When I was working the trenches back in 2015, maisha ilikuwa imegonga mwamba saidi.

You know how poor people are always angry, always on the verge of smacking someone for no reason, that was me. Poverty teaches you that any being doing better than you is an automatic enemy, because why in this god-forsaken world would someone be raruaing steaks while the best you can do is buying mutura of 10 bob to sprinkle on your Mboga of 5 bob at least hiyo nyumba iwe na kaharufu ya nyama.

So, the situation was dire and it so happened one day after the day’s mjengo I was tired like a donkey from Mwea. You see, there are no cars in Mwea, not even one. Mwea is stuck in the Neolithic age of using animals as a means of transport like God intended. I think when the Wahengas were making their shit up, they walked to Mwea and when they saw the sorry state of the donkeys there they said, “Wallahi Abdullahi nakwambia hii kutembea tumetembea Nina uchovu kama Punda wa Mwea"

The last man to own an automobile in Mwea was Wamuthende’s grandfather who was the area MP in 1974. He then ran away to Embu with the whole fiscal budget of the year 1975/1976 after seeing the finest nyash being served by a short Embu chick called Jane Kagure. Also somehow for some odd reason all the women in Embu are very short, but that's a story for another day.

So there I was hungry and tired. A hungry man is an angry man so they say, and I was poor so now I was angry ×2 angry squared² even. As consolation for a hungry poor soul you would think I would buy some chocolate and trinkets to placate my anger. But not me, Men from Sikhendu whip up big big Emotional Support Ugali’s when we're not feeling good.

I sat on my wooden stool sufuria between my legs, a paraffin stove burning it's ass. I whipped up a mighty ugali my ancestors almost shed tears of joy.

Then I decided, I would buy mayai to accompany my Ugali. Ugali mayai has been the comfort meal for comrades since 1999. I checked my being for some few silvers, only to be like Peter - indeed silver and gold I had none. But I remembered my great grandfather Akuku Danger had told us to always save for a rainy day, so I always had some few shillings stowed away somewhere hidden.

I ransacked the house quickly and efficiently, flipping tables, overturning mattresses, kudara dara nguo zangu zote. Until I flipped a green raincoat I had and something heavy fell. It hit the floor and ran to my mattress - it was a large fat black rat. Obviously I did not like it, but at the time I knew there was something in the raincoat because Wahenga said Kwenye Moshi Kuna Moto and Panya ikianguka kutoka Kwa Jacket Kuna Pesa hapo ndani.

Sure enough in the left pocket of the raincoat was a crumbled finje note [as Mr T would have it]. You know the other day a Makanga fella asked me if Niko na Kioo, I was like, why would a man from Sikhendu walk around with a mirror? Which man even walks around with a mirror? Kumbe he was asking if I had a 100 shillings!

Anyway I took the crumbled finje with glee and I started walking towards the door while uncrumbling this Fifty shillings note.

Eeh! Eeh! Eeeh! I found that the Fifty shillings note was traumatized, shaking with fear. Kumbe the Rat had eaten half of it and was about to devour the other half had I not caught it on time. But now it was too late, the note was useless like Kasongo.

Immediately rage burned through me and I flipped the mattress with herculean force to see the fat black rat shaking in the corner. How dare you be fat in my house?

Me, I wake up to go to Mjengo for a fat rat to enjoy my misery?

I caught it like it owed me money, ok it did, but I almost strangled it. Then I realized that was too easy a way to die compared to the pain and suffering this fat black rat had caused me.

I walked to the wall socket and put one of it's little arms in one hole of the charging port and the other in the other hole.

I charged it mercilessly with 5000 volts of electricity till it started singing like a melodic choir that Ruto Must Go!