My moments of 2010

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Christmas beckons like a ghoulish character in Harry Porter. The year is pretty much a dodo. There are many things that went wrong this year, days spent in the trenches. But there were also some very great moments, very many great moments actually. So I’m not going to whine about the bad moments, not when I’m in good health.

This is my last post this year (until 3rd of January) and to finish off this year I thought I would document moments that defined the year for me. Personal stuff. So here goes.

Joining Twitter

The only reason it took me a while to join Twitter was because people I met insisted on calling it Twirra. I find that level of phoniness overbearing especially when the person saying that went to campus in Mysore….er, Mysore is in India. I imagined that it was very yuppie (Twitter, not Mysore) that guys on it are those people who where those dreadful skinny jeans that they made those poor guys in Tusker Project Fame wear (I can’t think of a worse insult to masculinity). So for the longest time I avoided Twitter but one day I joined after I was convinced of its professional merits. I like Twitter now, at least better than Facebook. The guys I follow are witty mostly and the guys who follow me are getting a raw deal because I hardly ever update, unless I’m drunk. The thing with Twitter is that you can put my pulse on what’s going on; a trend, a conversation. This keeps you in touch with people’s lives in a weird way and before long you start feeling like you know them personally. Plus, unlike Facebook, nobody bombards you with pictures of how they went to Cape Town and spent time at the beach and how their life is much better than yours and how they have better friends than you do and how they are just happy, happy, happy!

Writing for a living

This is an old hat; but I have been self employed for a whole year now. In January this year I wondered how I would get by, I wondered if freelance writing would pay all the bills. Somehow it did. Where I come from men don’t eat from plates. They eat from their egos. And where I come from a man’s ego is borne from being able to care of his shit. And to do it without whining or expecting a medal.

This year has been generally kind for me in terms of making my hay from writing. It’s kept me afloat but it’s also taught me many things that I wouldn’t have learnt if I had an 8-5. It’s taught me to prudence. It’s taught me to negotiate. To be aggressive. Taught me deadline discipline. Taught me to call someone up and say, “I swear if I don’t get that check when I show up, there gonna be blood on the floor and I can assure you it’s not going to be mine.” In my world there is no end month, there is no “pay day.” Sometimes I miss having an end month because indeed some months are tough months but those are the best months because in those months I learn something new about myself. But there is a lesson here; that there is no deep hole you can never climb out of. Unless of course you love the hole.

Hitting a man

Thursday. 7.46am. I’m rushing for a meeting at Nation center. It’s a crisp morning. I want to park at my brother’s office along Harambee Avenue. I’ve just made the turn into Harambee Avenue from Parliament road. I don’t see him. I swear I don’t. It happens in a flash. I hear a sickening cracking sound as the side mirror hits him and he doubles and his head crashes into my windbreakers. Fiberglass meets flesh; sickening. I stomp on the breaks and in the rear view mirror I see him, stooped over holding his knees with both hands. I step out of the car and trot towards him.

He is in an expensive navy blue pine-striped suit. A blue shirt. He’s still clutching onto his beige laptop bag; a Mac. His Blackberry lies shattered a few feet from him. He’s bleeding from the face, bleeding profusely. I feel people gathering, enveloping us. Just when I get to him he keels backward and plops on his ass. He sits there, legs splayed out before him, head bowed as if in prayer and he bleeds, oh boy does he bleed! His fancy blue shirt is now brownish, soaked in blood. A woman screams, a chocked but still horrifying scream. I didn’t wake up hoping I would kill anyone.

I gather bits of his Blackberry and stuff ‘em in my pockets. I grab his Mac and hoist him up to his feet. Someone – an oaf – asks, “Unampeleka wapi?” I want to tell him, “For pizza,” but I would be wasting my sarcasm.

I’m driving him to a hospital in Nairobi West. I give him a small towel to press against the wound and the towel becomes soggy immediately. He opens the car window and spits blood out and it trickles against the side of my door.

Fifteen stitches. A CT scan. Repeat visits. Drugs for a month. That’s what it took to patch him up.

His name was Njogu. He was a lawyer. I almost robbed three kids their father, one who was only 5months old at that time. I almost made some woman a young widow. I almost took away a business partner from two guys.

Njogu didn’t sue. Njogu didn’t show any sort of aggression towards me. Not in the car as I rushed him to the hospital and not when he had a huge bandage over his head that made him look like a mkorino. His partners, fellows who were obviously more learned than I am, never scolded me or made me think they would have me for lunch for knocking down their mate.

Common decency is a greatly humbling thing. Those folk were polished. Even when the cops at Central station wanted to sweat me, wanted to bleed me for every penny I had, Njogu discreetly mentioned his profession and they backed off. Then he wrote a statement absolving me from the accident. Then he signed it. And later while we stood outside the cop station, under the noon glare of the sun, I apologized to him for the umpteenth time and he smiled and asked me to forget it. He said it could happen to anyone and that he was on the wrong. He wasn’t. I don’t think he was. We exchanged numbers.

Class is not what you wear, or where you drink, where you live. Class is what Njogu embodied. Class and common decency, traits you don’t meet often in this town. If a there is a drop of greatness in every man then there must be a whole jug of greatness in Njogu.

Man Talk

Any writer who doesn’t think Oyunga Pala is a literary icon of our time is either a liar or is not a writer. He informed my writing and I – like the whole world – read him religiously in Man Talk. Then in 2007 I wrote for a magazine which he edited for a whole year plus. It was an honor having him edit my copy. He didn’t have ego issues. He didn’t turn my copy into an egoistic platform where he would want to stroke his greatness. And he was respectful. And generous. We got along like a house on fire. And he still remains my Go-To guy when I’m having writing issues because he has over 11years of experience on me. I can tell you that counts for something.

Then an opportunity came to fill his huge boots when he decided to let go of his column. Of course I questioned myself. Of course I wasn’t sure I wanted to write under his long shadow. But I needed the money, plus I’m a hungry guy. While getting smashed at his house one day before I started writing the column he told me, “There are people who will hate you just because you aren’t me. Then there are people who will love you for being yourself. It doesn’t matter what you can do if you worry about what people will think of you.” I hate people who make sense when guys are drinking.

But taking up this column that he had written for 10years was the most difficult thing for me this year because it meant trying to find my own voice. It meant trying not to be Oyunga. It also meant fielding foolish emails (at the beginning) from his dyed-in-the-wool fans that would email me and say “Oyunga wouldn’t have written that topic like that.” or “You don’t even have a motorbike.” Ok, I’ve made up that one.

But taking up that column meant playing to a bigger stage, a more unforgiving stage and that means it meant manning the hell up. It meant growing up. From this experience I learnt one thing: If it seems difficult, do it anyway. You’ll be fine.

Being hospitalized

While a guest of the hospital a few weeks ago I slept with a drip stuck in my hand every night. Sleeping with a drip stuck in your hand is not easy. At 1am the nurse would wake me up to give me more medication. Going back to sleep would take another hour, and in that hour when the hospital ward was quiet save for an occasional cough, a subdued moan and the occasional car passing out at the deserted road, I thought about my life. I also thought about the pointless hedonism that had brought me there, the senseless pursuit of happiness. And I thought about my mortality. But most importantly I had time to listen to my body. And when I walked out of that ward three days later I had learnt one thing; that we abuse our bodies, that we don’t appreciate our bodies, that we take good health for granted and that tequila is not my friend.

One day our bodies will stop working because we fed it junk and booze and we didn’t give it enough rest. That day will come, you can be sure of that.

Juliana Kanyamozi.

There is a vital lesson here for every man; never form an opinion about a woman until she stands up. That’s all I will say about this.

Starting a blog.

I could say how I wake up early on Monday mornings to bang up a 2,000 worder for this blog. Or how Sundays nights I hunch over my laptop pecking a story. I could wax how this blog has grown in many incredible and unimaginable ways. I could even say that this blog stays up because it’s the hinge onto which my literary creativity swings on.

I could say all that gibberish but perhaps the real truth is that this blog is what it is because of you. It’s because of you that I write here because there is great – and horrifying – lonesomeness in writing for nobody. This blog comes up every Monday because I know someone will read it and feel something, anything. And if you want to know that matters to me more than it does you. And so you being here most Mondays to read this blog when you could be doing a thousand other important things is a great privilege. Thank you.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays.

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80 Comments
  1. Bikozulu I have to admit that this blog has made my Mondays bearable since I started following it religiously. It has become an a must read for me every week. Good job old boy. Have a mer-krismas!!

  2. Oh you have made my Mondays very colourful too bad we’ve to wait until next year but that’s alright. Juliana Kanyomozi…..hehehe you’re baaad.
    Have a Merry Christmas and Blessings for 2011.

  3. You ran over someone?! And I didn’t even know! Sigh.. Just goes to show what bosom buddies we are. Thank God for the blog! Or we’d never catch up lol.

  4. merry xmas biko!you’re clearly showing me some of the benefits of self emplyment(self prescribed breaks);-)) though i love pay day!!!as for the rest of us,we shall work through it all…..cant wait for 3rd january!!may your 2011 be even better.

  5. maaan i enjoyed ths but pole sana for the accident….shit happens ….hahah tru dat never judge asitted woman ….that woman is awesome…damn! the curves…nuff said.

  6. Biko, thank you for making my every Monday since I was introduced to this blog.
    May God bless you and your family.
    Merry Christmas and a Happy 2011.

  7. “You don’t even have a motorbike.” That was nice. Merry Christmas Biko, & no lemons, salt & Tequila. Its been pleasurable reading your blog, and Saturday columns. Keep the flow.

  8. Thanx for your blog and yes i am one of “them” who judged you when you took over form Oyunga Pala but you have proved me wrong. Happy holidays

  9. I am a late discoverer of your blog, but I dare say you make a lot of sense my man.

    I read all your blogs from February in a week since learning of it.

    Keep up the good work…you are a literary genius Bikozulu.

    I like the pice about Njogu. what a guy…!

  10. Ever since i came across your blog i have followed it religously and their is not one time that i have been disappointed. You come across as someone who truly loves what he does…have a wonderful and merry christmas Biko.

  11. I have been silently reading your blog for the last couple of months … Loved it so much that I have a link to it on my phone’s homepage. Every Monday I click on that little link incessantly hoping that the newest 4($8post is up!

    Thank you for making what would otherwise be yet another boring day staring at spreadsheets…. A little more bearable.

  12. Biko
    Ever since I started to read, i’ve been here most mondays…sometimes tuedays, like today…looking forward to you making my day…and today, you made my christmas a little more merrier.

    Merry christmas to you too.

  13. I’ve been in the shadows for almost an year and this being your last post this year,I have a few words. I remember when you used to do feature articles for the weekend magazine,that’s when i noticed you and loved your style(Couldn’t get adams,was still in school). Taking over Man talk is definately one of the most daring things you did this year(Well,apart from knocking out a lawyer,a kiuk lawyer actually). Those were really huge boots you had to fit, and honestly, I was reluctant on letting you be the macho man,but you are really doing great. Happy holidays biko, I’ll tweet you when am drunk.

  14. How did your visit to church fail to make the cut man? Or your visit to kondele?

    Merry X-mas and a happy new year.

    Tequillas on me.

  15. I know this is fishy but I’m one of your biggest fans right from the days of Adam to true love, to satmag, i even read your pieces in the east african, and that newspaper costs like what, 60bob!!! So nobody is a bigger fan than i am Biko. I’m in love with your work, like totally!!!

    I cld have opted to be private and write you an email but to show the whole world that am not some b***t trying to pull a fast one and that my intentions are pure I am doin it here in the light.
    I’ve always wanted to meet you, im not obsessed, am not a stalker, but i want nothing than to meet you, my friends say i shouldnt because writers aren’t what they are on paper, I don’t think i will be disappointed. i will be greatly greatly honored if you met me because you like totally inspire me.

  16. Thankyou for religiously making me read your blog and always learning something new..

    Happy holidays and looking forward to 2011

  17. great Blog as always and enjoy your christmas.. stay of tequila and be on the look out for lawyers who cross the road ovyo ovyo u may not be lucky the second time round as they say on this part of town wevare seboo .

  18. Merry christmas and a happy 2011. Won’t partake in even one tequila? Anyway, great writing bro. We look forward to 2011 unlike the Famous Six.

  19. Happy holidays Biko and family, and also this goes out to all the contributors on this blog both passive and active.

    You have all made my Mondays bearable and am glad that we all “meet” here every monday thanks to Biko

  20. Wish you A Merry Christmas, May the Joys of the season
    fill your heart with goodwill and cheer. May the chimes of Christmas glory add up more shine and spread Smiles across the miles, To-day & In the New Year.
    Looking forward to having this blog voted as the best in the region come 2011.

  21. What to say Biko.. Thank you for sharing your writing with us. It’s been a fun ride. Can’t wait for 2011. Happy holidays to you and your family

  22. It’s been great reading your articles this year! And here’s to a greater year ahead, where the boundaries of your possibilities will be expanded!

  23. Most relationships dont even last this long Biko, this one has been complete, full of ups and downs, with critics and spoilers, but mostly filled with satisfied readers who have been with you since the beginning. Noticing something is wrong when you miss a Monday and still dont get enough of you when you write once a week!!!

    Addictively inspiring is what I would call this blog.
    Thanks a lot.

    Cant wait for 2011 for more of you.

    Merry Christmas!!!

  24. Big up yourself Biko. I came across your blog yesterday and wow! what.. i’ve been missing out on good stuff. Honestly, i thought you wouldn’t deliver what Oyunga did on Man Talk but you proved me wrong. I feel inspired after reading the self employed part and i can now say confidently that i’m taking the initiative come 2011. Thank you so so much Zulu for that.
    I should be done reading this blog by Jan. I totally like.
    Merry xmas and ahappy 2011.

  25. Thanks for giving me an interesting read. Since its the end of the yr I will admit that I have re-read some of ur stories many times, not for lack of stuff to read but coz I seem not to get enough of ur work. Merry Christmas

  26. Great Blog Biko, am glad u didn’t try to be someone else because we love your stories even better. for the next few monday’s until ur back i guess i hv to re-read some stories. Merry X-mas n new year

  27. LOL @ “I hate people who make sense when guys are drinking.”

    I like your blog, its going on my reading list. Found it via http://kbaab.wordpress.com/2010/12/18/the-blogs-i-read-why-i-read-them/

  28. I am glad you joined twitter and not that other thing twirra. Those who dont get it, poleni sana.

    When Oyunga quit from Man Talk I was alarmed but when I saw your name on it I knew ‘we’ were going to be alright.

    Happy Holidays to you too.

  29. Your really a prolific writer. I identify with your column more. Pole for the sick days and yes, Njogu is quite the man. Most of all have a terrific new year!

  30. its not a monday …but am happy…your posts always make me smile and even wen am being disjed for crap by clients in the office i can afford to smile!! thanks dude

  31. Naturally, I relate closely to the part of the freelancer. I remember when I was stuck in dead end jobs in K’la in 2006 and you literally begging me to start writing.

    And then I ended up in Kigali, and for a year,
    I slept in living rooms and shitholes-nevertheless; having had the experience of the infamous bunker in kansanga-I was good.

    So yeah, Kigali screwed me, I even lost a Clacks shoe one day, burnt on the exhaust pipe of a motorbike. Shit.
    I was fucked from all corners. But I put up the biggest fight back and ended up at the UN, at the UN.

    No, not me. I’m not searching for a medal here, just relating.

    the newspaper man is as bleu collar as the people that carry luggage and shit in the market. the kind that will be hired to cut somebody’s hand for a fee of Ksh 400. just to get watch that the hand carries.

    I reserve an opinion for all those hustling poor reporters whose morality is constantly conflicted…….

    meanwhile, happy new year and you’re writing MANTALK now? I mean wow? the WOW factor withstanding, I know that is a dream come true for you, and like any hanger-on, I’m proud to know you and may be extending the theory of IMPORTANT BY ASSOCIATION, I will brag in the pub. “Don’t joke with me guys, I know a guy who climbed like three different time zones and sea levels!!!!!

    you’re going to find me at the corner street with newspaper encyclopedias preaching for/at stagnant traffic to save the newspaper. with placards like them born again christian preachers and their suspenders. screaming bible verses in a city near you.

    in a related note, one can understand why those power tripping Romans hanged their philosophers. someone talkshopping at you crap when you’re thinking about rent, porridge, ugali and airtime leaves you in a fuckall situation.
    And you need a spiced rum, but in amounts not to drive you far as the hospital………….

    here’s to good cheer in this one…….

  32. happy new year 2u 2 Biko.ur blogs are quite inspirational not forgetting funny.im hoppin 2c more of ur work xun.ow n by the way would u mind writting something about the youths as well,we would really appreciate it.keep up the god work

  33. happy new year 2u 2 Biko.ur blogs are quite inspirational not forgetting funny.im hoppin 2c more of ur work xun.ow n by the way would u mind writting something about the teens as well,we would really appreciate it.keep up the good work

  34. great read, i agree with a couple of things: 1. this blog is what it is because of me 🙂 2. taking over oyunga’s spot could not have been easy. didn’t wish you happy holidays but i hope you had them…here’s to a fantabulously delicious 2011

  35. Great stuff! “I am me, and I can never like to be you”! “You are you, its good you don wanna be Oyunga, otherwise who would Oyunga be? And who would be you?” Congrats man!

  36. First-time reader here. I came across your blog as i was wandering aimlessly through the Kenyan blog scene and ended up staying much longer than intended. Great writing. I’ll be honest, I haven’t read man-talk since Oyunga left believing noone could be the same. And i was right, noone *could* be the same. Only now I’m starting to think this is not necessarily a bad thing.
    All the best in 2011!

  37. “There is a vital lesson here for every man; never form an opinion about a woman until she stands up. That’s all I will say about this.” Man aren’t you just the funniest…you seem to have a thing for big bums from what I get from your two liner, join the club…….man good one.

  38. I am one of those who had major withdrawal symptoms when Oyunga Pala stopped writing but let me now say YOU HAVE BEEN A WORTHY SUCCESSOR! CONGRATS !

  39. Biko, did you have Malaria the time you were in hospital for three days?
    that malaria they say ‘uko na Malaria mingi sana kwa damu, hii ungekaa ingekumaliza’

  40. Its Dec. 20, 2021 at 11:27PM reading this for the first time as well. I rarely comment. But for a moment I felt like reading Biko’s diary. Did he know that he would be one of the most influencial writers across the continent. Or that, thanks to his blog, two soulmates would find each other.
    I’m from reading ‘Last to comment’ where Tushy has been summoned to the office. Aki that girl is cheeky. There is something about short, cheeky girls that I find fascinating. But that’s a story for another day. This piece is like ‘Last to comment’ for 2010. How nostalgic!