Monday, July 30, 2007


After many months of turning down mainstream media interviews, this blogger agrees to talk to - Radio, Africa. This is why they didn't broadcast it.

“So what has blogging done for you, Potash?”asks the – Radio man.

We are sitting on the potholed concrete of a dimly lit staircase. I take a long drag on my ninth cigarette of the day mulling over his question.

It is 9 am. It is dark in here. The darkness that is the bane of these unplanned multi-stories. Out there it is dark too. The dark of an ovecast July- chilly and ugly- with no chance of lighting things up with a gaff two.

“You know,” I say to him, “...maybe I should go out on that street there and start a new game. Get all my boys together, we light up, and instead of competing on who will blow the best smoke rings,we try blow out plumes shaped like a middle finger.”

“Huh, flick a smoke birdie at a City Council by-law, you mean? Potash, man, are you some kind of rebel without a cause... an anarchist?”

“Nah, it is just a line for the blog, dude. Just another node on the Potashian myth creation sequence... like the fabled Dakimu... me building myself up as some kind of urban legend, you know...!”

“Oh, come on now,” he interrupts. “Talking to you does beg the question: does Potash believe in anything?”

“Of course he does. Potash believes that one day he will make a pile of lucre from his scribbles... Potash believes that one day America will be safe for the rest of the world...!”

“I am not sure you can say that on the – Radio.”

“Yes and you already said that I cannot say Fuck and Orgasm. So I am wondering what the FUCK I am meant to read out for the intellectual stimulation of your staid audience, from my blog. An excerpt from the King James Bible? Yes, so what about, '...and Onan used S- vagina to jerk off earning the wrath of Yahweh for spilling his seed'?”


“The Bible is one of my greatest influences, Mr. - Radio. I admire its rendering of history in code form; under a holy shroud of ambiguity.

I believe, for instance, that what later became called the Immaculate Conception was the first successful In Vitro Fertilisation in the history of man. Jesus was a test tube baby; in such a time and age, how would such a being escape deification?”

“Oh yeah... and Joseph was the Mad Scientist!”

“Gabriel, comes close actually. In the absence of poor Africans to conduct his unapproved experiment on, he chose a lowly carpenter, with an incredibly low sperm count to match probably, and his desperate-for-a-baby wife as guinea pigs.

Think about it this way: Gabriel was Isaac Newton, Mary's conceiving was through alchemistry and the angel of the lord was like an apple falling from a tree- an explanation Luddite contemporaries could live with!”

Okay Potash, this is not an interview for Da Vinci Radio, it is for – Radio, Africa, so just tell me what blogging has done for you and I can go file my story.”

“Man, blogging has got me custom laid. Because I blog, I have had my dick sucked by boys and girls of all races- from all places. I have heard wide eyed fans scream: 'Fuck me hard, Potash' in more tongues than at the UN General Assembly.”

“Seriously, Potash, a university don in the States taught excerpts from your blog, what does that mean?”

“Mean to who? As Wittgenstein once said, '...if Potash were to speak Midwest America wouldn't understand him!'”

“Good Lord. And rumour has it that you have jumped from blogs to deadwood...”

“Rumour has it!”

“No blook?”

“No blook.”


“Yes. Kwani? 4 and hopefully Farafina 11, this September.”

Kwani? is Kenyan, Farafina...?”


“Excellent. So in parting, what would you like to tell our listeners as they are bound to visit your blog?”

“The sexual activity portrayed here is that of a professional. Please don't try it at home (unless you are wearing a condom and lubricant!)

Thursday, July 19, 2007


If you are in the Northern Frontier District and you get a 'lift' into Nairobi in an Administration Police lorry, is that or is that not a deportation?

Who knows. All I know is that it happened to me.

So here I am in this city that, as I used to say in a seemingly far gone time, 'will not brook my penury.' But rumour has it that these days I live large. The truth though is that the only thing large is my ego. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.

But I try... I try. It is the only life I know!

So what happened up North? How did I get back to this city?

It all begins with my Probation Officer. An APB out... There are four OCPDs in this city who cannot sleep without knowing where I am. And fifteen CID officers; three chiefs and a contingent of APs.

“Hiyo kijana niliona yeye kwa Equator...” With a fine looking mzungu they will add.

So let us get this straight: Yes I was at the Equator, and yes there was a mzungu. (Damn, these days there are more zungs on this blog than in a whole season of Friends.) But I met her there. She was enamoured by my locks... (aren't they all?)

She was headed out to Samburu, so she said. “I am headed in that general direction,” said I.

We jumped into a matatu headed into the main bus stop at Nanyuki. I sat next to this cucu. She looked at me, looked at the girl, looked at me again and said: “Wagia kairitu kega ukagurira cucu thota!”

Haiya! Did I just get hustled? I chomoad the cash and all the time I was thinking, it is fair for people to pay White Tax, but why the fuck should I should I pay it by association?At this rate they will start staging Maasai booga booga shit in my room when I grab a whore at Karumaindo.

Anyway, this are all long and useless stories and they are probably against my bond to keep the peace. So I will leave you with the promise of some kind of report of my premature ejaculation... er,... escape. Soon... people.. soon.

As soon as I can get drank enough to write it!

Thursday, July 12, 2007


Good People,

I am finally in one town where the police do not want me. Well, at least not yet. I am in Isiolo heading further north. If I end up in another place I will tell you... but kesho I will try and catch a matatu to Archers Post. If I get caught I will email you all from jail. Or what the hell reforms does uncle Moody keep bragging about.

July 2007