Game Over.

*This may or may not have happened.*

He walks with a subtle swagger. Like he’s just from reading one of those dangerous motivational quotes that are sprinkled all over the internet. Kina “Believe you can and you’re halfway there.” One more, “The best way to see the future is to create it.” This stuff is dangerous. It’s like diarrhea. On this day he put on a non-iron burgundy shirt. I think the watch was Patek Phillipe, cream khaki pants. I didn’t take a good look at his shoes. Neat. Dapper. Self-respecting. Boasted of the many compliments he had received on that day- because, the colour of his shirt. Let’s call this guy Angus. He resembles Big Bang Theory’s Howard Hofstadter. Very horny fellow. Not his fault. Also, he’s always complaining. Always boasts about his conquests. He’s a player in the game. A fisherman. Casts out his fishing net and waits for the returns. He’s young, in no hurry to settle. Just wants to eat fish. I think he’s also a drummer in church. Should have paid attention. Si that’s where all the good girls go. His life is like an episode of Tujuane. Now you know which game I’m talking about.

This game is necessary a challenge to all of us millennials. A trap. Just like anything that gets you high. I call them traps because you can never fully seem to get out of them at the right time. They are best of friends during times of depression. More expensive mistakes. Feels like they understand. If you don’t draw the line soon enough, drugs and sex will suck you in. You become the slave. This is just food for thought… Jay Z adds “you do the dishes.”


Angus once told me, “Hii game mi huicheza kama sniper.” He didn’t explain this sentence. The left side of my brain asked the right- How do you hit on a girl from a distance? The right also didn’t know. I’m sort of old fashioned. Anyways, I don’t think it deserves to be called the dating game any more.

He looks disturbed. He paces all over the place, phone in hand, then decides to sit. I take it as my cue to ask what’s wrong. Keep in mind, I was really trying to mind my own business.

Buda, is how?”

“Tsk. Davie…Tsk.” He knows what to say, doesn’t know how to say it.

It’s obviously a girl problem. We’ll call her Sally.

“How are things with you and Sally?”

“Sijui dem anataka nini…anataka vitu haziko.” (I don’t know what she wants, her needs are abstract.) He rarely speaks English.

He had met this girl. They hit things off pretty well. He told me he had plans for her one Friday. He’s got guile. After gaining her trust, it was time for another kind of thrust. Sorry…I meant to say Trust. Another kind of Trust. I’m old fashioned so I thought maybe it’s Bible study.(BS!). I think they read Songs of Solomon that night. Who knows. What better way to bond? I remember thinking he was one lucky devil. Never saw him again till this very day. Naturally, I assumed all was well.

He forces me to speak Swahili. “Hio inamaanisha nini?” (What does that mean?)

“Hivo tu. Anataka vitu haziko. Vitu siwezi fanya.” (Her needs are abstract. There are things I just cannot do.)

I laugh.

“Ulishindwa kuperform?” (You couldn’t perform?)

Zii. Hakuna kitu ilihappen hio day. (Nothing happened on that day.)


So what was wrong?

My big mouth. I should have kept quiet. He lets loose. He rants. Feels led on. Used. Like he’s not sure if she’s sending him the right signals. Chances of winning this game are slim. He’s stuck between trying harder and moving on. And it’s her fault. He talks about how they’re not on the same level of intellect. Almost calls her stupid. How she’s always pestering him on a good day, then blue ticking him on the next.

“Dem kazi yake kunichapia story za ngwai, nipatie ngwai, Uko na ngwai? Nipee ngwai.” (Rhymes with “why”) Ngwai-n’t it? I feel bad for him. He doesn’t know where he stands with her. Or maybe his ego is just bruised. See how dangerous those quotes are? He had probably read something like “Work so hard that one day your signature will be called an autograph.” And now, after all that hard work, he  didn’t get to sign his autograph on her book. His ink and pen stayed put, in his pocket. Hehe. He’s dejected. He feels like a weed. A fungus. Angus the fungus. I’m one of those people who have to laugh at you first before anything. Because it’s never that serious- we have to make light of these things that annoy us.

Besides, I was minding my own business. I was having a shit week, a boring Thursday night. I was struggling to finish a piece I’ve titled You Give Me Peace. Then he comes to me like I’m some Doctor Love. Some shrink. Notice he didn’t even ask how I was doing? Always forgets to read my blog… I think long and hard. I tell him to just be frank with her. He’ll never know until he asks.

“Unataka nimwambie yeye ni bitch?”

“Noooo…” I laugh. I use this word only when “insulting” my male friends.

“Aki tena, huyu dem ni bitch.” He really is angry. But here’s the thing, there was no gun to his head when he was doing her all those favours. When he was being the nice guy. I explain this to him. I mean sure, he became too nice and she took advantage. Nice dog, no dog biscuit. No cookie. But shouldn’t he learn from this? There’s plenty of girls out there who’d fawn over a burgundy shirt. If not this, he should wear a placard and let it scream “I PLAY THE DRUM IN CHURCH.” But of course he’s not that desperate. Also, I’m no expert. Instead of insulting her, he should let her be. He should learn to say no to questions of why (ngwai).   She’s just one fish, you little fu…*fungus!

There are three sides to every story. I heard his side. She obviously has her side. Then there’s the truth. He’s obviously not telling me the whole truth. I don’t bother to ask more. Truth is usually hard to come by nowadays. It is no longer an every day thing. You can’t even find it in the streets. Have you seen those Daily Nation BELIEVE bill boards in town? Lies. Maybe he stunk of overzealousness. Maybe she realized they could only be friends. All she wanted was to just go watch a movie as friends. He could have said or done something stupid. What if Sally was broke and needed a decent meal and Angus was just there waving his wallet like it was a paper fan. What if she just needed a ride home, no strings. To be honest though, she should have made it perfectly clear. No games.

Suffice it to say we’ve all used someone.We’re not perfect. Maybe this is life catching up to him. He owes life a debt. Millennials, life never forgets. He’s used people too. I’ve used people (I’ll paid for it). I’ve been used. And I’m still here. Alive.

Karma is the bitch here. Not Sally. I explain this to him like he was a five year old. Life’s the female dog, bro. And, if you don’t move on, you let life win. I don’t manage to fully convince him, but I succeed in calming him down. The rant stops. I decide not to make any jokes. Didn’t want him to spark. At this point I just want to write. I want him to leave.

It’s around 10:30. He’s breathing slowly now. Remembers his phone is in his hand. He checks his Twitter and the first story he sees pisses him off…

“Ona sasa…!”

I cross my fingers. Not again, Angus.

“What I was telling you, dame ameachwa na mzungu wake kwa sababu ya ujinga ya…”

Theeere we go again. Thanks for making him spark Twitter.


B for, blessing

B for, blog

B for, boy

B for, burgundy

B for, (Before) you leave this blog,

B for, bless me with a share?




19 thoughts on “Game Over.

  1. It’s a thrust, I agree…. Literally skills improving after every article… I like the suspense you create, it’s hard to leave your article halfway.

  2. I’m always waiting for the notification of your posts David..your blogs intrigue me. I hope the next piece comes soon…

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