The Real Single Mums Of Kilimani- Part 1



Where else in Nairobi will you find more houses with single mums than in Kilimani Estate?

Kilimani Estate is not a glass of wine for everyone, it is for the selected few, the high-end society that goes to bed with balance in their pocket. It is a haven for the upper-middle-class society with the potential of moving into the upper-class but is stuck in the upper-middle class because of their extravagant lifestyles, for the case of the married one, they are stuck in the upper-middle class because of the careless spending of their wives or fiancées.

Kilimani estate is the dream hood of every young woman in Nairobi. It has all types of ladies, married women, single mums, corporate ladies and housewives married to rich men, but they both have one trail; they are never satisfied. They are never satisfied in bed, they are never satisfied with the money that they got, their closets are never elegant enough. A woman in Kilimani estate is always on the hunt for more; sex, money, shopping, beauty et. Al, they barely have a minute for their men. Their cars are never modern enough, even if you buy you’re a recent model, a month later, she will want that month’s model.

In their quest for more, a single mum in Kilimani has a strict weekly routine.

Those who work in the corporate world spend their weekdays working, while the unemployed run their booming boutique and saloon businesses in malls around Westlands, Rhunda, and other upper-class urban centers. Wednesday and Sunday evenings are spent in Chamas, Friday evenings are reserved for night outs, heavy drinking, and fucking in clubs in Westlands. They drink, fuck and do shopping on Saturdays and Sunday mornings are dedicated to God. They attend upper-class churches and strictly follow the tithing programs. No one is as saved as a Kilimani mum on a Sunday morning.

They live on the ‘work hard and play hard’ slogans. Despite being single in their status, a single mum in Kilimani Estate gets more sex than even their married counterparts.

Makena, a Kilimani Estate mum, was not a single mum, but she had all the genes and traits to be a future single mum. She was 22 years, an age bracket that she had maintained for the past five years. Her husband met her when she was 22, nearly 3 years later, she still gave every new person in her life the same age that she gave her husband three years ago when they first meet. Makena was very beautiful, owned very profitable saloons and boutiques in CDB, Westlands, and The Village Market.

The dead said that behind a successful man there is a woman, but in Kilimani, they say, behind a successful lady, there is a hardworking man who is ugly and poor in bed. The man behind Makena was Ogul, a senior software engineer contracted by IBM Kenya.

Ogul met Makena at a beauty pageant event at the University of Nairobi where Makena was crowned as that year’s Miss UON. He was introduced to Makena by a common female friend, Bianca. Bianca was an IT intern at IBM Kenya, fresh from the University of Nairobi where she was Makena’s roommate for two years.

After the party, the two met for a blind date that was organized by Bianca. That is how their Kilimani story started. At the time of their meeting, Ogul was residing in Nyayo Estate, however, after a month of moving in with Makena, this happened. ‘Sweetheart, Nyayo estate is too boring for our class. Sweetheart, I am sure you can afford an apartment in Kilimani. More so, all my friends and some of your friends stay in Kilimani.’ Makena was riding Ogul with exotic sex styles that he had never experienced before when she proposed that. In his sexual oblivion mind, Ogul, without even thinking replied, ‘we are going to move next month sweetheart.’ As a man who was never lucky with women in his life, there was no way he would have turned down the requests of his new girlfriend. To make it even easier for his decision-making process, the girlfriend had made the request during sex.

Moving houses was not the only favors that came in Makena’s direction. ‘Sweetheart I need a business of my own, a boutique and a Saloon,’ was the next favor that Makena raised during those steamy early relationship bedroom moments. A man would sign his own death certificate with a riding woman on top of him. Ogul was that man, he did everything that Makena asked him to. He had money, he had a good paying job, what else would have stopped him from making his girlfriend happy?

Was Makena really his girlfriend? Not anymore, ‘Baby when are you going to pop that question? All my friends are engaged!’ was the next question that followed another steamy sex, this time around the sex happened in their Kilimani estate kitchen counter during their housewarming party.

The following Monday morning, in a choreographed move, Ogul brought the whole of Waiyaki Way around the University Way roundabout traffic to a standstill to propose to his Makena. His friends and colleagues, in excess of 30, and each with his own car, parked their cars on either side of Waiyaki Way. 15 on each lane.

Ogul then got out of the car, in which he was riding alongside the unsuspecting Makena. Behind Makena’s thought, she thought he was going to yell at those that had parked the cars on the way, she thought he was going to yell at them for blocking the car.

‘Maybe there is an accident ahead of us,’ Makena thought. Ogul walked around the car, pulled open Makena’s door, went down on his knees, pulled a golden ring from his pocket and popped the questions with threats…

‘Either you say yes or no one is going to use Waiyaki Way for the rest of the days. If you don’t say yes, my boys will walk out of the cars, lock them and walk far away with the car keys. We will leave the cars parked on the road. No one will use the road unless you say yes. Therefore, I ask you Makena, will you marry me?’

Makena was overwhelmed with emotions. She wanted an engagement but she had not expected a daring proposal. The cars behind them, which had tailed as far as 200 meters, started hooting loudly . Some drivers walked angrily towards the cars at the scene of the crime, only to find a man with a proposal golden ring. How do you even yell at a man with a golden ring?

‘Say yes, say yes!’ filled the air as tears of joy filled Makena’s head. She was ecstatic.

She got out of the car, pulled Ogul on his feet, hugged him tightly and uttered a sensuous, ‘yes, honey! I will marry you’

Congratulatory claps followed as the latest couples in Nairobi exchanged a short magnetic kiss. The rest of the drivers walked back into their cars as a loud siren of the police cars was head from far. They drove off, in pictures and videos from everyone and the Kenyan media that was at the location.

As they drove off to a two day holiday in Naivasha, the Kenyan social media was washed with their photos and videos. The bloggers ran their story, ‘Five things you didn’t know about Ogul and Makena, number five will shock you,’ was one of the headlines that ran their story.

Ogul and Makena had become celebrities in Kenya. Upon their return, Tv and radio interviews awaited. They moved from one media house to the other, as frequent as the corrupt political analysis during Kenya’s election period.

Just like that, just like Githeri man, Makena had become a Tv personally; she was given own Tv Show in one of Kenya’s upcoming Tv station. The fame around her earned her a socialite status, her social media following expanded in millions, and she ran a very highly followed Instagram page. She became a fashion icon in a fortnight and whatever she wore was copied across Kenya. Her image was growing every day. Adverts and endorsements begged for her attention.

Ogul on the other hand, after a week of the publicity, he detached himself from the limelight and went back to his job.

That happened twenty months earlier. During that time, Makena had a big ‘miscarriages’. She conceived with a Belgium guy she had picked up at a Westland club, scared that the baby might be born with a very light skin, compared to Ogul’s charcoal color, she did a strategic abortion that looked like a miscarriage.

Ogul got scared. His mother during her early marital life, experienced two miscarriages before she finally had Ogul. He was scared he might have inherited the ‘bad’ genes from his mother. Makena set medical sessions with a doctor, a young handsome doctor whom she had already shared a bed with before her pregnancy. They were friends on a personal level and had shared a random bed after both of them had become extremely drunk during a friend’s birthday party.

The young doctor in his finding ruled that ‘the patient’s miscarriage was because of psychological reasons and not biological reason. You have no cause to worry about because your wife will conceive again in future,’ the doctor advised.

Ogul went back home a relieved man. Makena was a very beautiful lady, a celebrity and siring kids with her meant raising young beautiful and handsome celebrities. One of the reasons why he worked hard as a young man was to have handsome and beautiful kids that would probably pick their mother’s genes. He never liked his own genes, he was too dark and ugly for his own kids.

Makena, under peer pressure, had deliberately sired with a white guy to have ‘pointee’ like two of her friends. Two of her three BFFs had sired kids with white guys on holiday or school missions in Kenya. The third friend had conceived with a son to a Nigerian tycoon who owned an oil field. The Nigerian prince was also half-Nigerian-half-Slovakian. ‘You want your kids to be as ugly as their father? Get external genes. He won’t know about it unless he pushed for a DNA taste. DNA tastes come in place if you guys are in your extremes,’ Bianca, who had conceived with an Irish Student at UASU University, advised.

‘I sired with a very handsome Nigerian tycoon. I was still staying with my then ugly ex-husband, Kipyator. When the baby came, he was as light as his biological dad, but I am also light, I just said that the kid followed my genes when he tried to ask for a DNA test during our fighting times. After making a fortune from him, we finally broke up or divorced and I walked out with my handsome boy. When he tried to fight for paternity rights, I gave him the DNA results. My five-year-old boy is a model already and he hosts kids Tv shows. Imagine a boy with Kipyator’s genes on Tv?’ Sarah, another of her friend contributed.

‘You have a TV job, you make your own money as a model, you got adverts coming your way, and you still make a lot of money from him. In case he questions you about your ‘pointee’ or the color of the baby, divorce him. The future Kenya has no space for ugly babies,’ her third friend, Angela, gave her opinion. They all encouraged her to sire a kid with a good-looking man who would compliment her equally good looks. Makena was the youngest of her friends, and unlike her, the three were single mums staying in Kilimani.

The four, who had branded their friendship, ‘shikundi’, were sipping expensive wine in a club in Westlands on that day. Next to their table were two white guys and two Kenyan male friends. She started flaunting with one of the white guys, something that her friends encouraged. She was drunk and didn’t make informed decisions.

Later on, they ended up in the white guy’s hotel in Westlands where they spent the whole weekend fucking, drinking and doing all sorts of sodomy. She went back home with an international pregnancy on Sunday evening while Ogul jetted back in the country from his company’s sponsored trip to South Africa the following morning.

She served him with a steamy ‘welcome back in the country’ sex for the whole day. A day that she was supposed to ‘conceive for her pregnancy’.

Two months later, Makena made a happy announcement to her man, ‘baby do

you remember the sex we had on the day that you came back from South Africa?’ she asked Ogul.

‘That is the best sex we have ever had. It was mind-blowing. Maybe I should travel outside the country again then jet back into such sex!’ Ogul replied.

‘Guess what?’


‘You became a father on that day!’ Makena announced. Ogul could not believe his own excitements. He jumped up and down and called his parents back home to inform them of the great news.

They moved, under the request of Makena, from a two bedroom house into a three bedroom house in Kilimani. ‘The baby would need his/her own room when s/he comes of ages. We need to start pampering its room as early as now. Moreso, we will need a house help soon. When I am too pregnant, I will need a house-help.’ Makena argued her point. Within a week, they moved houses.

As time moved on, her pregnancy affected her body. She became puffy and fat. She lost her figure as her bum protruded. She lost her Tv space, adverts stopped coming her way and her social media following went down. With her life dependency on fame, she almost went into a depression.

Her personal earnings went down, and that is when she realized that she could not do without Ogul. She had not saved a lot. The money she made from her business, salary, and Ogul were spent on shopping, hair, trips and partying. ‘I am not yet there,’ she was scared. ‘If he realized that I conceived with a white guy, he will divorce me. I have nothing yet!’ she meditated in her now almost lonely life; after temporarily detaching from her ‘shikundi’ to nurse her pregnancy.

‘I used to drink and club when I was pregnant!’ Bianca had tried to persuade her to join them in the club. ‘You are just being scared for no reason.’

Makena stood firm and decided to stay alone for a while as she worked on her dilemma. Eventually, she decided to get rid of the pregnancy, in what her loverboy doctor claimed to be a miscarriage.

‘I think she plugged herself in depression when she lost her TV job!’ Ogul contributed to that particular ‘doctor seeing’ session.

To increase her income, so that her wife wouldn’t be stressed about losing jobs again, he set up for her two monster boutiques, one in CBD and other in the Village Market. She was happy despite losing the baby, ‘I got at least two huge businesses running as future security and I am now living in three bedroom house’ she convinced herself. Her status among her friends had increased despite the pregnancy miscarriage.

Life went on as usual. She went back to school to pursue her master’s in Business Administration while she ran her businesses. Ogul went on working hard, getting another promotion at IBM, his salary jumped the 1 million mark. He became the youngest paid young Kenyan, a status that cemented Makena deeper into his bed.

As Makena’s businesses ballooned, and as she learned the art of saving, in chamas and saccos, pride became her everyday attire. She started disrespecting her Ogul completely, she went out and came back late more frequently without his permission or giving an explanation later on.

With his maturity, Ogul maintained his calm nature. He was scared of confronting his wife because he was scared of losing her. He always avoided incidences that would lead to marital fights. Sex became scarce. Being a career person, Ogul buried deeper into his job. Deep down his head, he believed his wife carried that unwelcoming behavior because she was still suffering from the miscarriage.

One day, he thought that his wife had taken the recovery far too long. He asked her why she had changed and why she no longer performed her wife duties. She became too hostile to him. It was her first time to raise her voice on him…

‘I no longer enjoy your sex. You are buried deeper into your career you barely have time to exercise. You are becoming too fat and chubby. You always disappoint whenever we have sex,’ In less than two years, his bedroom prowess had moved from, ‘baby you are the best man that has ever fucked me,’ to this latest compliments.

Ogul lowered his head into the duvet. There was no way he was coming back into the argument after such an accusation. There was evidence, his stomach had been bulging, his once strong youthful body was deforming. There was nothing as demeaning as your wife questioning your bedroom abilities, and it is even worse when she blames it on your physical appearance.

‘Long are days when men used to dump, divorce or even sometimes cheat on their wives because they were fat. I wonder what happened to those men who maintained their fit bodies all their lives. Life has changed, women are now maintaining a fitter body than men,’ Makena added. She had made a huge effort to recover her old fit body with a flat tummy and a figure that left men wagging their tongues and turning their faces to ogle her round as. She had enrolled for gym sessions around her hood and spent evenings doing gym exercises with the fitter gym instructor. She had the last gym session, and it was private and special.