I’m I with stupid?

Guys, my tolerance for bullshit this year went from 150% to -4%.

Moving to a new country meant meeting new people from different cultures and I was ready. But I was so used to a certain circle in my country and making new friends has not been easy.

It’s alot of work and especially when you don’t want to be friends with stupid.

It’s like everytime I’m about to get close to someone, they come up with a question like: “Where did you learn English?”

To avoid high blood pressure and killing too many humans I respond: “From tourists who visited our monkey farm!”

Another one asked me: “You speak, read and write very good English, are you from a rich family?”

They are not native English speakers so I responded with the same question. They were so embarrassed and have since been avoiding me.

Guys, I like people I can have a conversation with beyond why their ponytails are thinning. I want to talk current affairs, global warming, Kardashians and the size of Trump’s toe nails. But getting someone who fits this description sometimes is really tough.

Which reminds me, Africa should probably ban UNHCR. Maybe we should just stop war, share more and plan for natural disasters. Let’s do anything to stop being dependant on these condenscending bastards.

Why I’m so bitter?

See, the other day some fool fundraising for UN approached me and asked me to contribute for my brothers suffering in Africa!


Guys, I flipped and had to be calmed by his colleagues.

I demanded to know where this condescending bastard came from and his home country ( not from Africa or Europe) is actually in a crisis. So I asked him how it would feel if I approached him and asked him to talk to his terrorist brothers.

I got a half-hearted apology after I threatened to talk their bosses as I had taken pictures.

I don’t want to be petty and respond to every uneducated fool but if people decide to push my buttons….. Badamu batamwagika!

Rest In Peace Kisang’ule!

Guys, it is with so much sadness that I announce the demise of one of the main characters in my blog, Kisang’ule the dog.

Kisang’ule ‘went to be with the Lord’ and it’s a huge blow for the mongrel community in my neighborhood.

He was a role model, clean, well fed and could even bark in English!

Our beloved family mongrel who has served us faithfully for the last 5 years was poisoned by thugs last week because he was too loud and woke my family up every time thugs tried to break in.

Kisang’ule died so we can continue watching TV, cook with gas and keep our mobile phones.

In all those days Kisangule lived with us, I can’t recall a day he moved to live with the neighbors because of greed.

And I guess it’s because we always fed him left overs to give him some little strength to hunt his own proper dinner, squirrels.


Kisang’ule was a happy dog, he walked my sister and I to the busstop and really hated it if someone stopped to greet us. He would bark.

Kisang’ule could read our moods. And if the family cat was being a nuisance he would softly try to tell her off. They were inseparable. The only time I felt betrayed by Kisang’ule is when he was seeing me off to the bustop and we met my father’s car and he chased it back home.

I later understood that it had to do with the meat. My dad always fed him a chunk of meat every second day of the week.

Now he is gone. I hope those thuvs will go to hell. By the way where do dogs go when they die? Anyway it doesn’t matter, Kisang’ule was a hero who died protecting his humans!

Snow brings out the child in me!

Guys, I know I said some really nasty things about the snow a month ago before I left for Kenya but it seems i might have to swallow my words.

I know I even threatened to relocate to Lybia if the snow did not go away. But something happened. I can’t explain what happened when I came back but suddenly snow was beautiful.

And I have been doing some embarrassing shit out here. For instance choosing to walk on top of snow instead of the cleared pathway. Throwing snowballs at colleagues and other short stories.


Guys, I have been immature and probably get worse as more snow falls. Luckily I work with a team that totally understands that this is the first time I have seen snow. I think I also keep them entertained with my excitement so it’s a win win situation.

My ignorance their entertainment!

Who impregnated the family cat?

Kisang’ule photo bombing yours truly!

The last time I wrote about the family cat, I was complaining about her feeding habits.

The damn thing had developed a weird appetite for avocados. That was just when I had moved back home in preparation to move to Sweden. This was in March.

I left my father, Kisakwa’s house in April for Sweden and went back to visit in November and guess what, the cat was pregnant.

Full blown pregnancy. Type of pregnancy that gets a cat too lazy to even meow. I can swear I saw a rat play with that cat’s tail and it didn’t even bother to go after it.

Sorry, I can’t handle snow!

The cat getting on to the family way got me wondering:

Who impregnated her?

Do cats have sex?

Do they get married before?

Do they have mother in-laws?

Which reminds me, the last time she gave birth, she ate nine of her kittens and kept one. What type of mother does that? How I’m I supposed to explain to the world that our family cat’s favourite delicacy is not a rodent but her own children and avocado?

Anyway, I got to catch up with Kisang’ule our loyal mongrel. My only worry with Kisang’ule is that he has developed a penchant for rich dogs type of games.A typical village dog should only come close to humans in the evening when he knows he is about to be fed leftovers. But this dog! Where are his manners? He is so disrespectful to a point he wanted to be in all my pictures. It’s like he went on a crash course on how to become a professional photo bomber!

But I love him. Infact, my feelings for this dog came to life when he followed me to the bustop the other day as I was headed to my friends house for a sleep over. He got so confident and though that he could sit in the middle of the road and the vehicles would stop for him. You know, like my dad does all the time?

Guys, I dropped my handbag and dived into the road and sent him home after a thorough spanking. He did not play those rich people games with me for two days. I didn’t care. I had saved his life!