It Takes Smelly Feet and Carpeted Floor to Spoil a Party

It takes two to tangle. I read this phrase somewhere but it only surfaced as I sat on the opposite side of the table licking my bottle of sprite that I wasn’t enjoying anymore. Everything was in place and the party was about to be enlisted as one of the few house parties I have ever enjoyed. This was a graduation party, need I say I didn’t even know the graduate? I was here exploiting the few privileges of being a friend of Alal. I had left my place to visit him. He had just jetted in Nairobi from Kitui. After sharing pleasantries and a plate of beef stew he unleashed our next move which was to attend this party, what was I to do? Push aside my only ticket to enjoying free sumptuous meals and drinks…and music? I stood up my phone in my right palm and left for the door, he followed closely behind; talk of the shepherd being taken to the fields by the very sheep he intends to feed.
The house was already full by the time we got in but no worry there was lots to be eaten and to be drank and the way they pamper you with karibu karibu, chasing these kids to leave the seats empty for guests (I was a guest?) not really. I was more of a stranger. Impatiently waiting for them to pass me some warm water, clean my sweaty palms and stick my robust fingers into the mouth-watering delicacies that filled the dining table. I didn’t have to be told to come to the realization that the cook must have been hired from Utalii College. The dishes spoke on her behalf. The way they fry red meat until it turns brown and what spices do they add to it to make it that tender? Yawa jamaneni this cook was the only genuine graduate here! I bet the day my wife learns to cook half as delicious meals as she does, I will buy very heavy curtains and have them tied to my windows so that not a speck of aroma would escape to my neighbors failure to which my house will become an eatery generating no profits. Mother Teresa is my heroine but I betray her on this.
Smelly feet
Guys what is damn lethal in washing your socks and keeping them clean? How could this guy come to a party knowing all too well that 80% of houses in Nairobi are carpeted and you’ve got to remove your shoes to get in? This is Nairobi, the capital city of this country why the hell are torn socks suffocating your feet? This guy just stepped in and the air composition changed completely for the worst, you would think some reptile was rotting under the table. I felt an urgent need to leave the party and save my breath…mfffffff…Guys a pair of socks goes for as little as Sh.20 in Gikomba buy 8 pairs and save our parties. Shame! Wait, who still ails from athletes feet? Here is a free medical advice; wash your feet with HOT water (no pain no gain) and then apply GENEROUSLY a cream of CLOZOLE B…problem solved.

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Father she is growing

She is growing father
Can’t you see her breasts are pushing her dress further?
Her hips are widening
Her lips getting softer
Her skin becoming thicker
Her bosom broadening

Father can’t you see her armpits getting hairy
The curiosity in her eyes…she’s getting scary

Father I think she travelled to the moon
If not she will be there soon
Coz I saw tuck a piece of blanket beneath her junction

Father she is the reason boys flock our homestead
Why can’t they go to uncle’s place instead?

Father I saw her talking to Ben
They are planning to play the adult game
And then she will be gone, he will elope with her

Father talk to elders
Arrange for her wedding
And give her away
Before she loses her virginity
That will reduce her bride Price
Father she has completely grown, in a full woman

I will fight you!

You have refused to stay away
You have become the tail I never had
Dragging me back in rapid steps
Chocking me, cutting my breath

I tried to hide in fancy clothes
From you whose presence I loathe
But still you slid in my wallet
You did what you do best, dictate what I spend

You claim you know my ancestry
My grandfathers with whom you had a binding chemistry
You say you flow in my veins
That my attempts to divorce you are in vain

You tripped me falling head first into debts
Made me a loser in the eyes of dames
Taught my canine to bite vegetables
Sometimes without salt to make them palatable

My sister called asking for some shillings
How could I help her when you stole all my money?
To her I’ve become a hopeless sibling
What’s worse my woman no longer calls me honey

Tonight be prepared for a fight
Pitch your tent, take with you lethargy
No room for you here, you’re hated with all might
I will fight you POVERTY

Copyright ©GeorgeAgak2014

My Insomnia

Do I know her name, NO

Does she know mine, I guess not

Yeah she might be knowing Agak the Poet, The performer

but does she know the other bit-the passionate lover?

If she knew how my tongue has been behaving tamed

would she read it in my eyes and end this daring game?

She is beautiful, to tell her I want her I wouldn’t dare

my tongue held back by this bitter question ‘what if she doesn’t care?

The last we met She shared a hug

Did she feel the vacuum of love in my heart?

She asked how am doing and I said am fine, I am such a liar

Even a blind bat could see she put my crotch on fire

I would like to take her home, to meet my parents

Will she ever love a Luo, she already hates my accent

Her beauty is beyond her pillowy breasts

She has a big heart too, it’s a miracle it fits her chest

I dream of making her my wife

Coz her love is the Aromat that can spice my life

This beauty has become my Insomnia

All night I think of our little past with nostalgia

She has gololi eyes, eyes blind to my feelings

When in my Valley she’s the only one who can tend to my lilies

She has ears, ears deaf to my whispers of love

Yet she is the only one who can fill this vacuum in my heart

Will she agree to be my dark skin beauty?

Loving her is my passion, not a duty

I plan to meet her tonight

Dear lord make everything right

To propose to her I need no ring

Neither a song will I sing

For I want her to be the 5th chamber of my heart

A wife, a part of me that hurts when she’s hurt

In her warm embrace I can’t resist to get chained

In the full glare of the envious moon her lips I will taste

My Insomnia

Copyright ©George Agak 2014

The World Isn’t Fair

The world isnt fairWhen born she named me George

But that isn’t how I am known

Growing up they called me Agak

Living up to date is quite a luck

She looked at me in the eyes

Her palms as cold as ice

And as if she saw the end of time

She said to me; Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

The meaning was hard to unravel

Not knowing how close she had to travel

Before she finally bit the gravel

She said to me; Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

The eighth minute she died

Leaving me asking why

Had they taken all I had?

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

I love you mum with every breath

And it’s a shame my treasure they take

I pray you get the key to heaven’s gate

That you may get the reward for the life you gave.

To you the world was never fair

It gave you sorrows much more than your fair share

Losing every tear

Confirming all my fear

For a destination not so near

But what she said I still hear

Son

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

I remember being in the streets

The thought of that make me sick

With wounds too deep to heal

The touch of death I still feel

In the streets where we only had one use of water- drinking no bathing or laundry

In the streets where we had to fight with pig owners every morning over leftovers from hotel trash bins

In the streets where we wrapped ourselves in greasy sacks and slept in the open rain and cold being treats we couldn’t afford to miss

In the streets where guns and gangs ruled you can’t really imagine how many friends I lost to the shoot to kill policy

In the streets where no woman could love us but we still got love bites from bedbugs that had chosen to keep us company in these trying moments. I still wonder why we were bitten by bedbugs when we neither had beds nor bags

In the streets where I faced tough decisions, I remember when Mswahili showed me a sum of Sh.6000 and begged me to join his gang, were it not for the values you taught me I could have fallen for that and maybe only my skull could be remaining in my grave

I remember nights when I went without food but in all this aridity your words echoed in my ears telling me that tomorrow will be better

In all this aridity I found friends who really cared for me. I still remember soldier, the guy who used to feed me when I was still a freshman in the University of Streets Fanana Campus

I remember how everything changed when he was robbed by mswahili led gang

That morning he called me, we sat on a heap of plastic bottles and he told, his voice is still fresh in my mind; hapa itabidi umeanza kusaka ndiyo nikiibiwa ama polisi wakinishika usilale njaa

The next day was a big day in my life; it was the day I began……

Looking for meaning

Looking for life

Looking for a place where I could call home

Street is my life, street is my life

 

I thought my life could be wonderful

I thought my life could be so beautiful

But it brings me so low

Mamaaaaa

 

he dressed me in a greasy old stinking jacket and taught me how to carry a big sack on my back as we scavenged for valuables in dumpsites. That day was my graduation day and the greasy jacket, torn cap were my graduation attire and Soldier was my lecturer. This being the first graduation in my life.

I remember Omondi Ndogo he was the one who gave me the job of washing plates at Mama Mandela hotel. He got shot and died at underson estate.

My experience in streets taught me that sometimes the only thing you have is a pair of hands. These very same hands that I stuck in filth at dump sites, these very same hands that now enjoys racing on my laptop’s keyboard I won’t hesitate to stick in mud if that is all life needs of me

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

And now to all my friends

Those who hustle for their daily bread

Go for the best nothing less

For

The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

We’ll have to part it’s quite a shame

But who am I to take the blame

When all of you were part of the game

Let’s meet there when we make it to the heaven’s gate
For The world isn’t fair

You’ve got to Fight for your fair share

-George Agak.

Lessons from Alaro Wuon Omollo

Lessons from wuon Omollo

Grandchild, this world is a seasonal spring

Revel in its beauty today but don’t forget there’s tomorrow

Fill your plate but remember to chew for those who have no teeth

Like birds be happy and always creep out of sorrow

For the sun will brighten every dark spot in your path

Boy, go to school and get the white man’s knowledge

But stick to the ways of the land from whence springs wisdom

Strive to acquire great possessions

But don’t let wealth be your obsession

For then you may get all at the price of your soul

Let me introduce you to women

They are great people because they give birth to we men

They are lovely, loving and sweet beings

But just like bees they sting

They wound hearts

They kill

Don’t be deceived by their beauty as that fades

Go for virtue which forever stays

When you finally fall in love give it your all

In your woman create a queen and be the King; her Protector

But don’t tell her everything lest she beckons your fall

Delilahs aren’t yet extinct, the devious traitors

Child you have Mbola (good looks) and ladies will flock you

Do not exploit them; instead remind them that charm is deceptive

Help them see beyond your good looks and choose the one who loves all that is within

You also have Chia (charisma) and people will hearken to your voice

But don’t champion destruction and enslave your followers

Instead empower them, give them a voice and shun fanatism

Boy, this world spins

You may harvest today, fill your granaries

Remember to share with the hungry

For you will also need help when pests invade your granaries and consume everything

When time comes for you depart from this world

Pray that your descendants will prosper

That your name and mine may find longevity even after we are gone

We are mere mortals and so trust only in God

That you may find reward in the heavens when this world crumbles