Forget Al Shabaab, Moving Houses is the Real Terrorism

I have an upcoming flu, the good thing is it can’t be transmitted through blogs so I will go ahead and write this post. On the flipside, I read some comment that if Ebola was transmissible via music, then Kenyans would be the first to get infected, straight off of Naija music 😀 I’m still holding my ribs, you guys got jokes more than a Chris Rock show. But that is their history, now onto my story. If there is something I have come to dislike, then its the idea of moving houses. I mean I’m all for the ‘change is good’ bullshit but hey, when I end up with more than I bargained for, then y’all can keep the change. No pun.

Recently, I moved to a new house. Let me rephrase that. I recently elevated my status from a self contained house, to a one bedroom! According to the KOT twitter standards, I guess that is one huge achievement for a young man like me. Now I can do all those crazy stuff I used to read with envy on the timeline, like shower sex 😀 Plus hey, I will get more women since I’m ‘young and rich’ (their words, not mine). Ooh this must be the good life that Kanye and T-pain sung about.  I won’t even wait for your approvals or praises, *parts self on the back*, baby I’m living my dream \o/

This new house is far much spacious than my former self contained house. Which reminds me, maybe some if not most of y’all cool kids don’t even know the meaning of a self contained house. I will be generous and school you, it’s Friday so the mood is upbeat too. According to the official Urban (insert ghetto here) Dictionary; Self-contained house – a one roomed house, usually not very spacious, but that is it’s ingenuity. As small as it may be, the house is the greatest multitask-er even seen in the history of inventions. Just like the incredible Tecno Phantom Z, this house has an octa-core processor (should not be confused or related in anyway with Octopizzo)! Equipped with a 3×6 bed and a six-seater sofa set, It can juggle between being a study room, living room, dining room, a loft, a play room. sound room , game room, art room, trophy room, BEDROOM and finally, a kitchen to top it up.

You maybe wondering how all these fit into a single, not so spacious house right? Time is the word my guy, time. The room offers different room services according to the time of the day. It is a living room during the normal hours, always a kitchen at the corner and it can turn into a bedroom real quick, like a Drake song. Now that we are done with the class, let’s continue to the main course. Again, pardon the pun. Why did I move out of a multitasking room that has served me all so well for the past three year though? I wonder too. Well, forget the earlier braggadocio, I’m not rich yet. In fat, I’m so far from that. Apology to the ladies whose dreams and ambitions have been ravaged at this point. But you can hold on a bit, I might just win a Tetemesha compe, you know?

The real reason why I moved houses is that I got ‘the text’. It caught it so unaware, like duuh, I hear even married men get taken aback by the news aye? In my case, I’m highly contemplating suing Durex. Man they promised to cover my tool so that I don’t look a fool, while acting a fool. Anyway, I got the news while I was drinking with my former school mates at Ian Arunga’s place. Here, allow me to offer another free lesson. I have a cure for guys who blackout while people are drinking. All those suggestions of pacing drinks and the sort won’t work as efficient as this. If you have a friend who always blacks out whenever you go binging, worry no more. Next time when you go out, just call one of his ex girlfriends and request for her help. And when the idiot is just about to black out, tell the lady to send him this simple message ; “I hope you will make a great dad, in five months time that is”. If he doesn’t become Mututho-approved sober, come for a refund.


“How you dance when she tells you the text was just a scare”

In my case, I received the text, read it and passed it around to all my peers. They congratulated me for ‘being a man’ and we laughed and drunk and I blacked out! I must be a special kind. When I woke up, I had to act swiftly because believe me, I hate surprises. top on the list was to move to a more accommodating house. And so it came to pass that last weekend, I found just the right one, after paying 3k for ‘agent service’ which basically means the middleman between the tenant and the landlord. The house looked so great and I totally loved the change. That was until I got the first shock, no water! Like really? I’m expecting the arrival of someone whose first need is to have a regular supply of water for Mohammed’s sake! Then you tell me the water is pumped once a week or on a good day, maybe twice? But that is not the agony, not just yet,. The real frustration happened last night.

Regularly, I work late. I mean like 10 to 11 pm kind of late. One, it’s my personal policy never to carry work home, and two, because all my weekends are fully booked with my drinking career. That calendar cannot, under any circumstances be altered. I hope my boss is not by any chance going to read this. The first thing I told the agent of this new house was this piece of information, I value my convenience like that! Unfortunately last night, I was possible the last thing on his mind. I left the office at 11 pm, and since we were getting dropped by one driver, he had to figure out the people to drop first and I happened to be the last on that list. Meaning I got home at 00:23, that is twenty three minutes past midnight right? Everyone, even the neighbour’s annoying cat was dead asleep.

Can you imagine the shock on my face when I touched a BIG padlock at the gate? I called the agent and luckily, he picked. Only to inform me that he is not around so I should just knock and I will be opened for. I knocked gently, with fear and uncertainty of what my new neighbours would perceive of me. It’s not even a week so I didn’t want to create the wrong impression from the word go. When you move into a new place, it is like joining high school, you must humble yourself so that the veterans don’t give you hard time. For 30 minutes, I knocked 6 times, at the interval of five minutes that is. For a whole thirty minutes, I was just there, all alone in the middle of the night, at a place I haven’t even been chanced to interact with people so I’m practically a total stranger. I think quick, quicker than a teenager looking for an excuse to attend a party at the neighbour’s.

So I call up my cousin who lives like a kilometer nearby and inquire if he is home. It was better to walk a kilometer and get some sleep, than keep knocking on heaven door. I sighed with relief when he picked up, after unsuccessfully trying eight times. He told me to go over, by now, it is 1: 09 am. Bare in mind that I wake up daily at 5 am. I dash to his place, so tensed. Lest you forget, this is Eastlands so I don’t have to remind you of the criminal history of the surrounding. Jesus and Hail Mary both know so well that I’m not ready to die, not before I see my little one. By the grace of God and all occupants of Heaven, I get there without any drama. When I call him again, he tells me to walk past the front gate and he will throw me the key to the second gate. Guess what? Yeah right, the front gate is LOCKED!! On telling him this, he informs me that he only has the key to the second gate that leads to his apartment. I die and resurrect just in time to end the call because I’m so in need of the remaining 3 bob airtime in my phone.

I peregrinate back to my place. This is the real walk of shame, forget what the clandestine tells you. I call the caretaker again, requesting for a contact of any neighbour who can open the gate for me. Just like you guessed, he refused, stating that it will be unprofessional of him to don so. Client privacy nini nini. I had had enough of this bullshit. I picked a stone and approached the gate with new found enthusiasm. I knocked that gate thoroughly for one fucking hour. Wow, I was appalled, I have absolutely wonderful neighbours. The phrase I don’t give a fuck finally found a new meaning. Sincerely, they have no boxes of shit left to give. Holly is determined though, come on, we all know that. How else can you explain me impregnating a girl who have been taking me in circles for 8 years? Knocking this gate is not even close to that trust me. I persisted and an hour and 29 minutes later, I heard someone open their door. I rested. Five minutes later, I hear her hinges cringing, the fool is going back in. I backed that gate so hard she came somersaulting to open it.

Not before a litany of questions and reading me the plot’s ‘terms and conditions’ complete with code of conduct. I said yest to everything she yelled, even the ones she intended to utter. After working for 18 hours straight, the last thing you need is some crazy lady lecturing you at 3:17 am. When I opened my door, took a shower and got on that warm bed, I understood how it feels to be locked out of one’s own house. I woke up at 7 to go to work and as I got out of the house, I found all the neighbours standing at their respective doors. The look they gave me is one I’m still searching for the right adjective to define it. I mumbled something like ‘morning guys’ and quickly dashed out of the gate. Today 6 pm on the dot will get me inside my house.


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