BOY: Do you have a boyfriend?
GIRL: Nope, i don’t have one.
BOY: Gen 2:18 “The lord God said, it is not
good for a man to be alone, i will make a helper suitable for him
GIRL: “But i don’t love you
BOY: 1 John 4:8 whoever does not love,does
not know God, because God is love.
GIRL: & how do i know you mean those words?
BOY: Mathew 12:34 for out of the abundance
of the hearth mouth speaks.
GIRL: but how can i be sure that you’re loyal&
BOY Mark 13:31 “heaven & earth will pass
away but my words will never pass away
GIRL: But why me? There are a lot of girls out there
BOY: Proverbs 31:29 “Many women do noble
things, but you surpass them all.
GIRL: But what is in me that you like?
BOY: Song of Solomon 4:7 “you are altogether
beautiful, my darling there is no flaw in you”
GIRL: But I’m not all that beautiful you’re
BOY: Proverbs 31:30 “charm is deceptive, and
beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised
GIRL: What happens if i say yes.
BOY: Genesis 2:24 “Therefore man shall leave
his father and his mother & they shall become one flesh
GIRL: How come you know the scriptures this much
BOY:Joshua 1;8 This book of law shall not
depart from your mouth but you shall meditate
on it day & night so that you may be careful to
do all that is written in it. For then you make
your way prosperous and you will have good
GIRL: Wow, I can see you really love God
BOY: Psalm 34:8 oh, taste and see that lord is
good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in
GIRL: mmm. Ok please give time to think about it
BOY: Philipians 4:8 “finally brethren, whatever is
true, whatever honorable, whatever is just,
whatever is commendable, if there is any
excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise
think about this thing
GIRL: oh I love you already
BOY: Revelation 22:21 “Amen”
I didn’t even want to post this but the renegade in me, this stubborn quest to know all about everything could not let me rest. The question of my origin is still not answered and so shouldn’t I keep asking?
The origin of man has remained one of the most controversial topics that humans interact with. The more you try to understand it the more confusing it becomes. This is not my problem though, my faith has given me a sign and I know that God created the world and everything in it and his presence is evident in everything he created. That said all the accounts of creation do not explain why we have different colors. I know that we owe our origin to Adam and by extension to Eve, and Adam was created out of dust (we are not told whether it was loam, clay or a collabo of both).
I am not very good at reading the bible but I have studied the bible long enough to have met a verse that spoke of color of man- why we have different colors. I also know that the Israelites who were God’s chosen people were grouped in twelve tribes, we are again not told whether some of the tribesmen were molded out of clay or loam.
The evolution theory of creation is one of the creation theories that I will never approve of. For one if man originated from apes, why do we still have apes, why haven’t they evolved to human beings? The pioneer of the creation theory; Charles Darwin did nothing to explain why we have different colors and so the question of loam or clay is still not addressed. What is funny is that some people who if all of us were made from soil then they were made from clay do not want to be clay products- they want to be of loam. I don’t think they are to blame when history knows that ‘claymen’ had been useful all for the wrong reasons. They were traded like kolanuts as slaves, they were the first to be suspected of crime in the USA (I hope this has changed) and their continent is considered the Dark Continent. Who would love to be associated with that? Ironically, the loam products once left their continent and fought for the Dark Continent against themselves. Which is better loam or clay? My guess is they are all equal or at least they should be. If anybody understands this issue better than I do please enlighten me.
It’s been long since I saw a woman worth putting pens to paper for, a woman worth every stain the pen leaves on a paper as it glides on it in the name of ink. I am talking beauty. Not beauty potentiated by unnecessary meat exposed and lips stained with cheap lipstick. Not beauty achieved by doctored boobs and hips pumped with myriad injections of silicon. Neither Am I talking of beauty sandwiched between multiple clothing of behind nor beauty trapped on ears burdened with heavy metals in the name of jewelry. I am talking raw beauty.
I had just come from a meeting, no a debate that was successful despite disappointing absence of the expected attendees. The dusty road had got the better of me as I had to trek from Kariobangi to roundabout to catch a mathree to my hood. In my hoodie and timberland avunjas the dusty road was the least of my worries. But still that wasn’t what I thought of as cool, the dusty road was not appealing but the constant harassment by the touts who operate Makadara bound matatus was worse. These people have no respect; they are goons to be exact. They are very touchy. They will not only touch you but will literally pull you away in a bid to convince you to board their vehicle. It wasn’t funny seeing a woman old enough to be my grandmother almost getting ripped apart by these nincompoops. They treat people like items of trade; some avocado on a groceries shop and all may get out of hand if the ‘item of trade’ is a young woman laced with ounces of beauty. They love everything sumptuous. such a woman will have to put up with two things, the uncalled for body pressing in the most treasured parts and the sickening sight of chocolate ads in the name of teeth, how they smell mfff! I wonder why they always bring their mouths closer to your nose in conversations.
After few confrontations by the touts I manage to free myself but they are philanthropic enough to lend me mouthfuls of insults as my entourage. The trails of insults kept following me as if they sensed I had insult receptors at my kisogo that they could attach themselves on. At some instant I felt my stomach churn in rage and I was tempted to turn back and glue their lips with one ushi mawash. It’s been long since I did practical martial art lessons. I plan to die with all of me in one piece, having myself castrated in Kamiti maximum prison for killing a mannerless tout is a thought that should never materialize. It would even be worse to be hanged for the same. I want to die of obesity someday. I said obesity and nothing slim. Not even malaria should come between me and that dream. Nyaka atho ka achwe githuon. Donge?
The 15 minute walk left me exhausted but I was just in time to catch a D bound mathree. I got in and secured a seat closer to the window. Just then a woman got in. what a creature! She had it all, a beauty that could not be hidden even by the thick dust that laced her feet. What would such a beautiful lady be doing in rounda? Her eyes were floating on melted vanilla flavored ice cream and for once I thought if she ever cried, her tears would be wild honey. Some people sit and sleep on gold and still mine it in other people’s minefields for meager pay. I bet she can live on her tears alone. I do not know much about fashion but I would tell you that her full dress fitted her perfectly. She was divine. Yes so divine and the calmness that ensued in the matatu after her entry was the silent whispers of her serenity. Wait a minute does she want to sit next to me? Yeah your guess was right!
For the first two minutes I kept silent wondering if I was too brief with my answer when she said hi to me. And the hand why did I let go of it so quick? Such are the hands that every normal man would wish to hold on long enough to emit sweat. Yes sticky sweat of seduction. But I did otherwise something wasn’t just right. I turn to face her only to find her holding a bible, reading something in the book of Ecclesiastes. such a beauty in a matatu reading a bible- the book of Ecclesiastes to be precise is not my definition of mere passenger, Maybe an angel hiding in the beauty of porcelain skin and contrasting dusty feet. Somebody teach me how you tell an angel ‘your beautiful’ without making it sound like a cliché that it has already become to her. Maybe I will find the strength to tell her that next time we meet. She better be reading the Songs of Solomon then, I wouldn’t hesitate to make her my Song. Yeah you heard me right my Song at all costs.
My keyboard is an epitome of aridity. With all the consonants I still can’t make up words right enough to describe what I have in mind. And my mind is still not able to fully perceive what the maker of this lovely planet unfolded before my eyes today. How am I going tell this story? Simple, I am going to close my eyes and scribble anything related to this event on a page in any language that my tongue can roll to. That said. Where do I begin?
Africa U Night, the event that had trended (maybe is still trending) on twitter since the week began was finally here. Mavuno church was the destination and if you had never set a foot there like me there was an option-you could miss lunch and begin your search for the venue much earlier lest you miss some of the performances. To be honest, events will come and go but Africa U Night will still remain as a reminiscence of what good poetry is all about. For the first time I saw poetry escape the lips of the talented poets, hover in the room and finally encaving us in some sort of a dome filled with euphoria and bitterness. The event presented by the ARTEAST HUB had much more than just poetry. I tell you the poets deserved the tittle not as common these days when anybody who can create simple rhymes like Embrace and Empress call themselves poets. They had content and nobody had to be told to listen- the words themselves were powerful enough to arrest the attention of the audience and journey with them in that poetic adventure. There was also music. I still can’t compare the vocals of PHY to any other artist. She is the Kenyan Version of Emeli Sande.
Fast forward, the first performer was Le chatelier and it seemed the price of disappointing the audience was too high for him to afford. His comprehension of the Queens language was exemplary. His piece was short and very informative. The MC Poeta equaled the task shooting his sick punch lines in the name of Kujichocha. You just had to pendaa his stuff.
Vanessa Ombura took the stage and froze the audience to a pin drop silence. The words strictly lined with the theme left the audience screaming at the end of the performance. Poeta had to beg the audience to stop screaming such crazy chants like Thitima! Thitima! And allow the next poet to take stage.
L7 Empire is a cohort of Murderers-they killed it
Comprising of four artists: Virusi Mbaya, Cilabies Mgonjwa, Muarab and chief Kaddif, L7 Empire is taking Kenya by storm. Their lyrical prowess is out of this planet added to their sound content and mastery of their pieces-you get a free ticket to wonderland and they are not bragging about it!
They performed two pieces mheshimiwa usinigei doo that spoke of all the ills that we Kenyans are subjected to by the so called waheshimiwa. The other piece: bila madeni mafan wanatudai that spoke of the contributions of artists in fighting the societal ills. L7 empire will continue to rule because of one thing, they speak of the problems we encounter everyday not only in Kenya but in Africa. Their choice of words is excellent they use words so weighty!
The only prince in the ghetto, Ronny proved he is no longer a poet but a prophet. He prophesied that soon Obesity will also be a disease in Turkana. He also echoed the cries of the real Kenyan heroes felled by political bullets: TJ Mboya, Pio pinto, Robert Ouko and JM Kariuki. He prophesied that soon the hunger of these fallen heroes will be over as they will be served justice. Where do people get such creativity? Maybe only prophets like Ronny Prince are able to create such powerful words out of carcass of fallen heroes.
Shanky Abbs and Shikz proved they are not merely pretty but are pretty creative. Forget about the serenity in their dressing that depicted true African women. Their performances took us to a soul hunting mode. You only realize you didn’t carry your hunkies after such a performance. Tears rained and reigned.
The event was one of its like, an event worth every cent and second spent. Even after spending part of my time reporting about this event I still believe I should apologize to all the artists who performed everybody who attended this event and the Arteast Hub for failing to find the appropriate words to tell all about this event. In short the artists frankly lit the room with words. Set it ablaze.
Finally today being siku ya mashujaa I celebrate the following poets as my heroes:
L7 Empire Crew, Shanky Abbz, Ronny Prince, Le Chatelier, Vanessa, Poeta, Femi, Shikz, Vince, Murathe, Kennet B and many more. I celebrate you as my heroes because you have been the light of this society, always rebuking the wrongdoings of our leaders without fear while embracing the efforts made by fellow citizens to rebrand Kenya. May you live long to inspire the next generations.
I got to bed at about 5 am this day and that means I never slept a wink on Saturday, So I wasn’t wrong to expect a very boring and tiresome day for a Sunday. I woke up at 9 am and my eyes still deprived of sleep I had to squint to protect them from the venomous rays of the sun that was already up. Breakfast wasn’t any better, having a mkate mkavu (Is this what they call unleavened bread?) with a dilute cup of tea is the last thing you would need for breakfast on a Sunday morning and worse still it was cold-My brother Steve will never find the flask. I couldn’t find a match box to light the stove to heat this beverage and so I had no choice but gulp it down like water. Unfortunately my cup of tea gets empty before I finish my share of the mkate mkavu and that only leaves me with one choice to eat it like some sort of fruit but its dryness proves so torturous to my digestive system it feels like somebody is scrubbing my throat with some sandpaper and so I grab a glass of water to wash it down and a thought strikes me- this is the price you pay for failing to fill gas!
Sundays are always my best days. I don’t work on Sundays. It is a day I give to the creator, beginning my day with a church service is my ideal Sunday after which I spend the rest of the day in the house reading or listening to music but this was not an Ideal Sunday, far from it. As it turned out, it was even worse than any other day of the week. It was a day for thorough cleaning. I don’t even know why it is called so but I tell you I hate it. From dusting off the cupboards to removing the cobwebs to washing the utensils to mopping the floor nothing can be more draining. I was done by noon and I had no energy left to prepare lunch so nilikula njaro (airbags as we named it in college) for lunch.
So bored and lonely I turn to this book I have been reading for the last two months A land of Mirrors by Alfred Coppel for solace. I have only read one paragraph and my intestines are proving too rebellious to let me continue. I wish I was fighting against hunger, maybe I could have won but fighting a rebel from within has never been very easy so I give up on Alfred Coppell and turn my TV on for some music and wow! I couldn’t have made any better choice. It was SOLD OUT on KISS TV and guess which song was playing- Daddy by Emeli Sande. My hunger subsides and my attention is divided between the beauty of this singer and the rich content of her lyrics. Give me any other job but don’t ask me to describe Emeli Sande, I will fail. I can’t find the right word but there is something about her lips that will make you envy the microphone that seemed to be siphoning the radiance from her face and the alluring scent of her breath. Her eyes radiating love yet you can still read vulnerability of a lamb in company of wolves deeply seated in her pupils. Her vocal prowess is a story for another day, neither will I touch her hairstyle no, not now!
I haven’t bought a decoder and my TV is not a Samsung flat screen and so the images at times become rather blurry. This calls for aerial check, I never do this but for Emeli Sande I was ready to break some laws to watch her perform Breaking the law as she did in London recently. In haste I go for the ladder, within no minute I am on the rooftop twisting the aerial in a 360 degrees spin. If you have a TV like mine you will know that you need a second person to be checking whether everything is clear while you are on top of the roof setting the aerial. I was alone, so I had to change the direction the aerial was facing and climb down to check whether the images are clear, Thank God I didn’t have to climb to the rooftop the 11th time. Everything is clear, young man sink in your sofa and watch Emeli Sande.
Next to me – ooh hooo
Next to me – ooh hooo
Next to me – ooh hooo
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me
The lyrics of this song is tight, I couldn’t just close my mouth and watch in silence so I brought my coarse voice out of its hiding and began singing along. Don’t hate me I was only doing what my mama told me; NEVER stop singing. The microphone was still in its place enjoying its rewards for being humble. These are the women worth catching a grenade for…next to me- oooh my voice is a hell of a treat but the song was getting deeper in my soul replacing boredom and loneliness with euphoria. A once dull Sunday turning lively. I leave my seat to swirl my hands in the air in synchrony and right then the worst happens…..CHEEEEW! electricity! electricity!…I have serious beef with KPLC.
You may not like what I am about to say but it is the truth. Housewives speak about ‘bedminton’ most of the time. The nature of my work has allowed me to spend most of my time with the housewives mimi ndiye mwanaume peke yake anayebaki kwa ploti so most of the time their conversations are right under my nose and I don’t need to eavesdrop to get to listen to their stories, they talk so loudly that I can even smell the scent of their stories and I tell you they are nasty, nastier than the Nasty Thomas of the kinyaunyau fame.
I was here busy trying to beat a strict deadline, I really had too much to do and yet these women were here having conversation on a very sensitive topic. This topic is not very good for a mhuni like me. I don’t like this topic for two reasons; one, it reminds how lazy I have been in searching for she who is using my missing rib. I don’t always love to have this thought because it leaves me so hollow yet so exhausted to keep up with the cat and rat chase. Secondly, this topic is a distractor, you may pretend to have not heard other conversations but with ‘bedminton’ you will find yourself listening even if you didn’t want to. It is rather funny hearing women declare their expertise in the sector thought to be majorly dominated by men.
Today they were all there, the three of them. Wameweka kikao right outside my door (they might have had some wicked intentions). The “bedminton” stories began with family planning issues. One of them, Mama Melani was on the opposition, she did not want anything to do with contraceptives and she wasn’t ashamed to say that watoto huwezi pangia kama bado unakula keki, kama hutaki watoto afadhali usikule keki ( you can’t plan for children when you are still eating cake, if you don’t want children then you better stop eating cake). She continued to dominate the conversation, haki sijawahi jaribu hizo vitu na hata Baba watoto hawezi kubali (honestly I have never tried those things and I know the father of my children cannot agree) they laugh and she continues hata saa hii sijui kama nina mimba (I don’t even know if I am pregnant now). That’s how ignorant some women are, I conclude and grab the little attention I have got left , the pursuit to beat the deadline resumes. Before I could finish a single paragraph , Someone knocks at the gate and immediately the gate is opened a new conversation is began straight away. Mama Eddy sells, bed sheets and she had brought some for her customers, I bet if that woman fails to make profits from her business then she will become a sex coach just like Getrude Mungai.
She has terminologies! She calls the act a Manchester united and Arsenal match. She not only has terminologies but she knows how to lace her lessons with humor. Here are some of the lessons she taught.
Bed is the foundation of marriage. Ukitaka kutengeneza ndoa unaanza kwa kitanda, she begins. When you are good at bed then your husband cannot have any problem with you and neither can he have a mpango wa kando (Mistress). Wash the bed sheets after every two days when there is no match between Arsenal and Manchester but when there is match wash and replace the bed sheets every day. She says this is necessary because of the lotions they use. Unajua harufu mbaya hutoa appetite ya game! . She knows too much!
At this moment I faked a cough to let them know I was not asleep but they seemed too involved in their stories to mind my inconvenience. The lessons continue. Sometimes you also need to change things she says toka kwa kitanda mpeleke kwa kiti. At this point mama Miano interjects amidst laughter kwani watoto wako wapi? and her reply left me torn in laughter watoto usijali wewe tengeneza ndoa hata ukianguka kwa mguu ya mtoto endelea tu si wao watasema baba na mama walikuwa wanapigana…hahahahaha I coulnt stop laughing and I couldn’t continue learning the same lessons with the experts. Need I say I lost my demanding client!