The Hangover: Final Episode

Dance floor?

Dance floor?

I tried writing the day to day activities of coast, but they were rather too long with too little exciting activity for the reader, I admit. So I am now cutting to the chase.

On the second day, after a road trip to Malindi, we were dropped off at the junction to God-knows-where so we could take a matatu to Barracks. If you are a student who’s been to coast, and you did not go to Barracks, I don’t know what to say to you. All beer is Kshs. 60. It’s on the beach, but it closes early. Am sure you’ve guessed this is not a club but the alcoholic canteen for the army base down in coast. It was at night, we got a stranger who offered to take us there, we paid 20 bob for an almost hour drive (bus fare is cheap in coast), followed the stranger through a dark path-lucky we were like 20 of us- and got to the Barracks 30 min before closing time. They close at 8.30 pm.

Ever had four drinks in half-an-hour? Before I continue, did I ever mention the strategy for having a good time on a student’s budget? You go a cheap joint (with a name like Sally’s wines and spirits), drink there, arrive at the club high and buy one drink ya kushilia. Drinks at clubs are generally expensive. This was no exception…at Barracks, we met another group that had been there since five, drinking and smoking all manner of legal and illegal(sic) substances. The ocean, beautiful at night. The liquor, cheap and flowing. The mood, buoyant. The waves, rushing in. The camaradie, wonderful. The ‘smoking of substances’ , carrying us higher. It was a wonderful time.

After Barracks, we headed to town: specifically two joints: Casa Blanca and Bella Vista. I don’t know where they get these names from. Entrance charge into Casa Blanca was 2 soc per three people. I have never seen so many women in one club. When we checked in, it was rather early, around 10 p.m. every table had a chick, a single chick, perched by. And what were they were wearing? Tops for dresses. It was later that we realized they were in the pleasure business. For us, we swaggered in with our boys. Being single and desperate, the ladies at the club were willing to give free lap dances, etc…but they scared our classmates, am sure.

It was a bit boring at first, so we decided to check out Bella Vista, which was within walking distance. There, it had already hit. There was no entrance charge but drinks at 180/-. Three times as much as Barracks. So we bought our one-one drinks and started having a good time. We got a table at the balcony…and later the club filled with students. That was where I was when I heard Marley had been arrested.

I was there when Butterfly and Blossom strutted in, and asked us to contribute to bail out Marley. I am calling him Marley for Bob Marley…am thinking the common thread here is the smoking-of-you-know-what. Anyway, they said they had met cops who had harassed them for walking around at night (don’t ask me what they were doing walking around the town in their club clothes, they could easily be mistaken for you know what..), and when they said they were students, they were led to the cop car where Marley was being held. The cops wanted kshs. 300.

We gave out our loose change and it came to 280, and somehow B and B convinced the cops who were four in total. Marley was released for 70 bob per cop. He told me later he had decided not to smoke at the club and had taken a walk when the cops found him. He was the provider at that time, still is. Business is business.

Bella Vista closed early that night, around 3 a.m. we went back to Casa B where drinks are 160 bob. By this time the numbers had balanced out but most of people could hardly stay on their feet. You had to take care though, not to take free offers of drinks or munchies. I did hear that someone was offering to sell his phone so he could get money to give a random chick after she gave him something to eat. He was taken out for fresh air, then to another club and he forgot her story.

Casa B has VIP rooms for private dances. I didn’t enter one, but I know someone who did and he told me he was in another world. I don’t want to imagine what that means.

We left Casa B around five in the morning, some earlier, some later, on tuk tuks, motor bikes, matatus. We hardly slept for 2 hours before we started the final day shedule.

On Friday, we went to Fort Jesus, then the ferry at Kilindini, and finally the beach. I still have the tan lines, if you can call them that. That night, instead of going to town, we decided to check out Club Lambada in the Mtwapa area where we were staying.

This is one hell of a club, it even has a swimming pool in the middle, a well-lit dance floor, good music, large enough, entrance charge 200 for guys and 0 for chicks…it’s not your average club. Bella Vista and Casa B are not your average clubs either, but I still think Lambada is the best. We were leaving there at five in the morning, got a half-hour’s worth of sleep, showered, checked out and by 7 a.m. we were on the road back.

The journey back had people snoring away in various positions. I can’t wait for the final trip next year. Am sure the destination will still be coast.

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The Ecapades of Dreamgirl

Warning: This post may or may not contain explicit content

Colourful Collection

Colourful Collection

Dreamgirl is a funny one. She starts the few relationships that she has had backwards. She usually meets a guy, makes out with him and hopes a relationship will start from nowhere. While her friends get to know the guys they kiss first, she kisses first then knows later. Mostly, she is disappointed but quickly moves on. She tells me her stories, of course, am one of her confidantes. I am not supposed to tell any, but am sure I’ve said it before- I can’t keep secrets. Sometimes not even my own.

Guy #1
I am sure almost everyone has been through the fixed blind dates. The only blind dates I go for are the ones I fix myself, but Dreamgirl sometimes accepts to go on those double dates where her friend’s boyfriend brings a friend along for her. Does this make sense? Anyway, this one time, her friend invites her to a mpango in tao. (Some background: Dreamgirl told me this one time she was in a club, and as usual she was almost kissing the guy she was bonding with, when he refused because he had a girlfriend. Usually, a guy who stays true to his girlfriend acquires more points in the hotness scale. It’s a known fact among chicks. From then on, she decided she would know first, then kiss later.)

In town that night, she could see the guy she had been set up with was not bad looking, he was funny, could dance (though the dance floor was too small and hence too much grinding so Dreamgirl told me she didn’t enjoy the dancing as much.)

Later, after they left the club, she was wearing his sweater and inside the pockets were newly bought wrapped condoms. But she had reformed you see, and besides, she just kisses, not sleeps with, strangers. She wasn’t going to kiss this stranger ( I mean they just met) let alone sleep with him.

The guys live in a two bed-roomed place. Her friend and her guy retired in one. Dreamgirl thought she would take the bed while the other guy slept in the sitting room. Of course he had other ideas. So as she lay in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to settle in, she could see through the fumes of alcohol in her head that he had started undressing. Before she could ask, “what are you doing” (not that she could not see he was stripping), he was standing there stark naked, saying things like let’s keep each other warm. Warmth is the last thing she wanted, alcohol had already done that. Secondly, she was wondering if this guy has ever heard of foreplay.

Foreplay does not have to start physically. It all starts in the mind the moment your eyes meet and your imagination wanders. Dreamgirl tells me that that night, she just couldn’t imagine doing anything, however remotely physical like holding hands, with the guy. If foreplay is the Christmas Eve of sex, then Dreamgirl likes the Eve of Christmas Eve.

She knew of course, that he would not force her to do anything, but he was going to try and persuade her for sure. He entered bed, and while her mind was trying to figure out which side of the bed to get out of, he was already telling her, “don’t go…just let me put on a condom. I won’t do anything, am just putting on a condom….” What? She wondered.

Dreamgirl couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even touched her and he was already wearing rubber. Again I ask, what happened to foreplay? If ever there was a time she was turned off, it was then. Then with his alcohol breath, he finally grabbed her and said, “let’s do this….” And when she said how he can sleep with her yet they were strangers, he said “there is always a first time for everything…” Finally he thought of kissing and said, “just kiss me then…”

She told me she got out of that bed, took a blanket and left to spend the night in the sitting room. He did not disturb her anymore.

Dreamgirl realized she had truly changed because now she couldn’t kiss strangers. But Guy 2 proved that a leopard does not change its spots, or some saying like that.

Guy #2
Dreamgirl met this second guy while in a state of inebriation. We use such terms as “wasted” in campus. E.g. huyo msee alikuwa wasted. Or, umeniwaste… or nafeel wasted- when you’ve read all night for a CAT and the lecturer does not bring it. (This actually happened)etc..

So as I was saying, Dreamgirl was wasted when she met this guy. She liked him immediately, he was polite, did not talk much though he was just as wasted, offered his drinks generously, smiled that mysterious smile at the right time and such like trivia that she described to me.

She told me she did not have any plans of kissing the guy, after all, she had reformed.

He did not offer to go dance (you know, for a chance to do some grabbing and grinding… just check out dance floors of Nairobi clubs to know what I mean), did not talk vulgar…so Dreamgirl told me she enjoyed just hanging out and talking with him. She told me she suspects however, that at the back of her mind, the Christmas Eve party had already begun.

She told me she can’t tell how she came to be kissing him. He wasn’t the type of guy to shove his tongue down your throat at the first opportunity, or take your hand and direct it to his crotch even as you try to catch your breath. Rather, he took things too slow, seemed not to care about himself but only about her…I asked her what she meant at this point, and she refused to elaborate. However, I can deduce that since he did not want to be touched, fondled or kissed there, he was willing to do that for her. When he sensed things were going too far, he told her they shouldn’t be doing that too soon and she liked him even more. She wondered how he could have so much control, and could not help but compare to the first guy described above.

I asked if she has really changed, I mean here she was almost approaching second base with a stranger. She told me that saying I’ve already put down; a leopard does not change its spots.

P.S. I may or may not write the last of the Hangover posts soon.

Day One #Hangover III

We would have liked to be booked into the Serena Beach Hotel that was just opposite, but with an allowance of 2 soc which could not even buy breakfast at that particular hotel, we got a good deal at the place Just B had thought of. The only consolation was that there was a semi-public beach within a 2-minutes’ Nairobi walk or a 5 minutes’ Mombasa stroll of our hotel.

Having booked into one room with three of my friends (the room had five beds, a fridge, small kitchen, and reasonable-sized bathroom, and a spacious balcony with two couches, and some chairs with plans of drinking and playing poker on the balcony already on our minds), we started the whole unpacking, showering and settling in process. I tried sleeping after showering but the excitement of being in coast was getting into me. I was restless, so despite having not slept the previous night, I got into my costume, beach shorts, sandals and hooked up with some guys also headed to the beach.

I swam a little, then sleep finally caught up with me.
I woke up as some guys were going on a boat ride, upon the Amsterdam.

Boat rides aside, I did go for a camel ride, an experience I probably do not want to repeat. I know you are thinking that camel rides are for kids, and then you may die never having rode a camel. I drank madafu- coconut water- for breakfast, the guy selling the madafu telling us (my classmate and I ) of the numerous benefits, including making the girl soft and bootylicious, and giving the guy stamina. I admired the coloured lesos on the beach, and later bought one, though not at the beach because they were selling at tourist rates.

The plan for the day was for the whole group to go to the public beach- Pirates Beach-later in the afternoon. Meanwhile, some people slept the morning away while the rest of us spent time at the beach, playing football ( I lost a toe nail; try running in the sand with an ill-conditioned football and about 20 boys), drinking madafu, posing for photographs, recovering from hangovers…that sort of thing.
Around noon, Just B announced he would take us to a place where we could buy lunch, then to the beach. At this point, you may be wondering if it is the tradition of the school to take us to leisure trips whenever and wherever we feel like. Actually, am sure this trip was classified somewhere where signing has to be done that it was an academic trip. However, the only remotely academic thing we did was a one-hour stopover at Fort Jesus, and even then, it has nothing to do with computers or networks. We are entitled to an academic trip at least once a year, but this was our first class trip ever and we are in our third year. We could not waste the trip on matters such as academics and learning…and since we have a choice of places to go, we chose the furthest, funnest destination within Kenya. I am sure we’ll choose it again come next year when we go for our final trip.

We went to have lunch at a joint that sold nyam-chom. (That’s roast meat for the non-understanding peeps). I thought we would hunt for places that sold coastal food and sea food, but it seems food was not the priority; as long as it was edible, who cares if it’s inland food? More photographs while we ate, the slowest service and calculations you ever saw and we were out of the place. Am sure you have heard of the retort “Kama una haraka, ungekuja jana”, literally translated to “If you are in a hurry, you would have come yesterday.” The waitress comes, asks your orders (you wonder how she is able to take all 6 or more orders at once), she leaves for some time, then comes back with a pen and paper and asks for your orders again. You wait for an eternity, she finally brings the food dish by dish, and after eating, she comes around again asking what you ate so she can give you your bill.

I did wonder where Thinker had gone. I heard later that he was riding in the mini. It was my intention to avoid riding in the mini (as in mini-bus which is not as comfortable as the bus), so I turned up early for any journeys. Anyway, along the way to the beach, we picked up some guys who had decided they could not just stay at any hotel but had gotten apartments, those 2 bed-roomed places with a common TV room (I wonder when they got to watch the TV they were paying more for), and landed on the public beach everyone in Mombasa probably has been to.

Nothing extraordinary enough to report happened on the beach. Every girl has been warned to stay away from beach boys offering swimming services because they offer so much more. A number of activities go on in the sea, and not all to do with swimming. I remember meeting someone in the water, he wasn’t a beach boy but some guy from some campus in Nairobi come to do family business in coast, that sort of story. Got the tattoo from Brooklyn, and he did provide good company, which was restricted to conversation and nothing else. (Oh, we did watch a suspicious-behaving couple in the water, wondering exactly what they were up to). Played some water game, the kind where you form some obscure teams and spend the time passing the ball from team to team, with another group of students who had come later that day. I hear every week, there is a group from our university going to coast for some trip. The buses are usually fully booked for the entire semester, so planning for trips usually begins a semester early.

Whenever we go for swimming with my friends, I am always the last one out of water and this time it was not exception, so the plan was to get food then check out what Mombasa had to offer as night entertainment. Most people were tired, but still some went out immediately. We set about looking for food, and ended up eating at the restaurant at the hotel. The orders took long to come and we dozed on the tables, signs of a sleepless night and hours of non-stop of swimming (at least for me).

A group of guys going out asked us to join them, but we had already ordered so we said we’d join them later at the club.

We went back to the room, and I remember showering, wearing my going-out clothes then lying on the bed to nap while waiting for the rest to get ready.

I woke up on day two at 8 a.m. still in my going-to-the-club clothes.

The Hangover II

Part 2: The Remainder of the journey

After the first break, I posed for a few photographs but am not really a camera person so I ended up drifting around, interacting with anyone and everyone. I had drunk all the contents of my bottle, and was still walking in a straight line. Seems I had underestimated myself. So when Chipper offered more drinks at the back, I switched seats to the back of the bus.

There, I found a business in progress. Maafaka was doing a booming business, selling the kind of herbs people love to chew. I’ll explain why am calling him Maafaka later. I felt it was time for a little experimentation. Why anyone would want to chew herbs is the question and I wanted the answer. Let’s just say by the time we reached Mtito Andei, I had the answer.

Maafaka explains to me that you chew the herbs with gum or peanuts. He gave me some peanuts and some herbs, but I swallowed the peanuts. He said he can no longer give me for free, this was a business he was running. I said, to hell with it, am not parting with a cent for something I don’t even know how to chew.

I sat at the back, and took the offer Chipper had given. He gave me a Dasani bottle, the colour of Coke soda and the taste of something like fire. I did not ask questions, but he said the bottle was then mine so I sat enjoying myself, laughing at the jokes and at the accents that were beginning to sound more and more Swahili.

Some guy came to sit at the back and I had to move to a seat near the window. There was someone sitting next to the window with whom I bonded for the remainder of the journey. This guy, let’s call him Thinker, had a bagful of the herbs, which he offered for free. I must admit I don’t remember seeing him before, despite the fact that we are in the same department. Anyway, he had chewing gum, which I had no danger of swallowing this time. Soon, my mouth was bulging on one side as I peeled twig after twig.

Let’s say that under the influence, I talked and talked. Even if you say Thinker and I bonded, thinking back now, I think he and I were having parallel conversations but still understanding each other. You know, the kind where you say something he doesn’t understand, he replies with something you don’t understand, then you both nod and smile.

He had his i-pod thingie which he was listening to and asked me if I liked rock. Of course rock I love, so I listened on one side of the earphones while he listened on the other side, and we chewed and drank to our coast trip.

We took a second break at Mtito Andei, where we had an hour to look for supper. The place where we stopped was full of trailers and dingy eating places. Bathroom breaks aside (it was really creepy), the last thing I wanted was food, but I thought it would make health sense to eat something so I got a place that sold chips and soda. I remember trying to act rather cool, being extra careful with my change but by this time, I had found the question to the drinking and chewing business.

I carefully made my way back to the bus, posing for one or two photographs on the way. The remainder of the journey had guys settling down, even some who could not sit down at first looked for any empty seats and started dozing.

Maafaka had finished his stash, saying he saw an opportunity and took advantage. He came and sat on the other side of me, and started giving me his life story. Most people had succumbed to the contents of their bottles, and the rest who only drank soda had had their hunger satiated so wanted to sleep. I was beginning to feel sleepy myself, but Maafaka couldn’t let me sleep.

He told me how he has to take a number of Naps before he chews. Chewing in this context means ‘getting to his head.’ So according to him, he was very sober, and so he started mixing more concoctions. I half-listened to him as I listened to rock on the other side and occasionally taking a swig out of my Dasani.

We did make one more stop in the middle of nowhere so people could once more, take bathroom breaks. Unfortunately for chicks, we all know we can’t stand just anywhere, whip it out and shake well after use. There was some shelter and we had to go to the other side of it, and wouldn’t you believe it, there were some camera flashes in our directions. With modern cameras that come with 10 point something zooming power, this is one of the times when it’s good to be a guy.

The bus was rather quiet now. Even Maafaka was beginning to relax. I slept on, occasionally leaning on Thinker’s shoulder. The bus rambled on. I did hear later that the mini had passed us by; you would think the bus was faster. I woke up when we had reached Voi and some guy was dropping off to go to Taita Taveta campus to campaign there. There were JKUSO elections, the student organization body, that were coming up. He was campaigning for the entertainment post, I think. For a politician who’s supposed to talk to everyone, he didn’t even once make a speech, or talk to people individually. At least I know he didn’t ask me for his vote.

I got out to stretch my legs (why lie, bathroom break is more like it) with Brown and Brown, henceforth referred to as B n B. One was a classmate of akina Maafaka, and the other was from a different university altogether. She was ‘dandiaring’ our ride to coast. People do that plenty much. Next time, I shall invite y’all, if you want to.

When I went back to the bus, Thinker was popping a can of Tusker. Having finished my Dasani drink, I accepted a can. It was tasting like apple juice. We chatted on and looked into the early dawn. It was around 4.30 a.m. when we finally got into Mombasa.

Just B (If you remember, he was in charge of the trip) had organized for a place for us to book with student friendly prices. It is rather too cheap for me to mention how much we were paying a night, let’s just say it was too friendly but am not complaining.

When we go for trips, there is a daily spending allowance everyone gets which is supposed to take care of your accommodation, food and all else. It’s Kshs. 200. Not 2K, but 2 soc. It’s a big joke. I think the fee was set in the nineties and no one has bothered to adjust it, even with the escalating cost of living and hard economic times. But it was a known fact so you came to coast knowing you’ll take care of yourself.

The bus stopped, and we waited to be given our allowances so we could do some booking. Since we were to stay for 3 nights, that was six hundred in allowances. Being the pitiful sum it sounds like at a hotel in coast, you would think it would be dished out fast with some little amount of embarrassment from the disburser.

But no, we had already arrived and that is when they were realizing that they did not have enough money for us. They told us to take us allowances for that day and resolve the rest later. People were tired, cranky, hang-overed or in the latter stages of being drunk. They started shouting.

Who remembers I promised to tell how Maafaka acquired his name? he woke up, having finally ‘chewed’ and started inserting fuck in every other sentence. “ I can buy you a liter of soda, fuck motherfucker, fuck. What the fuck is this, fuck! I can pour this drink on you motherfucker!” and such like stuff. He annoyed the hell out of everybody. Especially since people were cranky after the long bus ride.

Anyway, I had to sober up quick and try to bring some order. I am the class rep after all. And my best friend ( can we still say best friend at this age?) is the class rep of the other group. We got out of the bus, and called Just B. He had already been sleeping for a few hours, and took his time getting downstairs. He explained over and over again about some kind of mistake with having a list two pages long instead of 3 pages long, and having realized that after going to finance and blah blah blah.

We had to present the hard facts to the rest of the students. We either went back on Friday morning (and we had only arrived on Wednesday) or we went back on Saturday morning and take care of ourselves Friday night. The allowance was only 2 soc anyway so eventually people agreed, though the mood was rather dark. We went to the bus and took our luggage, and went to survey the rooms. It was now 7.30 a.m. Wednesday.
dsc00197

Part three coming soon.

The Hangover

Part 1: The Journey

Anyone who hasn’t watched The Hangover should stop reading this, run to the nearest video library and watch it before resuming reading. It’s about these four guys who head out to Vegas for a bachelor party, and wake up the following morning with no memory of what happened the previous night. I love the movie, mostly because I think the cast was great. I have watched it at least four times.

I admit most of us left college that Tuesday afternoon, hoping to make our own version of the hangover. It may have been a challenge, because in the movie, the guys steal a cop car (when is the last time you saw a squad car complete with lights flashing and loud speaker thingies?), also steal Mike Tyson’s tiger ( that was an American tiger, I doubt jungle cats in Kenya can be friendly enough to be stolen), one marries a stripper, one toasts to four of them wolves running through the dessert looking for strippers and cocaine. Personally, I was staying a safe distance away from both.

Of course, there is the saying that what happens in Vegas… but The Hangover guys told their story. It’s only fair I be allowed to tell mine. But for purposes of being sued and other legal crap, I shall put a disclaimer.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. If any of the people or events mentioned here match those that have happened in real life, it is purely a coincidence.

Instead of a wolf-pack of four, we were two buses of 70. We succeeded in our version of Las Vegas, Msa. I have no idea where to start the narration. I cannot claim to know all that happened in coast, but I shall tell as much as I can remember.

How about I start from the beginning? Having been ready to leave on Monday afternoon, and knowing the lecturer who was to take us (let’s call him Just Business, or Just B for short), I was not surprised when he texted me at 6 p.m. Monday evening telling me we’ll leave on Tuesday, promptly at nine in the morning.

Let’s just say we ended up hanging in my room for about six hours, drinking juice while making several bathroom breaks (need to get ready for the long journey), and going across the hall to the entrepreneurial chick selling credit to buy Bamba 20’s and call Just B, who kept assuring me that everything is fine and we leave in 30 minutes. 30 minutes turned out to be six hours and thirty minutes, from take off time at nine, we left at 3.30 p.m.

In the movie, the guys head to Vegas in a neat Mercedes convertible that even I, who can’t tell a Toyota from a Nissan, could tell it was hawt. ( As in hot.) Since we all could not fit in a convertible, we made our own convoy of one and half buses. I did not want to go in the mini-bus, it would have few people, and it was not as comfortable as the full-bus (from henceforth referred to as the bus. The mini-bus shall remain the mini.) Meanwhile, as I was busy calling guys to get into the bus, I forgot to book the back seats and we had to sit near the front. No need to worry though, the adults (adults in the sense that they are not students) who were accompanying us have seen it all. Just B is particularly free with students and easy to interact with.

While we waited for everyone to be settled, and finance issues to be sorted (this can take forever), Butterfly and Blossom came into the bus. They were kinda late so they had to ride in the mini. But they introduced this cocktail of their invention that was just IT. They reminded us how far the journey to coast can be on a bus, and thus the need to hasten the journey with some sort of cocktail. I shall not be revealing their signature drink, lest they want to copyright it. Email me for details.

Sure, someone is always left behind and as we stopped at Ruiru for yet another bank issue, they caught up with us. We stopped for rather too long so people got out to stretch their legs and came back with six-packs of EABL products and other related stuff. We promised ourselves to wait until the bus started moving before starting to liquidate ourselves.

Our first stop was somewhere along Mombasa road. That was when the digital cameras started rolling. Let me search somewhere for an appropriate photo. It was at night but we had our sunglasses on. We needed to be ready to land in coast at any moment, and I hear it’s hot and sunny over there. I think that was the rationale for the nighttime sunglasses anyway.

The bus ride: note the bottles

The bus ride: note the bottles

And the story continues…be sure to tune in two days for the continuation.

Your Responses

I have written outrageous posts, uninteresting posts (I hope not), informative posts (I hope so) and I have enjoyed your responses. Most of them anyway. I have been criticized, advised, insulted… today, I want to choose some interesting ones and share them with the rest of you who may have missed them.

Response to Porn in Kenyan Matatus

From des
I have seen many X-rated activity in those Matatus in my time. Call me guilty if you like but couldn’t help it myself. One time I was grinding this lady my hard-on was about to burst. Lo and behold she turned to me and gave it a nice massage from the to top of my pants. Another time I placed my pelvis onto this huge ass. The lady knew what was happening so gave me a nice lean over so that I can rub her box underneath. One other time I actually took the lady out of the bus and took her str8 to my little room in Eastleigh. Miss those times dummit.
In Tokyo/’Japan they have female only train cars during rush hourse due the above specific problem. Its the women’s fault.

Comment: really? It’s rather hard to believe you.

From Faiz
ave lived in eastleigh all ma live am astonished to hear that porn is shown in some matatus plying this route i ave heard of route 44 showin porn but eastleigh which route exactly since there is No.9 6 and 4 pliz can the person whosaw it be more specific.

Comment: Why would you want details, anyway? I am suspecting you could be a fan..

Others like this one, I like to read

i like you Kenyan Campus girl………u r so smart
Jarvis.

Mr and Miss Jkuat post had the most comments, including one hater:

The so called Miss.JKUAT used 2b My EX b4 i developed a taste 4 the finer things in life and i dumped the crap outta her bt she’s lucky to have escaped wit a make-up kit i had bought 4 my mum which i c keeps ha going but biliv me naturally she’s scary….Then 2 of the guys in those pics are active gay men,imagn!!!!one of them tried 2 “Hit On Me” sam tym bak in Westie & i had 2 kol my crew n we smacked the hell outa his gay self….Mr. & Miss JKUAT is a waste of Time, Resources and
A DISGRACE 2 AFRICAN BEAUTY,..BLEE DAT!!!

Me: are sure u are not just hating?

Carol: I was going to comment on Mr. and Miss JKUAT when I realized that somone was not only hating the thing but was also homophobe!

Me: clearly he thinks beating up someone is the clearest way of ridding him of gayness.achana na yeye, i dont believe him

Hate: if u don’t biliv me,ask the gay character in those pics…He’s still paying me protection fee 4 me 2 cover up his demeanor…but the beating tot him a good lesson….n if u don biliv that Chic usd 2 b my Ex, check out ha silver rings which she happens 2 only own…they r inscribed “Me n Hate” always…n if any1 tries 2 organize this contest again,i’l kol my pple n u’l get a beating…Am Homophobic n Miss. JKUAT Must GO 4 GUD!!!

@Savvy, ur next.

@Savvy,u better slow ur role…I heard u were among those walked down the STAGE OF DISGRACE,trying 2 B a beauty queen without beauty…U don’t the Director of CCK had sent a stern warning to all media houses warning against coverage of the event…its a threat 2 NATIONAL BEAUTY SECURITY…and biliv u me this thing aint neva happening again…The situation is much smaller than that…its not evn an election but the votes are cast and Mr.JKUAT must GO!!…am the HALL 2 JANITOR.

Jowgoo: Mnajua this event ilikua usiku, na wathii walikua gauge, thaz why kukawa na mix-up ya results!!
Kwani you think huyu Miss ni kitu? Disgrace!
Ati Mr. what? labda kama wanacheki feminine qualities sawa!!
I love you guys

Me: Which guys?

Anonymous: i thot maria would win it coz enyewe she’s hot almost like rubi! mind u im a chic sayin this! we should appreciate real true beauty! by the way who won?

And many more interesting ones, keep them coming.

The Colour Purple

Okay, you got me. Jeff Hardy is my inspiration for the purple hair.

Okay, you got me. Jeff Hardy is my inspiration for the purple hair.

I had made up my mind. I was going to dye my hair purple come what may. Of course, I had considered that idea before, I had told countless friends (ok, maybe my friends are not countless) and watched their shocked expressions, wondering why purple. Am sure you are wondering the same.

Purple is different. I just want to do something crazy looking, but legal, for a semester. I was also to change my wardrobe to black.

So here I was last week, entirely determined to prove I could do as I said. I went to the first salon and asked if they do highlights. The lady there said they do. I asked if they have purple. She said, no, they only do highlights and if I wanted to colour my hair, I would have to look for the dye myself. I suppose its too much to think she knows that highlights don’t have to be blond.

I went to the next salon, and told them I wanted to dye my hair. They said, sure we’ll colour your hair. Only they have black dye. They asked what colour I wanted. I said purple. They were shocked…they asked if I was not sure I wanted black. I think I know the difference between purple and black.

Feeling let down by salons, I went to the supermarket to buy my own dye. I searched and searched, but all I could find was burgundy red, or strawberry blond or some colours like blue-black. No one had heard of purple dye.

I called a friend of mine. Super Ongea at the supermarket was 3 bob so I let her ramble on before asking her what it was she had said about using food colour to dye hair. She said it works, it’s the best and you mix it with treatment, apply and that’s it.

Since I figure I am a DIY kind of woman (DIY-Do It Yourself), I took some three tubs of purple food colour, mixed it with my treatment and waited for the results.

The Results: my yellow towel- purple. The bathroom walls-purple. The top I no longer wear- purple. Parts of the floor in the room-purple. My hair:- black with a brownish tint, just like before.

To cut the long story short, do not dye your own hair. Just go to the salon. Does anyone know where I can find purple dye, or a salon that can change the colour of my hair?

I hope it does not turn out like this!!

I hope it does not turn out like this!!

This is more like it....

This is more like it....

P.S.
Am sure you are waiting for the coast pics and stories. Am writing them as I write this. Patience.