There is something about her . . .

. . . she’s delicately seated a few tables away, sipping from divine awesomeness. My camera and I are mesmerized at her feline ways – the lenses zoomed to 1000%.

We’re clicking.

Wondering, maybe we could clique . . .

I get back to the table, my index finger sore at all the snapping; when she reaches out and passes her share of dessert. To me. This girl I’d never met. .

Like a gentleman I accept the [love] offering with a gracious bow – my heart wildly drumming.

How can it not be heard?


Eva – An Epilogue

Start here: Part 1Part 2 and then. . .


Wasn’t I pretty enough?  – a pretty misleading question, because break-ups happen when a guy has no idea what he’s looking for, or the lady, or issues with both, or a lot of other things . . . But I’m no guru, so I let that rest.

Thing is I met up with Eva – after the aftermath [is that even proper grammar?]

Naturally a poetic soul, because whenever her world is floating in a mushy bubble, words march out so expressively, even in the most mundane of conversations; and when backed by that excellent command of language she has, everything she says is poetry.

Except when she’s nursing a break up.

Like now.

I hate it that she’s here again. After all that progress.

Sigh, I even remember the glint in her eyes. Finally a guy, who looks promising! Hope this works out. She had told me.

And now as I ponder, it hits me that her story is quite generic – torn up hearts, dashed hopes, deceit, pain everywhere. .  Makes you wonder when mushy got so messy.

We sit in silence.

Then a conversation springs:

> Do you think a relationship would last longer if the couple doesn’t make love until he puts a ring on it?

But you have to make love first to see whether you’re compatible . . .

Hmm. . Divergent views. We’re sitting in silence again.

Kweli what do you guys do for fun? No drinking?

> No

Making love?

> No.

What about making out?



Now we burst out laughing.

Are we laughing at each other or with each other?

We don’t care. We laugh on.

Eva – part 2

See part 1 here:

On a random cloudy day, she stumbles into a four-piece-mahogany-imitation-dining-table that she had badly wanted to buy.

Some banter with the uniformed sales guy, before noticing how attentive he was, and she starts thinking hmm. . . he’s sort of good looking, maybe two years older, and darn, he’s smart! What he’s even doing in a furniture shop???

She’s not so keen and lets it slide.

But when she finds out he owns the shop, she hopes they will exchange numbers somehow; not because she’s that easily impressed but she figures there’s got to be something special about such a guy.

It’s time to haul her stuff into a hired Hilux waiting outside/

It’s time to offload/

Mr. handsome his boys are doing the heavy lifting to her corridor. Those arms though. .

A fortnight later, he wants to coffee.

Turns out he’s the smooth kind, and has a way of listening, throwing in just the right uhhms and oohs, nodding, shaking his head this way, as the conversation flows. Oh he’s staring into her eyes like they’re the best he’s ever seen.

Eva finds a second coffee too tempting to resist, then fourth and a fifth;

they’re getting more elaborate now. The sixth for instance is dinner at her house. Oh look, now they’re feeding from each other’s spoons, she’s giggling. . she had waited for so long to feel this way again!

The guy has no qualms helping out with the dishes, fixing a dozen tasty meals several dates later.

Now she knows this one is here to stay, and she lets her innocence go yet again.

Then he’s suddenly busy /

now he’s always meeting up with the boys /

their movie nights, dinners all replaced by a thread on Whatsapp, while the strings of her own heart are precariously stretched, parched, aching to feel in-love again if only for one more minute.

But it never comes/

it’s all too familiar, she knows she has to wake up from the reverie/

and start over. Again. Yet again.



Eva – classy, seductive, fun;

with a quiet confidence that unnerves the men she dates.

Unusually smart: she’ll talk about world history, throw in Aristotle, Alexander the Great and punctuate it with the Pyramids of Egypt with astounding eloquence, whenever such topics swivel over. But she’s no nerd, she says, and doesn’t even remotely resemble one.

Underneath her pillow is a 50 shades of Grey novel – the latest sequel.  She has read through 11 Minutes as well. These two, among other steamy content, are her manuals through the loins of men;

who’ve been treated to unforgettable nights, over the last two years, as she tries to forget him;

washing his memories with bottles of Johnnie Walker. Apparently, Johnnie walked into her organized heart, lodged there for a while, before overturning everything he found leaving it in a battery of chaos – no matter how much she tries to paddle back to the oceans of love, she’s always rowing back to the banks of caution;

as she sips her drink, as she sips her drink.

What if another guy comes and hurts me again? Because when she loves, she loves through her pores.

images (6)

Photo credit | Blog Walker Art

But the indulgence is slowly fading.

She’s starting to feel her heart beat again.

The two lovers

She’s a smooth poetess, he’s a writer, a suave charmer.

He dreamt of their words dancing around each other someday, smiling, hitting notes to make a beautiful orchestra.

Phot credit | Img Kid

Photo credit | Img Kid

On some days, it was he – head over heels.

On others it was she.

Their love, swinging on a thermostat – like the sun and moon. Gazing at different times.

The two lovers. . .

Of men and purpose

I struggle reading long posts.

You must be really good to make me stay till the end, like Zulu; or with content that rivets me so much that I’m nodding every few lines, like this man > Wamboye who writes on Christian dating, relationships and marriage. Once in a while I stray to The New Yorker and find a story like A cheater’s guide to love, and I stay right on it. Devoid of the foul language, it’s hilarious, a bit relateable but mostly, like all the blogs I mentioned, it speaks about love.


and masculinity are inseparable cords. An audio captured at a men’s forum, jumped right at me, because it ties these with a more central theme: purpose. Getting it right is the mark of a man.

I put some highlights below acknowledging how flawed I am. The meat is when you listen to it, as mine are just disjointed notes like Wamboye’s. Haya baas!

Source | Good Men Project

Source | Good Men Project


Where purpose is unknown, abuse is inevitable

Microwave men will want progress without process.  If the process is right, progress will be inevitable.

Lazy men refuse to pay the price for their purpose, and purposeless men have never made good husbands. You will either fall in love with comfort, or greatness. You cannot fall in love with both.

You will only birth greatness to the extent of discomfort you want to bear.

Jesus, a man who knew His purpose. .

“I know where I came from and I know where am going. . “ [John 8:14]

“This is why I was born, and for this I have come to the world to bear witness to the truth.” [John 18:37]

“I have brought you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do.” COMPLETING [John 17:4]

Purpose begins with admitting that we belong to God – we are God’s own handiwork. He ingrains our purpose in our inner design

Ignorance of that purpose does not cancel the purpose.

So we must constantly mull at our origin, and ask why we are here. Then again we must constantly mull at at our exit, because

If your exit does not cause us to miss you, your presence was unnecessary in the first place.

You will only remembered for the problems you solved, or the ones you created.


I’m learning that when men are intimate in their walk with God, they will use their purpose for good.

“The proof of your purpose is when you take care of your walk with God more than your work for God.”

Your thoughts? 

The future of public stripping of women in Kenya

The recent violent stripping of women is a case of a low-moral-turpitude-disease that sadly, no legislation can heal.

It manifests itself through carnival appetites of lust toward vulnerable females deemed indecent and makes men do things that would disturb those of the Biblical Sodom who – young and old – shouted: “Where are the man who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them” [Gen 19:5].

In Nairobi they shout: where are the women in short skirts? Show us so that we can rip them apart.


Photo credit | New Vision Uganda

Yet am especially embarrassed at what all this has done to my own mind.

In place of subtle drooling of short stylish dresses, is panic. My usual nonchalant thoughts at the bus stage have been replaced by a cross examination between the now ‘daring’ lady and bus conductors lurking around – I am keener at my gender’s mental calculations and reactions than I have been before. And with all our fixations must be a full blown fear routing the lady as she takes another stride, and yet another – holding her breath.

I cringe at the radio presenter who makes a declaration that there are nasty videos circulating, as she asks listeners to call and give their views – all for airplay. Unknown to her are commuters: men, women and children listening to what just happened in a bus not so different from theirs, by and to people not so different from themselves.

Things that should only be spoken about in hushed tones, only loud enough to make us want to stop the madness.

Photo credit |

Photo credit |

But let it be shouted from the rooftops that this has little to do with indecent dressing, and everything to do with lawlessness.

You don’t think so?

Here’s what some videos show: argument about something mundane > outrage > violent stripping by gangs of men > a moment’s silence to feed off the nude body (here blood flows from the head down, eh. . to a hard on) > then grotesque acts of humiliation.


The future of stripping

  • Men have done the unimaginable – in future, it will be easier to cross the red line whenever an opportunity comes by. The thirst is real. They will want to see and do more.
  • As talks about security enforcement and reassurances by police mill on, future incidences may be faster with the assailants only attacking in locations where they feel secure enough to do the deed.
  • Men will not care much about the plain Janes, but only the dream women they see between the covers of Friday dailies, the classy women they know they’ll never have. They will punish them for being more beautiful, younger and sexier than their wives – their anger actually directed at the women in their lives. Inherent also is a class divide in which the less fortunate are bitter towards any hues of fortune.
  • With time, the wave may spread to rural towns where the number of idle men hanging out in local town centers is innumerable. With the influence of new media, women will want to dress in more exotic garments; with the influence of new media, their men will want to replicate the acts they have seen. Fortunately a woman from Nyeri apparently beat the hell out of a man who tried to strip her recently. Cases like these will deter the wave.
  • There may be a slight shift from maneuvering a convenient night (wife gone/ available room/ extra monies to pay a hooker) to hunting for a vulnerable woman along a dark hidden street. . . May God help her.
  • With the prevalence of new media sharing platforms readily accessible to our children, such nasty incidences may become normal to the kids as they grow.

It will matter how mainstream media spins these stories from now: taking a decisive stand against the misbehavior – even splashing faces of men behind it all. Facebook

It will matter how much enthusiasm we have in sharing these grotesque videos.


The recent actions by the government are good, but members of the public must take the initiative to stop these things as they happen Embakasi Style because no man or woman deserves such public embarrassment, no matter how wronged anyone feels.

Or God will look down from His throne someday and confirm that the outcry against Nairobi has become so great and so grievous . . . [Gen 18: 20].

My, what a dark day that will be.