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I married a bitch

Victor Mochere

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I married a bitch

Today, I’m wearing a Sir Charles Njonjo British-made pinstriped bespoke suit, just for the sole reason of knowing that am wearing it, a rose in my lapel and a watch on the chain, am literally dressing to the threes. I’m as hot as hell, so to those fucked up uncles of mine, I will soon start using your photos for Twitter memes. I can’t wait for season two of ’13 Reasons Why’, I really enjoyed season one, not that I got to watch it, probably I learnt about the whole series from trailers, spoilers, books and hearsays.

 

My wife couldn’t let me, she controls my TV remote now. Her love for soap operas have taken her hostage, she can’t do anything as long as Tenelovela is being aired, you can’t even move in the house, you will disrupt her attention… she thus prefers to watch alone. Not that I hate it, I just married the devil and his personal assistant. But they always told me that marriage is hard, it’s a test of life, a chemistry exam, how to mix personality traits, behaviours, emotions and attitudes to get a best match. I ignored that and assured myself that marriage is what you make it to be, how tolerable, loving, caring and resourceful you are, will determine the span of your vows. Growing up, I wanted to be a young dad, so that I don’t have to educate my kids till I retire. But now I don’t even want kids… I do, but not with this bitch as their mother. I’m a liar, a cheater and often attached to sex, but lately have been losing my key strengths.

 

We are driving to town (Nairobi CBD), in my 1998 2000cc Toyota Corolla, a fifth hand vehicle that she made me buy the year preceding last year, a pre-condition for our long, loving and understanding marriage. She claimed that she was fed up with ‘those filthy public transport vehicles’. She has reduced me to her chauffeur, running her errands and driving her around. After all she is my queen, isn’t she? A scrap metal on wheels, a vehicle that I have serviced several times and until it’s no longer serviceable. Three months ago my insurer refused to insure it, they called it an assured risk. By their words, “… insurance is not like gambling, we pool resources by insuring the most unlikely events, thus we cannot insure that thing, I’m not sure if I should called it a motor vehicle, something carrying a 99% chance of causing an accident. I tried to beg, “… only God is the driver, I’m just a body behind the wheel.” They rebuked me, “But we are not God, are we?” Since then no insurance company has considered my request. Not that she even fuels it, my pocket has to bear the burden of my stupidity.

 

Her most favourite song is playing on Kiss FM, ‘I’m a bitch by Meredith Brooks’ She enjoys the song very much. I’m not even sure she grasps a word from the song given that she doesn’t even understand English. A mixture of slang and broken Swahili makes her mouth keep vibrating. She tries to sing along but the lyrics keep missing her. Anything rhythmic to her is worthy closing eyes and pretending to be in paradise. The message from that song is so compelling, I find myself smiling. The song best describes her, I guess, only ironically. When she notices that I like the song, she tunes on to the next station hoping for a rumba, lingala or zilizopendwa kind of songs.

 

Today is our anniversary. This is my second year in this toxic marriage, I stopped bragging about it when I realized it couldn’t make me any more of a man. Stuck in a traffic jam, this Nairobi will soon kill me. We are heading to shags to give a full report on why we haven’t had kids yet. That cockroach I call a wife is sitting next to me, I mean that metaphorically, I really hate her, hate is such a strong word, maybe dislike. Ever since she was mounted on me, she has been a devil to resonate with. Just an extra mouth to feed and fill my toilet, her specialties I imagine. Beyond that she does nothing, apart from gossiping, watching, sleeping, complaining and occupying space in my house. They say you can take a person out of the village, but you cannot take the village out of her. Imagine last night she made me sleep in the guest house, because she claims that I snore. Every morning she wakes up, caresses my face and then slaps me, African love I guess. Or maybe to remind who is in charge.

 

“Aye Grace, we will be late.” That is her name, which means the one who was born out of God’s favour. “Wait I have to do my hair, you know have to look pretty…” She said that like half an hour ago and she did shave her hair last week, so I don’t know which hair she is talking about. When she is done she approaches me with a rephrased quote from the Snow White and the Huntsman movie that she was watching last week, “Victor, Victor, on the door, who’s the fairest of them all?”, “You are, my Grace”, “That is my husband”, “Now shall we go”. I can’t keep up with her, she is carrying anything and everything she has, from clothes, shoes, even utensils. Until am forced to ask her, “Kwani unahama na nyumba yangu?”, “Wee wacha watajuaje tumetoka Nairobi”. With all that make up, I can hardly recognize her. I thought I married Grace, now am seeing a resemblance of Rihanna, the weird one. She has sprayed herself with every perfume she could find including mine. Now she is smelling like a mixture of whisky, smoke and cabbage.

 

We arrived in town just to realize that we aren’t the only ones travelling, where did all these people come from, “Nilikuambia tuamke saa kumi”, that bitch comes up again. “Si wewe ndo ung’orota mpaka saa tatu”, I shut her down. “Aiii mimi nichoka”, “Rudi basi kwa nyumba”. I leave my one shilling car with my cousin, hoping he will revamp it for me. We finally get to catch one of these things that resemble vehicles, enroute to shags. My wife, my dear Grace can’t keep it to her mouth. She keeps singing, begging for food from fellow passengers. I’m ashamed, maybe I should leave her at shags. Take the problem to its source. I contemplate. Imagine that awkward moment she starts to kiss other people’s kids. And yet she is the one who refused to have kids. That it disgusted her to see pregnant women, craving for stones and soil, changing diapers. She literally termed kids as liabilities. When I suggested that we hire a maid she feared that it will end her marriage, competition in the house would sent her straight to the morgue.

 

Even my parents who I have always thought that they loved me, have been helpless these past years. Maybe the definition of love changed while I was being forced to cook smashed cherry potatoes with fried sauced chicken, that she saw in a Mexican soap opera. We never even had a church wedding, only that traditional fantasy of exchanging mugs of busaa, nakedly dancing in a maize plantation, ringing bells to signal chasing of bad omens from our union and consummating the marriage in front of the village witchdoctor. In the morning those old ugly looking men spat on our chests and told us to have at least 12 children. And off we went.

 

It all started with a call to go to shags, 2 years ago, from my uncle who was pretending to be sick, little did I know that it was an ambush. They wanted to sermon me but didn’t know how to get hold of me. I rarely visit, they visit me. That is my rule. The whole agenda was that I get married. “Where is your wife? Our in-law?” They poked at me. “I’m still dating”, I answered. “Ati dating, what is that? We have found a very young sweet and beautiful wife for you. And we think you should marry her.” “Never! Never!” I tried my trick of going mad. Shouting, throwing kicks here and there, and strongly shaking my head. But it couldn’t do me any good. They know me inside out and all my tactics.

 

“If you can’t marry her, then we will have to disown and expel you from our hamlet. You won’t be associated with us and you will not inherit anything from your father”, they concluded. “But”, “No but, we have waited for long, we thought you will graduate from university with one of those brown ripe bleached ladies, which we would have denied obviously but again you didn’t. So standing before this honourable gathering of elders to tell us, never, is outrageous, disrespective and benet an educated dwarf like you.” They gave me no choice, the boy child under siege, not even Le Presedente to defend me. So I took her. I hoped I would marry her become a pain in the ass and force her to go back to her parents. But she has stuck with me throughout with ridiculous rules. Nimekaliwa chapati, I can’t go out with friends to have fun, I can’t have any contacts of ladies or call any lady friend apart from relatives only. I can’t sleep out. You know I suspect someone is trailing me. As am writing this article am straining not to get caught. I can’t hire a maid regardless of her being a terrible cook, the last one I brought, she locked her up in the garage. Can’t even wash clothes clean. I’m doomed. My Grace, my disgrace. Believe me, I have googled and googled on how to get rid of a bad wife. I’m even thinking of writing a book about her. Maybe I should title it, ‘My disgrace in Grace’.

 

No sooner we arrive at shags than World War 3 starts. It’s going to be a long night. The only advantage I have on my side is that, today is Friday the 13th.

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I’m a literati savant, altruistic, queer laughist, critique from the non-core academia and above all it’s my conviction that in all my papers the rule of three applies.

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17 Comments

17 Comments

  1. Charles Maina

    13th April 2018 at 4:17 pm

    Nice read.

  2. Keep v

    13th April 2018 at 4:26 pm

    Classical writing. Kudos

  3. Samuel Dalafiari

    13th April 2018 at 5:44 pm

    😹😹😹😹😹 I hope you get rid of her soon. I’m more scared now, having the fear that she might trail me too. 👍👍

  4. Goodness Lerato

    13th April 2018 at 5:45 pm

    Sorrrry

  5. Mazibuko Letsitsa

    13th April 2018 at 5:45 pm

    Really?

  6. Emmanuel

    13th April 2018 at 5:47 pm

    I have enjoyed reading this shit mayne fuck😇

  7. Wasike Wanyonyi

    13th April 2018 at 5:48 pm

    Great read, she is the laugh of your life

  8. Ari Delvan

    13th April 2018 at 7:23 pm

    I died when you said hate was too much of a big word…. Marriage is only scary if you let it 😂😂

  9. Char_Bunny

    13th April 2018 at 8:16 pm

    I think you are past the romantic phase where everything about that other person drives you nuts.

  10. Collins Mukhwana

    14th April 2018 at 2:03 pm

    I recommend uende uwe marriage counsellor

  11. Mark

    14th April 2018 at 2:04 pm

    So proud of your work. Man this is your calling😊

  12. Jasper

    17th April 2018 at 9:35 am

    Great work Victor

  13. Anonymous

    24th April 2018 at 3:14 pm

    This blog is excellent mahn!

  14. Angelyn Decann

    22nd June 2018 at 9:58 pm

    This actually answered my problem, thank you!

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Opinion

Everyone is (should be) an entrepreneur

Victor Mochere

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Everyone is (should be) an entrepreneur

Entrepreneurs have often been described as people who add value to products or make products with value, either directly or indirectly, and sell them at a profit to customers. While those people who do not impact any value to products they sell are basically ordinary people in business. Therefore all entrepreneurs are business people and not all business people are entrepreneurs.

 

Each individual alive today has a product that they sell to their customers, and that is the human labour either physical or mental.

 

If you are an employee, then your customer is your employer, to whom you are selling your product labour. If you are a student, then your customer is your examiner, to whom you are selling your mental labour. If you are a business owner, then your customer gets the products or services upon which you have spent your labour on. If you are not employed, you still have your product which is your labour, you can choose to either sell it to your potential employer by being employed or use it to create other products or services to sell to your potential customers.

 

The key pillars of entrepreneurship majorly rotate on creativity and innovation, therefore for your labour to be very competitive and to be bought, you must invest in those pillars so as to make it better than that of others.

 

It is a sad tragedy if you don’t think that your labour is a product, or at extreme don’t consider yourself an entrepreneur. It is also a sad reality that most employees lack the entrepreneurship mind-set and prefer rather to remain with employee mentality. Most employed people often think that value creation is the work of their employers, through assigning them specific tasks. That it’s their duty to perform those tasks, and that’s it. They think they don’t need the passion, drive and stigma to create value.

 

Most employees see their current work as a necessity for survival rather than an opportunity to advance themselves through value creation. So they will keep working, day in day out with an anticipation of payment for their labour and if they are not paid, they will resort to industrial action. Others will humble themselves, keep their heads down, perform tasks assigned, follow the routine, and hope that they will get a promotion or salary increment for time served while praying that they don’t get laid off.

 

Think of Steve Jobs, the co-founder of Apple Inc., imagine if he has treated the buyers of Apple products (his customers) as most workers threat their customers (buyers of their labour services). They keep asking and buying Apple II computer, why don’t we focus on producing them. Then he would never have developed the iMac, iPod, iPhone, iPad, etc. The world would never have had better and advanced products, and he would have remained much poorer as a result.

 

There are also the bureaucrats, the non-entrepreneurial bosses. A bureaucratic boss expects the employee to stick to the routine, any deviations would be treated as insubordination, and as needlessly creating extra hassles. Such a boss is receptive to value-adding innovations, and would readily give the employee a bigger role to facilitate and tap into his/her quest to create a lot of innovations. A bureaucratic boss would also know that other entrepreneurial bosses would try to poach the innovative worker’s services given a chance, he/she in a bid to prevent that, would increase the employee’s pay.

 

In pursuit of value creation, an entrepreneurial worker will have to be intelligent and assertive, in doing so will enhance his/her demand in the industry, improve his/her career credentials and ultimately as a result be served with better opportunities in terms of compensation, working conditions, more fulfilling work and life.

 

Shun away from the mentality that you are not an entrepreneur. Every person should have the mindset of self-employment. For those employed your boss is your current customer. For those still in school, your customer is your examiner. For those employed on wage contract, your customer is the market. In any case, whichever path you choose to pursue, you will have to invest heavily on creativity and innovation which in other terms can be perceived as entrepreneurship, the consequences of satisfying your customer being deriving some gain.

 

Only you, are ultimately responsible for your own worth creation, the pay you want and the career path you desire. You are the person and in essence the entrepreneur responsible your own labour producing company called “Me, Ltd.” It’s worth noting that everybody is a potential entrepreneur and entrepreneurship is for everyone.

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Opinion

I need a Kim to my Kanye

Victor Mochere

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I need a Kim to my Kanye

Awhile back, my folks were all over my ass. They wanted an insight, an update, a grapevine if you may, anything that resonates with my love life. They literally made my phone a ‘ticking time bomb’. But am single, and for quite a long time I have been. At that moment it struck me, in a couple of years I will be clocking 30, so I need a Kim to my Kanye.

 

If you are interested in a junk like me. Then you must be tall, short ladies will have to forgive me on this. Be modest, mature and civilized. I don’t like socialites, or at the very least slay queens. I don’t want to be with someone who takes selfies with their tongue out. It’s important that you look presentable. Know how to package yourself. A God fearing lady will be an added advantage. Maybe with a price tag, ‘made in Heaven’. I’m not a church person so you might be forced to drag me to sermons, once in a while. I’m not an anger management consultant, so don’t bother if you are irascible. In a nutshell I need someone who is emotionally strong, and not a wet or green crap.

 

You must be young enough to be a lady and old enough to be a woman. In fact, if you think 23 is old, then you are the right fit. A very loving, caring, patient, tolerable person. Also you must be a very responsible person, hardworking and relatively smart. Which means you should be a logical thinker, intellectually secure and not myopic. A very support woman who is ready to be a wife and a mother. You must not be a drunkard, smoker or do drugs. For crying out loud am trying to start a family. Not unless we’re both drinking, lightly, and we will from time to time.

 

I’m in my mid 20’s. Four months ago I marked my quadranscentennial birthday, so ideally you can guess my age. I’m averagely tall, very dark and arrogantly looking. I do get comments like, ‘ugly’ ‘weird’ ‘trash’ whenever I post a picture of myself on social media. Though I do believe that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Thanks to my mother, am an affable person. Shy but romantic and often attached to sex but I have never dated before.

 

I love movies, music not so much. Sometimes, more so on weekends I might extend into the night watching my favourite TV series, I hope you won’t be bothered by that. I don’t watch soap operas. I’m a fun maker, a joker, thrice I have choked on my jokes. But I will caution you if am making a joke about you. I’m a sound sleeper, so I will appreciate if I get someone who doesn’t snore at night or keep rotating in bed. I do read, but mostly about technology and politics. Once in a while you will find me blogging, that is something that fascinates me.

 

I love eating, and do cooking, though the only person who approves my cooking is my uncle. I might be forced to share your kitchen or displace you entirely, when that happens please bear with me, cooking is one of the very few hobbies that grace my résumé. I don’t like sports, not at all. So if I happen to give you an excuse of going out to watch football, then I must and will certainly be lying. I’m an open person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep secrets. My life is a secret itself. I love kids, I hope and pray that we will have ours too, at most four. I have this notorious nephew who usually comes to my house to play video games or watch cartoons, I do give him his space and I will appreciate if you do the same. I have a very strong bond with him that I won’t like to see threatened or jeopardized.

 

I love coffee, very much. In the morning I usually take a cup of coffee with cream while in the evening with lemon and sometimes with ginger. I take shower twice a day, a cold shower in the morning and a hot one before bed. I don’t like riches or poverty, I live a modest life that will be part of you too. I must warn you that I have a killer instinct, more so when it comes to achieving what I want.

 

I don’t prefer a public life though the name ‘bigwig’ has been used on me before. I’m an introvert to some extent, so in case you want to bring some friends over, please have at least one who can initiate a conversation. I don’t smoke or do drugs, the far I have gone is some two or three buffs of a joint. But I do drink occasionally, once every month I go out with my friends to have fun and catch up. I will explain what I mean by fun on our first date. But the good thing is that I usually come home. Sleep overs are only when I have traveled.

 

Before you get too excited. Kindly note that am a nobody, in fact my father once called me a ‘useless baboon’. I don’t know whether he meant it literally or metaphorically. And I must insist that I don’t own much worth calling wealth. But we can start small. Won’t we?

 

If you’re interested or know anyone interested, rush to my inbox IMMEDIATELY!

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Opinion

In Africa, LGBTI is an abomination

Victor Mochere

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In Africa, LGBTI is an abomination

Africa is a third world continent, solely because it has chosen to alienate itself with taboos that are centuries old. As the rest of the world rides along, Africa is limping far behind. Welcome to Africa where people have failed to move with the rest of the world and rather decided to be comfortable with the status quo. LGBTI (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Intersex), is considered a sin, an abomination to the African moral standards. Engaging in such acts will lead to public ridicule, stigmatization, and jail term or at worse death. The fight for gay rights in most African countries is a suicide mission. Governments have even treated gay groups as radicalized terror groups, advocating for their elimination. With anti-gay religious groups in an effort to gain converts pouring unprecedented resources, making the struggle even more difficult.

 

With the exception of South Africa which has legalized same-sex marriages, other countries have shown a hostile reception to homosexuality activities and apart from Cape Verde which to some extent is considered the most gay friendly country in Africa. Some countries have even outlawed and criminalized LGBTI rights and activities, imposing sanctions, heavy penalties, life imprisonments or death sentences to the culprits. Yet what these so called ‘criminals’ do is to profess love to each other, without harming anyone or affecting the economy. Until March 2018, Kenya was conducting anal examinations, before outlawed by the High Court, on gay people then slapping them with a 14 year jail term. This even though the constitution is silent on homosexuality. The government has invaded the privacy of its citizens and want to control who they love, what they watch and what they say.

 

I remember a while back I made a joke on Twitter.

The responses that followed were harsh and amounted to trolls. With people making assumptions and accusing me of either being gay or being a gay sympathizer. We live in a world where even the mention of the word itself can result to tainting of your name and reputation.

 

When Rafiki, Africa’s first film with an LGBTI theme was first mentioned, people shunned away, castigating it as a poison that will lure their children to immorality. The film was banned in Kenya, the country of its origin, not to be aired or sold in any part of the country. This despite the film taming itself from intimacy scenes and only focusing on professing love. Regardless of its misfortunes, the film became the first Kenyan film to screen at the Cannes Film Festival. But Africa failed to celebrate the artistic impression it portrayed even after getting a standing ovation and positive reviews and reception in other countries. The most ridiculous part being that, a film with no sexual advances can promote gayism. It’s not only shows how primitive Africans are but how a backward thinking syndrome has taken the continent hostage.

 

Coming out in Africa is like digging your own grave. Gay clubs have been raided, homes torched and innocent people stoned to death just because they failed to recognize that, being straight is a default. LGBTI people are forced to linger behind the closed doors and only make love in the cover of darkness. These laws were introduced by the colonial masters, of which UK Prime Minister Theresa May has publicly apologized about. But Africans will later consider LGBTI as a non-issue and work to advance corruption and tribalism as a consolation.

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