Monday, November 21, 2011

Muclimbano From The Least Expected Quarters

I am not a relative of Nguata Francis  but i can bet my all sidekicks that the rain that poured jana in some parts of Nairobi, including Eastern province ( from Shauri Moyo to Uyole) is the biggest fall this year so far.  That rain brought with it the mother and father of all jams and many other miseries along Jogoo and Outer-ring. If were driving along Jogoo Road or Outerring  between 6 PM and 3 AM,  you must have seen news you might not forget or see in many years to come.

I happened to be in that jam for a cool 7 hrs if my mathematics is right and had my share of joy and agony.

You might be wondering what took me to town on a Sunday. All people, including the Chairman refused to know what i had gone to do in town on a Sunday. It was all the works of the devil and the love of tiitas.  Because of a ka event that happens in that confusion,  I think it might make some good story somehow, especially if you are keen on saving. It doesn't work all the time, however.

A pal of mine had hire out his car to another dude that cannot be trusted too much with a big machine. My pal, after being paid car-hire money went to beat trapping in Naivasha and because the machine had to be returned on Sunday, he requested me to pick the car for him.  After I picked the car, i saw its tank was past quarter mark. I am used to driving cars that shows empty tank all the time. If it does not show empty, then you must know that i am on my way to the village or coffee has rippen over and above normal circumstances. Like many of us, I only drink enough petrol to take me where i am going, and anyway, along where i pass, there are so many petrol stations just incase it gets hiccups.

To remove the bad feeling of having a car with  past quarter  tank quantity, i decided to find a way to drink that petrol until lamp showed. I remembered some person of out that lives in Ngong who one time  wanted to put her thuruari on head for me but opted to throw her to one of my friends. She has been asking why i beat myself so much and i don't look anything.

It is the quarter filled tank that gave me the idea to call her for a visit. I called her and told her i had a 750 mzinga of Gilbeys that i wanted to drink with her. With excitement, she told me to zoom as fast as  I could.

There is nothing that fills me up like buying drinks and drinking in a person of out's house. It saves cost by 70%, for those who dont know. One, you buy the stuff from liquor store at wholesale price and two, no tu funny stuff like Taquilla shots and such. If it is nyama, you buy from a local butcher and let her cook in her house, at her cost (oops..with the  escalating gas prices, i feel for them). When the heats become too much, no paying room. Infact you start the frst joti, for those strong enough to go more than three on her couch.

I went to a  place behind Odeon where they sell hard stuff on wholesale (incuding bangi, if you drink). I bought two 750ml  for 9 socks (kwa club ni 2500)  each and one Kingfisher then  voooom.. thats me, until Rongai.

I picked one 750 from the car and walked towards her house. But before going to her house, i passed by a chemist and bought makobosto because i was sure that thuruari will be put on head before draining the 750. When i entered in her house, I met 5 of her friends (including two males, just imagine). In my head, it telled me that they had been called to remove a certain gathee that doesn't remove money easily and keep on postponing Friday and sato dates like a fool.

After lunch was served to me (damn. I hate chapos),  she went and bought coke madiaba to ready the ramnyaring of  the 750 that was initially  meant for the two of us. We drained the ki 750 within twenty minutes. Since i was not feeling anything, despite having taken like 4 Tuskers earlier on with the chairman, I decided to bring the equal equal thing there (I can be sirry at times eh? thats what you are thinking?).

I would have bought even four 750s of them but one guy was drinking as if its water and was talking too much. I dont like people that talk tooo much. Without battling an eye, I said in loud voice

" Eh, to kau ga 750 ni gathira i, turutei mundu meri meri, tugire cufa ingi igiri.Icio ingi ninguongerera" (E, because that one has finished, let us remove each 200 bob and bring another two bottles. I will add the rest). One person of out, i guess, in her entire life had never heard of a man with two real nyees asking ladies to contribute money for beer. But because i remain true to myself, all these persons were working and earning, so, no need to hard hit only one person.   I removed 500 bob and said i have paid for the host. I asked the person to take money from the others and give me, i add the rest. The guy that was not talking too much removed a K and gave to the host. I dont know how the rest was raised but within no time, two more 750 was on the table. I wanted the money handed over to me to go source so that I can also bring the extra 750 I had in the car and say i have bought together.

We drank and beat stories until 7 something. The guy that was drinking as if Gin is water was now refusing to know himself. When he realized he might break in someone's house, he removed from the room and went away.

I was getting impatient and angry at the same time because the other four were not giving themselves shuguli. I expected them to leave after all drinks finished because I was supposed to be the man of that house on that day :).  I must say that they did not have head at all because they did not seem to be in a hurry to leave. It was until 8ish that they left but only after they heard that i was on my way too.

When they left, the person came and sat on my lap. I removed the left brookie small without fear or favor and started to suck. I then papasad small and when i tried to insert hand to feel tiita, the person stopped me. I stopped sucking the brookie and asked kwani what was up.  She laughed small and told me "Wooi, Wanjohi nduri na bahati umuthi, ndina mashiru" (Wanjohi, you have no luck today, I have Mashiru"  I had never heard that word again but since a clever person has no given of news, i filled myself that mashiru = month. My tree, which had started to throb small small suddenly died. I tried to manufacture lies in my head of what to say because i wanted to be out of that house as soon as I could.

When this person saw the disappointment expression  on my face, she knelt down in front of me, unzipped my trouser, removed the zig zag and to make short story shorter, she sucked my riang'a until it poured. But one thing i must say is that she did not let any poured lost away.  When i saw how she was swallowing, i kept on saying a silent prayer that she does not make a move of kissing me. In this instance, i swear i would have refused life life. I was told before by Theuri that if a person of out swallows your poured, she  will love you /loves you like nothing. I dont know about that but with pouring or not, I dont consider pouring as climbing. Cant be. To convince my head that it has climbed, my rianga must enter somewhere warm with the owner of the warm thing saying mbus small small (and must be a tiita holder).

After I poured, she still continued to suck small small. There is nothing that makes me feel thithi and bad like somebody playing with my zig zag when i have poured. I dont like it at all. To stop her from torturing me further, i came up with 1000 excuses on why i should leave there there. Like a person of out with good head and who want to maintain someone, she did not oppose even one second. The only people that oppose men from leaving are those that don't want you to come again and again. (Thats why you find many persons failing to keep a guy)

Along the way, i felt that it will do me more good if i pass by Koinash to see trappers, just to satisfy heart. From top of Koinange until bottom, I only saw two trappers, who by the way did not have their 'official uniform'. That means that they looked like any other ordinary person in the streets, so i felt nothing.

After Koinange, I had realised that my shina phone had finished credit. I drove upto Ambassador because all other places were closed. By that time, it was drizzling small small. From the stage, there is this person of out that was standing where Double M carry from. After she saw me, she smile at me without ending. She looked like sun, yellow yellow, although she is the malnourished type. I hardly smile back at persons I dont know without knowing why they are smiling at me,  so I passed near her, said hi and passed to enter a small shop infont of a cafe to buy card. As i continued to wonder who that person was,  small time, i remembered the person. She works in an exhibition in town. The person also happened to come from Cambodia side of this country, but did not have single accent of Cambodians.(Syoks should meet this person. You will thank me!)

After i bought my card, i returned there to greet her again so that she does not think that t i was  doing myself. She had indeed thoughted that i was doing myself becaue she told me "Biggie, ningeshangaa kwani mko na nani juu ulipita tu bila story mob, na vile wewe huongea kwanza shit"

The person has been removed suckers enough  times, but not by people i know, but i can bet on that. After talking only small, she told me she was on her way home in Buru and had standed at that stage for more than 2 hrs and no bus had come. She told me the only one she saw was charging 200 bob and no other had come. I told her i was on my way to Eastlands and offered her a lift.

Some two gentlemen that were standing next to her woke their ears and looked at me with thaa so that I lift them too. One guy developed steel nyees and told me to give them lift if i was going to Jogoo road. Because sometimes it is not good to carry men, you may never know, they might open your boot, i told them that the car was full. I told them that even that person will sit on somebody.

The person followed me to the car and immediately, we beat it fire towards Jogoo road. From the look of things as we left town, i could see there was a mat crisis. There were many passengers waiting for mats, especially Eastern province route and at one time, i felt bad for not lifting the two guys. But to console myself, i said that it is better to leave them than to have my nyee cut or boot opened.

As we were moving, I checked on the fuel gauge and  realized that it had dropped small, almost to the last bar and once once removing lamp.  With the experience i have, that means that you are on reserve and could drive from Nairobi to Thika without adding fuel. Because I wanted the person to know that I was driving a turbo engine, I was pressing on the accelerator peddle so hard to remove the desired effects, at the same time, unknowingly, drinking too much fuel.

When we reached near Ruto's appartments, that is where we saw jam start. I deviated to a chochoro inside makadara so that we could remove at phase 5. Inside the estate, jam was moving, although small small. We moved at snail, though i was following a mat that was overlapping until we reached near phase 5 where cars had closed each other on all lanes and no car was moving.

All these time, we had not talked anything sensible, only about job small, how business in exhibitions has become undoable because of high rent and low margins, and had asked her about some few persons of out i knew but did  not know where they went,  and  cursing motorists that were overlapping and closing all sides.

We had reached a dead end by now. All cars had been switched their engine and lights off. It was still raining small small. It is then that i remembered i still had a whole 750 on the back seat. I asked the person if she will take small. She said yes. I poured some on some empty water bottles  for her and for me. We mixed the contortion with Kingfisher and water. I was already high myself, so i was only taking small. Again, i dont like hard stuff. I'm so royal to my summit. Ideas had started to crop in my mind now and to  make her head get confucious small, i told her that  Gin does not like to be drinked slowly, otherwise, tomorrow it will punish you heavily by giving you a mighty  hangover.

After one hour, we had not moved an inch and there appeared no hope of moving. But on the other side, my person had opened up to me small small. One thing led to another, although i cant remember how i started, i found myself sucking her very tiny brookie.

All this time, The Chairman and a man called Kiama were not giving me peace. The chairman owed me two beers and kiama wanted to show me his person.  But what they did not know was that i was in the middle of a person of out of Cambondian origin that looked like sun and knows how to spin (they are good in that, yea) and traffic jam. Kiama, if you remember is this guy that will never give me peace  if i call a person of out near me at HB umo. He comes to my ear and says "uthekereirwo muno guku tondu riu winario ni ikoro. Kire gikueherere" (You have been laughed at so much because what you have is peeled. Tell her to get off your back)

 As i was caressing one brookie and sucking the other, I felt  my belt being unclasped and then, my zip being opened. Then, slowly, inserted her hands and grabbed the zig zag which was standing like nothing. 

 As she touched touched my zig zag, I moved my hand from her brookie, down her tummy as i prayed not to get month, then down under her thuruari. There’s nothing more thrilling than your hand being inches away from tiita that you are not sure you will eat. Inserting further down, I felt she had not shaved all, or it was now growing, some hard hair. i continued to insert hand and when i was some few inches away from her kamonie I felt she was wet already. 

I removed hand and made the seat to lie down, then moved her zip down. All this, i was not sure if she will refuse or not. But i was determined to make her to get on heat until she begged me to climb her. I moved her trouser down and with no struggle, she lifted herself up so that it can remove completely. When she saw i was struggling, she removed it together with a white hot pant herself and threw it on dashboard. I removed it from dashboard and threw it on the backseat. 

With my three fingers,  I made circles around her tiita  and worked on the inside of kamonie until she was extremely extremely wet and warm and saying small mbus. As I was doing this, we  kissed while she stroked my tree as she increased the small mbus and moaning. 

I removed from her mouth and went back to her tiny brookie. As i worked on it , suddenly, she pushed me away. I thought she was going to stop me from any further action. Instead she went down and started to suck my zig. I did not want for her to suck for long because some few hours back, it had been sucked in Ngong until it poured. Again, i feel nothing when my tree is getting sucked. I feel nothing.

After just a while, she got up and kissed me then asked in almost low tone, “ Babie, you want to do me?”. Very fast, i replied, "Yeah babie".

"You have a cd?" I first lied to her that I didn't. She did not however appear amused.

I pushed her on her seat, removed my trouser completly, then jumped infront of her, pretending that i was serious abut the cd issue. I was worried because she appeared like she could let me in without because one leg was placed on the dashboard and the other almost on my shoulder. I was disturbed small but was able to fight it though.

I took my trouser and removed makobosto. She refused to know how i carry makobostos on my pocket, based on the expression that was registered on her face. Or maybe she wanted a meat to meat? be the judge.

If i lie, i will go to devil. To be very honest, if I did not have makobosto with me, i would have still  ranmyad bila. That kitu was quite something to be let off just like that (pun intended anyway).

After positioning the riang'a on her hole, it slid straight in there as she moaned. I ramnyad and ramnyad withut fearing anything. It was raining outside and all cars had switched their engine and lights off. It wasn’t long before she started moaning in big voice and her contractions and convulsions becoming more intense, an indication that she had poured. I continued to ramnya because I dont pour fast when under the influence of Gin. I ramnyad that thing until she poured for the second time (thats a record i put there).

I guess all this took like an hour or so and still, not a single car had attempted to move or switch the engine on. I told her that we will not put clothes on because i will ramnya another one. (I have bored you with lots of details, right? full story on muclimbano part  will be a story on itself when wanjohidaily.com returns).

We relaxed as we continued to swallow gin and once once fbooking. When she saw me fbooking, she asked to invite me. If you have good head, you cant tell a person of out that you are wanjohi. Wanjohi plays under the water, you know. So, i gave out my pals's fb account. I was eager to know if i had just climbed wanjohidaily fan, so i asked for f names too to search. Phew, only 6 mutual friends and not a friend of Wanjohi.

After two hours sittin on the jam again, the jam started to open, although small. When a small space was created, i started the car to move to the space but ole wangu. It  was only starting and cooling immediately. There there, i knew that petrol had finished. There there, i knew i had been climbed.Because i wanted this person to know that the machine was a Twincam Turbo engine, I was pressing the peddle so hard  until it drank fuel like it is in 2004 when super was 65 bob.

I told the person that petrol had finished and had to go buy. I put back my clothes on and I went to the boot and like many motorists, it had a jerrycan for emergency (not necessarily petrol. Even water :) ). I picked and walked towards Total petrol station, some few meters away. It was also raining small. Walking on that road, water was reaching upto knee level. As i was walking on those water, my nyees were shaking because i did not know if there was any open sewer. On my way, I counted three cars with their bonnets opened, meaning, they had broken down, drank water or felt cold. To remove cold when its cold is not a joke.  When i reached at the petrol station, there were 7 guys lining up with jerrycan to buy fuel. The guy at the fuel station told us that he has sold more fuel by jerrycan than he had filled cars since morning.

I went back to the car,dripping water and shaking like a rained shiken, i refueled it. I had to make an artificial funnel by folding a  note. When i finished, i returned to the car, smelling petrol all over and dripping with water.

Continued tomorrow...

I remain,

Wanjohi wa Kigogoine.

32 comments:

  1. Hehehhehe......not bad....

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  2. u r a class act.g ood read

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  3. The part where you pretended you wanted to dinya bila cd has jazzed me. But tell us the truth, did you ramnya with makobosto?

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  4. Point of correction (a wise person has no givenry of news)

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  5. Nice read. Nangoja keho sana!

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  6. Interesting, why is it that Nairobi chics dont seem to have a problem with getting ramyad bila CD nowadays??? I have kulad 6 chics in the last 3 months alone bila and it always starts with the famous question, "do you have a CD", at which point I say I dont but convince them within all of 3 minutes... Hmmmm!!!

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  7. @ wanjohi... If you have good head, you cant tell a person of out that you are wanjohi. Wanjohi plays under the water, you know. ...this is fresh , I had always wondered..


    @Anon,Nairobi chicks are interesting like that, I ave also eaten a few namna hiyo....Its weird and by the way shag one two times, I can assure you that the second time ni bila CD effortlessly.

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  8. Erotic local porn adult photos and videos http://vitukali.com

    Mature discreet romance around u, forum 4 juicy affairs http://penzilink.

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  9. @ Anon 12:38 PM and Lord, haha. I am not preaching water, but, why would you ramnya a chic you hardly know bila cd?

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  10. Haaiiiiii Wanjohi, You have arranged us small. Kwani you did not drink the 2nd bottle in Ngong!!!

    "drank water or felt cold" do they feel cold or insert cold === kuingeria heho

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  11. We have suffered since "this life" went under, now you are not on facebook what is happening? Because is What?

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  12. Dont tell me that u didnt knw wot mashiru was wanjohi?i also ought to ramnya someone wen theaz jam

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  13. he he "ka ni cha cd nani tembea!!" doctrine according to nairobi shiks, tru who loves em anyway??/
    "....moaning in big voice and her contractions and convulsions becoming more intense...." there kimonimoni is strong bwoss

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  14. it is not good to carry men, you may never know, they might open your boot,............................that was the best part.nimecheka yangu yote

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  15. We niuritinuka muchuthi mayau

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  16. why should smone be proud that u ramyad without cd.its sad cz it ur life at stake here.be responsible as much as be disciplined its ur life......

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  17. u play under water n yet ur photo is all over fb?- hemedi pan

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  18. yeah some chics are loose lakini mimi hata uwe na mlingoti huni-tii bila cd...nakukunywa nakula na wanipeleka home na hata kunusa kuma yangu huwezi..where do you get this silly mama's who can be climbed by any1 at anyplace?anyway nangoja part 2 lakini wewe ni wrong number..

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  19. Thank God you are back!

    I also try that design of "Sina CD" to see if chics will allow me to get in without..funny enough most are willing, as long as they are wet engouh(on heat). But I always put it on after kuwapimanisha...its my life you know!

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  20. hahahaha..ume ni finish.u made reme along tym ago i climbed a person of out kwa ma3..lol..

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  21. Wanjohi this is crazy......... really how can u ramnya so,eone bila cd? and again during a traffic jamm? u have really made my evening...LFAO

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  22. kwani wanjohi kare ki ...umenyamaza tena?!?

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  23. And who the hell is this fellow:

    http://nyerionline.com/component/content/article/1-latest-news/362-wanjohi-wa-kigogoini

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  24. Anonymous said...
    Interesting, why is it that Nairobi chics dont seem to have a problem with getting ramyad bila CD nowadays??? I have kulad 6 chics in the last 3 months alone bila and it always starts with the famous question, "do you have a CD", at which point I say I dont but convince them within all of 3 minutes... Hmmmm!!!

    ------you are very foolish, its not about the chiks your stupidity shows but then again its the hicks fault right arent you afraid of getting HIV? smh

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  25. We now understand why Lyn is no Simu Ya Jamii. Afterall, she has a PhD and is married, thus, not likely to lower herself to the level of her students. But the label has a new dimension when you see her wedding photo. The one of her wedding reception at the Safari Park Hotel. The outline of Lyn’s pregnancy is so visible that experts would say it is beyond five months. Conservatives, would, however contend, that Lyn is sinful. How can she conceive before marriage?
    Yet, those who know Lyn would give you a different perspective. Lyn went for her fellowship at the Amsterdam Universiteit in The Netherlands. Therefore, she is the Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. To the willing ear, Lyn never forgets to tell them about the country’s progressiveness. The capital city, Amsterdam, is afterall, home to the famous red-light district. Besides, Lyn carried all that cultural experience back to Kenya. Red is her trademark colour.
    Legend has it that girls who go there for further studies are really educated. By the prostitutes. Thus, it is logical to conclude that Lyn, studious as she is, learnt a lot. From watching the prostitutes in their bras and panties from their windows for 24 hours. Not to forget them using the ‘SM Specials’ from sex shops. Forget theory. The Netherlands was all about experiential learning.
    “The Netherlands is a truly progressive state, whose welfare model should be copied by the Third World countries,” lectures Lyn to the willing ear. Any country where global sex-tourism in the ‘suburbs’ is legal, has to be progressive. From the ‘upmarket suburbs’ of Moleensteeg, Slapersteeg, Stoofsteg and to the Trompetterssteeg. It is all in Lyn’s walk.
    As a dedicated exchange student, Lyn brought this progressive welfare model to The Third World. Her Kenyan fiancée, now her husband, has already embraced this model. To avoid the cliché of calling someone ‘X’ so as to protect their identity, let us refer to him as S. S recalls how it happened.
    He was about to knock Lyn’s door with the usual boring preliminaries about how he had missed her, but she would have none of it. In her no-nonsense style, Lyn approached S in her underwear and whip. Lyn posed as she had seen the prostitutes in Bergstraat do.
    “I want a baby, a marriage and a prenuptial agreement stating that I will get 75% of your wealth, in that order,” she spat. S, being an obedient student, immediately committed himself to the welfare model. Progression is not about chasing a skirt for 31 years. It is about haste.
    We only hope that S-Lyn, Junior will be as progressive as his/her parents. Lyn will see to it that red will be his/her trademark colour. In fact, according to the African tradition, S-Lyn, Junior will carry his/her mother’s lineage by being labelled Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. Meanwhile, those in The Third World have to be contented with Lyn’s version of The Netherlands’ upmarket suburbs. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

    ReplyDelete
  26. We now understand why Lyn is no Simu Ya Jamii. Afterall, she has a PhD and is married, thus, not likely to lower herself to the level of her students. But the label has a new dimension when you see her wedding photo. The one of her wedding reception at the Safari Park Hotel. The outline of Lyn’s pregnancy is so visible that experts would say it is beyond five months. Conservatives, would, however contend, that Lyn is sinful. How can she conceive before marriage?
    Yet, those who know Lyn would give you a different perspective. Lyn went for her fellowship at the Amsterdam Universiteit in The Netherlands. Therefore, she is the Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. To the willing ear, Lyn never forgets to tell them about the country’s progressiveness. The capital city, Amsterdam, is afterall, home to the famous red-light district. Besides, Lyn carried all that cultural experience back to Kenya. Red is her trademark colour.
    Legend has it that girls who go there for further studies are really educated. By the prostitutes. Thus, it is logical to conclude that Lyn, studious as she is, learnt a lot. From watching the prostitutes in their bras and panties from their windows for 24 hours. Not to forget them using the ‘SM Specials’ from sex shops. Forget theory. The Netherlands was all about experiential learning.
    “The Netherlands is a truly progressive state, whose welfare model should be copied by the Third World countries,” lectures Lyn to the willing ear. Any country where global sex-tourism in the ‘suburbs’ is legal, has to be progressive. From the ‘upmarket suburbs’ of Moleensteeg, Slapersteeg, Stoofsteg and to the Trompetterssteeg. It is all in Lyn’s walk.
    As a dedicated exchange student, Lyn brought this progressive welfare model to The Third World. Her Kenyan fiancée, now her husband, has already embraced this model. To avoid the cliché of calling someone ‘X’ so as to protect their identity, let us refer to him as S. S recalls how it happened.
    He was about to knock Lyn’s door with the usual boring preliminaries about how he had missed her, but she would have none of it. In her no-nonsense style, Lyn approached S in her underwear and whip. Lyn posed as she had seen the prostitutes in Bergstraat do.
    “I want a baby, a marriage and a prenuptial agreement stating that I will get 75% of your wealth, in that order,” she spat. S, being an obedient student, immediately committed himself to the welfare model. Progression is not about chasing a skirt for 31 years. It is about haste.
    We only hope that S-Lyn, Junior will be as progressive as his/her parents. Lyn will see to it that red will be his/her trademark colour. In fact, according to the African tradition, S-Lyn, Junior will carry his/her mother’s lineage by being labelled Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. Meanwhile, those in The Third World have to be contented with Lyn’s version of The Netherlands’ upmarket suburbs. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

    ReplyDelete
  27. We now understand why Lyn is no Simu Ya Jamii. Afterall, she has a PhD and is married, thus, not likely to lower herself to the level of her students. But the label has a new dimension when you see her wedding photo. The one of her wedding reception at the Safari Park Hotel. The outline of Lyn’s pregnancy is so visible that experts would say it is beyond five months. Conservatives, would, however contend, that Lyn is sinful. How can she conceive before marriage?
    Yet, those who know Lyn would give you a different perspective. Lyn went for her fellowship at the Amsterdam Universiteit in The Netherlands. Therefore, she is the Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. To the willing ear, Lyn never forgets to tell them about the country’s progressiveness. The capital city, Amsterdam, is afterall, home to the famous red-light district. Besides, Lyn carried all that cultural experience back to Kenya. Red is her trademark colour.
    Legend has it that girls who go there for further studies are really educated. By the prostitutes. Thus, it is logical to conclude that Lyn, studious as she is, learnt a lot. From watching the prostitutes in their bras and panties from their windows for 24 hours. Not to forget them using the ‘SM Specials’ from sex shops. Forget theory. The Netherlands was all about experiential learning.
    “The Netherlands is a truly progressive state, whose welfare model should be copied by the Third World countries,” lectures Lyn to the willing ear. Any country where global sex-tourism in the ‘suburbs’ is legal, has to be progressive. From the ‘upmarket suburbs’ of Moleensteeg, Slapersteeg, Stoofsteg and to the Trompetterssteeg. It is all in Lyn’s walk.
    As a dedicated exchange student, Lyn brought this progressive welfare model to The Third World. Her Kenyan fiancée, now her husband, has already embraced this model. To avoid the cliché of calling someone ‘X’ so as to protect their identity, let us refer to him as S. S recalls how it happened.
    He was about to knock Lyn’s door with the usual boring preliminaries about how he had missed her, but she would have none of it. In her no-nonsense style, Lyn approached S in her underwear and whip. Lyn posed as she had seen the prostitutes in Bergstraat do.
    “I want a baby, a marriage and a prenuptial agreement stating that I will get 75% of your wealth, in that order,” she spat. S, being an obedient student, immediately committed himself to the welfare model. Progression is not about chasing a skirt for 31 years. It is about haste.
    We only hope that S-Lyn, Junior will be as progressive as his/her parents. Lyn will see to it that red will be his/her trademark colour. In fact, according to the African tradition, S-Lyn, Junior will carry his/her mother’s lineage by being labelled Simu ya Jamii ya kutoka Netherlands. Meanwhile, those in The Third World have to be contented with Lyn’s version of The Netherlands’ upmarket suburbs. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

    ReplyDelete
  28. Why does Theuri have to be thankful to you? Did you one day help him out and he refused to acknowledge it? Are you in a position of power, besides being abusive? Are you a departmental head in a school or university?

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  29. Hey, have the labour pains started? Is 'Wanjohi's' first baby here yet? Wanjohi, you have to remind your readers that you are pregnant and no longer have the undevoted time to 'mock' Theuri.Or do they think that you can do both at once? Sorry but days when 'Wanjohi' could claim to be six men in one, are sadly over. He is a papa-in-waiting, got married last August and S's 'border post' is real.Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

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  30. Hee since u felt good that day. Two chicks sucking your vianga in in one day in gong and car ooohh

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