SHOP SOILED: IT CAN ONLY GET WORSE BEFORE IT GETS BETTER

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The goods have gathered dust from being on the shelves for too long. Poor guidance, ignorance or uncertainty has made most girls to be shop-soiled.

Education is both a blessing and a curse.
Most of the social evils arise from the so called ‘western civilization’. They say knowledge is power, but it only depends with the kind of knowledge. Why a harsh tone? Lemme start from the beginning.

I was recently contacted by an old high school ‘buddy’ let’s call her Jane, apparently she had a deal that would give me 50k. Hearing that huge amount of money my interest grew. She had rich clients aged between 27 and 35 both white and black, who could pay between 50k to 100k just to be entertained by ladies between 19-25 years.
I quickly asked what she meant by ‘entertained’.
The already known reply; sexual Intercourse.
All payments are made before anything happens. The deal was to take 4 hours. She must have said that to sweeten the deal. I politely replied that having sexual Intercourse with a total stranger isn’t my cup of tea. My friend is a law student at Nairobi University.

Why did I say no?

First of all, Jane asking me to be an escort was degrading. Period.

How do I even look at the so called ‘client’? Do we talk first. Or just get into business.

Or we start by giving names. Do you even say real names? Is it even safe?

This is a total stranger, my mum warned me about strangers. Apparently it’s a business that is booming. The target are campus ladies. A lady is contacted given a ‘job’ description then a meeting is arranged between the ‘client’ and ‘escorts’. Money has enslaved a lot of girls. Sometimes I wonder if we are working for ourselves or against ourselves.

First it was sponsors, when getting the sponsors get difficult an agency is formed. Just how low are ladies willing to go.

With this kind of trend, I fear for the worst. What happened to pride. What happened to hard work pays? What happened to big dreams? What happened to being a ‘boss lady’ and ‘miss independent’? Our new age definition of a boss lady is a lady with big butt, who makes all the men in a room go googly eyed. Women who are paid good money for sexual favors. Where is our morals. We are hardened to the core. We don’t care if the men are married. We don’t care if we are a source of a fellow woman’s sadness. So long as at the end of the day we get paid.

Every time I see a lady with a bright future and good brains fall in the trap of an illusion of a good life, I feel sad. Have we no souls? We sell our conscious, we sell our souls, we sell our bodies. We happily put a price on our own heads. Unfortunately, most women have a price tag. That is the truth that men have to deal with. Money always seem to get the better part of us. What surprises me is that most of these ladies don’t even come from poverty stricken back grounds.

Campus is where you lose or find yourself. It’s a jungle out here. Female students are prey to a lot of hunters. The male students are no different, but that’s a story for another day.  Let’s not give in to life’s vanities. Let’s not destroy our souls for a few shillings. Let’s stop acting like starving people and think long and hard about life.

We are in University let’s start acting like it. Let’s stop acting like goods that can be easily sold and bought for a few shillings. Let’s walk with pride, with heads held high. Let’s work hard and be proud of the fruits of our labour. Let’s not be a ‘rich’ man’s slave or form of entertainment. Sometimes we think we run the game but in real sense we look like fools. Sometimes what we do to look ‘cool’ brings out the opposite of the desired effect.

If we depend too much on our physical appearance, then I wonder how we will cope when we get old and wrinkled. Beauty has an expiry date. Just as we can’t cheat death, we also can’t get away with a lifetime of doing wrong. Let’s learn to see the bigger picture. One day our every action will catch up with us, unfortunately it will be too late.

Vera

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Beauty before Madness

Ssup people!

It’s such a beautiful sunny day don’t you think? So beautiful that I think you should try and forget about all the craziness that has filled the air the past week. Let’s be filled with positive vibes so that we will only try to see the beauty around us.

Instead of seeing the vandalised buildings and the destruction of the barbed wires segmenting various sections of school in the name of fences, let’s choose to see the beautiful landscape that Moi University provides. The awesome terrain that’s mostly all green at this time of the year. The beautiful flowers that bloom on the various trees that provide a really amazing floor for you to walk on you’d think a red carpet event has been set out for you. The chippering birds in the air that make you feel like you just teleported to a nature reserve.

Instead of seeing a place where a student hanged himself because of a girl, allegedly, let’s choose to see the waterfalls as a beautiful God-given gift to us to use for our recreational purposes. I can’t remember the last time I was there but if you are in Moi University and haven’t checked it out you are missing out on a lot!

Instead of seeing people around us as thieves, let’s choose to see beautiful people who care about one another. Those people living at stage might agree with me that living with the natives, is kinda amazing in the sense that you are treated as family and have a home away from home. They will care about you when you fall ill and may watch out for your safety (of both you and your house). They have amazing kids you would enjoy playing around with. I know the child in me enjoys that. They might even bring you milk straight from milking a cow, unprocessed. Okay I know I may let the Kale in me take over sometimes, but I mean, even you think that’s pretty cool, right? Makes you believe in the good of the world.

Even if it’s for a short while before the madness takes over, choose to see the beauty 🙂

 

Sylvia

Two wrongs make a right, right?

March 14th, 2016. Time is 2230hrs. After a slow & boring Monday, I was glad the day was winding down. My hatred for Monday had risen to another level. Every Sunday night I wish to sleep and wake up on Tuesday. I have 2 personal requests; one to our National Leaders to declare Monday a permanent holiday or if that fails, to God to restructure the days and eliminate Monday from the face of Earth.

Anyways back to the point, I was lying on my bed, bored from stalking people on social media.Suddenly  there was some commotion outside. ‘Well those must be bitter drunk Arsenal fans who can’t bear seeing Leicester win yet another game’ I brushed it off. But the intensity of the noise kept on building up enough to warrant my attention. I groped outside my room down the dark stairway and joined the people gathered outside.

Out there I noticed the various fashionistas from Hostel L and K in those Bamburi Cement T-Shirts and stockings on their head. My oh my, this is how they look underneath all those layers of makeup! Flabagasting! (if the word is still in existence). A second there I thanked God for making me a man incapable of deteriorating through the night. And to think of all the potential husbands whose hearts were crushed by these women. Good riddance. They dodged a bullet there.

Focus Mike.

Gunshots. Ululations. Stampede. Everything was going haywire. Al-Shabaab! That was the first thing to cross my mind.

‘Mbona sikuchukua Kanzu from Abdalla?‘,  I cursed. It would have come in handy. Time to construct my escape plan. Wild thoughts went through my head. They were met with a police van racing through the murram at speeds that would make an NFS gamer proud,  with students chasing behind chanting ‘Haki Yetu! Haki Yetu! Mwizi!! Mwizi!!’

“Who’s the thief? Is it the Police? Why are people chasing the police van?” My detective instincts kicked in and after coercing a few people I was able to establish that a thief was caught in the hallways of Soweto and the students had chosen to go barbaric on the soul. They wanted to beat then burn the theft out of him. Luckily the Police had come to his rescue just in time. An incident of ‘spare the rod spoil the child’ don’t you think?

Angrily, the students retired back to their rooms unsatisfied that they were unable to vent out years of perpetual frustration from SportPesa, love triangles & all those hard courses in school.

But this begs the question; would two wrongs have made a right?

Mike

Breakfast

Most people would agree with me when I say that breakfast is one of the most important part of your day, and without it, most things would go south. If I made an inquiry in to your morning preferences I’m sure we’d end up with a toilet-roll long list of local and exotic recipes (some of which are true nightmares to prepare).

I kinda have a totally different fetish for breakfast. I consider breakfast as the point of the day where I get to tingle all my senses, have them respond to a common stimuli. I see it as the time of day where I have all of me fully consumed by a single event and carried away by the tides that come along with it.

Thing is my mornings are quite simplistic. Most of you won’t regard it, but I find it rewarding.

 What always tells me of her presence is the crispy, clean, mildewed smell of that Spanish Antonio Miro that she recently bought. It always rents through the air every time she uses it. This has always announced to me of her coming even before she shows up (the same feeling Peter and the disciples had when the Holy Spirit saturated the room). The sound of her heels as she enters the room affirms of her existence and assures me that I’m not dreaming.

What always makes my morning is you finding my gaze stuck on you at every one of those sweet smile episodes. Throws me back to the first time we met. You always find a way to ignore my eyes that are fixed on you the whole time as you move around the kitchen doing your thing.

I always remain seated in silence, carried away by how you seem to pull off your bold and sexy look every morning.

That kiss as you leave is what sums it all up – love. That’s how I like to spend my mornings.

Oscar