Writers never run out of content. Its just their minds lost in the process of creating their worlds. Sometimes, we are locked away into those worlds,where demi-gods  rule with the fist of imagination (you don’t wanna get stuck in that world without a pen)  I wrote this short story back in 2014. I found it today.  While I am still making more of these worlds, enjoy reading what my 20 year old was thinking. i didn’t feel the need to edit a single part, i would have written the same way if i was 20 years now.

Welcome to that…

What happened?!” she asked with a high pitched tone full of scare. The boy stood there, dumb. He didn’t even think of saying a word. A tear was the new mask on his face.To worsen the situation, he had a deep cut. His mother came and on his sight, adrenaline took over. Initially she was a lousy mother, commanding everyone around her to do the simplest tasks she could do by herself. The one who freaked out at his sight was the sister, Sebvenzia. From long, Sebvenzia and Kubasu were very intimate people. You could see them at a corner talking to each other in the lowest tones and probably, mimicking their mum for her lazy character. This time everything was different, Kubasu’s mum carried out the famous first aid. She took her ‘Leso’ (which was actually gotten from the campaign season a few months ago and had been washed only once), placed in salty water and squeezed against the boys deep cut. Immediately Kubasu let out the loudest and most hoarse scream. This explained that Kubasu was now growing into a man, leaving his little boyish voice and adapting a new manly one. He was at the verge of adolescence and it was evident from that hoarse squeal. Mama Sebvenzia was determined to clean his sons wound to the later. Yes, she really did that and maybe, Kubasu once again should say ‘thank you’.


Days went by as he was healing.Kubasu had become the center of focus both from his mother and his only sister.

“Kubasu what happened? You have never told me about the cause of your wound. Do you know you put me in worry for you? Please tell me brother, am your only sister and without you being open to me I will speculate more and more and keep hurting, do you want to see your sister crying always?” Sebvenzia stated with a very empathetic tone.

shaking his head,

“Sebvenzia you know me very well, I keep things that will hurt our family especially our mum who is very important to us.”

“Kubasu I am your family, share it out and let’s find a solution to whatever matter at hand.”

“Do you remember me showing you a man with a jungle hat long time ago?” Sebvenzia nodded with curiosity. “He is the cause of this wound sister.”

“What did he do to you Kubasu? Did he use any weapon?! Tell me exactly what he did to you?”

“My friends and I were out hunting in the forest, we were at the peak of having fun. Everything was going on pretty well. We had already killed two ‘sunguras’ and were on the chase for another when someone gripped me away from the rest. In my mind, I thought I had fallen maybe in a man hole but that was not the case. On looking up, it was this man.( Kubasu remembered how he suspected the man because he was always within his vicinity whenever he was playing, taking care of cattle, cutting firewood with his friends) the man was in a very scary facial expression and my friends hadn’t noticed my absence. Sebvenzia, I got scared for my life. I tried to battle him but he had a very strong arm and overpowered me. This injury came from that struggle, I hit my leg against his machete which as safely tacked under his pants. That is when he pushed me away and said to me that my mum was the cause of him following me always and he promised to come back for me then he vanished in the bushes just as I was about to ask him if who he was.”

Sebvenzia held Him strongly by the shoulder and said, ” We are alone in this world and we have to fight our way to survival, mum as you know isn’t able to do that for us and we understand her, our love for her is very strong and we must do our best to prove to her that we highly value her as our sole family. As for that man, as soon as you are healed, we will use all our means to get to him even if it means to go head on with him, we will do anything to come to terms with whatever his intentions were.” Kubasu felt life in him. The felt the zeal to live on and face the realities that comes into this world.


The life of this family was a mystery to many of those around them. Their mum had been settled in that village by a certain rich man who gave them a piece of land. She was still a young lady full of life. Looking very pretty and so much into herself.  This trait made her lonely and only worked hand to mouth. The farm she had was never cultivated and she became the topic of the village at most. This mysterious life was what carried the talk for a very longtime since they weren’t aware of the true identity of this mama. Many time mama Sebvenzia could always be on her own and if a friend is there, Its only her two children who again were rendered outcasts since they didn’t have someone to protect them as their father so this was their biggest mystery.


This is one of those families you want to hold down and ask a couple of questions regarding their whereabouts. But as it is for many people out there, they are just a bunch of survivors who are trying to make ends meet. So is the true definition of the new reality. No one is ready to know facts about the other. Traditionalists have turned to something else, maybe some self-centered rich men who have wealth and no heart. Maybe, some creation of the need for independence or a big story that we deny our families one member at the expense of the rest.


As Kubasu and Sebvenzia make a plan on how to tackle the current situation, keep tabs…..


Erick Ashihundu.



Life Tales; Wedding Tingz

How about another story?

Cool Friday. Everything is suave and wonderful (yes, I wake up some days and I feel wonderful). I happen to
have plans to crash a wedding. Yes, that is how crazy I can see things. Meanwhile first things first. I report at work and make up a few arrangements for AshuWear. Which included a shirt for one of the guys at the wedding (actually, he had planned to attend the wedding like a normal office day; please don’t dress that way on someone’s wedding. It’s a happy occasion not some everyday office time.) My plans are in place and off I am to the wedding.

As you would expect, I got there at thirty minutes into ten. The wedding hadn’t started so I get time to say hi and catch up with a few hominids (they are just a bunch of good guys who keep my some of my weekends on the high note). As we would put it the event was colorful but what I would highlight was the music. I hadn’t pictured the Worship Team had such sweet heavenly sounds in them. I won’t forget the instrumentalists, the drum guy particularly. He played with some extra appetite. I would see the stick rolling in the air creating a helicopter-ish feel as he hit the hi-hat (the other day I tried that and almost dropped a beat. But trust me I will get it, soon). The pianist was something close to Mr. Keys, (if he actually exists). He hit some soft notes that if you were the lead you would end up in heaven and lead the entire flock with you. To say the least, the wife-to-be of the day had everything to love about this wedding.

The most valuable part was closed. Someone was pronounced husband and wife and as the tale goes, the mafisi Sacco had lost a potential member and a meal too (it sounded better in my head). Oh by the way, the presiding pastor (or bishop, honestly I confuse the two.) was some cool guy who never asked if there was anyone against the wedding. Actually I agreed with his when he dismissed such ideas. I mean, where were you earlier? And for what reason would you want to spoil an elegant wedding (I read a senior guy’s post that well planned weddings are a show of extravagance, I wonder why would he have such a ‘mean view of things.)

A few photo shoots at the venue then guys leave for the reception. This is where socialism meets morality. You may not control who will dance how but you may have to control yourself. But then it comes into your mind that it’s a wedding and it’s a happy thingy, so just get into the mood and party all the way to heaven. That is how I ended up in safari park along Thika road. The ambiance and serenity of that place was one hell of a ride. If you heard of guys who paid hundreds of thousands for that venue trust me, they deserve the treat, especially in the borough jungle where tranquility is a story told in blogs.

For hors d’oeuvre we served some green soup (I haven’t cracked the name yet). They said it was a sneak preview of what was coming (well, it was beyond a preview and the coming was *insert the Whatsapp emojis with one eye closed and tongue out*). Nothing was further from the truth. This is where I saw this girl. Habitually stories go around of guys meeting girls at wedding and a resemblance is that both know the bride of the groom in some way. Today it’s a different twist. I know the newlyweds from church but this girl is a caterer employed by safari park (well, that is my assumption). She had dressed in some black and white uniform which made me realize that girls in uniform have some mystery in them only they can understand. She is the one who served me with the soup. So with my witty (or is it stupid) ideas I decide to ask her, “Does this soup contain some pieces of meat?” well I didn’t get an answer from her.

I think this lady was assigned to table fifteen. So she was wholly close to my vicinity. She is one dark lady with that African aspect in her. From my angle she didn’t have any make up( I happen to be a natural junkie.), her eyes were glittering from her sockets with a plate full of humility and kindness as the main course and love for dessert. The more I looked into her eyes the more I wanted to talk to her. I am among those guys who aren’t good with first times. So I curved myself back into the shell and acted as if nothing is going on in my mind.

As one of my weaknesses, any good music makes me forget myself so I end up dancing. At any wedding there is this line guys make as they dance along to traditional tunes. Mostly it’s for mamas, girls and young men. So being in the category of young men I had the best of me going in. The music was some live vocals and a background of traditional instrumentals. The feel was that of Kayamba Africa. The voices were well trained. (Well, you know that if a guy who can sing an Akamba song, the key is always high.)

Enough with the dancing. The speeches were on point. By that I mean the advice you would read in Google can never be delivered as perfect as from mature and well experienced groans in the field of marriage (That word scares me). Yes, that’s the point of a speech, to attach a particular emotion (not like whew hats app emojis), a particular voice variation and on a lighter note, a dance move that even David himself might have a hard time practicing. Yes, that which you can only do with your two left feet and hands akimbo (sounds Scottish but at least they got a right and left.)

You see, the table fifteen girl is still here. And I have this peculiar thing in my head. I want to hear her talk again so as she is collecting the plates I pop the quiz,

”So what’s your good name?” I think my facial expression was overdone at this point. Weird me.

“Tracy.” her voice was one of those mishmashes of some classical solo and an African beat.(by the way is there any classical with afro fusion in it?)

“Nice name…and thanks for the good work.” The truth is, I am trying to hold a conversation with someone who is working. My bad.

“Anytime Sir.” Oh God!! That was how the story ended. Please, never make a conversation with someone who is busy working. Chances are you will end up hanging or ruin their work.

The wedding came to a close and as usual, the guys and girls (including me and some Mluya called Mash) joined into some purportedly salsa dance. Not that we were noble, but the ladies loved it. Oh and by the way, by this time no one did care who salsa-ing with whom is. That is always a story for another day.


As we were leaving the atmosphere of safari park, I decided to put out my confession to our youth patron, Mr. Kim (yeah he has a cool name).

“You see that girl,” as I am pointing at her direction, “is one of the most amazing ladies I have seen.”

Mr. Kim laughed it out and said nothing. (For the record sir, I am still waiting for your comment on that.)

As for me, her face is still in my head. I won’t go to safari park to look for her, but I will walk in these boulevards hoping one day I will see the same eyes again and hear the same voice again. And if I don’t, I will join the bandwagon of those who never united with their three hour crash on some other human. That is the beauty of life. Nobody can reckon all the steps and do exactly as the arithmetic in your head.blog art 20 may wedding tings.jpg

For the new couple…let it be another real happy ever after. Not the design of a Disney channel or a Telemundo (or is it Telenovela?) in the making.

p.s. There is a likelihood that you will ask why I am not talking about my wedding, don’t worry, I was told to take it slow (don’t ask who) so the best I can do is discern and tell stories.