Honesty Beleaguered


Soviet Union 1960

Part the second.

It will end when we overcome cleverness. When we realize we are too clever for our own good. It will end when the street guy hustling refuses to give out ‘something small’ as a favor. It will end when honesty comes. It will end when hard work gets valued more than cheap money.

-Hard huh!

At first it is hard. At first it is painful, just like any other syndrome. Take the similitude of the very ill patient. His heart races. His head swirls. Palpitations give him sleepless nights, chills give him no respite, fever burns his skin. The very first he does, in his pain, is acknowledge his situation. He is sick. The sick person will visit a doctor. The sick person will swallow bitter pills: to change his situation. The sick person will eat sand, even if falsely instructed by his doctor. In desperation. For nothing is as sweet as health, and nothing as ever abhorrent and disgustful as corruption. The sick heal.

-Can we heal?

Can we be honest?

-Does it have to do with honesty? Dude I have seen honest people ‘eat’

Those are not honest.

-Bro, no one is clean.

That is the disease. Lack of honesty is the recipe for all the malaise. Take the similitude of a dirty house. At first, on the outside it is very appealing. Dishes keep piling in the sink. The lazy tenant has reached the point, where he has used all the dishes, have become dirty, and is now forced to go buy quick disposable plastic plates and spoons! Sinks remain untouched. Smell comes. Flies come. Sink clogs. Cockroaches come. They make themselves comfortable everywhere…from the kitchen, to the bedroom, in the toilets and in the living room. They are invaders.


Honesty is clean. It is satisfying. It is always straight. It is not sugar-coated to get favors from anyone. It acknowledges that there is no middle ground between right and wrong. Corruption is Ebola but worse. It kills not the few rich, but the millions denied basic rights. It denies school children textbooks, desks, pencils, teachers, while the rich man’s kids are studying in Paris school of Economics, trying to figure what is wrong with African Economics.

-Bruh…there is nothing wrong with African Economics.

But there is something wrong, only it is not a system but a people. It is not systems to blame. It is who runs systems. You don’t need a degree in Paris or oxford to study African problems, or African politics. No one teaches honesty! Not in universities! Universities are the greatest manufacturer of dishonesty in every sector of life. You don’t get degrees in Honesty! You don’t get a degree in established truths! There is nothing like an ‘established truth’ anymore. Everything they teach is a theory. The theory of everything!

-Deep! There is no degree in honesty?

-Neither is there one in uprightness.

Is it the upbringing. Do we blame colonialism?

-We blame lack of honesty!

Is it honesty a hundred percent?

It is the nucleus of the atom. Take away the nucleus you have nothing. Take away honesty you have emptiness in everything. In economics, in science, in factories, corporations, parastatals, ministries, lack of honesty you have ghost structures that bring benefit to no living thing, man or ants or birds. It makes everyone poor.

-How should honesty, be cultivated?

Through teaching. Through speaking. Through punishing.

-Do you think that can ever happen in Africa?

In Africa anything is possible.

-I don’t think so.

So long as things remain, we shall be like that for hundreds of years to come. We shall see China rise and rise, overpopulate, come to the continent and dictate things to us. Because honesty has made us poor; and the few rich with their dishonest ways, live in mansions. We will be living in the twenty first century as we scramble for foods coming in planes as Aid, because we are too dishonest with ourselves that something should change. There will be no running water, no agriculture. No nothing.

_It starts with me and you. Are you honest?

At least I am honest about our state of affairs.

-Be proud you are African.

(Shaking head) Proud, bro, but nothing to show for it.


Coz Cheating is Cool.


It is no longer news.

Money disappearing in billions is the trend.


-Coz money is available.


-Because they easily give us!


-Because we ask them to!

Ask who?

-Donors. We tell them it’s for development.

What’s the development for?

-It will make us have tall buildings, beautiful roads, expansive highways.

Stop. Stop. You confuse me.

-Money was borrowed.

-Yes. Is borrowed. Was borrowed.

Money is given. Yes.

Easily given.

By who?

West, EU, IMF and any other organization with a ‘fund’ as part of its name.

It’s available?

-Yes. In bulks. They print it.

And we take? For what?


And is there development?

Only development so far is stealing. Papa calls it looting. Euphemists use –Vanish, for lack of a better word.

Arrrgh. Africans!

Stop there. We are to blame.

Really? How so?

We are cheated because we are cheats. We are wronged because we are wrong. Cheating has become so rampant that people now compete which type of cheating is more profitable. Yes profitable!


Yes, it is profitable. Cheating is quite rewarding. Positively and negatively.

It gives you ill cheaply (ill gotten) wealth. It makes you purchase a degree. It makes you get a very nice decent, well-paying job, because all you do is pay someone to pay someone. It makes your son pass his exam, because you bought all the examination questions plus the answer sheets. Cheating makes you cheat the government, that pays you millions for a shady job you sugar-coat as a tender. Cheating makes you rich. It pays the rent. It buys you cars. Cheating makes you cheat on your partner (well first because he/she cheated on you before, your relationship isn’t going ‘anywhere’, another promised you better living (he has a car, owns a house) etc.

Because it is the new norm. It is the instant gratifier. Quick everything. Quicky…quicky…pants down, thing in, five minutes pleasure, massive surges of dopamine, it’s so cool, and it’s the new drug. As long as you are not caught, you are the master of your game. All the rest are fools.

They are not ‘Wajanja’ (clever), as many people like to use the term.

So it is this cleverness that many people think to possess, that the ones above them, embody. They live to be clever. They live to cheat the system. To cheat the people. Because being clever and being elected to office has double advantages. All the rest down there, the ‘Wanjikus’ are not clever and they are cleverer.

“Bwana, who do you think they are?”

-So a whole corporation (and any other type of cheating in bulks), will be fleeced on a single day and the money vanish. Several false trails leading to nowhere are pursued for days, because even the ‘detectives’ are paid to pursue false leads. The looters come on top as both the clever (Mjanja) and richer. Now he commands bodyguards. He has built the largest living mansion in Africa. He has a small runway in his farm for his jets. He has a swimming pool the size of a lake. And the people forget, because they thought they were too clever, and too smart not to know they were fools. The image of our man has now turned from an abhorred thief, to a reverent ‘Mkubwa” (Dignitary).

-Mkubwa? You are shitting me!

-Yes Mkubwa!

-Why Mkubwa… how the change?

-Because he smiles as he kills you. He pays some few shillings to whomever he meets. Distributing wealth for show! As if he is in a circus. The masses drool. Malnourished children, with kwashiorkor and marasmus run around him barefooted, and bare-chested as mucus runs down their noses, chanting his name. He opens a tap with running water; people hail him as the most generous man in the continent, next to Jesus.

-I am shaking my head right now.

-Shake it harder. Now his fame has spread. People call him ‘Our person’. He has used the fallacy of his position to endear himself, appealing to his tribe. Touch him now, you’ve touched them. Do anything to him; you have done something to our person. The very early foundations of the cheat, has now been gradually converted to a dangerous sycophancy. Talk and you talk against us. Whistle and you whistle against our very own. Blink…dare to blink!

_That’s a very good example.

Now everyone wants to emulate him. That’s the tragedy. To own a car, a big house, a small runway, and girls drooling over your wealth is a sign you have made it in life. So cheating becomes normal. So long as I gain. There are different types of cheating. The foolish and the clever cheating. The fool will rob an Mpesa at a gunpoint. That fool will probably fall towards the evening by a policeman’s rifle. The clever cheat walks in suits. Drives nice cars.

Will all this end. Can it be changed?

-I will tell you how it will end. Not today. (wink).

Never Look Back…of Growth and Learning. A year later.


I learnt some important lessons along the way:

Time is plenty. Priorities are limited. Your goals fall under your priorities. Unconsciously you may prioritize not what you really want to prioritize. To prioritize you need time. To have time you need to stay away from the noise and listen to yourself. In the dark, alone, in your room, ask yourself, do I have time? Can I make time? (In reality time is not made, but is there, but do I say?)

Time stealers are out-there. Beware! Time stealers are rich. Wealth has made them powerful. If you are looking to make money, know that you make someone out there rich, as you think of ways to make money, you forget you need time. To get time, some genius thought of ways to take away your money that has been given to you in the form of time.

The following, one year on, I came to know are perpetual time stealers.

  1. Series. (Hollywood, Korean, Bollywood…and any other thing that ends with wood.)
  2. Instagram. (really do you need to be constantly looking at your phone?)
  3. Facebook.

Social activities. (Binge- drinking…clubbing etc… things that don’t add value to you, but add only misery after you have finished exhausting your mortal body)


Learning never ends. No matter how much you think you know, you still don’t know.

  • Only the arrogant brag about what they know. The wise think they know not. Didn’t Socrates say, ” The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing?”
  • Medicine and writing perfectly coincide. They are both arts. Whereas one heals humans, the other studies human behavior and their motives.
  • If you haven’t learnt anything new today, your day wasn’t worth living.
  • Addictions can be overcome. Fighting addictions is a war! In that war you don’t need guns. You need a Will. You need tremendous dedication and spirit. In accomplishing it, what are you willing to sacrifice? Can you throw the bottle in the gutter? Can you flash those packs of cigarretes inside the toilet? (If they can be flashed. LOL). In saying this, I witnessed several people around me quit things they thought they’d never quit.
  • Girls are gems. Everyone wants them. No girl I met who hasn’t had a past life. Boys, as I come to learn of these things, it’s time we hitch-hiked the car in the middle and begged a ride to somewhere. Or nowhere, If fate allows it.
  • If a friend around you is not one that inspires you to do anything, It’s time you walked alone in the dark road towards your goals.

I quit Facebook. It really feels good.

I grew up, physically. One year.

I finished my manuscript: It felt good for a while, then the feeling dissipated, wrote a couple of short stories and left some still unfinished. I got bored, started book two of my novel. Why do I feel I enjoy writing the second book more than I did the first, is it experience?

I went a ladder up in the school of medicine.

I tried looking for editors! American editors are EXPENSIVE!

With time I will learn more. I will hope to meet people we would learn from constantly. For now, Bliss.




(The following has been inspired by sad scenes I saw on a clip in the New York Times website, as young women of reproductive age in Ireland jumped up and down in ecstasy on the news that abortion had been finally legalized. People voted. Humans were happy. But I was sad. One of the interviewees a middle aged woman proudly said: “It shows how far women have come and the tremendous achievement of the 21st century.” Another said, “A woman has finally taken command of her body. She can do whatever she pleases”.

This is a work of fiction. Events taking place here; as blasphemy freaks might later arise, are in no way attempted at showing, or claiming to know whatever happens in Heaven. The sole belief that, that every human will stand accountable before God guides me. The belief that Humans will always attempt to lie in front of God, despite massive evidence against them, is recorded in religious scripts. Therefore, this has been solely written, merely as literature and no attempt is made at attacking the ones that attempt the subjects discussed thereafter.)

The following events happen on 20thinfinity. Time is Forever.

The scene is quite unknown. No human language fathoms the grandeur of the place. No human tongue dares describe the beauty, the pristineness, the clarity of the senses. It is calm. It is overwhelmingly frightening. It is a day, in which, every soul attempts to reap what it sowed. A day in which every soul, attempts to salvage whatever is left of its soul. Relations are extinct. Mother, or father, sister, brother, everything is perished. Everyone is equal. Lights are nothing compared to whatever has ever been sighted; whatever has ever been dreamt or imagined. So much compassion is around.  Much mercy is visible to the frail human eyes. It is at the court of God.

No camera is nearby. For no camera can comprehend his light. No equipment can handle His grandeur, ask Moses of Israel. He is so great, only the pure, the righteous, the very unblemished, can see Him, by his permission.

At the court is a small boy. So tiny. Much of his body is not yet formed, a hand is cut, face has a very big cut in two, and his legs are deformed and one badly dangles from his tiny features. His face is of anguish. Beside him, on the other side, is a woman, pretty, healthy and very energetic. She looks young. Well formed, in great shape, youthful. She has her head down.


Boy: (Bends his head. Prostrates himself before God.)

Voice: Rise, Child. By my Greatness!

Boy: Grant me permission, dear Lord of the seven heavens, the seven earths and all in between. The creator of the universe, allow me, to look at your sacred face, as I present my case. O truth. O Great. O omnipresent.

Voice: My child. I grant you your wishes.

Boy: Thank you. By your greatness, I stand before you, humbly, against a great wrong done on me. I wish for her, Dear God, to tell me why she killed me.

Woman: By your greatness, I swear in your honor… I did not kill him…I did not kill him (begins to cry)

Silence ensues.

Voice: Speak the truth, the accused. Shame not yourself in front of my presence, for I know the truth. For am I not the very truth?

Woman: (Cries relentlessly)

Almighty shows tremendous patience.

Woman: (Wipes her tears) I did not kill.

All of a sudden the fingers begin twitching in furiously. Her body begins to shake.

Small finger: (Speaks) Shame us not by your lies. Fear the Lord. Fear your creator. O mighty one. O worthy of praises. I saw how she killed it. I saw how she did it all. Honor me, in asking me how she did it.

Tongue: Shut up! You set us all. You set us up, you snitch.

Woman: (cries endlessly) O God…I…I…

Voice: Speak…Little finger.

Little finger: She killed that boy. Plain. Simple.

Middle Finger: Yes…Yes… She did it.

Right Leg: I took her to the hospital.

Left Leg: She took her shoes with her, and her purse.

Index finger: I knew it. I knew it. Everything. I had a sense when she met that boy. Her mother said, always use protection…but I knew. Hormones, dear God had so much poisoned her mind; she forgot to use protection…

Woman: Shut up. Shut up…all of you. (Turns her face) O God. You are the most merciful…

Voice: Did you do it?

Woman: I did not….

Ring Finger: I know her doctor. That fat guy did it. Technically she didn’t do it.

Boy: O almighty. Nothing compares to your majesty. You are the all knowing. Grant me permission, to tell you how I felt. Three days had passed since, what those humans of that era called fertilization. The two angels had brought with them my soul, wrapped in a blue emerald clothe. They placed me in her womb, and breathed in me. They breathed in me the three vitals of life. My cells followed my DNA. They multiplied. They were growing at such a length I cannot quite remember how my small tiny heart begun to beat. I felt good. It was warm… until one day, in my sleep, I saw my limb depart the hardwork I endured inside the womb. It was…It was…frighteningly grotesque! I cried. I suffocated! Curette cut my face in half. My body….( Begins to cry)

Little Finger: (In Sympathy) Ooooh… poor child. Look what you did woman!

Right Leg: I maintain she did it.

Woman: It’s not me. The doctor did it. The doctor, God…

Voice: Doctor.

Soon as the voice calls his name, the fat figure of a man, well formed, defect less, strong but undergone the upheavals of trials comes into the fold. His arms are folded in front near his stomach.

Doctor: (Immediately falls into prostration)

Voice: Rise.

Doctor: First of all, dear God. O beautiful one, allow me to praise your highness. No face is as beautiful as yours. Allow me, by your permission, to say that, first of all, is it not that, no one shall carry the sins of another?

Voice: Indeed.

Doctor: I did not kill that baby. The very woman, came to me and told me to do it. Her Will killed it.

Woman: (Yells) Liar.

Voice: Silence.

Doctor: Dear God. Your sacred records can see, do I open my account book, O merciful one, as evidence?

Voice: You may.

Doctor: Here. Recorded here, by an angel, that I at first ruled against her doing it. She had a whole week with a psychologist, dear Honorable one, she had a whole week with a psychologist. It was her decision.

Woman: By his help.

Ring Finger: Killer.

Voice: You aided a killing. Had you no conscience?

Doctor: (drops his head in shame) O merciful one. Forgive me…forgive me…

Voice: Forgiveness was on earth. Here is payment.

Doctor: I leave it up to you, O Blessed one.

Several live images of the horrible procedure surface in real time. Abortion in progress. All the faces present conceal their shame. The boy looks at it, with such a sad face, and he cries a tear of pain.

Voice: Cry not, child…

Boy: O God. It was painful. It was torture. What was unbearable is the opportunity to live on earth was taken away from me, by her, by humans, by governments. All the opportunities to do good, on earth, have not been presented to me, O Merciful one. I stand here, in front of you, with an empty account book, with no good to show you, Dear God…

Woman: O God forgive me…

Voice:  My ruling will be just.

Woman: (Cries) baby….please…intercede for me…please.

Voice: There will be no intercession this day.

Boy: What will be my situation, O beautiful one?

Voice: You shall live in eternal bliss. In the highest station of paradise. You will age not. Your book is full of many things I would have been proud of, for I see how pure your soul would have been. As for the mother, her recompense is that she will suffer for the pain she inflicted upon you, and the death she caused. For I ruled who so kills a single soul, is like he killed the whole of humanity. And whoever saves a single soul, is like he saved the whole of humanity.

Angels come in flocks, the gradual figure of the woman rises, being escorted forcefully towards the enormous gates of hell-fire that wait, far in the vicinity. Fire, that no eye has ever seen rages. The heat, from a seventy years journey from hell fire, is still able to reach her and peel off her beautiful youthful skin of her face. She screams. She yells. She begs. She kicks. She rises and rises. The little child cannot bear the pain. He falls flat on his face.

Boy: Dear Lord, O Master of affairs. Grant me a wish. O God. Grant me one wish.

Voice: Your wish is granted, little one.

Boy: Save her from hell fire, that I may have a mother with me in paradise. Save her that she might atone for what she did to me on Earth. Save her, for none can save anybody except by your leave. You are the Doer, The cherisher. O Forgiver.

Voice: By My Mightiness, I grant her respite. I grant you your wishes, for I am nothing, but Merciful?


A feast for Birds




“Cups! Where are the cups! Can’t you see the guests are here?”



“Would you not stop saying ‘Ee’ every time I call you? Now why don’t you bring the coldest juice for my wonderful guests?”

“Yes mom!”



“What’s happening in the kitchen?”

Philomena has run up and down the house, like a marathon runner who is not chasing gold, but is rather being chased by cheetahs. She has circumambulated the kitchen. She has gone for cups, spoons, knives, salt. Being exiled since early morning, and grossly feeling exhausted even before the end of the day, a certain feeling of uniqueness helps her keep going! And she has exacted her revenge by feeding herself, till walking, is as difficult as a profession requiring diligence and hard work. ‘Philomena, pepper lacks in the soup, weren’t you keen? Philomena where was your mind while cooking!’ Philomena this! Philomena that!

The gates have been opened! The neighbors have been openly invited! More guests are arriving! More food is ordered from the ‘Soko’, (market) and more will be prepared!

“Ee!” Philomena said.

“Madam I am not a machine!”

“What?” Nawal asks mouth agape.

“I mean I will call my sister, she is in the neighborhood!”

“Philomena! Do whatever you like! Just ensure you do whatever I want! Today is no day for arguing!”

“Ehh madam!”

Philo stretches for her phone from the pocket of her apron. She dials the number of her fellow worker. She has greeted her genially. She tells her about the hectic day she’s been having. Her friend asks, “Will you pay me?”

“Ahh Milly, since when friends paid each other?” Philo asks, half bewildered, half expectant her friend would come.

“What’s going on over there?”

“The master’s daughter and some other rich man’s son are to be engaged!”

“Only that?” Milly asks.

“I want something that would drag me out of where I am working to come and help you into what you are doing!”

“Have you ever tasted camel milk?”

“No! They say it smells funny!”

“A goat has been slaughtered! A camel is being cut in the neck! In the evening a bull’s meat will arrive! I know you like eating hooves, and tongues!”

“Don’t insult me, Philo!”

“Ahh…you tire me…are you coming?’”

“Only to eat!” The phone disconnects.

The people at the ceremony only seem to be increasing! The tall black gates have been opened! For all! The cat’s friend has arrived: uninvited! Today, no master will scream! Last time it came, some days later Truphena the cat gave birth to so many kittens, Nawal was so angered at having to see so many of them roaming around the house, that she gave out for free to her neighbors. Since then, this friend cat has found it tricky to enter this people’s house! Today no one sees him! The gates are open! Smell of meat and curry and spices is all over the air! Something must be going on here! Ehee, and Turu and ahem ahem! Nobody sees. Nobody will see.

The children playing soccer stopped a long time ago! They are roaming now, around, in search of food, and anything else that graces the occasion. The air is now returning to normalcy a bit! The chaos the increasing masses brought with them is slowly dissipating, as they all chew and celebrate to the food ever brought by the maids and the music is soothing. Outside, a huge fire is being built! Large pans enough to boil two goats at the same time are brought! Women from the neighborhoods are joining! Philo has found women acting as life coaches! One has told her, to light for her the firewood only and peel off potatoes! The rest will be done by her! The fire starts. Cooking progresses.

Smoke…smoke…sparks…fire…green smoke…thick blue smoke and then the sparks join to form a uniform fire! Philo has done blowing, she feels tired in her cheeks. Smoke has made her teary! Goats are being skinned! Women are cutting meat, into pieces; the internals are pushed to one side. Proper cooking begins. Each woman has her role! Milly’s confusion has settled, now she knows what to do! Sit with the older women as they talk of everything in the world! Well, apart from sports!

The mood inside the house is indescribable! The boy’s family sits with their son, on one side, and Nawal sits near her daughter, close to each other on the other side of the table. The man of the house, seats near the man of the groom. They exchange well humored jokes. Maryam is so shy; blushing makes her red, and warm and funny! Her long scarf seats well over her head! She has only looked at her man-to-be just once! And she has felt extremely awkward. As if all the eyes in the world are on her! Fadhiludin is not shy! His boldness makes his dear mother, and his dear sister, shy! His eyes are glued only to the object of his lust and desire! His eyes are so settled on Maryam; his sister hits him on his ankle and winces at him so hard! Fadhilidun hasn’t felt anything! He clears his throat!

“Allow me, dear father, to have a word with her, if you please?” Asks Fadhiludin. His mother’s heart sinks! His father’s face wrinkles in frustration.

“And in private?” Adds Fadhiludin, boldly.

“Huh!” Nawal gasps.

“And in private?” Words stick to Fadhiludin’s mother’s throat.

The tension has been sparked by Fadhiliduin. The women have taken it a notch higher. Fadhiludin’s father is about to speak, his mouth hangs in the air.

“Well, well” Says Adam. “Young lovers! Emotions run high! Love as someone once said, is in the air! In the study! Five minutes! Five minutes young lovers….ha!ha! The glasses there are TRANSPARENT”. Adam emphasizes on the last word.

Good excellent! Very educated! Any man clever enough to read situations is wise! Maryam rises! She blushes! She almost tumbles as she pushes the chair behind her! Fadhiludin’s sister helps her, with a smile! Fadhiludin rises! Clasps the edges of his expensive suit together! The eyes! Eyes were unmovable! They got a glimpse of something, and they evoked his smile.

At the study.

“Oh my love! You look stunning!” begins Fadhiludin.

“Oh! Stop it!”

“Oh my world! You look exquisite! Your body makes me go crrrrazy!”

“Oh stop!”

“My love! Allow me. Give me your hand! Let me kiss them! Let me! Please”

“Oh…you stop”

“I can’t breathe whenever you are in my thoughts! I can’t eat! I can’t move! Without you I become useless. My love, how are you?”

“How is Farida?”

“Oh my love…stop stop… don’t sour our engagement with the talks of a woman undeserving of our attention! Do not! Remember what I told you?”


“Did I not say she is jealous?”

“And what if she is pregnant as she says?”

“Any woman can be pregnant to any man!”

“My love…your eyes glow today!”

“Ahh….stop” Maryam now blushes so hard. Her cheeks are crying red.

“You make goosebumps torture me! Allow me just a kiss! A kiss! My love! I am dying! I am dying”

“Stop it! Control yourself!” Maryam raises her tone, at the same making it subdued. “Oh my love, you are my queen. I will listen to you. Just you.”

Art and Deception. An opinion.


This is the age of science.

Hurrah to the world! while most of humanity will celebrate to the first sentence, I assure you humanity is at the lowest point in history! Care to know my reasons. It is no longer the age of science. That era passed some a hundred years ago, after most of the major life changing inventions were brought to us, by say, genius men, who had some profound work ethics and ethos. That age, has welcomed a new era of deception! And deception, in the current age and time has never been so sweet and so blatant like no other time in history.

Earlier, the age of science paved way for innovation. A human being invented the T.V in the process. It in turn, gradually turned from a source of information (which the earlier fathers of the child (T.V) termed it as powerful enough to change the world, in a positive light) it transformed the world into something far beyond that. Where as earlier it was the place for family gatherings, where they watched news, innocent shows, powerful interviews; the internet came along. And if you are reading this, you know the story of our time.

Tv’s and any other gadget coming closer to a screen, have been used, and is being used to turn man from himself! Young boys are shown how, if internal conflict is killing them, to transform them to a different gender. Young girls, are being deceived, into believing, they are not as beautiful as that naked woman on the screen! Cheating, as families watch movies for entertainment, is glorified! The father sees cheating is normal, the young girl child sees how boys kiss them, sex is now depicted as an art, and is a must in every show. Ponorgraphy is a lifestyle! If any one doesn’t watch porn, they are abnormal! Killings have become the new entertainment! My earlier sentence in this paragraph, that man has been helped turn from himself is quite justified. Your opinion, comment.

The world is enjoying, or rather, the world is enjoying this age of deception.

Deception has gotten a new sinonym. They call it entertainment. Can we speak? can any talk about it. They will get a new word; an extremist! or the most extreme, backward. Nobody can speak. This has had a profound effect on humans.

Firstly, if sex becomes unrestricted, you deprive a human of his humanity! The only unrestricted sex is witnessed only in animals. Few would agree (majority, after years of bombardment through information (targeted) have their opinions gradually changed for them and influenced even without their noticing). They say everyone has a right to do what they want; forgetting, they wouldn’t like to live like animals, if someone had given them the exclusive rights of becoming one, for free.

All this happens because the shows are so sweet. A crunchy sex scene is very sweet to watch. The dopamine levels in your brains increase multiple folds, it’s so natural you are hooked. The series are thrilling! Killing and massacre in their perpetual ‘good vs evil’ story lines is presented as a necessity. It has become practically impossible to stop! The result is, our kids too are exposed, and three generations from the grandfather to the new born, are infiltrated to the core, or as they say, are ‘programmed’ by the programs. It is so natural they called them programs.

Secondly art has died. If a poet has the audacity to write pornography without blinking, and is acclaimed, art has died and has been burried! If a promising author goes on the way and is tempted to sketch two humans entangled together while naked, whilst captioning them with words designed to trigger the reader’s centre of pleasure in his brain, art is now an ancestor. If a hollywood director decides to make an actress naked and shows on big screens how she is being done, it automatically crosses the line, from simple art, to outright corruption. Yes corruption! It comes in many forms.

Thirdly! The humans no longer react to basic truths. That your neighbour has a right to be greeted and visited! That a poor person on the street has the right to be helped! The sick in hospitals have a right to be visited, and assisted! The age of deception has switched off humans from each other the day it got online. The age of science has ensured even in metros, in buses and on the streets, no one speaks to the other, as they all look at gadgets!

Each looks at a screen! Each wants to gratify online world. Each wants to look good to friends he will never meet. Each wants to gratify followers who barely know his name! Followers too are humans, and humans enjoy deception.

Deception feels good, right?

The Arrivals


Two Range Rovers arrive. One is black, and so shiny, it oppresses the eye. The other is dark blue, and very elegant! The children playing football have stopped to observe. The fat chubby boy at the goal post has let the ball pass between his legs! Despite the goal, the massive presence of the giant machines, so pleasant to the eyes, has muted any celebrations. The gossipers under the yellow jerri-cans at the shade have put their steamy stories, of oppression and love triangles on hold; and basing on their reactions, would change their topic on this very subject that has so wowed their eyes for the next three consecutive days.

In the first black automobile, a man short in stature, old and elegant, with a striking suit and glaring pot-belly steps out of the car! Precisely put, is helped to step to the dusty Runda estate by his driver. The very ordinary chauffeur so tenderly pulls the car’s door, in such a soft touch, as to evoke only kind thoughts about him, of humility and perpetual softness to his wife, if he had one. On the other side of the door emerges a younger man. Very smart. Elegantly looking. The suit brightens everything in him. It is black, so ravishingly black. Under his coat is a fine white shirt, under the eyes it dazzles, under the blue sky it bewilders! A red tie complements the upper half of his body. On his waist is a magnificent dark trouser, and shoes only found in Italy!

The blue car with its elegance has produced nothing short of perfection in sight, and satisfaction in seeing. Another man, a different chauffeur, slightly shorter though, gracefully opens the door for a woman, who steps into the dust with a smile. On her head is a light blue scarf that covers much of her chest and arms. Her dress is a long West African robe, and the object of communication between her and the world, on which she steps, is a heel that is high for a woman her age! She is dark, on the outset but very bright whenever she smiles. The other side, without permission is a younger woman, prettier, bubblier, lighter, in a long black robe, a red scarf, and heels. A handbag is her companion. A sweet curvy hip is her friend; a much oppressed face in all kinds of colors is the new style. The brows look sharp and steady, the eye –lids look polished. The lips scream red. The epithelial cells of the skin are suffocating. Perfection hasn’t been abused, as women nowadays argue, it only has been perfected. And that we have seen.

The heavy gates open, and greeting them is a smiling Adam, and a glorious Nawal. In Nawal’s dressing she has already anticipated competition is nigh. And so, to speak, had been planning to rise to the occasion of matching up to what the visitors bring! On her head is an orange turban that sits in splendor, freeing her slim neck to the sweetness of the wind and the kiss of the sun. The blemishes on her face have been wiped away, hidden under the layers of things bought in make-up stores. The natural wrinkles in her age have been massively rebuked, never to show itself for the remainder of the day! The result is exquisite! Her small, slender nose is reminiscent of a beauty that only has been sought, and is the subject of the visit. Her light face shines and the smile compounds her features! The street boys of Nairobi say, ‘she has killed it’. Her flawless robe covers much of what is desired to be hidden from the world; a gift her husband brought her from Turkey.

Adam is ordinary! A camel oil on his face and a red shirt is the only prominent thing on his body. And a wide, welcoming smile is his mode of communication.

“Oh! What beautiful world, full of beautiful people! Welcome! Welcome!” He says. The older men embrace; The older women embrace; leaving the man-to-be, Fadhiludin and his sister looking completely out of place as they look and smile at each other. In no time Nawal has hugged Fadhiludin’s sister, and rubbed her back with her soft hands tenderly.

“Laila? No?” She asks the girl.

“Forgotten me already?” The girl says looking half surprised.

“My dear child; Names are the hardest to remember, considering we met only once” Nawal defends herself.


“Oh…I didn’t even come close” Nawal regrets, and embraces Tasnim again! The smiles! The warmth! The greetings! all in the absence of the very person whose presence has made them travel miles; in the heat of Nairobi. Fadhilidun in impatience cranes his neck to the gate, to the windows in search of the very human being that moistens his heart! She is out of sight.

Back in the room, Maryam has changed clothes seven times! The sophisticated red dress that tightens across her belly, with short sleeves; the blue satin brought to her as a gift, in the earlier days when the love for her man-to be had been unblemished, and several others have all been blessed to touch her skin, and be disposed of again! Philomena’s advice has been sought on several of the occasions, and every time she says, “Eh…this is fine, madam” or “I like this, can I try it?”, as Maryam turns from the mirror to gaze, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the only thing in her body she thinks men care only about. The result is a tiresome employment of efforts, and a regrettable waste of time. She has, after all, settled for a less catchy dress, very modest, threatening to reveal her beauty, and at the same time, hiding it from the prying eyes of the man who’d later be her world. A red encompassing scarf watches over her head and her face, and part of her voluptuous chest! Make-up boxes have had a hard time; Philomena has been transformed into a part-time artist, now the fine face of Maryam has been transformed. The eyelashes beam, the eye-lids scream, the face is new and fresh! Very Maryam-like! Beauty, they say, has no bounds.