Illustration: Joe Ngari, Daily Nation

Illustration: Joe Ngari, Daily Nation

Arise and shine comrades. My old man, Grandpa Richard, has asked me to wish you a merry Christmas from the bottom of his humongous heart. He has also asked me to clarify to you that Christmas is a holiday whereby Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. Not a day set aside for sleeping in, eating like senior Kenyan government officials and then drowning an entire brewery later in the afternoon.

It is commendable that my comrades have maintained the peace (read staying out of prime time news) during the holiday season, but Grandpa Richard fears that the worst is about to come. All the year’s asininity is about to be compressed into Thursday night—the asinine end year jamborees.


Driven by an inane fear of missing out, every comrade feels that they have to end the year in the most prurient style ever. Pubs jolt to life and brewers grin from ear to ear as liquor for house parties is bought in crates. Drowning the troubles of 2015, they’ll tell you. Church is no longer the preferred location to end a year.

Other than the ubiquitous booze, I strongly suspect illegal stuff is ingested too. Comrades are keen in making memories this night, you know. Pounded mandrake, ecstasy pills, gulps of boiled marijuana, pounded mandrake, shisha bongs… all in the name of making that night special. They then commence the New Year filled with drug-induced braggadocio, feeling higher than the Times Tower.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Twitter and Instagram (and I hear there’s another vacuous one called Snapchat) will get swarmed by those “I haven’t taken a shower since last year” stale jokes. Photos of their asinine soirees will flood the timelines as my comrades have never learned how to keep their shenanigans to themselves.

Those in the hamlet will crawl to their homesteads singing circumcision songs past 9pm well past the time when most legitimate drunkards have already thrown up on the village rag and gone home. They will terrorise village girls and harass seniors who’ve been keeping vigil at the church. Well, threat or no threat, this year Grandpa is saying ‘No!’

Though Grandpa Richard often wonders what comrades celebrate about, I will cut them some slack today. After all, the year only ends once, right?  Feel like twerking all night till you lose bone cartilage? That’s actually none of my business. Kerfuffle and brawls, however, are best avoided. Try to stay out of jail.

Even as you splurge money you don’t have to try and fit in this holiday season, remember to spare a thought for the less fortunate. Put a smile on another’s face by helping them celebrate the holiday in style too. Well, not exactly in your fatuous style, but you get what I mean.

Happy New Year, comrades. Just remember to keep the brouhaha down past 9pm; it’s Grandpa Richard’s bedtime.

Lukorito Jones

When I'm not busy chasing around stories for my quasi-journalism career, you'll find me dabbling in fiction and perfecting my deer-dancing and goat-screaming skills.

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