voters apathy 2007
Contrary to popular stance, I would like to urge everyone not to vote in the next year’s general elections. My reasoning is simple. Regardless whether we vote in ODM-kenya, Narc-Kenya or any other party for that matter, we shall be voting in a bunch of remorseless self seekers who shall at the first opportunity seek to increase their already bloated salaries and perks. It is very telling that politicians on both sides of the divide agree on only two things i.e. an increase in their pay and secondly that it is good if we all go and vote! Now it does not take a Greek rocket scientist to figure out that both these statements are self serving.
It is not lost to me that majority of people will think am mad for suggesting such a ridiculous proposal but then, desperate times call for desperate measures. We are living in times when the ruling class has held us hostage for too long and the worst part about it is that every five years or so, we legitimize their plundering by voting them in under different guises. I must say that I admire the ability of politicians to re-invent themselves even in the most impossible of circumstances. A huge number of our politicians have been involved in anglo-leasing, Goldenberg, Ouko inquiry, land clashes etc just to mention but a hundredth of the atrocities. The same politicians in less than four years are the darlings of the voting public. It is sad to see that the average mwananchi has a very short memory and these buffoons of leaders have learnt to play with our perpetual amnesia to our detriment. Are we still going to vote them in?
I submit that both the opposition and the government have not only failed miserably in as far as the mandate we gave them to serve us is concerned, but have also been complicit to all the vices that have rendered us broke, tribal and corrupt. How do we justify voting for people who went into parliament, turned their back on the M.o.U that we so fervently fell for line hook and sinker? How do we justify voting for people who the only time that both sides of the house agreed was when they wanted to increase their salaries? How can the opposition say they are our watchdog when they were complicit to the plunder of public resources as we watch helplessly? We are told that it is the wananchi who are the employers of those in parliament. If that is so, then how come we cannot determine how much a member of parliament takes home? I can assure you that there is no single Kenyan of sound mind (and is not an immediate benefactor of the largesse) who will tell you that the members of parliament deserve the money they get. Is it not amazing that an MP earns five times what the brightest lecturer earns. Lecturers churn out a good number of qualified graduates and that can be measured by how highly Kenya is rated in the international job market. Our politicians can be rated by how well Kenya compares in economy, corruption index, tribalism, cronyism, employment creation etc. I don’t have to tell anyone where Kenya rates on the international scene on these variables, but I itch so I must scratch- we compare hopelessly. So, why, I ask again are politicians being paid more than lecturers.
I am greatly disturbed by the continuous reminders from government of how far we have come and how we are doing better than when kanu was in power. Any bunch of clowns with very little effort can do better than kanu! This 8th parliament will go down in history as the biggest hoax the country has ever witnessed. This parliament has the most number of PhD’s, master’s degrees and other qualifications since the country’s independence, yet their collective stupidity is astounding. How else can you explain the Artur saga and the circus that ensued thereafter? It is not just greed or corruption but foolishness to expect Kenyans to believe anything the ruling class has to tell us.
Arguments shall be advanced am sure, that we the citizenry hold the power through the ballot box. Well, we do and we don’t. We do because if we exercise the right to vote, then we are deemed to have actually chosen the person that we want to rule us. The question then is, have we really and truly wanted the rulers that we have this far picked or was it hobson’s choice where we are faced with choosing between the devil or his assistant so we settled for his assistant. Indeed that is no choice at all. We all know that as Kenyans we have a large pool of people from whom we can pick. We also know that all these good people are unknown to the larger populace and the only way to scale the political ladder is by acquiring obscene wealth or having a godfather somewhere who will do the spadework for you. Both these conditions are difficult to achieve if we are to put in 222 new faces in parliament. The one-off upset where a man/woman wins an election on a bicycle is not what Kenyans need now. What Kenyans need is a total overhaul from the president to the last sleepy opposition MP. The only way to do this is not through overt mass action but through covert mass action where we simply stay at home and refuse to vote until the following conditions are met:
Anyone who has ever been employed by Kenyans as an MP since 1963 should not be eligible to stand next year because in the law-book of public opinion, ALL the MP’s have failed us miserably. We cannot at this time stick to the law that tells us that any adult of sound mind who can speak Kiswahili be eligible! This is because if we stick to the current laws that favor the ruling class, we shall never get out of our political quagmire. All this talk of constitutional change is just cosmetic and will be drawn out for as long as they can to safeguard their interests. I daresay that if we do away with all these people, then we stand a fighting chance of turning a new leaf to stop grand corruption, tribalism and poverty.
Further, the pay and perks of MP’s be an all-inclusive package of 150,000 shillings and be revised only when the teachers salaries are revised and in the same percentages. Of course the teacher’s salaries should be pegged to how well the economy can sustain into the distant future.
Most importantly, the law-making arm of government should ensure that there is an immediate way to make sure that we can hold our politicians accountable for any actions they undertake on behalf of us the Kenyans. This is to say that if my MP is suspected of misusing the CDF fund directly or through proxy, I should be able to make sure that he loses all the property he has acquired in this way, in the shortest time possible say one month. Immediate punishment works wonders.
I guarantee anyone who cares to listen that come next year, the elections will be the most tribal ever, with members of one community bearing the brunt of isolation. Further, next years election shall see close to 90% of the current crop of MP’s get back to parliament, the other 10% will come from the so called youth. The 10% youth will eventually get corrupted by the system and then later turn out to be worse than their predecessors. We therefore need to do a total purge and refuse to vote. I say refuse because there is absolutely no way that a Kenyan politician will agree to step down after tasting the 800,000 per month from the public coffers. They have to be forced out of office. I challenge any Kenyan who wants to see a country without arrogant self serving politicians to abstain from voting.
As the populace refuses to vote, the politicians whose mandate ends in 5 years shall be forced to step down according to THEIR law and therefore it is the attorney general who has security of tenure who shall run the country in the meantime. The people shall then force the AG by way of petitions to make sure that the aforementioned suggestions are implemented in the shortest time possible, and then an election of fresh people shall be conducted. Indeed when the people perceive that it is not a fight between political parties but a fight between the rulers and the ruled, then all this will begin to make sense.
Are We inherently Stupid o wat?!
Amidst my packing and a very exciting weekend, I intermittently read some book titled the capitalist nigger.
This Nigerian author apparently got my attention because of the bland way in which he castigates people of the black race as being intellectually inferior to those of the white. Am a hardcore diehard proponent of black intergration with white, solely for the reason that we are equal in all respects.
Reading this book has really made me view things slightly differently. The dude falters quite a bit when he says that there are absolutely no black inventors since days of yore. He recognizes the pyramid thingy and the great monuments of Zimbabwe and mali, but that’s about it.
A friend of mine was equally incensed by the book, and took it upon himself to send me a list of black inventors…thanks a lot erico…
The list has quite a number of interesting inventions, some of which are laughable but inventions all the same.
One black guy took it upon himself to invent a casket lowering device. Yaani kishukisho cha jeneza.
Another one invented a biscuit cutter and yet still another one invented a pastry fork. It was interesting to read that a black man invented peanut butter. In as much as we all know that Graham bell invented the telephone, the black inventors list shows that the phone in its current form was invented by a black man (Granville Woods, Dec2 1884). Shock so complete, one Henry Sampson invented the cellular phone in 1971.H.A Jackson, another black, invented the kitchen table.
Anyhow, there are lots of inventions that the capitalist nigger overlooked that the black race actually invented. His anger stems from the fact that the black race has failed to commercialize their inventions, hence making them economically crippled to take care of their own.
It was not lost to him that the black man is the most booksmart race in his adopted country America. However, this smartness never translates into significant economic gain as a race. A good case in example is the fact that the NBA is 88% black but not a single black man owns a team in the same league. Small wonder then that we are always slaves to the master.
Now there is some bogged theory that Noahs son Ham molested him while he was drunk and asleep. He later went and told his brothers the story and they came over and covered their dad. Previously, Noah had blessed Ham and so he could not curse him. Eventually he cursed his grandson Cush, that he will be the slave of his brothers and cousins. Cushites come from cush who happens to be the father of all blacks… hence some scholars believe that the servitude started way back.
Back to my story…
Indians, Chinese, Japanese etc have really taken over the world with their genius in ALL spheres of life. They ensure that we eat their food, wear their clothes and buy their stuff. We on the other hand are an all consuming society that depends on others to make stuff for them to consume. Our food, clothes etc are considered inferior because we allow them to think we are inferior.
Controversial the book is and it serves to stir up our mind and gear us towards thinking more about self reliance than just being servants of the master.
He suggests the spider web mentality that the Indians adopt to become successful.. Basically, once a shilling gets into the Indian system, it never leaves. This is because an Indian will go to an Indian restaurant, he will buy an Indian car, he will buy Indian clothes etc.
A black guy on the other hand, will earn millions, he will eat Chinese food, he will wear Italian suits and he will hire Japanese architects etc. The millions he has made will all leave the black race in that way and keep enriching the Caucasians.
The dude quips..are we inherently stupid?!
Of strange thoughts and A.D.D
I am perfectly sure that I do not suffer from Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)… Usually, people think that I know lots of things. I guess it’s because I can actually tell you stuff that is very strange and quite out of this world.
My brain tends to select stuff that is more fiction than practical. I am inclined to be completely oblivious of my immediate surroundings. Small wonder then that I cannot remember the number plate of my car, but I know that it’s impossible for someone to lick their elbow.
Many times my boss gets a tad irritated by me. By all standards, he considers me to be a clever chap. He often gives me ad hoc assignments that I couldn’t care about but I keep a note all the same. The boss of me can come and ask me the name of his would be Portuguese partner currently living in Maputo. I would give him this blank look like… where the hell would I know his name from, only to remember 5 seconds later that we actually held a meeting with him the previous week!
Strange, because I know that if you put grapes in a microwave, they would explode. I also know that by law, it is criminal to own a female donkey in Limuru (small town in Kenya).
The one time, I went for a party with my pals to a nearby location. Hmm, that was a pretty laid back party but we had lots of innocent fun. The bash ended at 8pm and we set for another party which was actually closer to my place. As fate would have it, I needed to go collect some cd’s to spice up the groove. I borrowed a friend’s car and off I went. The drive was pretty short and I took like 10 minutes to get home, pick out the cd’s and was on my way back.
I was a little tipsy as I took the exact direction to the first party. I engaged my self in dramatic thoughts as I wondered why it is impossible to sneeze with your eyes open. It disturbed me that I know no African dialect that has an exact word meaning “Maintenance!”
Just then, I got to a roadblock and the blue dressed traffic cop raised his right palm to motion me to stop. Talk about coincidence as I thought of how funny it was that I was very near GrandPalm hotel along Mogoditshane road and here was this audacious cop raising his PALM in GRAND style…. Eish the things I think about.
Now, I was drunk and I did not have my license. On a previous occasion, my pal was caught drunk and he failed the breathalyzer. He had to suffer 8,000 Pula in lawyer’s fees for court appearances whereas he should have just declined to take the test and perhaps ran away, only to pay 300 in various fines.
As I approached this cop, my mind was doing all manner of tumble turns… I would be damned if this guy caught me like this. I slowed down to a crawl as I edged towards the kerb. Without notice, I engaged gears and was off like a bat from hell. Vrooooooooooooom and I was away. From the rear view mirror, I saw the dude motion his friend to give chase. All this time I was half wondering how much portion of the tax I pay is used for buying jail food, and perhaps if for once they could serve Hungarian goulash at Christmas.
Three sharp turns later, I had lost the cops and was at the gate of the first party. The security guy let me in and I was shocked to realize that the whole yard was empty. Then it hit me. Darn we had moved from here eons ago. My forgetfulness had almost cost me jail time or at best a fine.
I found my way to the party about an hour later, within which time I had gotten lost about 3 more times.
To date, my ex and her friend are sure that I had gone to hanky panky somewhere…reason being, no one can be that forgetful.
Anger most foul
Imagine you just got fired from your job. You are angry as hell. At this moment in time, you could crush a marble between yo thumb and index finger. Forget that, you are soooo angry that if you got any angrier you could turn into potential energy, kinetic or whatever.
You have been suspecting that your galfriend is cheating on you. Worse, you think it is your best friend she is cheating with.
You hop into your car and drive off to nowhere in particular coz your head is in a spin. The temple is throbbing and there are a million ways in which you could get your boss to taste like chicken roast…. The pressure builds…..
Its times like these when the libido rises. It is the death of you (xplanation to follow) Yeah true, scientists have proved that during funerals, people are more prone to sexual excitement than any other time. The reasoning they say stems from the fact that humans are engineered to protect their species from extinction.
So, when someone dies, the brain registers that there is one less person and hence we are closer to extinction than the time before that person died. Hormones are released that invoke sexual feelings to continue the species……..
So you drive home, your thoughts toggling from the comfort of your girlfriends embrace and the stake you could drive gleefully through you bosses eye socket. You park your car, and stroll to your apartment. Open the door nonchalantly, take the turn to your room where you can’t remember having left your stereo on….. aah then you remember that she has a key to your house. You are not particularly shocked because she usually comes to chill over when you are at work, so you tiptoe stealthily to surprise her. Yeah, you got fired at 2.00 PM and you usually get home at 7.00PM.
As you open the door, you see your best friend atop your gal romping away to the rhythm of SHE FUCKEN HATES ME……..
Stop! Freeze frame……….!
You have a kitchen knife, steak knife, nyundo, hockeystick, matchbox….. the music changes to milli vanillis IT’S A TRAGEDY FOR ME TO SEE THE DREAM IS OVER…
What do u do………?
Here are the options:
1) Let out a low guttural howl and say “by george what are you doing?” like duh!
2) Gauge out his eyes and make her eat them without chumvi or sauce or vice versa
3) Tie them up together naked then shove them out your 4th floor apartment window.
4) Bludgeon both to death with the nyundo then make them manure for yo potplants
5) Sit down and cry very loudly like a professional mourner from luo nyanza.
6) FAINT
7) Join them for a threesome (Yuck!)
8) Make sure they see you then politely excuse yourself
9) Heat a fork and insert it up both their fart holes
10) Take a picture of them and post it to both their parents
11) SPIT and say tho tho tho (vernacular)
12) Propose to her hastily (it must be your fault that she is cheating)
13) Ask your best friend to beat her up if he wants you to forgive him…he should make sure she loses all hearing in her left ear (it must be her fault she is cheating)
14) Kill them then frame your ex-boss
15) PRAY
I think I would walk in and pretend I didn’t see anything. I would continue talking to them like I would any other day…. Then I would take the knife and start sharpening it as they watch… all the while talking in the friendliest tone I can muster….
I would continue visiting both of them with the same knife and keep sharpening it until they think am mad. I will keep stalking them in that way for a full year. Then I will hook up with someone else and tell them I was just pretending….. takes guts and xter to do that.
Let me know wat you would do… male or female (just reverse roles)
British Nyang'au
Like I said in my previous post, I was quite the trickster when it came to British bulldog. I used to fungua my miguu top speed towards one direction, then change route without notice. That was my idea of a side-step. Well, it worked really well for me. I used to weave and wind the class as they dived and chased after me. The adrenalin was superior.
Now, i chekked in for my first rooj practice feeling all fit and fab. Our mentors, cruel people I must say employed tactics from early 14th century where they used to smash yo head in with a 76 kilogram mallet to see if you will tell them where the other soldiers were hiding. The guys were daft. They kill you then they expect you to answer them. This crude method of torture actually worked. You can imagine if your best friends head was smashed in and you were next!! Caramba…you would howl out all the hiding places you knew even those that existed in yo sorry best friends smashed brain.
Anyhow, we got to the pitch and briefly we were told that rugby has only 4 pertinent rules.
1) do not jump for the ball under any circumstance
2) always pass the ball backwards
3) endeavor to place the ball behind the posts
4) Never let anyone of the opposite go past you whilst carrying the ball or else they would use the famed mallet on you.
Our masters believed in more action and less talk. Immediately they summoned one of us rabbles to demonstrate.
“Hey rabble…!” thundered one black nyakach ninja with thighs that looked like 45-popeyes. “C’mere….. Cough your noun!@$#’ Dutifully the trembling rabble said his name. Before he could take his next breath, Mr. Nyakach ninja threw the ball high into the air and yelled at Nyangau (his real kisii name meaning warthog or some crazy animal like that) to jump and catch it.
Reflex action checked in and Nyangau leapt into the air like someone just stuck cacti in his gluteus minimae .
The next scene happened in slow motion
Nyangau was in the air, arms spread high over his head as they closed in on the ball. We were all fraught with fear, mouths open like our lives depended on Nyangau catching the oval ball. His eyes were wide his lips pursed like some rude body part….. as he got closer and closer to catching the ball, his mouth started relaxing and I promise I could see a hint of a smile…. Our baby hearts were pounding so hard we could have given the Kenya navy band a ran for their money…..
Just then, the nyakach ninja, black as sin, ugly as a fist, quick as lightening leapt into the air towards poor Nyangau. The boys ribs were exposed and nyakach was approaching like an asteroid recently spurt!
Wham! Thoch! Crack! The two met in the air, nyakachs shoulder in nyangau’s midriff, arms around him, hurtling towards us. We moved and they rolled a mile from where we were. Nyangau lay on the ground, air having been expunged from his miscellaneous orifices…. He was carried to the sanatorium as the rest of us learnt never to jump in rugby.
A month later we were deadly as venom duly injected. I applied all my British bulldog skills and I became an instant celeb. Not quite though…. This guy nyangau had already recuperated and had learnt the art of evasion from his first lesson.
I could take one step to the left at incredible speeds and turn just about immediately to the right, leaving my opponents flat footed. Nyangau on the other hand was cross-eyed. And his legs were in the form of an x. He could ran too… when he ran he looked like he was doing the boogywalk (run?) in electric boogaloo!
No one could catch this bugger. When you looked into his eyes as he approached, it was like he was set to ran left. Rugby being a split second game, you would anticipate and ran left. Lo and behold…you would be left clutching nothing but air or even worse, your teammate’s angry arse. Just when you think you have figured him out, he would look the other direction and you would be left clutchin grass.
This guy was an enigma. All he had to do was ran straight and look in whichever direction he chose to look….it would be comedy because the opposite team would be seen running in all sorts of directions as the dude boogieran to the try line…..
Huh so you think you have figured him out and you decide to look at his legs..my my he left many a determined player more cross-eyed than he was with unevenly placed knees crisscrossing each other without rhythm.
The lessons were learnt early and quick. Thanks to this man, that year we were the best school in rugby in the whole country.
British bulldog
As a student at one of Kenya’s premiere high schools, I enjoyed the game of rugby immensely. It would make my day if I managed to send an unsuspecting opponent the wrong way as the crowd cheered on.
I must admit that I had an advantage when I checked into first form in as far as this sport is concerned. I had had at least four years experience playing British Bulldog, which was a similar game to rugby, only without the ball. It went something like this..
In order to pick who would be the chaser (no one ever wanted to be the chaser) one had to play the hix. The first three people chosen at random would hold hands and swing them in tune to a song that went thus
Hix hex and smelling socks!!
By the time you get to the word socks, the group (now holding hands) would have swung their hands four times back and forth in tandem, at which point the hands would be released and quickly shoved into the centre of the circle (triangle?) with either palm up or palm facing downwards. Whoever had the odd palm would leave the triangle, making him the winner of that round.
The above exercise would be repeated by replacing the winner with a newbie until all those willing to play get a chance to hix. At the end, two people would remain, and one of the winners would help hix. The person that remains would be in deep trouble…. Let the game begin….
Life is cruel. Somehow, the dweeb of the class or one of his friends always used to get caught out in the hix game. They had no idea that guys used to wink or use some other sign so that they show opposite hands and hence stand a better chance of winning. Imagine, u are in the first group to hix, then you remain within the triangle until the last round of hixing…eish..it was the most traumatizing experience… it would crack us all up as we watched a loser criss and cross his legs, all the while tip toeing as if that would help. We had all passed there at one stage or the other….for those who never played hix, it was more like when the invigilator says 10 minutes to go (to the end of an exam) and u have 20 more questions to answer….
One feels like either peeing or is it cumming? You criss and cross your legs like that will help you remember answers and write faster…. Mmh we have all been there… its called the hix syndrome.
The dweeb of the class must have cumm(pee) like a thousand times. When I think about it in hindsight, it must have been deliberate for him and his cronies to keep being last. Its like the mwenjoyo was too much.
Okay..the game.
Now the last person would get into the middle of the pitch and call whomever he thought he could catch before they crossed to the other end of the pitch. On catching the person, an authentic catch would constitute shouting “one two three british bulldog) while still holding onto the persons shirt or wateva. The guy would then have to help you call out peeps and catch them in similar fashion. If the person you called managed to dodge you and get to the other end of the pitch, then the whole multitude of players would cross to the the same side. All the while, you as the chaser would be trying to catch others as the cross.
Suffice is to say I was always in the last two to be caught. I would dodge a whole class on my own almost three times. Even then they would only catch me coz I would get tired. The other guy was called Ben Collins…. He was very old (we were in primary school). The guy was from Liberia, he had hair allova himself. He was as big as George Weah (at least that’s what our kid minds saw). Imagine we used to pay like one bob in the bus because we were kids. As the conductor reached him one day and he meekly gave out his one bob. “Mzee wacha mchezo” (old man stop playing games) said the irritated conductor. Plead as he might, he had to pay the full adult fare of 2 bob… that was the british bulldog star.
To be continued……
King(ky?)
Before king met her, he had gone for 53 days without showering because he resented rules that so far had governed his life. You see, king had a rich father who was a devout catholic. As you can guess, king became an altar boy at a very young age. He served diligently and knew all the canons by heart. At home, he had to be scrupulously clean and knew that dinner was at 7.30 and not 7.29.45. This was the life of king before he came to campus.
During his 53 day defiance stint, he smelled like mulch and looked like a hungry walrus.
My other pals and I intentionally ate dinner at 7.30 sharp so that we can avoid eating with him. His defiance had taken knew proportions. When he finally laid eyes on Regina, I got my chance to make my buddy clean once and for all. My story was… “dude, smelling and looking like that, you have as much chance of kissing her as George bush would as a mau mau freedom fighter”. My guy nodded. Anything for Regina. He showered a river. It was muddy I must say. He needed Palmolive, lifebuoy, manila soap (the one that used to be cut by manila string) and perfumed detergent to get him on foam (form?)…
King was ready…
My man king had never seen such a beautiful girl in his life. According to him, she was as hot as an oven in the Kalahari. Indeed, he firmly believed that her bodily proportions embodied much more than the perfect ratio PHI. I sometimes used to wonder whether his mouth could see better than his eyes whenever he saw her. His jaw would drop so low, he looked like a porpoise in labor.
King promised me that he was going to get this girl by hook or crook. The only problem was he was painfully shy. We were all abrasive and used to sing loud rugby songs..many a time making fun of king. Given, he was an averagely good looking guy with lots of money. He was going for a very beautiful chic with lots of money too. It was funny. More like shabba ranks macking on charlize theron….. okay fine, bad example shabba ranks is not average looking.
Regina was one these sophisticated girls. She came from a family that had history. The kind of history that you cannot lie about or make-up because it is written in books by real authors.
She was a devout catholic. She drank water with a straw. She ate cabbages and lettuce in such a way you would think she was eating the best soy latte that u ever had. She was on a perpetual diet.
Imagine her shock when two drunken men check into her room to say hi. I had nothing to lose so I was the first one in… king was tailing me but not so close. I said hi and she smiled.. a bit nervous but she held her cool. King came through and opened his mouth to say hi… the mouth opened and stuck open like one of those stammerers who sometimes cant get the words out on time. We stood a full 11 seconds waiting for sound to come out of kings mouth…. He sensed our bewilderment and I could see him muster all he had to say something….. he opened his mouth even wider… for a minute there I thought I could see his underwear periscopically… then he turned and ran. He took of soo fast that by the time I got to the door, he was nowhere in the hostel.
I sat and explained to Regina that King had never seen anyone so beautiful etc etc. Apparently she was intrigued and couldn’t believe that anyone would like her so much so as to go drink themselves silly then not even get the words out to say hi. I left. King was in the room sitting on his bed, furious at his mouth for failing him at his moment of glory. He had confessed the most hideous of sins to a priest in the confessional but could not say hi to some chic.(talk about gal power)
Anyhow, they met the next Sunday in church. She approached him after mass and wanted to know what that was all about. King, more at ease now, managed to walk her all the way to campus from church, saying the bare minimum to keep her engaged. As luck would have it, engaged they were 3 years later. They got married and had a kid.
Fast forward
Regina got a job and with frienditism employed all of us including her husband. Effectively, we were field officers and she was our boss. She would send us on assignments two by two but with time she learnt that we (single) and king should never be put together. Much as king was the boss at home, she was the boss at office and her word was law.
One day, some demon (he swears that’s what it was) entered his head. We would go out for a drink, and he would go home late and sneak into the maids servants quarters. 30 minutes later, he would appear in the main house all sate and if need be, have another round with unsuspecting wife. (Sorry gals don’t shoot me..am just narrating).
From Reginas point of view, she would hear the characteristic screech of brakes that only Peugeots make, however softly u depress the pedal. Since she would be groggy and asleep, she thought maybe she was just dreaming. 30 minutes later, the guy would pitch. This went on for like 2 months. The 30 minute consistency was too much coincidence and she became suspicious.
Clever Regina one day waited for the opportune time. At 12 midnight, she walked into the maids quarters and and instructed her to go sleep in the main house. She proceeded to switch off the lights and wait. Fifteen minutes later, the familiar screetch of braked happened and she knew she had caught her man…..
King parked his car with ease as he usually did. His wife was deep asleep and his willy was as stiff as an iceberg in mid-winter. He approached the servants quarters stealthily, opened the door without knocking , left the lights off and proceeded to remove his trousers……
My man king apparently was a man of more action than words, he said nothing and felt his way to the bed. He groped the body that was affront him. He touched both hip and boob in practiced fashion and immediately froze like our mid-winter iceberg… This body felt just toooooo familiar. His worst fears were confirmed when the figure in bed got up and switched on the light.
He can’t begin to describe how his stiffy became flaccid in no more than 40 milliseconds. He could not move he could not say sorry and he could not block the punches and kicks that assaulted him. He just watched the movie outta his own skin. The pain was numbed by the embarrassment.
Obviously the maid was fired. Yeah she also got beat.
My man almost divorced. Am happy to say, she forgave him. We still have drinks together till late. When we roast meat or chicken to eat, he does not eat with us. Instead, he wraps his portions and takes it home, wakes his wife and they eat together. He has sworn that never again shall he be unfaithful to his wife. That is why he confessed the story to us in front of his wife.
We all had a good laugh when she remarked that when she switched on the light, he reminded her of the day he first entered her room and couldn’t say hi. His mouth remained open for the duration….
She is still our gal and we love her to bits.
