I had successfully avoided the capital, [Nairobi] for the better part of this year. But as July drew closer, I knew my rabbits were coming home to roost. 

I would have no choice but to leave for the city as campus was waiting for me. And my father (that man) wanted me out of his house ASAP. Sometimes I wonder whether he really provided that sperm which won the fertilisation marathon. Cause, we're always at loggerheads. But I think it's a father to son thing to always argue. I love him, dammit it!  Even though I rarely say it. Actually I never say it. 
Whenever he says
"I love you, Osoch."
I know he means it, as guy has done a lot for me. Without him I'm nothing. But I never say shit. I sit there grinning like a fool. And concentrate on the tv or whatever I was doing. There's this touch of insanity when a father and son go around declaring their undying love for each other. 

Does this happen to you??  Cause with my mum, I can hug her anytime, text her "I love you mum." But with my old man, our discussions are like business transactions. We blue tick one another on WhatsApp like it's nobody's business. But it's cool, men have more important things to worry about than texts from their millennial sons.

As the year imposed itself upon us. Just being at home was epic. Eat, sleep, run some errands, eat again, sleep again and again. That's the mantra which kept me going. Of course I would write or read a bit but that was on extremely rare occasions. When I wasn't doing any of the above, I was out chasing chicks. Of course it would be chicks!  Or you thought I would in some church group reciting verses, singing hymns and visiting prisoners?? Come on, every dude out there will tell you that after finishing highschool, it's all about chasing chicks.So  I tried my luck, but because fate is an ugly bitch. I never really succeeded in my plans. I always hit a brick wall. No chick had time for the bullshit I had to say. Or twas God's way of punishing me.

To cut the story short, "nililamba lolo." I felt like shedding tears at times, like, why was God forsaking me?  His lovely and handsome earthly son. Maybe I needed to refine my vibe. There are times I would read those banners put on electricity posts "Mzee Mwinyi toka Tanga. Natibu kila kitu, sportpesa na hadi mapenzi." I would think of going to see one Mzee Mwinyi but then I would get cold feet. This Mzee might just mess me up, so I didn't say shit about my girl issues. And the situation at home couldn't get any worser. My father was always pointing at me, "Boy!, should you get a girl pregnant . Utachunga mwenyewe." That's my old man for you, the coldest fish in Kenya.

The other thing people who have finished high school do is go to computer classes and learn how to copy and paste. Ok, I already knew all that shit. But my mum, knowing the kind of Negro I am. Lady, wasn't going to let her boy be at home idle all day long.
"An idle mind is the devil's workshop. " She used to say. Of course, homeboy would try to argue out.
"But ma, I can write and do stuff."
"No you're going for comp classes." With my mum, I just can't fight with her, it's not in me. So I obliged, "okay, I'll go."
Oh yes, it's the season we also con our parents. It's not good, I always feel freaking guilty but then, si we're still children. Fees for the comp class was 5k but I set it at 10k. Till this day I cannot account where the rest of the amount went to. Maybe I offered it as tithe, just maybe, nobody knows for sure.

So I joined a comp class at St Ann's in the Kisii CBD. That's where everyone in Kisii goes to learn how to copy and paste. Of course I met epic people there. My boys Eric and Kevo. Well, you gotta give it to them, like damn!  Those people are freaking fun. Every moment with them is pure laughter. We troll people, we troll each other. It's sad that campus has savaged our bond but they'll always be close. Our class was at 2.pm, we meet in town at 1.pm. Kevo and Eric hammer a bottle of vodka flat and we head to class. Of course I never tasted the stuff, even though I know  don't believe me. [please stop rolling your eyes]

Okay, today I will set the damn record straight! In front of our holy father. Osoch Ogun, the rainmaker or whatever you call me, doesn't drink. On numerous occasions, the devil has tried to tempt me but guess what? "Alilamba lolo." [ isn't that phrase beautiful?]

My mboys would irrigate their throats and we'll be off to comp class. They would be tipsy as hell. But then, I overhead some girls who used to sit in front of us gossip. And guess who they thought was drunk, yes, me. Like fuck! I've never tasted the stuff. I wanted jump and scream at them.
 " You bitches! Your pussies stink like the devil's piss." 
But then I didn't. As I've grown, I have learnt to let some things pass. So I just eyed them. Gave them that, "watch yourself look." But then Eric and Kevin were fantastic people to have as boys, they still are.
So I finished from St Ann's and was a certified IC3 holder. I then joined Elgon view college for another bullshit course and of course I conned my parents once more.
Nothing much happened at Elgon, only that I never finished. So I'mma a celebrated drop out now.

I returned to my normal schedule of "just being there". Little did I know that my dad wasn't having any of that shit. We're talking one time and he's like. 

"When are you planning to go to the capital?"

I always dread this question. Not because I don't like Nai... Damn I'm I'm in love with Nai. No, I felt unfinished in Gusii and there's this rabbit I have there. God, it's beautiful, that rabbit. It's pure white, and has red eyes. I spent lotsa time stroking it's fur and looking at those gorgeous red eyes. He'd wanted that I do my comp classes in the capital but of course I found a way to take them in Kisii. 

But now I had run out of excuses and campus was calling. I had to bid my rabbit goodbye. Dear reader, it was an extremely sorrowful moment of my life. I felt like a valley had formed in my heart. Like a was swimming in this black sea of despondency[I felt like using this word. I don't know if it fits the criteria. But it's a gorgeous word]. God, why me?? Why me?? Must people be torn away from their rabbits in such a horrible and inhumane manner??

But then people have more important things to do with their lives than mourn for silly rabbits. So I packed my small kabag, actually I didn't carry much. Just a small notebook where I draft my stories, some admission forms and my signature denim jacket. Aha! The denim, I never leave that behind. But why would I. My boy Eric always taunts me.. "Osoch, ni ile denim tu."

And I'm like, " Kabisa bro, ni ile denim tu."
Oh yes, it feels good to be with my bros again. I'm the last born so I'm spoilt, a little,not much. Once in a while we go into those dens and experience the Nairobi night life. Oh yes!  I'm legal so we can go to any hole out there.
I'm not doing much in the city really. I'm just loitering around. Today I'm here, tomorrow I'm there. I visited that cursed uni am to join and guess what. I was welcomed by a church service. So we prayed, no, they prayed.
 I liked it because they didn't ask for sadaka. They are clever, those uni people. They know that campus students don't have money for sadaka. A lot of it is spent on booze, jaba, condoms and those morning after pills. My boy, Wafula showed me around the campus. As we walked, girls kept looking at me and pointing at me. Like, isn't it good when people look and point at you ? The only problem is that uni is in the midst of nowhere. But then it's a place to study.

Ahaa!. Homeboy also went to watch the world cup final at KICC, the place to was packed and bubbling with life. The only funny thing was that there was regular and VIP. Regular was free, the only reason I was there of course. 
Now I wondered why those people on VIP payed. Like seriously, it's the same final we're watching. It's not like the one we're watching is being played in Moscow, while theirs was played in space. As a broke negro, what would I think? But it's good to spend money if you have it. Like what's the essence of having money if you can't spend  it. I fell in love with that Croatia prezda, like damn! Mtotovic, that's what the Negroes I was with called her. Mtotovic, came and take me priiiss.

After the game, walking on the streets, of course Nai welcomed me in full song. A troop of girls started twerking right in front of me. One even gave me that look, beckoning me. I won't lie to you, I wanted to jump into the merrymaking and gyrate but I didn't. 
Self control bwana! Like someone may be filming from the shadows and next day I'm all over tabloids. " POPULAR, YOUNG BLOGGER NABBED EATING ASS." Those loud, cockymouthed Kilimani mums would be right on my heels. Driving swords of fire into my young reputation. So no, I ignored the ass festival and walked on.

There's also a chance the clip will spread all over, and people will start calling me. A common Kenyan trait. Even some people I never even talk to will call for sure. And some Negroes would be like.
" Waaah, Osoch, si ulikuwa umekamata hiyo kitu bwana."
And others.
"Jamaa, aluminium lazima ililala ndani."
"We ni mnyama.. Wewe ni mnyama."
I wasn't ready for such claptrap.
I was walking with men of honour. And see, men of honour don't grind in public. Or they don't grind at all. Nobody knows for sure. So I held back the fire in my loins. "Calm down."
I told it.  But it's a stubborn fire. Finally it accepted to be leashed.

Dear Nairobi. You called, I answered. Here I am. Do as you please with me. Let's roll.
The rainmaker.
By Osoch Ogun.
©osoch2018 .
Sharing is extremely sexy. More than sexy actually.
Photo credits[truthslinger] Mutual Matheka. Find him on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/truthslinger/?hl=en  check out his YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/user/mutuamatheka
Ps. As it turns out, I have accepted all of your friend requests on Facebook. Those Zuckerberg boys reached out and said that I have hit the damn limit. If you feel like it, just follow me now. We'll still talk.
And instagram has no limits. If you get what I mean.
Also don't forget to subscribe to motimagz just below there. Run by the epic Tinashe Bonde from Zimbabwe. He is the real G. He single handendly built this blog to what it is. https://mailchi.mp/ae39786d5713/zfp5md6wdx

No comments:

Post a comment

Your thoughts?

© All rights reserved. Kinasisi. 2020