Villarosa Kibandasky is far better...

By Wanja Kavengi

You get your paycheck and decide to treat yourself to lunch in a big, expensive restaurant. You’ve never been in such a restaurant before, but you are looking forward to having a great eating experience. You deserve it. You have successfully refrained from punching arseholes with an axe the entire month, so you deserve it. You’ve improved on self-control and tolerance, so you deserve it.

A waiter dressed better than you approaches you. You peruse the menu. You settle for grilled goat ribs, fries, soup and salad. The last time you ate meat was the Christmas of 2004, in the village, where the entire family had gathered and a goat had been slaughtered. Life became absolute garbage since then, and circumstances like abject poverty and debt forced you to become a vegetarian. You are about to break your secondary meat virginity. You are happy.

The price of your order is 2,100 shillings. According to your financial state, this is a helluva lot of money. You’ve never spent that much on lunch, but si you are pampering yourself? You are used to eating at a makeshift kibanda of a local food vendor. Her food is cheap, but she serves large quantities. You imagine that if you can eat enough food at her kibanda for just 50 shillings, then how much more can you have for 2,100 shillings in that restaurant? 2,100 shilings, you imagine, those are 50kgs of goat ribs. 80kgs of fries. 120kgs of salad. 35 litres of soup. Hei! That is a feast. A banquet. You even move to a bigger table, so that there can be enough space for all that food. You even text two or three of your friends, asking them to join you, that lunch is on you.

You see the waiter coming, carrying food on a small tray. Maybe they are taking the food to another customer, you think. Your food will be brought in a MAERSK shipping container, because it’s a lot. But no, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your lunch.

You glare at the atrocity in front of you.

You see 1 tiny rib. You see 3 thin slices of potatoes. You see a small drop of soup in a small cup. Your salad is a small piece of lettuce with the scent of lemon. Basically, you’ve been served the smell of goat ribs, the thought of fries, the idea of soup and the imagination of salad.

What kind of crookedness is that? What level of corruption is that?
Is there food rationing in these restaurants? Food shortage?


Armed robbers.


These large, expensive restaurants, they will serve you a microscopic lump of food on a big, wide plate, and then decorate it with one coriander leaf. My friend, that decorative coriander leaf will not stop me from seeing that you just served me two grains of rice and a dash of stew.

And then you are expected to pay an arm, a leg, and a kidney for tasting that food. Tasting, because you cannot really say you ate the food. You tasted it.


Vile homowebdev atasema


sadness of life

@uwesmake, is this what they do to you at Sangara? Ama huwa unaongezwa “sosa”?


@Chloe the quality of the food. they have is something close to


Sasa Chloe. Si nikuchokoze kidogo kama sasa manyang’au wanaNurse maHangovers.


Mimi hupatana na mabuda wamenyonga tai kwa chuom fulani ya kibada…kumbe ni hii stori huwa wana avoid…kukosa kushiba na umepay dearly …


hao ma-buda wamenyonga tai huwa MA sufferer,


Next time ask to be served by a guy from Western. They never disappoint. Wanajua chakula sio kitu ya kuchezea


boss 2100 kama unataka nyama enda Fogo Gaucho in westi. resturant ya mbirrioneas. utawekewa nyama ukule hadi wewe mwenyewe usallenda. ni kama canivore but nyama zao ni variety mob and way better. utawekewa nyama mob kushinda kibanda na ni high end resturant.

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Ile siku utaelewa how money works, utajua umuhimu wa kibanda.

I love this Wanja lady.

The hunger you leave with is perfect and the emptiness of your wallet absolute. Why should a Tusker Malt cost 500 bob na hakuna extra ingredients?


Watu wa “kìrathi” huumia sana kwa hii maisha

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@Chloe you sound so posh hukai mtu wa kibandasky. Kuja nikupeleke Spurs, for 2k a person utakula 300g steak, 600g pork, chips and milk shake. Ukimaliza unaweza kunikamua and thank me later.

Hunger Comes From Your Mind , Not Just Your Stomach there is no need to take huge ammounts of food

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Huyu wanja kavengi huwa nani ,i only follow her post but have no idea who exactly she is??

Her articles leave me in stitches
Kama hii
Dear Coca-Cola,

Those people in your ads, the way they grab a bottle of Coca Cola from a cooler filled with ice cubes, the way they open the bottle and drink continuously, as if they have the thirst of a thousand camels in the Namib desert. They drink continuously from the bottle with their faces slightly upwards, eyes closed passionately, throats moving softly as they swallow, then pause to look at the bottle of Coca Cola with a loving smile, and then they wipe off drops of water from the Coca Cola label with their thumb.

Well, I went to a shop and asked for a cold Coke. The way I was thirsty, I would drink the Coke as if I was shooting a Coca Cola ad. I would drink it as if I were drinking water after a vigorous workout at the gym. I sat down on a wooden bench outside the shop. I opened the bottle dramatically, as if I was being filmed for the best Coca Cola ad of the century. Even before the bottle top fell down, the mouth of the bottle was in mine. I tried drinking it continuously (like in those ads) but I immediately felt some of the beverage foam and rise into my maxillary sinuses, and so some of it sprayed out from my nose while I choked on the rest of it. I coughed out my lungs. I coughed out my soul. My entire respiratory system was in distress. My heart was collapsing. Watery, bloodshot eyes. Wet, flaring nostrils. Trembling body. My entire face, my shirt, and my laps were soaked in Coke, saliva, mucus and tears. I had seen death. I had caught a glimpse of my tomb. That was attempted murder. An assassination attempt. A serious threat on my life.

Chei! You Coca Cola liars. Lucifer is soaking the firewood that will consume you in 900,123,567,679,000 litres of chlorine triflouride.


I swear you ain’t supposed to be pink handled