Category Archives: Humour Stories
Stories of hilarious and ‘unfortunate’ events worth a good laugh
This is part two of the tiry journey to school one day…in case you didn’t read it you can get it here.
The day at school went well; despite the ‘Plague of the Not So Common Cold’ and the exploitation of ‘Route 86’ (those are stories for another day) and home time couldn’t have come sooner. I got my friend Mish (remember him from ‘the Princess and the frog?’) and we headed for the stage to get a matatu. It was around 5.30 in the evening. And as expected, the stage was flocked with a lot of people eager to get home; most of who were casual laborers at Industrial Area. They didn’t have much money so they either decided to wait for cheaper matatus or bar anyone from entering any matatu that charge ten shillings above the normal fare of 20 bob. And when the cheap matatu arrived you either join the very intense battle of getting in or stand aside; lest these hefty men maraud you over. It almost happened to a friend of mine Kerry; he’s like Peter Crouch of the England team only shorter. Luckily we helped him get in. Anyway, we were not in a mood for a scramble so we opted to walk ahead, way ahead where some passengers would alight and we would get in for reduced fare.
But just as we were leaving the stage, there was a bit of commotion between two touts as one wanted to reduce the fare and one threatened to beat him up if he did. And the casual laborers ‘cheered’ on in anticipation of a reduced fare. It didn’t take long before the fight started; we were in South B but the rules of fighting in Ngummo still applied because they were Route 33 Ngumo matatus. The rules were two: the first being no one is to try peacemaking while fight went on, or the people fighting will turn on you instead. The second is silence should be observed and commenting is to be done only afterwards. And so we tarried a little, watching them knock the lights out of each other.
Unfortunately, the tout with the cheaper fare won. Yes, unfortunately. For now the tout who wanted to charge more will be laughed at and elicit very very crude comments from the laborers, no matter how red he was with blood; or rather how brown he was with dust. And so as the victorious tout resumed his job we managed to get seats as others fought to enter the matatu.
Funnily enough, we enjoyed the ride, mainly because people from Kibera usually take the most trivial of things and have a forum about it. Almost everyone was commenting on the fight an befriended the tout, telling him ‘Good job. You da man!’ Others gave him pointers on how to fight better next time as the whole matatu laughed the incident off. I call it the Wanjiku effect. Even the tout could afford a smile, with a bruised lip. But that smile was shortlived.
As we approached the final accent to home, the matatu seemed to weaken considerably. It could not climb the hill. “Yes!!” Im sure people said in the hearts. It is somewhat known that people who board Ngummo matatus pray for them to break down midway the journey so that they would get a refund and walk the rest of the way. The matatus were weak anyway, and so this one choked…real hard and stopped.
“Haiya, pesa zetu basi” Translation: ‘Alright, refund please.’ And the tout was no longer their (our) friend as he had to refund us half of the 20 bob we gave him. Sadly. Though most of the passengers could alight and get home before the accent, most wait to see if the matatu will break down so they get some extra cash [that they need so badly] and prefer using the long route, by alighting at the terminus.
I felt bad for the tout, he fought hard for the people to pay less; well, they did pay less, though much less than he had in mind. And the previously friendly laborers left him and his driver reeling in his own loss…with a broke down matatu and a cut lip.
Just another day in Ngumo..
*’Kakkoi no Otou-chan’ is a Japanese translation of ‘Cool Dad’
*Disclaimer: The story may be 85% correct coz its what I heard and intel in Ngummo is somewhat trustworthy
It shouldn’t surprise you I remember my [late] father by his birthday (2nd May) rather than his day of demise. Let’s just say that’s me and that’s a topic for another day. And yep! Unlike most of you (:p) I had a cool dad. You know, the type that didn’t wear suits much, could hang out with your friends, anawagotea*, loved fun stuff and loved people. He had the nickname ‘Boxer’ ; ok, he was a boxer and did very well I must say; and he loved mock fights with me and my pals. I could say he was ‘burning with the flame of youth.’ He also had a habit of giving me unprecedented nicknames then strech my cheeks to make me smile when I started frowning. He had one lame joke, hmm…I think it was about a mosquito in France with a wooden leg…something something..we always put him off before he could finish so I still don’t know the answer, sadly. *Sigh* and he also had the habit of starting stories halfway…”And the elephant came!” ???
Particularly I remember one funny incident that happened quite sometime back. The details are a little bit sketchy so I’ll tell them to the best of my knowledge. One Sunday afternoon, my dad and my sister were coming home when apparently one of the estate boys lets out a comment that no one in their right mind would, especially if you were not strong and can’t run away from danger. Seriously, how do you call a woman’ fat’ in front of her own father?! Deathwish, perhaps? Anyway, so the guy manages to let out the word ‘fat’ accompanied by a small giggle. My sister glances back and then ignores the comment, like nothing happened. Strong lady Anne Orwa is, but that didn’t matter. I think I could say ‘the lion in my dad awoke’ and he turned to the retard. Silence. And to everyone’s surprise, the old man starts chasing this 21 year old.
Chasing! Believe it! He ran towards him and they went for a lap round the estate. A fifty something year old man against a 21 year old. That I can confirm because from the house you could hear his wailings and pleas of forgiveness. And they were loud and babyish so I came out to have a look. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to have pity but the estate was at a standstill as my dad caught up with the young lad and pinned him to the ground. “Sorry! Sorry!” I could hear the boy cry as my dad hit him with [dreaded] punches. After he had satisfied his boiling blood, he let him go and told him to run. He ‘happily agreed’ and sped by me and my other two bros, Ken and Josh, still wailing like a mad man. Then my dad just strolled home (my sis was long in the house) as if nothing happened.
Well, that was Peter Orwa for you. Just another day in the Orwa Household!
*Matatu – a van used for public transport.
Based on a true story,….most of it.
You know, we had a van once..a Toyota Town Ace to be particular; I think it was a ’97. It had the nickname ‘bushbaby’; I dont know why but it did sound like an animal; a hyena. It saved our skin very many times, because it could tell you when it was coming. It would squeak and giggle; it choked once, and its aubidle from 200 metres. That way we could turn off the TV and resume our homework before the old man walked in. We were never caught thanks to it, and so we almost cried when it was sold.
That’s just one of the many unroadworthy vehicles to ‘drive’ the roads of Ngumo. *sigh* the Route No. 33. I was once told that they were ‘miracle mats’ – *matatus, that were once written off and given a second chance on the road. I was really late one day on my way to school, and there was no time to choose a decent matatu. And the first one I see is being harassed by the police for he is blocking the road. The club is really poking his head but he cant seem to get the van out of the way. I move closer and I hear him saying , “lakini afuande hii gari hainanga reverse…” Thats to say, “But officer, this vehicle has no reverse…” ??? I’d heard of them once, never saw them actually but I was surprised they existed. A car with no reverse.
I boarded the next one. At least it looked like it could reverse. I squeezed my long legs between the rows of seats and stretched my hand out to open the window before a gust of wind stopped me. The window was wide open – rather it wasn’t there. I maintained my composure and as the vehicle started to move, rather noisily and jerkily – if I may say. I later understood that the van’s first gear wasn’t too well, so he had to jump it to second. And this matatu needed no speed governor (a law in Kenya); that would be the same as putting a ‘No runnning’ sign in a Veterans’ Home. Pointless
Then we went down a hill, and the back part of the van was really wobbling; the back left wheel was just in place – and it was threatening to get away. But what surprised me most is how the driver switched off the matatu not to save fuel, but to prevent the engine from overheating…I believed him; for it once happended. The cap of the radiator gave way and steam was released into the front part of the van. And the driver was the first to jump out. I lived.
About 700m from my destination, we were met by a major snarlup. Usually I would alight and start walking but I’m not really the enthusiastic type for school (no one is anyway) so I decided to wait. And the driver decides to overlap the cars ahead. Though, he kept pumping his foot on the clutch pedal; it would not engage. He depressed it like 15 times. And before we knew it it engaged and the van jerked forward. But the time to react before he could fully depress the pedal and stop our vehicle from hitting the one infront was too small. And so we shattered the backside of this nice Toyota Vitz; i felt for it, and the owner, a 40 something year old mother taking her (hot!) daughter to school and evidently had problems of her own, came out like the devil from your dreams breathing fire and brimstone. I couldn’t blame her; the monster inside her that was waiting to come out…that’s when I remembered the song Monster by Skillet and giggled…and their attention turned to me. Damn
And so I was forced to take a side in the predicament and nodded like a thousand times to whatever they were saying; I actually can’t remember because I was busy making eyes at this gorgeous, beautiful..*ahem*… I alighted and prodded to school, tired..and I was 30 minutes late. Good thing the ‘raia’ (mutual friends who came to know one other by being late) were there, amassing their numbers to bypass the teacher on duty by stampeding through the parade grounds. It’s usually a 98% success..good enough though. And so I was forced to do another troublesome task. The crowd of high schoolers sped by Mrs. Ogenya, making a great deal of noise. It was imperative that I get away unnoticed. And as soon as i reached class I put my head on my desk, with my arms to cushion it, just hoping that the day would pause for a while. I think they knew. I wanted to be one of them. The clouds. So free… I was exhausted on arrival..
It’s just another day in a 33.
Ok. For the first post, this is based on a true story. Happened in high school 🙂
Everyone remembers the story of the princess and the frog, how the princess kissed a frog and it turned into a handsome prince. But this story has a huge twist. You are about to figure out what happens when a princess, a prince and a frog coincidentally appear at the same time in front of an audience with a little help from my friends and their crude sense of humour.
Everyone loves drama. High school students like drama functions. So do frogs. Our school happened to host the Drama Festivals when I was in Form III and its usually attended by almost every school in Nairobi wanting to make a name for itself not only on stage, but also in terms of how they relate to girl schools (for boy schools) and how hot they can be (for girl schools). And the latter reason dominates the former, for which some teachers ‘forbid’ their students from being seen with other students of the opposite sex. But that didn’t really stop them (like it would!)
Anyway, all was normal – the usual ABCDEFG-and-vice-versa pattern (A Boy Can Do Everything For Girl and Girl Forget Everything Done & Catches Boy Again!) until a frog appeared in class. No one really knows where it came from maybe because it wasn’t really a concern being a boy school and all. No one cared, but they were about to. For some reason one of my pals (Mishael) suggested, “Majamaa tudendeni Jaymo!” (Guys, let’s play a prank on James!) James was one of those people who come from a rich home and really irritate you the whole day by just telling you what he has and you don’t. Apparently the mother is in the government so he kind of gets what he want (typical mama’s boy). I remember one day it rained so hard that his mother came looking for him until the classroom where she entered inside and literally pulled him out to take him home. Some people even exaggerated the whole thing saying that a flask of hot tea was in the car to warm him up. He was always a bit in his own heaven, and it was time to bring him back to earth, but he would have to take a detour through hell first.
The frog was grabbed in a cloth and put in his desk, but by 3pm we decided that things needed to be more ‘juicy’. There was no way it would give him a scare if he wasn’t even in class and besides, the audience for that ‘drama’ in class was way below quorum. It was then transferred to the inner pocket of his blazer, which was hanging on his chair. Not many people were in class as they were also seriously hitting on ladies outside, so it was easy for Byron to slip it in without much attention. James came for the blazer some minutes later, bragging about a fine girl he had met and wanted to look somewhat descent (yeah, right).
The original plan was just to scare him but not in front of the beautiful ladies. But it appeared that if he reached for his inner pocket while in the field , there would be more exciting drama than the one being acted in the school hall. I don’t know if anyone thought about rescuing James from the most embarrassing moment of his life (I did but changed my mind – he deserved it), but I doubt it because as soon as almost the whole class was in on the ‘saga’ there was that sadistic laugh that came out, almost like the one’s villains have. This was even better than expected!
The ‘lovebirds’ talked and talked, circling around the school a couple of times but James just did not reach for his pocket. We had to make a move because the anxiety was now too much to bear. We could not afford to ‘disappoint’ our ‘fans that were already in the field in large numbers. And that’s when one famous conversation breaker was implored, the Math question. Geoffrey walked up to him with a sheet of paper and a Math test. By this time they were at a green patch of grass in the field, which was abuzz with students of many schools socializing to the fullest. “Jaymo,” says Geoffrey, “I need your help with this math problem. It won’t take long, you being good in math and all.” Then the suspicious look on James face. Geoffrey was good at math, even better than him and besides, no one asks for help in math on a day like that one. “Oh, and she could help too right?” adds Geoff.
The reason Geoffrey used English (rarely used in school) was to try and convince James that it was just an act to pull the girl closer by showing how clever he was or the like. English was a way of saying “I’m serious about this” without actually saying it. “So you’re good at mathematics? Let’s see,” says Sheila with an extremely gorgeous smile that had the power to daze boys within a few feet (that’s exaggareted.) “Whatever!” goes James, as he reluctantly agrees and begins checking his pockets for a pen. He then instinctively makes a move for his inner right pocket.
When James pulled out his hand, it was covered in gooeyness, but he never had a handkerchief. Geoff bit his lower lip to suppress the laugh that was bottled up in his throat. James then takes a look inside his pocket and behold – an unconscious frog!
Ok, what happened next happened really fast and with the usual way of laughing loud with your eyes closed, I can’t remember much. All I remember is with one swift movement, the blazer was off his body and was suspended in the air for sometime as James dashed off screaming, leaving a confused lady behind. He shot across the field as over 500 students from schools around Nairobi looked on. He really looked like he had gone mad. At the same time my friends and I were laughing to the point we were literally lying on the ground. I think we looked stupid too but definitely not as retarded as James, at least when we filled the girl and some others in on what phenomenon had just taken place. Mish picked up the blazer and took it to class as the mission was a complete success!
We saw James after a solid two hours, when most schools had left. He had probably gone to bury his head somewhere while praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He of course lashed out – telling us we are childish and we will regret it and more blubbering which I can’t remember because for some reason we were all suppressing giggles until they exploded into full blown laughter. He walked away mumbling something we couldn’t make up.
Well, the next day he came to school with his mom who we hear said that James couldn’t eat the previous night and appeared to be far away with his tongue sticking out. However, only three people were called to the Dean’s office to answer to the frog case (not me of course!) Mish was told to dry clean the blazer and they were given some strokes only because the mom was there. Otherwise the Dean found it humorous and until I cleared school he had always commented on it whether while addressing issues on parade or when he brushed shoulders with Mish along the corridor. As for James it brought him down to earth for a little while but he changed again and we decided to let him be. Oh, and by the way Sheila and Mish are now very good friends (very true!).