A tribute to everyone who makes this column worthwhile

This is my last article this year – the 48th piece – and I’d like to make some special tributes and acknowledgements to people who have been a part of this column in one way or another.

First on this list is Professor Nabiswa, my newspaper vendor. He’s not a real professor but a self-professed professor of politics, because there is always some sort of a political baraza at the corner from which he sells newspapers, with a neat crowd of his cronies who talk nothing but politics. They all call him Prof, so everybody calls him Prof.

From the moment Prof found out that it’s me who writes this column he has always imagined that I’m privy to the going-ons at Orange House, that I’m a member of ODM and that I have Raila on speed dial.

What a laugh! I promise you I didn’t put these fairy tales in his head, in fact I have always protested that tale but does the man listen?

He treats me like royalty, something that flatters but mostly embarrasses me.

He calls me “Piko” and somehow I don’t mind. But for the umpteenth time, Prof, I don’t know the ‘real reason’ why Senator Wetangula was denied entry into that plane other than the fact that he didn’t present his ID (this pissed him off so much, he ranted about it for weeks!). I like Prof.

Based on reality

I’m sure right now he’s reading this deep in his village somewhere in Western where he’s spending his holidays.

I can picture him, at the local shopping centre, telling a small crowd of villagers, in that amusing Luhya accent, “Huyu Piko ni rafiki yangu sana, sana sana. In fact acha nimpigie simu atuambie nani anachukua hii kiti ya Homa Bay.” Prof, thanks for reading.

Most of my stories here are sometimes based on real life events. To my friends, acquaintances and loved ones whose stories I might have retold here and you didn’t take it kindly, I want to assure you it wasn’t malice.

In my defence, I was gracious enough to change the names of the characters. Besides, I always gave you fresh cool names, names that are always better than your real names.

And to that one friend whom I wrote about last year (last year for the love of Jove!) and who severed our friendship because of that; come on, chief, let’s not make up when we will be too old to laugh about it over a drink.

To those who always write in to the editor to comment on a story I wrote, thanks a lot.

To my friend, Sanda, who continues to get surprised every week that I still keep my column with this “gibberish”, one day I will win you over as a fan. One day.

I refuse to give up on you! To those readers who take the things I write about too personally, who froth in the mouth and sometimes write me acerbic emails, I thank you too. It’s never that serious.

To the scours of young upcoming writers who write to me, attaching poetry, another soapy commentary on relationships, or personal musings, or just asking for advice on how to make it as a writer, thanks for reaching out.

If by any chance I never replied your email it’s because you either wrote it in that annoying “xaxa” language or wrote “you” as “u”, “because” as “bcoz” and generally disregarded the simplest grammatical rules, or just showed a lack of complete seriousness when it came to simple grammar.

It can’t kill you to capitalise the “B” in my name, can it? Nonetheless, your dreams remain valid.

Grateful for ardent readers

And to my editor, Wayua Muli, who cleans up my sometimes terrible copy, who understands and is always patient when I’m suffering from a writer’s block, she who sells my pieces with those smart and witty headers, thank you, W!

Lastly, and most importantly, you the ardent readers; faceless and obscure, enthused and dedicated, those who come here every Saturday and laugh with me, thank you so much for keeping Man Talk company this year. I appreciate it. Take care and let’s do this again next year, inshallah!

Oh, and to Prof, I can’t reach you on phone, please don’t forget to bring me my avocados.