Deep and overstood, Kenya, Life, Love, Politricks

I AM BECOME TRUTH


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

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


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.

Kenya

It’s been a long time…


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.