ME VS ME WHO ISN'T ME

He speaks within me,
The me who is not me
He tells me
That I don't belong here
That I should stage a search
For my roots.

He speaks within me
The me who is me
He pats my shoulder gently
Tells me,
Son, search not
For its here, where you belong.

He speaks within me
The me who isn't me
He rattles my comfort
He stirs the pond
Later settling at the bottom
When ripples die off
He disfigures my identity
And like a complex jigsaw
It takes eternity to re figure
He claims I have a funny long nose
Unlike my sister's which is flat
Like one of a true Bantu
He says I'm dumb in class
Quite unlike my mother
Who always topped
He drives me nuts 
With his constant reminder
That I'm not the me I claim to be..

He speaks within me
The me who is me
He is caring and compassionate
He reminds me of old days
When children belonged
To the society
He cuddles me closely
He assures me
That it's not looks that matter 
Neither traits nor genes
He insists it's the heart
The soul, the touch
The scare when sickness engulfs at midnight
The joy when growth milestones are achieved......

He strongly insists its the love;
Even conception is a child of lovemaking!


Identity is the soul of any human being, lack of it is disastrous especially in an African setting, confusion about it is even more catastrophic  regardless of the setting. What really defines ones identity?

KAMUNYAK (THE BLESSED ONE)

Hers was a big heart
So big it defied laws
Of the jungle
So big predator instincts
Didn't stand a chance.

She defied her very kind
Stood by what
Was naturally unnatural
Starved while her supposed prey
Played along with her tail.

Her memory thrives within me
The tender touches
The comforting cuddles
The unwavering generosity
The endless affection..........

Her story made news
Hollywood came knocking
Theatres bust with crowds
Word went out like bush fire
History books were written:

About a weird creature
About an unnatural motherhood
About defiance towards laws of nature
About dumping of predatory culture 
About the number of tourists
About foreign exchange earned

But none
About the LOVE so rare
That an oryx found inside a lair.

  

 Kamunyak (meaning "Blessed one") was a lioness who had adopted six oryx calves in the Samburu National Reserve, Kenya.

KAWAIRIMU

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.

Peace loving like a little dove
Sweet voice like the weaver bird
Smoothness of ripe sweet bananas
Come closer so I sing for you:

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.

Brown but not too brown
Dark but not too dark
We can only call it chocolate
Come closer so I sing for you:

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.

Teeth, white as milk
A heart, pure as snow
Love, expansive as the sea
Come closer so I sing for you:

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.

When she's near my heart beats hard
My ears sweat profusely
Even my hands tremble
Come closer so I sing for you:

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.

When you see her, tell her I'm lonely
I lack joy in my heart
Life has lost taste
Come closer so I sing for you:

Little Wairimu, little Wairimu
Little dove of my heart
Little girl come I'll sing
For you a lullaby.


*This is a translation of a song  I originally composed for my wife in my native language Gikuyu. But which I find to be as poetic as any other piece I've written before.

JUST A PIECE FOR PEACE

Grant me leave oh peace

To recite this humble piece

To make some literary noise

To break into your precocious silence

To positively provoke you

To stage a coup

Against agents of twisted truth.

Grant me leave oh peace

To recite this humble piece

Just to say

How much we need you peace

Midst these sectarian red faces

Decorated with withered red roses

Immersed in hateful dry vases

Hoisted on tribal aces.

Grant me leave oh peace

To place politicians’ inciting words

On my poetic sieve

To let through

Only what is fit

For mass consumption

Relevant to ethnic integration

Antidote for financial segregation.

Grant me leave oh peace

I beg you on my knees

To be patient with us as we stitch

Together our moral panties

Now melting away like cheese

On a hot pan of injustice

Ignited by our souls labeled “to lease”

In a balkanized political feast.

Grant me leave oh peace

To recite this humble piece

Solemnly requesting you peace

To please stay with us

As we sweep out

Injustice from our house

As we mop out segregation

Out of our nation

As we crush out corruption

As we eliminate starvation

As we flush out

The remnants of the hateful filth

We are fed on everyday

Please peace

Be here to stay.

Grant me leave oh peace

To recite this humble piece

In peace

To sew together the pieces

Of this coat of 42 hues

To provide you

With the warmth you need

To keep you

From taking leave, oh peace

SUGUTA VALLEY

Engraved at the core of nature’s beauty

Truncating hillocks and dipping valleys

A true manifestation of creation’s marvel

That such a masterpiece can kill

Is a reality that thrills.

Many venture here to prove their military masculinity

Others out of sheer lust for wild femininity

All oblivious of the hovering vultures

Eager to pick the little flesh

Left on their skeletons after the adventure.

Here wise counsel takes back seat

Bullet proof vests are just distracting weight

Uncomfortable beneath Suguta’s caressing heat

It’s romoured the heat offers a therapeutic treat

After all death is for soldiers to cheat.

So beauty too can collaterally destroy

Especially when devoured carelessly

Like a bee addicted to nectar, continuously

But still men cruise the seven seas

To explore this hive and till death won’t cease.

Suguta valley, where men meet death

I mean Sinorita’s feminine valley

Where men endanger their health.

Suguta Valley is a valley in Kenya's Samburu County where dozens of police officers were recently brutally murdered by cattle rustlers.

KSHS. ONE WARM HUG ONLY

That human can be valued

Really puzzles me

Is it the weight, height

Looks or colour that matters?

Show me this market

Where babies are traded

Like omena, are they weighed in baskets

Or like sheep, paraded?

Are you a party to the bargains

That set a life’s ultimate price

What benefit do you stand to gain

By ignoring that life is priceless?

Show me this up-market exhibition

Where children bear price tags

Then, I’ll tell you of adoption

Where a baby’s price

Is just one warm hug.

CHILD OF NO-MOTHER

I’m a child who dislikes affection

Who alike a lone leopard

Is untamable

I’m the naïve gazelle

Who strays from his herd
Into the cannibal wild

I’m the lamb that prefers

To suckle not from its mother’s tits

But would rather sip from a caring farmer’s drip

I’m one who searched

Vast hills and deep valleys

Amongst Christians, Muslims, atheists, Buddhists ….

Searched till I found

A million reasons not to search anymore

Searched for the keys to my home

While they were right inside humanity’s soul

Searched till I realized

I’m a child of no-mother

Coz n in your inhuman pre-occupation

You believe

Children belong to none other

Than the womb that bore them.

I’m a child of no-mother

Coz you all have forgotten

Mark 10:14

Let the children come to me….

I’m a child of no-mother

Coz you’ve forgotten Mose, Easter..

From your last Sunday summon.

I’m a child of no-mother

Coz you’ve chosen

To offer love selectively

As it suits your ungodliness
I’m a child of no-mother
Coz you are still a slave
Of your backward customs 

I’m a child of no-mother

Coz you’ve abdicated your duty

To be my fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters…

Family…………

I’m a child of no-mother

Who later found his no-mother

To whom he was all that mattered

I’m whom children of mothers evaded

Like a leaper

Whom their mothers

Had warned them about

One from the no-mothers tree

That bore no fruits

A harvest from a foreign garden.

I’m one who had no relatives

I was the uninvited guest

In a family feast

So I was fed on crumbs

After toiling like a beast

As children of mothers

Cheered me on.

But by the grace

I’m no longer a child of no-mother

But a child of no.1 mother

Who has turned out

To be the best mother

You all refused to be

I’m no child of no mother

I’m not an orphan as you presume

I’m just among the blessed few

Who had the privilege of dual parenthood

I’m not an abandoned child as you may think

I’m the cog without which

Marital bliss would not flourish

I’m the bud from which

A family lineage emerges

I’m the joy and laughter in kraals

Suffocating in the stigma

Of childlessness

I’m the living proof

Of the existence of  humanity that's selfless

I’m not an outcast

I’m just a hero in waiting

The future Nobel Laurette

The future miss world

I’m tomorrow’s hope

For the millions of children of no-mothers.