I overheard my neighbour asking Jesus to come now. People are here trying to kill the son of God twice.
Out on a Tuesday night
Watching people worship the God of the Israelites, the God who punished Israelites for 40 yrs and bribed them with manna and quails to forget.
The same God who sent the Satan in the image of Snake to give the woman a rotten apple— the apple that ejected human race from luxuries of Eden.
The same God who destroyed those in Sodom and Gomorrah because they chose a YOLO lifestyle and melted Lot’s wife simply because she couldn’t control her reflexes
The same one who forced Jonah to go to Nineveh without even considering his approval and then planted a big fish to eat him half-half and leave vital parts heart, elbow, lungs and testicles …just imagine being alive in the fish’s intestines for days…ouch!
The same one who brought havoc on Job for no good reason—yet Job served him with all he had…I’m telling you about the same God who murdered the pharaohs, slaughtering innocent children, and women
I tell you, they had forgiven him…ooh what a good thing to be the lord—you’re the grand puppeteer.
Women are angels until they fall in love
After that their wings get broken
They become wingless angels
And then they become slaves
And blame it on love
Woman can’t you see?
That he beats you coz he’s afraid
He knows you’re worth more
Than he can ever offer
He knows as soon as your wings grow
Far away you’ll go
So why enslave yourself
And blame it on love?
Love is God
And God is freedom
If truly you know love,
Pack your bags and call the taxi
For you don’t know the hour of his coming
To knock off your remaining set of teeth.
Darkness is all I see
A fight from within
A person torn in two
Demand of flesh
Must I be the bait?
A conduit for deities
To fulfill their purposes
And manifest their divine power?
Why do I come back here?
Why do I break my promises?
With hefty prices to pay
What more shall I pay?
I wait for that day
When this war will be over
I’m tired of fighting a war
Where victor and villain
Is just but one person
I wait for that day,
When this war will be over
Am I no more than a battlefield?
Why do corpses rot in my belly?
Why is my face charred?
With burnt stumps of guilt
will this war ever be over?
Hello, how are you? I’m curious. It’s not that I’m not concerned, but you see if you brought a sexually starved bachelor into a room full of naked women and dared to gauge the rise in testosterone and gastrin hormones, wouldn’t the highest be obvious? So is my curiosity. As you know, none of the people I hold dear that had departed ever came back to tell me how the land yonder is. These are miracles reserved for people of Lazarus’s privileges, you failed to qualify too but I would have loved to get a two way communication between us , brother what channel do we use, Prayer? No. If I prayed in conversation with a dead brother I might be termed a devil worshiper; there’s a notion that people who die turn to ghost and devils, the latter is more common. The penalty for conversing with a devil, my pastor says, is eternal fires of hell.
Irrespective, I’ll tell you a few things about this world you left unduly. Here nothing is easy, there are metrics that we found already set, not that the bars they set for us were too high that we couldn’t meet but it just makes no sense to force Lionel Messi to hit the bull’s eye when the game of darts doesn’t involve the use of feet. Particularly, it hasn’t been cool with me, I have been branded names. Brother, we would have shared these names if you were here, believe me there’s nothing as weighty as a demeaning brand. It blankets your self-esteem and floors your confidence and before you know it you’ll remain an indoor mouse that complains of all he lacks but is too ashamed to step out of the door and look for all he needs. Brother, I’m ashamed to say that I have been this mouse, everything about my existence has a dark side. I knew this because everything good I did always had a diversion.
When every conversation about you has a ‘but’ as a conjunction you’ll know that your present has joined forces with your dark history to rub your trace from the map of human existence. After all, I believe it was omission of ‘t’ in butt that formed ‘but’, nothing good comes from ‘butts’. Sometimes I wish that you were here, other times I’m glad that you left before they branded you a misfit. I have all names that I wear daily, profanities held on placards and iniquities flawlessly inscribed on my forehead. Even as I write, I have to beg my hands to continue typing, I no longer want to please them. But brother who doesn’t need approval? Especially after being spat out like spoilt milk? I have lived in denial, I have lied to myself that I don’t need anyone’s approval but the truth is there are days when I just need someone to tell me that I’m on the right track. When no one does, I fail to know my destination.
Brother, I would like to tell you so much, about technology, there’s whatsup, facebook, twitter, IG among others but this short letter isn’t really about me and my space; it’s about you! Why did you leave so quickly?
Do you know how painful it is to live as two different beings in one lifetime?
I’d love to say I hate you, but hate arrived late when the apartments of my heart were already in rubbles, all that’s left is tiny cage holding my love for you hostage. This love has been held here for so long I need to check its expiry date. How irrational of you to depart and leave a part of you? Do you know we shared same breasts? Or did I suckle too much that you died of starvation? Tell me twin bro, I can’t find the right answer, my conscience is bugging me. Did I take all the love our mother had to offer, so much that you saw no point in living in a world devoid of love? For your consolation, mom died few years after you left, she didn’t even raise me. Does that make us even?
Brother, I need you. I have stood before the mirror so many times just tracing a hint of your face but nothing forms that could depict the beautiful image my heart holds of you. Besides I see you in abstracts, nothing physical, whenever I think of you I see love, kindness, creativity and tenacity. The latter is more boldly engraved than the rest, I guess this is why I believe that you were the executor because you can hold on to the wheels even when your hands they grind. I can never do that. You see, I can only form mental pictures but you were gifted to bring them to reality. You’ve rendered me useless brother, for what is the need of a dreamer without the executor?
There’s a ship in friendship that ferries friends to their destiny, but ours left me stranded at the cove as you chose a shortcut to end all this. You’re a coward, you should have looked death in the eye and told him ‘not yet, you aren’t taking me alone I am not leaving without my twin brother’
The same way there’s a hood in brotherhood, a feeling of belonging, and being appreciated, my hood scoured all the worthy memories of us, now emptiness hovers around my heart like a dark soot in a clear sky. But I still hope that one day, you’ll be here to answer my questions. I’m not done but I’ve got to go to work. I didn’t tell you, I work for seven days a week for a little pay just to keep my son alive!
This morning I heard Woodpecker sing
She sang melodious songs
in mournful tones
She sang of victories;
The song of a worrier
leaving a battle field
with spear in his right hand
and a shield in the left
The voices of fallen comrades
drowning his chants of praise
then tears streaked his visage
he wept for families lost
in curvy shapes and sound morals
warmth of children with innocent demeanour
The soldier wept for a future lost
of bodies disfigured
and red rivers
The Woodpecker sang it all
The plight of brave soldiers
whose sacrifices were met with greed
He returned home with nothing
but a spear in the right
and a shield in the left
Like a nightmare in a troubling sleep
home was no more
where his hut once stood
a notice now read:
“ PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESSPASS”
The woodpecker sang
Ooh, the bird sang this dawn
the dirges of heroes gone
She sang of Mboya
A great worrier of Joramogi
A worrier of pen and tongue
killed for being too good for the regime
The bird sang of Robert Ouko
A hero slain for being too intelligent
to the heads in crown
The Woodpecker sang some more
these sorrowful songs of dawn
of fireflies lost in thickness of darkness
of trumpets drowned in silence
of night’s vigilant angels
and daylight marauding devils
The bird won’t stop
Now she’s singing of tombs
split open by gods of revenge
the cries of innocent orphans heard
the cursing of the widows
awakened the wrath of Karma
the dead are awake now
coming for their dues
now be quiet the mourning bird
the village awaits the morning bloodbath
There is this thing we call sibling rivalry, Well, we never suffered from this disease in our family. We were more collaborative, so most of the time we got neck-deep in shit as a family. In fact, we suffered from a more powerful disease, It’s commonly known as sibling thievery!
My sister June Nyawade and I stole a lot of small things (note that ‘small things’ doesn’t mean we were cleptomaniacs) we stole useful things like maziwa, chapat, mandas, miksi and honey too. you see stealing these small things and getting away with it gives one a very addictive adrenaline rush, we started simple. we were just exploring our abilities and stretching our realities a bit but soon it became a game.
Being that my sister spent most of her days in the boarding school, I was left to exploit these opportunities at home alone. My favorite days were when father came home from Kisumo with two polythenes full of shopping, there would be honey, miksi, goldband and some other sweeties I have since forgotten what they were called…YOu see, I was no thief I was just taking liberties with things I was entitled to, It was the time of serving that I didn’t approve of, I was no thief I was just impatient.
It so happened that one day, I had come from school for lunch, as mama was busy in the kitchen I took my sister Dorcas, then still a baby to her crib but I didn’t stop there..I walked to the door and called mama twice just to make sure she hadn’t followed me.
‘Aaaan’ mama itikaad
At this point you have to be very creative
‘Nyathini pek manade kawuono yawa’
‘hahahahaha kwani ikia ga ni ng’at manindo pek’
‘ooyo mama afwenyo kawuono’
‘tim piyo, ilokna rombono kapok idok sikul’
Having made sure that the disciplinarian was busy, I hopped into her bedroom and opened the kabat..2kgs of Miksi just stood there waiting for me…my ooh my…no spoon! what do you do? cup your hands and do the scooping-licking, scooping-linking and then baang the bedroom door opens…and then history! I went to school without taking lunch…
From that day henceforth I swore not to indulge my impatience in absence of my accomplice, so when she came back we pulled the mother of all thieving.. we drank all the milk we were given to boil..when mama came back she found us very busy teaching Lucy some manners..Lucy was once a faithful cat, dare we call this corruption? Lucy was just a Josephine Kabura, the Waigurus were the ones ripping it’s skin off now..
‘yawa pakanani tinde osechako kwelo yawa’ is all mama said!
I know June Nyawade will say this is a lie
I also know That I have just fooled you!
Please don’t tell me of a paradise in the sky
when you found yours between my sister’s legs
I am so Gay
No time for haters
Christ himself rode on an ass
In society today money rules
It speaks, it does
The lesser you have the lesser being you are
The more you have the closer you are to the king
We are rummaging in darkness for vanity
Character lost like fart in air, where’s humanity?
YOLO is the mantra, get rich, have lap dances, and get a Lamborghini
Chop heads, drug some, sell your body, snatch wallets or sell your virginity
It doesn’t matter what you do, money is the gauge for vitality
It’s either you are rich or not
Societal rules no longer existent
Prostitution has become a taxable profession
Robbery a rite of passage to be bragged about
And corruption a chariot to paradise
Religion mocked as a fear factor and the creator a myth
Of what benefit is it to hold to a faith without wealth?
When that is all you need to buy good health?
But can’t we be a little considerate?
Why must we cripple others and blame it on fate?
Why must we kill what we can’t create?
Our moral standards have flatten on gauge
And for inheritance our children‘ve got aggression and not wisdom of age
So we’ve bartered our souls for money
And made it a deity to be worshiped by the society
The world owns us in trinity
Our minds dominated by thoughts of vanity
Our bodies are sacrifices to gods; ‘shapers’ of destiny
And our spiritual beings no longer thirst for divinity
But there comes a day we shall have to pay
For KARMA can never be fooled