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Cupid's Craic

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Red roses, dark chocolate, fine 🍷, better still money bouquet. Is it love overrated or just a beautiful thing? Wah!elderly man squeezed next to me, high as a kite, seriously unkempt. Today we 'sue' the guy who introduced 'sambazas', clearly we shall breathe next year😏 Listening to Ghost from patanisho just making a bad situation worse by his sarcastic laugh😂 Decision made, morning cup of tea in the house a no no for me.Funny walking style to the office(if you know you know), very embarrassing!! Two decades ago a dice was cast in my uncle's residence and I landed BM as my valentine date.Strangers though from same home area. We were both just done with high school. Or no, he had cleared a year before i did. So I put some effort in my valentines outfit. Red top,black pants and open high heel. We met outside nandos. Either we had chips from nandos or sonford. I recall chocolate and teddy bear he gifted me. Later and I mean 3 p.m🤭he introduced me to this underground ...
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But Money...Why Are You Like This?

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So I wanted to write a beautiful love letter in the month of February. Why not to someone? Perhaps because with people, I can choose to feel the love or not. But money love? I’m not so sure about this one. It feels one-sided. Then someone would randomly ask, what is love? I would sum it up as adoration and consideration. But you, you stay too short a time. No sooner are you around than you want to leave. Why don’t you stay? You are needed. You are wanted. Then you would ask, you let me go so fast and so easily. Truth is...I struggle to let you go. Every bit of you exiting feels like a piece of me left void. I let you go not out of ease but out of lack of choice. Then you would say, why not multiply me so that I stay? I do not have a clear answer for you now, But please...stay a while. Regards, The one you leave behind😏 Dedication song playing in my head... Money comes to me easily, money comes to me fast Money loves my company when money comes at last While heading home, my stopover...
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For My Future I Toil

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A personal tribute to my uncle, mentor, and family pillar -25 years gone, never forgotten. Let’s go back… mid-90s. Uncle Gakuo. His white pick-up truck. All of us. Our mums. Our huge bags-bigger than some of us. Nduta Gakuo, Cira Gakuo, Shiku Gakuo, Shiku Kariru, Waithera Marua (big), Waithera Marua (small), Wambui Njung’e, Shiku Mworia, Minneh Njoroge… And of course me-the ‘last’ born of the pack. Those registration numbers on the truck-to this day, I hear “709” and I feel nine years old all over again. Boarding school in an Assumption Sisters hostel was no joke. Oh my… Sr. Mbatha. Madaraka Primary School, Thika: top-performing. For My Future I Toil. That was the motto. And indeed, my mother’s brother wanted only the best for us. 25 years on. His candle still burns brightly in my heart. His love for extended family, those lively get-togethers- all gone with him. I often imagine him and Mum, taking tea outside under our avocado tree. Whenever I think of my education, Uncle Gaku...
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