In my final year in campus I shared a room with a nigga called Marto. I once told you that apart from pursuing a degree in medicine and surgery, the guy pursued girls and alcohol with impunity.  A THREAD....

Cc: Mokaya Onsase

Whenever he was drunk, he would run around the tuition block singing circumcision songs and declaring to all that he was more learned than the Vice Chancellor.

The male hostel we used to stay held the world record for the most coitus per square meter. Being a born again brother, I diligently applied anointing oil on the entrance of the hostel every morning to bind the spirits of fornication; but it seemed the devil always won.

I was actually convicted by the spirit one day to throw away the condom dispenser which I considered the sole motivation behind the romps. I was caught by one sexually starved idiot as I was empting the contents into a dustbin, he raised alarm and I was almost lynched.

At each given time, somebody was being laid in our hostel. You could always be sure that every girl who entered into the hostel was going for a dosage of conjugal installation.

There were written codes of communication. If you saw a socks hanging on the door knob of a room, it was a signal that a daughter of someone was undergoing "Semenal baptism". You were to pass tiptoeing and fast to avoid hearing the sound effects.

Despite Marto's effort to seduce, he was always unlucky with girls. He didn't take that lightly. He was a bitter and frustrated Nigga. Every Friday night he would drink and come to the hostel infuriated. He would run across the corridors of the hostel shouting loudly...

...actually screaming aiming to insult the girls he was sure were under "semenal baptism". "Hatutaki malaya kwa hii hostel!" "Kama unajua Kimwanaumme kina kinabounce juu yako, shame on you! Vaa suruali yako na uende ukalale! Ulikuja kusoma ama kulimwa!"

Whenever he saw socks hanging on the door he would camp their and start insulting and threatening the lovers. He would would threaten to report to the Janitor their presence. Given it was illegal for ladies to be in the hostel past 12 midnight,Marto's threats were always dreaded.

At times the notorious guys would find a girl for him to silence his nasty mouth.
Life Moved on.

This particular evening, a round 6 PM, Marto had taken too much for the night. He came to the room, switched his iron box on and left it on the bed as he proceeded to the urinal to eject some of the alcohol. By the time he was through, he had forgotten about the iron box.

He made one lap across the corridor yelling and telling imaginary girls "shame on you" and calling them sex addicts. Instead of going to his room, he walked out of the hostel towards the canteen to Blueband ya 5/=. His sheets caught fire. Slowly the lazily flames were spreading.

Given that his room was full of Keg and stacked bottles of spirit, it soon burst into flames. Smoke spread first through the windows but seemingly nobody was noticing. A bunch of us who were now experts in "kuyonga monkey"were just outside the hostel playing pool.

We were first to here the blasting sound as the flames gushed trough the window and smoke spread across the corridors.The hostel had four floors, and most sex addicts stayed on the third floor. Most idiots were to absorbed in their chakacha's to notice that the hostel was on fire

Those who were anointed like me entered into intercessions binding the fire and condemning satan for it. No sooner had we raised alarm than those inside realized hell had gone loose. Unsastified manhood were pulled out, ejaculations stopped midway and organisms terminated.

Moans were soon replaced with screams of Help! Help! In a a few seconds a scene only attained in a Holywood was unraveling. Ten of ladies ran out of the hostels naked carrying pants in their hands. Majority of them were carrying their trousers high and fled like David Rudisha.

Boobs heaved up and down on naked chests of poor girls as they ran out and away from the looming death. One of them almost knocked me off as she dashed out totally naked and screaming the name of her mother as I hugged her and consoled her to remain calm. I felt warm

Niggas too rushed out nude, most with condoms still on. We were laughing our lungs almost forgetting we needed to act fast to put off the fire. Marto's room was second floor and as we struggled to direct the horse pipe into the room, we were fearful some guys were stuck in.

True to our word, when the smoke fizzled out, we found many ladies suffocated on the corridor totally naked and still smelling of sexual fragrances. We carried them off for first aid. We laid them on the grass to recover, and because of shortage of clothes majority were naked.

Marto appeared still drunk and shouted. "Naona leo mmeamua mtakuliana hapa kwa nyasi?" "Wacha mimi niende room nika-iron manguo!" as he staggered towards the scorched room.

Now, now don't forget to follow me