What you need to know:
If you don’t understand who Kinyans are, let me tell you for free that it is better you speak less before them.
A Kinyan is a person who calls you what you are not and you get excited to tell him what can be used against you minutes later.
This is the very person who calls you a pilot because you are moving a house that has for legs over a death trap that is also called a road in Kinya.
Then, you get excited and confuse the mobile house for a metallic bird flying over Nyagenke airspace.
I will not feed you using a spoon for you to understand what is most likely to happen when you confuse a matatu for metals with wings.
Kinyans will call you Mwisimiwa just because you asked them to give you political legs or showed signs and symptoms of being their servant in the politricks arena.
These are the very mortals who make you see yourself in Parliament but when counting of votes happens you find it is only yours that is in the basket.
If you don’t know Kinyans, yet you have met people who call you ‘Omogambi ‘ aka Chief and you respond in the affirmative, then you don’t know the people you have been meeting.
I mean, why do you accept to be called what you are not?
If you are Omogambi, where’s your swagger stick?
You ‘Mogambi’ must be living in a world that does not exist.
Tell me, Chief, where is your area of jurisdiction found?
If you have met people who clap you for telling them things that don’t add up, then you have met Kinyans.
A Kinyan will clap you when you tell him that rain falls from heaven and trees have nothing to do with it.
If he doesn’t do that, he will clap when you laugh at Twangwatwanga or Kisieleweke.
He will call you a man of the people if you come in using a mettalic bird or a four legged house with the hinds of FeraSindiga to stand on a vehicle that has one leg to address Kinyans.
A Kinyan will go gaga if you rub your eye after every sentence while assuring him that Kinya will be a better place if you support MbiMbiYai, never mind if you understand the terms and conditions that would apply.
I’m talking of a country where everything snowballs into dynasties, hustlers, watermelons, Dvds and debate of reggae that is either strong or not to be stopped.
I have been talking about persons who cheered Man Zonko as he went for the rope and wound it round his political neck.
Man Zonko is that guy who has a PhD in throwing tantrums, insults and kicks while rolling on the tarmac and hitting concrete walls with bare fists.
Man Zonko is the retired sherrif of the city in traffic, he who whose mouth has the habit of losing brakes.
When Man Zonko is addressing Kinyans and making wild allegations in unprintable words, Kinyans say, “toboa!”
When he’s chained up, Man Zonko cries like a magnified baby as Kinyans watch from their living rooms.
But wait! If the men and women who are paid by Kinyans to beat them handled Ari Sababu and other terror gangs and vigilantes the same way they have handled the man who allegedly has a certificate of dancing with the angels, Kinya would be a small piece of paradise!
I mean, this energy can stop the men and women who have immersed their hands too deep into the public coffers and have left other Kinyans yawning while clapping to starvation.
Lakiniiiiiii! Mbona niendelee kutoboa, yet I know Kinyans will cheer me on now, then jump me 100 yards when Omwana Embombo comes to take a photo of herself and me, with metal bars separating the two of us?
My head has not grown cobwebs and the wisdom of the Nyagenkeans is telling me that although I have freedom to write, I don’t know when it will be withdrawn.
Na situonane?
-TheIdlerIsBack!
