kevin was not to familiar with the place, and she had to go make sure he gets back home. She put on something warm and carried a jacket for him. She had to see the thief before he was burnt. She left the house in a hurry. She could see smoke in a distance. About a quarter a mile away, the thief of a forbidden fruit, her Kevin, was being cremated!


Anyone who told you to be yourself couldn’t have given you any worse advice – Anonymous

Facebook does not ruin relationships, getting caught in your lies does.

Choose a Side – Duplicity Isn’t an Option

By Justalffie

Over the past couple of weeks or months, morality as a code to live by has been brought to the fore by certain occurrences, acts and events in the country and their subsequent backlash.

We had the Gardens, the tapes, the swaggerific (the name itself should tell of its vanity!) and also the recent outcry of the deplorable radio show. [The listing is not in any order]. There were scattered outbursts pertaining to the earlier 3 (& probably others I’ve not mentioned) but as pertaining the radio show this article certainly provoked a lot of outrage that was obviously just bubbling under and, triggered by the article, found an avenue to break free!

I wouldn’t use the same language used in the article but I share the disgust of the show’s content & more so that every public vehicle seem to be glued to it every morning almost religiously!!

So what many were saying essentially is…..

 It’s clear that some degree of morality or at least the appearance of holding morality in high regard is still alive in a time when none of it seems to be of value or talked of as valuable! This gives a glimmer of hope for the future, at least for me!

But that is not the point of this article!

This article is really pointing at the blatant duplicity in the argument for morality (or lack of it!) When I talk of ‘morality’ I’m addressing those that subscribe to a moral code/law which to the greater extent happens to be those who have strands of faith in a moral law giver i.e. Christians, Muslims, other theists and even the atheists with a weak faith in their beliefs. An atheist should in no way be bothered by any of these issues as to them ‘anything goes’ so long as it’s good for you! A case of “it depends” or subjective versus objective issue, right? So I doubt this concerns them.

So here’s the point (FINALLY!!)


How can you very eloquently voice your disgust of/for the degrading of morals by the radio show then turn and support a blog that talks of prostitution like it is some glorious achievement or calling?


What exactly are you saying because it seems what you are disgusted by is the “how” rather than the “what”!!

Like Oscar Wilde once said:

Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.

If your problem is the fact that such erosion of value is on radio as opposed to being blogged about, then please STOP! The line of morality is no respecter of art or literature form – it cuts across all that! You either denounce all or none at all! The how, I believe, is not where the “Oscar Wilde line” is to be drawn nor is it where he thought we would interpret his words to mean!

But this is an ethical issue? You can’t bring the issue of morality in this! Really?

Well, I’ll let this answer that:

The difference between an ethics and morality is that the Ethical man knows it’s wrong to cheat on his wife while the Moral man actually wouldn’t (cheat on his wife!)

So which side are you on? Ethics devoid of morality or ethics evidenced by morality?

C. S. Lewis once put it in great wording when he said (wrote actually in his book “The Abolition of man”)

We make men without chests and expect from them virtue & enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst!

Here Mr. Lewis had just made a case that it’s unhealthy to be a man “with a head and a stomach but without a chest” simply put, you can’t be just working with logic (head) and what I’d loosely interpret as ‘greed’ or ‘what’s in it for me’ approach to life (stomach) and without a heart (chest) which if I can employ the Hebrew understanding of ‘heart’ would include emotions & morals! We need more “men with chests” if this is to change!

Judging by the growing popularity of the blog, I have two conclusions: either the ‘author’ is a great writer or people are just interested in some guilty pleasure without dirtying their hands! If it’s the former, then she can definitely write on other issues and leave the ‘life choice’ right? If it’s the latter, then we need NOT be surprised if all hell breaks loose on radio, TV, music shows and events now, do we?

Juliani, who in some sense like other musicians is a philosopher on the account that art (music being very much part of it) is considered the 2nd level of philosophy, a couple of years ago (close to 5years ago) said this;

Bedroom inaletwa sitting room, vipindi kwa TV… not a joke!”

Safe to say that we are way past just being on TV… We didn’t heed his call then and are clearly not now which means it’s going to get worse, especially with the double standard approach we have to such issues.

Stand for something or fall for anything” someone said that but I say, “Stand for something, the right thing, or fall. (Period)

P. S. (or Disclaimer) This is no way attacking anyone but merely making a point on the basis of principles and thought and maybe to some extent of worldview.


They come at night,

Swathed in dark clothes and combat.

Brandishing weapons, sharpened and of might.

I only have my bare hands,

Hardened and senile from years of toiling,

knowing this day would come.

Wishing it never did.

and i hide my seed.

Shelter them from the painful truth,

that this is the world i bore them to.

and i plead for their lives and mine too.

But there is too many a foe.

With only a single evil cause.

Sons of the devil!

And they push me aside.

Part my legs. Not gently as he did,

before he left us behind.

Brutally as though i never lived.

Hold each limb in place with a strong hand.

Hands that stink of young women’s blood,

with tears of old women, salted.

and they rip my clothing,

Beloved sons of the devil!

And they violate my woman,

laugh and mock my curves, depressions and bumps.

I bleed loudly,

my heart screams silently,

Helpless, worthless.

Till i can bleed no more,

Till the tears run dry,

In a land with plenty a reason to cry.

Let them not get my daughters i pray.

Yet they still do and i hide my face,

from their deafening pleas,

Yet i close my heart to their painful cries,

I am ashamed.

For i cannot hold their little hands.

Or prevent them from touching their budding breasts,

Sons of the devil!

And I cannot hear them call me mother,

I cannot taste their warm tears,

Caress. My naked body.

and i cannot one last time, smell their innocence.

Before they take away their chastity.

and i am ashamed,

cold, unmoved, dead.

Eyes still open.

Tears streaming.

and i ask in death, as i did in life,

”Sons of Africa, why do you destroy your women?”

©Ado Yiembo.

Copy and pass ”Sons of the devil” around to your hearts content but always post my copyright notice above correctly both as courtesy and as a legal necessity to protect any writer. Thank you.