Meet Mugo wa Wairimu: The doctor who used to rape corpse's is now raping his clients

system · September 7, 2015, 2:55pm

uuum ok

system · September 7, 2015, 2:56pm

uuum ok

system · September 7, 2015, 7:22pm

:eek:

panktcha · September 7, 2015, 8:48pm

[FONT=Arial]
[SIZE=5]Five Shades Of Mugo Wa Wairimu[/SIZE]

It would be a lie if I say the demons that are currently chasing up Mugo Wa Wairimu came to me as anything shocking. I had caught something in his rather contrasting personalities that raised hairs in my subconscious. Somewhere at the base of my gut I felt something of this sort was creeping into the light.

I will tell you something that you probably didn’t know about this man.

Mugo will remain as one of those characters that in real life differ strikingly to the common impression they manage to exhibit in their social media pages. He is a notable prick in social media, and it’s here that he cuts himself a controversial figure that attracts both hate and admiration in equal measure. He manage to portray himself here as this ruddy bulldog, a TNA bulwark, a social justice advocate, and a vicious attack dog that would tear the opposition even at the expense of shedding his own blood.

That vicious arrogant façade of ‘mzalendo mtetezi’ is what most people in the social media knew of him. But the private Mugo, a gynaecologist according to the media, operating an illicit clinic in the honky tonky suburbs of Githurai, is a totally different person altogether.

Something closer home would describe him as a person with a twisted( read split) personality. For the private Mugo is a complete contrast to the man we know in social media. It’s this quiet private façade that I came to ingratiate myself with a few months back.

I met him about two months ago. A dentist friend had asked me to accompany him go check out a Dental unit a doctor friend had just set up in his Githurai 44 clinic. My friend had ambitions of setting up a private practice and he needed ropes here and there to propel him in that direction. It chanced that this doctor in Githurai had a complete dental unit but had no doctor to work in it so far. My guy would be a fit.

My friend knew all the brouhaha that surrounded this doctor. He knew of all his shades. The social media ninja and the quiet private Mugo. I on the other hand was completely clueless.

The Clinic, Prestige Healthcare, is located at the heart of Githurai 44, about 50 m off the main stage. It is stuck between residential apartments in a rather haggard neighborhood. The small road that leads to it is dusty with trenches of sewer on either side.

A small door leads to a tiny dimly lit lobby. There is a small reception desk and behind it inches high on the wall is a 42’ TV that streams nothing but flickering images of distressed channels. A door that is constantly under lock and key leads away from the lobby to the wards and consultation rooms.

We are ushered to the doctor’s room by a light skinned woman of about 28 who I suspected was the assistant of many sorts.

I find a calm, pale man of about 40 behind a small desk in a crumpled office. The office would have been larger, but most of the space was occupied by stacks upon stacks of boxes filled with what I believed to be pharmaceuticals. I suspected the office doubled up as a drugstore.

He extends small fragile hands for a feeble handshake. I notice our doctor had great trouble maintaining eye contact throughout the whole time.

We sank on our seats and before he even opens his mouth a sweet whiff of well matured whiskey smothers my senses making me thirsty all of a sudden. I notice other things too. A couple of opium based analgesics lie on his table; Quite a number. His hands are not steady, he itches his arms constantly.

After introductions( I told him I am a colleague of the friend I was with) we talked about a hundred things. Mostly about the new dental unit and how my friend will fit in. In between this I notice his phone is almost constantly ringing. He ignores some, others he text back but hardly picks any in our presence. Few workers pops in now and then and I notice they seem to have a kindred sort of relationship. He talks softly and they seem to understand each other at a level that’s almost conspiratorial. From his quiet almost friendly demeanor, he strikes you as that boss you will have no problem telling your little private problems.

The receptionist walks in and leaves with my friend to the dental Unit. We are left alone.

“So you also a dentist?”

“No, technically I am a Nurse, I graduated with a nursing degree in UoN but I have never stepped in the hospitals since then.”

“Oh, so what do you do?” At this point I notice he gets visibly interested and even makes an attempt, albeit weak, at making an eye contact.

“I am in monitoring and evaluation with an NGO, doing HIV things.” I knew I was vague but I really didn’t care. For Christ sake the smell of good whiskey was all over my face. I couldn’t think straight answers.

He then opens up about himself. I learnt he did Nursing too, many years ago when University of Nairobi was introducing a bachelors degree in Nursing. That was in early 90s. He even revealed he schooled with three current Lecturers at the Faculty of Nursing UoN; Folks I know pretty well.

A patient is ushered in; a female of about thirty two. She feels uncomfortable about my presence but out doctor assures her that she was safer with me there. He tells her I was another doctor who had paid a courtesy call.

The patient has a lab request from another clinic, requesting for a stool analysis.

I don’t know what happened to Mugo and keeping eye contact with people. Not even a patient! I found this extremely odd in a profession where sometimes just looking at a patient’s eye is enough to make an important diagnosis. That’s why there are no blind doctors.

Instead, I noticed his eyes had found a different favorite spot. I saw his eyes stray furtively towards the woman’s thighs, gave them a quick survey before he settled them back on the lab request form.

“Tutahitaji choo kubwa. Inapatikana?”

The woman said it was unlikely to get that at the moment.

He called in a lab tech and directed him to lead the woman away for a sample. Whatever that is available is ok.

The time was about 5.30pm. I haven’t practiced these things for a while but I know stool samples for tests are hardly taken after midday unless the patient is threatening to die. Morning samples are fresher, and richer of the unsuspecting microbes. But I just watched as she was led to poop somewhere in a cup. The doctor knew better.

When I asked him how he ended up switching titles from Nurse to Doctor his answer was long and winded and completely lacked the specifics. Another whiff of whiskey hit my nose and I shrugged from my seat, ready to leave. I get easily distracted and I swear if I stayed there any extra minute I would be inclined to swoop under that table, grab the damn bottle and take a long one, not a swig, one long gush behind my dry throat.

He insists we need to meet again and talk business. Anytime Doc. We exchanged contacts and I leave. I find my friend waiting for me at the lobby and we step out.

“This doctor is shady, if not downright weird.” I tell him the moment we step out to the sour Githurai air.

“Ha ha. Tell me about it!”

“Was he high or what? Did you see way the way he was itching, the paleness? Man this nigga has issues.”

“Well, you just met Mugo Wa Wairimu!”

“What? That same Mugo wa FB? The noisy, arrogant, vicious anti Raila?”

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“But how? That man look so fragile and quiet. I don’t think he cares for anything in this world but his clinic and the bottle under his table!”

I was totally shocked. To place Mugo Wa Wairimu we know on social media and that weird doctor in his crumpled office side by side would draw such a distinctive parallel you will think the two come from opposite ends of the earth.

Shock was replaced by intrigue. I learnt the man spend all his days in the clinic. In fact he has a room there where he tucks in when he is either too tired or too high to stagger out. I wonder how he managed to hold such two distinct personalities in one frame. Human nature is confusing.

I dug around abit and rumours milling about him were ugly as hell. I heard of stories about how he sedates women and rape them. Heart wrenching allegations of how sometimes he ‘plants’ sickness in a patient and frauds them into paying more for treatment. Stories of how he pays the police to look away when victims report their ordeal. Shades, brother. Shades!

I met Mugo two weeks ago again in the very office. Not a thing had changed. The whiskey smell was stronger, opium based analgesics were still on the table. He still avoids eye contact, giving you an impression of a caged wounded animal. I tried to compare him to the loud, fire breathing dragon I know on Facebook but I still couldn’t. He remains reserved and calm and you are forced to even pity the little man. He looks like a man who spends his days and nights in a crowded county jail.

I think a man who is capable of masking such contrasting personalities in one innocent veil is just capable of anything.

The expose done last night on Citizen TV was something I believe was in the offing. What still baffles me is how the man is raising superior to the circumstance. Another shade of the same man. A different man in the similar situation would have pulled down his social media pages and gone under. However this man is so defiant that you kind of admire his stance. And in his rebellion, scores of his followers are pouring messages of support on his pages, hailing him as a martyr of social justice, man who is prosecuted for his strong convictions.

I sometimes think human beings are cartoons.

http://inmytales.co.ke/five-shades-of-mugo-wa-wairimu/
[/FONT]

Ice_Cube · September 8, 2015, 5:27am

panktcha:

[FONT=Arial][SIZE=5]Five Shades Of Mugo Wa Wairimu[/SIZE]

It would be a lie if I say the demons that are currently chasing up Mugo Wa Wairimu came to me as anything shocking. I had caught something in his rather contrasting personalities that raised hairs in my subconscious. Somewhere at the base of my gut I felt something of this sort was creeping into the light.

I will tell you something that you probably didn’t know about this man.

Mugo will remain as one of those characters that in real life differ strikingly to the common impression they manage to exhibit in their social media pages. He is a notable prick in social media, and it’s here that he cuts himself a controversial figure that attracts both hate and admiration in equal measure. He manage to portray himself here as this ruddy bulldog, a TNA bulwark, a social justice advocate, and a vicious attack dog that would tear the opposition even at the expense of shedding his own blood.

That vicious arrogant façade of ‘mzalendo mtetezi’ is what most people in the social media knew of him. But the private Mugo, a gynaecologist according to the media, operating an illicit clinic in the honky tonky suburbs of Githurai, is a totally different person altogether.

Something closer home would describe him as a person with a twisted( read split) personality. For the private Mugo is a complete contrast to the man we know in social media. It’s this quiet private façade that I came to ingratiate myself with a few months back.

I met him about two months ago. A dentist friend had asked me to accompany him go check out a Dental unit a doctor friend had just set up in his Githurai 44 clinic. My friend had ambitions of setting up a private practice and he needed ropes here and there to propel him in that direction. It chanced that this doctor in Githurai had a complete dental unit but had no doctor to work in it so far. My guy would be a fit.

My friend knew all the brouhaha that surrounded this doctor. He knew of all his shades. The social media ninja and the quiet private Mugo. I on the other hand was completely clueless.

The Clinic, Prestige Healthcare, is located at the heart of Githurai 44, about 50 m off the main stage. It is stuck between residential apartments in a rather haggard neighborhood. The small road that leads to it is dusty with trenches of sewer on either side.

A small door leads to a tiny dimly lit lobby. There is a small reception desk and behind it inches high on the wall is a 42’ TV that streams nothing but flickering images of distressed channels. A door that is constantly under lock and key leads away from the lobby to the wards and consultation rooms.

We are ushered to the doctor’s room by a light skinned woman of about 28 who I suspected was the assistant of many sorts.

I find a calm, pale man of about 40 behind a small desk in a crumpled office. The office would have been larger, but most of the space was occupied by stacks upon stacks of boxes filled with what I believed to be pharmaceuticals. I suspected the office doubled up as a drugstore.

He extends small fragile hands for a feeble handshake. I notice our doctor had great trouble maintaining eye contact throughout the whole time.

We sank on our seats and before he even opens his mouth a sweet whiff of well matured whiskey smothers my senses making me thirsty all of a sudden. I notice other things too. A couple of opium based analgesics lie on his table; Quite a number. His hands are not steady, he itches his arms constantly.

After introductions( I told him I am a colleague of the friend I was with) we talked about a hundred things. Mostly about the new dental unit and how my friend will fit in. In between this I notice his phone is almost constantly ringing. He ignores some, others he text back but hardly picks any in our presence. Few workers pops in now and then and I notice they seem to have a kindred sort of relationship. He talks softly and they seem to understand each other at a level that’s almost conspiratorial. From his quiet almost friendly demeanor, he strikes you as that boss you will have no problem telling your little private problems.

The receptionist walks in and leaves with my friend to the dental Unit. We are left alone.

“So you also a dentist?”

“No, technically I am a Nurse, I graduated with a nursing degree in UoN but I have never stepped in the hospitals since then.”

“Oh, so what do you do?” At this point I notice he gets visibly interested and even makes an attempt, albeit weak, at making an eye contact.

“I am in monitoring and evaluation with an NGO, doing HIV things.” I knew I was vague but I really didn’t care. For Christ sake the smell of good whiskey was all over my face. I couldn’t think straight answers.

He then opens up about himself. I learnt he did Nursing too, many years ago when University of Nairobi was introducing a bachelors degree in Nursing. That was in early 90s. He even revealed he schooled with three current Lecturers at the Faculty of Nursing UoN; Folks I know pretty well.

A patient is ushered in; a female of about thirty two. She feels uncomfortable about my presence but out doctor assures her that she was safer with me there. He tells her I was another doctor who had paid a courtesy call.

The patient has a lab request from another clinic, requesting for a stool analysis.

I don’t know what happened to Mugo and keeping eye contact with people. Not even a patient! I found this extremely odd in a profession where sometimes just looking at a patient’s eye is enough to make an important diagnosis. That’s why there are no blind doctors.

Instead, I noticed his eyes had found a different favorite spot. I saw his eyes stray furtively towards the woman’s thighs, gave them a quick survey before he settled them back on the lab request form.

“Tutahitaji choo kubwa. Inapatikana?”

The woman said it was unlikely to get that at the moment.

He called in a lab tech and directed him to lead the woman away for a sample. Whatever that is available is ok.

The time was about 5.30pm. I haven’t practiced these things for a while but I know stool samples for tests are hardly taken after midday unless the patient is threatening to die. Morning samples are fresher, and richer of the unsuspecting microbes. But I just watched as she was led to poop somewhere in a cup. The doctor knew better.

When I asked him how he ended up switching titles from Nurse to Doctor his answer was long and winded and completely lacked the specifics. Another whiff of whiskey hit my nose and I shrugged from my seat, ready to leave. I get easily distracted and I swear if I stayed there any extra minute I would be inclined to swoop under that table, grab the damn bottle and take a long one, not a swig, one long gush behind my dry throat.

He insists we need to meet again and talk business. Anytime Doc. We exchanged contacts and I leave. I find my friend waiting for me at the lobby and we step out.

“This doctor is shady, if not downright weird.” I tell him the moment we step out to the sour Githurai air.

“Ha ha. Tell me about it!”

“Was he high or what? Did you see way the way he was itching, the paleness? Man this nigga has issues.”

“Well, you just met Mugo Wa Wairimu!”

“What? That same Mugo wa FB? The noisy, arrogant, vicious anti Raila?”

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“But how? That man look so fragile and quiet. I don’t think he cares for anything in this world but his clinic and the bottle under his table!”

I was totally shocked. To place Mugo Wa Wairimu we know on social media and that weird doctor in his crumpled office side by side would draw such a distinctive parallel you will think the two come from opposite ends of the earth.

Shock was replaced by intrigue. I learnt the man spend all his days in the clinic. In fact he has a room there where he tucks in when he is either too tired or too high to stagger out. I wonder how he managed to hold such two distinct personalities in one frame. Human nature is confusing.

I dug around abit and rumours milling about him were ugly as hell. I heard of stories about how he sedates women and rape them. Heart wrenching allegations of how sometimes he ‘plants’ sickness in a patient and frauds them into paying more for treatment. Stories of how he pays the police to look away when victims report their ordeal. Shades, brother. Shades!

I met Mugo two weeks ago again in the very office. Not a thing had changed. The whiskey smell was stronger, opium based analgesics were still on the table. He still avoids eye contact, giving you an impression of a caged wounded animal. I tried to compare him to the loud, fire breathing dragon I know on Facebook but I still couldn’t. He remains reserved and calm and you are forced to even pity the little man. He looks like a man who spends his days and nights in a crowded county jail.

I think a man who is capable of masking such contrasting personalities in one innocent veil is just capable of anything.

The expose done last night on Citizen TV was something I believe was in the offing. What still baffles me is how the man is raising superior to the circumstance. Another shade of the same man. A different man in the similar situation would have pulled down his social media pages and gone under. However this man is so defiant that you kind of admire his stance. And in his rebellion, scores of his followers are pouring messages of support on his pages, hailing him as a martyr of social justice, man who is prosecuted for his strong convictions.

I sometimes think human beings are cartoons.

http://inmytales.co.ke/five-shades-of-mugo-wa-wairimu/ [/FONT]

kweli mujamaa ako na some deep underlying issues, pombe at times makes him post very personal information about his relationship with his wife over his daughter on FB. At one time he was blasting her for giving his daughter weetabix on Facebook

WuTang · September 8, 2015, 5:51am

:(:(:(. He is a twisted madafaka

system · September 8, 2015, 7:32am

panktcha:

[FONT=Arial][SIZE=5]Five Shades Of Mugo Wa Wairimu[/SIZE]

It would be a lie if I say the demons that are currently chasing up Mugo Wa Wairimu came to me as anything shocking. I had caught something in his rather contrasting personalities that raised hairs in my subconscious. Somewhere at the base of my gut I felt something of this sort was creeping into the light.

I will tell you something that you probably didn’t know about this man.

Mugo will remain as one of those characters that in real life differ strikingly to the common impression they manage to exhibit in their social media pages. He is a notable prick in social media, and it’s here that he cuts himself a controversial figure that attracts both hate and admiration in equal measure. He manage to portray himself here as this ruddy bulldog, a TNA bulwark, a social justice advocate, and a vicious attack dog that would tear the opposition even at the expense of shedding his own blood.

That vicious arrogant façade of ‘mzalendo mtetezi’ is what most people in the social media knew of him. But the private Mugo, a gynaecologist according to the media, operating an illicit clinic in the honky tonky suburbs of Githurai, is a totally different person altogether.

Something closer home would describe him as a person with a twisted( read split) personality. For the private Mugo is a complete contrast to the man we know in social media. It’s this quiet private façade that I came to ingratiate myself with a few months back.

I met him about two months ago. A dentist friend had asked me to accompany him go check out a Dental unit a doctor friend had just set up in his Githurai 44 clinic. My friend had ambitions of setting up a private practice and he needed ropes here and there to propel him in that direction. It chanced that this doctor in Githurai had a complete dental unit but had no doctor to work in it so far. My guy would be a fit.

My friend knew all the brouhaha that surrounded this doctor. He knew of all his shades. The social media ninja and the quiet private Mugo. I on the other hand was completely clueless.

The Clinic, Prestige Healthcare, is located at the heart of Githurai 44, about 50 m off the main stage. It is stuck between residential apartments in a rather haggard neighborhood. The small road that leads to it is dusty with trenches of sewer on either side.

A small door leads to a tiny dimly lit lobby. There is a small reception desk and behind it inches high on the wall is a 42’ TV that streams nothing but flickering images of distressed channels. A door that is constantly under lock and key leads away from the lobby to the wards and consultation rooms.

We are ushered to the doctor’s room by a light skinned woman of about 28 who I suspected was the assistant of many sorts.

I find a calm, pale man of about 40 behind a small desk in a crumpled office. The office would have been larger, but most of the space was occupied by stacks upon stacks of boxes filled with what I believed to be pharmaceuticals. I suspected the office doubled up as a drugstore.

He extends small fragile hands for a feeble handshake. I notice our doctor had great trouble maintaining eye contact throughout the whole time.

We sank on our seats and before he even opens his mouth a sweet whiff of well matured whiskey smothers my senses making me thirsty all of a sudden. I notice other things too. A couple of opium based analgesics lie on his table; Quite a number. His hands are not steady, he itches his arms constantly.

After introductions( I told him I am a colleague of the friend I was with) we talked about a hundred things. Mostly about the new dental unit and how my friend will fit in. In between this I notice his phone is almost constantly ringing. He ignores some, others he text back but hardly picks any in our presence. Few workers pops in now and then and I notice they seem to have a kindred sort of relationship. He talks softly and they seem to understand each other at a level that’s almost conspiratorial. From his quiet almost friendly demeanor, he strikes you as that boss you will have no problem telling your little private problems.

The receptionist walks in and leaves with my friend to the dental Unit. We are left alone.

“So you also a dentist?”

“No, technically I am a Nurse, I graduated with a nursing degree in UoN but I have never stepped in the hospitals since then.”

“Oh, so what do you do?” At this point I notice he gets visibly interested and even makes an attempt, albeit weak, at making an eye contact.

“I am in monitoring and evaluation with an NGO, doing HIV things.” I knew I was vague but I really didn’t care. For Christ sake the smell of good whiskey was all over my face. I couldn’t think straight answers.

He then opens up about himself. I learnt he did Nursing too, many years ago when University of Nairobi was introducing a bachelors degree in Nursing. That was in early 90s. He even revealed he schooled with three current Lecturers at the Faculty of Nursing UoN; Folks I know pretty well.

A patient is ushered in; a female of about thirty two. She feels uncomfortable about my presence but out doctor assures her that she was safer with me there. He tells her I was another doctor who had paid a courtesy call.

The patient has a lab request from another clinic, requesting for a stool analysis.

I don’t know what happened to Mugo and keeping eye contact with people. Not even a patient! I found this extremely odd in a profession where sometimes just looking at a patient’s eye is enough to make an important diagnosis. That’s why there are no blind doctors.

Instead, I noticed his eyes had found a different favorite spot. I saw his eyes stray furtively towards the woman’s thighs, gave them a quick survey before he settled them back on the lab request form.

“Tutahitaji choo kubwa. Inapatikana?”

The woman said it was unlikely to get that at the moment.

He called in a lab tech and directed him to lead the woman away for a sample. Whatever that is available is ok.

The time was about 5.30pm. I haven’t practiced these things for a while but I know stool samples for tests are hardly taken after midday unless the patient is threatening to die. Morning samples are fresher, and richer of the unsuspecting microbes. But I just watched as she was led to poop somewhere in a cup. The doctor knew better.

When I asked him how he ended up switching titles from Nurse to Doctor his answer was long and winded and completely lacked the specifics. Another whiff of whiskey hit my nose and I shrugged from my seat, ready to leave. I get easily distracted and I swear if I stayed there any extra minute I would be inclined to swoop under that table, grab the damn bottle and take a long one, not a swig, one long gush behind my dry throat.

He insists we need to meet again and talk business. Anytime Doc. We exchanged contacts and I leave. I find my friend waiting for me at the lobby and we step out.

“This doctor is shady, if not downright weird.” I tell him the moment we step out to the sour Githurai air.

“Ha ha. Tell me about it!”

“Was he high or what? Did you see way the way he was itching, the paleness? Man this nigga has issues.”

“Well, you just met Mugo Wa Wairimu!”

“What? That same Mugo wa FB? The noisy, arrogant, vicious anti Raila?”

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“But how? That man look so fragile and quiet. I don’t think he cares for anything in this world but his clinic and the bottle under his table!”

I was totally shocked. To place Mugo Wa Wairimu we know on social media and that weird doctor in his crumpled office side by side would draw such a distinctive parallel you will think the two come from opposite ends of the earth.

Shock was replaced by intrigue. I learnt the man spend all his days in the clinic. In fact he has a room there where he tucks in when he is either too tired or too high to stagger out. I wonder how he managed to hold such two distinct personalities in one frame. Human nature is confusing.

I dug around abit and rumours milling about him were ugly as hell. I heard of stories about how he sedates women and rape them. Heart wrenching allegations of how sometimes he ‘plants’ sickness in a patient and frauds them into paying more for treatment. Stories of how he pays the police to look away when victims report their ordeal. Shades, brother. Shades!

I met Mugo two weeks ago again in the very office. Not a thing had changed. The whiskey smell was stronger, opium based analgesics were still on the table. He still avoids eye contact, giving you an impression of a caged wounded animal. I tried to compare him to the loud, fire breathing dragon I know on Facebook but I still couldn’t. He remains reserved and calm and you are forced to even pity the little man. He looks like a man who spends his days and nights in a crowded county jail.

I think a man who is capable of masking such contrasting personalities in one innocent veil is just capable of anything.

The expose done last night on Citizen TV was something I believe was in the offing. What still baffles me is how the man is raising superior to the circumstance. Another shade of the same man. A different man in the similar situation would have pulled down his social media pages and gone under. However this man is so defiant that you kind of admire his stance. And in his rebellion, scores of his followers are pouring messages of support on his pages, hailing him as a martyr of social justice, man who is prosecuted for his strong convictions.

I sometimes think human beings are cartoons.

http://inmytales.co.ke/five-shades-of-mugo-wa-wairimu/ [/FONT]

Nice read!