Category Archives: love

Beauty in a Matatu

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?

Beauty in a Matatu

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.

TAKE MY HAND

As the winds pass through the whistling Cyprus trees,
My heart warms at the mention of your name,
As a Dog loyal to its master I bet I’ll be true to my feelings,
As the heat of the scorching sun gets stronger by the day, so do my love matures.
But wait a minute will you take my hand?
Will you stay when fate conspires with the universe to make life even more unbearable?
Will you ever say ‘I DO’?

Take My Hand
Take My Hand

WHY DO PEOPLE CHEAT IN RELATIONSHIPS?

Every person needs good nutrition to have a good health. Other basic needs that are always given much attention are shelter and clothing but the need for a fulfilling relationship between partners in love can never be underestimated. Every lady needs a caring and loving man for a husband and to be frank such men are not yet endangered species, if you need a caring and loving man I guess you won’t have to look anymore, they are plenty who knows? Maybe your next door neighbor is that type. The problem has always been finding a trustworthy partner. Those who will be able to resist the temptation of drawing water from strange wells and stick to the springs in their own Gardens of Eden even if the water is salty.

Cheating in marriage
Cheating in Relationship

The search for such a partner may take long if at least you are lucky to find one. Really, why do people cheat in relationships? Several factors contribute to the evil habit of cheating in relationships. To begin with, it is good for both partners to know that it takes the two of them to make a relationship work. In case one partner has sacrificed much to a relationship and the other is not willing to reciprocate, he/she will find it necessary to look for someone who will be willing to devote more time and energy to a relationship. Poor communication between spouses also create suspicion that he /she has divided attention and therefore may begin cheating when such slight opportunities knock their doors in pursuit of revenge.

Suicidal Thoughts

In grave silence, unfathomable darkness

Nature’s listening to her racing heartbeat

Jagged rocks, hungry earth, demonic presence

Pregnant belly, lost husband, DEAD BEAT?

Suddenly the winds begin to whisper

Bats flapping wings, circling about in mockery

Her priceless soul, the grave be the highest bidder

Betrayal, she weeps, if you call this love its worse than robbery

Was she to blame, when all she did was to love

When she gave all she had until a piece of her heart she had none?

She gave the whole of herself to him the very day he poked her orifice

And now a corollary to that love is a sacrifice

She’s already prepared the noose

The embrace of death might soothe

#Gone too Soon#

Danger Lurks in Darkness

Danger Lurks in Darkness
Danger Lurks in Darkness

Son, sit down and let these words sink

Deep in between your ears

Get wisdom so long you may live

To overcome all your fears

Son, don’t stay out too long in the night

For in darkness nothing happens right

Lost souls hover, dark angels scavenge

Preying on innocent beings for revenge

Remember you left your wife at home

No blankets, bed sheets torn

Won’t you save her from cold?

Your chest is the only warmth she’s ever known

Son, your child has stopped suckling breasts

You should be home making another baby

And your wife, didn’t you see her shaking her legs?

Late night drinks are for the impotent and the lazy

Son, didn’t you hear the hyenas laugh

And leopards are not friendly to strangers

Your wife has still kept the lights on, come home, come home

You will be safe in her arms

For danger lurks in darkness.

Emeli Sande on a Sunday

Land of MirrorsI 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!

Ladder and Music

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.

Emeli SandeYou won’t find him tryna chase the devil
For money, fame, for power, out of greed
You won’t ever find him where the rest go
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me

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.

PHOTOS:GOOGLE SOURCED

THE WORLD AIN’T FAIR-FIGHT FOR YOUR SHARE

When born they called me Georgesick mother
But that ain’t the reason 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 ain’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 ate the gravel
she said to me: son
The world aint fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

Losing every tear
Confirming all my fear
For a destination not so near
Son
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

I remember being in streets
The thought of that makes me sick
With wounds too deep to heal
The touch of death i still feel
Son
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

And now to all my friends
Who hustle for their daily bread
The like of Ken and Ben
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

We’ve got to part it’s quite a shame
But who am i to take the blame
when all of you were part of the game
lets meet there when you rise to fame
For The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

George Agak