Tag Archives: alcohol

Bruises and clots

We will fight again tonight
Like we always do when liquor fills the receptacles of our souls
My spirits will be on vacation
With reason and gentleness as escorts
The love we’ve been weeding all these years will melt into blood under fumes of fury

Whose blood will it be?
I pray it be mine
The kitchen floor hasn’t regained its lustre
No more pints for you

I also pray the neighbours will mind our business
Save you from me
And me from the law
I hate fights
But I love make-up sex

I love how we grow tender with each other
Even before the bandages leave our wounds
In the midst of it all; the blood, the swearing, curses and regrets, remember I love you

In my own strange way

I love your sad moments and your happy days too
I love your torn lips, your bruised face, bloodshot eyes
I love your limping feet
For in these moments of darknes
When beauty vacates
Kindness grows
Generosity takes root
And we love more than the promise our looks sculpted

We will fight tonight baby
Let’s fight even harder tommorow for what shall remain of ourselves

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Janarobi Is Home

It all began here. Good intentions spelt in creased faces, friendship bred in warmth of smiles and brotherhood submerged in wine glasses like ice pellets. Odhis jararobi was home. As the custom is, janarobi had to ‘untie youths’, so he got them together and kanyaseme they went. These days kanyaseme is the most popular of all the breweries. Other breweries had had their share of darkness and were ditched. Each brewery had its own way to collapse but kanyalego brewery’s collapse is the most memorable. It was said that she used bilo, charm to siphon customers from other brewers and all this came to light when Bonke discovered that Nyalego used a dead man’s arm to stir he brew instead of cooking stick. That discovery tainted the image of kanyalego breweries, consequentially customers ditched followed by investors who couldn’t invest in a crumbling pillar.

They sat down on benches at the feet of Nyaseme’s hut. After he got filled on what was happening in the village; who had died of AIDS, who had divorced, who had married and who was remarrying it was his turn to tell them how Nairobi was fairing.

“Nairobi is going how?” asked Omengo as he straightened his arm for the bottle.

“Nairobi is going well” the answer came before he filled his glass.

The conversation took a different twist when Alanyo interjected;

“I hear ohuru is really castrating you Nairobians, you pay for water, rent, light. He paused, and then with emphasis, is it true you pay to piss?”

“Yes, Bwana there life is hard. Everything is money. We pay to eat, we pay to piss and if the constitution is abolished then we shall have to pay to breath”. Odhis answered as the rest jerked in laughter.

“Where is Lucinda these days?” he asked

“Lucinda went to Uyoma, he got pregnant, I hear she sells fish at Aram Market”, Oduno answered between muffled giggles.

As the rest laughed, Odhis just spat on the ground and in a raspy voice, “suits her, I wanted her but she refused. She told me she was studying to go to the university. I didn’t know it was university of Lake Victoria”.

Omengo who had been quite spoke. He stuttered. If bits of his words were to be joined, he would have insisted that janarobi had to leave his timberland boots, his hat and his shirt for him. He was completely floored by the brew; he was now blabbering and dominating conversations. Soon all of them followed suit and their conversations turned to choruses and insults.

It was well past midnight when Nyaseme threw them out of the compound. Everyone staggered home, or where he thought home was. Odhis woke up at about 5:30 am in a ditch. He had no shoes on, his bones ached and a terrible migraine was shutting him down. And he leant that not everything distilled is water and chang’aa isn’t just any other distillate.