Author name: Hellen Kimaru

Poetry

Conforming

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She grew up marginalized, From lack of basic needs, To education being a luxury, Something meant for boys, Because they said her role was in the kitchen and bedroom.   They forced her to undergo the cut, That it made her a woman they said, And after that, she was ready for marriage, At the tender age of 11, Just when her small boobs had started hardening, What would her young one suckle from?   And in a room of four men, They held her legs apart and pinned her hands, And he forced himself into her, A baby giving birth to another baby, She had become his fifth wife. See, she did not have the luxury of an education, The know-how of motherhood, Her baby tries to nibble at her nipples, He yells at the lack of breast milk.   She is tired of living, And wonders if there was ever anything beyond this life she lives. Conforming, That’s all she got!  

Poetry

Letter to an old friend: Wanjiku wa Comba

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Wanjiku Wa Comba, My childhood friend and playmate, Do you still remember those days we played in the rain; Despite our parents’ efforts to keep us indoors? Do you remember us sliding on those muddy giant anthills? Do you remember…? That day we were taken ill with fever. Because we could not have enough of the hailstones, Our mvua ya mawe… Wanjiku Wa Comba, My childhood confidant, Do you still remember? How inseparable we were, How everyone kept wondering; Why we would never leave each other’s side? Yes Wanjiku, you the only one I told of the happenings at home. I knew my secret was safe with you, Unlike Kamau, Liz, Otieno and Chebet; Who would laugh out loud and tell the whole world what conspired. I miss these childhood moments, It feels like yesterday at times.   Not to forget teenage, Yeah, Young, wild and “free” I know you know what I mean, Our mothers putting us under scrutiny, A close eye like hawks, Always checking out for signs of morning sickness, Because they said times had changed, And the fear of the unknown…   Yes, and those very lengthy talks About why we should not be seen about toying with the village “boys” Yes Wanjiku, how we tried to hide our small boobs. And how it embarrassed us to see them pop up our dresses For the whole world to see!   And the glory we brought our village, For having produced the best girls to attend high school, And later the prestigious tertiary education albeit That the few men had managed to get never made any good use of it. But showing off in the local clubs.   So Wanjiku, After all these years of toiling, Working against all odds, I am happy to inform you, That it paid, I now own my kiosk Yes, I always wanted to be an entrepreneur, I am making a few dollars a day and I am happy, What did you make of your life? #written July 2014

Blog

From Stagnation to Self-Discovery: My Year of Transformation.

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When the year started, I thought I knew what I wanted and even planned around it. I had a wish list of the things I wanted to do and achieve. New year resolutions as some of you refer to it.  I am an ambitious person, and sometimes I set ambitious goals, but for this year, I was a bit realistic with what I wanted, mostly just peace and some levelling up in my self-actualization journey. Little did I know that sometimes we can make plans and God laughs at us. I however still recommend that we make plans and bring them to his attention, you know like the way you tell him the desires of your heart through a prayer. Exactly that. The first three months of the year flew by. In January, I spent time working with Waweza Kids making exquisite jewellery for their project. It was an amazing experience. I however cannot recall how February and March ended; they were almost uneventful I almost forgot about them.  But it was in how they flew by, within no time, the first quarter of the year was almost coming to an end. And the other quarters have flown by so quickly, but the lesson that has remained constant has been that “a lot can happen in a year”. Choose yourself. Last year, I had this lingering feeling that I needed to change my environment, I had stagnated in an environment that was not allowing me growth or even room to think about the growth I needed to shift my life. I was drained and had kinda lost myself pursuing things that were not meant for me. And I was taking too long to come to terms with this reality.  A reality that would have set me on the straight and narrow path, now that I think of it; I would encourage anyone out here who is feeling stuck, to choose yourself, choose a different environment, choose a job that works for you, or choose the relationships that suit you. Whatever it is, at an individual level, all the change begins, and it starts with us choosing and prioritizing ourselves. Embracing change. Has something ever happened to you that pushed you out of your comfort zone? When that defining moment hits you and you must make a change? I experienced this, this year after procrastinating about my move last year. I was served a reality check on not so much of a silver platter, it was like being thrown to the deep end of a swimming pool when you are just a beginner. Change as they say is inevitable, my moving from Nakuru to Nairobi was not on my bingo cards. I was tired of Nakuru but hadn’t planned for Nairobi. It came as a surprise but it has been the best thing that happened to me this year. It set a lot of things in motion, and I am not complaining. My move came with a lot of discomfort and self-discovery. I learnt what it takes to be alone, in my thoughts and leading my own little life tucked somewhere away from all the noise that had surrounded my life for the longest. I spent my first two months crocheting in the evening and finding ways to elevate my vibrations. My energy was finding me. My best friend had bought me a journal which as I write this is full. The first time this has happened in years. I never fill my journal to the last page. I guess I had a lot to tell my journal, it helped me come back to myself. You know that time you pour your heart out uncensored? That has been my experience with journaling this year.  I have loved every minute of it. I highly recommend picking this as a habit. New habits When I was making my move, I made a conscious decision to do more for myself. I listed down aspects of my life that I wanted to focus on. Physical fitness was on top of the list. In June, I started taking evening walks that I enjoyed, I was however a little bit inconsistent. A friend of mine proposed we sync our walking schedule, and we did. We have been consistent since then, walking between 10K-15K steps a day, initially for five days a week and now for four days a week. I would never have thought this possible. If you ask me the secret, I will say the willpower to change something, being consistent and having an accountability partner. I have exceeded my expectations, and I am so proud of how far I have come. I am snatched, as they say, that’s how I can summarise what my physical appearance looks like. I was lucky enough to have another friend of mine help me form the habit of waking up early in the morning. I had always been a night owl, I would sleep at 3Am and wake up by 9AM. I started sleeping between 11PM-12AM and waking up at 6AM a habit I had not thought possible for more than 5 years.  This was a huge milestone. I am grateful for the sacrifice they made to help me form this habit. Rediscovering new passions. I have worked from home for the longest period, and I was almost sabotaging my social life. I enjoy being outdoors, the sun on my face, trying and experiencing new cuisines and meeting new people. But I was not doing most of this. I had become an antisocial person and spent most of my time behind my computer working and working. Finally, I became dull Jill. Moving allowed me to try new things, and my best friend has been at the centre of it all. We have explored different spaces and been a bit more intentional. I hope I get to do this more. I am a child of the universe, and I believe the earth is for us to discover, so I

Poetry

Dawn

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Dream, Yes,allow yourself to dream, Live, Allow yourself to live your dreams.  Act, Allow yourself to act on your dreams. ? Life can be miserable,  But the hope of tomorrow, Let it be,the drive that you seek. Hope, Hope that tomorrow still counts,  Pray, Pray that when dawn breaks you still have a purpose to live for For even in the darkest of nights,  Dawn still breaks.  Tomorrow will still come

Poetry

For a poor soul

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For him hustling is his duty,his daily breadto keep him movinghe is only surviving, he brushes shoulders with those of his typedown rive road early in the morningat hasteto scramble for the remnants of a jobyet its still uncertain he would get ithe might end up on an empty stomach again and as he walks back home in the eveninghead bent low as if in prayerhe is bolted to reality by cries of mwizi!mwizi!he takes to his heelsfor his life,he would do anythingalas! he had been pinpointed unknowinglyhe is at the mercy of the mobif the police do not make it in timehe will be gone in the next few minutes!

Poetry

Who Will Help Me

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In my drunken state Right from Wa cucu’s den I bumped right into a crusade Of the dear brethren They had been camping for a week The message being to bring more back to the sheepfold.   In my drunken state Shouting here and there with reckless abandon, Not sure am ready to give anyone any peace, Confused about these messages of a prince of peace A reconciler Yet I have been looking for something to satisfy my soul. Something apart from my dear bottle. This is only misery to me.   In my drunken state I wonder if I stand a chance A chance to know something more, Find a deeper meaning, And in this state I decide to join my dear ‘brethren’.   ‘Dear brethren We are gathered here For our lost brothers and sisters And I walk deep into the crowd, Mumbling something I do not understand But the dear brethren walk away from me Avoiding me like plague As if I am some kind of spirit Who carries along the multiplier effect?   Ironical teachings Is this really what Jesus came down to teach?  

Poetry

I speak for Emma’s demons 

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It might not have been like that,  An escape from Egypt.  But I wanted to go.  A shoulder to lean on.  A dry river to well with my tears, My home like Sobibor  What I thought, my fortress.   Another Sodom and Gomorrah.    Innocent as I was,  I naively ran into your arms.  Because for you,  Love you exuded,  A shoulder to lean on,  An ear to listen to my teenage drama.  That my Mama never talked about.    But I was wrong.   He tore into my flesh,  I struggled for my dignity,  He pushed and pushed,  As he broke into a sweat.  He tore into my flesh.   My innocence he took away,  My dignity I still cry for it,   My dreams,  Like a whirlwind.  He took away with his bestiality,  Then he left me for dead,  After taking my dignity, virginity and dreams,  And the headlines read.  “Girl raped and left for dead.”  But then , A seed of his madness, he had sowed,  I cried for my future and for my fatherless baby.  And when I look at her.   It still reminds me of that fateful evening.    But sometimes…..  And as lovely as society is.  All fingers of blame were pointed at me,  He vanished without a trace,  No. Society spent a lot of time blaming me,  That they just let him escape.,  Even the long arms of law.  I hope it haunts you wherever you are,   I hope that when you look at your daughters,  You feel that insecurity! 

Poetry

Its Never Business

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Skip the formalities, get to the real questions,  As if she even had a choice,  Maybe, maybe not,  Time would eventually tell Didn’t they all echo that? So… What’s your take on development, youth participation, gender equity?  Is it even real? Do we have to go through this? Any other question? For I assume those were no questions,  Just another interview,  On another channel, It would come to pass anyway,  Isn’t that right? And the economic, social freedom we sought,  Behind those malicious intentions hid,  And the better tomorrow they sought,  Another day they had to work.  They said its earned And not freely given, Welcome to the kingdom yee slaves. 

Poetry

Mama Africa

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  Mama Africa, I want to drink from your springs and well, I want to suckle from your full breasts, That are nourished with milk and honey, I want to grow under your watch, As you tell me tales of my great grandfathers, Dating back to generations.   I want you to tell me stories, Of how the maumau fought for freedom in Kenya, Why they would imprison Nelson Mandela for 27 years if not for selfish gain.   How you endured this ill-timed colonialism, And why in the name of our forefathers we would cease calling the rains under the Mugumo trees; And down our snowcapped mountains and started listening to the weather man.   Mama Africa, Teach me your ways, Please help this generation understand, That our forefathers lived of age because they ate of the wild, Boiling and roasting their kill. Let them know that their so-called modern ways are killing them with cancers and incomprehensible diseases.   Mama Africa, Teach me to embrace me for who I am Teach me to love my lovely skin color, Let me know that beauty is not just without but within, I know you wonder why I would trade my beautiful dark color for colors such as white, Isn’t the mzungu dying of skin cancers for lack of melanin?   Remind us that even before the mzungu came, We only wore little patches of skin here and there, Our breasts out to bask in the glory of the morning sun, As butterflies graced our days and colored our brown world then.   Mama Africa, Teach me to embrace my own challenges to stand firm and fight, Teach us that we are the solutions, That we can depend on ourselves and not on foreign aid, Teach us independence like way before colonialism, Independence to form government in kayas and manyattas, Independence of thoughts and own my own vision. Teach me that I must not necessarily subscribe to anything, That I have the will and power, And that the mzungu way is not necessarily right. Mama Africa, Hear the cry of a free willed spirit.  

Poetry

Of The Things They Did

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This is a far out cry, Echoing through the mountains and valleys,  Of a people long held in captivity,  Of debt and misery,  Of the things generation to generation will tumble upon. This is a far out cry, To a leadership long gone with the winds,  Of selfishness and the betrayal of a people,  Of embezzlement of public funds for self gain,  As they build mansions and fly high

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