Of ladies testing their men

I can be a keen listener (licensed eavesdropper) when I want. It's a partial gift to compensate the fact that I'm short sighted. However, this isn't about how I have ears better than my eyes. This is about what I heard and this wasn't the first time I heard about such a thing. It wasn't the second, the fifth or the twentieth time I was hearing about girls (or women if you've matured enough to take 'girl' as offensive) taking a huge risk with their relationships. It wasn't the first time I heard about a lady sending her friend to 'test' her man.

Let me first explain what happens in such a situation. A lady, call her Eve, sends her friend, call her Jezebel, to test and see if her boyfriend (Eve's boyfriend), call her Ronald, really loves her or will easily fall for another woman's trap. This is not always the case. A lady may do the same thing just for entertainment. Others will do the same just to prove to their other friends that her man really loves her and no one else. They never mind if the guy already knew the ladies are friends but sometimes may send a friend that the guy doesn't really know. In some cases, they send their sisters for the same test. I have to ask: what is wrong with you ladies ????

What if your guy needed such an opportunity to free himself from you? What if your friend and your boyfriend have been eying each other for long till you decided to give them a chance? A legal chance. What if your sister has something to offer that you don't? Oh, yeah. Coming from the same womb doesn't mean offering the same 'goods'.

Remember you came up with the test. How your 'students' do it doesn't matter. You just need the results. What if they end up cuddling? What if they end up sleeping together? What if they enjoy it? What if your man enjoys her sex more than your love making? What if your sister finally gets a guy that understands her well. What if your best friend decides to stay because he can please your man better than you do. What if your man finds a lady that knows what his sexual needs are? What if you deliver the perfect package to your man, in the name of testing him?

Fine, you might be thinking it's not always possible for someone to just up and leave her longtime girlfriend. What if they continue sleeping with each other behind your back? Will you live with the fact that you once sent temptations to your man? Well, I'm just trying to show you that there is no good end to such a situation. No matter how you'll try to justify this, it is just wrong. It's stupidity.

By the way, I won't lie to you. We, men, will make the most out of it. We will take the test as a bachelor's party. You just gave us a free pass to new green pastures. It's simply a crime with a free get-out-of-jail ticket. How will Ronald resist Jezebel, surely! Jezebel and Ronald. Mmmmh ... I wonder how that relationship will be. :-D

However, that's not my point. If you're tired of your man, try this. You'll be 'testing' him while he's 'tasting' your friend/sister. It's probably the best way to end a relationship (to the man): you single and miserable with regrets but him with a brand new girlfriend, delivered at his doorstep, I mean bed, by yours truly.

Follow me on Twitter: @theRonaldRotich

Are We Wrong?

When I get things wrong. When you get things wrong. When we get things wrong.

I get up with the thought that I've really hurt you. I get up to texts of how badly you're hurting. I get up blaming myself for whatever is wrong between us. I wake up to pain prolonged from last night. I wake up to you happy. I wake up to you smiling. I wake up to you happy with your new love. I got it all wrong.

You wake up to none of his texts. You wake up to a clear phone screen. You wake up to no calls. You wake up to no texts. You wake up to no "GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL" whatsapp messages. You wake up all alone. You wake up without him by your side. It was just sex. It was calculated lust. You got it all wrong.

We blame ourselves for other's pain. We think we're in love. We think it's our fault they left. We think we gave it our best. We think we're better apart. We do everything to stay that way. We do everything to anger each other. We do everything to push each other away. We think we're not in love. We think we won't hurt after weeks. We think time will heal us. We got it all wrong.

This is for all the wrong decisions we made.

R.I.P Rachel Sanga

Last night I dreamt about you. It was a very wide dream with most of my aunts, my high-school mates, my campus mate and you. I don't know how that came to be but it was a lovely dream simply because you were alive, once more.

It was an ordinary working day, at our Kapkei village. We were from the farm and as usual it was time to feed. My aunts had prepared enough food for a few of me and my classmates. I then remembered that I'm supposed to pick some chapati & cooked bananas from a friend. I decided to ditch the boys. But I still needed something to carry the food. I needed a tin. You had a tin. You were alive, once more. 

You were always a good neighbor. A hardworking one I must say. You struggled with being a single mother and did everything to try and provide for your family: Chela, Kim, Kiprop and Cheru. It was a heavy task. I don't know but it looks like a heavy task. Most single mothers can agree to that. But in my dream you were happy. They had all been taken care of. You were alive, once more.

Before lending me your tin, you had to tell me a story. That was the condition. As usual I was impatient because of the hunger but I still listened to you. We laughed and laughed till I forgot about my hunger. You were really happy. You were really joyful. I can still remember your smile when you came to our home. It was glowing. You were alive, once more.

I can't thank you enough for the times my siblings and I ate at your place. From the ugali, rice, chapatis, juice, soda, mboga kienyeji, mursik and even the mkarango we enjoyed when we were still kids. We can't thank you enough for the many times you were there for us as your neighbors. They were various instances. So many that I can't even count. You were always there for us as we grew up. I wish you were still with us. I wish you were alive, once more.

This is dedicated to my late neighbor, Rachel Sanga. We still love you. REST IN PEACE Mama Kim.

Follow me on twitter: @rontich

End Of Campus Party - Buruu

It was a Monday. But not any other Monday. You know it's a special Monday because it's the last Monday before you start your exams. It's a Monday to be serious & start looking for class notes you didn't have. It's time to collect group works of other groups and study them. It's the last Monday before the last exams of my 8-4-4 education.

The seriousness expected on such Mondays is beyond the normal serious Monday at a court house. It's a Monday to step up your studying. It's a Monday to step up your copy-paste material & version. If it was version 1.013. It's time to shift to version 1.014. It's a generally serious Monday. But here we were, an End of Campus House Party and bonding.

This wasn't that normal house party. It wasn't that bring a mzinga for every 2 people you come with. It wasn't that house party. It was a family house party. It was about the family you've made throughout your 4 years or 3 years of your campus life. It was a neighborhood party. You cherish such parties because of that one neighbor.

That one neighbor that you once borrowed salt from. That one neighbor that you once borrowed sugar. That one neighbor that you once borrowed tea leaves. That one neighbor that you once borrowed a packet of condoms. That one neighbor that you once lit a spliff with. That one neighbor that you once had a boner for. That one neighbor that you once thought would look so much better with the lights off. That one neighbor.

We partied. It was lovely. We ate. We drunk. We laughed. It was a memorable party.

This post is dedicated to Biko (you are a badass at slaughtering chicken), Willy & his girl (mkiwa hakuna kupanic mambo na food), Martha (thanks for the kuku), Chege (always high but we never know what you're using), Eugene (thanks for the accommodation), Koi (nunua mattress refu kukushinda), Winnie (congratulations on obeying God's command; go to the world and multiply) ... and all other people I haven't mentioned. Thanks so much. I cherish such memories.

Follow me on Twitter: @theRonaldRotich 

Happy St. Patrick's Day; with memories

St Patrick's Day. Daaaaamn man. I don't even know where I'd start. This day is a special one. Very special to a certain species of human beings. It's a special day recognized by them saints. It's a special day for a Patrick. It's a special day for every St. Patrick's High School - Iten old-boy. (Alumni if you like.)

The first thing that hits me on this day is a whole collection of all the crazy memories I ever made in St. Patrick's High School - Iten. Commonly known as "Saints", we usually made a set of crazy memories. Year after year, every final class would make crazy memories, imprinted on their skins, hearts, minds etc. It was a time for us to make our own coded memories. It was our turn.

I remember the mahindi choma fest at the farm. That was a crazy day. Before we go any further, ever felt like whatever you simply did in high school requires a lot of weed or alcohol in the current world? Yeah, me too. Anyway, we visited the farm, found some mahindi 'mbichi ya maziwa'. Best mahindi choma. We roasted them and ran for our own lives away from the farm. Not because there were snakes or anything but because of being discovered by some teachers.

I remember eating special on all St. Patrick's Days during my stay at Saints. Year after year, we would take a break from the normal ugali + cabbage + coffee + avocado and eat something special. I have to warn that there are different definitions of special. Our special meal was rice + beans and maybe pork. That's a special meal for every 17th March. And we loved it. (Don't judge!) We ate & made stories. We talked for long, laughing at each others pork piece. We looked for those students with allergies and couldn't eat pork. We hunted for their pieces and quarrelled over their share. It was a crazy night every year. We would then go to sleep, happy to be a Saint.

I can't really say Saint Patrick's High School made all of us better but it built us from little kids to a family of brothers. Brothers that would live in peace. Brothers that would fight. Brothers that would unite & work. Brothers that would unite & sneak. Brothers that would be divided by academic performance. Brothers that would be united by football talk. We were true brothers. We were one family.

Just wanna wish y'all a marvelous St. Patrick's Day. Long live the green army.

Follow me on Twitter & Instagram: @theRonaldRotich 

Dj Joe Mfalme is a fraud! A FRAUD!

“…ladies and gentlemen, the original, creator of the ******, SHE GONE DO HER THING, remember this forever. No one can do it better. You better recognize. SHE’S JUST GONE BLOW YOU AWAY! And you know this men! Men! Men!”and it continues.  

If you haven’t heard this by now then you are from the planet Pluto. The scratch (scratch being a dj term ) studded intro that has locally been known and perceived to be Mfalme’s  as fate would have it is not his.  It’s what writers would call plagiarism of the utmost insert adjective.

An American Dj by the name DJ SHORTEE came out guns blazing claiming Dj Joe Mfalme and Crème de la crème stole her intro. As Kenyans we defend our own. See the comments on her Facebook post. So I went on a run to get to the core and guess what. Joe is a FRAUD Crème is just a victim of circumstance.

 Dj Shortee Mix <<<<< listen to that and get any Joe’s mix that u have on your hard drive and compare. Let’s start by giving credit to where its due, Dj Joe Mfalme is a good editor if he does the editing that is. His mastery of Sony Acid the software he uses to produce the mix tapes cannot be questioned. Other than the “she” vocals that persist he does a pretty good job on it.

Take notes.

1.       This is theft

2.       Before you comment and expose your intelligence  or lack thereof do your research

3.       This is unbecoming of a Mfalme a respected person in the music industry.

4.       Dj Shortee is of her own class, take it from me when I say she is a legend, a master cancel all that she is the queen of the decks. Challenge if u can.

5.       If she were to sue hell would break loose.

There you have it. So what do you think? Should Kenyans expose Dj Joe Mfalme just like they did with Octopizzo, another fraud?

By @DjLorc