That class? No.

        PHOTO | Muthama Munyoki 

Look at that girl properly, again, c’mon,  one last look. Isn’t she beautiful, guys? Ladies, isn’t the girl up there gorgeous? Well, I’ll tell you something about her before we part, remind me in case I forget. For now, please note this down because it might save you big time, that girl you see up there is in the same class of people I will be calling hunnies henceforth. To be precise, it’s like this: anytime you encounter the word ‘hunny’ in this blog, visualize a gorgeous chic like that girl up there. Hapo si tuko sawa? 

You realise that lately I frequent this place, sindio? Three posts within a week or so is no joke man! Anyway, thing is, over the past one week I’ve been down in the dumps, not financially, not physically, maybe emotionally, maybe. That’s why you see me here frequently, cause I only write under influence of something (not beer or weed, please). Me I write when I’m bored. I write when some hunny takes her good time to send me a text like this “you are behaving like a cartoon 😘😍😍.” Cause in the first place I loathe cartoons and, secondly, cartoons have always scared the shit out of me right from my childhood, thirdly, those fake beings behave so weird and funny and spit a million words in a minute on TV, so when someone tells me ati I’m behaving like a cartoon, regardless of what emoticons accompany that sentence, I can clearly see what she means. I write when I get at the local joint and the waitress looks me right in the eye and tells me “pilau imeisha, si uchukue kebab leo?” As if she had a secret meeting with my mom where mum instructed her to dictate diet for me and to tell me what to eat and what not to. I also write when I get into a matatu then some fellow big ass guy staggers to the seat next me when I can clearly count more than a thousand empty seats just enjoying the loud music  in the mat. Ok  like I said, I’ve been sulk over the past one week. I had sworn not to tell anybody about it, but because it’s you guys, I can’t wait to let you know. Kwani what are friends for? 

So juzi I woke up to some astonishing text that has since stuck at the front part of my head. (Is this the part they call medulla oblangata?) Siku hizi when I retire to bed, the only thing that differentiates me from the many rats and mosquitoes in my room is the pair of loose boxers that cover my loins all through the night. At night, this place is usually so hot you don’t want any piece of cloth touching your skin. Even those boxers I just force them on because I don’t want to wake up one morning to a missing crucial part of me, my third leg, can’t risk losing it to the rats – rats are crazy creatures and can do anything in the dark. So how will I survive in this Nairobi afterwards without a leg? As in do you know any man around this place without a leg, crucial body part, eh?  By the way that’s why when you knock at my door beyond 11 p.m, be sure to stand there for the next 30 minutes as this brother goes through the pile of clothes on the floor in a bid to find something to put on top of his boxers. Anyway, back to our story. 

So I’ve just woken up. I’m sitting on the bed with my legs (now the real legs) stepping on the floor. I’m holding both cheeks with my arms, my elbows are leaning against the thighs and my upper body is slightly tilted forward. You get? I’m figuring out whether I should just grab a towel and dash to the shower, or should I brush my teeth kwanza. Still in that dilemma, another thought strikes me. The thought tells me to check my phone and see what the world is talking about , that’s things like what’s trending or any news. So I subscribe to the third thought, it’s a brilliant thought you know, things to do with getting updated. I turn on data connection and whatsapp messages stream in, hundreds of them. I log onto WhatsApp. 2, 032 unread messages from 12 chats, staring at me like I’m one of their long lost brothers who finally traced the way back home. Si you people know how these  many messages look at you when you wake up in the morning and the way they subject you to a dilemma, to the extent you have to consider the more crucial chats first? That’s the exact thing happening here, before me are 7 group chats, 3 guys, and texts from 2 hunnies. So I read through the 2 hunnies and the 3 guys chats without necessarily opening them. Boy! Wasn’t that the silliest decision? 

“Happy Women’s Day,” reads one of the guys’ texts. Sounds like a joke, right? You people think I just make up shit here. Don’t you? I’m not kidding,  “Happy Women’s Day.” was that guy’s exact text word by word, I can even send you a screenshot of that convo. In fact he was so careful he followed all grammar rules writing it – he started his sentence in caps, wrote the first letters of the holiday’s nouns in caps, then wound up his sentence in a fullstop. Carefully written, magnificently woven, short, precise and clear to the point, “Happy Women’s Day.” When I first read that text, I smiled. Then I clicked on it and reread it, then I synthesized it and got the point that guy was trying to drive into my senses. At first, I felt like punching his nose, but then I thought he could be right. So before anything else, I inspected my boxers with my left arm just to be sure my balls hadn’t been tampered with, or even replaced by any other females body part overnight. And for a fact, everything was in order down there, my two balls and that other leg (we’ll find it a good name next time, any suggestions?) were well parked in there, or intact if you may like. 

That done, my mind came back to this guy – the sender. I imagined he was just lying in his bed, bored like me here, then he realized he has over 2GB mwitu bundles that he must finish within the next 15 days. So yeah, so he logs onto Whatsapp and the first guy to pop up on his list is me because he saved my contact as Achman. So he clicks on my bio, reads my status which hasn’t changed over the past two years, then he turns to my profile picture. And I guess that’s the root of all this drama. Then he makes up his mind to wish me a Happy Women’s Day like he has ever screwed me or something. 

Manze I can’t just take that in, I’m totally unable to comprehend why and how he just decided to wish a fellow man, a man with the same size, or slightly larger balls than his, a Happy Women’s Day. It’s totally unrealistic man! Does he even know the trouble he almost landed me in! Do you guys know that I had decided to remain indoors that whole day, cause when another man thinks of you as a woman, then you require cleansing. Special cleansing. I imagined myself in skirts, I imagined myself walking to class in heels. Picture me in skirts and heels, guys,  don’t I just look horrible?  I also imagined a guy spending 90% of his day in my inbox and me trying to play hard though I know I like him, I imagined hugging a guy whose armpits haven’t seen a single drop of water for the better part of this year and feeling like puking right in his face, I imagined men using the size of my booty to rate my beauty, I imagined walking around nine good months with clear evidence that I had sex with some guy, I imagined laying up strategies to make the guy I like know I like him and making him chase after me, I imagined so many things. And I tell you, all these imaginations were just so unbearable. Ladies, how do you manage these things? Aki you rightfully deserve that International Women’s Day. 

Ladies and gentlemen, let me just make this announcement here once and for all, I don’t fit in the class of hunnies or women provided the few strands of beards under my chin, my proud pair of balls, and an extra leg. Plus a few hunnies around can prove to you that for sure I’m not a woman, that’s just in case you people think that having a beard, a pair of balls and that other thing, isn’t enough to call me a man. 

Back to that hunny up there, I’ve no idea who she is. But in case you know her, don’t hesitate to remind her she’s beautiful. Appreciate her, you just never know, you could be the next jackpot winner. Hope you guys get what I mean. Anyhow, I just got that image on the net and thought she was  worth a blog cover image. Actually all of you are worth blog cover images but si you know, fimbo ya mbali haiui nyoka?