Category Archives: Uncategorized

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    The Phoenix of Lorengelup

    No one is above a deep male voice. You know that voice, deeper than a sapiosexual’s mind. A baritone so smooth and so rich it sounds like Mediterranean bourbon or kahlua. A voice cloaked in persona, charisma and even has a scent. Something strongly masculine like Yves Saint Laurent or Gucci Guilty. It doesn’t even have to ooze machismo, it’s not raw sexy like Usher’s bare chest but it will hold your attention. It will command that you listen. A Mandinka voice that could don Valentino suits and keep a beard. A voice that feels like a he goat – what Okuyos would call a ndurume. Take a moment and muse over that voice.

  • hp

    They Stole My Laptop

    He had a great butt, dark and chiseled as hell. I secretly called him Jason. Jason is such a solid name. Sounds like a guy who brings you to orgasm then whispers “good girl”, like he didn’t do all the work. The kind of guy that has an angled face and speaks just a little french. He calls beef with pasta “beef stroganoff” that day he cooks for you. A man that leans his elbow on his knee and leans in towards your face when he gets seriously passionate, especially about Wilbur Smith’s books, A A Gill or Josiah Wasonga’s pudding. The kind of man that jogs when it’s dark and it drizzles. Jason means ‘healer’, which is pertinent because without him I’m ailing.

  • The Wheels Keep Turning


    Some days are just innately different from the rest. You wake up and you know. Before you pulse open your eyes or draw your sheer, flowered or calico curtains, before you groggily walk to the pristine white shower and smile at your swollen face, before you check for trending topics and try decipher the Gaza madness, you just know. You know that something has changed. In the calm ominous world, the uninterrupted cycles of biology, society and culture, in the kitschy population profile, in that nest, an egg has cracked, a domino has fallen, the season is altered and a chain of reaction of choices has begun.

  • Courting Grandma.



    My maternal grandmother, Wambui is 74. We all call her Cucu. No Otieno, it’s not shosho. Shosho is what Nyeri folk say when they mean social. Cucu Wambui has always been complaint with religious, legal, natural and social will. Thus in compliance with nature, gravity and all that is holy, she has a bent back. It’s her comfortable place. Like a permanent yoga pose or like she used to ‘nyemelea’. She’ll straighten her back so fast when she sees a car pull up at her gate though. You know ladies and pretense.