Friday Heat: Should the groom foot the wedding bills alone or not?

I attended a wedding recently and was quite intrigued by the opulence of the occasion. From the decoration of the reception hall to the slew of gifts shared smelled wealth. The buffet was top class, the attire worn by both couple's family was classy and elegant to the boot. In fact, it was similar to a fairytale wedding.

Zulu Lulu by Amos Bwire...contd

"E yeah e yeah e yeah eh…e yeah eyeah…yeah
E yeah e yeah eh…e yeah eyeah
Mama meh eh eh eh eh …Nne meh eh eh eh eh…
She's my beautiful onyinye eh eh eh eh… Eyeah!"
 
Sings an obviously drunk guy, leaning over an idle Bajaj, near Afrika Sanaa bus stop. The guy has kiroba in his trembling hand. His name is Juma Mchupa, a Bajaj driver famously known for his overly-drinking habit and a foul mouth. "Oyaaa, chippy! 'Samaki' bei gani huyo?" He blurts, pointing his middle-finger at the rear side of one girl as she passes near his Bajaj.
Still locomotive, Eighteen years-old prostitute, Leila tilts her head slightly towards Juma Mchupa, trying hard to ignore him.
"Hey, if you were to cut off all dudes you've climbed on, and lay them down end to end; how far would your line go from here…Morogoro or Mwanza?"
Leila flips her lips over. She throws a hooker-stare at Juma Mchupa, whose mouth is stuck on to his packet of ethanol. "Depends on their sizes." She addresses him, sarcastically, her eyes measuring him, head to toe. "If all were like yours, I'd have needed a cargo-train full of them, to make it to where you stand from where I stand."
Juma chokes off a mouthful of alcohol. "Slut!"
A number of prostitutes and fellow Bajaj drivers laugh at him, their eyes following Leila, as she disappears towards Kona bar.
________________________
 
 
Stepping off Daladala, Lulu hastily sweeps past a number of people. A group of men; mostly petty traders, Bodaboda and Bajaj drivers blow mocking whistles at her physical endowments, obscene gestures along with that. She ignores them and goes further towards the direction near Club Ambiance where fellow traders spread in small groups.  
Just before she reaches the group, a vehicle stops besides her. The driver, a man in his early fifties, stares at Lulu lustfully.
"Niachie huyu mbabu(let me have this grandpa!)" A voice comes from behind her. It's Rabiyah, a fellow prostitute of Somali origin, "I know him. I know what he wants..." She whispers at Lulu, who nodes uninterestingly. Rabiyah strolls past, and towards the car. "Hey, baby, I'm here!" She speaks to the man behind the wheel. The man's eyes bulged. In a quick motion, he waves a hand, ushering for her to climb on. The girl jumps in and the vehicle drives away.
 
Lulu walks past Ambiance, and to a nearby open space that host a dozens of junkie' grills. She glances at people around the place. No one pays attention. She squeezes her hand between a massive pan of fries and a burning charcoal. She lights-on a rolled piece of paper. It's marijuana. She steps back and walks away quickly, before the infectious smell of fried chicken gets into her empty stomach. She finds a lone corner and starts getting a high.
 
"Oya vipi we mtoto, umeridhika leo, eeh?(are you satisfied today huh?)" It's Leila, walking towards the corner where Lulu is seated, immersed in a dark tunnel of thoughts.
"Mambo, Leila?" Speaks Lulu, forcing a smile that fades as quickly anyhow.
"Poa poa!" Says a cheerful Leila, her eyes hanging at the burning stuff in-between Lulu's thumb and index finger, with intense appetite.
Lulu handles it to her. "Just one puff, boo!"
Leila ignores the warning. She takes a long one, giving out a hissing sound and a sniff as her wide mouth blows out a thin white smoke. "You sick?" She asks carefreely. "If so, you better take your bad omen to the ghetto. Wagonjwa mnatuletea nuksi katika biashara…(You sick people do jinx our business!)"
Lulu ignores the naturally-impudent Leila. "You sound sick, Zulu Lulu..."
"I'm fine." Speaks Lulu, matter of fact. "I just feel for my sis, Mwajuma, She's suffering…"
"Eish! Is she still sick?"
"She coughs all the time! And today, since morning she hasn't eaten a thing. Whatever I brought her, she didn't like. I don't know what to do…"
"Mh, shughuli!!"
"And the landlady threatens to throw us out if I don't pay my rent, tomorrow…"
"Eish! Kazi unayo!" Says Leila, with a wryly smile. "So, will seating here bring you rent, stupid?"
"Watch your mouth, Leila!"
"Mh! Alaaafu, yule nae ana roho ya paka ujue! Hafi tu? (Mh! That girl has a soul of a cat! Why can't she just die?)"
Lulu gets agitated, "Hey! Stop saying that! Kuwa na huruma kidogo bwana!(You should feel for the sick!)"

"Eight years now in this business. I've seen many come, fall flat on their backs, die, and get to hell. Sembuse huyo Mwajuma wako? Asepe zake kule!(who is she to me?Nothing!)"

"Nipe jani langu! (Give me my leaf!)"
Leila gives Lulu her leaf, at the same time she pulls her off the pavement.

"It's almost One a.m. Twende-tukauze! (Let's go sell pussies!)"
_
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Zulu Lulu by Amos Bwire

This is for all 'Jezebel' lovers. The writer's ink is flowing again and this time, it's hotter, sexier and definitely better than anything you've ever read. Amos Bwire, my talented Tanzanian writer, in this masterpiece tells an intriguing story of love and betrayal in a socio-political setting. Trust me when I say this is definitely going to blow your mind and soul away. Enjoy!!!

Zulu Lulu (One)
September 2, 2011
She stares at her image through a cracky mirror.
A weak smile is drawn on her face overwhelmed by cheap makeups that are intended to give her an older, impressive persona.  Certainly knowing she could be innocently gorgeous without any of that, Lulu curses at the reflection. With a frown, she drops a stare at her wrist watch.
It's 10:45pm. She curses again impromptu, this time against a heavy rain that has been part of the day. Though now it's reduced to mere drizzles, the rain has left her dull-room mushy-mushy, with pools of water across abraded, eroded floor. Her earning potential for the night is also at stake. The rain makes it difficult for guys like her to prowl the streets and make a living.

Thoughts of a Bohemian: Think Africa

The future of Africa is no longer in any nation's hands. Excuse the cliché. The future of Africa is here and now. Africa doesn't belong to the world. The world belongs to Africa.

Through years of abuse and misuse the continent of Africa has consistently powered and sustained the world's economy. Check the catalogue of natural resources blessed Africa. Sadly this continent has been ravaged by its leaders through corruption, political misfits and unnecessary sectarian, tribal and to some extent,religious and cultural wars. These nomenclatures have polarised the geo-political economy of an enriched and endowed continent with a consumer populace of near one billion.

I am a firm advocate for a better Africa, a free enterprise continent which citizenry must benefit from their God given rich natural resources. To achieve these, the new Africans must be prepared to do what is just and right; part of which must include the execution of all corrupt African leaders and corrupt politicians that have knowingly benefited by misappropriating the wealth of the continent for their sole benefits.

I love the Jerry Rawlings Doctrine. Until then, God Save Africa from Africans.
Azuka Jebose
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT SEX

Contrary to the general belief that most married men engage in extra-marital affairs for sex, some married men said this is not actually true. "It's not all about the sex" said a male BBM contact of mine. "Sex could be a driving force but it's not what really leads the men astray." Majority of married women out there believe that sex is the main driving force that leads their husbands away from them. Well, it’s more than the sex.

Here are a few things that could make a man stray outside his marital home.

Friday Heat: New Year Resolutions: A Necessity or a Cliché?

Happy New Year everyone!

So it's a new year and a new beginning. Probably you've spent the past few days scribbling the do's and dont's of the New Year. Maybe quit smoking or dating sugar daddies, or probably stop cheating on your boyfriend. Or you may want to achieve some big dreams no matter how unrealistic they are. These all fall into your New Year resolutions.

It's exciting to make New Year resolutions, isn't it? Let's face it, the joy of stepping into a new year signify a new beginning. It's time to start afresh. To do something new. To achieve the impossible. To change from your past ways. Isn't it thrilling to be a new leaf in the New Year?

But how many of us actually stick to our New Year resolutions till the end of the year? How many of us actually pick up the worn-out paper at the end of the year to see how far we adhere to our resolutions?

Do we just make resolutions as a tradition or because we really want to make that change?
Is making of New Year resolutions a cliché or a necessity?


What do you think?
#TGIF#
Let the heat begin!!!
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Thoughts of a Bohemian: Letter to God... contd

Six months after Papa died, I returned home to begin burial passages for him. The family had kept my dad's death from our mother. I did not agree with this decision. I wanted them to inform her because if the shock of papa's death was going to end her life then, I needed for that to happen so I could bury them within days. But my family overruled my "western reality". They pleaded that there were hopes Mama Reggie would break from stroke and live normal again. I didn't want to dash their hopes, so I respected their wishes and queued into their game plan of keeping the news out of her ears.