Crush, Life, Love, The Teenage Years


I write to express how I feel
Other times it helps me to heal
Lovely emotions make me kneel
And hate tempts me to kill
Regardless of what I want to say
Poems seem to lead it away
My real feelings never see the light of day
And for all that my heart has to pay
I feel that writing does not cater
For all that I know, does matter.

People don’t know how what I’m about
Hence they tend to throw my love out
I can’t believe that it’s me they always doubt
So I have to control myself not to shout
Even though my affection I don’t always flaunt
At least a speck of care I always mount
My heartbreaks are so many that I’ve lost count
And wonder if my life, they will always haunt
May be one day they’ll flow like water
But I’m sure that it’ll be much later.

For now all I have to do is wait
And walk around with a confident, straight gait
There’s nothing I can do to increase the rate
Of finding my true and beloved mate
The day will come when I know my fate
How I hope it will not be too late
I wish your love would drop on me in its full weight
So that I can finally stand at my full height
Let’s hold hands and look at each other
From you I can’t stand no further
Let our love shine like polished leather
For there’s no one else I’d rather
I hope that I’m not being a bother
It’s just knowledge about you I’m trying to gather
Putting this down makes me feel like I’m degrading you
But if you let me, I can tell you what is in my heart
I only did this because I felt it was overdue
Hence it was tearing my inside apart
I hope I have said what I feel to the letter
For as you look at me, I know there’s nobody better.

Deep and overstood, Life, Love

I don’t know how to spell ♥

See I don’t want a luh..luh… like Common had never seen.

Nor one like Shihan’s thinking of you thinking of me thinking of you kind of love.

The sun came and set on Maya and I am still a long way from home.

Because I refuse to walk anymore till the mist is gone.

I don’t want to learn how to love, I want love that learns who I am.

I need a love that needs me for longer than I have needed it.

I don’t write this with a bowed head of a proud African man.

I don’t even try to rhyme because this love will force a rhythm.

No, I don’t want a love that makes me Koo Koo.

Because I want my mind to be fully alive as she purrs and I coo coo.

I don’t have to count the stanzas.

Because we are not prosing just proposing.

This is not a poem, it’s just a mind blowing theme.

I am not the Lion King, my dad’s not Mufasa.

I just decided to slow down as was tired of moving faster.

And there will be no love to feel tonight.

When I spread my arms this time don’t be confused.

My heart will go on but this is no Titanic.

See I want a love that one language cannot explain.

Because I don’t feel in one culture nor express myself in one way.

I need that kind of love drug that makes you almost see sounds.

You can harness the power of music and recreate a moment to each aspect.

That kind of love that makes the past ten minutes a nostalgic event.

Makes you want to go back and this is no throw back.

You want to live in the present love but you still want to see what it looks like in future.

Do the emotions overlap and become a melee of heart beat skips?

Or do they become parallel comrades that see each other but never ever meet?

This typing is just us talking, I am not having a monologue.

I am asking you this because you said you have fallen in love.

You hold my hand and want to stay in the moment.

But you see, I am a different kind of person, weird even.

I believe in being unique and making you part of this life of words.

I want you to be that one song I never get tired of and never want to turn down.

You are the painting that looks its best because of being incomplete.

The knots I feel in my stomach are the ones I want to tie.

We will then add colour to the life we create but we won’t dye.

I will add you to my favourite humour, honour and endeavours.

I need you to be smart enough to see what I did there.

But see the most important fact is that I need to be smart enough to get you.

I need to dress smart enough to impress you.

See, making you happy is not a goal.

It is a constant life choice of which instead of kicking away I will hold onto.

I am not writing this from my thoughts.

Each morpheme here is a heartbeat and I am yet to run out of breathe.

We are writing in what we have painted.

We are strumming a future lullaby on the ukulele.

This was not meant to rhyme but I will be with you milele.

My dreams are not sick, no they are valid.

In fact they are not dreams just future realities.

I traverse this life as a child of the world.

I am a writer, a dancer, a singer, that’s why my brow is never unfurled.

I’m a thinker, a doer and in the dance of love I will have you twirled.

You can be my last word, my last note, my last dance step.

Because each day, we write a different plot, a new song, you are my new choreographer.

Every moment we are together is Kodak for the sun has become our photographer.

The moon is the shrink who listens in on our conversations.

You have become my new priest for this love confession.

Living while loving you are interchangeable but still my new profession.

When we soar above, we smile with the stars and admire our progression.

When I put down the last word on this note, it will not be the end.

Because as you teach me how to spell love, we will create a trend.

My mind is a maze that I’m lost in but have you as my compass.

My mind may amaze but I choose to reside in the heart of this lass.

I get lost in your eyes and find you in the brown dunes of that teary desert.

Words are an illusion, promises are a farce so I can only prove my love if I never desert.

My words are never ending.

Our thoughts are ever blending.

You, I’m ever defending.

And as we hold hearts and start ascending.

The earthly definition of love, we are transcending.

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

Odysseys, junkets and business trips: woes and pleasures

I try hard not to smile but I'm happy..clap 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.


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. 🙂


MVP…. 😛


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..

DSC00599 425681_10150596568743346_534088345_8892198_46006202_n

Never felt like such a pimp...hehehe
Never felt like such a pimp…hehehe
Deep and overstood, Jesus Christ, Life, Love, The Teenage Years


Shakespeare compared life to a stage,

Yet by deep thinking it’s like a page,

A blank it is before you are born,

Then comes the moment that you put on life’s gown,

Though you hold the pen and decide what to write,

The Almighty God fills your pen with ink,

The past is always full of things you did not do right,

But leave it as it is for you used indelible ink.


Think of the present and write the best you can,

Use the best handwriting till your life is done,

Work hard so as to brighten your book,

Let it be attractive to those who look,

There is always the entry of another person,

That person adds another handwriting,

It might seem cumbersome to have one page to write on,

But hold on for what is between you is binding.


The future always appears unexpected,

It’s not once that you find it dented,

It’s as if somebody decided to crumple your page,

Everywhere you turn you find a thorny hedge,

Take life slowly for every hedge has a rose,

Life sometimes stinks but you can always hold your nose,

Better a dull life on this ground,

Than fiery fire instead of a crown.

Crush, Life, Love, The Teenage Years

IN THE SINKING MOATS (This is the first poem I wrote at age 14 in 2002 A.D)

Don’t tell me I’m late

For this little plea

Much I’ve attempted

No way could I dispel it.

I didn’t compel it

But like a thunderbolt,

It struck me.

What am I supposed to do?

Cry; I do feel like but “No”.

Give it up?

Then I won’t be as they say.

A man of substance

Yes I did try.

But ‘twas locked in my heart.

None can tear it asunder.

To evict the love I have.

I set myself on a plinth.

Unmovable I am going to be.

They say love don’t cost a thing.

It may be a platitude.

But in all forms of etiquette,

Mine may cost something.

Then like a soaring lofty cloud

Fill my realm of fantasy

And still my heart won’t rest.

Deep and overstood, Life, Love


 He paused for a 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 have to choose the wrong side to run towards? 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 off with that.

This was not his best day yet. It had been off since morning as he left the house. He almost forgot his silencer. And then his back pack 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, he smiled a bit as he remembered how he figured out that meaning alone the first time he saw it on the cursed Instagram. The same application they had used to point out the target. Some hungry looking birds flew overhead. 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. 2 years later he had his longest assignment yet. He had to learn all about the target before the better assassin was sent in. He studied her faithfully, followed every one 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 cleaner. He had grown fond of the target. 2 years of following her through 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 target on his first kill. Oh shit!

He ran away. He feared that his employers would come for his head. But he was relieved to find out that the target was too important and only he had the information on how to track her. She had gone underground after the attempt on her life. It did not take long for him to find but getting her out in the open was a hard feat to achieve. She was cautious and paranoid. She had learnt her lesson and no one was going to convince her otherwise. But the life in the shadows was too much. And one day she brought her head out for some air and sun. But he was ready; he was there with the 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. But he would never be proud of this first kill. He had got too sucked in the assassin to target (ATT) relationship. He would ask for information from others from now on and just be the trigger man.

1 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 cleaner. So he decided to investigate. She was not so retired after all. She had all her old stuff still hidden in a compartment in her dresser. Now he was sure she knew who he was. And so 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 he was here, 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 reconnaissance. But this would be for only a year so he was prepared and he had experience before not to fall for the target. But he had barely cleared his recon when the order to off the target came in. And so he was on that tower last night. Waiting for the target but just as her car pulled up, a moth flapped his wings by his right ear and as he moved his head to the right, a bullet whizzed past his right ear. And then the night became lit up my gun fire from sub machine guns aimed at him. 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 come 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. He put the gun in his mouth. He closed his eyes. As his finger pulled on the trigger, he knew what he had always known. He would die a Bandit.