New Shoes

“Nairobi mji wa/ wezi na Malaya wanalia machozi ya diamond kwa lodging/ flying squad wanahoji/ umetoa wapi gari na hufanyi kazi/ we ni ja ja jambazi/” – Kitu Sewer aka K Swiss of Mashifta

Yesterday I got off work disappointed as usual with all ends of the months. It’s usually the best or worst time in my line of work. This time around it wasn’t so much the man who screwed me, I didn’t follow up on some clients and I will pay the price for it. Anyway, I was walking down Kimathi Street to connect with the Aga Khan Walk in order to get to the mathrees. I specifically use this route coz that’s when you get to ogle at Nairobi’s finest women.

So there I am looking at some really juicy ass cheeks and wondering how they would look out of those hipsters. Go cellulite! Go! I am rudely interrupted from my happy thoughts by a guy who’s holding shoes and he’s wants me to buy them. I just shrug the dude off with a loose no thank you and keep on walking. As I walk on I see about three more Somali dudes with the same shoes the guy was trying to sell me and they are all hawking this ish in the streets like that. That’s when I stopped and started talking to myself.

Bella: Hey man, those kicks look kinda cool bruh maybe we need to cop those. What do you think?

Self: You know you need to cop those, walking around with those worn out shoes of yours. Man, it looks      like the sole not only wants a divorce from the rest of the shoe but also split up with itself! Where’s your pride negro!

Bella: You know if I cop those there will be a deficit in the Naps budget?

Self: Hey your shoes look great! Let’s go to Al’s right quick!

Bella: Hell nah, I’m copping.

That ladies and gentlemen should be some shit they teach you in consumer behavior class. I put my image before the Naps and copped myself some new kicks from a Somali dude who looked like he need some miraa real quick. There I was this morning singing the new shoes song like Grandad Freeman from The Boondocks and then I tried them on. To say the pain is unbearable is an understatement. My feet feel like they are being held in a G-Clamp (look it up, that’s why you have Google). I know you have to break in new shoes but damn, these suckaz feel like they will never break in.

I’m walking around the office with my feet feeling like the negroes that were stuffed in the slave ships from Africa across the Atlantic to the Americas. However, I am getting mad props from the ladies at work and even the guys. They apparently like these shoes. As my man Wez would say, “The ego has grown tenfold.” I might even try and hit on that hot chinky girl on the 6th floor coz of these suckaz. You should look at me right now, walking around like Shaft, the real Shaft from the 70s!

I do however keep going to the washroom to let my feet get a breather, then I’m back walking it out in the office, my new name should be Unk! Anyway the next time you see a Somali dude on the streets with a look of miraa starvation and shoes in his hands, cop those coz they will get you laid, I know I will…eventually.




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