Are you are registered voter? If not, grab your original national ID card or valid Kenyan passport and head to your nearest county assembly ward and register as a voter today. In case you have plans for today, IEBC iko mtaani hadi 2nd November when the mass voter registration exercise will come to an end.

Registering as voter gives you an opportunity to vote and elect leaders of your choice, allows you to vie for an elective position, gives you the right to nominate candidates for an election and gives you the moral authority to hold leaders accountable.

Getting yourself registered as a voter is a simple exercise that starts with one presenting themselves to the registration officer with his/her identification documents at a designated Registration Centre within the working hours. IEBC registration officers can be identified with their reflector jackets that are well labeled. The registration centres are used as the polling centres during elections. At the registration centres, the applicant fills the Application for Registration Form and the registered voter will be issued a registration acknowledgement slip bearing the voters’ details.

One can be denied registration as a voter if they have not attained the age of 18 years, when you are not in possession of the orignal ID card or a valid Kenyan passport, if a competent court declares you of unsound mind and if you have been found guilty by an election court or reported to be guilty of any election offence during the preceding five years. It is also an offence to register more than once as a voter.

In case you switched hoods or would like to transfer as voter, you can transfer to a registration centre that is convenient for you. A person may transfer as a voter to another registration centre of his or her choice within the registration period.

In the 2017 General elections, according to IEBC, Nairobi county had 2,250, 853 registered voters in 3,378 polling stations. Kiambu County had 1,180,920 registered voters in 963 registration centres. Prisons had 5,528 registered voters while the Diaspora had 4,393 registered voters across 10 polling stations.

Kenya′s Election Act 2011 allows the Electoral Commission “to use such technology as it considers appropriate in the electoral process”. The Commission has so far implemented four key election technologies. The Biometric Voter Registration(BVR) system is used for registering voters. It comprises a laptop, a finger print scanner and a camera. BVR captures a voter′s facial image, finger prints and civil data or Personally Identifiable Information (PII)-Name, gender, identity card/passport number, telephone number etc. The registration takes place at the registration centre where an individual is expected to vote. The BVR method of registration was the only system deployed by IEBC to register voters just before the 2013 general elections.

BVR ensures that:

•  There are multiple methods of identifying voters uniquely (other than names and IDs, there are finger print and facial features)
• That capture of voters′ records is fast, efficient and direct
• Security and privacy of information is enhanced
• Integrity and reliability of information is improved e.g. elimination of duplicates

If you have to hold your leader accountable, you have to start by electing one. Registering as a voter provides an opportunity for one to be a part of the democratic process of appointing their leaders; from the grassroots level to the national level.

Thoughts of piecing together this article have been postponed for far too much. It is as an effect of once feeling that it is time I cut the chase and let go. However, here I am doing it after calling off countless brainstorm sessions and letting my thought wander endlessly into the sea of fantasy and imagination. During one of these sessions, I remembered the words of Nas on Rare off his latest album; King’s Disease II, where he says, “A man who has no imagination has no wings.” Since it is a life of choices and living responsibly with the consequences of your choices, I resided back to my mantra driven from the wise words of Abraham Lincoln; ‘Man must not care where and when he will die, provided he dies at the post of honor and duty.’

Resentment and Expectations

I keep my expectations fairly low when dealing with people. Drawing from previous experiences, it is pretty hard to trust people more so with the affairs of the heart. Experiencing frustrations and disappointments is normal in life but some of the things we normalize today are overwhelming. That is why I rarely trust and this explains why we have many broken relationships that are sometimes never repaired. This causes resentment. People like mad dogs with complex emotions ranging from anger to disappointment, bitterness and hard feelings trod the streets with long faces drawing lines of underlying sense of being mistreated or wronged by other people.

The easiest way for me to explain my underlying insecurities is by writing. However, this year, I dedicated the entirety of it into writing to unlock the creative beast mode in my mental faculties and it was working perfectly well without my realization until I figured out I wasn’t as happy as I intended to be at the beginning of the year. It is now a few months before the year comes to an end and the feeling of discontent is waning out after realizing that I was living the blessing and the happiest moments were yet to come. Least said, they are yet to be scribbled since am not giving up on this anytime soon. Why?

A Train of Thought

Holding a medii one evening across the railway line, a train was grinding against the heavy steel bars with a chain of containers squealing following hurriedly behind. Long after it had gone, I wouldn’t stop thinking of this event that has been happening for a century and still counting. Many hours of a day expose the railway line as a dead spiral of connected metals cutting through bushes but the passing of the train blows the edges of the shrubs and heats the steel with friction. The recurrence of the train brought life to the railway line once or twice a day.  The recurring thoughts on my mind were taking over and the coming of the train saved me from the inability to stop thinking. I started thinking.

The purpose of the railway line was to sit and wait. For years it has done that. However, the trains that have passed through it keep on improving in quality and reliance in terms of speed and efficiency. My thoughts were almost turning me into that dead snake. The fear of regretting and the remorse that arises from self-blame saved me on that day. The journey seemed endless and spiraled in and out of the bushes like the railway line but if I had to blow the edges off and heat the surface, I had to keep doing what I do. I had to keep working, stand guard at my post and take it as a duty. Before leaving the chill spot I had resolved what I had to do. It was like January 1^st again!

Being someone who acts out as passively aggressive, I know when I am stuck in a rut. I needed a simple readjustment and a brief timeout so that I would move forward like never thought possible. Since I am still on unpaid vacations and leaves, I keep my vacation moments low key and prefer to talk less about them. However, during these moments I choose to steer off social media and reunite with reality so as to reset and revisit my goals. Life is not easy neither is it meant to be. We face obstacles and hurdles that we have to overcome.

Overcoming Hurdles

During my unification moments with the reality, I meet different people in pursuit of overcoming the hurdles the journey presents. To get yourself better prepared, you have to accept that things get tough and it won’t always be sweet smelling roses. Persistence is a key and understanding and truly believing that persistence delivers results will keep you moving forward. Quoting Winston Churchill; “If you have an important point to make, don’t try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time- a tremendous whack.”

Sometimes, we forget to stop and celebrate the victories our efforts have created. Be proud of where you have come from and what you have achieved and soak up your achievements no matter how small they are. The next time you feel like giving up, ask yourself if you did everything that you would have possibly done to maximize on an opportunity. Meanwhile be happy and in the quotable words of Mavado on State of mind riddim; “Never you give up inna life, give up on people, that’s a choice but never give up inna life.” God people, shine your light and never give up on your life.

 On this particular episode of Rick and Morty; Rick and Morty are stuck in a storyteller’s anthology as he tries to tap into their potentials. In what Rick describes as a human moment, he tears up because Summer, Morty’s Sister, is leaving for college. Story Lord taps further into Rick’s potential for a masterpiece. Rick results into telling a completely ‘unrelated and stupid’ story to save himself from the Story Lord who is obsessed with breaking the fifth wall in his endeavor to tap into their limitless potential.

Before burn out, to see how his story ends when it seems hopeless, Rick turns to prayer. ‘You are right Morty, sometimes it seems like there’s no way out, like it’s hopeless but remember there’s someone else always out there for us.’ Morty asks of who this unknown person might be. Rick continues, ‘My best friend and personal savior. Jesus Christ.’

The Story of Jesus

The surprise in Morty’s face whenever I watch this episode is inexpressible. It is the same expression drawn on the viewers face when Rick proceeds to go down on his knees and implore the mercy of God when Morty had always believed that Rick did not believe in God. However, without a doubt, Rick is sure that God always believes in ‘us’ and gave the free gift of eternal life.

On this particular day, I met two mzungus stranded on the ground floor of that apartment. one of them greeted me with an uncertain ‘mambo’ but I wasn’t sure it was intended for me. The least of my expectations that day was to speak to a white man. Looking back, I realized the salamu was meant for me and I retreated. Fist bump. Then came the introductions and I had made American friends without using the internet on that day.

The two American students/evangelists were a brave and social lot. Being in the country for less than a week, I found their confidence outstanding. I was interested in getting to understand if they would welcome me at their place with unequal hospitality as they referenced of Kenya. “In the suburbs people have guns. They will shoot you for trespassing.” The honesty in this answers scared some piece of me but ignited the part where I had to ask for their reason of travel.

The story of the Gospel

What is the gospel according to you? How can you define the gospel? I hope you are a Christian. if you profess your faith rightfully as one, you have already answered my questions. In case you are still looking for the right words to phrase your answer, do some introspection. You don’t just need an answer but the gospel. It is a question that nobody had previously posed. I was lost in thoughts for a few moments trying to figure out an answer to a simple question.

In the course of interaction with the mzungus’, I had the experience of getting their understanding of the gospel. It isn’t different from your own understanding of it. The source material of what the gospel is, is the same one for universal Christianity. The Bible. I was impressed by how effortless these guys quoted the bible verses. For sure, they had taken their time reading The Word. The New Testament was visibly written in their hearts while preaching the good gospel. It was a short interaction with minimal BS and a lot to learn.

The Story of Conversion

I love how relentless Jehovah Witness advocates are. Tell me you have not met one of their evangelist and I will ask, Kwani huko Nchi ingine? The gospel advocates spread the light of the word to the darkest places of the world. They have to convince the darkest souls of the light in Jesus Christ and the free gift of eternal life to dying souls which seek redemption. Is the mission possible without conversions?

Conversion is the greatest challenge of evangelism today. According to my Mzungu friend who had been in Kenya for two months, around 75% of the people in Nairobi say they are ‘Christians.’ This implies that they subscribe to a certain denomination or have a glimpse of the word of God. Many of these people believe that they left the darkness for the light when they joined a particular church or upon meeting this and that apostle or prophet. It is hard to teach an old dog new tricks and that’s how some souls lose redemption. Of interest, I was keen in noting how guile the prosperity gospel that has taken root in the sermon is purging more souls into eternal ruin. Listen to your pastors at your own peril. To the evangelist on missionary work; preach the Gospel and the Word of God and not the word of man.

Blessings. 

If I may ask, how many new people have you met this year? Upon reflection, you cannot remember all the faces that you have come across thus far. However, you remember something significant about someone you previously crossed paths with. What was that?

We hardly recognize our friends these days. A face mask covering the last third of their faces to wade off a pandemic is the least of concern. It is strange. Just like when you meet a stranger who to them, you are not a stranger but an acquaintance. Have you met a stranger who knows you so well? You get scared and then wane out that worry by asking questions that you feel will provide some clarity on how they know you. Often times, they will feel obligated to give you that clarity.

Start a Conversation

Take it this way. There is this girl that weakens your bones when you meet her. As you are spotless scared to talk to her, you set a council composed of likely leads who have an idea of who she is. Sometimes, the council oversteps the mandate and brings you the phone number that you wanted badly. However, things take a turn for the worse when she asks where you got her number from. Since explaining cowardice awakes one to the realization of its existence, you choose to deviate and let it slide. Please, can you gather the courage and do it yourself? In any case, if I am coming back alive, I will take that risk.

It is the same risk you take when starting a conversation with a stranger or when eavesdropping. It takes a pair of balls to interrupt someone in their story and ask them to clarify something when you were not an intended party in the conversation. There was this particular time that I was on the waiting bay of an office and the front desk staff was conversing on the impact of Corona virus. It doesn’t slip a mouth these days.

The discussion was interesting to listen too. One of the well-dressed men among the staff members outsmarted my intelligence. He was either a fool to believe what he was saying or was making himself stand out as one. He did not look like the typical fools you come across daily on the streets. For this day, his good looks had deceived him to leave his brain back at home. I sound judgmental but this is an observation I made from the impression he was trying to create.

The Delta Variant

The Delta variant of Corona virus had been reported in India at the time. The effects of the new variant were being felt by the sub-continent and the international media and social media were awash with details of the dire humanitarian crisis. People were dying in thousands and the global citizens were worried that this variant would spread across the tropics, something that has happened eventually.

Back to my fresh and clean man. He had an interesting theory that would cast the light to the people on the front desk on that day. His talk was well choreographed but insanely insensitive and ridiculous. ‘Let me tell you about what is happening in India. It is Punishment from God.’ These words set off an introduction to an interesting storytelling session.

With the left earpiece off my ear, I lowered the volume of my music player and decided to eavesdrop. There was no way I was going to miss out on this absurdity. There’s nothing uncomfortable and comforting at the same time as listening to a man nail another man on the cross. Ceasar had a field day with Jesus and look at the comfort he had when washing his hand. Such is the nature of man. I listened as this man explained faintly on polytheism in the religions of India and why the wrath of God had chosen such an opportune time. I was aghast. Despite his deep research on polytheism, he had little knowledge on the religions and the religious practices in the sub-continent.

 Simply, he was acting as a Christian. I do not mean to offend the Christians who feel entitled by having an honorable place in the sight of the Most High but look at how easily you spot the speck on the eyes of fellow men. Look at how easily we assume the role of the judge and forget our own iniquities. I wouldn’t stand that discussion neither would I take part in digging holes. In any case; if you are digging a hole, you have to dig two. I wouldn’t leave without sharing my thoughts with them too.

A Christian

I asked for a minute so that I would set my mind straight on what I had heard. Surprisingly, the gentleman had not remembered to say a prayer for these people that he felt needed a God. To set my conscious free, I advised him and his colleagues on doing it, since they had emphasized on how Christian and born again they were.

Faith, the beautiful lady that was seated at the reception found some light in what I had said and invited me to join their church and be a member of the ‘young blood’ that would bring salvation. It was the first good offer that I flatly refused this year. She did not give up since she asked for my number and tried to convince me a few more times to join their church. It was by fate that I happened to be in that office that morning but I chose my destiny. The sole of my shoes was as comforting as the internal peace in my soul as I was leaving. On the way, I couldn’t help but wonder endlessly on how blind men are leading other blind men. Jesus taught on this, peruse the gospel. Do not wait till it’s too late.

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A person’s eternal destiny is not predetermined.

 The Teacher

He is referred to as the Teacher or Rabbi. Come to think of it, I left school but I take lessons from life on a daily basis. Different encounters with different experiences and enormous lessons. In any learning, the teacher strikes the learners attention.

It is the Easter period and I revisit an account of one of the greatest and striking teachers of a lifetime. Read across the gospels. The striking and memorable teachings on the divinity of the Lord and the Kingdom of God and the variety of teaching methods that Jesus used perfectly portray a savior.

Imagine having to prove yourself kwa mbogi that you are worth their time and that they should abandon whatever they had going on and follow you. A hard task if you practically tried it but too easy if you read of it. At a time when a rabbi had to be formally trained, seeds of doubt where meant to thrive. Remember Thomas? However, before his death, people had recognized that Jesus was indeed a teacher sent from God. Like other teachers who rolled the streets in the cities and the countryside during His day, Jesus had disciples; buttressed his teaching with scripture, announced divine commands, used different teaching methods to make his teachings memorable and got into trouble with the government of the time on legal disputes. So this gets a thought across my mind. The government has always been around looking for trouble. Taxation is as equally controversial. (sic)

Parables and Memes

It’s all to impress. If He came back today and tried to use parables on us, the people of this generation, the impression would be dead before the revelation. Today, trap me with a meme and you will impress my agility. In case he came back today, 30sec stories and short undercut jabs on reality would make an instant impression on us the listeners of this generation. What if evil figured this out and decided to corrupt the souls of a generation? Remember, evil doesn’t take rest just as Jesus doesn’t take rest in trying to save.

‘Every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruits.’ With simple parallelism the Teacher would provide a massive lesson that is still applicable in our lives today. Nothing is hidden and the nature of the tree is made manifest in the fruits that are produced. The diseased nature of the tree might be hidden to the gardener but upon the coming of the light, which eventually happens, the secret comes out. I hope you read this as the parable I intend it to be or you can check the gospel of Mark to clear your doubts on my sense.

The Kingdom

‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field.’ We spend our entire days and lifelines on the fields. The purpose? We are looking for a treasure that we give different terms as we try to give meaning to life. For some; ni kuomoka bila apologies, kumake it no matter what, making it at the end, looking back and feeling proud and other “normalized” words that make it a daily effort worth our time and endeavors.

The kingdom of God is central in the teaching of Jesus. Beyond the physical realm that we hope to kuomoka and build our own kingdoms, Jesus taught of another kingdom that is a present reality and a future hope that His followers ought to invest in.

 Jesus said, “ My kingdom is not of this world.” When darkness fell on that city that afternoon, the intern Roman soldier who was faithfully following the orders from above witnessed the presence of that kingdom. In this world you ought to ask yourself, “people need salvation. Will they save you?” No guarantees.

I had the Best Easter Weekend yet! Happy Easter Too.

I had not believed that it could turn you blind until I found someone who could not see a spot.

My Chest

Would it not be nice if this was all about me and I got to get some things off my chest? However, this is not about me but I see from their eye as they said this to me. What can one say of love if they live with hate? Will they not stab their hate right into your love and ooze an ounce of believe out of you? That is why you feel robbed when the memories and worries cloud your mind. Did you check the weather report, they didn’t say I have a clear mind, did they?

Dilemma.

“I love someone but I think I found someone. I don’t know.” For me this did not envision a dilemma in any way for it crossed my mind that it was time that she had found someone. For her, this was not the case. It was a real dilemma. I am out the loop on this but isn’t interesting?

The talks of his goals and plans overwhelmed her senses. Spinning and grinning and with that he was in her head as she tried to figure out the next move. Conversations can be healing. However, not with everyone. For this, she did not need to listen to anyone but herself. The conscious and the heart entangled in a crisis.

She loved him but she never got it to him. Was she ever going to? Now the time was upon her, her thoughts hijacked and attention divided and taken away. With no memories to hold on too she wanted to explore the end of the tunnel but someone had shone a light from the other. Remember biblically someone turning to a saline rock? It was a crisis.

Emotionally, I could feel the torture and I had a genuine question that I had held back but felt conflicted. I was willing and ready to know If you treated someone right, cared for them, checked in them, been together every day and night and shared a shelter and room if what they felt was love.

The road not taken is unconvincing but can be the path to the promised land. The road you trod can be the right one and the road you take defines the beginning of a new course. You see the dilemma now. I had no word for a soul confused at a junction. But before you get to the junction, you ought to have a destination.

A Destination.

She was on a stroll when a stranger stopped her. Without a plan on the lane, a stranger beckoned her to the side and with a sneaky smile and a lame jab swept her pride off the pedestals. She was bound to fall for anything for she never stood for anything. Not for love. That was a risk too much for her but she thought that she now had figured it out. Or, the saving grace she had always been praying for had come sufficient of salvation.

Without a specific destination of her own, she was now in limbo. But for me it did not stand for a dilemma but an outright fall. A fall not off pride but anything. the ignition key and the legs on the acceleration, it was time to set off on a journey. She was not ready to pack yet but the time was ticking. However, another wasted opportunity to pick her brassier was a regret held back and a loose tear held back.

It was a lesson that I still could not learn. Sometimes, it’s on the surface for everyone to see. Other times, it’s below but so as above… It’s a conversation that I could not give a resolve. A conversation into introspection where she had only herself to listen to. Could she do that for me?

What is left out of seven if six are declared mad?

A morning Medii.

The first word has reached God’s ears and look at me now. Good graces befell my ancestors and look at the descendants. Dollar vans escorted to the depository and all they have to say is ‘he’s a despot.’ Money moves aside; hear them flow with lingual insults and forget this power comes with authority from the absolute; for who else can? Them go down on their knees, every Sunday, asking for special favours from Him mighty every day. They covet. Jah grant them mercy and the resilience to watch me flex pon this seat as I hold me meditation every morning. Bewildered with service to man and Him High up, I stretch my back on the recliner and catch a glimpse of the rave of activities down in the city. ‘God help those souls in their hunting today. Do people still gather wild berries and roots?’

A Consensus and Back stabbers.

As the CEO of this great nation and the leader of the different nationalities that make us one, I do my work diligently. Do you dispute?  On a particular dry morning you choose me to do you the service of representing you. Not once but as time tells, I still I am the CEO you so much adore and respect. Do you await my speech with exhilaration? If you don’t, you still have to listen to what I have to say and if you have no time for that, listen to the people. But do not listen to them all. Cynics and critics patrol the streets looking for converts and they pree the weak hearts. The critics almost brought me down during my first term as your adored CEO. Talking about and exposing my business deals and practices. They became too loud I had to often ease the tension with a sachet of warangi on a regular. For years they spoke evil and saw no good. I heard they talk of how hot hell is but rarely do they appreciate the blacksmiths in the furnace down the abyss keeping the fire ablaze. I silenced them with your help and now they dine on my table, tired of taking the leftovers; which many of you appreciate earnestly. Now my own people can’t accommodate a lost brethren and are now throwing pebbles. Their intentions; a desire to take over the dining table after my turn to get the meals is over. Why so soon? I saw an opportunity for a new consensus and this destabilizes the butterflies in their guts. A consensus for a masterpiece from a master planner has brought us to strange times; a party opposing itself. Despite my maneuvers in dealing with a noisy critic posed as an observer of my activities, I now face informal critics in my own wing.  

The Hustlers cause

The royalty and commoners agree on democracy and not on the means used to get a meal pon the table every evening. The commoner pree our resources and wealth. Some turn into impatient thieves and a cold piece of metal silences their runs. ‘The hustlers scatter upon a bang.’ A confidante, styled as an hustler intimated this. I guess them hustlers do not snatch and grab for many live to come near the royal quarters. When here, all they talk about is the next hustler down the line. What can you do for them to get a seat pon the table? Is all they ask about. ‘Who’s that next hustler down the trenches working their way up?’ I ask. A youth trying to acquire a job after completing his education is the first mention they have; highlighting his brilliance, intelligence and untouched sense of integrity and hard work. During my silent meditations I recall these moments when I have to save a brilliant youth from depression and I cut open my warangi sachet and wince as the liquid goes down the throat and in a second I have a liver to worry about. ‘The business people are suffering and you can save them as the big CEO.’ I know. Taxes and debts are bad for business, so is inaction. I give a promise to check this out only on the promise of a bigger revenue from these people. I heard farmers are big time hustlers too. Big meals in the oven. All they have to do is practice some patience and I will get to them. what about hunger. I will get to that after a meal. A healthy CEO, a healthy nation.

To be continued…….

The rooftop breeze gives the perfect atmosphere for storytelling and comic. During my blank space moments, I take a few flights to the center stage of everything worth a listen from the youths trying to get a cut from life. Thuggery and itchy fingers dominate the struggle they mount on a daily pon the streets today.

Slide Pockets.

I walk with my hands in my pocket to keep whatever is in there, inside my pockets. Mama says this is rude and lazy. I’d rather be rude to a con than drop me guard. As I go for my spot, on the second step of the staircase, him youth next me recounts an experience.

A street urchin comes asking for a pound to offset the worm-deficit in his gut, the left hand holding a Dasani-type bottle filled with some strange sticky fluid, Mafuta ya ndege. The sticky fluid gets you higher than a kite, according to a trusted source I had a deep convo with on substance abuse a while back. Like the youth pon the sticky fluid, me narrator is as broke as the youth. The difference; a clean slim-fit suit and a disfigured bottle with some highness.

‘I need an escort to settle the discomfort that comes when I get to the clouds.’ The escort; a snack. ‘I got fare only but when Jah bless, me drop a dime on a regular pon your hands.’ The fly-youth doesn’t buy the words and is interested on a now and not a future that is uncertain. ‘ I fast without saying a prayer. I sleep on the cold floors and wake up to a warm sunlight each gracious day. I don’t have a promised meal but I get a meal more often than you would expect. I don’t have standards like you got. I am ill-mannered. If you know anything about manners, you will realize that I don’t play along. I had a humble request but you are playing hard ball and I am hungry.’

The pickney goes for the pockets, grabs a pair of earphones and a dirty fifty shillings note; the kind that has transitioned from the rich to the poor to the needy and back to the streets. ‘I will spare your smartphone today as I wait for my big blessings as you await yours. Thank you for todays’ meal and in case you are interested, I got a pair of earphones that I can sell you at a reasonable price. ‘

Superior Cunning.

Fresh from muchatha, I came to town looking for a great life away from the rurals. I step into town and I am pretty confused.  Up the road from country bus, I met a group of teen youths. Silver slings and rings; an underground rapper perfect pose. A canine covered by a sparkling silver cusp; ultimate badness and swag. Style and swag attracted me to them and I decided to ask for directions around town. We take a few turns and the demands start coming in. ‘Fare ni how much? we are not the cheap type. We offer VIP services if you can afford us. You see the boys moving bulk in them trolleys? They work for us. Wasee kanjo know and trust us with their bidding. You have no reason to be worried. Where are you headed to?’

This was the last conversation they had before turning on him. After getting to some abandoned train station, they requested to use his cellphone to make a call to the head of their security department to report a breech; a breech of trust. Expensive sneakers, a bag with all his assortments and any means of communication gone. Tied to the railway line, the vibrations of an oncoming train awakened him from a deep sleep with faint memories of what transpired.

Stitch Up

The youths are choosing crime over life. Life choices are a task but choosing a longer life is greater than growing a tumor that will eventually kill your vibe. I got no respect for thieves. Violent robbery, cunning ways, trickery and corruption represent theft and no sweet-coating can portray a contrary thought or perspective. I leave the rooftop having shared my own experiences with mading’o, turaia and upcoming crooks in my maneuvers around town. Sometimes, negotiation has been my chemotherapy.