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:

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

Life, Lust

A Sinner’s Smile

As she looks up at his hand
She pays no attention to the veins on his forearm
Or the sweat that drips down the flat nose
There are tears in his eyes
But the red colour is definitely from a drug
He screams incomprehensibly
Something about betrayal
And African values
But she does not hear him as the killer blow nears
In fact she does not see his hand anymore
She is looking past his silhouette
Past the clothes on the floor
She no longer sees the red bottomed heels
The aluminium foil packet glares at her but she ignores it
She looks at his still, still warm body
Face upturned, eyes closed
But the sinner’s smile comforts her as it had done earlier that night

They break down the door
Hit him and handcuff him before he can protest
The girl follows them in and nods her head
She avoids eye contact with him
The dad comforts her, but the hand on her shoulder is heavy
He has had his cake and has eaten it too.
She’s pregnant and they believe he’s the culprit
Statutory rape, incarceration pending
The judge barely listens to him
He fits the profile
The same attributes that have the girls in the jury blushing
Fallen victim to his own face
His grin has been his undoing
He possesses the gift and curse of the sinner’s smile.

A rap at the door
Then an envelope slips under it
He picks it up and reads the single note inside
He shakes his head and he can guess who it is from
He remembers the night vividly
About a year ago
The interlocked limbs
How they fit like interlocked seams
Hey there Delilah on the radio
Talia cooing on the powerful system
His mouth starts to part to reveal that killer beam
He reminisces but his memory is cut short
There’s a wail outside his door
He opens it swiftly and hurriedly
A toothless grin looks up at him
But he barely sees it
All he can read is what is on the shawl

Love, Prose

Cheater’s player

Girls love bad boys. And nice guys always finish last. We have heard all these cliché quotes before. And no my title is not a mistake for those who have heard the ragga song by Chris Martin. I am here to discuss fidelity, cheaters, players, forgiveness and moving on. I told someone minutes before I typed this out, that we will never be finished products. We learn from mistakes. We tweak ourselves to become better. We leave behind some of our beliefs. Change our dogmas as life moves along and we grow up, for some of us just growing old is the only benefit. I am up at 5 am typing this because that is just who I am. Sometimes I don’t get any sleep at all. And on a night like this or rather day as it is morning, I get an idea to write. It is in a writer’s prerogative to never keep an inspired thought for another day. I decided to start writing prose so I can explain my life in a more direct fashion that people could understand better than the poems I have written since I was a wee kid. Moreover, I can get to calm down the turmoil in my mind. It is also just right as I have been known to talk quite a lot. When in the mood. At other times, I am so quiet that people actually think I am sick. I am that guy who will be overjoyed and making noise when you visit but three hours later I am spent and quiet and wondering when you will leave.

On this blog, I have written various poems and articles. Themes have ranged from love, religion, family and odes to a crush. 🙂 . Today I hope to open another door. I hope to educate not just entertain. People listen to me. People say I give great advice. On schooling, relationships, career. I am not saying that I take my advice. The point is I listen and I give you an honest opinion that applies to your situation. YOUR SITUATION. That is one big reason I don’t read self-help books. I don’t believe one person’s account or opinion can apply to millions of people. You can only be the best help to yourself. You have the best chance of understanding yourself. The guy who designs the car knows how it works better than the mechanic who later services it. That is just my opinion.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. These are the best known trademark steps of grief and being cheated on. I have cheated before. I could not understand the pain the other person was going through despite having been cheated on before. I am so indifferent and nonchalant at times it even shocks me. That might also explain why I don’t attend funerals anymore. But that is a story for another day. The point I hope to discuss today is that last step. The acceptance part.

Acceptance has been heavily linked with forgiveness and moving on. People toy around with the forgetting part and that’s where I draw the line. I don’t forget anything. Because that is where the lesson is forgotten. The hurtful decisions and mistakes are swept under the rug and we hold our noses to the stink. This goes out mostly to the ladies. They are the most probable victims of this. Men are somehow wired to be so jealous and egotistical that forgiving let alone forgetting is almost impossible. Without betraying any gender unlike one Mr. Steve Harvey who I still have a bone to pick with, I will explain why.

Let me put this in perspective. First, you need to get this into your mind no matter how short, fat, “ugly” or low-born (Game of Thrones influence) you think you are. You are the best of you there is. You are the star in your life. And you will always be the catch no matter who you friend or date. This means that you should never ever settle for less than you deserve. The same respect and love that you give should be accorded to you. You are not in this life to please anyone. Leave ass kissing to…well…the asses..I mean donkeys. Part of your life goal would be to make someone happy. But make truly sure that you are getting the same thing out of it. I speak from both sides of the spectrum. As a cheater and a victim.


Below are the most common thoughts in the mind of the two when people choose to forget.


  • Mmmh I am this great, I actually did this and she still wants me back?
  • Is she dumb or something, maybe I should look for someone better.
  • She has not forgotten, she just wants to punish me. I really need to look for someone else for when this goes awry.
  • Now that I already cheated, she wants back in so she can hurt me the same way by cheating. That means I should just continue cheating to avoid the heartache when she does.
  • I am the King of the world.


  • Is there something wrong with me? Why did he cheat on me? Am I fat? “Ugly”?, stupid? On that last one, you probably are if you go back.
  • I must have made the mistake, why would he have been talking to another girl?
  • I need to better myself for him to keep him.
  • I guess now I’ll start cooking and cleaning for him.
  • I can’t be faithful to this kind of person but I really need him in my life.
  • I am the punishment of God.

From the points above, you can see that the outcome on both ends is not healthy for anyone. So, I am here to make you understand one thing. You should never go back and you should never forget. A person who cheats on you does not love and does not care. Maybe they once did but not anymore. No matter how physical or emotional the cheating is, what it means is that at that one time you were playing second fiddle to someone else. Ironic, considering someone was probably playing with his fiddle. It means that you could easily stop being number one in his/her life again if the opportunity presented itself. You, my dear have become what he is settling for. For the moment. Of course there are exceptions. Not in my book though. And they are rare as a truly great CW series. Do not gamble. And if you have to, make sure you are not an amateur at the blackjack table.


Some people just give in because of their age. Don’t do that. No matter what. Do not settle. Life remains the longest thing you ever have to do. One man had his first book published at 96. If you forget you don’t learn. And if you don’t learn you never grow, mature or model yourself to be able to have the right instincts. You also never get to learn how to handle certain challenges. Always remember, you are the star of your life. Don’t let anyone tell you or make you feel any different.

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

No Angel

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, Hip hop, Life, Love, Politricks


Guest post by Le Kapu

Somewhere in the darkness hidden in plain sight
No need to adjust the light to feel his might
Exists a star, shimmers once in a while awaiting the opportune moment to light
Somewhere deep in the silence, lies a dreamer
Just getting it wrong on the timer
The spotlight missing him, but never losing hope of reaching that spot that shines brighter
Listen closely and you can hear his bellow of a fighter
Somewhere swallowed in loneliness, exists a lover
Masked by a past of heartache, now just an observer
Hidden in a shell of mistrust that acts as his cover
Yet with each heartbeat he converts into a believer
Somewhere behind the sweat swamped faces is one with a salty mixture of tears
Shed as he tries to figure life’s complex ideas
Not satisfied of living a life that is in arrear
A warrior just looking for that problem solver
Hoping he doesn’t end up on the wrong end of a revolver

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Love, Politricks


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, Life, Love


He paused for breath. He had been running for so long. He could only hear the slow almost non-existent wind in the barren wasteland.

“Why did he choose to run towards the wrong exit?”

Immediately the first shot was fired. He knew it had been a set up. There had been another sniper on the opposite rooftop. They had paid him all that money just to get him out in the open.  He tried to lick his lips but his tongue felt like sandpaper on tanned leather. He checked for his side pistol. At least he had managed to scramble out with that.

This day was working towards rivaling his worst days on the job before. It had been off since early morning as he left the house. He almost forgot his silencer. And then his backpack strap came off just as he boarded the cab. The cling and clatter of the black metal had to be hurriedly explained to the cabbie as plumbing tools. His blue overall sold the story. But now standing under the scorching sun, he cursed his outfit of the day. (#OOTD) A sly smile cracked his already parched mouth as he remembered how he figured out the meaning by himself the first time he saw it on the cursed Instagram. The same app they had used to point out the target.

Some hungry looking birds flew overhead becoming one with the dimming horizon. Not even as much a Tweet but just observing how exhausted his Face Looked. They were flying lower and lower.  And slowly they invaded His Space.


He had been working in this profession for 7 years now. He had started at 20. The first job was to clean up after another assassin and he almost got shot in the process. Two years later he had his longest assignment yet. He had to learn all about the target before the primary assassin was sent in. He studied her faithfully, followed every movement. He had his heart and soul all in only to find out at the end of the second year that he was the chosen one to shatter her heart into bits.

He had grown fond of the target. Two years of following her as she went by her daily activities had established a connection. It was no wonder the bullet went through her arm without causing any permanent damage. He had missed his first major target.

He ran away. He feared that his employers would come for his head. In spite of this, they still managed to get a hold of him via his contacts. He was relieved to find out that the target was too important and only he had the information on how to track her.  He was safe to come out into the dark world again and continue with the job.

She had gone underground after the attempt on her life. It did not take long for him to find her though skilled as he was. Getting her out in the open was the hard feat to achieve. She was cautious and paranoid. She had learnt her lesson and no one was going to convince her otherwise. It was finally life in the shadows that gave him a helping hand. Bored of hiding and dropping her caution once, she brought her head out for some air and sun.He was ready this time. He was there with his scope aimed at her heart. As he pulled the trigger, a tear streamed down his cheek and landed on his feet just as she hit the ground.


He had become the man to his peers. He had brought down the most evasive target ever. He would however never be proud of this first kill. He had got too sucked into the assassin to target (ATT) relationship. He decided he would ask for information from others from now on and just be the trigger man.

One month later, he had his next assignment. He had all the information. He was ready. All his equipment was well packed. He had long suspected that the target had recognized him once at the bar. It seemed he had been sent to kill a retired fixer. So he decided to investigate. She was not so retired after all. She still had all her old files including his; and “protection” hidden in a compartment in her dresser. Now he was sure she knew who he was. With this new information update he decided he would hit her that night. He waited in the dark living room when it was time for her to come home. He could hear her keys jingling at the door. Just then, his pager beeped and he saw the luminous words: “OPERATION TERMINATED”. He felt a tinge of annoyance as he slunk back in the shadows and leaped off the fire exit. For once, a target he was ready for was the one who was cancelled.


Now here he was. After years of successful work. He was now at the top of the food, hood and loot chain. He had finally accepted another job that required him to do the full reconnaissance. This would be for a shorter period of only a year so he was prepared and he had experience before not to fall for the target. However, he had barely finished up with his recon when the order to off the target came in. That is how he ended up perched atop the tower like a gargoyle doing his walk of shame. Waiting for the target. The devil was in the air though. He could smell her, feel her, taste her. And just as her car pulled up, a moth flapped his wings by his right eye and as he moved his head to the left, a bullet whizzed past his right ear…

Soon-after the night became lit up by gunfire from about three submachine guns aimed at him. Oh dear Hell! There was more than one person sent to take him out. Maybe it was because of that old target of his. The one he missed then broke both of them with a single shot. This was no time for mind journeys though. He had no choice but to drop his belongings and run. By now they would have his prints. The Law was already after him. He was spent and thirsty. His career as well as his life would be done now.


He looked up, it was growing dark again. He heard the baying of dogs coming closer. He pulled out his hand gun. The night was serene and the moon was bright that night. He took in the divine scenery. He cocked his gun as he heard shouting getting closer. He looked down from the sand dune. They were too many. There was an army of about 20 men and 10 dogs looking for him.Whether it was the cops or his old mates turned foes he couldn’t tell. Was there ever really a difference though? He had had cops facilitate his data gathering on targets before.

He closed his eyes. He remembered how he had nonchalantly etched her name onto all his bullets out of boredom. She would be the last thing on his mind, he thought as he put the gun to his temple. As his finger tugged on what he already knew was a hair-trigger, he reminisced about what he had always known. He would die a bandit.

Deep and overstood, Kenya, Politricks


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… 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,