Afadhali siku za landline

Afadhali siku za landline,
When everything was simple and nothing was inferred.
When conversations were honest and there was no fear,
When humans set no standards and affection was the scale,
When laughs flowed freely and tears flowed with passion,
When pain wasn't the standard and infatuation was the motivation,
When texts were for doctors with pagers and not for subliminal communication.

Afadhali siku za landline,
When everything was simple and nothing was inferred.

Hiroshima

Meaningless yet priceless,
An foolish journey for the intellectual
An impossible hurdle for the broken
A tempestuous storm for selfish.

A game played by all men
A game in which men lose their minds
Where the idiots succeed
And inexperienced bravery sees out the night.

It is a curse
A spell placed upon the Adamite race
A hex which brings pain and joy
Peace and destruction in equal measure.

A necessity we do not need
A riddle without an answer

Youth

Memories of things that were and things that could have been.
A double-edged sword that brings both relief and regret
Pain and joy
Hope and fear

Ooh to be able to savour again
That which was lain before us for our indulgence.
Which our greed denied us the opportunity to enjoy it
A delicacy so richly prepared but so poorly consumed.

It now and forever will saunter,
In the belly of the beast,
The behemoth created by our impatience.
That aborts the ability to live
And lulls us to sleep today
Dream of a better tomorrow

Is it too late or
It is too late?

Music for the deaf

Could she twirl?
Turn in beautiful melodic motion,
Interpret the music with her movement,
Sing the song with all but her voice?

I had heard about it but never knew what music was,
What melodies sound like,
The richness of a beautiful tune,
The melancholy of the minor chord.

Till she shewed me what music is,
With her movement, her body, her soul;
How the world listens with its ears...
No, how the world should listen to music.

Giving insight to a deaf man on the virtues of music,
The beauty of melodies,
In a way men with ears haven't heard before.

Dance for me forever,
And don't heal my deafness,
For to hear as men do would be to deny me the beauty of her grace,
It would be to blind me to the only silent expression of music I know.

Forever dance for me,
Dance for me forever.

Harry

It is wretched, it is fatal
It is glorious, it is brilliant.

To enjoy life's finer details,
To enjoy what commonfolk cannot.
Ooh to indulge in pleasures,
Pleasures so sacred, no man can buy them.
An experience no man can put a price on.

To hate with a hatred so cruel,
Because you have been robbed,
Robbed of perfection of the object you once worshipped.
A robbery so stealth, ordinary men will not notice the difference.

It is wretched, it is fatal
It is glorious, it is brilliant

Six stringer

My baby don't talk much but when she talks, she produces the sweetest sounds I know.
She doesn't cry out for attention but her eyes betray her; and melt my heart.

She ain't 100 degrees hot but she sure is as fine as the word could be.
Sleek and beautiful, not too flashy but stylish. That's how I like them and I got myself a good deal.

She's a storyteller, telling stories of times that were, times present and times to come. Rich in history and possesses a tongue, wise like that of a serpent.

Beauty is encased in her body, where the heart reverberates with brilliance. Right in her bosom where all fears, worries bad anxieties are settled. Where hope is rekindled and joy set ablaze

I love you my love

My guitar

Cut-and-dried

Nice tux, good clean nice tux.
Perfect haircut: hair beard and all,
Fashion Omega watch,
Brilliantly polished shoes.

Perfect wife,
Beautiful in every sense of the word,
Perfect stride
Proper make-up
There's no room for 99%, it's all or nothing.

All eyes on them,
Focused attention,
There is none more perfect,
None more enviable,

Or so it seems.

Valentine

Darkness engulfs the whole land.
Dull, heavy nimbus clouds block out the sunlight,
And in a matter of moments, releases the contents of its belly,
Wrecking destruction and yet, giving life to the land that so desperately longs for a refreshing.

A bolt of electricity lights the dark skies,
Momentarily revealing the beauty engulfed by the darkness.
Escorted briefly by a thunderous roar that shakes the foundation of our souls.

Then follows the calm silence that is the raindrops, beating on the iron sheets.
For the madness that preceded it: beauty and craze,
Makes this feel like a drop in the ocean.
And just like that, a beautiful moment in time passes.
Etched only in the canvas of our memories

Sorcerers' well

He is the devil
She is the devil
They are the devils.

The devil is all around us,
Masquerading in various shapes and sizes; looks and appearances.
Whispering in our ears,
Holding placards to our faces.

But always hiding his face,
Veiled under the shadow of deceit.
The face that remains consistent
The face unknown.

One day she took my hand,
And led me to a well,
A well not so shallow but neither so deep,
Nonetheless, magic resided within.

Look keenly, search with your eye.
The enemy resides in your household,
A person you know intimately.
Look and tell me who you see.

I looked and searched,
With my eyes and with my heart.
And I saw the devil's face,
So attractive, so beautiful,
So me!!

Feminist speak

Today being the year TWENTY SHE-XTY. the year of our Lord and or Lady

Today is a great day for Womankind and all her folk. We have finally got our victor(ia) that shall (s)henceforth be recognised with the changes in the naming of the number six to she-x and many other pheno(wo)menal changes to the Queen's language thus restoring the pride and dignity that the patriarchal half of the society has for so long denied us.

Rise up now all ye women, No longer shall we be the slave(ttes) of those who have so long tried to suppress us. The chauvinists who continue to belittle our cause, who try to resist the wheels of Justi(nna). Always putting up the Men at work signs in an effort to create potholes on the road to freedom. No longer shall the signs of the patriarchal age dominate. A dawn comes upon the night blurring out the night that is the age of inequality and with it, the rise of the age of a new balance. disrupting all s(h)ocial order, closing the pages of history and rewriting a new shestory. We will no longer speak of the story of the lion and the hunter for none of them concern us. Now we shall tell the tale of the lioness and the huntress; the Pocahantas and Brave-heart. We are rewriting shestory, the kind of shestory Cleopatra would be proud of. We shall sing aloud praises of Marie Curie. Not of Napoleon and Hitler, of Obama and Blair.

This is our time. Stand tall. Justinna is served. The scales of Justinna now swing to our advantage.
This is Feminist Victoria

Autofocus

Undivided love.
Singular devotion.
If a man was to commit to these and these only:

Tunnelling vision,
Patient commitment.

Teaching his heart to desire,
For desire exceeds want.
While pulling the reigns of his heart
Training it to reject its list of lusts,

Breaking the cycle of broken men,
Reversing the trend of dysfunctional societies,

Then probably we could say:
I am a man and a man is who I am.

The lull after the storm

The harsh winds constantly beat against the sails by night,
Threatening to rip them apart.

The unforgiving midday sun bears down on the sailors,
Promising to bury them in hot humidity.

Eventually the ship docks at port.
No lives lost and a hull that is intact.

The reminders of nature's wrath,
Broken splinters and sunburnt skins,
Sign off as memorabilia

Of all that was; the beauty and strength, the valour and courage.

Trophies that only shine bright.
In the lull after the storm

The owl

Short days and long nights

Days blanketed in noise
Nights filled with silence.

Times when men walk in the company of each other
Times when men share the company of themselves.

When work gets done
And when thoughts get made.

Eventually craving for longer days
And quietly appreciating the short nights

Where periods no longer consist of seconds
And neither are moments measured in time.

He is

A man comes built with two things

Pride, so that he may have something of worth to hold on to, and

A heart to feel, feel all that the wretched world of men has to offer.

He is fashioned to use his pride as a sword. A tool to cut beyond the veil of impossibility
His heart, a shield to protect all that he values.

And when his sword dents, for his pride will soon be when he meets an obstacle in battle,
He won't be left with a sharp edge.  Only shame.
Which by the sharpening of, he shall overcome.

But when his shield shatters, he is made handicapped. Unable to craft another, he is left partially helpless.
His only choice, a specialist, a healer.
Only by whom, he shall rise up boldly anew.

His dignity he may recover,
But his heart needs a surgeon.

Friends

1:15 pm Fate or destiny

Time for her lunch break. At least that is what her body clock indicated. Not forgetting it was also time for her lunch hour walk, where she divorced herself from the computer screen which like an infant, was constantly in control of her mental and physical faculties. Time to leave the blue walls constituted by the corporate overlords designed to enslave her till her retirement, death or resignation, whichever she would choose to surrender her fate to.

1:16 pm Carl

Carl: So where are you going to have your lunch today Miss?
She: Nowhere in particular if you really want to know
Carl: Would you like me to take you to a new Italian restaurant that opened shop the other day
She: Not really, I need fresh air, not really a meal
Carl: You're sure
She: Yup. See you later!!!

1:17 pm Sunshine

There is something different about sunshine hitting you from the open compared to a few UV rays sneaking past the windows on tenth floor. More like swimming with fishes you own rather than watching them from the aquarium you rented from that uptown shop. Keeping up with the Joneses has its own disadvantages like not being able to have a relationship with your property. Only constant staring contests with the humongous house you got a mortgage on that you never get to enjoy because you are busy working late to pay it off; beauty pageants for your expensive phones every weekend when at lunch with your friends and staring contests with your dog because it is only there for the visitors to see and not for your security or company. If she was going to pay the mortgage and watch fishes swim in a glass tank in her living quarters, she thought she ought to at least enjoy one free thing, and for her, it was the gift of sunshine.

1:18 pm The King's Bench

He sat there as usual on his bench facing the tall blue buildings of the economic kings. It was not really his bench. It belonged to the City Council. However, after faithfully sitting on it for so many months, the people who passed there often had quietly and willingly acknowledged the bench as his and let him be. Men and women sat on other adjacent benches without ever bothering him. Probably because they also did not like the fact that he was a street urchin, and a suspicious one at that because he never opened his mouth to utter a word. He didn't stretch out his hand for handouts or help, neither did he have a cup for collecting coins. Once in a while during the lunch hour break, a coin or two was handed to him, to which he bowed in response to that gesture, but nothing more. Something else brought him there, a daily routine, an obsession, a prescription.

1:19 pm Company

 She walked towards benches as she always did. Admiring the freedom the bird had and wishing she were as they were. And she slowly approached her favourite spot in the environment, a bench with a King. She smiled at the man who smiled back at her and sat on the bench next to him. She put her hand into her bag and produced a transparent plastic bag containing the remains of her vegetable sandwich, which she had only had a bit of in the morning when rushing to work. She handed it to the mute who gratefully accepted it and went straight to consuming it. And as he did so, she stared at the birds, breathed in the air and enjoyed his company. As soon as he was done eating she smiled, got up and left.....  

The shroud

A coffin that holds men for a certain while,
Not dead but sleeping men,
Held there not by their own desires,
Veiled by the choices they made.

Men who lie there still and immobile,
Shielded away from the sunshine and the light.
Men with hopes and dreams,
Plans and ambitions,
Awaiting the one key that releases them,
Before the undertaker takes them under.

Opportunity is all around us they say,
Each opportunity, a key to a gateway to work.
But like a bunch of keys, only one opens the main door,
Unlocking a mansion filled with rooms endless.

And so,
Only one key unlocks the casket,
And one master who turns the key in its place to open,

The coffin of obscurity

Laments of a generous driver

A dedication to all those Kenyans who give people free lifts in their rides. I hope I will be able to appropriately present your sentiments.

If you are a driver, probably drive your own car or have one that is under your care, you probably have heard the words,

"Niaje bro, si unidunge lift hadi base x?"

Or in the case of a female,

"Hey Lelli (insert smiley face). can you please drop me at base x?"

*base x being your destination of choice

Problem number one

It so happens these requests sometimes are presented at the most inconvenient times especially when you are going in a totally different direction. Of course it won't be much of a problem if you are both heading in the same direction but if you are heading in a totally different way, there arises problem number one.
If you are a dude, you know it is easier to tell a fellow dude no and they will harbour no hard feelings. After all, catching feelings is for he weak. However, saying no becomes much more of a mountainous task when the request is presented by a member of the opposite sex. you have to be more understanding and all that emotional stuff you have to be sensitive to.

Me to dude: "Zii, siendi hiyo direction"
Dude to me: "Sawa, tuchekiane morrow basi."

Me to chic: "Eeeerm....... Well......."

Problem number two

After establishing the time of departure and the destination, suddenly, especially in the case of the female race, three or four other passengers will appear at the designated time and spot. A plus three is the maximum if you have a five seater, anything more than that is attempting to mock the traffic gods that randomly parade our roads. so usually the driver has to find a way of breaking one of their hearts or breaking the law. I think I should call this 2(a) because....

The second problem 2(b) is if the self-invited passengers make themselves comfortable and fill the little air left in the car with their conversations and totally exclude you as if you are  taxi driver and not a new acquaintance. It is like coming to my house and talking about my dog instead of talking to me.

Then at times, they may leave some litter in the car as if their handbags have no room for the wrappings they threw around. Or in the case of dudes, have no hands and feet to escort the litter to the nearest dustbin.

Ooh and insisting you change your playlist or the radio station as if they do not have multimedia enabled mobile phones.
CARRY YOUR OWN RADIO AND EARPHONES!!!!

The worst part of accommodating unexpected passengers is that they are now seated in the seat reserved for your imaginary friend and now you have to relegate the poor dude to the boot.
Or you thought we open the boot when people come to dump our laptops in there???
LEAVE SPACE FOR THE IMAGINARY FRIEND. Back left preferably


Problem number three

In the case of ladies usually,

Lady: "Can we stop at this supermarket I buy something?"

Me in my head: what option do I have?
Me to lady: Sure

Lady: goes and spends an eternity there. Does monthly shopping (and it is mid-month), sees a beautician, catches up with friends she bumped into and whatever else that can be conceived as possible.

Problem number four

This is the deal breaker. The meat in the sandwich. The big cahuna. The meat in the buffet.

Fuel, FUel, FUEl, FUEL.

As a driver, you probably have a blacklist of friends especially who ask for lifts and never for once offer to fuel. And they will ask you to drop them off at Big Square or Java or Art Caffe to go meet their pals, yet they are apparently too broke to help you fuel your car.
Though it might be important at this stage to mention, fuel is budgeted for. When a driver fuels his car, he or she has an idea of how much distance the fuel should cover. So in essence, the fuel is designed to help him reach home at the end of the day and home only. Any other extra distances is up to you as the passenger to cover. After all, your extra trips are not in a driver's budget, are they?

And please, fuel tanks run only on petrol and diesel. They do not accept the following:
 1. Thank you
 2. God bless you

If you ever served that for supper or traded it in at a supermarket and can prove it, we will gladly accept your tokens.

PS: We might not ask you to fuel because we may be feeing rich or because of our ego. However, if you offer, we will take note of your good manners and cross you off our blacklists. And stop praying to God to punish you with the blessing of a car so that you may suffer as you have made others before you to.

Love in a kiddie meal

Sink your teeth into it,
Let the juices splash onto your tongue,
Let the bread melt in thine mouth,
Till the sweetness of the mayo,
And the sharpness of the chilli,
Do a ballet's dance.

The bread characteristically soft,
The lettuce deceivingly crunchy.
One plant processed and cooked,
Another harvested and raw.

The glory of the meal found in the meat,
Thinly cut pieces but big on taste.
All other ingredients, encompassing the main agenda,
Sweet and salty, hot yet cool.

My sandwich experience

Tongues of men, you fail me

She opened her mouth and out flowed words,
To a listening ear that she had longed for.
He didn't hear much. Heck, he can't even recall a full sentence.
But his ears heard. His brain processed.

She shut her mouth when her words ran out.
Sighs of the heart in languages unspeakable was all that was rumbling now.
Then he listened.
His heart listened, their souls communed.
An understanding soul, a listening heart:
all she ever needed.

Tongues of men, you fail me.

God dead in Garissa

"Our present state is a factor of our past actions,
Our present reality is a factor of our perception of the future"

Lelli Mandela

To effectively answer the question where was God during the death of the students in Garissa, one must not ask finite questions but must demand to understand infinite reality.
A reality simply put is a transcendence of perceptions based on facts to a perception based on unchanged truth. To accept that there is a truth that may defy present facts in time and may offer higher insight into what is real.

There has been an argument that the massacre happened either because God is not real or is altogether present but unable to save. I could take this time to argue out whether God is real but that is not why I have sacrificed my words today.
God was present and watching as it happened. Probably even shed a few tears for He has emotions too.  If I were Him, I would have cried over the unnecessary manner in which the young people had to die. Maybe mourn for the killers for they have not yet known my love and will spend eternity separated from it.

Time is a factor of eternity. Death just a transition into another state. Death is not such a big deal  as men see it. It is a big deal if it was final, if there was no eternal hope. If there was no heaven or hell. I think I may do well at this point to declare that I have a working soul so yes, it is a big deal as a man.

The Bible says do not mourn as those who have no hope. Hope speaks not of the present but of the future. That is what the gospel promises, an eternal hope. Something that helps us live our present lives rather than exist for like 80 years.

God may have altogether failed to save our comrades because of hope, not because he is incapable of interfering in human affairs. If he were to interfere in every death and stop all unreasonable manner of descending to the grave, then we would have nothing to look forward to after death. Maybe death was the most selfless way of giving man a glimpse into eternity.