Life, Love

SHE TALKS IN HER SLEEP


I watch her sleep.
She starts to murmur and licks her lips.
She has found herself in a dream so deep.
And gently my hand up her arm creeps.
Her mental storm proves to be steep.
For she suddenly shudders and on her back flips.
I smile because I know she is mine to keep.
But suddenly she speaks and my heart skips.
She talks about a guy and I hear a warning beep.
Describe his virtues and my heart dips.
I roll over and lie alone in a heap.
She continues and the cup of jealousy my heart sips.
Oh unlucky day, she talks in her sleep.
With words so sweet to another, my soul she rips.

I wake up the next day and go to work.
Convince myself that I was mistaken.
Maybe I lost my hearing in the dark.
This I do while my eyes misten.
I spend the day feeling like a jerk.
Feeling all low and down beaten.
In the light, doubt creates a crack.
And I become as curious as a lost kitten.
The devils urges me on with songs sweet as a lark.
And I follow his path already beaten.
This is the day I will find out all her murk.
And towards home my legs I hasten.
What awful news she talks in her sleep.
The movement of her lips no longer leaves me smitten.

I get home ready for a divorce.
But asleep she is and already speaking.
I hear the soft sound of her voice.
That just yesterday made me want to sing.
She talks of how he is her only boss.
And how she is a queen to this king.
At the door I take a pause.
Take five more minutes before I end this thing.
To all other things my ears I close.
And with hate I hear about this being.
She recalls of how in his arms she likes to doze.
And how he gives her a heavenly feeling.
Her clothes out the door I am ready to toss.
For no more do I find her appealing.
She describes his body and I’m at a loss.
My short temper quickly hits the ceiling.
She talks of his house and lack of flaws.
I give a smirk and move in for the killing.
She suddenly screams his first name and I lower my claws.
For I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
I move closer thinking it a coincidence.
She stops talking as if she’s listening.
My heart thumps in my chest as I am dying from suspense.
Expectantly waiting for her to continue naming.
She says the last two names and I almost weep.
I double check the name on my passport.
I feel love into my heart seep.
As I remember she’s all I’ve got.
I sink down to the floor, bending at the hip.
She sleeps soundly on the bed I bought
Dead to the world as my ring I grip.
I smile and thank God, she talks in her sleep.

Kimemia ’10

Politricks

Jury has seized her


Friends, Kenyans, tourists, lend me your ears.

I come to bury the media, not to praise it.

The evil that men do lives after them.

The good is oft interred with their bonuses.

So let it be with the media.

The noble government.

Hath told you that the media was ambitious.

If it were so, it was a grievous fault.

And grievously hath the media answered it.

Here, under leave of the cabinet and the rest…

For the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

So are they all, all honourable men.

Come I to speak in the media’s funeral.

It was my friend, faithful and just to me.

But the Cabinet says, it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

It has brought many captives to Parliament from Nyayo House.

Who wise words did the voters mind fill.

Did this in the media seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, the media has wept.

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Yet the Cabinet says it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

You all did see, that on Kenya’s Ground Zero.

I did offer her a handkerchief as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Which she did thrice refuse.

Was this ambition?

Yet the Cabinet says it was ambitious.

And the Cabinet is an honourable faction.

I speak not to disprove what the government signed.

But I am here to speak for what i do know.

You all did love it once, not without a cause.

What cause withholds you then, to mourn for it?

O judgement! Thou art fled to brutish beasts.

And men have lost their reason.

Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with the media.

And I must pause till it come back to me.

Kimemia ’09

Life, Love, The Teenage Years

Lost Art, Incomplete posts – A step back into history


I am a hoarder. Of plastic containers from Chicken Inn and those from the Juice and Smoothie corner at Sarit’s food court. But worst or rather best of all, I am a hoarder of books, writing pads etc. This is how as I cleaned my bedroom from an OCD hit, I found some long lost poems I wrote in another lifetime, some a bit too erotic, others incomplete and others just plain old boring.

Messed up handwriting and some pieces written in IT class, others in B.A classes. :)
Messed up handwriting and some pieces written in IT class, others in B.A classes. 🙂

For the next few days, I shall post one of the poems I found and try bring a new ending to the incomplete ones. Take the journey with me. Before I tasted beer, when I was an IT geek and most importantly, when I was an idealist. Untainted by the harsh realities of love and life. The tag will be YoungCrow.

Deep and overstood, Dionysus, Haiku

Haiku Beast Day 11


Closed eyes as I show the three ladies how to lay the pipe.

Mary, Jane and Molly are not so new at this.

They beat me off at Dre’s; all ten of them.

Deep and overstood, Dionysus, Haiku

Haiku Beast Day 10


Climbed the Darn Hill.

And as I breathe out the Sweet Menthol.

She steps out of the Embassy in Aspen.

Uncategorized

Tying my lesso


Even as I finish writing this piece, an e-mail comes in.

A three year old girl was raped. By two men. For four hours.

Enough.

chanyado's avatarchanyado

What I remember about that night were the sounds. The scraping of the bed being dragged across the floor. The insistent pounding of fists at the door. The thudding of my heart echoing in my ears. The muttering of prayer tumbling out of my mouth in a stream of whispering.

They had come after me.

Earlier that evening the driver of the matatu I was travelling in kicked us out slurring, ‘nimechoka. Tokeni.’ Though we tried to protest, his erratic swerving had left us jittery and we felt we were safer walking than being at the mercy of this drunken driver. So several hundred metres away from Oyugis, we started walking. I was on my way to a funeral and was carrying a huge white box overflowing with flowers, stuffed with the wreaths I had been asked to bring from Kisumu.

The walk is a blur to me, but I…

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Culture, Life, Love

#RedressForOurWomen “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” ― Virginia Woolf


I have tried to calm down on this matter for as long as I could. This was to ensure that my thoughts and my opinion would not be lost among a cacophony of irate swear words and insults. I have really tried but still I feel that in no way is this going to be pretty. If you try to say otherwise of my intended objective, there’s a possibility I will mow you down. Physically or metaphorically.

Today is The International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. I am not just writing this piece because of this fact. I am writing because as of last night when I saw the third video of a woman being stripped in these very streets of Nairobi, I could not stomach it anymore. At first there was shame, shame that I had not talked of this sooner. Shame that I, like most naive Kenyans had believed the monsters and the hoodlums would be afraid of the law and not repeat such actions anymore. Shame that I had a belief in a system that has not given me any reason to trust in it. Shame, that I was a current generation man in this our beloved country.

Soon-after though, the anger came, the rage was boiling, my temples were pounding so hard and finally my ears became hot as if a true reflection of the white hot seething wrath that erupted from within the deepest of my element. I was angry and I still am. This last video, was a rape. How long ago was it that somebody compared the first video to a rape?? And now less than a week since #MyDressMyChoice the hooligans were at it in a worse manner. Inserting their fingers and touching a naked, bruised and beaten woman on the street.I am sorry but there are no better words to use and even if I did have them I would not use them. It is no longer the time to share videos that keep humiliating the victims. No, it is time to react, to fight back. If my writing annoys you as much as the videos would have, even better. She had to cower under a vehicle at which point they started yelling for the driver to move the car. These people are a virus. One of the men I noticed had a wedding band on his hand. His shirt was quite unique and I wondered; “Is there a wife somewhere watching this and knowing that that’s the man she chose to spend her life with??”

I am angry. At the person who just stood there recording these clips. At the men who were not part of the crime but just watched as all of it transpired. You will tell me that it is not safe for them to interfere. Did what was happening to the woman look safe to you?? Blows and kicks hurt and yes most are afraid of death. But be a man goddammit!! Stand up for the weak. This should be inherent in your nature. All you need to think of is how that person on the street could be your wife, your sister or your mother. And your fright will certainly change into fight. If you don’t do this, then the clips that will keep circulating will be of the despicable, implacable pieces of feculence winning and creating more fear in the society. They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. We are not even close to overturning this. But we have to try, one by one we have to stand up to these villains. The videos circulating must be of men and women standing up to face these fiends. One video will inspire some other people to do the same. We can use the same medium they have used to create something positive. Here is an example:https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=511834858916582&set=vb.100002702181334&type=2&theater

I don’t care if anyone stands with me. I shall stand alone. We are not so worse off that the evil people in the society have become more than the good ones. We are certainly running low on the brave. But we need to remember that courage is not the absence of fear but the ability to conquer it. We need to remember as one Desmond Tutu said: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

You are probably wondering why I am angry at all of you. All of you men. Inclusive of myself. You will talk back and say, you have not been a witness to such and you would have helped if you could. But no dear brother in negligence of duty. You probably have been privy to either of the below:

 

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  • A friend slapping a “rude” girl in the club or on the streets.
  • Your dad, uncle, grandfather, neighbour whipping his “manner-less” wife.
  • You teacher pinching the thighs or chests of girl students.
  • Your workmate or classmate “spanking” the behind of a female workmate.
  • You have walked by as street kids cornered a lady alone in the street so she could give money forcefully.
  • etc

These “cultural”, “innocent”, “disciplinary” actions are what has led to this. The belief that women are here to be controlled by you as a man. That men lead and women follow. That the only way to win an intellectual discussion against a woman is to make use of your stronger physical attributes. These men causing this current mayhem are just fully infected cells of the societal body. You have become a carrier. To heal the body, we will have to start by healing ourselves. We have tried peaceful protests. We tweeted and sent all manner of messages on social media. Now, we have to remember that it is faster to stop a bleeding wound with a hot iron than with bandages upon bandages.

I am calling you and you and you. I am an Alumni of the UoN and time and time again, SONU has been accused of conducting and effecting nonsensical strikes. At this point in time I wonder: How about we stand for something worth fighting for? Our women.

 

Stop-domestic-violence-zero-tolerance-women-abuse-29950953-622-476

 

“Everyone has a responsibility to prevent and end violence against women and girls, starting by challenging the culture of discrimination that allows it to continue.”

Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon

Uncategorized

A letter to the daughter of the land


Simiyu Simiyu Wambaya's avatarTHE TALES OF A MODERN VILLAGER

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To the daughter of the land,

The one at whose hut my heart stops.My famed bukusu darling.Mine truly.My mother’s daughter -in -law.The mother of my fourteen unborn children.My good one.I salute you.

You are the longest crush I have ever had in my life;from when I first saw you to right now.Seeing as you are the one I shall grow old with,I have decided to start bonding with you this soon through this old school letter.I acknowledge that I wrote you a lot of such letters during your long days in primary and secondary school in Kamasielo though I did that in broken English.I am taking you back to those our good moments sweet one.

The aim of writing this letter is to keep you aware of some development in my life and to also let you know of my plans for the both of us.You see,they taught us that…

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Uncategorized

Close encounters


#IAmKenyan, Deep and overstood, Life

STRICT POETRY


Divine is the calling you have received.
Ngartia can’t you see what we’ve got here.
They feed on our sweat and Tear Drops
And they are still spreading hii Ebola na Virusi Mbaya.
We are no more than street kids, sisi ndio fans na ‘Dorphan’ can attest.
Kibali hata ukikasirikika kubali wewe wafaa kuwa mmoja wa shepherds.
Maji haifiki kwa Slum na bado twajiita Wafalme
Wanadisrespect our ladies wakisahau mungu wetu ni Msooh.
Get down sio kumaanisha tudance bali ni kuhepa bullets.
Mistari zetu haziwaumi na ndio maana Veon yuajaribu kugusa Zion.
It’s time we stood up and demanded Samo accountability.
Rights wataka na bado umejificha kwa kushoto.
Umelalia FlowflaNi na sakafu wailamba.
Utapashwa moto na Kuni Mbichi moshi itafanya hata G-cho Pevu lilie.
Hujapewa talanta ndio uikalie.
Ndio Mungu Yunasi na Imani itatupeleka mbali.
Wewe ni Mwafrika na ni sawa uko na ‘Black Skillz’.
Lakini wewe si mtumwa wewe ni Jemedari.
Mufasa tusonge mbele haraka kwa kimombo wasema Move Faster.
Na hii baridi bado wanaitisha more fire sijui tuta Blaze
Lazima uyapange unayoyataka, ikiwezekana hata unaweza Sketch.
Ambia serikali, walafi na wakorofi hii ni Nnoiz necessary.
The necessity of our abilities has given us a chance to be heroes.
We do not have to be like Zorro, El Poet has the same pen skills.
Yes they will attack us, they will incarcerate us and a few more might Dayan.
They will divide you into tribes, tell you Man-njoro is not your own and make him your Nemesis.
But you shall not be alone, more will come yaani Monaja.
Mola atatusaidia ndio tutawapiga hiyo Checkmate.
Huu ndio wasaa wa kuuliza Kwani? Na tutaanzia WAPI.
Kilio cha Wanjiku chaitikwa na Sauti ya Fatuma.
Usifuate nyuki Asali imeshafichwa.
Afadhali you become the Poeticbee.
Float your wordplay, sting with your truths.
Misri haturudi Tena.
Sitaulizia jina langu tena oh Nana ndio nitaimba nikiwangoja.
Sina haja ya Shukrani kwa kuwaangazia hii Nuru.
NumberEight haitafika Kibra, yatuelekeza kwa siku njema iliyoko na wali bora.
Fikra zisikusumbue bora sisi wote tuwe InThync.
Jela zikifunguliwa na mrushwe ndani.
Wakiuliza nani aliwafunza kuimba juu ya kuiba toka kwa matapeli.
Waelekeze kwa jambazi mkuu, nitawafahamisha kuwa mimi ni Bandit.