Category: Kenya

Culture, French, Kenya, Life, Love, Prose, Travel

Odysseys, junkets and business trips: woes and pleasures

The Divine Bandit

I try hard not to smile but I'm happy..clap along...no? ppshhhh
I try hard not to smile but I’m happy..clap along…no? ppshhhh

Ever had an idea hit you and actually makes you wonder how dumb you must have been minutes before it occurred? No? Happens to me every 6 months as I look back on my life. And I laugh at how smart I thought I was then. This is what recently happened when I realized that I have never written of my travels despite having visited a couple of countries. I am not yet the “Up in the Air” type but still I have been to India. Yes I like mentioning that because in my planned travels as I grew up, that was never in the plans. I have passed through some really hot (and not in the beautiful kinda hot way though they are) places like Qatar and the UAE. I left my jaw at the Ethiopian airport. I wonder how the Ethiopian men maintain their sanity with that much beauty floating around them. No wonder they are always doing long distance running. One has to get a way to get rid of the dhaaaasttt you know. 😉 And I have been to countries where my French versatility really came as a great help. But never have I ever been at a loss like I am where I am now. To be surrounded by people whose only knowledge of English are the words yes and no. Not really their fault. I should have learnt Portuguese. But for now I have to contend with loads of sign language and “Portuguese-lised French”.

My woes started as soon as we landed, it was funny at first but then it became very annoying. We landed in the middle of the airport. About 2 kilometres from the actual airport. (I am not sure about the distance, I have said before on this blog how messed up I am at estimating distances). You see the thing is, we had come in the huge Boeing 777-300ER and the Luanda airport could not accommodate it till some planes moved. So we had to stay right smack in the middle of the runway and wait. But tell that to the travelling group of about 40 Chinese guys. No. They stood up and started getting their luggage and heading to the exits. This was despite the explicit instructions from the pilot to stay seated. The flight attendants had to get each one of them back to their seats but 10 minutes later they were up again and at the doors. I laughed my heart out to the chagrin of the cabin crew who were very annoyed by now. I kept wondering why they were in a hurry to get off the plane. Was Angola moving and I didn’t know? I am rarely in a hurry when I have no control of the factors influencing time.

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We finally made it into the airport and we got to queue as usual at the passport control/immigration. I have never really cared which is which. I had 10 of the Chinese clique ahead of me, fast talking in Mandarin, (I think) while carrying bags so big they looked like they were KDF in training. I try not to judge or be prejudicial based on race, tribes etc. But something happened that had me chewing on my spectacles (yes, I still say that instead of glasses) to avoid spilling the bile that built up in me. I had more venom on my tongue than a cobra that has its flute hypnotist playing the “Toklezea” tune. You see as we got in, they were checking for Yellow Fever cards before ushering you to passport control. Many of the Chinese guys did not have theirs or had put them way too deep in their big bags. (Yes, that happens to someone with so many fanny packs, they look like they have the Batman utility belt. 🙂 ) Anyway, most of them were behind the 150 t0 200 or so other passengers. Soon some of them started coming and checking with the 10 ahead of us (you know language barrier and all, yes I thought I had it bad till you see a Mandarin vs Portuguese conversation). I don’t know how it happened, neither do the other passengers as no one complained. But 15 minutes later, all the 40 Chinese guys were ahead of us. SAY WHAAAT??!! That single moment almost made me hate a whole race. But I am a pretty rational person so I simmered it down when I remembered just 4 years ago I had a really huge crush on one of their ladies. 🙂

 

That aside, for the first two days here, I had to drink juice yet I really wanted water at the hotel. You all know “Water thirst” is unquenchable any other way. Poor me. Only one receptionist speaks English and he works during the day when I’m off to work. Finally my Wi-Fi worked and I Googled the word. I felt silly. Again wondering how stupid I was 2 days ago. Aqua would easily become agua. SMH. But that was not to be the end of my woes, coming from the office very late at night one day meant, I had to take a motorbike as the actual taxis are very expensive, like a 100 dollar expensive and they offer no receipts. This would mean reconciliation wars back in Kenya so I opted for the cheaper 200 Kwanza option. A friend from work negotiated the price and told the driver/rider the hotel name then he left. So 5 minutes later, we are cruising on a highway, no helmets on and me holding the motorbike carrier so hard I almost pull off the mesh. My Kenyan man genes can’t allow me to put my hands around a man’s waist. I’d rather die (almost quite literally as that is what would have happened if we hit a pothole or bump). But I was more worried about the guy not having gotten the right hotel name and then I would have ended up disappearing in Angola and working in a diamond and oil mine to save enough money to get back to Kenya. Of course my family would want me back but I guess the more interesting search party would be Sanaa Book Club running tags like #BringBackTheMane #KeepTheBandit on Twitter. This might seem like a joke but it almost happened in Vadodara, India. Having been to more urban provinces like New Delhi and Bangalore. I ended up wandering past the “English literacy” zone. So I was stranded outside a market, jewellery, sun glasses, saris in a paper bag trying to explain to 5 tuk tuk guys where my hotel was. Never felt tears sting the eyes so much but I couldn’t cry. They finally flowed from relief later at the hotel as I hurriedly packed for a flight that was at 1 AM if I remember well. I had got back to the hotel at 11 PM having cleared at the market by 7 PM.

Is this what Anto Neo Soul is singing about?? lol.. Sari sari sari sari...
Is this what Anto Neo Soul is singing about?? lol.. Sari sari sari sari…
I got late being a celeb. They thought I was from the States. :)
I got late being a celeb. They thought I was from the States. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They tell you that certain gestures are vulgar in certain cultures. No one told me about English words (I thought they all meant the same everywhere) and so surprise…..surprise when everyone looked at me shocked and in disbelief when I asked about the clubbing scene. So apparently, a club in Luanda is a brothel or are brothel like. And not chips funga brothel-like. Like naked or 1/16th dressed people kinda brothel. House parties are the norm here for most young people. I am yet to confirm this. Nairobi men would thrive in this kind of environment. That is unless the below happens but I hear that is rare here. 🙂

Phone yake imeenda mteja... lmao
Phone yake imeenda mteja… lmao

 

One thing I have learnt from travelling is that home is not just where the heart is. No. Whenever I travel I miss my country so much and I’m nostalgic to the point that the “Bonoko” audio file I have on my phone provides solace. Home is where I’m understood.Home is where my jokes are laughed at. Home is where my family is. Home is where my best and oldest friends are. Home is where I love with a fierceness that scares even me. With the corruption, the lies, the blood, the tears, the potholes, the afandes. I love my home. Blood will flow for the moment but we shall be peaceful again. Home is in my prayers.  Home is where I love so many people even those I don’t tell, those I can’t tell, those I won’t tell. Home is Kenya. Home is 4 days away. 😀

And now for some shots of the worldly me. 🙂

 

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MVP…. 😛
Brrrrrrr.......
Brrrrrrr…….

 

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It’s like I fell in a Vaseline bucket… 😦
Awesome team...worldly..
Awesome team…worldly..
The gym does not know timezones..
The gym does not know timezones..

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Never felt like such a pimp...hehehe
Never felt like such a pimp…hehehe
Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Kenya, Life, Politricks

No Angel

The Divine Bandit

Another one from TDB and his grandson

Doing something to change the world.

Still on hold.

Not so bold.

It’s like am waiting till I get some gold.

Nod like I can’t do it in my current mode.

My ideology to the public ensure its sold.

Not rich enough, powerful enough but still can offset some load.

Start an idea, change the mood.

However small still consider it good.

Through my words and ideas, revive some hood.

Never experienced poverty, slept without getting food.

Still got no laxity in helping however I could.

No angel just don’t see the point of having too much while others have too little.

Allow me to intrude your comfort zone don’t wanna be rude.

Point out the injustices leave you nude.

The divine bandit shoot ‘em up reload.


High as a kite.

We gonna win this fight.

Gonna take this flight.

As we have no fright.

I tell you this feels right.

We kill all fear tonight.

I am the divine bandit and I rhyme cos it’s my right.

My dreams I never lose sight.

Whatever the recipe I always take a bite.

Make a home for my wayward mind as I survey the site.

Look at my forefathers as I do this rite.

Pour a drink to them as I pray for height.

My heart and head are heavy never light.

So strong yet they ignore my might.

I breathe these words and make this verse tight.

I am on the weighing scale check my weight.

Love QWERTY but on this touch-pad I write.

I wanna continue but I got this date.

That I consider to be my fate.

So I’m never late.

Always early to open the gate.

I shine on these words at a higher rate.

You need not applause just make sure you never hate.


Back at me still biting the bait.

Too soon don’t rate.

Just set up a date.

To bring change and not with Cate.

Got potential to change their fate.

Not solo got the support of my mate, Ed not Nate.

Start up a few projects.

Listen to society not just object.

Understand the root of the problem before trying to eject.

Less our efforts just lead to more neglect.

Made a leaflet, the eye light.

Addressing issues uncensored that will definitely leave your stomach tight.

Kids dying while food we eyeing.

Human rights activists mysteriously dying.

The church joining in their game of lying.

Corruption, embezzlement and negligence around us flying.

Not enough just praying.

A foundation to bring change we should all be laying.

Starts with you as an individual before our neighbors we start slaying.

Hope my words lead to some gratification.

Strong willed cos of my affection.

Raise the alarm get some attention.

Try to facilitate their accessibility to basic needs and highlight their oppression.

This my consideration of an ultimate penetration.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Love, Politricks

I AM BECOME TRUTH

The Divine Bandit

I have watched and waited.

For the truth to come out.
Why they killed our best leaders.
Why there is no one else to teach us.
I have watched and waited.
For one who would see through the system.
Confront it unbiased and come out victorious.
For one who would tread the floors of Nyayo house again.
Walking barefoot for there are no shoes to fill.
I have watched and waited.
For one to confront BIG TOBACCO.
Take away the smoke screen.
Stagger to the drunken table of BIG ALCOHOL.
Get rid of that hangover once and for all.
I have watched and waited.
For that girl who tells on the philandering husband to the wife.
For the STD prone one who carries his own condoms.
For that HR who tells an employee he is being underpaid.
For that boss who admits his mistakes and lays himself down for the bus.
I have watched and waited.
For that best friend who tells you to respect women.
For those girl cliques that admit their new style is shady.
For that preacher who has more fingers on the Bible than a bosom.
For that street urchin with more of a clue than glue.
I have watched and waited.
No one was forthcoming.
Just a 3rd world and soon fourth coming.
My empathetic heart has seen no sympathy.
Calls rejected, call it SIM apathy.
But now I am become that person.

In the battle with chance.
And being bludgeoned by circumstance.
In the fight to be the captain of my soul.
And sticking to forever solo.
I will tell the stories.
Of liars and cheaters.
Lion carcasses and cheetahs.
Of haram MPigs.
And sausage fests full of wigs.
I will declare my undying love for the Lord.
Yet question interpretations of His Word.
I will admit that my liver has seen better days.
And my lungs have breathed in better ways.
I will speak of my divinity.
While showcasing my banditry.
I will flow in rhyme.
I will grow and prime.
I will love and lose.
I will have and muse.
I will speak my flaws.
And stick to my goals.
I will be active not an activist.
I will choose colours but not be racist.
I will speak my thoughts.
I will display my faults.
I may not be the punishment of God.
But I am become truth.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

REFLECTIONS

The Divine Bandit

I hold this pen and contemplate. Should I rhyme or just alliterate?

I have made this a habit. To always see rhythm in my work as fit.

I sometimes think of how; my memory will make heads bow.

But I always end the thought with a smile. For I know I won’t be dead for a while.

Or possibly the Good Lord won’t let it be. His plans are all that matter to me.

To be an artiste who believes in Him. It’s quite a hard feat as being inquisitive is part of my realm.

To be remembered after I am gone. Not in a sad way that leaves someone forlorn.

Neither does it have to be by the whole world. Just to those who matter and in whose hearts I will be found.

My thoughts have always been weird. But rarely in my writing has this reared.

In my stables I have chewed the cud. Watched every morning as the roses opened up from the bud.

Hysterically I laugh and my sadness sometimes hits bottom. It is part of life, c’est la vie a fitting idiom.

Some have questioned my sanity. While others, when they get to know me; my insanity.

I have enjoyed every aspect of my life. Happy times have overruled the strife.

I have learnt to enjoy each day to the full. I do not waste any second like a fool.

Be it in my own cocoon or among friends. I make sure to smile at the fads and social trends.

I have always loved a good quote. Smiling at how oblivious of that phrase the writer must have been as he wrote.

My writing might find its way to a Presidential speech. Probably on a lover’s tongue as he serenades his damsel on the beach.

But all I need is for it to be remembered by just one. To have it treasured as a folded paper back that has been worn and torn.

I work in an office and I love it. Not because of the money that makes ends meet.

But because of the growth I experience. I get to meet people who make me happy by their existence.

I sometimes want to be out across the land. Not just in my country but in overseas beaches where my toes dig in the sand.

With a clique of like minds with whom I can communicate literary. It could also be that one person who is always on my mind, literally.

Looking at that that strong willed Aminata. Imbuga must believe me a nutter.

I am the Lion to her Jewel. In her warm embrace, I revel.

She makes me reconsider marrying when I want. Like a ghost my thoughts she haunts.

Tribalism is supposed to be the river between us. But for that grain of wheat I will make no fuss.

For all the petals of blood we have shed. This island of tears we will mend.

As we bring down the devil on the cross. The land with no thunder will no longer be at a loss.

No longer at ease has been a running theme. As we meet in the dark and whisper these subtle morphemes.

We will one day see the Promised Land. But the citizens need to decolonize the mind.

I am the last born despite my girth. What a son though I never taught my mother to give birth.

I like manning up to the people. This despite my resolve has never been simple.

Through my journey as I encounter Africa. As the neo racism makes me sicker.

Showers bless our dry land. I am coming home from looking for the rain god.

It’s a good day, no mourning. And it is well noticeable in the morning.

It is time for the festival to make hay. Time keeps running out each day.

We will tell this one story as one tribe. We will garner this one victory with one vibe.

We will occupy so this our kids’ minds won’t preoccupy. Hoping my cipher will be lost to any spy.

The country will learn to change. And the stiff necked leopard will join us on the stage.

The pie may have been fallen in soil. But soon their plans we will foil.

I stand ready for that moment. And whether they televise it or not, the revolution will be part of the movement.

For it does not matter who I was or who I am but who I will be.

Like a Midas touch, my plans will excel.

As I walk my talk you will learn that I keep my word.

To my mind and my world I will give you access.

And with that you can gain the power to reach a higher point.

With the potter’s words we won’t need a wand.

We will conquer fear and with our courage show our enterprise.

This unexpected journey will have a ring to it.

This will not be poetic, this will not be prose.

And for some time the thorns will outshine the rose.

The book will not be written. The history not recorded.

The wise will understand for the message will be coded.

The blind will hear the message and communicate it to the deaf.

The couriers will be the dumb so the secret will never be known.

We will have not seen, heard or said anything evil.

The war will be fought by the crippled, master minded by the bald heads of cancer patients.

You see the battle will not need brute strength.

The lid on the jar is already open and the concern will be how to get it back on.

The man in the mirror will already be one with his reflection.

The step of the Boy Scouts will sound like the army, but we will not hear it.

The bubble wrap around this new world will sound like gunshots but we will not fear it.

Peace, love and unity will be tissue thin but we will not tear it.

The struggle will be real but we will bear it.

Deep and overstood, Hip hop, Kenya, Politricks, Swahili

UPAKATAJI WA MANENO

The Divine Bandit

Ninapowasili kivuli changu ni Kiswahili.

Makofi yanayopigwa siyo yanayostahili.

Kuandika sio mashindano kwa hivyo nayastahimili.

Nyota ya majivuno haing’ai kwa changu kiwiliwili.

Nikifika, mbiu yangu yafanya mwaitika.

Binadamu wa kila kabila hata rika.

Nawaangalia kwa macho ya asiyetishika.

Maneno kwa akili naendelea kuyapika.

Kila siku niamkapo nikiwaza.

Fikira zanizunguka hadi ninapojilaza.

Mimi sio msanii kama Gaza.

Ni sauti ya moyo wangu ninayoipaza.

Ninaposhika yangu kalamu.

Sitaraji kuayaandika yaliyo matamu.

Lakini miye hushikwa na hamu.

Ndiposa naandika kama asiye na fahamu.

Ukitaka unaweza nidharau.

Lakini tupo wengi kwa hili dau.

Kwa mfano kabla sijasahau.

Lazima utakumbuka fulani wa ukoo wetu Mau Mau.

Haya maneno yananichesha

Sina habari na sijali kama nje kwanyesha.

Kupingana kwako nami hakutanichosha.

Kwani naamini shairi langu ni mambo tosha.

Kabla sijalitia kikomo.

Wacheni tuwakumbuke waliotuacha kwa kufunga yetu midomo.

Maisha mafupi ya aliyekuwa wangu somo.

Agosti miaka kumi na mitano iliyopita na wengine waliomo.

Kalamu yangu haitaisha wino labda kitabu kijae.

Najua kila mmoja wenu yuajua maana yake.

Nitazikunja zangu vidole na kuwafanya mshangae.

Lakini kwa sasa, wacheni twendelee baadaye.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

No Angel

The Divine Bandit

No Angel.

My dawg and I doing what we do best. Play with words and give you this wordplay.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

I AM

The Divine Bandit

I step on this stage

Test the mic, 1-2, 1-2 and turn the page

I’m growing older, turn into a sage

Wise beyond my years, the number is just an age

I do my work, give me my wage

Either that or I will erupt in a rage.

Test me; see me flip over the gauge

So hot they got to keep me in a cage


I’m a child of Africa.

Still walking, not a chance of A-FREE-CAR.

I drop these beats, see me go far.

I am no lawyer, but I pass the 16th bar.

First I smile at her

Then I get the paper

Soon I get her

And she smiles at my paper


I am in no team, but I got this wordplay

Grab your attention, listen to my words play

You drop your gaze and I make you pay

My words on your ear, you won’t hear what they say

So dedicated, my will has many ways

So bright, when I sleep they still say “Good day”

I search for you, invade your thoughts; shine a light with this ray

I won’t preach to you, let me teach you if I may?


Months gone and I’m still on this phone

Got my crew with me they are never gone

Like Liverpool, I never walk alone

Hungry for success, throw this dog a bone

I never whisper, pay attention to my tone

So hot, I’m making these words moan

Can never decide whether that’s an adjective or a noun

I’m not a knight or a king I’m that rebel pawn

I use landmines not sprinklers so stay off my lawn

I sweat for this, always reaping what I’ve sown

Falling seven times, standing up eight as I never stay down

In time you will witness how I run this town


So here I stand with my black grenade

As I blow up be ready for I will serenade

Shine till the end of time, I shall never fade

East to West, I never see a shade

I go the whole night that’s why I love a jade

I just became I was never made

I do this for the people, never have to be paid

I don’t chase yet I still get laid

I don’t run, I am never afraid

And hence in this decade, like a crusade, finer words will never be said.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks

OUR SONS KILL AFRICA : A REPLY TO KEN SARO WIWA’S AFRICA KILLS HER SUN

The Divine Bandit

Dear Bana,

There is no justice in this world as proven by how late I received your missive.

This happened almost 10 years later and I am not being defensive.

The greed in the society we lived in had proven divisive.

I tried to look for you Bana, when they came to question me, I was ever evasive.

I tried to find connections that you had on the Merchant Navy but they proved elusive.

Even the report I got from the prostitute from St Pauli was inconclusive.

I never heard of your stint as a clerk in the Ministry of Defence.

Thank God I did not because I would have seriously taken offence.

I knew the kind of person you were and you always spoke your two cents.

Your rage at the impunity in our government would never condense.

I would have enjoyed every moment while waiting for the battle of wits to commence.

As I laughed hysterically as your words built wisdom walls around them at their expense.

 

I find it amusing that you referred to yourself as a robber, a bandit or anything else you deemed fit.

I always considered you my own kind of Robin Hood, stealing knowledge from those who didn’t have use for it, my own Divine Bandit.

It was always scary for me. When I heard of your experiences with the police, I prayed that you don’t get hit.

I asked for help from the White Jesus and with my faith wavering I also turned to our fore fathers and for them an altar lit.

It’s a shame that considering how far I travelled on the run from the police that we never did meet.

And tears well up in my eyes as by your graveside, I hunch my back and there sit.

I grieve for the fact that you thought that you had to pay a price.

You never hurt anyone and being too idealistic would have been your only vice.

They never knew that you and your friends were no richer than church mice.

And your only plan for the national cake was to make sure that everyone got a slice.

We were not horses to be content with imported or rather donated brown rice.

We had lost the game long before it started as they had fixed the dice.

 

You must remember how we used to laze about, but with the whole police force after me, I have grown limber.

After five years trying to be the game changer, I moved to the lovable country where they call the brave lion, Simba.

They did try to follow me there but they were a hospitable people and I will never stop wishing this was the same for you, Sazan and Jimba.

No one will ever sing songs of praise for the three of you as they will never find the right timbre.

On golden oaks they crucified their heroes without considering the price of timber.

Clearly the journey to the top of Mount Everest remains unbeknownst to no one else but the climber.

We live in a continent where almost everyone is dark skinned if not charcoal black.

Yet as you pointed out, we still associate everything bad with the color which shows that in wisdom we surely do lack.

I could easily see how all these combined could be the damned molting straw that broke the camel’s back.

And despite the childishness of this statement, we really do suck!!

 

Bana, my tears flow thicker than blood as the fact sinks in that your epitaph will only be immortalized in your letter but never as a graveside plaque.

 I was deemed an enemy of the state and even in this foreign country, of me they still keep track.

I would love to have you smile from the other side of the grave, but Bana I have no children.

This was my own choice so please my dear do not label me a villain.

I looked at our continent, how our sons slit the throats of our daughters and mothers like chicken.

In their eyes full of anger and malice, I saw a true evil hidden.

I on my own had tried to talk to the few who would dare listen.

But as their evil brothers scrambled for their attention, I, being ignored was a given.

Do not be surprised when I tell you that what I speak of now has nothing to with our country.

It has become evident that our country folk are not the only ones who are hungry.

The hunger for justice has crossed borders to the rest of the African colony.

However, their definition of justice has filled the rivers with blood and as a punishment the Almighty has unleashed global warming and now our continent has become painfully sultry.

At the altar of their sacrifice, the political elite have thrown in their jibes, hooliganism, all and sundry.

My knees buckle at this but on my feet I have to die for the human community.

 

Bana, forgive me for the scenes that I have recounted.

I know you loved me despite the fact that you left me for all these moons and harvests that I have counted.

There comes a time…..you used to say……wait……..that was someone else on whose charred memory this phrase is mounted.

Nevertheless, I do believe that for all I have accounted.

I hope I am not a disappointment for what I have amounted.

In all this pain, hurt, stupidity, black self-hate, the word LOVE has surmounted.

Four days after I got this letter.

I vowed to make a life better.

Notwithstanding my own, so I went to a children’s shelter.

I adopted the most adorable twins who make me smile as they stutter.

I could not change the world so I changed the person I had put on a tether.

In this world or the next, Bana, we will always be together.

Our sons, our leaders kill Africa.

Forever loving you,

Zole.

Deep and overstood, Kenya

Prospective Prose

The Divine Bandit

To my last born daughter,

These are the reasons I’m writing you this letter.

Words of wisdom to your brother and sister,

Tell them why they have to keep together.

This is the life that they wanted to take.

But for you this life I had to make.

I’m really sorry my death I had to fake.

But all I did was for your own sake.

I was there when the president was half black.

The same year we all fell like sitting ducks.

It was then that I decided to go and pack.

But don’t worry one day I will be back.

Your mama and I never used to be this fat.

Whatever happens she still holds my heart.

I miss her little lower back tat.

Just as she misses her furry old cat,

Tears flowed when they burnt down that church.

The flames juxtaposing their deed so cold,

Justice and reconciliation didn’t seem to mean much.

But the fumes from my countrymen were the realest seed I ever smoked.

The smoke in no way made my memory blurry.

Until the day I die, I put on for my country.

In my days I walked my talk.

Promise I made to your mama I gave her a rock.

Serenaded her with my rhyme stock,

Red all over I saw her heart unlock.

This, my daughter: is a legacy.

Be responsible and heed my warning.

See the dog in these boys escape the fallacy.

But still be so hot, add to the global warming.

Go to church anytime that you can.

Listen to the preacher but follow the Bible.

Glow from within shine like the sun.

Follow His word don’t listen to fables.

Before I sign off and put my pen down.

Let me say all and avoid a post script.

I want to see you put on a graduand’s gown.

Be my genius girl and don’t follow the drift.

Let your hair down and be the talk of the town.

Make your mama a present and be her gift.

I could go on with this advice.

But I have to go now protect your world.

The rest will be said at a face to face.

Always truly, Your, loving dad.

Kenya

It’s been a long time…

The Divine Bandit

It’s been a long time since I played barefoot.
Kicked a ball around without a care in the world.
Now I know that I care more than a hoot.
In my elusive search for that pot of gold.
It’s been a long time since I drank government milk.
And shrieked the words of the loyalty pledge.
It’s been a long time since I hang out with my ilk.
And slowly hoisted the flag over a rolling wedge.
It’s been a long time since I shaded in an exam.
Or let someone anger me with a corporal hit.
It’s been a long time since I read “The Animal Farm”.
Or worn red, black, green and white in one outfit.
It’s been a long time since I dragged a metallic suitcase.
Or joined a club to avoid community work.
It’s been a long time since I’ve worn this face.
Or stopped to admire the wheels at the car park.
It’s been a long time since I really saved my credit.
Or had a phone book of less than a hundred.
It’s been a long time since I was fully fit.
And looked at the elevator with such dread.
It’s been a long time since I was in a play.
Or recited French verses that I didn’t understand.
It’s been a long time since I attended a party during the day.
Or got time to write a song for my old band.
It’s been a long time since I held the “javelin” while traveling.
Or got my pelvic bone re-adjusted through public means.
It’s been a long time since I started writing.
And now with this pen I bring you the scenes.

For in that long time I have been hungry.
No more milk but camps and the cold rain.
I have stood in waterlogged cells growing weary.
And all my senses numbed by the never-ending pain.
I have seen and smelled the charred remains of my father.
And watched my uncle shot in public.
The vampires have bayed for the blood of my brother.
While the Treasury hid all the garlic.
My grandfather acts like he lost his mind.
As he reminisces the scalp and braids pulled from his wife’s head.
The sands of time just keep sinking in the tide.
As the whips and batons almost leave my pastor dead.
In that long time I have gathered knowledge.
And slowly turned it into wisdom.
In that long time I have given up revenge.
And let constructive thoughts occupy my boredom.
That’s why in that long time, I have chosen between multiple parties.
And severally amended the constitution.
In that long time I’ve respected other people’s deities.
And not regarded their belief as confusion.
In that long time I’ve learnt of the word promulgate.
Yet I still wonder why they couldn’t just say legislate.
In that long time I have seen an unlikely union.
Just to bring an end to the bloodshed.
In that long time, the people have risen from the canyon.
And decided a new law to finally wed.
In that long time my eyes have been opened.
And the staircase to heaven I can finally see.
In that long time I won’t have to be told what happened.
Because in a long time it will all be me.