Looking for healing…huff and puff..
Smooching this feeling…rough and tough.
Ruby ruby ruby red lips was what got him about Stacy’s mum.
He liked that she was still preoccupied with 1985.
And as he pulled off in his station wagon.
Alice just watched from her bedroom window.
He waved at Frankie by the YMCA.
Wondering whether he’d ever come back before the clocks stopped spinning.
All was yellow, autumn was creeping in and he knew it was no longer just his life.
He’d met a girl. Thought she was grand till he found out her love was just a lie.
And now as his heart was going under.
He’d pretend that the airplanes in the night sky were fireflies.
Lighting the perfect path to what she reminds him.
Someday he’ll be the hero who can save all.
But today he’ll just go somewhere only they know.
Soak up the sun just like animals do.
Smiling at these twisted turns of fate.
His small words now just a whisper.
Life just got too complicated for the skater boy.
Category: Love
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy… and Mama
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy… and Mama.
One visiting friend recently asked Mama, “How in the world do you live without him?”
“It ain’t easy.” Mama answered, shaking her head.
They are not the “HOPELESS OF NAIROBI”
I know I have been off this site way too long. As I get closer to 30, time seems so scarce. Taken over by work, moments of football punditry etc. But let me be honest and say, a certain 6 month project at work that ends next week has had my hands quite full. Clearly also getting new titles comes with it’s “workaholism”. You are now looking at the new……enough about yourself Ed!! This I feel is the first real post of 2015 as it is prose. Poetry as I have said before comes quite easily to me. This post is not meant to be heart rending. It is not meant to make you feel sorry. It is not meant to make you feel bad about your elevated echelon. It is just meant to get your attention, to have you realise what happens where your eyes don’t look..or avoid to look. To give you a fresh perspective. Something you don’t necessarily have to live with but know for just that single moment that others live with. Something that can change the way you think or have you want to make a change. I had been part of this endeavour before. On a previous month when I was assisting Kibali in his month’s pledge. Then, I was just letting my heart lead me. There was no logical questions about it. I had some extra money and was willing to help. However on this particular day in May. Something else led me there. During the day, due to the aforementioned work commitment I had failed to have something to eat for breakfast and lunch. By the time I left the office with rain clouds looming; the storm I was paying attention to most was in my tummy. I have acidity issues and that evening found me almost keeling over as the acid burnt through the lining I would assume is not as thick as it used to be B.C (before cocktails). I struggled to make the walk from Riverside to Westlands, I found my mind lost in another thought process. This is not quite an unusual thing. I’ve almost walked past the bus stop more than once, lost in thought. I was imagining how weak I must be to be in this much pain because I had not eaten in less than 24 hours. I was wondering about the person who has not had a meal for a week. If that was me, would I indulge in cheap drugs to get rid of the pain or to forget what kind of hell I was in? Did this seem familiar to the “one for the road” of the rest of the white collar society? If that was me, would I snatch a phone to sell it for a measly 500 to be assured of a meal for the next 2 weeks? Would they judge me then? Would I judge myself? Would I really view my life as that black and white? Would I so easily understand the law when I barely knew how to read? The above is not a justification of all the crime, violence and wrongdoers out there. It was something that got me back looking at my life. I am not ashamed about it. I work hard and have studied hard to be where I am. But what makes the difference is that I had the chance to. I get lost in thoughts of whether I would have survived past the age of 10 having been sick most of young life. Again, same tummy issues. What would my body have done to fend off illnesses when I could not afford antibiotics worth 100 shillings? What did you do to deserve the life you live? The family you have? Chance? Fate? You were good in your past life? This reminds of a case where I dropped a dollar in New Delhi as I fumbled with my wallet and walked away without noticing. Seconds later, a filthy street child would tap my arm and I almost leaped away from him (Nairobbery instinct) and was about to tell him I had nothing to give him when he handed me a dollar and walked away. I barely managed to speak to him before he disappeared into the crowds. Not waiting for a reward. Ok, this does make me want to weep. 😥 What I want to say is that I made it to that feeding program in Westlands with quite a change in attitude. I was not giving because I could, I was giving because I could manage to stay without. I could manage to live in a comfortable cheaper house if hard times hit. I could manage to live without eating beef. I could manage to not have milk. I could manage to live without a cocktail here and there. I could manage to walk part of the way to work and save 60 shillings per day, 2400 per month. Because you know what?It takes 2500 shillings to feed 65 to 70 street families/people at Clifford’s feeding program in collaboration with the Homeless of Nairobi. That made me vow to feed some 70 people a month for as long as I live and more as my life, effort and returns rise. As an African, we are very insistent on teaching how to fish and that is also what Clifford’s program is about. From finding shelter for these people, schools, rehabilitation and work. It does not stop at food. I had a talk with one young man who helps Mwalimu Cliff out in serving food every weekday night at 7.30 behind KFC Westlands and in front of Uchumi opp. The Mall. He came to Nairobi to find work. He previously had work installing air conditioners in Rwanda but that did not pan out. He would like to act in plays, he’s a comedian. What this people need is a chance.Remember the chance you got when you were born to able parents? Use that chance to make sure another kid does not have to be born on the streets. This story seems all gloomy right? No. I was welcomed with genuine smiles. More genuine smiles than I see in my side of society. Happiness from money is overrated. Really. These people are homeless, some jobless, others parent-less but most are not HOPELESS. You can read more about this program here: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-31359061 You can find Cliff here: https://www.facebook.com/clifford.c.oluoch?fref=ts and @OluochCliff Homeless of Nairobi: https://www.facebook.com/homelessofnairobi?fref=ts and @melessOfNai
Writer
147 REASONS TO LOVE
Kara El
It’s hard to do this.
I’ve always known that love and lust;
What I have and my thirst.
For one my pen free flows.
But for the other I lose words.
Yes I still don’t know how to spell love.
Yet the letters are born in me.
The words are my creation.
And the product a mistake piece.
Thinking of you.
My brain goes to overdrive.
Trying to harness my favourite things.
My life my dreams both rolling down a hill.
Gathering no moss and I’m still at a loss.
The foot drum of my hip hop tracks gets the rhythm.
Rudely interrupted by the acoustic violin.
And from afar I hear the soft keys of a grand piano.
Trying to calm down the blare of this rock guitar.
My oh so beautiful mind.
Full of cracks and fillings.
Goes mental trying to cohere the realities.
Of how you wrestle and pin my heart down for the three count.
With the acts of avenging your hurt.
Because I’m but a man.
You’ve played games with jokers.
Been led on by two faced icemen.
When you let them govern your young heart.
I’m an idiot.
You use that as a term of endearment.
Because you won’t just say I’m a geek.
And that’s why I still mention comic book characters as I try to describe this love.
I barely scratch the surface.
For the same reasons I want to sit the reader of this poem down.
And explain the meaning of each sentence.
The idea behind each phrase.
But time is never enough.
Life is short .
Yet it’s longer than a two hour calculus paper.
This is definitely relative.
And I, Edwin, will always be your Man Crush, squared.
I’ve differentiated you from other women.
Integrated you into my family.
And loving you to infinity has proved to have no limits.
In this heart you’ve found the perfect loci.
Made a poet lose his rhyme.
An insomniac run out of time.
Because you’re truly storm born.
You’ve gone through the fire.
An astrid that walks with divine strength.
That not only tried but managed to tame my dragon.
Most deserving to be by my side till I’m toothless.
Untitled
Lyrically connecting, heart possessing.
Brain waves winding, hands clasping.
Lips parting, heads leaning.
End of reasoning, the thought of kissing.
Music playing, the beauty reading.
Pen moving, paper ruffling.
Eyes aching, brain storming.
Teeth clenching, thoughts whirling.
Toes wriggling, tongue rolling.
Effortlessly writing, emotions easing.
She finds it amazing.
Can’t notice my gazing.
Smiling, knowing I’m only teasing.
Slowly but surely this poem takes shape.
Her mouth drops, she is all agape.
Hair rises on her nape.
And I wish I could save this on tape.
Now cussing because I can’t get more rhymes.
But at least with this one I can recount the times.
When is silent language we talked like mimes.
Realizing that even this one ain’t easy as it seems.
Knowing I got to change to one that has her name.
In this society of words I bring her to fame.
I call her a lady but in olden days she’d be a dame.
She’s pretty lucky because she got a poem first time she came.
Thus here I decide to tame my words and let her look at the same.
Kimemia ’09
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
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.
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.
#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:
- 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.
“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
The Divine Bandit™ 