poetry

Poetry

Dashed hopes: Shattered Dreams

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Do you see them, Young energetic and eager, Their faces brightened with hope the day they walked out of those educational institutions, With their certificates, diplomas and degrees, Their mission, To contribute and change a small part of their world.   Do you see him, How he makes promises on every public platform and behind every microphone? Of economic growth, How he will address unemployment, Jobs, jobs, jobs, Technologia.   Do you see them, The factories, The foreign companies, The way they close shop every day, The way the cotton farms, the pyrethrum farms, the sugarcane farms, the textile EPZ, Did you notice how they faded into thin air? Yet every year, Children of the nation filled with hope, They hope to earn a decent wage, Live decent lives.   Do you see them scavenging? Their ID and certificates at hand. He will gather them at the public arena, Remind them of his humble beginnings, The son of a peasant, Making a name for himself amongst the political bigwigs, How he built from scratch, He started with an egg, And now is the biggest distributor of eggs in the east, west, north and south, That if they work a little hard, They will get there, That they should give him another political term to fulfill all his promises.   Dashed hopes, Politically killed dreams.

Poetry

Voiceless Little Girls

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I was shut down and asked to avoid the spotlight.

They say little girls shouldn’t be immersed in a man’s world,

Little girls shouldn’t be engaged in politics,

Little girls shouldn’t be anyone’s pawns,

Little girls should therefore not have a voice of their own,

Poetry

Sensational Sound Bytes: #protestpoem

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The political elite, The ones we elected after a mountain of promises were made, On those days when they spent hours on end on the campaign trail, Do you see how they laugh at us now?   Our lives, Mere sound bites for them, Another opportunity to sell their agenda on national television, Yet we keep giving them airtime.   We became footnotes, Forgotten, Our parents, living in fear, Threatened about how well they raised us, A barometer of whether we deserve to be abducted or not. A barometer for the guarantee of our safety and security.   We must end this impunity! Let’s make our voices count, Our ballots, our shield and defender! Come next election, Dawn will find us at the polling station!

Poetry

She was just but a little girl.

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She was just but a little girl, Living her life and enjoying her childhood, Trying to make memories, That would last her a lifetime.   She was just but a little girl, When they killed her dreams and aspirations   She was just but a little girl, When they married her to a 70-year-old man.   She was just but a little girl, When they pinned her down so he could put his manhood into her.   She was just but a little girl, Holding onto a little girl Hoping that she doesn’t grow up so soon, For the world was ready, But she wasn’t ready to go.   She wasn’t ready, For her little one to become another child bride, This story would have turned out differently, Is a song she sings in her head.   She was just but a little girl, Wishing, hoping, and now, She sheds a tear, Then a river, She hopes that this is not ocean bound.    

Poetry

What lies!

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He told so many lies he forgot what the truth looked like, He sowed seeds of hope that he could not keep up with, He took away from the poor their last dime in the name of development, Then he vanished until the next elections.   Now we see him walking, He wants to be relatable, So, he left his range rover at the edge of the village.   He knocks on every door, Accepting the cup of tea offered with disdain, He is selling his manifesto again A humble servant of the people, He wants us to re-elect him, That he will finish tarmacking the old Nairobi Road. That the government hospital will finally get a new x-ray machine in his new term, That the new health insurance will finally cover the poor Eti afya yangu bima yangu.   He came with his usual bribe, A 50 bob here and there, A packet of unga, He left feeling accomplished, That a difference he had made.   We looked at him disappear, We now know his tactics, Tomorrow we will show up at the ballot box and vote for change, We are tired! And we finally realize that it has always been our decision to make!    

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!  

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