First Encounter

This post inspired me to write about my first experience. It has nothing to do below the waist.

I’ve always shuddered to think how my first robbery would be…hijacking and all..of course I have lost a few items here and there, some cash but nothing major.

Till sometime yesterday, when am having a free day so I decided to watch the Kill Point, some series about ex-army guys who rob a bank and it goes seriously wrong. At this point, I might want to mention I love the lead guy (Wolf), I think his acting rocks.

So back to me in the room watching the series, and I decide it’s time I checked my mails. This entails lugging the laptop to the hotspot (assembly hall). But before I go, a dash to the bathroom. I know I should be back in less than two minutes, so I did not bother locking the room when I left. I closed the door and made a dash for it, leaving the laptop, phone, wallet, keys and other items in a mess on the bed.

A minute later, am back and guess what? My Chinese Phone and wallet is gone with all my plastic identities (school ID, national ID, ATM card etc).

I never thought our rooms (in campus hostels) were unsafe. You see, for guys’ hostel, you have to lock your room even if you are going next door. For me, I could always go to take a shower, leaving the room unlocked. Of course we laughed at guys telling us true stories of desktops being stolen from the rooms (How do you carry a big CRT monitor and CPU without detection?), but now am locking the room every time I step out.

Well, that’s the story of my first robbery. Still hoping to recover the wallet, minus the cash of course. And if anyone must contact me, e-mail it is. Or twitter, or facebook.


Just Maybe II

It’s been a week and a half. Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me. One minute you feel like you can’t live without someone, the next they have slipped out your mind.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. The said day previously being a Tuesday, we hang out and talked a while. Then he had to go back finish his work, he is in one of those courses where they stay up till early in the morning (She can tell you about it.) I retired to bed with a smile…

WednesdayGoing about my day as usual, and he texts sometime in the day asking if am in the room. Except I get the text much later (damn…I need to put one of those screaming text alerts), and calling finds him in the studio. He says he’ll break at midnight to come say goodnight. I say I’d be asleep by then. He says he’ll call to see if I’ll be asleep. Okay, so I lied, I stayed up. We took a short walk. I let him go back to his work. I can feel the chemistry in the hug.

ThursdaySort of busy day, and waiting for phone call at night. I don’t want to divulge TMI to you, my readers, so let’s just say the day went almost the same as Wednesday. His marking (lecturer checking up on his work) is tomorrow and he will not be sleeping tonight.

FridayHe has to go home, so any plans imagined will just have to wait. But am free in the afternoon and he is free too. We spend time talking among many other things. It’s hard letting go…it’s those ones of “I wish we could stay like this forever..” only it is in my mind, don’t want to scare him away. Then we have the talk, and I can literally feel it going wrong. An excerpt from the conversation goes like:

“I don’t know… am not a commitment guy.”

“Okay…but I don’t think friends with benefits will work.”

“How long have we known each other, a week..”

“Yeah, that’s too short. Maybe we should give ourselves more time…we should have this talk another time.”

“No, it’s good to talk in the beginning.”

It was circular talk after that. And yes, it’s only been a week, though we’ve been seeing each other around the campus before then. He leaves for home, I stick around campus waiting for Sunday night, when he will return. He promises to give me a call the moment he steps in campus. It’s Tuesday and still no call.

I should be sad, I should be anxious, I should be mopping around (at least on the inside), but sadly, am not. I knew it was too good to be true. Right now, I feel, it’s hard to describe what I feel but it is not the heady rush of last week. I am thinking rationally, and I know it will not be the end of the world if he does not call, and frankly, am realizing I don’t care. Or that is what am trying to convince myself.

How come one week you feel like you can’t live without someone, the next they have slipped out your mind?

I wonder what will happen next..

Just Maybe

It was a Friday night. We did not talk much. The semester has barely begun and am already liking someone (I think.) How else can I explain this moment, when am waiting for that knock?

Am lying on my bed trying to read the Wilbur Smith (Elephant Song) but it is barely registering. I turn to my phone but I don’t have the patience to log in to facebook. I try listening to music and you would not believe the stuff that is coming out on the playlist (Sexual healing remix by Michael Bolton, If you are not the one by Danniel BeddingField….skip and it’s 3 Doors Down-Here Without you baby). Is it a coincidence or what?

I turn back to the novel and manage a page. Someone knocks, and my heart leaps. Oh no, it’s the neighbour coming to pick something of hers. An electric cooker, I think.

I close my eyes but his face swims before my face. I keep them closed anyway.

A few minutes later, I hear heavy footsteps. The door is knocked alright, but it’s not mine.

He’s not coming. Or maybe he is. Maybe he is too busy, or he just does not want to come. I hate this uncertainty. I think it’s the worst part. The waiting and the uncertainty.

I decide to call him and hesitate. It’s been almost an hour and if he is not coming, well and good.

Then a loud knock. I sit up straight, straighten my hair and say come in. the door opens and in busts….Mary E. Mary E is returning my electric kettle, and she is so jovial I can’t tell her the last thing I care about right now is if I’ll be having hot coffee tomorrow morning. Then she sits to chat. I just can’t tell her to leave me alone, because she is a good friend and it’s not her fault he hasn’t come.

I finally settle down to read the novel. Thirty pages later, and I hear a knock. I carelessly say, “Come in.”

He says, “hi..” and I look up from my book. At last he is here.


It’s been roughly a year since I wrote my first post on wordpress.

Three years ago, I began writing on the internet. But that is not the first time I was writing. My earliest memory is writing a letter to my father, who was away at the time, to buy us books and pencils. I was 7 years old then.

I have an old blog… I used to blog infrequently till I moved to wordpress.

I write to express my opinions, even when I know no one will read them.

I write to get rid my mind of thoughts, even when they do not make sense.

I write to preserve the memory of today, even when I will not read it tomorrow.

I write to enjoy the feel of words, even when they are not poetic.

I write to have something to do, even when am not idle.

I write to let out my feelings, even if I burn up the paper later.

I write because I love writing.

I write because I have to.

The Week Past

I love the first week in campus. Of course there is no learning, but focused people like yours truly have already checked out the library and borrowed the relevant books, registered for units and copied the timetable. Meanwhile, I’ve been watching movies and series, jogging in the field in the evenings, surfing in the afternoon now that there is free wireless internet (when it decides to behave) and lying in bed reading novels.

Evenings can find you restless, now that you’ve done nothing constructive the whole day. That’s how after supper on a Wednesday night, I accompanied my friend for mass. It’s been long since I was in a Catholic church, and I had forgotten that you stand for 80% of the time. I recited the prayers automatically, my memory serving me well.

The following night was also a church function, and I attended it with the promise of ‘refreshments’ at the end of the function. Refreshments here usually mean a plastic tumbler of juice with 5 Brittania biscuits on a warm night, or a plastic tumbler of coffee on cold nights. It was interesting though, but it stretched too long. I could not believe I was in attendance in a church function, which I usually give a wide berth. Perhaps this semester will be different.

So Friday night is here, and as usual there is a cacophony of noise in the campus. Most people have gone home or out and as we walk back to the hostel, we meet enough drunk students to ensure EABL will stay afloat through these tough economic times. I cannot remember the last time I had any alcohol in my system, so when a pal calls, I decide to show up despite my plans of an early night since I wanted to attend church on Saturday. Yes, I was raised a Seventh Day Adventist.

Electricity is unreliable in Juja, and sometime in the night as we watch season four of Prison Break (The plot has been stretched to the limiting point, hope this is their last season) over cocktails and cigarettes (I don’t smoke, but my friends do), the lights go off. We had decided to stay awake till six in the morning so we went to the shops and got some candles. Getting back, the conversation took a religious turn. Have you ever noticed how coherent you can be when under the influence?

Saturday morning and it’s already nine when I remember my promise to attend church. One and a half hours later, am fresh and ready for church. Am one of those people who rarely gets hangovers, and when I do, it’s minus the headaches. I used to be a regular attendee in my first year, a sporadic one in my second…and third? Well, it’s just began. Am not going to go into details of the sermon, or how sexual immorality and alcoholism are usually condemned.

As we leave for lunch, there is the usual greetings and how-was-your-holidays just outside. I must admit that in this campus, SDAs are not so many so everyone knows everyone else. Many people are telling me how lost I have been, they are glad am back and they hope I’ll stay. Well, I knew it was coming so I smile and say, of course I’ll stay. This is not the first time am having such conversations.

I skip lunch to sleep off the effects of alcohol that are catching up with me. The afternoon session in church is something I have to attend since everyone will notice my absence, but that is not the main reason. I attend it because I want to. Later, there will be a nature walk. Am not planning to go but this guy tells me he wants to ‘have a word’ with me during the walk. He’s a leader in the church. So as people file out to the farm, we walk a little behind.

He asks me some questions, nothing specific really. And come to think of it, there really isn’t much that he is saying, and I get the feeling that he does not have anything specific to tell me. Of course I nod and hmm in the right time and have the attentive look on my face. It occurs to me then that this guy could be ‘katiaring me’. Mental slap Savvy, pay attention to what he is saying. Anything suggestive? No, just an intuition.

The conversation switches from religion to normal small talk. We catch up with the others in the field, form a circle, sing some choruses, laugh some and a final prayer. It’s seven o’clock and Sabbath is over. Am walking away when the guy who was talking to me earlier says he still has more stuff he wants to talk to me about and could I take his number? Well, I knew it! Room number too, and anytime am in his Hall, could I pass by? Hmm…

It’s been quite a week. Classes will probably begin on Monday. Better get ready for the week ahead.

Part of the circle in the field at the end of the nature not saying if am in the pic or not.

Part of the circle in the field at the end of the nature not saying if am in the pic or not.

Porn In Kenyan Matatus?

Is it just me, or has the third season of Heroes gone overboard with the violent scenes? The series is giving me nightmares, I must confess. I do not give myself migraines trying to decipher the plot. The writers are just as confused as I am, I think. Characters long dead come back to life, good guys become bad, the main villain might become the hero that saves the world…so I just enjoy each episode without wondering where it all leads.

Speaking of increased violence, it’s not in just in Heroes. Many PG rated programs should be rated 18 or something. And what is it with nudity? It seems every movie has to have some nude scene even if it does not tie into the plot. It’s hard to find a movie we can watch as a family.

Who predicted that very soon our Matatus will start playing porn? Well, the other day as we were talking, a friend mentioned how her dad was told to get out of the matatu, the conductor telling him that the it(the matatu) was only for young people. We are talking about those pimped up rides that charge you more so they can burst your eardrums with lots of crunk in the name of music.

The matatus then started playing the video versions that are x-rated. Usually, some musicians release two versions of the same song, or two videos of the same song. One is for the general audience (which you still can’t watch with your parents) and another is for…well…the others. At times like those, you don’t even look at your fellow passengers or you decide to listen to your own music.

Back to my friend, she continued to tell us about this matatus that ply the Eastleigh route. Apparently, some of them play porn, not the x-rated versions of videos, but the real thing. And not just anyone enters them. People make out on the way, so if you plan to enter these matatus, you have to be with someone.

Has the world gone crazy or what? Oh wait, the world went crazy a long time ago.

School Opens Yet Again

She turns up for school on the first day. Not a day after, not a day before. This time she leaves home reluctantly, usually she looks forward to a new semester. She might actually be homesick for the first time since class six when she first landed in boarding school and cried the entire first week.

It always feels weird on the first day in campus. It has nothing to do with the long queues she has to make to register for the new academic year, or the systems that break down when they sense it’s her turn at the queue. It’s probably the fact that she has to get used to the routine all over again, the strange bathrooms, the friendly and not-so friendly faces, the few friends and many acquaintances, the few enemies…

She has learnt not to bother making resolutions ever since her first semester. This is the beginning of her 3rd year and she feels old. Sure she might not look old, I mean she has been mistaken for a first year already and gotten an earful of advice from an outgoing roommate who tells her she should make the most of her time, that this is a good campus. She did not admit to being in her third year, she was rather enjoying the feeling of being treated like she is a novice in this campus life.

She spends the first days watching movies, reading a novel a day (you better believe it), and putting her things in order. She got the worst bed, worst mattress, worst locker and she wonders how her roommates look like because she hasn’t met them yet. Sometimes she wishes she was in another campus, because by now she would be having a room to herself. It is going to be difficult getting used to new 3 roommates, will they be weird, holding overnight prayers or the opposite, bringing boys and other unwanted company into the room? She is not exactly looking forward to their arrival.

Her writing will be utmost in her mind, second only to her studies. She feels she has a point to prove, since she topped her class in first year and is dreading the release of second year results. She realizes she has to make up for any relapse in second year with an ‘overlapse’ in third year. She will probably drink less and not even go out the entire semester. She will be spending a lot of time with Z, and is eagerly awaiting his arrival towards the end of May. Z is of course, her computer to be.

She promises at least two posts a week, once the pace picks up. And if you had not realized, she is me.

One of the adverts that adorn our hostel notice board.

One of the adverts that adorn our hostel notice board.