hellen

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

Poetry

Son of Wambugu

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Son of Wambugu, Marry me if you can, I ain’t got a lot of time,  I promise I will bear you children.   I promise I will bear you children,  That our homestead maybe filled with laughter that echoes up the mountains and through the valleys,  That our kindred may bear us a generation,  Marry me son of Wambugu.    Marry me son of Wambugu, Show the world you are capable,  Prove yourself wrong,  By loving unconditionally,  Let grace and faith be ours.   Let grace and faith be ours, A lifetime of faith and belief,  For we shall inherit the world.   For we shall inherit the world,  If only you could marry me, Please don’t slide into nothingness,  Allow yourself to be loved,  Allow yourself happiness, For all that you can have, If only, a little faith and walking the talk.

Poetry

The Promise of Tomorrow

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Tomorrow,  Theh waited for her, They said when tomorrow came they would take action, That when tomorrow came,  They would  embrace their true selves, That when tomorrow came, Praise be to God they would all chorus, That when tomorrow came, They would walk down the corridors of justice and make amendments,  That when tomorrow came, They would toil harder than they did yesterday.  So when tomorrow came,  They watched the sun rise, Woke up to their own usual routines,  And again they watched as the sun went down beyond the horizon. 

Poetry

I will Never Say Goodbye

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After you left I felt like I would be broken Like I would crash into a heap Like the world was over for me After you left I mourned my loss On days without end Deep in my heart I felt wounded And wore sackcloth After you left The void I tried to fill But my efforts bore no fruit But now I sing a different tune A song I can only enjoy Because I remembered That you did not want me to mourn you You wanted love,laughter and good tidings for me With time I have learnt to appreciate those moments Get over the hurt Embrace our memories And live with no pain I WILL NEVER SAY GOODBYE!!!

Poetry

To The Dreams I Chase

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To the dreams I chase, Please wait, Why, you may ask, Sometimes it feels like chasing the wind, Sometimes it feels like a river that is constantly on its way elsewhere, Sometimes it feels far fetched, Unattainable. To the dreams I chase, Please wait, Why, you may ask,  I have had times I have no strength left, No willpower to keep moving, Too many hurdles my way, Too many no’s instead of yeses I have faltered Stumbled and fell. To the dreams chase, I want you like yesterday, I want my heart at peace and my mind at ease, I want to tell the world that I finally got a hold of you, Be like a wind beneath my wings. To the dreams I chase, Be my little darling

Poetry

Walled Fortress

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It’s what they are offered, A walled fortress against their impunity,  To also keep of the same breed together,  For they say a mongrel is only for the roaming,  And that a quarter will never make a whole. A quarter will never make a whole, Of even the things they aspire to be, Let us rig this elections, Let us get away with some public funds, Let the long arm of the law try to get a hold of us, Ain’t we the law anyway?  Yes we are, So we will ignore those court summons,  Pay the judge to rule in our favour. Does he even need payment?  Maybe this a hundred acres will do, After all…this land is ours to inherit.  Walled fortress, You leave me wondering how the hell we are supposed to make it, To that other edge of the person you have created a comfort zone for

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?  

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