His Life…


The life of an ambitious, out of college Kenyan youth is hard, complicated, nerve wrecking, messed up and cruel. Everything is dusty about him; from the shoes to the trousers to the spirit and the soul. He carries a Brown envelope at one hand whose containment is a degree certificate in Decision Engineering, some numerous other certificates , a birth certificate and baptismal certification. In this great country of ours, you have to carry all certificates at your disposal when going for job interviews. You never know which one will be needed in which office. On the other hand is his ego.

He is an engineer after all. Back in Campus he remembers lecturers telling him that there are only four mentionable courses in the world; Engineering, Medicine, Law and others. So he deserves to be employed. It is his birthright. He didn’t work so hard in campus to end up roaming city streets in dusty, worn out loafers that have eventually given in to the torture under the ruthless sun. Kidero has banned people from stepping in his grass so the shoe soles have no place to cool down after the endless friction on the city tarmac.

As days turn to months eventually to years, rovers pass by and he has since softened his stand. He will do anything. He no longer dons expensive loafers but some cheap second hand excuses of leather shoes from Gikomba. When leaving the house every morning, they are shining and bright but by 9 they are dustier than glass panes in Ukambani during SGR construction.

Mama mboga knows him by name and his second name is ‘madeni’. The only payment he never lates on is house rent for his one single room apartment in Kayole.

He remembers the 1.6B lost in NYS and wishes he did hairdressing. On thinking about the 109K used to buy the wheelbarrow, he wishes he was a mason or the wheelbarrow itself. He thinks about Eurobond and hopes that he stumbles upon the loot someday. Sportpesa has made him dream of being a millionaire someday but Kalonzo has higher chances of becoming president than him hitting the jackpot or the gspot.

Its that messed up.

He remembers Sakaja became an mp at 28. He sees his age mates driving Subaru’s all over Mombasa road when the only drive he knows is Drive Inn.

Isn’t he man enough to ride, ball and bed the hottest hunnies in town? Doesn’t he have two testicles like those guys who burn 20K in a single sitting, along Moi Avenue watching a game of rugby? He has numbers he can call with the latest Samsung Galaxy A series. He also can’t fall short of a phrase or two that will land him in the same table with Huddah, Maina Kageni, Vera or even a trending Twitter hunnie in relegation. He also has ideas of exotic destinations he can take bae for valentines.

Of course he is.

Unfortunately someone noted that being broke makes all the difference. The government is stealing from his VAT (Its the only tax he can afford) and eating with the opposition that’s supposed to check on its excesses. The Judiciary has also developed an appetite and the only future he can see is a bleak one.

What makes it all super sad is the fact that he won’t get laid because some philosopher in a Subaru said that broke guys don’t deserve to sweat on top of someone’s daughter when they can use the energy to look for money.


7 responses to “His Life…

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