This last lighting up won’t last the trip.
Becoming the Lordy Vordy of this car.
The phoenix rises, a basilisk needle stuck on its wing.
Tag: life
Haiku Beast Day 14
Benson peered over her Hedge the day she was born.
Marred borrowing of human rights started then.
The Rocket touched down as she mooned his Rooster.
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
Haiku Beast Day 13
His walk, his gait, proved he was her Super Match.
The Absolut power of her raspberry lips drew him in.
Her Merlot voice was the last thing he heard.
Haiku Beast Day 12
Blows off her Lucky Strike.
Whispers in the ear of her Shisha sister.
He hears the word “bigger” as he sips his Lager.
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.
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.
Haiku Beast Day 10
Climbed the Darn Hill.
And as I breathe out the Sweet Menthol.
She steps out of the Embassy in Aspen.
#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
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.
The Divine Bandit™ 