Boychild hangs himself

Mungu saidia hawa vijana wako.

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The weak must die for the strong to thrive. Good riddance


And the anus lickers must lick anus for their daily :bread:


More fresher oxygen.

Niaje atiriri modo wa nyoba.

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Mental sickness. We have to find away of dealing with this problem. Its getting seroius.


Recce guy who was in Dussit rescue mission also killed himself. It’s like they want to outdo femicide.

Is this a real disease? Mbona mababu zetu hawakuwa nayo?

They didn’t live in the rat race in a concrete jungle is why.

It’s an urban rigmarole. Nonsense monkey politics+money problems+tik tok-fueled lifestyles+a myriad zakayoist pressures+drugs and alcohol+basmati chefs+fare eating fake dates+crowded slum hovels+little blood sugar in the head+no water to drink=mental illness=death. And now somebody wants to add skyscrapers to the mix. Kenyans are brewing madness with every new law they make.

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We need strong people to fix the handshake. Good riddance

I think tumeanza kua weak

Mundu wa nyumba. Write it correctly like you did atiriri.

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No. Tumekuwa too busy doing nothing, to think. A worrying thought shot through my mind yesterday along the road near Multimedia University. Traffic was flowing smoothly towards Bomas, and I was anxious to get to an appointment, so I put a little more pressure on the pedal to get closer to the car in front. Just then, my friend, seated to my left cried out, pointing, “Thakwe!”
My right foot instantly swithed to the brake pedal, as a large, hairy, muscular beast dashed right across the road, zig- zagged between the speeding two-way traffic, and leaped onto the tufts of grass and bush to the right.
But those few seconds set us laughing. Its eyes were set furiously, teeth bared, ears laid back, shoulders hunched, muscles undulating frantically as though worked by pistons under the dark greenish black head fur, which bristled manacingly and glinted in the sun, arms and legs stretching and folding swiftly as it picked up ground in front and bounded–no, zoomed–past.
Such power and fury, such zest, such determination, to rush into the danger of spinning wheels! It was as though it had to cross the road just then, no matter what.
After the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber died down, the muscular fellow sauntered to a stop and sat down on the grass, now bored, glaring back at the humans, yawning and scratching.
That image reminded me of how the nation is behaving currently. We are rushing headlong into things and a future we don’t even understand. No one wants to listen, no one wants to think deeply about what is happening, but we aren’t stopping. We respect no one and nothing, not the laws we love making and changing almost daily, not the quiet wisdom of an older generation (“it’s a digital generation, what do they know!”); not even God. We have no time, we must rush. Collectively, we have created a society that’s inept at handling life, so it’s destroying itself.
Perhaps we should change our national symbol to a sprinting baboon with a short inscription: Thakwe!

PS: When we stopped laughing my friend explained that thakwe is Kikuyu for baboon, yaani sokwe kwa Kiswahili. Another one had an interesting description for a thakwe: “undeveloped man”.

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