Sunday, May 27, 2012

It does not pay to be small.

Its always tough coming back to this blog to publish a post after being away for sometime. Over the past few weeks I've drawn inspiration for great (or atleast I want to believe so) 'articles'. I say articles in reverence of this new lecturer I have that expects us to read about forty pages of notes (publications, journals, articles, periodicals, statute law, the works) prior to every class (yes EVERY FREAKING CLASS) failure of which will yeild a loss of marks meaning that us guys will be going into exam rooms with negative marks. Viva la Law School.

My inspiration however doesn't go as far as I'd want it to, but I'm here now aint I?! And Imma make this work. It will as boring and nonsensical as hell and thus as always, I pray that you cease and desist from further reading.

If she'd have her way, there are two 'professions' my mother would have done away with a really long time ago.

First is deejays. Her justification is basic; they don't 'finish' the songs they play. Lemmi put it into context. A really nice jam comes on telly or radio (and by nice I mean old song that I wouldn't listen to under normal circumstances), mumsie gets up and gets in the mood dancing all over the living room, strutting her stuff like she owns the place- which she technically does (in a manner that I'm particularly not proud of).

A minute into the song, she sees another one coming on; a more modern 'kinda not her thing' jam. Her reaction is priceless. First she thinks that there's a problem. She doesn't understand why any sane being would overlap a song over another- to her its noise. She stops dancing and just stares at the telly to see if this shit is for real. The song passes and enters the next jam. It especially doesn't help if the deejay in question prolongs the transition with his 'useless' scrathes. Lol. She then goes to the kitchen murmuring about how she doesn't understand how a person gets paid to 'disrupt' good music and reap from the benefits of someone elses work- because when you think about it, all a deejay does is play music made by other artists.

The best part is, its routine. It happens everytime. Don't believe me?! Pop in by my house at noon on Sundays when almost every tv station tries to get a spot on the Heaven Gatepass list by playing gospel music. I reiterate: priceless.

The second condemned group of individuals is kanges and matatu drivers. Insane, stupid, dumb, pumpkins, cabbages... Practically every curse word that a Christian lady is allowed to use,they have been called. She hastily repents after that though. Once she said, 'If I wasn't a Christian...' I snickered all the way from here to... Timbuktu. Haha. Matatu drivers I can't defend. But kanges.... I think (thought) they're just out to make money in the best way I know how to. Right?! Wrong! No...wait. WRONG! These dumb pieces of horse shit are the worse product of the Kenyan society. Worthless than plankton! You differ?! Oh I see you looking at me in protest defending that kange who lets you travel without paying fare. You will pay my friend... Thou shalt pay in kind for these 'free favours'. Trust!

Let me show you where I'm coming from. I have Wednesdays as my free day so last week I decided to make a house call on a friend of mine, Sonnie ( I still donno why you ever read this blog btw).

Okay, So I panda the jav and sit almost next to the kange since I don't exactly know where I'm going and I have to work with hazy details (chics give the worst directions btw). Pay time. I give the kange guy 500 bob since it was the only cash I had on me. Don't judge me. Welcome to the life of a Campus Student. I'd thought of buying her cookies but went aganist my better judgment and didn't. She'd have to earn those cookies if you get my flow... *wink*

Anyway...paytime. I give him my 500 reds and he says he doesn't have change and that he'll give me my balance laterz.


He begins to look for change for five soc and goes ahead to give it to this mama seated next to me.

I'm chill. No pressure. Almost everyone shukas the jav and I'm left with some other mama in the mat since my stop is like the last one. Naturally, I ask for my money.

'Pesa gani?!'

At that very moment, I knew I was screwed. What ensued was this senseless discussion about how he's been working the jav for sijui a long time and how he's never messed up his math...and how I was lying to him. Now I have a very scrawny figure. I couldn't scare a mouse let alone this huge beast infront of me even if I tried. What to do...what to do.

I just shukad at my stop and cursed all the way. Thank Jesus for that two hundred bob that appeared in my coat pocket from heaven knows where (which conviniently shows itself now rather than when I was paying my fare) and I got home safe. So yes, I hate all kanges until I get my 450 back... With damages! Like a boss- a thin frail boss but A BOSS NONETHELESS!

No. I dont regret not buying her cookies.

P.S. All of them shall burn in the eternal fires of hell.


Except the one on the picture. She can stay. :-)

I was too lazy to look over this post so forgive all grammatical errors.


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