The ebbing rays of the sun
On the horizon as it goes down
With dreams and wishes
Of a better tomorrow as it rises
That I may be a better childe
And glow in my pride
Lets give way to the dark
So we may revel in the light when it comes back
So try and read my mind
Be surprised not by what you find
For I like the dark
That comes with dusk
Monday, 17 June 2013
Thursday, 25 April 2013
SOLITUDE
I believe I am artistic, I see things in ways many people don’t, I find fun in the driest of circumstances which probably contributes to why my friends think am insane, I love my space and solitude which is why I live alone, my house is my sanctuary, my peace, my get away! Am not an introvert either, on the contrary am quite outgoing but then what’s to deny me a little quiet? Somewhere I ca light a toke ad trip ad dream and write.
Whenever am high, I do a lot of reading, my favorite author is unarguably Stephen king, that guy writes like he is possessed! I have followed his characters through all their adventures, cried with them, laughed with them, died with some of them but never have I met a character who intrigues me a much as Roland of the dark tower, that is my best sequel, another different story by a different author struggles to keep up, the sequel of Morgon Prince of Hed. Will Roland perhaps become the high one? Detached from reality, that is what I call escaping from the drama that is real life and finding that one place where you simply don’t give a fuck! Social media comes in handy at times like these, twitter more especially, I have met wonderful people on twitter, some can be classified as simply mad, yet others purely interesting and others are just loose strands of fate that brush each other. So I tweet a lot, not enough though!
That I have to explain a joke is just hopeless, that you can’t get sarcasm, you can burn in hell for all in care, these are my rants and raves, that you think the word rave only means going out drinking cheap vodka and passing out is a joke, grin from ear to ear, there you go.
Expression! I can’t always watch my tongue, the rate at which my mind wanders away when am having a conversation and the things I can relate that conversation to. Curse words thrown in liberally and well, welcome to the high speech, if that is what king must have meant! Not everyone’s cup of tea, go read a bible somewhere. After all, Delilah got to Samson, dint she? Honey in the carcass of the lion. Plain white T’s, hey there Delilah. Sweet name by the way.
A landscape, a tree hanging on a river bank, the sun is setting, under the tree sitting on rock are three people, and one of them is sitting on a rock with his back against the tree. The others seem to be having this dreamy look. In their hands they are holding rolls of bhang, puffs of smoke going up. Am reminded of Bilbo Baggins. On the top of the tree to towards the river, a mocking bird is flying off!
I discovered rock late in my formative years, as my teens were ebbing away! I fell in love, though I did love the cranberries at first! Now I listen to indie rock and even my fellow rock fans think I’ve gone bonkers, but according to me that is music with culture, deep rooted and so ancient you can feel the first children weeping for life, the type of music you could be listening to if a Stark told you in a solemn tone that winter is coming.
Peals of silence tug at my brain!
Revelry
Kings of leon
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Grave yards
A common sight in almost every kenyan home one vists! An eyesore at that too! In some compounds, there will be one grave yet in others a numerous number, the largest number of graves i have seen so far in one compound is 12! Astounding! Lying side by side were six and below them another six. In some places you are bound to encounter a deserted coumpound with graves standing watch, weeds grow all over and are especially rich on the graves giving an eeirie look to the whole place! Yet in other places it is a happy family setting boasting of just a single grave!
What never ceases to amaze me though, is the proximity of the graves to the main house!
I come from the Kisii people whose culture dictates that, when a man passes away, he should be buried on the right side of his main house and his wife by his left side. I never knew this untill my grandfather passed away! His grave is almost directly adjacent to the door and when you get out of the house it is the first thing you see, God grant eternal rest to his bones! Old man gave me my first sip of alcohol. That aside, This is the case in almost all kisii families! A grave by the house, or at times graves. I draw from the Kisii community because as a member, i know it well, i have seen how the luo and luhya bury there dead. Incase my kisii friends start getting worked up, please understand that this is just a reference! Why could you want to wake up every morning and see the remains of someone you cared for lying outside? Is it memories you want or dont u just want to let go? Let the Dead rest! It doesnt matter where they have to rest but let them rest! Afterall what choice do they have in the matter? Incase you are scared o ghosts, well, newsflash! They will understand too when they botice that they are encroaching away all the land to make room for graves!
Soon, if a care is not taken, we will turn the land into one big graveyard in the name of sticking to culture! No one culture is stagnant! Culture progresses and changes over time. It is high time kenyans realized that and started burying their dead in cemetaries! Not that i want to play "mwacha mila". Oh i love my culture, but times have changed and the world has moved on. We no longer wear loin clothes and walk with our bossoms bared for all kin and sundry, except for our cousins up north! Now that they have oil i do pray they learn how to dress! Had we been such sticklers of culture, we could still be half naked folks going about their lives comfortably! We could still be living in smoky huts and sleeping on skins! So if we put all this aside in the name of cultural progression, why cant we do the same with graves?
I have heard this one arguement posed evertime i raise this issue. I also think that it is very lame! The arguement goes that when the dead are buried in their compounds, it is a sighn of respect and love! Does it mean that those who cremate their dead love them any less? In any case the love you claim to be giving the dead should have been lavished on them when they were alive. Not when they are with their maker or wherever it is folks go to when they pass on!
Ghost town
Shiny toy guns
What never ceases to amaze me though, is the proximity of the graves to the main house!
I come from the Kisii people whose culture dictates that, when a man passes away, he should be buried on the right side of his main house and his wife by his left side. I never knew this untill my grandfather passed away! His grave is almost directly adjacent to the door and when you get out of the house it is the first thing you see, God grant eternal rest to his bones! Old man gave me my first sip of alcohol. That aside, This is the case in almost all kisii families! A grave by the house, or at times graves. I draw from the Kisii community because as a member, i know it well, i have seen how the luo and luhya bury there dead. Incase my kisii friends start getting worked up, please understand that this is just a reference! Why could you want to wake up every morning and see the remains of someone you cared for lying outside? Is it memories you want or dont u just want to let go? Let the Dead rest! It doesnt matter where they have to rest but let them rest! Afterall what choice do they have in the matter? Incase you are scared o ghosts, well, newsflash! They will understand too when they botice that they are encroaching away all the land to make room for graves!
Soon, if a care is not taken, we will turn the land into one big graveyard in the name of sticking to culture! No one culture is stagnant! Culture progresses and changes over time. It is high time kenyans realized that and started burying their dead in cemetaries! Not that i want to play "mwacha mila". Oh i love my culture, but times have changed and the world has moved on. We no longer wear loin clothes and walk with our bossoms bared for all kin and sundry, except for our cousins up north! Now that they have oil i do pray they learn how to dress! Had we been such sticklers of culture, we could still be half naked folks going about their lives comfortably! We could still be living in smoky huts and sleeping on skins! So if we put all this aside in the name of cultural progression, why cant we do the same with graves?
I have heard this one arguement posed evertime i raise this issue. I also think that it is very lame! The arguement goes that when the dead are buried in their compounds, it is a sighn of respect and love! Does it mean that those who cremate their dead love them any less? In any case the love you claim to be giving the dead should have been lavished on them when they were alive. Not when they are with their maker or wherever it is folks go to when they pass on!
Ghost town
Shiny toy guns
Monday, 4 March 2013
I VOTED.
All the way, from the deserts in the north to the swamps at coast and the marshes in the west, Kenyans voted. As early as four am, some were already at their respective polling stations waiting patiently to cast their vote. In some estates some youths were blowing vuvuzelas and chanting slogans encouraging people to go vote. There was talk of some touts refusing to carry you if you did not have the voters mark on you! In the scorching march sun, all braved the smothering heat and queued, lines stretching and snaking as long as a kilometer! Still as if not enough, others braved the evening cold! A mother delivered a baby in one queue. The baby was promptly named 'AMANI'. Another lady collapsed and died! She was old. No one should die in an queue. No one!
So far, in the history of Kenyan voting, this election has produced the largest voter turnout! Is it that the population has gone up, IEBC actually did its work or have Kenyans finally decided that they cant afford not to vote? Maybe it is a mix of all that! Perhaps Kenyans want change, perhaps we just want to test out how the devolution government turns out! One thing i can proudly say without any fear of contradiction whatsoever is, we want something new! We are tired of the 'naomba serikali, 'haki yetu' slogans, we are tired of having squatters living in our backyards, we are tired of watching our youth turn into meaningless idlers because of unemployment! We are tired of scandals in the government on who has embezzled funds, we are tired of the numerous commissions that get to investigate ghost cases that more often than not bear no fruit!
Which gets me to the question 'do you know why you voted?' Were just swept along by the crowds, do u have your interests at heart? Do u think whomever you voted in will fulfill or at least address your issues? I know of people whom to the last day did not have any idea why they wanted to vote, i know of some people who said they could not vote because they saw no one deserving enough for their votes, I know of people who were swept into some parties because of their friends and because they did not want to feel left out! I also know of some die hard party campaigners. Noise makers really, The ones who will find u peacefully quiet enjoying your time and start selling u points on their candidate, not caring about yours. "So, why did you vote?"
Kenya is a young nation, As such it has the opportunity of learning from other nations mistakes! It can not a afford to learn from its mistakes, The international world is watching! I hate that by the way, everyone know how difficult it is to ape big brother! Especially if he was the type who aced everything! We are trying to compare ourselves with countries that date back centuries! Britain, France, America etc. Countries whose history is more than one can ever read in a lifetime. Then there is the pressure to do things the 'right way' (read 'their way'). Cant they just let us find our own way? We are barely half a century old with barely any experience in voting at all! Elections held five times do not really qualify as experience to me, If a job were to be advertised and one of the qualifications was work experience, well Kenya could lose out!
Am writing this with fingers crossed, My prayers that Kenyans don't decide to go medieval and replay the 2007/2008 nightmare! That i will wake up tomorrow and have a new president, a new senator, a new governor a new woman rep etc., That all kin and sundry will flock to Uhuru Park to watch the inauguration of our new president! Above all I Pray that everyone accepts the new president with no qualms! Kenya is a strong country, we will survive!
Survivor-muse
So far, in the history of Kenyan voting, this election has produced the largest voter turnout! Is it that the population has gone up, IEBC actually did its work or have Kenyans finally decided that they cant afford not to vote? Maybe it is a mix of all that! Perhaps Kenyans want change, perhaps we just want to test out how the devolution government turns out! One thing i can proudly say without any fear of contradiction whatsoever is, we want something new! We are tired of the 'naomba serikali, 'haki yetu' slogans, we are tired of having squatters living in our backyards, we are tired of watching our youth turn into meaningless idlers because of unemployment! We are tired of scandals in the government on who has embezzled funds, we are tired of the numerous commissions that get to investigate ghost cases that more often than not bear no fruit!
Which gets me to the question 'do you know why you voted?' Were just swept along by the crowds, do u have your interests at heart? Do u think whomever you voted in will fulfill or at least address your issues? I know of people whom to the last day did not have any idea why they wanted to vote, i know of some people who said they could not vote because they saw no one deserving enough for their votes, I know of people who were swept into some parties because of their friends and because they did not want to feel left out! I also know of some die hard party campaigners. Noise makers really, The ones who will find u peacefully quiet enjoying your time and start selling u points on their candidate, not caring about yours. "So, why did you vote?"
Kenya is a young nation, As such it has the opportunity of learning from other nations mistakes! It can not a afford to learn from its mistakes, The international world is watching! I hate that by the way, everyone know how difficult it is to ape big brother! Especially if he was the type who aced everything! We are trying to compare ourselves with countries that date back centuries! Britain, France, America etc. Countries whose history is more than one can ever read in a lifetime. Then there is the pressure to do things the 'right way' (read 'their way'). Cant they just let us find our own way? We are barely half a century old with barely any experience in voting at all! Elections held five times do not really qualify as experience to me, If a job were to be advertised and one of the qualifications was work experience, well Kenya could lose out!
Am writing this with fingers crossed, My prayers that Kenyans don't decide to go medieval and replay the 2007/2008 nightmare! That i will wake up tomorrow and have a new president, a new senator, a new governor a new woman rep etc., That all kin and sundry will flock to Uhuru Park to watch the inauguration of our new president! Above all I Pray that everyone accepts the new president with no qualms! Kenya is a strong country, we will survive!
Survivor-muse
Sunday, 17 February 2013
STRANGERS
He called for pity, It was 9 in the evening and he was lost, but he had an idea he was lost. Traffick in Nairobi can be tricky! He was supposed to board number 33 for kenyatta hospital mbagathi road and kenyatta estate, he had taken number 33 for pipeline. He did not have any cash on him. He was asking for direction so he could walk back to town and head to Mbagathi hospital. He was as arrogant as only an ignorant person can be. Insisting that he was capable of walking all the way!
A mother is boarding a matatu, "manyanga" people no longer use that word but i find it delectable. No 45 Githu Githurai, stage ni mbao, (20 bob). The tout is shouting, dressed in baggy clothes, oversized clothes is what i see and cheweing on a miraa twig, he fits the part. Perfectly. In the lazy tuesday afternoon, no one pays the lady a second glance, she is just part of the backdrop that is Nairobi and no one gives a damn really! But she is about to steal the show for a little while! "My child, wooi my child!" She suddenly starts wailing. At first no one listens, then the ever omnipresent urchins move towards her, next the touts follow and soon a little crowd has collected around her. She is crying frantically! In between her sobs the story is told, its a one-liner really but by the end of the day, it will have more versions than a folk lore! Her baby boy is lost, he was right behind her, yes she crossed the busy Ronald Ngara Road with him, he is six years old, he was wearing a scooby doo t-shirt! As the crowd loses intrest, two cops materialize, the crowd melts away. No one wants to be a witness and spend countless unproductive hours in court when they could be equally useless elsewhere! The lady is escorted towards central to record her statement!
Sitted in the corner seat of the back row, The infamous 'city hoppa' finds it's way in the congested traffic! Gods! its sunday afternoon! Its only in Nairobi where there is a traffic snarl up on a sunday afternoon. Can it get any worse? The sweltering heat does not let up, the company is unbearable, there is a little baby cring somewhere at the front! It is in this lapses of sanity that i get the tale, told from a guy i left back in high school in form three, now he has grown a beard, am still beardless, he even has a wife. Am impressed. "Mwanaume ni efort!" I tell him and clap him on the back! "That guy has a death wish!" Am pulled from going insane by the noise and heat by this statement. I snap back into reality! He has a neighbour who has committed suicide twice over a chick who according to him (my friend) is not worth a rats arse! "The first time we took him to the 'hosi' and we used our own cash to treat him, the second time too, if he pulls one like that again, ill just ignore him and let him die!" I stare back in silence trying to picture why one could attempt suicide twice! And how my friend could let him die! If left to me, id look for a whip and flog the guy all the way through Eastlands! Then the heat comes back in a wave and i stick head out of the window to feel the breeze, unfortunately, there is no breeze, only the putrid smell that is muthurwa market hits my nostrills! Ok, i now see why one could want to die! I turn back to the tale, After our suicidal guy got out of hospital the second time, he lost his job working as 'mtu wa mkono' the landlord locked his door and the girl whom he was murdering himself for wont take him in. My friend is feeding three mouths, and he is just a student! The traffic finally lets up and the city hoppa groans on its way to join Jogoo road! Thankfully the traffic is light! My friend tells me about this new phone he wants to buy. All talk of the suicidal guy is forgoten. In no minute at all, we are remiscing about old times! Highschool! Nostlagia kicks in! The city hoppa lumbers on!
The beatles echo away! Yellow submarine!
Thursday, 7 February 2013
BACK AGAIN!
Freedom
Not for anything
But because i can be free
The monkey on my back
Getting a little fat for comfort
Freedom taunts at the corner of the mind
Pulling little strings of conscience
Then again
Am finally writing
Monkey on my back or not
I could ululate if I could
Little David did in giant goliath with a sling
Big guy must have wondered what stung
We even had a song
The bonds are slipping loose
Like the old man of the river
All i need is good wine
Then the monkey on my back is gone
Just like old man of the river
Freedom!
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
MOTHERS
I was brought up by a mother who held a cane in one hand and love on the other. Talk of the right hand not knowing what the left does. Automatically it follows that i should share the same plight of a child who is being whipped. In most cases, i got whipped for my mistakes and some were not but were meant as a lesson all the same.
The other day i'm walking to my house. to get to my house you have to follow this path that has trees growing on either side of it. Some of the roots show above the ground and if u are not careful you will definitely stumble. This lady was walking ahead of me and she had a little boy barely three years walking slightly behind her to the side. She was also chatting to another woman and so busy that she was not minding the child. what made me take interest in the child was the fact that the child was walking half naked. He was only wearing a T-shirt. that took me back to when i was a kid.
Then the kid caught his foot in one of the roots and went sprawling on the ground. He started crying. The mother turned around arms akimbo clearly not overjoyed to be interrupted so rudely from her story with the other lady. I supposes she told the kid to get up. I did not understand her language as she spoke in vernacular the baby continued crying. by then i had of course stopped to watch. As any normal mother could do(i suppose) was to help the child up and reassure him, she dint do that. what she did next hit me with so much surprise i almost cried.
She picked a stick that was lying next to the kid and started beating the poor kid. Still the kid was on the ground. Now the cries of the child which had been soft cries of help turned into screams. You can imagine a little kid screaming at the top of his lungs.
I was shocked stiff!
Who does that? I asked myself. When the mother saw that the kid was not quietening down she picked him roughly and slung him on her back like a sack of potatoes. Then she and the other woman continued walking as if nothing had happened and within a beat they were laughing.
WHAT HAD THE KID DONE?
The other day i'm walking to my house. to get to my house you have to follow this path that has trees growing on either side of it. Some of the roots show above the ground and if u are not careful you will definitely stumble. This lady was walking ahead of me and she had a little boy barely three years walking slightly behind her to the side. She was also chatting to another woman and so busy that she was not minding the child. what made me take interest in the child was the fact that the child was walking half naked. He was only wearing a T-shirt. that took me back to when i was a kid.
Then the kid caught his foot in one of the roots and went sprawling on the ground. He started crying. The mother turned around arms akimbo clearly not overjoyed to be interrupted so rudely from her story with the other lady. I supposes she told the kid to get up. I did not understand her language as she spoke in vernacular the baby continued crying. by then i had of course stopped to watch. As any normal mother could do(i suppose) was to help the child up and reassure him, she dint do that. what she did next hit me with so much surprise i almost cried.
She picked a stick that was lying next to the kid and started beating the poor kid. Still the kid was on the ground. Now the cries of the child which had been soft cries of help turned into screams. You can imagine a little kid screaming at the top of his lungs.
I was shocked stiff!
Who does that? I asked myself. When the mother saw that the kid was not quietening down she picked him roughly and slung him on her back like a sack of potatoes. Then she and the other woman continued walking as if nothing had happened and within a beat they were laughing.
WHAT HAD THE KID DONE?
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