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Mbasitwa, Lusaka (2026)

12/01/2026

African Shepherd paying attention🙌😂

12/01/2026

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08/01/2026

🐍 The Night We Fought Darkness Instead of the Snake.

Last night, I was chilling in my room, minding my own business, when suddenly my neighbour’s voice tore through the silence:

“Help! Help! Snake ooo!”

Like a true village Avenger, I grabbed the strongest piece of wood I could find and dashed into her sitting room. And behold, there it was. A snake so big it looked like it had just finished eating Adam and Eve’s, descendants.

Other neighbours joined me, and together we formed a squad of confused warriors. We shouted in unison:

“Today is the end of your life, you witch snake!”

I wanted to be the hero of the night, so I stepped forward, chest out, ready to hammer the serpent into the Book of Revelation. The snake turned, its eyes glowing red like it had borrowed power from Lucifer himself.

I quickly devised a military strategy: “On the count of three, we strike together!”

I began: 1… 2… 3… GO!

And then—Peeeeeeeem! ⚡
JEDCO took the light.

Darkness swallowed us whole. The door was locked. The snake was inside. And suddenly, we were not fighting the snake anymore, we were fighting each other.

Every touch felt like venom. If someone brushed my shoulder, I hammered them with my stick, convinced it was the snake. If I touched someone, I received a beating so hot it could reset my ancestors.

Chaos reigned. Screams filled the room. The snake was probably laughing in the corner, sipping tea, watching us destroy ourselves.

By the time light returned, the snake had vanished, and we were the ones lying in pain. As I speak to you now, we are all in the hospital, bandaged like mummies, victims of our own bravery.

Lesson learned: I have officially retired from helping people. Next time you scream “Snake!”, I will clap for you from my window. You cannot come and kill me with community service. 🤪

Good Morning.

For another one,
Don't forget to like and share...
✍ Mbasitwa 🥷

31/12/2025

Some bottles destroy families… others just chill in the fridge waiting to be loved. 😂🍺”

A drunkard woke up one morning, head pounding like a church drum after a bitter fight with his wife the previous night.

He staggered outside, saw the crate of beer bottles staring at him like guilty suspects, and decided justice must be served.

He grabbed the first empty bottle, smashed it against the wall and shouted:
👉 “You are the reason I fight with my wife!”
Second bottle: SMASH!
👉 “You are the reason I don’t love my children!”

Third bottle: SMASH!
👉 “You are the reason I don’t have a decent job!”

Then he picked the fourth bottle… sealed, cold, and sweating like it knew it was innocent. He paused, squinted at it, and said:
👉 “You stand aside… I know you were not involved.” 🍺😂

Ladies and gentlemen, that’s how you know alcohol is a toxic relationship: the empty ones ruin your life, but the full ones? It still looks like a hope and a fresh start.

✍️ Mbasitwa 🥷

29/12/2025

FUNERAL DRIVER TURNED TAXI MAN.

Yesterday in Gudele, a passenger innocently tapped a taxi driver on the shoulder to ask a question.

The driver screamed like a man who had just seen his ancestors, lost control of the car, nearly collided with a bus, mounted the footpath, and stopped centimetres from a shop window.

Silence filled the cab. Then the driver, still shaking, said:

“Mate, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!”

The passenger, confused, apologised:
“I didn’t realise a little tap would scare you so much.”

The driver sighed and confessed:
“Sorry, it’s not your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver. I’ve been driving a funeral van for the last 25 years… I thought it was a co**se that touched me.”

Ladies and gentlemen, this is not just comedy. This is trauma, culture shock, and savage humour rolled into one.

✍ Mbasitwa 🥷

28/12/2025

⚡ The Charger War Chronicles ⚡

Yesterday, I returned home from an outing with friends, with a battery at 15%, the kind of percentage that makes you pray in tongues.

As I entered my street, there was light. By the time I reached my doorstep, darkness had swallowed the universe.
JEDECCO is not just wicked, they are spiritual terrorists.

I was already imagining a boring night of staring at the ceiling when my neighbour appeared like Moses, carrying a container of petrol. He was about to resurrect his generator. Hope came alive. I rushed inside, grabbed my charger, and plugged my destiny into his socket.

But alas, the man had a guest. I couldn’t stay in his room, so I left my phone charging and went outside to gist with other neighbours. My mind was calm, I knew by the time I returned, my phone would be 100% charged and ready to fight battles.

Three hours later, the generator coughed, wheezed, and died like a goat in the hands of a butcher. My neighbour came out apologising:

“Sorry, my bro, I used your charger to charge my baby phone. I think the fuel will last till midnight.”

I smiled like a monk, but inside my spirit was boiling like hot porridge.

When he finally handed me my phone, it was 4%, hotter than a frying pan, and decorated with vegetable leaves. My phone had been used as a torchlight in the kitchen while my charger was busy servicing his babe’s battery.

Tell me, is the heart of man not wicked?

I swallowed my pain, went to my room, and behold, light had returned. I laughed like a prophet who had just defeated Satan. I plugged my phone again, danced a little, and went to bed.

Throughout the night, I had dreams:
In one, my phone was fully charged.
In another, my neighbour begged me to charge his phone.

In the last one, the boys tried to sn**ch my phone.

When I woke up, I realised the truth: I had plugged my phone in but forgot to switch on the socket. My phone was sitting at 2%, mocking me.

This morning, light disappeared again. My neighbour had gone out early. I blame him for everything that has happened to me in the last fifteen hours.

I have reported the matter to:
Gudele 1 Chief
Gudele Police Station
Mathiang Anyoor Battalion
The Vigilante Leader
Wrong Face Intelligence Unit
And the Men’s Brigade

⚔️ A Charger War is about to begin.

✍ Mbasitwa 🥷

28/12/2025

It's another day with another word.
Guess the word?

25/12/2025

THE DAY MY BELT BETRAYED ME IN PUBLIC.

My people, there is shame… and then there is South Sudanese shame that can finish your whole life. That day? Eh, no part two.

It was Saturday, wedding day. You know in Juba, if there is no wedding on Saturday, the sun will refuse to shine.

I borrowed my brother Gatluak’s native clothes because I wanted to pepper people small. The way I dressed, even my walk changed — I was moving like an MP entering parliament.

But the trousers? Big like a UN food bag. I said, no problem, my belt will hold it like SPLA soldier.

Mistake of the year.

At the reception, everything was fine until hunger started preaching to me:
“Go take rice and chicken, my son.”

I obeyed.

As I reached the food table, I felt trousers moving like they want independence. I ignored. Then suddenly — KPA!

My belt broke like a South Sudanese road during the rainy season.

Before I even prayed, trousers started falling down. One hand holding rice with a big chicken, the other hand holding trousers like I am catching a thief. Aunties opened eyes wide like they saw coup d’état. One even shouted like breaking news on Eye Radio.

Now imagine me: walking back like clown, trousers in one hand, chicken in the other, shame covering my whole body.

My friend whispered:
“Guy, why you catwalk like Bobrisky?”

I wanted to cry but hunger said, eat first, shame later.

I sat down the rest of the wedding, trousers in my hand like I am guarding national treasure.

⚠️ Lesson: Never trust borrowed trousers. Never trust a borrowed belt. Both carry the spirit of betrayal.

Gatluak, come collect your clothes before I sue you in customary court.

✍️ Mbasitwa 🥷

25/12/2025

My First Employment.
Gatekeeper of Love Affairs.

I was only ten years old when destiny slapped me with my first job offer. My neighbour, Uncle John Bull, an Air Force man with more girlfriends than aircraft, called me aside like he was recruiting me for a secret mission.

“Living, I have a job for you,” he whispered, chest puffed like James Bond but with a potbelly.

The assignment?
Guard the gate. Why? Because his slim girlfriend was inside the house, and his fat girlfriend with legs like two electric poles was on her way.

Ladies and gentlemen, this was not employment. This was Cold War intelligence work.

🍪 The Biscuit Politics.
I asked Uncle if this was the same fat aunty who once bought me biscuits. He said no, it was the other fat aunty. The stingy one. The one who could greet you with lipstick but never with snacks.

Among all Uncle’s girlfriends, she was the only one who contributed nothing to my life. No biscuits, no sweets, no chewing gum. Just generator noise and suspicious lipstick. I disliked her with passion.

💸 Salary Negotiation
Uncle saw confusion in my eyes. He dipped into his pocket and handed me 20 Kwacha. My first salary ever. I screamed like I had won the lottery.

“Uncle, don’t worry. I will lock this gate like a prison warder. Nobody will enter!” I assured, chest high like a soldier.

I ran outside, sat under the hot sun, and transformed into Satan’s younger brother. My face turned blue, my head hammered by the sun, but I endured. Employment is not beans.

🐄 The Arrival of Ten Cows.
After two hours of suffering, I saw her. The fat aunty. She was the size of ten cows, bouncing towards me like a moving mountain.

I ran to hug her. She lifted me and landed me on her chest like a tuber of yams. My brain short-circuited.

Then she pulled out 500 Kwacha brand new notes. My biggest cash prize ever. I sniffed it like perfume.

“Aunty, Uncle is inside. He was even on a generator,” I confessed, betraying my employer instantly.

💥 The Battle of Girlfriends.
Next thing I heard: bottles breaking, doors banging, tongues lashing. Uncle’s head was baptised with a bottle. Slim girlfriend escaped without clothes.

And me? I hid my 500 Kwacha under the carpet and started following my mother to the market in peace.

🙏 Final Apology
Uncle John Bull, wherever you are, forgive me. I was only ten. I didn’t betray you, money betrayed me.

It’s not what you think. I can explain. But first, let me sniff my 500 Kwacha again.

Merry Christmas to Uncle John Bull and his battalion of girlfriends.

✍️ Mbasitwa

03/11/2025

A man slaughters a big cow, starts the grill, and says to his daughter, "Daughter, go call our relatives, friends, and neighbors to join us... We're having a celebration!" The daughter goes out to the street and shouts, "Please help! My father's house is on fire!"
After some time, only a few people come out to help, while many others act like they didn't hear anything.
The ones who came stay, eat, and enjoy the food until late.
The father, confused, looks around and says to his daughter, "I don't know most of these people. Some I've never seen before. Where are our friends, family, and neighbors?"
The daughter calmly replies, "The people who came didn't come for a party. They came because they thought we were in trouble. These are the people who care about us. These are the ones who deserve to celebrate with us."
Lesson: The ones who don't show up when you're struggling don't deserve to be with you when you succeed.

Mbasitwa

12/01/2026

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08/01/2026

31/12/2025

29/12/2025

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