How I Spent My Christmas Holiday

5
20th Dec When I go to pick up Tamms from the salon I see him still seated there waiting for his woman. He’s slouched in his chair, his long legs running endlessly before him like a chocolate-coloured river in Congo. His feet are noticeably large, the size of a preterm baby. He has sandals on – the areas between his toes are flour white. He sips from a porcelain cup balanced on the arm of his chair. His woman is under the dryer;  a big woman with cheeks you want to pinch twice. I sat there and wondered why a grown man would sit in a salon and wait for his woman when he could do a million things to fill that time. What exactly would a woman have to give you to make you wait for her inside a goddamn salon for hours on end as she touches up her bob haircut? You just sitting there in the stewing broth of oestrogen and progesterone, reading those dated and dog-eared girlie magazines, taking up all the room with your long legs? Is that love? Idleness? Stoicism? Patience? 25th Dec I sat upstairs at Java Kileleshwa on Christmas morning. I had a bitch of a flu; my head weighed like a brick, my mouth tasted like wet ballast. Christmas jingles spilled softly from the speakers overhead. The 8 a.m. light was soft, warm and seductive. We were a total of three patrons, all men. The other two chaps were engrossed on their iPhones. They never looked up. I sat at the window, fired up my laptop and read an article on Tatler by Jilly Cooper who I had just discovered. If I met Jilly Cooper’s wonderful mind in a bar having glass after glass of sangria and we drunk some more and talked and laughed and her mind turned to me, locked eyes with mine and said, “Listen, I like inappropriate men like you, let’s go back to my place,” I would ask her mind, “Are you ovulating?” and pray that she said yes because the world needs lots and lots of Jilly Coopers. She’s  hysterical. Her mind is like an overripe avocado. Later I ordered eggs and toast with a side order of guacamole, then I started pecking away on the laptop. By the way, have you noticed that the rotary fan that hangs over the staircase at this Java is branded “Big Ass Fan”? I swear.  I stopped what I was writing and Googled ‘big ass fans’ and sure enough they were an American company called Big Ass Solutions, makers of fans for industrial, commercial and residential usage. Somewhere in Lexington there are employees, fathers and mothers, who when you meet in social functions are proud to say, “I work for Big Ass Solutions.” I don’t want to imagine the type of conversations that guys at the Java management office have. Might go something like this: Someone sticks his head around a doorway in an office and tells their colleague, “Hey, how’z it?” “Sharp. What’s up?” “What are our people doing about the big ass at Kileleshwa branch?” “We have a big ass at Kileleshwa branch?” “Do you work here?” “Haha. What’s up with the big ass?” “I don’t know but something’s wrong with it.” “The big ass isn’t moving?” “Still like Sunday.” “Oh boy. I will get James to handle it.” “James is on leave.” “Well, one of his people can handle it, then.” “No, they can’t. Only James handles big asses.” “Ok, fine, let me try and call him from leave.” Then maintenance would ring James. “James, sasa? How is your leave, are you in shags?” “No, I’m in Nai.” “Good, because we have a big ass problem.” “Oh boy, what’s the problem now? “I just told you, big ass!” “Oh.” “Yeah, you have to come.” “I’m coming.” Shakespeare should have lived during these times, he wouldn’t have said a rose called by any name would still smell as sweet.

      ***

An hour later, I drove around because it was so beautiful and peaceful (or “pisiful” as Kisiis say). I fuelled at Shell Waiyaki Way (before their scandal), paid by Mpesa and Safaricom offered me a whole 1 min FREE talktime for paying by Mpesa. (I couldn’t believe it. Is there an end to their bottomless generosity?) I then slowly drove down a deserted James Gichuru, past Lavington Green and right after Isaac Gathanju Road I passed a muslim guy in a long flowing kanzu, a crate of soda hoisted up on his right shoulder, walking right in the middle of the road, on the broken yellow line. Felt like armageddon. I was playing Teddy Pendergrass, which is the worst possible selection of artists that one can play on Christmas Day. On Gitanga Road, at the Valley Arcade stage, an Indian man stood carrying a potted flower against his chest. On Dennis Pritt my father called interrupting “Somebody Told Me,” to say thanks for the Mpesa. I asked him if he was going to stay in the boma alone on Christmas and he said he was going up to have lunch with his mother. Then I pictured my mom’s grave in that empty boma on Christmas Day. Mom spending her Christmas alone. Boy, was I blue after that? So I killed Pendergrass. 2nd Jan. I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in ages at Aga Khan Hospital. She was standing carrying a New-Year baby in a swatch of shawl at the exit of the Maternity Wing. I parted the cloth slightly to reveal a pink brand new baby with peeling raw-looking cheeks. “She’s gorgeous!” I lied. (Newborns are not gorgeous). She said she was waiting for her husband to bring around the car from the parking lot. “Oh you must meet him,” she gushed, “He’s such a big fan.” So we stood there and waited. And waited. And waited. At some point I turned to her, “He is coming for you guys, right?” I asked somberly, “I think he got cold feet.” Somehow she found that funny because she laughed so hard I thought she would drop the baby. 22nd Dec. I know a guy at Jamia Mosque who sells clothes. One of those “Fendi Men,” a dapper guy, never a hair out of place. He says things like, “Niko na look kali sana yako.” I like him, he makes me laugh with his rich colourful language which sometimes I suspect he makes up. He calls me “bazenga”, a sheng word to mean “boss.” Anyway I go to his shop, pick and fit this shoe that I like, and then this guy comes from nowhere and picks the left shoe of the same pair. I picked it first so it’s mine, right? I loudly tell my Fendi guy (for the other guy to hear) that I will take the shoe but the other guy pretends not to hear. When my Fendi guy tells him that the shoe has been taken he remains adamant, he won’t give it back, says he likes it too. So we are both holding onto one shoe of the same pair, like some type of shoe-stand off. I don’t want to address him and tell him he’s being ridiculous but he looks like one of those guys who would not reason constructively because he has a silver ring on his pinky finger. I don’t think anyone – a grown man – who has the temerity to wear a ring on his small finger is of sound mind. Plus it’s a few days to Christmas, a time for love, not of splitting hairs over a shoe. What this guy does next is to tuck the one shoe under his arm while he goes on to look at shirts, a demonstration that the shoe is his and he is willing to hold out for as long as it takes. He has time, and a pinky ring. I’m outnumbered by foolishness. I look at the Fendi guy like, “Is this really happening in 2016?”and he’s at loss because we are both his customers. He’s faced with the same conundrum King Solomon had when he had to choose who the real mother of the child was. I could easily have told the Fendi guy who the child belonged to. I eventually back down and hand the Fendi guy the shoe. I conceded not because I was wrong but because he had put that shoe under his armpit. I didn’t want to start my 2017 with a shoe that a man with a ring on his little finger had put under his armpit. I don’t think I would have achieved my full potential in 2017 with a shoe like that. 26th Dec “Do you still remember your mom’s number?” She asked. “Of course!” I said. “07226315–” She lost her father right before I lost my mom. Her father grew a long beard right before passing, got close to God, prayed often, then he fell down and died. She was devastated. She says how growing up she would come back from high school and place her head on his laps and he would stroke her hair like a baby. She slept in the same bed with her father until she was 13. In India, she had sat, slept by him and nursed him for a whole month as cancer got the better of him. She can recognise death in a crowd of life. “Are you ever tempted to call that number sometimes?” “Every few months I call it.” I said. I fetched my phone, scrolled in my phonebook for “Mum” and called it with the speakerphone on. She’s still mteja. 2nd Jan I stood at the window and watched a neighbour move out, and I marvelled at how a good looking lady like her could own such a spectacularly ugly bed. 22nd Dec Remember my last post about my mentee who was “let go” by his chic? Well, one Nkatha sent her old laptop to him to use immediately. Then Barbara sent me an email offering to send me money to buy him a new one, which didn’t happen because one Patrick had already bought and sent him a brand new one. Mr Patrick, may bountiful blessings gallop your way this year. (I always associate “bountiful” as a word that gallops, as opposed to trots.) 31st January. I took Kim to get a shave. As we rode up the four floors in the elevator, a lady smiled at him and made a face. He grabbed my leg shyly and pressed his head against my thigh. “So cute” She said, smiling at me politely. “Thanks.” I mumbled. I still suspect Kim imagined that that compliment was his.

 ***

On New Year’s Eve night, I drank two doubles of smoky, blended whisky at a friend’s house, then at 11:30pm I called an Uber that arrived with a pleasant driver called Felix. He had massive thighs, like the trunk of an old fig tree. “Let’s drive around and look for Alcoblow guys.”  I told him as I snapped in my seat belt. “Okay.” he said, as if it was a perfectly normal request that he heard everyday. We set off in silence. “Why are you looking for them?” he asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him. “One of them is married to my sister and he hasn’t been home in three days. Just out drinking.” I said straight-faced. I tried not to giggle. People will believe anything if you don’t giggle. So as the skies lit with fireworks at midnight, we drove around – James Gichuru, Argwings Kodhek, Langata Road, Mombasa Road, Thika Road – but never found them Alcoblow chaps. When he dropped me off at 2am he said, “I’m sorry for your sister.” I giggled. 6th Jan Three weeks ago Betty Kyalo and her partner Susan Kaitany invited me over to look around their new yet-to-be-launched spa – Posh Palace Hair Studio and Spa – on Sifa Towers, Lenana Road. Betty said, “You should be coming here for a haircut, we have a nice barber.” I said I was happy with Sam, my barber. “Plus, I love my wash girl, she’s fantastic! She gives great neck and head massages after and sometimes she rubs my head against her boobs during the massage and it makes this fractured world feel so secure.” They laughed. “Who is she?” they insisted, “We want her!” Of course I refused to divulge her name. She is mine! “But no, seriously,” I said, “it’s not easy to just change barbers, it’s complicated.” Susan asked incredulously, “What do you mean, complicated?” “Because we are men,” I said, “We can’t just change our barbers on a whim. I have had Sam for almost ten years now, literally my whole 30’s. If another barber touched my head I would be riddled with guilt. I’d feel like I cheated on him.” Betty rolled her eyes. “I wish you men would remain that faithful to your women like you do to your barbers and mechanics.” Susan, one arm akimbo, nodded virtuously. So they invited me for a haircut and a massage. I went back last Friday (Terrific place, by the way, they should have called it Very Posh Palace Hair Studio and Spa). I got a haircut from a gentleman called Armstrong with skin as dark as wet coal, a rich beautiful dark chocolate. He’s 33, studied Counselling Psychology but was lured to cutting hair, his passion. He’s from Eregi. (That’s in Western, for you who haven’t gone past Naivasha). He said he has been cutting hair for years. “I do house-calls for Sauti Sol and also Bruce Odhiambo.” He said proudly. “Kids?” I asked. “Three, one, the eldest is from outside though, we luhyas have to have one child from outside,” He winked in the mirror. I almost winked back. “What’s all that about, by the way?” I asked. “I don’t know, it’s just the way it is.” “Does your wife know about this child?” “Oh yeah, before we even started dating, I told her about him and even introduced them. She is fine with it.” I keenly watched him cut my beard. Last time I went to a different barber in Kisumu the guy cut almost all of it off. I was mortified! I left the barber shop feeling like a cock without a crown. My face felt naked and cold. I had walked into the shop a cock and left a feather duster. “Is this size, OK?” he asked. “I think so,” I said turning my head slightly to the side. “What do you think?” “Let’s trim this side just a bit.” “Go for it.” So he trimmed it delicately, like he was cutting off an offending appendix. “Are you paying school fees for this child?” I asked. “Yes.” “You are not just saying that, are you, kumbe when it’s time to pay you don’t pick her calls?” He grinned. “No, no, I pay every term.” “Good. Good. You should, even if you are a Luhya.” I winked in the mirror. He laughed. “Do you like a cut here?” He asked indicating my hairline. I nodded. “Why didn’t it work with the mother, anyway?” I pressed on. “Well, she was Muslim and her mother wanted me to convert in order to be with her daughter but I couldn’t, so we parted. She was Ugandan.” “And where is your current from?” “Taita.” “Waah, from Uganda to Taita, the legend of Armstrong sweeps across the land.” We laughed. Then I realised it’s unfair not to declare that I’m a writer. “I will write about you.” I said, he said Sawa, where? I said a small blog that nobody reads. He looked unbothered. I will say this without embellishing it; Armstrong is a fantastic barber. Take that to the bank. He’s very delicate, dexterous and warm. He also has a very good laid back vibe and his shaver is enslaved to him. Or maybe it’s the other way round. I later got a wash and a head massage from Julia the wash girl (not nearly as good as my wash girl) then later a Swedish Massage from Eunice. (Sublime). Later Betty and Susan asked if I had changed my mind about coming to their shop for my weekly haircut but I said no. Sam and I have come from far. “Should Sam retire to shags,” I said, “Or decide to open a barber shop in Kitui, or resort to pig farming, then I will definitely come.” They wore long faces. I don’t know how I will face Sam next week with evidence on my head. I’m sure he will be silently impressed by Armstrong’s handiwork, but he won’t say shit because he’s a proud man and his pride won’t allow him to imagine that I even considered someone else. He will probably ask, “Kwani ulisafiri?” and when I say no, he will know for sure that another man had touched my head. Then there will be that brief but weighty unspoken tension, the air over my head will be heavy as he shaves me and I will wish that they install one of those Big Ass Fans in there to scatter that heavy fog.

Discover more from Bikozulu

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

193 Comments

    1. Kate…truly u waited for this to b 1st. Ata am aure u commntd b4 reading the story. Hahaha
      Happy New Year Mr. Chocolate Man. I guess am the last hia..gotta swtch of the lights

      Reply

    1. You should have held whatever device you are reading this on under your arm… until kate gives up the “got here first” position

      Reply

      2. Ik,r? But this Biko guy needs a shrink. aki!!! I have laughed so hard and so loud. I know I will hear this from my boss.

        Reply

  4. Aaaaah, he’s back! Happy New Year Chocolate man! So now your pal will read this and know that you lied when you said her new born baby is gorgeous .. LOL.

    Reply

  7. “…I stood at the window and watched a neighbour move out, and I marvelled at how a good looking lady like her could own such a spectacularly ugly bed…” beautiful sentence! Happy New Year!

    Reply

  15. Hehehe for sure you had a Halcyon festive season. The number of time i have cracked up while reading this piece is uncountable. Perfect way to kick start the year.
    ‘I stood at the window and watched a neighbour move out, and I marvelled at how a good looking lady like her could own such a spectacularly ugly bed.’ But whyyyy? I HAVE LAUGHED HARD.

    Reply

  19. Hahaa Chocolate Man is back with a bang, your wash girl though..that shit feels nice, makes a man frequent a barber for over a decade hehe, Biko we are all seated and seat belts fastened, ready to roll in 2017. Happy New Year.

    Reply

      2. I’ve been waiting for the first blog post in 2017. I can proudly say it has been worth the wait.
        “She gives great neck and head massages after and sometimes she rubs my head against her boobs during the massage and it makes this fractured world feel so secure.”
        PS:Send directions hata mimi nataka hiyo.

        Reply

  23. It’s always hard for us to change those who attended our hair and those that attend our moti.. I can totally relate..

    Reply

  24. Wololos! You’ve carried the first one madness into 2017?
    Happy New Year Biko! Glad you’re back! Lonely Christmas; very weird New Years Eve;
    I bet you the shoe guy probably reads your blog…
    Babies are cute btw, but the Father Abraham wannabes from Luhya land aren’t!
    They should quit that crap.

    Reply

    1. I thought I was the one imagining my own dates, then again I thought he had just thrown the dates around in no particular order, but when I saw 31st Jan I knew the chocolate man hasnt woken up from the festive hangdown yet

      Reply

    1. I too saw what Biko did there…Biko, the compliment was for Kim and you concluded it’s yours. Yawa! gift it to Kim already

      Reply

  30. Good piece Biko. I’d say my holiday was better but that would just be for shits and giggles. Literally.
    http://www.extralaudinary.com/i-shit-myself-at-a-party/

    Reply

  31. hahahhaha! ati he wont say shit cus he’s proud..I hate salon whoring as well but sometimes its unavoidable..As for Amstrong being a Lunje and having an outside kid, very funny

    Reply

  32. She gives great neck and head
    massages after and sometimes she rubs my
    head against her boobs during the massage and
    it makes this fractured world feel so secure.” day made

    Reply

  35. Well, as you spent your Christmas violating your hair, winking mischievously and involuntarily switching barbers at the expense of the unblemished loyalty enjoyed by Sam, I was watching even more people’s lives unravel right before my eyes. In the highlights were Millennials complaining how they are jumping into 2017 single. AGAIN! Let me tell you something. Remember before Whatsapp when no one cared what you had for breakfast, or if you are taken or taken for granted? Well, they still don’t. Dear single ladies, please stop saying you should give up on men and get a cat; If no man wants you please don’t force an innocent cat to live with you. But that is none of my business. My business is to find that lady who successfully rubs Biko’s big forehead on her boobies. I want her to use me too… am sure she can rub off my ego two..

    Reply

    1. well said,like you said while punish an innocent cat haha?ladies life is too short to live with an animal-read pet-in the same house. we all need a touch from behind on the shoulder from a hand.a pat on the back you know.

      Reply

  37. Really Biko ???
    I didn’t want to start my 2017 with a shoe that a man with a ring on his little finger had put under his armpit.
    I don’t think I would have achieved my full potential in 2017 with a shoe like that.

    Reply

  38. Hahaha Biko you are hilarious. Why make the Uber Driver think you are a crazy In-Law? Happy New Year Chocolate Man. Oh n us ladies change our hair stylists A LOT. I know i do.

    Reply

  39. Nice read Chocolate man, I can easily relate to your barber story. Last time I changed barbers…I closed my eyes and after he was done I couldn’t believe what I saw. My head was bald and he had decided to give me that Channel-O look around my mouth.It was just horrific!!

    Reply

  45. Jackson! I almost broke my phone(threw it because i needed free hands to animate the laugh) because you decided to look for alcohol blow guys. You should have called instead because I had cuffs to dispose. Imagine being cuffed at 1:43am. 1st.

    Reply

  48. Hehe… That part where Kim thinks the compliment was his! Alafu what if kina Betty ‘bought’ your wash girl, would you consider their posh palice?

    Reply

  52. You’re a great wordsmith.. “I still suspect Kim imagined that
    that compliment was his.” Hehehe… reminds me of
    Two and Half men.

    Reply

  54. Happy New year Biko.I have been looking forward to this read and i must say am ticked by your writting all the time………ati ….You just sitting there in the stewing broth of oestrogen and progesterone, reading those dated and dog-eared girlie magazines, taking up all the room with your long legs? i die.lmao.Aweomeness.I loved it!

    Reply

  55. wow!Icoudn’t wait for the break to end.Love your Bikolets,the gang for coming through for that left man with a laptop and MONEY.As always it was a refreshing read.Please consider Posh Palace.Sam is a man,he can get over it fast.

    Reply

  57. A happy happy new year Biko. Now, tell me what will happen on 20th since you have already spent your 31st January?? I love how you dangle the story… always explode in laughter like a mad man!!! That shoe story…interesting. May you hit your potential this year.

    Reply

  59. Happy new year chocolate man! Your writing makes that Christmas holiday look very interesting even though it was just kawa
    http://www.treatsonabudget.co.ke/

    Reply

  67. Biko do you laugh while writing sometimes? Because I laugh at my funny texts even before I send them and trust me they not nearly funny as yours. Happy new year Biko (I know people are tired of hearing it). Perfect piece by Biko once again

    Reply

  69. “Yeah, you have to come.”
    “I’m coming.”
    Hehe, the Big Ass Fan has to be repaired regardless of whether James is on leave or not.
    But I see what you did there.

    Reply

  77. In your ManTalk column on 31/12/2016 you wrote that like every other year on this day you go to bed at 9:30pm and you would replicate the same yet here you say you were doing rounds till 2am.I think I also need that big ass fan to clear this fog.

    Reply

  87. Hahahaha Biko… Alcoblow..Posh spas, compliments,ugly beds, newborns, the mighty gang coming through in incredible ways, children, drivers and barbers.. May 2017 be good to us all. Happy new year chocolate man :-):-)

    Reply

  88. Happy new year Biko.This first article this year is beyond hilarious..I am in mat and can’t stop myself from laughing

    Reply

  90. Happy new year!! …but….why are you taking breakfast in Java on Christmas morning???? ..nice one on the fendi guy! you dont need arm-pit mojo in 2017 🙂 🙂

    Reply

  92. So one of my new year resolutions was to move from the back bench to the front row by leaving a comment (Biko can you see my hand?) .
    Great read as always, full of humour and can be addictive at times . what do you put in your words?! I’m worried. Hehe.. Anyway happy new year gang!

    Reply

  94. Yani where you go to shave you hike a lift! Brother, you are blessed. At my
    barber’s I can’t even go with my car boss. Happy new year.

    Reply

  95. We, the community with head issues – forehead, bald-head… grab compliments from owners. And Biko is our head grabber.

    Reply

  97. I didn’t know ugly can be described as spectacularly…..nice weave of words as always Biko. After about 6 years not shaving my hair (dreadlocks and shaggy hair) can I try your Sam? I need to be eased back to kinyozi as going back to short hair.

    Reply

  99. Then I pictured my mom’s grave in that empty boma on Christmas Day. Mom spending her Christmas alone.

    this thought crossed my my mind and I just had to go to shags and be with her(grave) for xmas.Yes,I still remember her no.and call her from time to time
    Happy new year Biko!

    Reply

  108. Mmmmmm, pig farming? not a bad idea. Good read as always. (Between us, Betty and Suasn should thank you because I’ll touch at their spa soon… I trust you too much Biko but please don’t start a Kanisa, political party, gym, bar(sic) etc.)

    Reply

  111. You told the Uber guy to do what?? Ha ha ha…that part killed me. Well done on managing to hold back your giggles, you’re a strong stealer of Kim’s compliments.

    Reply

  113. I keenly watched him cut my beard. I can totally relate to that feeling it reminds me of that day one of those new barbers messed my beard.Ended up feeling miserable for a whole month. Always stay loyal to your barber. Happy New Year!

    Reply

  114. I also feel very guilty when i cheat on my barber. One time i got shaved by a woman:It was baaaad! https://josephreignsblog.wordpress.com/2017/01/04/every-mans-first/ Check that out guys!

    Reply

  117. So many good moments….God bless, what a way to start 2017. This post and the #tyresechallenge videos on instagram have made my week. Blessings.

    Reply

  119. Was all hilarious until the phone call…got me thinking of how sad it is to see “Calling Mum” and never getting a response…shed a tear …happy new year Biko

    Reply

  121. Amazing way of putting words together, i still have my dad’s phone number on my line……and he’s still mtega

    Reply

  122. …. I shed some little peepee in my pants as I read this…looking for a barbershop with a wash girl who can rub em boobs on my ears…. Happy new year Biko and le gang

    Reply

  123. Awesome Read as Always Biko.
    That Part about Ur Mum Got to Me. Touching.
    Looking Foward to Nxt Week’s Post.
    And May u Have a Blessed 2017.

    Reply

  124. I love the way this year has started. .keep up the momentum Biko. i never get notified on email on new posts yet I’ve ticked it down there. .Please help.

    Reply

  125. “Plus, I love my wash girl, she’s fantastic! She gives great neck and head massages after and sometimes she rubs my head against her boobs during the massage and it makes this fractured world feel so secure.”

    Define Head….

    Reply

  130. Welcome back Biko. Once again I am reminded why your articles are always worth reading. In my opinion. if a man can use words to make other men – not ladies because those are suckers for words – like him, then that man is worth listening to. I read this article while seated in a queue at Barclays bank TRM after i got tired of sneering at premier and prestige guys – yeah I am a hater – come and jump then queue and then leave in a sorta blaze of glory and I felt somehow engrossed back to my world of words. Oh, and the barber thing; women will never understand. My barber went for Christmas – he’s from Kabati – and I went to another sudi barber and I felt violated not no mention that he kept telling me “hapa hatuna wasichana wa kupapasa kichwa”.
    To 2017 and its words.

    Reply

  135. So as the skies lit with fireworks at midnight, we drove around – James Gichuru, Argwings Kodhek, Langata Road, Mombasa Road, Thika Road – but never found them Alcoblow chaps.
    When he dropped me off at 2am he said, “I’m sorry for your sister.”
    I giggled.

    VERY CREATIVE…as usual. Thank you for the come back

    Reply

  140. He winked in the mirror.

    I almost winked back.
    you get me laughing alone at work always.
    i’ve always been a silent reader but my new year resolution is to be commenting. my one and only resolution.

    Reply

  141. Biko, I get you, I feel the same way you do every time I go to a different hairdresser. I’ve had my hairdresser since 2007, I feel like he would know that I betrayed him and went elsewhere to do my hair.Now that I’m writing about it, it feels like a relationship,I cheat on him when I go elsewhere to get my hair done, crazy.

    Reply

  142. Happy new year Chocolate man, nice way to start my year, i promise my undivided attention each Tuesday…please don’t be late or not show up

    Reply

  145. I was looking for the other person apart from you and me that loves Jilly Cooper. I came across her work in 2010 and I have never looked back. Read her book Polo and you will tell me about it. True by the way, she is never right in the head but if she suggested, I wouldn’t turn it down even with the age difference. Good read here. Kudos.

    Reply

  149. This was a big ass read and I loved it. Finally my computer found images of Bikozulu, honestly I didn’t expect to have a moment of staring reinforced with a smile, just a big ass ugly bearded looking mguyz! Anyway it was a pisiful read (I love my people!)

    Reply

  150. Yes young babies look like over grown new born rabbits, red, squarmish and uncomfortable.Been binging on old AA Gill articles awaiting your come back.Happy new year bro and thanks forAA Gill & now Jilly Cooper w

    Reply

  156. Thanks for being honest; I find new born babies to look like reptiles..geckos to be precise. With pink skin that looks like it will peel off any minure and eyes that stare alien-style :D. I have never thought they are cute and I don’t know why people say they are. In all fairness we were all once newborns..beauty maybe in the eyes of the beholder, but I cannot say a new born is cute. .maybe I just say, “wow” as I hold them.

    Reply

  157. The irony in the statement: Betty rolled her eyes. “I wish you men would remain
    that faithful to your women like you do to your barbers and mechanics.”

    Reply

  160. Small blog that no one reads? Well me and the gazillion others who rarely comment beg to differ.
    Keep writing big guy

    Reply

  161. Gang or (Biko if you see this), is Kyalo’s first name Sam or are you cheating with another barber from Kitui?

    Reply

    1. Hello there Wangari.
      This is Mjitu from the future. It’s 2024,the big ass fan at Java was changed, I checked. Betty’s Salon went into bankruptcy at the beginning of the year and it was auctioned off. Biko still has his big ass forehead I saw him the other day and the newborn in this story is now almost 8 years old. Time flies huh?

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.