Chapter 2: Moving to Nairobi
Then I thought of moving to Nairobi to make my own money and afford the lifestyle for myself, or to learn to steal it and continue the norm I knew. I started asking around and found a willing friend who could house me when I came to Nairobi. I started floating out the story to mum and told her what lay inside my heart. I wanted to come hustle in Nairobi, look for my own fee to support myself, support mum, for she had given birth to men who would once day fill the large shoes that dad filled but had left upon his death. I wanted my young brother to see what it meant to be grown up, what it meant to have an elder brother who could show you where to step, when you did not have a male figure to look up to. But mum, was against me, No she shouted, stay here I will send you to school when I have money. But I did not want her to continue witnessing who I was becoming, to me the Nyanguju name had to be held high and I saw me ruining the reputation. I often feared that neighbors would make negative judgments concerning her. One that her son has followed the paths of the father, two the mommy was a weakling who could not raise her children without a man. I saw how people would laugh at her, how people would look down upon her for having a drunk in the society, the name given to the society drunk was bad, even though among peers, it was cool. I feared it would come upon her and sought out to prove myself a man. I differed with mum, and left Oyugis for Nairobi. I did not even tell her, but left the message to my brother. I was leaving and I was not going to come back, until my life was different.
Upon arriving to Nairobi, I settled down in Kibera, and my friend talked to a friend, who organized to get me a job. My first job was as a painter, more or less, a floor scrubber, for I removed the paint off the door. I did the job for most of the time in Kibera and ksh. 4800 at the end of the week was much money, for I could do a lot of things with it. Beer was easily purchasable and clubs were fun. I had money, I could spend it, and there were sluts, what a combination. I yearned for more experience of the Nairobi life and I knew that money was a dominant factor. Without it, you could do nothing, without it, you cannot drive the car you like, live in the house you like, hang out with the girl you like, without it your were nothing but a pauper. Then I got the motivation to work in the hotel industry. With the money I had, all the lifestyle was coming back, but in a more organized way, they were transforming my look among peers and I could say, that I was beginning to know the Nairobi life. Life in Kibera was hectic, the mud, the rains, the sewages, but the glory I sought was more than that. I wanted a good life and I found the hotel industry to have more tips, a better living standard, more energy to take up responsibilities and my mind shifted. I met a friend who referred me to another and it was all set. I deserted Kibera and ran away to Mathare North which was more upscale, in the slums category and sought my residence. I found a room in which to stay and life began anew.
A took up a new life, new friends, new habits, and before Long, I was falling in love. Her beauty, her teeth, she was young, unspoilt, a delicate flower to me. I saw her and could not hesitate to go sit outside my gate just to say hi. This was a new step; I needed more money, all that beauty I thought could only be retained by money. Realizing I had none of that, I decided to try out a new hobby; I would perfect the art of sex and win her with that if money failed me. When high on weed and drunk, I often thought to myself that they were aphrodisiacs and could transform a man into a beast and in my mind, the thrill was coursing through me. From then on, the aphrodisiacs were born, I could go longer and the sex was better with every interaction, I felt it to the deepest inches of my heart. Getting hooked to sex on weed became easy, and each time it was enjoyable. And I often told of how it was sweet, I often bragged of how the aphrodisiacs heightened all my senses and made sex awesome until my girlfriend decided to try it out with me. We found a new thing to do together, she was more than a friend then, a buddy we could share spaces with, a friend I could confide in and who could confide in me. It became more than just sex, more than friendship; she was blossoming into a companion.
I was young, teenagers having the time of their life. I stole still from my workplace to support my lifestyle and that became the norm. We smoked weed, had the awesome of sex, had the best of conversations. Here was one lady who understood me, she knew what buttons to press, she knew how to get me out of my shell, I was breaking through the boundaries of communication and for once, she knew how to do it. I became open to let go of my fears. She was encouraging, her sight seemed to just warrant a conversation, she often had something to say and I was getting good at listening, contributing and pushing the conversation further. I still say she knew how to do it. I was getting more comfortable with her and I started seeing her more as a wife-to-be. I often looked at her as the mother of my children and even when she became pregnant with our first child, I knew that my dreams had become true. I loved the idea of rushing home to my child; even just to hear her beat in her mother’s womb. I poured out my heart to love her and deeply I fell. She was no longer the chick I saw, but she was turning into a beautiful queen. She inspired me each day and I admired to be the better of myself. Later, when we lost our child, I was broken, I was hurt deeply, anger caught the better of me, we got into a fight, I was being foolish. And that was the beginning of the desire to break her heart. I took it upon myself to inflict on her pain than she ever felt, to bring upon her guilt in ways she never imagined; I wanted to make her feel worthless. I wanted to make her loose the sense of what life was, I only desired to tear everything apart. I was going to tear her heart bit by bit until she felt like it was inappropriate to live. And yes, my plan worked, and on different occasions, I was the one trying to help her with the healing process.
We would fight and break up, but I was always quick to ask for forgiveness and come back crawling. That grew into the norm and before we knew it, violence was spreading to the balcony and the staircases. Before long, we were parting ways, the sex was dead, the feelings gone, the pleasure dissipated, the joy unknown. The strings of pain I rained on her broke her heart on several occasions. I had hurt her more than I could. Yet, the flame burned on, I said I had forgiven her for every pain she caused and asked her to forgive me but I held onto it like a pet, a dog to unleash when I saw her. Irreconcilable differences drew us apart, and I got pleasure in porn and I wanked to relieve off the sexual build up. This was my uncontrollable fix within the hours regardless of whether she was present or not. I smoked and wanked off the porn and mourned myself to pleasure. I got an outlet in my old habits and the wanks continued. By now I was getting hooked to the internet and porn was easy to find. No more purchasing of tapes at exorbitant prices, all I could do was get to the cyber and download hours of porn. I took my pet and indulged my sexual appetites. Although I was breaking my relationship apart, I knew I had to tear it down, and even if that meant starving off sexually, hating my girlfriend to the depths of it, sleeping with other women behind her back, speaking ill of her with friends, I was on an all-out assault until we both agreed it was not working out. I always valued her opinions because I knew we could only function as one. Because we had been long time friends, we were more open to the other. We reached a conclusion which was decided upon and we had to go apart.
Meanwhile, I was starting to shift focus from drinking alcohol and smoking weed to concentrate on my education. I choose the best school to study IT and I picked on Computer Pride on ICEA building and took the course affiliated to Middlesex university. The problem, I was choosing the course for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to be better at stealing, I wanted to perfect the art. And with money by my side, I could learn my way and I had a game plan laid down. Clear the four years, move to South Africa for some intense studies and later move to the United Kingdom for even intense lessons. After enrolling, IT was no joke, programming required focus and concentration, which I often was not good at. My short term memory was already broken, given the consumption of weed and I could not concentrate on it for along. Gradually I began to see the dream slipping out of my hands, even though I tried to hold on to it. I needed to find solace and even after smoking weed, I could not focus on programming right. I often heard stories from friends on how people they knew were making money by faking cheques and working the banking system, and I wanted to do it better. When I sat down with programmers and they talked of hacking, I desired to do it better. But without knowledge and mastery of programming, the dream of growing this pet into a career was growing stagnant.
I took to raving to console myself and spend time reflecting on everything. I would smoke weed in the house, drink 750 mls of hard liquor before going to the club where I would drink even more. Bit by bit my heart started racing in wild ways and I took to dancing within the house and at clubs just to calm down. I needed to spend all the energy that was building up in me. At the clubs, I danced wildly, spent money on women whom I had little knowledge of what to do with them since I had a lady back in the house. Dancing was fun, until I started dancing with men. I would shake my own waist and find myself comfortable in the hands of another man. On one occasion, a bouncer came my way, held me by the neck and simply told me, “Hizo tabia hatutaki hapa (We do not want those behaviors here).” I looked at him sternly wondering what he saw in me that I did not see. That was the beginning of me questioning my own self. I found a clique of gays whom we used to hang out with, I often claimed that everyone was equal and I could not discriminate. So I socialized with them openly and listened to their stories. Back at home, I had ditched my relationship and even though we often went out to rave and party, it was no longer the same. I felt like we were two strays at home, just living to accommodate the other. Raving required money, which I did not have and at times, I would steal from my girlfriend’s bag, for she earned much, problem was how to spend it. I crept into her bag when she was back from work, took notes, for I knew she would not realize what happened to the money, when she woke up, being she worked at the hotel industry. I would deny ever taking the money and when pushed to the wall, I was always on the defensive.
Now she was living with a petty thief, a drunk, and a stray who could not find it in himself to keep his pants on. Within the house, I was no longer respectful, I treated her like trash, and even though I earned my own money, I craved to find more just to sustain my lifestyle. So here I was, schooling was not working fine, my alcohol and weed intake had not reduced, I was becoming a pettier thief, and I started trembling without a drink, when on a drink, and when high. The moment I lost all sense of direction concerning my sexuality was when my sexual desires started raging. With every desire to get high and feel the intense sweetness of sex, to get more from wanking and to make the sweetest of love, I was letting loose. I remember the first time, I sodomized her, I begged literarily for it and when she gave in, it was tight. Anal sex was intense at that point, I loved it, it got hold of me intensely than I ever imagined. It was like, it hit all my nerve centers and though it was all filthy, I was attracted to it the more. I did not mind wiping off feces from my penis. All was well, and there began my craving for more anal sex. However, she declined, she did not give into my weird desires anymore and as I sat there broken, I needed an outlet. Normal sex was just not enough, I needed an edge. The strain of weed I smoked was just not too strong, I was growing resistant, the liquor too was not strong enough, I needed to knock myself off often. One time, a friend brought me some strain of weed laced with some additives, I do not know what, and it drove me insane. I felt like I was losing it and it messed me up, strange thing is I needed more of it and there began my crave for more. My intake quantities grew and I could no longer work on my laptop within the house.
Upon arriving to Nairobi, I settled down in Kibera, and my friend talked to a friend, who organized to get me a job. My first job was as a painter, more or less, a floor scrubber, for I removed the paint off the door. I did the job for most of the time in Kibera and ksh. 4800 at the end of the week was much money, for I could do a lot of things with it. Beer was easily purchasable and clubs were fun. I had money, I could spend it, and there were sluts, what a combination. I yearned for more experience of the Nairobi life and I knew that money was a dominant factor. Without it, you could do nothing, without it, you cannot drive the car you like, live in the house you like, hang out with the girl you like, without it your were nothing but a pauper. Then I got the motivation to work in the hotel industry. With the money I had, all the lifestyle was coming back, but in a more organized way, they were transforming my look among peers and I could say, that I was beginning to know the Nairobi life. Life in Kibera was hectic, the mud, the rains, the sewages, but the glory I sought was more than that. I wanted a good life and I found the hotel industry to have more tips, a better living standard, more energy to take up responsibilities and my mind shifted. I met a friend who referred me to another and it was all set. I deserted Kibera and ran away to Mathare North which was more upscale, in the slums category and sought my residence. I found a room in which to stay and life began anew.
A took up a new life, new friends, new habits, and before Long, I was falling in love. Her beauty, her teeth, she was young, unspoilt, a delicate flower to me. I saw her and could not hesitate to go sit outside my gate just to say hi. This was a new step; I needed more money, all that beauty I thought could only be retained by money. Realizing I had none of that, I decided to try out a new hobby; I would perfect the art of sex and win her with that if money failed me. When high on weed and drunk, I often thought to myself that they were aphrodisiacs and could transform a man into a beast and in my mind, the thrill was coursing through me. From then on, the aphrodisiacs were born, I could go longer and the sex was better with every interaction, I felt it to the deepest inches of my heart. Getting hooked to sex on weed became easy, and each time it was enjoyable. And I often told of how it was sweet, I often bragged of how the aphrodisiacs heightened all my senses and made sex awesome until my girlfriend decided to try it out with me. We found a new thing to do together, she was more than a friend then, a buddy we could share spaces with, a friend I could confide in and who could confide in me. It became more than just sex, more than friendship; she was blossoming into a companion.
I was young, teenagers having the time of their life. I stole still from my workplace to support my lifestyle and that became the norm. We smoked weed, had the awesome of sex, had the best of conversations. Here was one lady who understood me, she knew what buttons to press, she knew how to get me out of my shell, I was breaking through the boundaries of communication and for once, she knew how to do it. I became open to let go of my fears. She was encouraging, her sight seemed to just warrant a conversation, she often had something to say and I was getting good at listening, contributing and pushing the conversation further. I still say she knew how to do it. I was getting more comfortable with her and I started seeing her more as a wife-to-be. I often looked at her as the mother of my children and even when she became pregnant with our first child, I knew that my dreams had become true. I loved the idea of rushing home to my child; even just to hear her beat in her mother’s womb. I poured out my heart to love her and deeply I fell. She was no longer the chick I saw, but she was turning into a beautiful queen. She inspired me each day and I admired to be the better of myself. Later, when we lost our child, I was broken, I was hurt deeply, anger caught the better of me, we got into a fight, I was being foolish. And that was the beginning of the desire to break her heart. I took it upon myself to inflict on her pain than she ever felt, to bring upon her guilt in ways she never imagined; I wanted to make her feel worthless. I wanted to make her loose the sense of what life was, I only desired to tear everything apart. I was going to tear her heart bit by bit until she felt like it was inappropriate to live. And yes, my plan worked, and on different occasions, I was the one trying to help her with the healing process.
We would fight and break up, but I was always quick to ask for forgiveness and come back crawling. That grew into the norm and before we knew it, violence was spreading to the balcony and the staircases. Before long, we were parting ways, the sex was dead, the feelings gone, the pleasure dissipated, the joy unknown. The strings of pain I rained on her broke her heart on several occasions. I had hurt her more than I could. Yet, the flame burned on, I said I had forgiven her for every pain she caused and asked her to forgive me but I held onto it like a pet, a dog to unleash when I saw her. Irreconcilable differences drew us apart, and I got pleasure in porn and I wanked to relieve off the sexual build up. This was my uncontrollable fix within the hours regardless of whether she was present or not. I smoked and wanked off the porn and mourned myself to pleasure. I got an outlet in my old habits and the wanks continued. By now I was getting hooked to the internet and porn was easy to find. No more purchasing of tapes at exorbitant prices, all I could do was get to the cyber and download hours of porn. I took my pet and indulged my sexual appetites. Although I was breaking my relationship apart, I knew I had to tear it down, and even if that meant starving off sexually, hating my girlfriend to the depths of it, sleeping with other women behind her back, speaking ill of her with friends, I was on an all-out assault until we both agreed it was not working out. I always valued her opinions because I knew we could only function as one. Because we had been long time friends, we were more open to the other. We reached a conclusion which was decided upon and we had to go apart.
Meanwhile, I was starting to shift focus from drinking alcohol and smoking weed to concentrate on my education. I choose the best school to study IT and I picked on Computer Pride on ICEA building and took the course affiliated to Middlesex university. The problem, I was choosing the course for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to be better at stealing, I wanted to perfect the art. And with money by my side, I could learn my way and I had a game plan laid down. Clear the four years, move to South Africa for some intense studies and later move to the United Kingdom for even intense lessons. After enrolling, IT was no joke, programming required focus and concentration, which I often was not good at. My short term memory was already broken, given the consumption of weed and I could not concentrate on it for along. Gradually I began to see the dream slipping out of my hands, even though I tried to hold on to it. I needed to find solace and even after smoking weed, I could not focus on programming right. I often heard stories from friends on how people they knew were making money by faking cheques and working the banking system, and I wanted to do it better. When I sat down with programmers and they talked of hacking, I desired to do it better. But without knowledge and mastery of programming, the dream of growing this pet into a career was growing stagnant.
I took to raving to console myself and spend time reflecting on everything. I would smoke weed in the house, drink 750 mls of hard liquor before going to the club where I would drink even more. Bit by bit my heart started racing in wild ways and I took to dancing within the house and at clubs just to calm down. I needed to spend all the energy that was building up in me. At the clubs, I danced wildly, spent money on women whom I had little knowledge of what to do with them since I had a lady back in the house. Dancing was fun, until I started dancing with men. I would shake my own waist and find myself comfortable in the hands of another man. On one occasion, a bouncer came my way, held me by the neck and simply told me, “Hizo tabia hatutaki hapa (We do not want those behaviors here).” I looked at him sternly wondering what he saw in me that I did not see. That was the beginning of me questioning my own self. I found a clique of gays whom we used to hang out with, I often claimed that everyone was equal and I could not discriminate. So I socialized with them openly and listened to their stories. Back at home, I had ditched my relationship and even though we often went out to rave and party, it was no longer the same. I felt like we were two strays at home, just living to accommodate the other. Raving required money, which I did not have and at times, I would steal from my girlfriend’s bag, for she earned much, problem was how to spend it. I crept into her bag when she was back from work, took notes, for I knew she would not realize what happened to the money, when she woke up, being she worked at the hotel industry. I would deny ever taking the money and when pushed to the wall, I was always on the defensive.
Now she was living with a petty thief, a drunk, and a stray who could not find it in himself to keep his pants on. Within the house, I was no longer respectful, I treated her like trash, and even though I earned my own money, I craved to find more just to sustain my lifestyle. So here I was, schooling was not working fine, my alcohol and weed intake had not reduced, I was becoming a pettier thief, and I started trembling without a drink, when on a drink, and when high. The moment I lost all sense of direction concerning my sexuality was when my sexual desires started raging. With every desire to get high and feel the intense sweetness of sex, to get more from wanking and to make the sweetest of love, I was letting loose. I remember the first time, I sodomized her, I begged literarily for it and when she gave in, it was tight. Anal sex was intense at that point, I loved it, it got hold of me intensely than I ever imagined. It was like, it hit all my nerve centers and though it was all filthy, I was attracted to it the more. I did not mind wiping off feces from my penis. All was well, and there began my craving for more anal sex. However, she declined, she did not give into my weird desires anymore and as I sat there broken, I needed an outlet. Normal sex was just not enough, I needed an edge. The strain of weed I smoked was just not too strong, I was growing resistant, the liquor too was not strong enough, I needed to knock myself off often. One time, a friend brought me some strain of weed laced with some additives, I do not know what, and it drove me insane. I felt like I was losing it and it messed me up, strange thing is I needed more of it and there began my crave for more. My intake quantities grew and I could no longer work on my laptop within the house.
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