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Weekly Photo Challenge: Mine

my dog- Sokoro. Well,used to be mine until old age took him away from me a year ago. I miss all the fruitless hunts, the fleas, and no matter what, he will always be MINE.
R.I.P SOKORO

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Unusual

This picture is very normal in my book but. I usually see this ‘car’ on my way to class and the ‘crafty’ owner of this one of a kind auto-mobile has successfully eluded me for comment.


Final Destination 5

– suddenly  I am scared of bridges, spas, gyms, factories, planes and bars. usually, I would be afraid of terrorists and nuclear weapons but now the media tells me I should be more wary of my friends or the potentially ‘harmful’ routine things i normally do. The dangers to which I am exposed to on a daily basis make serial killers, rapists and politicians look really bad.

Basing on these ‘educative’ horror flicks, I receive more threats to my existence than the CIA an National Security every time i leave the safety of my basement but even there, things can get pretty ugly given the numerous dangerous stuff kept down there.

Pretty soon, I will have to get myself an indestructible personal bubble just in case Karma decides to take a day off or better yet, a well deserved vacation.

See you soon…… (Hopefully)


Weekly Photo Challenge: Distorted

tried to take a panorama picture of the three hostels in campus but something went wrong. some students lost their limbs and i ended up with multiple street lamps plus a disjointed hostel to boot


A trip to the other side

The searing afternoon heat hung heavy in the air. One of the boys slipped sending knobs of sod into the pit as the sliding ropes stirred the earth. Dust rose languidly carried forth by the gentle draft obscuring the wailing assemblage momentarily. A lump rose in my throat but I couldn’t cry now, I had to be strong for the toddler clutching at my fingers. However, in despair, the tears flowed freely and I hung my head and whimpered like a schoolgirl.

Little Sally’s glassy eyes gaze into mine, puzzled at her father’s breakdown and I look away in shame. It was sad but I could not fathom that feeling, I dreaded that feeling but my heavy heart just did not consider it at the moment. Yes, I was in grief, not for her mommy but of my own end that loomed so near and so certain. Steady now boys; steady the brown box as it descends into the abyss. There, peaceful she is lain as that hot head rumbles along about dust and ashes.

My will to live is strong like the headless chicken squirming under the butcher’s blade but not for long, the body can only take so much. The painful coughs that have grated my throat for days on end have started draining the vim and vigor out of me. Soon, the sores will follow neck on neck with other despicable ailments I only read about in those hospital handouts the doctor gave us.

By now, the boys’ muscles are glistening in the midday sun as they swiftly shovel the dirt into the pit. Sally, just stares into the grave and I wonder what she might be thinking. A sniffle escapes me and I try to muffle it with my sleeve but to no avail. They are now leveling the mound, positioning the flowers and the cross. It is all over and my head is reeling but a steady ringing at the back of my mind seems to jolt me to reality.

I guess it is time for me to go. Earlier, I purchased my express ticket from the pharmacy and the flight is booked for tonight. I plan to travel light and fast, no stops or teary goodbyes. Please tell my daughter not to wait for me because I am never coming back.


love drug

When they say heart break only makes you stronger, that is just hokum as I found out the hard way. The reality is that it makes you come to terms with the loser that you already are and not a better person. When someone you always thought will always be there for you walks out on you, how can you move on? They were your hope, your worldly purpose and everything else that kept you sane. Please tell me, where are you supposed to move on to exactly?
This gets one thinking Love is just another marketing gimmick  just like Christmas intended to capitalize on frail hearts. When you realize how crazy you get, spinning out of control, falling heads over feet all the while craving more and more of it, like a hopeless junky to his stash of weed, hooked for life. Withdrawal from it shatters your senses reminiscing on when you were love drunk as you wallow in a nerve wrecking hangover that lasts forever.
I guess I am done with this love business, because it is not meant for me and neither is it written in stone. Everybody expects you to love and be loved but what if you are not that kind of person, is it a prerequisite? I beg to differ; love is not a daily dose for curing loneliness but a fatal remedy for concocting psychological disaster. I guess it is about time I officially went on emotional lockdown like George Clooney and stop chasing after emotional torture.

In case you were wondering how it’s all going to end, I think I have stumbled upon the fabled Pandora’s Box. It may have no immediate connection to nuclear weapons but believe me it has a head start in the killing spree. If you are in the sub-Saharan section of the globe, there is no cause for alarm because we are technologically immune thanks to colonialism and a dose of Western imperialism.
In Kenyan alone, only about 8 million out of the 40 million people have access to the internet so the rot in the world will not eat into most of its society. We will just watch as the rest of the human civilization is wiped out, that is if the scourge of famine does not get to us first.
Acknowledgments to technology, almost every foodstuff is now either instant or ready to eat. If not your favorite instant coffee it is ready to eat spaghetti. For our grandparents, one had to be a girl and acquire exceptional skill in order for them to conquer the confines of the kitchen. Today, anyone can claim mastery in cooking given an LG microwave, some precooked ‘sossi, beef and a packet of instant chapatti rolls all from the shelf of a supermarket. Unknown to us, we are just gobbling up mammoth calories, fat laced with more fat and a pinch of industrial beef flavor to tease our tongues.
Every day on T.V, skinny Africans cry for aid from the West whose own population is nursing a serious bout of obesity that is threatening most of its teenage generation. No, I do not find it ironical because both are victims, dying. So much for civilization with its excesses and pitiful deficiencies yet we call it a dawn of knowledge instead of taking it as a wakeup call.
The myriad of gadgets and gizmos fathered by technology are laying the ultimate foundation of mankind’s deathbed. Osama (Allah rest his soul) and his henchmen have not employed their use officially but I think they have a hand in it. As the wave of technological inventions sweep across the globe, they stay safe and inactive in some mountainous remote location not to be found waiting for man to destroy himself by the Frankenstein they have created.