I am concerned church watchdog. I also double as a whistle blower.

Also bear with me.

There people who can never put down their phone. You see them everywhere in the matatus, supermarkets, classrooms , offices and other areas. You will also find them in the church. Always sitting at the end of pew yet they know they are servants of their phone.

Every five minutes they be stepping over the faithful servants of God who came to worship. Saying things like,

“Es-cuse me. Thankyou. Es-cuse please.”


If you must attend to every phone buzz, seat closest to door. Period.

Another breed of people who need deliverance is the fashion critics.

“Bibi ya chairman leo…aii hio nguo apana.”

This is not a runway. Its not a meeting point for the highest ranked models in town to meet up. Its a place of worship where the humble servants of the Lord gather . Oh and by the way, they come from different social classes. Let people worship in peace. People could be struggling with financial crisis , and need a little tenderness.

These people who convert church to a market place. Selling coloured information AKA mushene, dont you fear Jesus ooh? Dont you see what he did to those pharisees who made the temple of God a market place. He channeled the inner GSU in him and beat them mercilessly. There is plenty of time after church for information exchange.

Letting the choir sail alone. Sing with the choir, jump with them , show them life. Some of you be letting the choir sing their lungs out alone and you cant even offer them some water from your perfect dasani bottles. This is habit that needs a demise.

Maruta (contributions). They should be written down and stored with care. Approaching members of the congregation after church saying things like,” I lost the money,” is very suspiscious. How do you loose church money? How does this always happen to specific people? Why was it not announced officially in church? Please , please we are tired.

Which other habits do you think people should quit in church?


I love youtube more than life itself but with the great love of youtube comes the price of buying bundles.

So I purchased the 2GB bundle with a 100 shillings and what do I get , ksh 15.00 telkom bonus and 5 ksh any network bonus.

Such things as this network bonus must take a thorough consideration from the company management.

“Today we must gift a Warukira Hinga somewhere.” The boss says.


“But boss, she doesnt even call she awaits an incoming call. We should give it to someone more deserving” a Warukira Hinga hater interludes.


“We do not judge here… we love our customers for who they are.” The boss is merciful and careful with his words. The boss also knows the mission and vision of the company.


Ding ding a message arrives. I am the lucky winner NIMESHINDA! NIMESHINDA!- I exclaim . They have handpicked me in a sea of other telkom users who also got gifted the same offer.

I actually feel special . They thought of me. Stop it Telkom, stooop it. I mean it, stop.

Yaani, am just here trying to revive my bored day with bundles but my luck is yet to be unleashed.

Firstly, where I come from firstly is good English. So firstly, my friends without the telkom line this is why I don’t call because if I do , how long should the talk be? If I call to speak of the bonus wont the bonus terminate before I even tackle the reason for calling. Say I call my friend(without a telkom line) who sells good dresses , as we indulge in the trade process the kikuyu in me starts to bargain, wont the call cut off and leave her thinking I have agreed to the initial price. You see the risk right?

This is just an appeal, telkom atleast add the kabonus(kabonathi in kikuyu) to ten bob any network bonus or my frens, buy a telkom line. Or my amigos download the IMO app.

P.S, forget the hater I call ALL THE TIME.ALL. THE .TIME.

By the way for those I have gone to school with, I dont see you comment academically- impressive devices used. I love the satire. The dialogue is minimal, improve. Good lead. Use similies and metaphors next time. You have punctuated poorly revise your notes. Something like that.


“Warukira, right?” A voice distracts me from my reverie.

Yes thats me. I’m named after a kikuyu hero. Her tales in the lands of Othaya are told from time to time. It was her kindred heart , her value of the family unit that garnered her the title of a good woman. Her hardwork is without compare -am told she planted arrow roots that were the model example for other lands. She had a super power, she was a good listener. In a world where people take pleasure in speaking non-stop, she chose to be a listener. No-one dares speak ill of her. Her death was a shock. You imagine death would fear to touch heros. You imagine the cup of life and time would be hers for eternity.

I inherited the name Warukira from my grandmother and in her own way she was a superhero , as told by my relatives and her friends.

I speak of her now because I want to caution anyone that I know either by blood, water, socially, economically, enviromentally, voluntary or involuntary, blackmail or no blackmail, expect this-

If you see me somewhere walking or simply minding my business and you come say hallo, I will stop you right there and ask if you have read my blog. If you havent I will stand over your shoulder as you read word by word. Supervised. Why you ask? I have a legacy to follow through. Warukiras are and will be the heros of this nation.

If you try to intervene I will quote the 200 books I have read. I will say, kenya ails because of poor readership. I just made that up.

I will cry real tears and people will think you’ve done me wrong. A mob will gather and I will them force to read. This nation can only prosper from blogs and books. Eh, look at that quote by Warukira herself .

I will go as far as stand in an ongoing traffic and throw printed links of my blog in your faces. Then at night I will disguise myself as robber with a face mask, grab your bags , throw my articles in there and return the bag. By force by fire.

The warukira who preceeded me was a force to reckon when it comes to homily affairs, this 5’2 ft tall light coloured one can read and write, the one after us will be the president.




One, you make a friends with someone. Similar likes, dislikes, you even hate the same person (now this is a stronger bond than love)You think everything is going gucci, its 2019 you know gucci means good right? You like this person so much that you introduce them to your other friends then boom they start hanging out and not inviting you.

Second, you buy a phone with a good camera, you’re pumped the world is yours for the taking. Superman gat nothing on you. You will win the hearts of strangers. You post a pic on social media and only get two likes. Worse still, I get two readers on my blog posts. My 0.00 friends , you traitors!

Thirdly, your are trying to save money. You’ve watched countless youtube videos on how some of the biggest billionares started. Quotes such as today’s investment is tommorow’s future. So that month you carry homemade lunch to work to save lunch money. Before it’s even ten o’clock you’ve eaten all of it and ordered two mandazis and tea. People who don’t even have a plan to be billionares have better self control and wait till lunch to eat their food. You fall off the train.

Fourthly, is there even a word as fourthly? No? Okay I’ll stop using it. You join a betting clique. These people have never lost, they assure you. Surely their good luck must be stronger than your bad luck. You try, you invest more than you have ever invested in your dreams or a relationship. Lets just leave it at woiiii!

Number five, you try to become a fashion icon. Balenciaga socks damn. A brown highlighter on your skin damn. Drawing them eyebrows good. You post a pic with a trending artsy position then boom you are a meme. A brown highlighter is called Kitengela dust. You live in a classy bedsitter netizens ask,” where is the rest of your house?” You buy followers they unfollow you in the middle of the night. God, where to?

Six, you visit upcountry (ocha) people they chocha you unachocheka ati

“Eh, mheshimiwa is here. Toa kakitu”


“Eh mhesh! People like you even know the president. I actually saw someone like you in the gazeti. You know am always rooting for you. Nunua kasoda.”


Such comments virtually place you on cloud nine. You are looking at them with the metaphorical bird’s eye view. You give them money, its not enough. You sell your kidney at the black market. You sell your blood to hospital banks. You please them but still they elect another as their MCA.

I have a friend, Mogonnah is her name and she said if I dont credit her for the title she will hire goons to teach me a lesson. Now that I realize gonnah rhymes with goons. Peace.


I remember we schooled in a primary school where corporal punishment was discipline and not a violation of human rights. Times when kids belonged to the teacher and the goverment. You tell your parent-

“Aki mum leo nilichapwa shule..”

“Eeh wacha mwili ichapwe hio ni ya serikali.” (If your african mother has never told you this, does she even love you?) She responds.

Children were public property. Anyone could whoop your ass as they pleased. You go home crying to your mother and she asks,

“What did you do to be beaten?”

If you are a smart child you get beaten and shut up . If you dare speak out, you are whooped again by your parent.

Now kids are privately owned. You require a permit from the parent to lay a finger on a strand of their hair.

Schools have become a safe haven , a shrine where you can have a parent-child relationship with the teacher. Not long ago the relationship that existed between a teacher and a student was that of a criminal and ICC court.

“Eunice (superficial character) why did you not do the work?”


Its a rhetorical question . Only those with warrior chests can answer.

“Mwalimu, I was not- ”


“You was not what? Did I say you can answer back?”

Somewhere near the staffroom there is a tree. Its home to birds who are witnesses to the war thats happening on Eunice’s body. Loud continous screams follow there after. Birds flee from the tree. The sun disappears in fear. Total silence befalls the whole school. Young hearts pound in fear, one of thier own is suffering in the hands of the enemy.

Teachers were feared creatures. You would rather meet a hungry anaconda sleeping on your bed than meet a teacher. If you went to a boarding school then you must have attended church services with them . With all the nigerian movies I had watched I expected fire to burn the church doors before they walked in. After all, they attempted to take our lives every once in a while (through thorough whooping). They were grave sinners.

Sometimes I felt like the motivational speakers who came to inspire the hero in us were in it with the teachers. Their words of affirmation and inspiration seemed like they fueled the teachers to beat the criminal tendencies out of us.

Treason in school was noise making. This act alone could lead you to be branded all sort of names – empty debes, kayamba africa, master of ceremony. This was equivalent to public flogging. Terms such as phlegmatic, introvert , extrovert are modern personality terms. Otherwise an extrovert is just a fancy term for noisemaker.

School was sometimes contradictory to biblical teachings. The bible said that your body is the temple of God while school said your body belongs to the government. Other times when convinient it followed the bible to the letter especially the part about, spare the rod spoil the child. In our school the rod was never spared. Yet after all this beating I have learnt the best life lessons from an empty pocket and a broken heart.

I have heard things that shook me, information that created earth tremors . Information such as,” I bought my teacher a car.” I can only hope that one day I will be as forgiving and generous.


“Buy those booted heels,” she goes.


“Ummh… #mychoices #doingme #shutup don’t tell me what to do.” I interject.


“Ah wewe your not interesting,” she claps back.


The nerve of this girl. We are walking down the dusty streets of Thika and she can’t even remind me to buy food but the shoes… she remembers.

You would think basic needs would be neccessities but not to Erica, she has not her priorities in order.

I look around for the boots, yes I spot them; gray in colour, inched ,a zip on the side, fluffy neck and homegirl is right- they are fabulous.

Erica is the reason I will not be a billionare anytime soon, that and the fact that blogs require readership. Yes those two factors weigh equally and poorly on my lifetime scale. Before I can reflect much on my choices her mouth alarm goes on-

“Okay, we don’t have to buy let’s go see,” oh reasonable Erica.

Wait , we have been in this ship before. I dont even know how to swim but yet I let her give me a lift on her boat. By the way, we have never just seen a product we always buy.

Erica is the inner rugged chick in me. She loves to breakdance, eat pizza, rap some songs, lowkey wants to buy booted heels, leather jacket, a cap and walk around stringing a guitar. My , she is so amazing.

“Erica, not today woman. I have had enough of your guitar and rap cover songs. I want to save and invest for my bright future #billionarethings. So no, I won’t go and ‘see’ ” I cut her bad plans short.

Few minutes later.


I say,” Aki si this boots look good. I can’t imagine my life without them. Waah heri hivo nimenunua.”

We all have an erica in our lives just check closely.


Bear with me.


So the kid comes in and says-


“Mummy I am sick”


The first kind of parent is unbothered. If your walking , breathing , bending , how are you sick? This kind of parent does not associate with hospitals . Medicine and the parent -two different whatsapp groups. The kid will moan and groan and still , no hospital. If there is ever a time to go to a hospital, is when one is unconscious, or being pulled in a stretcher or difficulty in breathing.

The second parent missed 0.00001 points to join medical school. Their hearts were not broken rather they use the gifts in a different way. Paracetamol for every disease, or in some cases drink boiled water or eat greens on the spot. All diseases; tuberculosis, bloated stomach,PMS, malaria there is a universal cure.

The conversation goes something like


“Mum I just fall off the bicycle”


“Oh my baby, take paracetamol.”


“Hi mum, I just fell off the plane.”


“Don’t worry hunny, just eat greens.”

Greens are not miraculous they will not work in seconds. But to all parents doing this, big up manze , your trying.

The third parent even a sneeze they will ask, is there a specialized doctor on sneezing. They will call anybody they know who owns a car and ask them to prepare incase the condition worsens. For a stomache resulting from bad food they will require an xray, a blood sample and fingerprints. They will take thier kids for ear check up, teeth check up, tongue check up, re-check up. They have a personal doctor AKA daktari give me your number I will call you and tell you the progress. Mind you this a public sector doctor.

The question is what kind of a parent will you be?

Mimi kwanza when I sneeze, chewooh! I start updating status ati, its been fun the short time I have spent here on earth, plan out an eulogy and say that I appreciate those who were there for me. Yes I’m one overgrown baby and thankyou my friends I appreciate you.


Is it a wonder that the modern love crumbles like bread after a few days?

Technology and education are two partners that have changed alot of fields immensely ;labour, minds and love is inescapable from the beaks of change. Throughout history change has been a good thing, there was a time one would have been hunged for what beliefs they shared , Catholic or protestant , now man is judged not but what they believe but what their action say. Change is a good thing whether gradual or fast, it remains a value that has engineered development socialy, environmentaly, politicaly and economicaly.

When it comes to love change has left the least to be desired. Narcissists who feel the need to take from givers because they deserve it. Two genders in opposition with each other , every of them feeling more important than the other by the second, which is rather ironic since we all exist thanks to both genders. Bottom line is, we are all important.

Not long ago, a soulmate used to be God, now a soulmate is a person with 0.00% failure rate in all the fields. Good with them kids, good with them neighbours, doesn’t get upset, always there on time , always there when you need them . Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, attributes that largely describe the Almighty Father. A perfect person who fits in a folder and excels in every checklist, is it really a wonder that relationships fall under the immense pressure?

There is a swahili saying which reads , kila mwanamke ana dosari yake, which easily translates to every woman has a flaw. Men are flawed too. No-one is a software or an object that gets recalled from the market after a survey analysis to fix the failure rate . An instagram filter can filter away the scars of the heart . A like on social media don’t take away the poor communication you have with imediate people . But we can learn , the same way we exel in a foreign language taught to us in school, love and belonging needs to  be a subject incorporated in our every day lives.

Every area in our life requires we know how to engage and associate with people. A foreign language may open doors for international success but the language of love earns you a lifetime of rememberance wherever you go.

The current fate of modern love is not doomed, it just needs an upgrade . Like Albert Ainstein famously said, the problems we are currently facing will not be solved with the same thinking we used whilst creating them , we have to research new methods. It’s all each of us needs to do, engage a new type of thinking in the subject of love and belonging , if we are going to change what we know about the subject, we need to borrow from the eagle and make a mighty fleet after dropping the ideologies that way us down.