Sometimes I wonder
If we’ll ever go to heaven
Id like to think so
The whole reason I live life so carelessly is cause Im relying on my afterlife

However I wonder
Monotony is not Man’s strong suit
And in heaven there will be plenty of that

And mankind likes a little change
Man will attack man cause of sheer boredom
Its terrifyingly easy to envision
Golden sceptered young men bored out of their minds with all the bowing and posturing
Pulling out celestial swords and killing each other over who bowed first.
World war Heaven chapter

I always envisioned angels as tall brown heavenly beings with wings and golden locks and harps. Girls are into that. Wont there be romance up there?

People strive for heaven all their lives.
And then what?


Lauryn Hill is playing in the background and Liz is in the back of the room singing along. I have Liz’s laptop so Im going to write. Lauryn Hill is speaking straight to my soul. I Love Lauryn’s voice because it is perfect. I love perfect things. I am a perfectionist. I love beautiful faces and perfect bodies. I love white smiles and hoarse sexy voices. Some people have pointed out that I could be bi sexual because I appreciate beautiful girls. Yes I shall stare at your ass because it is round and perky. I love my friend Vyanne’s boobs because hell, those twins almost caused a car crash. Jugular Carnage. Sorry Kelly Vyanne.. I had to do this.

I know it is not realistic to seek perfection. Perfection should be sought in flaws. I am mean to ugly people in my head. I am not being mean. My temperament should be for geniuses because only people with a three figure IQ should be this nitpicky. I don’t wake up in the morning and say “ Yo.. Im going to meet ugly people and deride them in my head.” That would mean I deliberately demean people. That would be evil. I may be a lot of things but deliberate I am not.

Well, that said, I would like you to take a minute and think about beauty as is. Beauty lays in the eyes of the beholder they say. And some people have more mutual beholders than the rest of us. But then there is unconventional beauty, the flow of music in synchronicity with your heartbeat, how some hours are more welcome than others because they are beautiful. I think 6:00 is a magic hour. The world is still gentle, new born. The dew is still on the ground but the sun is shyly peeking, her beautiful eyelashes illuminating her coral magnificence onto her friend, nature. There is also beauty in love. Look on someone you love when they are oblivious and see their facial expressions. The sleight of hand as they try to convince you to see things their way, the small wrinkles on their faces as they smile at something they are thinking, their fingers when they touch you how the dark skin under their fingernails contrasts so wonderfully with the rest of their hand. This is beauty.

There is more, there is beauty in words, how a word rolls around your tongue, how a book talks about your feelings so perfectly that you use the quote because your words fall short of what you feel. There is beauty in nature although that has become a cliché.. Everyone claims to see beauty in nature yet they only talk about the green of the grass or of foliage. No… look further, look inward, what does your heart make you see. My heart says trees are lavender because they are tall and gentle. Does grass look green to you? Not for me, grass is brown like the soil it comes from, caramel and chocolate spears, saluting you as you go about your business. That is beauty.

I didn’t mean to drift off into a wordsworthy blog but I feel like you needed an insight into how I see life.

Frost In October

Im not asking to be understood.

Been there, done that.

Humans are warm, slightly fuzzy creatures

They live in furnished caves of their own making.

they sometimes fight for them. And much more.

Repenting to a human is a slow painful process where he wins and you sort of find penance.

Earth is Purgatory.

Ive lived. Seen 21 Octobers. Ive loved.

Ive fucked. men have sown oats at my threshold.

I do not regret a single decision because all our footsteps make us who we are in the end.

I see people getting things. Losing and gaining more.

I see people love each other with murderous passion

I see people die.

And all I really want is to get so much pain that my body processes it into wisdom.

Pain is not hurtful.

Pain is not pain

Until you lose something so precious to you

That you feel torn to pieces and scattered to the ends of the world.

On the bright side

Those parts of you return.

Not all, but most.

And when they do

they have gathered character

so you are legion

a myriad of personality

that has facets for surviving all situations.

How I see life.

Most people do not know what they want. They hide behind, it is never that serious to hurt their best friends, they dump the men who love them, who they deserve, to follow their golden goose, who usually turns out to be a degenerate father with a service fee and a banquet of unheard of STDs to reward you for following your heart. They watch movies and ignore coursework, and in that very act, urinate on their fathers’ hard earned money as they laugh and hang out and basically become so hateful as they add more colour to mask the rot that they are carrying.

Then, surprise surprise, when they are in their late twenties they turn to God and tweet bible verses, as they plot on how to sleep with the pastor and keep the guitarist a delicious secret. When they do get married, it is to ugly sons of bitches that know that they are copulating with rot, and thus treat rot as rot.

And there, they go through life, angry, dissatisfied and completely fey when there was always a second option.I wont offer the option because I am not your bloody therapist. 

For the early bird.

A few blogs away, I argue that people can be who they want to be regardless of what they went through, or who their parents are.Today, I am paying tribute to the hard work of parents. My focus today is the single most important aspect in a man’s life. Women too, but man mostly.. A mother.

People do not get it into your delusive little minds that your prowess relies entirely upon your shoulders, or your girlfriend, or white sponsor cum sex buddy cum wife in the end cum..Okay, I stop I stop. White influence in Africa is a topic that rankles me deeply.

Anywaysssss…. My mother is the upright pole that my brother gravitates upon. (I used a stripper metaphor, hang me) He tells her everything, and the hypocrite that she is, she simply listens and does not judge. My brother once told her  a variation of a story I had told her earlier in the week, and while she chewed me out mapropsy for ndecent exposure and seduction techniques, she stayed pokerfaced through out the whole tale and even managed a titter at the end. Smh. Mothers.

I love my mother dont get me wrong, and even if you are Jack the ripper on steroids, you love yours t0o. That is the way of the world.And when we love someone, involuntarily or deliberately, we copy their mannerisms. We emulate their virtues and learn from their mistakes. That too is the way of the world. Therefore, it is impossible to say that a rotten mannered man has a sane mother.

Or that a man who is as selfish as the original Narcissus has a benevolent mother. People havent you gone through all of the sayings now? The apple doesnt fall very far from the tree. I always suspected that the tree they meant was never the man, rather the woman. The same thing goes for A chip off the old block. Forgive me for being crude but you came through her no? Doesnt that mean that the block.. okay okay…

Again, we consult the bible. Train up a child in the way they should grow… and etc. In your youth, especially as an African child, I can count the times you ran to your father with teary eyed gibberish that you expected him to decipher in order to learn why your knee was scraped. None. Or if your Dad was good once or twice. But your mom, oh your mom. “Mom, sylvie took the pen so Ed pushed the swing and I was on the merry go round” meant that you had gotten into a fight. And your mom always understood, always. She is always on your side too.

Therefore, as future parents, and as spoilt rotten adults,learn to fully comprehend just how much mothers played a role in your upbringing. And learn from it. We learn in steps. Once you understand just what she did to ensure that your future is this rosy, adopt that system. If she hurt you and stymied your trust in women, learn from that too.

This one is for the early birds. Learn from what grew you.

Harsh realities.

I have been watching for quite a long time and I think it is time. Ladies and Gentlemen, especially those on Twitter, this is my very loud TGE, RW version 1.33.

TGE is Tusaaba Gavumenti Etuyambe. It is a mockery of people who try to solve their issues in the laziest, most ineffective way. By asking for Gorvernment help. I am not saying the gorvernment is ineffective, I am saying, you really do not think it is a solver of Mundane affairs really .

But that is neither here nor there. My point here is the annoying number of people who have come to rely on NGOs to solve their lives for them in Rwanda.

Before you shoot me, consider this, I have done my research. 8 children in 15 are under NGO financing, the rest are under the parliament. Parents look at you with cow eyes when you ask them what happens after children finish high school. Most of them do not know the answer to that question. Do not get me wrong, a lot of families here live below the poverty line, but what about those who dont. What about the Teachers, Doctors, Clerks and the rest who can afford education? why do they insist on being helped?

Laziness. The down side to this well oiled gorvernment system is that people are not innovative, they do not think ahead and save because Guverinoma is always going to be there for them. Well I say bloody hell, STOP!

Most of the entrepreneurs I have seen have not asked for help, most of the stories say they faced overwhelming odds to get to where they are. NGOs are good and have bettered people’s lives, but now it is overkill. People have taken them for granted and now they are expected to go wipe asses as they are at the issue of solving problems.

If I had my way, I would ask NGOs to sponsor the lowest of the low, but also only up to a certain level. People should learn to shoulder their burdens.


A VERY POLITE OPEN LETTER. or what I would say in this case scenario.

My texts are usually raw. And unrefined. This one is going to be the same way. Sometimes we get carried off into the Lala land that is University and you wish so hard for something you almost become a sinner. I know we all have that one thing we crave so much we would probably steal it given the chance. For some it is your father’s windows phone, for others it is that hot babe that keeps bringing lunch for your workmate. I KNOW. I worked with some dude named Timo and he has this one particular babe that shows up with a hamper from his wife every lunch time. I kept thinking, dude, ignore your bitter berries, eye on the prize, mehn… Before the ladies eye me with distaste, let me describe her… she is someone that was sent to earth to make you feel inadequate and endowed with scraps that have fallen from the Lord’s table. No offence. Lol. You wondered why she was working as a house help. Even more shocking is the fact the wife is the one that brought her. I think, she pulled a komuntale on her marriage, but that is my opinion. 

Moving on, yeah, my secret pleasure, one that I stole quite frequently and with no remorse were those city boy candy balls that hung on a pole my father had in his study. They were for good performance, and going through church without sleeping for two sundays straight. My brother is a genius and my sister is a saint, so I never got to sample those spiky balls of goodness because I failed at the church sleeping part. So I stole. I still don’t regret it, mainly because I used to share it with my siblings as soon as I stole. And yes, it was from the goodness of my heart, not from a clever way of ensuring that I never got ratted on.

So anyway Mrs Kabaata, I would like to conclude this letter to you saying that I will steal your man, since as seen from above, I am quite generous with what I have stolen. And I go hard, because the more you fight this, the harder my charms will get until your man can only think of the eggplant vs Chicken example whenever he looks at you. Just give up. After you do, visit my facebook page, I keep quotes like “I am a strong woman who doesnt need a man” and “For an Independent woman, a good man is a bonus” handy. I am neither good nor independent so I need your man. Im sure you don’t mind. Thank you in advance.

I am sure you have never met a husband snatcher as nice as me. 

Ok Bye


A very broke campuser

Ps. I am not in love with him.