Barrack Obama

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You know Obama, right? You know that he is the incumbent president of the U.S, correct? What’s more you realize that he has Kenyan roots, and you additionally know that he is a black American, that he was a representative of Illinois before, that he has profound roots from Amollo’s hood. You know all that, right? That his dad was one of the arrestingly dark Luos from the Lake District, and you additionally know that he had a white mother, and that he has dark siblings and sisters. Isn’t that so? Actually, in the event that you know all that certainly I announce you a virtuoso, and much the same as DJ Khaled, say my name baby (declare my personal label little one).

You know Kenyans are insane, right? I mean insane in a positive light. They are innovative with the primitive energy South Korea was discussing  in that they enhance things that barely have any kind of effect, centered to belittle and twist a specific figure to death. They can photo shop something so pleasant to make you snicker your ass out, they can innovatively develop words in an extremely funny manner that can make you lose your ribs- however why wouldn’t we be able to have these youthful shrewd individuals imagine something like a mechanical seat or a cell phone that can walk so you don’t need to bring it all through, or even concoct a talking book or something. I mean something extraordinary and spectacular for us to demonstrate to the world.

I mean they can sit down and frame frivolous statements, like the one below

Mzangila: call my name baby.

You: Mzangila

Mzangila: say my name again baby.

You: Mzangila

Mzangila: you are brilliant, you are virtuoso. Take this cash and purchase yourself a bra, say my name again baby.

You: Mzangila

Mzangila: adorable, lovely, beguiling; take this cash and purchase yourself another undies. Say my name baby.

You: Mzangila.

Mzangila: you are lovable, take this cash and purchase lip shine, and this purchase new wig, and this purchase new shoes, and this purchase yourself a fragrant scent, and this purchase new official garments not these unpresentable clothes. Say my name again baby.

You: Mzangila

Mzangila: Mzangila ni nyanyako, toa uso apa. Go and purchase yourself new stuff and report to work on Monday. My customers say you look disturbing in those shabby stuff you wear.

Actually, those are simply Kenyans. I would prefer not to sound as though I have something transformational, or huge to boast about. I am in the parcel of individuals with primitive vitality. They can wake pretty much consistently and the first melody that hits their heads is Bruno Mars’ “lethargic tune” (lazy song).There and there they begin a dear voice, at a young hour in the morning

‘Today I don’t feel like doing anything
I just wanna lay in my bed
Don’t feel like picking up my phone
So leave a message at the tone
‘Cause today I swear I’m not doing anything

Uh I’m gonna kick my feet up and stare at the fan
Turn the TV. on
Throw my hand in my pants
Nobody’s gon’ tell me I cant, no

I’ll be loungin’ on the couch just chillin’ in my snuggie
Flip to MTV so they can teach me how to Dougie
‘Cause in my castle I’m the freakin’ man

Yes I said it
I said it
I said it ’cause I can

Nothing at all
Nothing at all
Tomorrow I’ll wake up do some p90x
Meet a really nice girl have some really nice sex
And she’s gonna scream out this is great

I might mess around and get my college degree
I bet my old man will be so proud of me
But sorry pops you’ll just have to wait

No I ain’t gonna comb my hair
‘Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere
No no no no no no no no no oh
I’ll just strut in my birthday suit
And let everything hang loose
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Nothing at all
Nothing at all
Nothing at all’

Honestly this is being counter-productive, an antithesis of development. Funny enough they are the kind of individuals that would be having big and incredible dreams, unrealistic and worthy laughing about.

“Yaani ningepata millioni moja,”

“Ama mtu angenipea millioni moja tu. ”

“Si uhuru angesahau anisendia mita moja kwa Mpesa.”

These are the sort of dreams, the pipedreams that future in their personalities. Simply uncanny and lousy. This is like graft, intentional, and deliberately harmful to the economy.

With such sort of tune to begin your day, truly you are dead. It sets the temperament and tone of the day. Also you sing it, and sing, and sing and sing till the night comes. Despite everything you singing the languid tune. These are loose ends in positive wrappings or tidings, or whatever.

That is not my point. Many ladies have asked me why I am not married. Once I was and I didn’t like it. Whether it was come we stay kind of matrimony or legit no one really cares. The bottom line is that I didn’t like it. It was a cocoon with no cycles. It was a dungeon with only one cycle, trouble.

In my first year of college, much the same as whatever other chaotic and infamous children, I did foul up. School is about fun, in whichever portrayal it befits, and that is the manner by which effortlessly I could convey it. It was something like a sub-standard roller coaster that broke whenever, actually when you were at the crest of the ride, and came tumbling down savagely.

When you are new and guileless in school you can undoubtedly spoil things. Anyway the world will never excuse you; couldn’t care less how contrite you are. You discover that the world is not reasonable, it couldn’t care less on the off chance that you knew the standards or not, couldn’t care less whether you are unmindful of the principles in light of the fact that you have an issue, neglectful disorder or something.

I fell head over heels in love with her, so much that I could barely go any place without singing her sweet name. I sang it from bunk to class to shop even to the can (lavatory). Anyway I sang it more to cot than any place. It was a concentrated activity that would later befuddle my life some way or another. It is here that she got pregnant.

You know the way they do it. It is the point at which you scarcely expect it. And after that she comes, all got a hold of herself, looped and reserved, and afterward tells.

‘Justine we have to talk.’

All the months or years you have been together she has never said she needed to talk. I am a monstrosity. Totally I get aroused, curious kind of.

‘About what Jane?’

‘Just sit, we have to talk.’

‘About what?’


She can be sick and serious. This is new, totally new and you sit your ass down heart pulsating anomalous. She looks down for a moment and the up. Yeah, there it comes….

‘I am pregnant.’


‘I am pregnant Justine.’

‘Tell me you are joking, right?’

‘Do I seem as like I am clowning to you? I said I am pregnant and it is your pregnancy.’

‘My pregnancy? Like how truly mine! No, that can’t be mine.’

‘Now you are stating it is not yours, in the same way as I have been laying down with a pooch, isn’t that so? Like I simply got it profoundly. Justine I-am-pregnaaaaaaaant. What’s more it is yours.’

‘What! Where? Why? Thought you had this under control. You were not under the pill?’

‘No doubt I was, until you asked me not to utilize it any longer on the grounds that you thought it was making me fat you mongrel! You ought to have thought about that before you made a go at frolicking your small little stick on me.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘Uhh, what do we do? Is that what you are asking? What do you think Mr.? What do you think?’

‘Ahem, mmmmh. I can’t think straight. I can’t.’

‘Ooh, so now you can’t think straight. This bastard can’t think straight. What then would you be able to do? Tell me Justine, tell me.’

‘I don’t have the foggiest idea. This is excessively quick. I can’t think.’

‘Well. Better think quickly in light of the fact that you have a considerable measure of it to do.’

To begin with you consider abortion. Abortion is a wrongdoing however. Your pap is gonna execute you on the off chance that he knows you got this show on the road and some bitch’s got a ball. Don’t even specify your mom in light of the fact that she will simply beat the damnation outta you, and scare shit out of you till you lose your psyche.

Here you are, in your first semester and you can’t handle your tree well. You can’t handle it even for one more semester damn it. So what now!  You do not want to think about it, it is too horrifying and responsibilities are a heck. First year, no money, immature and scared to death.

So it transpired. Life took another turn, I had to transform and take care. Thank God abortion was out of the picture. Though a lot was yet to come.

It is here that I temporarily hitched. I sang ‘don’t you understand, I’m a married man’ melody each morning for very much a while. I don’t know whether I wedded for the privilege or wrong reasons, at any rate I did. I turned into a man, not like a gunslinger, yet a genuine family man.

I had these pre-heard bits of gossip about how pregnancy can turn one great heck of a lady to one gangsta whale of a lady. I was not prepared for a damnation of lady. I was readied of a heck of a decent pregnant lady. I learnt a considerable measure amid her pregnancy.

Amid her initial three months of pregnancy my one bedroom house was inhabitable. I turned into an adversary in my own home. Jane could throw up sometimes. In fact lot of times. Every time she set her eyes on me she promptly grabbed a bucket and sent her crap in there.

‘Bitch you are disgusting. I don’t want to see you in my house again.’ She would say. So I would turn to leave. ‘Where do you think you are going?’

‘You told me to leave bitch!’ I would reply.

‘Kindly stay,’ she would argue. Following 10 minutes she would again run now to the latrine. When she turns out I couldn’t stand her.

‘Get your butt out of my house you pointless man,’ she would be bubbling. I mean this is my fucking house. I do all the bills, I could retail merchandise to accommodate her and she smokes me out of my fucking home. Damn! I would get so frantic, go out and hung out with my boys. It was a damnation of lady now.

I could hardly differentiate whether all this was fake or crystal clear genuine. At the same time after the three first months her emotional episodes vanished all over sudden. Be that as it may, they were supplanted with fixation for other ladies’ children. She would house our neighbors’ children and attend them as though they were our own. I nourished other individuals’ children for three straight months.

Amid this period she would do nothing. I cleaned, wiped, pushed, pulled, scoured, and washed. In the event that she was not in other individuals’ homes she was in the living room viewing soap opera dramas from a lounge chair. She would watch and watch and watch till she dozed off. When she woke up once more, she could go for the remote and who knows how the damnation she knew all the soap TV stations as far and wide as possible.

Everybody knew she was pregnant, that was so self-evident. She made everybody, including ladies, feel like they have never been pregnant. It was like she was the only first lady to have ever contracted a pregnancy. She could stroll with arms akimbo, pushing her tummy forward and walking like a dead Volkswagen beetle automotive ascending the slope. Her pregnancy turned into the subject of each discussion she executed, whether you needed to listen or not. You had restricted decision not to.

What of her numerous demands? One day she requested that I take a seat with her. Furnished with a capable rundown of items to purchase, she began instructing me.

‘My child can’t simply consider a little cot, I need a cot from the market, a major one. My child won’t play with these old model toys akina nani have. My child won’t utilize these basins that look like warthogs, you will provide for me cash to purchase a computerized bathing basins (or whatever that meant). At last she had a financial plan of 200,000 shillings. She was demanding and super-sensitive. It is here that I learnt marriage was not simple. She made a million arrangements for the child way prior.

‘I as of now have a name for my child. I will call him Barrack Obama, I need him to be extraordinary. What do you think?’

Before I could even give a recommendation she forgot about me. What the fuck is going on? It is our child and I have all the legitimate rights to contribute towards his name search.

As time passed by I was terrified of going home. I was truly frightened to poo man. There was no peace, I couldn’t focus on anything, and the requests were too much. She would buzz me and say.

‘Bring to me 5 samosas, chips za 100, sausage tatu alafu utanunua kitu ya kukula. Also don’t late.’ She would hang up. I was out of picture, it was only her and what she needed. She was so egocentric and conceited, the most maverick being I ever seen. No doubt, I was terrified going home. So I would stay out late and return home prepared to rest. On occasion she would bolt me out.

One heck of a day something happened. I returned home at three minutes past midnight. The entryway was not blasted. I went in and there she was, all alone.

‘Where are you coming from Mzangila? Where have you been?’ I have never heard her call me Mzangila.

‘I asked where-were-you?  I called your boss and she told me you left at four, where have you been all that time? Are you cheating on me Mzangila? I hope not.’ Then my phone rings in the event, worsening the situation.

‘What bitch is that calling at this time of the night? Let me see. Give me that phone!’ so there she has it. Of course it is my sister who told me she would call when she gets home safely after we parted.

‘Who is Joy? Is this your whore? Have you been cheating on me Justine? Tell me Justine, is Joy your clandestine? Is she the reason why you come home so late? Have you been banging her? Who is she? Is she the skank that roams at your workplace?’ I did not breath, I didn’t have a chance to explain.

‘You smell of cheap perfume. I can sense it. So you thought since I am pregnant you can sleep around my back because I can’t sex you, right Justine? Don’t lie to me, you have been banging her, right?’ she was now right in front of me. Shaking her head, ranting and chanting, bitter and torn up. She was severely vulnerable and desperate. And I could see the tears forming from a distance. I didn’t care, I was not moved, and I was paranoid and impassive.

I stood there like a chauffeur, or like some damn driver. I was harassed like as if I was this surrogate husband, with less or nil rights of defending myself. I could not cry like a little bitch, because I wanted to think straight. I compared this like the true love saga- true love is like like a ghost, everyone talks about it but few have seen it. Marriage is lovely at the stranger’s eyes, when you are out you wanna get in and when you are in you pathetically want to get out.

‘Give me that telephone. Since when did you ever care to know that my elder sister, my boss, is called Joy? Do you even know how she looks in spite of the countless endeavors I have attempted to acquaint you with her? What do you even give a second thought? You think all that cash originates from my pocket? She wants the best for you but you are blind to see, you are too proud to even greet her whenever she comes around. You simply don’t care, yet you want me to care.’ And with that I walked out of the house to find some peace.

A couple of months later Elsie came to our life. I could barely review what happened to Barrack Obama, yet she was presumably gonna be a she- Barrack Obama.

The marriage didn’t survive, I had to study and balance my life with the kid. About her, that is another forgotten story. That is why I am not married yet. Thanks Maggie for asking. Hope I answered you sufficiently.

long live Elsie….I love you baby……………………

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