Poetry

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 this 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 this 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?

Poetry

Wow, We Turned Fifty

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Wow, We Turned Fifty: First Published “The President’s Eulogy” an anthology Elenah Kim They took away pen and paper, They took away my hands, A total mutation it was, But heaven knows why, I still got this power, That which propels me, The power to speak. And so I will talk about it, The evil and rust in society, How our politicians, are not ashamed; Of passing dehumanising bills, How they would not make it to parliament to vote for a bill that would help Wanjiku, How they in large numbers turn up to pass their salary increment bill, ‘May those of the same opinion say I, And it echoes through the hills, valleys, mountains and the plains ‘I’ Of how are they accumulating wealth through Wanjiku taxi money, And of how SHE now lives on edge Below a dollar a day, That’s her way Her sing song. USAID, UKAID, appeals are made. Yes, Of how a seventy year long aquifer could possibly help a nation survive, Yet the people in Turkana; Where this life giving resource is located are dying of hunger, Their lives still at the mercy of well wishers and donors, Of how our people are dying as we watch; As our economy builders our dear teachers and doctors strike for salary increment, Children having to be sent home, Our dear patients; Should I talk of a home or six feet under? Mass graves without a proper sendoff. A grotesque sight! I will talk of the insecurity which aren’t like mid life crisis Grenades hauled at our dear ones daily, You never know the day or the hour, For even churches and mosques are not spared. I will speak for the disabled, Why a modern day contractor would not put up escalators; In that skyscraper and justice is denied. Of how we lost all in civil war and with the promise of a better tomorrow, I voted you in, I thought I would get out of the murk Why I will keep suffering from these bills you pass each day, Why my five children are now school dropouts and now pick tea in your plantation; For five shillings a day, Why at the end of the day I will go home with a grumbling stomach, An empty bag, And my hungry emaciated babies’ eager with anticipation, Will have to sleep on an empty stomach, And why in the morning I will find one took for the street, And later hear he was marooned by the city council, City mortuary just for a few days, If I do not claim the body, Six feet under in an unknown grave he would go, Yes, without a ceremony. Wow, I can’t believe we turned fifty!

Poetry

You Scare me: Of Men Beasts

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You scare me. When you forcefully bring my pants down, You scare me, When you squeeze yourself into me. Is it mama that I should run to? But she is never there, Her diary full of work schedules, Day and night shifts, Or either she went for that business trip abroad, A high-flying career, A woman that knows no limits at her workplace.   You scare me, You hurt me, Daddy, Is this not supposed to only happen between adults? At least I heard my friend say; That her mummy warned her against showing off her private parts Why do you always insist on seeing mine? Why do you hurt me?   You scare me, You torture me, I am always in constant pain, My friends in the kindergarten keep asking. What really happened to the way I walk? I see the way you look at me every day, The way you summon me into your bedroom, Daddy, Does this happen to every child? And why do you always say it is our little secret, When you gracefully hand me the bars of chocolate?    You scare me, The thought of coming home every day, The thought of seeing you after school, Daddy, I am scared. Of men beasts When will this ever stop?  

Poetry

Sometimes

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 Sometimes in the silent moments, We find who we are supposed to be, Who we always desired to be, And who we would wish to be. Sometimes in the silent moments, We get to reflect on how awesome life has been, How those who made us laugh made a big difference, How through it all we found our light and shone. Sometimes in those silent moments, We get to remember the tough times that defined us, The ones we thought that we would not get over, The ones that screamed “it is over”

Poetry

We Ate Them Whole

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In our desperation, Or should I call it greed? To ascend to the helm of it all, We ate them whole, We ate what was to be their breakfast, lunch and their dinner, We guzzled the fuel that was to propel them to their destination, We ate of what was to be their children’s future; leaving them in abject poverty. We took out the bulldozers to bring down mother nature to feed our unending greed for animal skin, ivory and meat, nice jewelry, For tomorrow didn’t really count, We set the slaves free to “enjoy” what freedom had to offer, But behind the scenes we knew what awaited them as they sang those songs of freedom, So we smiled inwardly , See, We ate them whole, We embezzled their public funds, Took our children to Dubai for vacation After all the hard work in these international schools; work without play would make Jack and Jill dull kids, And their mum deserves it too, she has been serving the maendeleo ya wanawake diligently , I know this few millions clocking at a billion won’t bother anyone much, After all, even the bible says that when we ask it shall be given to us, So I asked myself, why not? I deserve this!!!!! And my family agreed that that was the best idea , Especially where their holiday and welfare was concerned . See, We ate them We ate them whole , We cleared the plate with even no leftovers, We made sure that even the meatless bones to their dogs they couldn’t feed, And now we watch their children grunt from this holocaust called hunger, As saliva drips the sides of their mouths at the mere sight of simple food like githeri , This doesn’t even give us goosebumps, Ain’t this the reason they elected us? We lead, They follow.

Poetry

Scars that tell tales

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She said she loved him to bits, That heaven and earth she would move for him, That he was her wind beneath her wings, Her world and her sanity. He He said he loved her in a way words couldn’t tell, That she was his world, Anything, anything she wanted, She would get. But Behind locked doors, Behind the flash of a camera, Behind their neighbours hawked eyes, His selfish desires revealed, Her scars his brutality told, The promise of a heaven on earth broken, The unconditional love is so conditional. Then, In good and bad times, She remembered her promise to him To love, to hold Till death did part them, Was this it? Was he trying to send her to her hell hole a little earlier? The scars spoke for themselves.

Poetry

I Want To Be Like Mandela

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I want to be like Mandela Selfless, A fighter for truth and what is just, I want to be like Mandela, I want to learn how to forgive, I want to learn how to embrace those who fight me, I want to learn how to live with hope. I want to be like Mandela, I want to learn how to embrace different colors, Because we are one people, I want to help unite nations, We have one life to live. I want to be like Mandela, A leader with a vision, A leader with foresight, A force to reckon. I want to be like Mandela That even in the face of adversity, I will stand strong, That not even death will scare me. I am convinced you are just resting Till we meet again, I will live to celebrate you. REST IN PEACE MANDELA

Poetry

Of Men Beasts

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You scare me; When you forcefully bring my pants down, You scare me, When you squeeze yourself into me. Is it mama that I should run to? But she is never there, Her diary full of work schedules, Day and night shifts, Or either she went for that business trip abroad, A high flying career, A woman that knows no limits at her workplace. You scare me, You hurt me, Daddy, Is this not supposed to only happen between adults? At least I heard my friend say; That her mummy warned her against showing off her private parts Why do you always insist on seeing mine? Why do you hurt me? You scare me, You torture me, I am always in constant pain, My friends in the kindergarten keep asking; What really happened to the way I walk? I see the way you look at me every day, The way you summon me into your bedroom, Daddy, Does this happen to every child? And why do you always say it is our little secret, When you gracefully hand me the bars of chocolate? You scare me, The thought of coming home every day, The thought of seeing you after school, Daddy, I am scared. Of men beasts When will this ever stop?

Poetry

Ultimate Justice

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Our father who art in heaven, Hallowed be your name Your kingdom come, I know its incomparable to any nation, Your will be done, We need your ultimate justice. Our father who art in heaven, I do not understand our law, I also do not want to judge, But our courts of law leave a lot to be desired. Our father who art in heaven, People have been served unjustly, Others like LIZ, Anguish in pain, For inhuman acts inflicted on them, And their perpetrators left to go scoot free, Their futures so blurred, With no hope at all, They need ultimate justice! Our father who at in heaven, So much evil happening, And we will always get something to blame on Fathers turning against their children, Women against their husbands, The basic family unit is disoriented, And so are the nations. Dear God, This is my petition, A petition from my heart, Just as you wished for the earth during creation, For all mankind, Bring us some sanity, And bring us ultimate justice!

Poetry

Taxman is Knocking!

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My mother said ‘Work hard’, So hard that you will be better than I am. Hard that you will live a better life. My teacher said Hard work brings success You will reap what you sow Discipline goes with good results Work hard. My neighbours, They told their kids to work harder. So that they could do better than I did Because as they said Their kids could do better than I. Work hard, The motivational speaker. With all kinds of quotations, Biblical to philosophical said, Work work hard. All this years I have been working Each year harder But it seems the harder I work, The more the TAXES Is it worth working? I wish they told me, It was mostly for the taxman, When he came knocking!

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