The Tragedy of Barbie & the Bankrolling Sponsor – A Makutano Cautionary Tale

 

 A Picture of a slayqueen with tattoo and     Piercings. Photo/News24

Mabibi na mabwana, Hello again my dearest readers wa Makutano and beyond. 

Every day in my humble rounds across the beloved dust-choked corners of Makutano—especially my HQ at Mikocheni—I meet people. I hear stories. Some of rise. Some of ruin. Grass to grace. Rags to riches. And sometimes, grace back to grass faster than a barmaid’s eye-roll at a broke client.

But the other day, as I was on my usual patrol (read: jobless loitering with purpose), I stumbled upon a true-life Nigerian film being acted right before my eyes.

Today's topic: Sponsors.

Yes, wale mmamas na madaddies wenye wanageuza town's finest slay queens and slay kings into instant millionaires with just a swipe of their pension-funded cards.

Let me confess — I personally have never had that opportunity ya kuwekwa kama pet by a rich mama. But let’s be honest, if a soft life miracle ever lands at my feet, I won’t hesitate. I’ll milk that cow respectfully — starting with a visit to Safaricom shop to upgrade from Kabambe to iPhone 21 Ultra Max Pro Max+. You feel me?

But today’s story is not about me. It’s about a certain someone I’ll call Barbie Doll. (Real name hidden to avoid sponsor lawsuits and angry DCI calls.)

Enter Barbie and the Sponsor

I was seated peacefully at my usual joint—munching on my humble mixture (githeri for the uninitiated), prepping my stomach for my sacred afternoon jaba rituals.

In walked Barbie, dressed like she had just come from a failed Rihanna audition. Tattoos everywhere. Piercings like she had fallen into a sewing machine. Kitovu, nyonyo, nose, ears—if she had a liver piercing, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

Behind her walked her lover. I use that word loosely. This was business, not romance. The man was well-dressed, about 55 years of age, and smelling of old money and new desperation.

The man tried to be friendly. Mistook me for someone from the lake region and greeted me with a warm “Nango”. I confidently replied, “Bell” — the only Dholuo I know. So far so good.

But Barbie… Barbie had problems. Big ones. And the first was attitude. She scanned me from head to toe like I owed her child support. Then she spat out insults rapid-fire:

 "Ati hio ndio outfit umevaa?!"

 "Tattoo zako zinakaa kama zilichorwa na nursery kid!"

 "Unakula nini? Hii ni slums ama?"

Excuse me? Madam, was I chewing your future?

I breathed in. Breathed out. I remembered I’m a trained journalist and not a makanga, so I held my composure.

I introduced myself politely, explained the nature of my “media consultancy” (read: content creation and strategic jaba-fueled storytelling), and reminded her I wasn’t just some random dude in jeans. She calmed down. Slightly.

Then she excused herself to go "powder her nose" (read: make phone calls to side sponsors).

Sponsor Speaks: The Bankrolling Begins

Once she left, the sponsor looked at me, sighed like a defeated school principal, and said:

 “You see Jakuom… huyu msichana hakuna kitu sijamfanyia.”

He went on a TED Talk-length rant. Apparently, just last week he gave her over Ksh 100,000 to start a business. She blew it all on Remy Martin, fake Gucci bags, and probably a weekend at Best Lounge with her fellow Instagram motivational speakers.

Now she was back, broke, with nothing to show except new lashes and another hangover.

When Barbie returned, smiling like nothing happened, I had so many questions. But none louder than:

What do you do when someone is given gold, but they trade it for glitter?

Lessons from the Streets

After they left, my pal who had been silently witnessing this circus turned to me and dropped the quote of the year:

 “You can take a person out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the person.”

Deep.

I asked him what would happen when the sponsor finally got tired. He didn’t hesitate:

 “She will regret the opportunity.”

Simple. Brutal. Truthful.

Moral of the Story: Opportunity Has No Repeat Button

You see, dear readers, in this life of ours — especially here in Makutano where ambition is high but options are low — when opportunity knocks, you better be at the door with your CV, not your ego.

Barbie was handed a golden chance. But she mistook the sponsor's generosity for an eternal buffet.

And as you read this, someone somewhere is busy wasting their blessing because they think it will always be there. Be wise. Not everyone gets a second chance.

Final Word from Mikocheni:

As I head back to my jaba corner for deep national reflection, let me leave you with this Makutano Memo:

When opportunity comes, don’t twerk on it, build on it.

If someone gives you a ladder, don’t use it as a seat — climb.

Life won’t always send you a sponsor, a savior, or even a second chance.

So when you get your shot, shoot wisely.

Otherwise, you’ll end up like Barbie — trending on the wrong side of someone else’s sad story.

About the Author

Felix Kinyua is a media storyteller, satirist, and professional observer of the Makutano madness. With one leg in the streets and another in the newsroom, he blends humor, irony, and hard truths to document life as it unfolds in the rawest, realest corners of Kenya. When not writing, he can be found somewhere in Mikocheni sipping strong tea, chewing stories (and jaba), or dodging slay queens with unreasonable expectations.