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Village Weddings and Food Strategies

3 idiots wedding village weddings kenya

They say you can get a villager from the village. But the village from the villager,  that’s a different issue altogether. Meet Kiarie. Village weddings, Kwa Nguku village, Nakuru County.

Back in the village, it’s the rice that matters in wedding ceremonies. What else do you gain from weddings? The bride is not yours, the bridegroom is not yours, the bridesmaid is your sister, other bridesmaids are too young for your age. The one that seems a little bit mature you hear is from Nairobi. She has this kacity accent whose origin you cant fully comprehend. She refers to God as Guard. Ati

“oh my guaaard its beaurifu”

And you are wondering si aseme tu oh my Goood!! Alaaa!! I think she thinks she has made it in life.  Self-actualization.  Haha.  She has this kiguy (I think he is also from the city) all over her.  They don’t do Swahili.  English is their main. They keep on whispering tuthings to each other and laughing. I think he is trying to make a statement here. You, therefore, have no option but rice. Cake is for the chosen few whose parents and the cake matron know each other.


Rice is served after the official union of groom n bride.  They are supposed to hold hands all the way from that moment to their honeymoon. With the brides gown-tail on the groom’s shoulder.  As they leave for a photo session to one of those gardens in your village that is used by all new couples in town, you line up for what brought you here. It’s what takes you to weddings. Rice. It’s now your area of expertise.

You line up among the first ten or so guys so that it will give you ample time to work on your plate and still go back for a second share on time. You are holding two plates just in case the line ends and you are not done with your plate for round two. Students from Lower Subukia C.D.F self-sponsored Jitegemee P.T.A secondary school (Esther Joj‘s  school) call it paper two.

In case you still make it on time,  paper 3 will be an added advantage. Tripple blessings. There is a person on the other end of the Sufuria serving everyone.  You tell them that one plate belongs to your grandmother sitting in church. Ati she is too old to come to the line.  Deep inside,  you are laughing because your grandmother lives five counties away.  She is probably winnowing millet with not a clue of where you are.  You find a secluded place, set one plate aside. Hidden. Hold on the other to start working on it. Then you decide to first find your best friend Kiarie. You need to show him your prowess in dealing with matters food. Set the plate next to the other safely hidden and leave.

High table.

In such a wedding,  there are people and then there are very important people. People serve where you have just come from. V.I.P have their place.  A table set aside specifically for them. They call it High Table. Here, the bridal party, relatives of the spouses and ‘Men of Guard’ are served. This table is no ordinary place. Children are supposed to stay 400 metres away. Elections style. Here they eat like kings and queens. All kinds of food you have ever wished for. Masquerading as a member of the bridegrooms family, Kiarie the genius has his plate full of these goodies. You have no prowess to brag about now. The guru himself ousted you on your own game. You want to pick a plate as well and pull a Kiarie stunt as well. The high table matron has something different for you though,

“Kijana hii ni ya bridal party na familia. Yenu iko ire pade igine” she says.

You want to add that you are the cousin to the nephew of the bride’s grandmother’s son’s but she adds in finality;

“Si wewe ni wa mama gatheca ule wa makaa?! “


Saitaaan!! You walk back to where Kiarie is and lead him to where you left your two plates but Alas!! Except for the bones on the ground, evidence of someone having had a sumptuous meal minutes ago,  there are two empty plates safely tucked behind the leaves.  Some boys from the village are standing some metres away looking at you. They look suspicious.  That’s all you can say about them.

All is not lost though.  The devil is a liar. The people’s line has not ended. You pick yourself up fast and join it.

“Wewe hujakula wewe? Si nilikuona hapa na sahani mbili?” The lady serving asks.

You hurriedly explain to her how you had to give your second plate to a guuka who was sitting next to your grandmother. She praises your selflessness.  She says you deserve two plates.

Whaaaat!! Kiarie gotta here this.

Misery just went a notch higher

You pick up a second plate before she changes her mind. You hurriedly brush the praises off saying its part of social responsibility. And anyone in your shoes could have done the same. Deep inside you still have a grudge with those boys. If only you could have evidence of their involvement in bringing you misery. Then you look at the Sufurias.  Empty apart from one.  The one with cabbages. That’s the only thing everyone in the line is being served.

“Msijali hio harusi ingine tutapika mingi.”  She says.

Your legs are now shaking.  A tear is quickly forming on your left eye.  You shrug it off fast.  No strength left in your limbs. The reality is hitting hard on you. You didn’t see this coming. It’s your turn to get served.

“Heh! Kijana wetu. That was heroic of you. Advice vijana wenzako… ” You, however, cant even hear what she is saying. You place the plates on the table instead…

“Ama wacha tu.” You say as you leave the line. Downcast is an understatement. You feel defeated.

Walk of shame

Go to check on Kiarie see if he will give at least some bite of what he has left on his plate. He is on his last chunk of meat before dropping the plate on the ground. He says he wants to mourn with you. The serious grumpy face you put on cannot help though. He bursts out laughing. First bits then uncontrollable. He has one statement for you amidst the laugh. You know the situation is funny. You could laugh too. only the victim today is you. So you just look at him.

“Enyewe siku ya nyani kukufa miti yote huteleza…hahahaha” He says as he signals you that its time to go home. You agree with him. The activity that brought you here just disappointed you. So you walk towards the church gate. Thinking of whose wedding is next. Then you look at Kiarie.:

“Ata sijaskia vibaya by the way”

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The Pregnancy Resolve ; Christian Judges

(Based on a true story (Extended). I started this story off as a poem. the words could not stop coming so I changed it to a story. Enjoy. I hope we learn)


She stands among the congregation. She Watches, praying, counting. Counting days before it leaps out. Leaps into the beautiful world. Her bundle of joy. Within, she can hear him. He kicks. She can feel his games inside. The way he kicks, he probably will be a drummer. Probably resolve to be a footballer, a biker maybe. He kicks on. She can feel his laughter, his cries. She counts on. Days,  months…

Little does the angel know. Deep within, She’s scared. Confused. Sad and glad in equal measures. Excited about the life within her, Sad what the world will think of her. See she has been a worshipper all along. She has led worship. People were moved. She has led worship and His presence came down. She has led worship and people came to Christ. Her voice, heavenly. Her words, touching. Then everything happened. So fast.

Where It All Started

He came to church. He complimented her voice. This guy; handsome.  Strong. Handsome again. Coffee, lunch date, lunch date after church. Days as these more… And now this!! A life within. She has acknowledged her sin. Countless times. She’s repented countless times. She cries more than prays these days. No longer leads worship. She can’t find the strength They can’t tell why neither does she. They’ll soon find out. That’s her worry. God already forgave her. He even forgot her sin. Will they? She knows them. Hasn’t she been among them?

The Pain

She lifts her hands to worship. The strength is not enough. Worry weighs it down. She cries The way they look at her, She feels like they can see the life inside. The holy spirit encourages her. Strong again. She’s about to lift her hands to the lord again. She stops midway. He kicked again. They look at her as if they can hear the kicks. The thought weighs her spirit down. She composes herself back. Shes just afraid. She closes her eyes…

“Lord Jesus…. I ”

She rushes out fast. To the washroom. She just felt like throwing up. She cries.

“Why? Do I deserve this Lord!! Why?!”

The pain tears her heart out. The angel within is no problem. The society is. A worshipper is with child.

“Whaaat?!”  “Like really?” “Is she?” “These Christians though. Pretenders. And the way she pretends to be in spirit?”

Her friends too… They’ll disassociate with her. Talk behind her back. Laugh. Point. Use her as an example.

The Resolve

She leaves the washroom. Decided. She knows what to do. This pain comes to an end today. She picks her bag on the pew she was sited. Hurriedly leaves the building. The holy spirit tells her out of the thought. She is already decided though. It’s simpler than all the pain and anguish. The misery. It’s not worth. Her heels click as she walks out. All eyes are on her. They look at her as the sinner she is. She cares no more. Let them think as they please. Today’s their last day.

She crosses the road fast towards town. A thought rushes through her mind to throw herself onto the road in front of a fast-moving lorry. She brushes it off… She’s a determined woman. Nothing will deflect her mind from her resolve.

The Announcement

Wednesday 4.PM. Home fellowship. The Bishop has an announcement. They all know it though. Just as a matter of norm.

“Brothers and sisters… Moms and dads…  it is with deep sorrow… Anguish even…”

Words and words depicting sadness. Tears roll down their eyes. They can’t believe it.  How? Murmurs and whispers go round the congregants. It’s rumoured she used a knife. Stubbed her neck. Others say it’s her heart.  How could she resolve to such an action? She can’t answer though.  She is dead. Little do they know.  They killed her.

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Matatu Musings; Seeing Through His Eyes


Thika Town.  6.00am. God.

I alight from the boda guy that ferried me from my place to here. Manchester travellers Sacco matatu stage.

There are passengers all over the place.  There is a rusty matatu with a board scribbled Nairobi on it.  Either the many passengers around cant see it ama there’s just something wrong with it. I join the many who don’t board the rusty Matatu. It is old and written off. It has a tired look save for the tattered seats in it. Like it feels unsafe. You could board it only to get to Allsopps and it coughs its last cough before dying of age and fatigue and you have to walk all the way to town. Or board a kiGithurai bus and get to work when others are closing off for the day. It’s 6 A. M anyway. still early. The safari to work is usually 1 hr 30 mins in the morning so I still got time.  Right? There’s a tout screaming his heart out.

“Commercial mia, Nairobi wawili,  Tao Soo”

His screams fall on deaf ears though. The matatu only needs two passengers then it hits the road. We are more than 20 just onlooking. It takes a whole 15mins before 2 passengers board the mat and off it goes.

At this point, my mind wanders off into thought. Away from the usual Gustochronicles. God. You seek him asking for a way out. You bring yourself all the way to his presence.  He provides a way out for you. It doesn’t look like him. It’s rusty.  Old.  Written off. This cant be God’s way. Si God is glamorous. Ama? He even goes an extra mile assumes you cant see it and sends a person. Your preacher maybe to tell you that this is what will ferry you to your blessings. But his messenger is treated to a deaf ear. So you sit there and wait for God and wonder why He is taking too long to answer your prayers. You even start complaining. Your time ticks. Someone comes,  snatches your opportunity,  your blessing and runs with it.  You are still wondering why people r getting to their blessings fast while God is keeping you.

Now here’s the catch. Manchester Sacco has these popular 18 seater matatus popularly known as Beaverline. Apparently, this is what all these onlooking passengers want to be ferried to Nairobi in. Not the old-looking tired and rusty mats.  They always look like you could sit on the back seat and get left behind once the vehicle hits a pothole

The next matatu is a Kibeaverline. Passengers scamper. Push their way to the mat before it is even parked well… You could think it is the last vehicle and your job security depends on it. It is pushing and shoving. Pulling… Less than a minute and the Beaverline is full. Nairobi bound.


Its the same with God. He provides a way for your neighbour. And you think to yourself…  Phew… My time has come. This is now Gods way for me.  You can even feel it. Thanksgiving all the way to the matatu. Only God did not intend this for you and so that path is closed before you even think of taking it. Off the blessings leave you there. They were not yours. This was not God’s plan for you. The complaining again. Blaming God for not working over your life.

6.30 a.m. I wait any longer and am late for work. Come in another karusty Matatu…

Ooooohhh. Nooo….

Second Chances

See God is a God of second chances. You ignore him the first time, he will still come again. A second and a third time. And another. Same path, same opportunity. You have a choice to yourself. Take the rusty route, the not so popular one, the uncomfortable one to your destination or wait. Wait for your neighbour’s path and try pushing and shoving to take their place. Remember you could still miss out on the same. Secondly, their destination could be different from yours.


Here, we need to pray. That God gives us the spirit of discernment. That we’ll know what’s ours and what’s not. That we will clearly hear his voice leading us. That God will help us lead obedient lives. Whether the paths He provides are rusty or not, we shall follow. Happily. Contented. Knowing that He is God. He tells us that His plans are not our plans (Isaiah 55 vs 8.) As high as the sky is from the earth, so are his plans from ours.(vs 9) Remembering also that the Lord has great plans for us. Plans for a future and a hope. (Jeremiah 29vs11)

I still get to work. A little late going by the time the matatu took to get passengers. My boss is eyeing me with those “I saw what time you came in” eyes… And am looking back with “At least it’s an hour before the time you usually come in. How comes you are early today?” eyes.  Let the eye game continue.


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Village Butcher Gives Life To Christ

Donkey meat-

Last Sunday was historic. One of the Sundays my village church and my church pastor especially will always remember.Githingi gave his life to Jesus.

This brings me to Githingi. Githingi is our local butcher. If you remember well, I come from one of those villages where each member is known by everyone. Those that own Shops and other businesses in the area are the affluent and most prominent. They have a special place in the leadership of the community. This is not, however, trying to say my village is somewhere in shags interior. Am just saying we are one of the few closely knit communities in the country.

Our village is developed. Muchina General Merchants is where we charge our mobile phones from. His is the only building with access to electricity. From our place, you don’t walk for long before you get to the tarmac. Just some miles. Fairly developed. C.D.F also saved us when they erected a big kifloodlight at the centre of the village. It lights our way up from stage to your home.

Githingi owns the only butchery in the vicinity. Thus he is well-known by every villager. Children to adults. Most of his clients are the business owners. They carry meat home almost daily. We the village members visit him during important days such as when Maraga is making a ruling. Or when Chebukati is announcing the winner. In other days, once in a while especially the few first days of the month when the pockets are itching, we treat ourselves. Our pastor was one of his prominent customers. Either he got free meat from Githingi ama he uses our tithes and offering to buy his chunk. We have not seen him there since Sunday though.

Another reason Githingi is well-known is due to his character. Part of the reason our pastor gives for visiting him often is that he has tried to win his soul to Christ.

Githingi has a crazy appetite for women. His energy for women is way above average. His taste makes it worse. He is inclined towards married women. Particularly those that seem to have added a little weight especially on the back side. This is Ironical going by his slim body and few pieces of flesh covering his bones. Rumour has it that when he takes off his shirt, his back seems to have a hump due to the visible bones protruding out. Some say he is H.I.V positive with his appetite for women and his wanting weight. He has been in several fights with the women’s husbands. He has a way to pull himself out of their grip. I think he pays up with chunks of meat.

Sunday. 10.30A.M. The praise and worship team is leading the congregation to Christ through their melodious voices and uplifting songs.

“Ihiga ria tene mah! Nigwihiitha hari weee….”

Wagaceru, our Pastors wife, is particularly moved. She is lifting her hands up. Tears rolling down her eyes as she cries out to the Lord. Mr Wangombe the choirmaster is seated. He seems deep in thought. Like he is thinking about his past week and his walk with the Lord. Mwangi’s voice can be heard from a far distance. He is praying for his wife. Does he have one? No. He is praying for one. Mwangi is a milk vendor at the village. At some points in his prayers, he throws in two-three words in the language of the spirit. People say he is not genuine with his praying in tongues. Ati he copies what he hears others say. He particularly turns up his volume when praying in tongues and comes down with his normal prayer for his wife.

Then the pastor stood up. Pastor Mahungu. Everyone went silent.

“Baba wa majeshi, Mungu wa Miungu…. Nitwacokia Ngaaatho……”

He led in his normal prayer. We are used to the same words every Sunday. Children actually pray together with him word by word. He has been our pastor for the last 13 years. Then he summoned us to sit down before pulling out his Bible to preach vehemently for the next one hour. People started opening up their bags taking out their notebooks. Murmurs here, Whispers there, Sounds of zips opening and closing.

All over sudden, it was all silent. Pin drop silence. I looked up from my Phone (I was using the Bible App LOL) to find out what exactly had gone wrong. Am not used to such kind of silence. Alas!! Githingi had come out of nowhere. He walked up the aisle all the way to where Pastor Mahungu the Rt Reverend was. He was whispering something to Him. The church was curious. The village sinner had come to church. Men were silently pulling up their necks checking on the women’s side searching for the whereabouts of their women. Their wives. Some women were hiding their faces. Others were visibly worried. Then the pastor started speaking….

” Halleluyah!! Today is a great day…”

Phewks!! The women looked up.

Pastor Mahungu looked happy. Excited is an understatement.

“Praise the Lord. Good news comes to Our church today. Our brother Githingi wants to give his life to Christ….”

Ululations started from the back. Jubilation everywhere. Left-right and Centre. The men were specifically overjoyed from the noises that could be heard.

“Heh Atreast WaKamau wakwa niekuhorera. Nithengiu mwathani!!” (Heh! Thank God my Wakamau will now calm down) Mathenge wa makara was overheard saying.The choirmaster started a song from the back.

” Kuna kitu leo nyumbani mwa baba” everyone joined in.

The men walked to the front hugged him welcoming him to the Kingdom of Light. It was merry. The youth joined the singers at the front in song and Dance. Joy filled the air. The next one hour was song and dance.
The pastor decided that was enough for the day. We needed not the word of God today and that the service would end with a prayer for Githingi and him testifying of how he had left the kingdom of the dark.

Rt Pastor Mahungu led in the prayer. Church members Said Amen in agreement after every of the pastor’s statement. Some, Amen” Some “Ndio baba.” “Sande yes” was Mwami’s kibwagizo. After a 15mins Long prayer, It was Githingis time to testify:

“Bwana Yesu asifiwe, Kwa majina naitwa Githingi na leo nimemkubali bwana Yesu kama mwokozi wa maisha yangu…”


“Lakini kabla niketi, niko tu na confession kadhaa ambazo nahisi moyoni siwezikosa kuguzia”


“Sitataja wamama wa kanisa hii nyinyi wote mnajua huo upande wangu na umepita kutoka leo. Wazee mjihisi sasa salama kwasababu mimi ni kiumbe kipya.” He started.


“Nataka kusema nimekuwa miaka kadhaa sasa nikiwauzia nyama ya punda Monday. Tuesday nilikuwa naleta nyama ya dogi. Zile mbwa hupotea huku mimi ndiye nmechukua kadhaa ata ile iligongwa na gari last week.”

Pin drop silence. The pastor started speaking in tongues…

“RIMASHAKANTALABBAZIKANTA…..” Githingi went on unmoved.

“Ire mutura nyi hupenda pare, mrisikia paka ya wakiragu iripotea, mingi huwa ya paka. Ndio maana huwa mnaskia ikiwa na chumvi natural hivyo…”

“SHAKANTALALALAZIKANTOROBOO….” The pastor went on. By now it was all silence in the church with most women holding their hands close to the heart…

“Ningependa kuendelea wandugu na wadada lakini kwa ajiri ya muda sitaendelea kuhusu zile nyama za frog nawauziaga kama gizzard…. Lakini kutoka leo nimebadilika ntaanza kuleta ngombe na mbuzi juu sikuwa nazo kwa stock yangu. Asanteni”

The Church was silent for the next one minute or so. Githingi sat, said his last prayer and left. Mama Msoh a vicious customer to Githingi was next after him. She left holding her stomach. One by one people left. Visibly disturbed by the testimony.

The pastor was still at the front when everyone left. Still speaking in tongues…. I felt his pain especially since I used to see him at the butchery almost daily. When I left, He was still praying.

The Aftermath

I visited the butchery Yesterday. Deserted cant really describe the place that once was the heartbeat of our village. Since Monday, he tells me he has made sales to only two customers. I had to buy something to promote his business. I gifted it to Kiarie.

“Rakini Gusto me sijali. Nirigive roho yangu kwa Mungu na yeye Shetani akaingia. Haya mambo ni Majaribu tu yataisha,” Githingi told me.
I nodded in agreement as I left the premise towards the village mama mboga.

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My encounter with a Nyeri woman

Face me Matatu

The Symon

Nyeri Woman. For those of you who know Ts well, You will agree with me that you can spot a Nyeri man as you walk the paths of wherever you are. Using TS as my case study, I will tell you features of a Nyeri man. That is if men from that part of our beautiful nation will agree with me. If not, that only confirms my doubt about Ts and manhood haha.

Anytime you see Ts, he either has his hands somewhere in front of his trousers or has a bag hang hiding the same place. Ts has a high regard for women. I put it as that because I don’t want to say he fears them.Anytime you catch Ts in the midst of women, he seems like a cock that has come from a heavy downpour. Let me leave Ts as at that for now.


I went to visit Ts last weekend at his rural home. Somewhere between Karatina and Nyeri Town. Seeing him for business matters was the reason I used for the visit. I, however, wanted to confirm whether what I hear about Nyeri women is true. Back in campus, T.S says he lives in Town. Speaks with this heavy English accent throwing in Sheng and English slang terms in his conversations. Only his Rs and Ls sometime seem to conflict.

Well, brothers and sisters, today I want to assure you that from TS’ place to Nyeri town, Mwathani!! You know you just go and go. And when you are done going, you continue going. You go, brothers and sisters, Telkom and its free WhatsApp vanish… you go on… go go go go… until Safaricom network is not available. Once this happens, walk another 4Kms and you are at his place… The only matatus there are these long gone face me pick up mats. Rusty is an understatement.

Nyeri Mama

In one of these is where I met my Nyeri Mama. Nyeri Woman. Short, plump with a behind bigger than the future of Kenya’s Judiciary system. She sat on the face me matatu bench directly opposite mine. With the ban of plastics, I took her Kiondo for the replacement. It was old though. Beaten by age and dirt. When she came into the matatu, I was the only passenger. Well, she was good-looking I’d say. Curves and edges especially. She seemed heavy though. When she sat on the opposite side I felt like the van was going to overturn to that side.

“Hi…” she waved. Cheeky smile. As if she was inviting me to something more. Good Lord. Are these those that met Wacu at the shamba?

“Hi… Good evening. How are you?” I drained down all the English accent I have copied from TS. She seemed flattered. With this direction of talk and the smiles am now receiving, I might as well forego seeing Ts today.

“Am well. Am Stella. My friends call me S.T.L.” She said.


“Wow… Nice name. Am Gusto. My friends call me G.S.T” I responded trying to make fun.

The smile faded away. Wololo mwathani!! sasa kiherehere ilikuwa ya nini? Si I could just have given her all my names in one kisentence. I still don’t get it why people laugh. But this could have worked out here. Sasa izi ni nini nimejiletea? Nkt!! The silence was now disturbing. I had just lost a chance for meaningful engagement with a Nyeri lady. And from the look of things, this was headed somewhere. You never know. God could use such a matatu to bring good tidings to your life. Right? I thought for ages how to break the ice that had now solidified into stone. As I was busy drooling over what to say, she looked up.

Hell Breaks Loose

“Mimi by the way hutu tumat, I don’t board them. I usually take an Uber. Am headed to my grandma’s place. I live in Nairobi. I work at K.R.A. We work with D.J Moh there. He is the secretary and me, me I am just officer for bribing. They usually send me to go and teach some classes. You know they gave Githeri man a Job? And me I am the one who had cooked that Githeri and they did not call me…”

Her English was fast pacing away from her. I could feel her struggles within. She wanted to make an impression. The English slowly failing her. By now, I couldn’t get what she does let alone where she does it. Worse still, Dj Moh anaingilia wapi na usecretary? None of my business though. She went on.

“Even Chris brown usually visit with Minjiminji for Kirinyaga. Last week, they gave Maraga a standing aviation for ruling Uhuru won.”

Jehova!! Aviation?

“Even me I sit in supreme court with Phiromena Muilu. They usually pay me a lot of money to advise them. I have not bought a car because my driver lost with my first one….”

My eyes get opened

Lost as you are, I could now see how beautiful she wasn’t. Her dress was torn somewhere on the waistline. She had fingernails that seemed to have seen manicure during world war 2. Her eyelashes were something by themselves. With the invent of eye shadow and eye pencil, Hers must have been something close to eye ghost and eye charcoal. Her feet seemed to have undergone a sad phase in life with one following the bow-legged angle and the other not sure where to point at. Her one foot had a flat shoe while the other had the other pair. Only this other one was high-heeled. Ask me about it.

By now, my smile had long vanished. Wishing that she either stops talking to me lest someone comes and finds me engaging such and takes my ego down. As I wished for this, Another Nyeri woman boarded the matatu. She was also carrying a kiondo. She sat on the side that I was sitting. At least I felt the kamat balance towards my side. Then she noticed the lady still talking to me smiling.

“Aaaaaa… Ciku, ni wewe?!! Heh! Na umepotea. Unajua tangu upate ire miiba ya piri ya Ndegwa sijawahikuona tena. Kazi ya makaa inakupereka aje? Na huyu ni nani? Ama ndiye baba ya mtoto wa tatu. Unajua wewe na wanume mnaperekanaga hifi…”

She waved her hand with her pointing and middle finger crossed together. Ciku nodded as if in agreement. Then she looked my way.

“Habari yako kijana?”

Jeeeesu!! This is going to be one long ride.

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Nyaguthie is Officially Taken. Me Too

am a unicorn


Lakini some vibes r just so lame. Whereas that is true, there still are some sane ones. Say for instance, i cant live without you. That’s correct depending on the tone, environment and audience. This has always worked for me until the day the laugh of my life nyaguthie left me for a half-baked university graduate with money inherited from his late father. she said she is now Taken. Issokay. I have since moved on.
Memories of the day have never departed from my mind though. We had just come from church.

“leo ukidrum nliona ukiangalia ciku ure wa mama kahuthu.” She started.

The tone and eyes I was treated to told me the long-awaited day had come. I have seen the way she smiles when a text comes in from ‘mama wa kunde’. That’s how she has saved the number that keeps on texting her. The English however i see those few moments i peep from my seat does not add up to a mama mboga somewhere even from Lavington.


So when she raised this Ciku issue, I knew she was just finding a way to get out of my kabox that could hardly take her out for lunch. The furthest out I’ve taken her is at Wakanesa kafe. We just took Mandazi and long tea. You know that tea u don’t understand whether it’s the milk that’s missing ama the sugar. Ama both. Ama its the tea leaves? Before u get to the bottom of whats missing, you already at the bottom of your cup.

The Mandazi we took was one. I told the guy serving us to bring one and cut it, split it, dissect it into two parts. I thought this was more romantic than everyone having their own mandazi. Its romantic right? Well, not for my mbiulifu Nyaguthie. She took me for a micer who cant even spend his money on his woman. Ghai!! I refrained from taking her out afterwards.

“Aiiii… Ciku mgani Nyagu? Mimi ata kanisa nkidrum ni wewe tu huwa naangalia. ” i tried defending myself.
“nyamasa. Nirikuona fisuri sana. Na nilikua sure ni yeye juu ya hio top yake hapa juu clifange irikuwa inaonekana. Najua hio macho yako vizuri sijapatana nayo leo” she retorted.

Mwathani!! Mtu anasemanga nini ikifikia hapo?

Well, i could have continued defending myself. Say something like “ata si yeye nlikua naangalia. Symoh TS alikuwa kando yake na alikua na drum sticks zangu.” but i remembered i told her to help me carry my sticks on our way to church. Saitaan!!

“Baby si hivyo…”

“si hivyo niaje… Mimi siwesi enderea kuishi na wewe… ”

“Beb u know I only have eyes for you. I Love you. You know I can’t go a day without you… I would die without you… ” I tried.

The End

Brothers and sisters let me tell you. Never try that line on Nyaguthie if you are the mama wa kunde she chats with. A few lines and my love life doomed. Rock bottom conversation going all the way south.

“Njuu kabra nikuje urikua wapi?… unajua ni masali wagapi wananifuata wewe?” She shouted back.

Well, except for Kamau wa Makara who used to give her charcoal for free sometime back, I don’t know of any other. I remember i had secretly approached Kamau and thrown on him all the kalittle English I know of in that conversation. That was the end of the free makara. And now the ‘mama wa kunde’ who I have been investigating.But just to do away with the drama that had already started inviting the attention of my neighbours (they seem to eavesdrop on every conversation we have with my Nyagu) I said wengi and knelt to seek for mercy and Grace.


Did I just say Mercy and Grace? Yes Mercy and Grace out there, and any other woman who feels for me, I hereby declare my single status. I have not yet changed on Facebook just in case Nyaguthie sees it and brings back more drama as she comes to pick up her stuff. She left me there on my knees that day. I hear she is spotted hand in hand with a certain elderly man in our village. The last time I called her, she said i should hang up because she left me and she is already taken. She even added that I should declare myself an independent candidate. Brothers and sisters, Mercy and Grace, I also today officially declare I am also TAKEN. For granted. I need a different taking.

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Nyagu my laugh declines my kabambe S8

she declined my offer

Thanks For your prayers Guys

You all remember my plan. Get home, Music, Candles, Suprise Nyagu. If you did not, you can get full story here. Well brothers and sisters, Thank you for your prayers. God heard your prayers. all of them. that goes for a fact. No prayer goes unheard by God. To whatever prayer, however, God can either say Yes, No or Wait. I leave that at that.


I got home at around 7.30 PM. At the gate, I remembered Nyaguthie telling me to make sure I brought her chocolate when I come back from town. Of course, I didn’t remember that. I was too engrossed by the idea of the new phone. Well, I had to act fast. Nyaguthii had insisted that if I didn’t bring chocolate, I didn’t love her and should not go back to that house. there was no way I was going to spoil this evening. Not with the plans I had in line.


I ran to Gakuros place. For those who don’t know Gakuro is my shopkeeper back at home. His is the only shop in the vicinity once you enter my humble village.
“Sasa, Wina gashokolate karia ka gibau?” ( Hi, Do you have that ka20 b0b chocolate ?”) I asked.
He hurriedly served me the gashokolate and went on to attend to the line of customers behind me. Out I was. 7.40PM. Am standing outside my door.

My Place

“Knock Knock”
Anxiety all over my inside. confidence from the outside. After waiting for what seemed like two days and counting, my beautiful Nyagu opened the door… She was wearing my favourite dress. Seemed like she knew what the occasion was. She smiled at me.

“Karibu ndani Mzee” Thats the closest she has been to being romantic. I have called her all sorts of sweet names. She doesn’t seem to get them. She always call me mzee. When she is too happy she spices it up a little bit by adding wangu so its mzee wangu. I still hope she will learn fast one day. Ama am not pampering her with love enough? Yet to find out. I smiled back at her as i closed the door behind me.


“Sweetie niko na suprise,”I bluttered already regreting why I said that. It’s supposed to be a suprise. Sasa I’ve already told her so its no suprise anymore. Well, she still doesn’t know what it is exactly so it still is a suprise. Right?

“Sasa si ungenisaplais tu unaniambia nikusaidie kunisaplais ama?”Nyaguthie replied.


I didn’t even have time to play despacito in the background. I had to act fast before I polarise the romantic environment. Ambiance. I fast went on one knee. Pulled out the newest phone in town. Looked straight into her eyes…

“Nyagu, you know you are all I have. Sweetie, I want to be with you, communicate always, whatsapp, text messages and calls, facebook twitter and instagam…”

I stopped to check her facial reactions. How I wish i had just gone on.

Nyagu declines

“Umemalisa? Yaaani weewee, Ata uwesiskiza ni wimbo gani inaimba background? Alafu hii ni simu gani umeniletea” Andiroindi what? Unajua ni vizuri kama ndame ni wa class unamgift vitu ziko na andavu… Mimi si mutu wa kabambe Mzee wangu… Nitafutie S8 kuenda juu… Android 9.9…”

Ghai!! For starters i realized Murimi wa kahalfs Momo was the song in the background: How the hell could I have missed that. I thought of singing Tatianas Like you song but it was already too late save for my vocals which sure would ruin the situation even more.

Secondly, I didn’t introduce the phone to her. Had I started with what phone and specifics, she probably would have been confused by the specifics. The S8 she is talking about, that she heard when TS and I were discussing over kahawa at my place.

“Unaniletea kabambe tulitoka huko miaka gani? I am a woman of class. Nitafutie vitu za darasa.”

Well am pretty sure the darasa she is talking about must be a classroom going by her education background. She probably wants to go back and finish schooling from where she stopped in Nkirote and Sons CDF Primary school.

What Next

My heart in my shoes i stood up and left for sleep. Did I say Nyagu still took the phone and said she would keep it for my son to play with as a toy? I headed straight to bed. left her trying to find out where it’s powered on from. Here in bed, am thinking of how i’ll get the phone back from her tomorrow morning and gift it to my ex Nyansuguta. (I don’t know why I keep falling for women with a prefix ‘Nya’ in their names) she probably will be more grateful.

Lord give me strength.

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funny relationship proposal. the bomb


You all probably know this much too well. My girlfriend (name withheld 4 personal security. Allow me to use Nyaguthii today) and I are one happy couple. What!! Just kidding. You all know too well my relationship is between a rock and a hard place. Not with Nyaguthii daily nagging, Not with my inability. I know what inability you are thinking about but that’s not it. Am speaking about my inability to make enough money to cater for our daily needs. I need however to tell you here, I get enough money. Only with Nyaguthii’s spending habits, my money is never enough.

My friends say I have been Kaliwaad chapati. I don’t care though. Love is all that matters. Again this is my life, not theirs. Right?

Romantic guy

Am drifting away from my story. So, I have made every effort to please her and take her to a whole new level of romance. Nevertheless, she doesn’t seem to understand. I remember at one particular instance, I scribbled the most awesome piece of poetry. I tried it out on some 2 ladies I’ve been secretly eyeing just in case my Nyaguthie becomes too demanding. In both instances, my poem yielded the results I wanted. Or what would you say when you read a poem and all the lady wants is to lie on your chest and cry? Crocodile or not, there were tears.


Long story short, nilifika home. She was watching one of these soap operas you know the end before they start. Said I had something for her. Nikazima soap, Nikaeka nyashinski background music. Nikazima stima nikawasha candles. There on one knee, with malaika playing softly, I poured my heart out in poetry. She listened. She was getting carried away already. At last, there was light at the end of the tunnel. I ended my poem with the last punch line.

“…I love you Nyagu!”

Silence. You could have heard a pin drop. I knew I had hit the jackpot here. My relationship is growing stronger. Then she started speaking.

“Wewe Ngusto Yaani mbadara ufikirie vire utaninunulia kitu ya andabu ni poem tu umeona? Ni poem nitakula ama nitavaa nikienda kanisa?” I looked up.

Jehofa!! Lord have mercy. There on one knee I felt the truth of the dunia isimame nishuke phrase. I couldn’t get it. She was not done with me yet.

“Ungekuwa umeninunulia simu ningekutextia vitu nataka si upusi kama hii!! Tembu ondoka Alehandro ananingoja! Na ndungiconoka!!”

The Aftermath

Ngai!! I need not explain much. I didn’t get supper that night, She has also been giving me certain eyes sending conflicting signals since then.
Well, brothers and sisters, I heard about Jumia Anniversary 2017 sometime back. And with their prices this week, I knew this was the best moment to make up with my meagre kabudget. So when this week started, I think I was the first person to order. #OrderNo304718996.
I am headed towards home. Just picked up this phone from the Jumia delivery guy. I could have ordered for #UngaYa45 but I opted for the phone ndio anitextie nayo next time. #S8ya5bob would have done but guys are all over jumia’s website. The phone inaenda before niclick mara mbili heheee…

Am going to do the same thing I did last time; Nyashinski, candles… Only instead of a poem, I’ll unleash this phone. This is my last attempt to save my relationship. Hii ispowork watu wangu, the two ladies, be on standby. Put me in your prayers friends. #MwanaumeNiKujipeaMoyo.

Asanteni sana. Am almost at home.

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SugarMummies Needed Urgently.

Gustochronicles- sugar? No thanks. Am sweet enough

Hehee… This job place will show me things.


As most of you already know, And in case you didn’t know, I’ll tell you. I work in the customer care and support center of a certain big firm in town. Deals with web hosting, web design and development among other online solutions. deep Africa. That’s not where my story is though. Am just trying to set the mood. I am a content developer, Blogger. Social media department. Jina isikushtue sana. We liase at times with the support department when the calls are too many. So today the calls got too many. As a responsible employee, I went ahead to pick the call.

The Call

Kindu 9.AM.

“Hello thank you for calling deep Africa, Maina Kiwiri speaking how may I help you?”

The person from the other end was not close to the usual clients I attend to. Hoarse voice with croaky intervals if there exists such a word.

“Harooo Mimi naitwo Kiragu. Niriona hii number yenu kwa gaseti na nahitaji usaidisi.”

Of course, I felt like laughing, Who wouldn’t? I Am used to clients who make me feel like I had my English classes taught in Kikuyu from the classroom window. I have over time, however, learnt to keep my calm until am done with the call. So I went on.

“Okay, Mr Kiragu. How can we help you, sir?”

“Sasa, nirikua Nataka kisugar mummy kimoja. Niriona mumeadika wako kadhaa kwaja kuna mmoja Rusybebs arinijega sana……”

Am not sure i heard another word. Nkatha Mbaabu should tell you when it comes to these firms, the customer is always right. This one is an exemption. I just couldn’t hold myself anymore from bursting out loud.

He hung up people. He hung up.

My Job At Stake

Well, I had to explain to my boss why I laughed in the middle of a call. Almost lost my job. I was saved by the laughter of my colleagues before I even got halfway explaining. Theatre will save me a lot.

Well, Am hoping to make a follow-up call sometime next week see if he found what he was seeking for. In the meantime brothers and sisters, Anyone who knows where a ki sugar mummy can be found? Natafuta kimoja.

Just incase he didnt find one, ntampea digits.

gustochronicles say no to sugar mummies and sugar daddies

Tupatane GustoChronicles page tumalize hii story.

Disclaimer b4 boss aone hii: the characters depicted above r are all fictional. Incase kuna kufanana na ww anywhere, purely coincidental.

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Gustochronicles; The Creative Blog goes live

Gustochronicles blog goes live

The Blog Goes Live

You probably have been waiting for this blog all your life. Basically not all but ever since you saw a creative story I did. Well, if you haven’t then we are good. Now that you are here. Karibu sana. This blog is meant for those of you who just can’t get enough of their ribs cracking. We crack your ribs and get medics to repair them for cracking the next round. Found therein are inspirational notes as well. Yours is just to find them. Have fun.

I am witty, creative and funny. Humour is my umpteenth name. You can find my other blog posts on and

My World

Welcome to my world. I will be posting on a regular basis. More regular than your monthly salary. Only less regular than your bosses nagging messages to the printer that is closer to Him than to you to pick up a copy he just printed. Now that we are done setting up, I think the next reasonable course of action is to go right into the awesome rib-cracking content. Let the rib cracking begin. But before that, Subscribe to get the stories first.