Wednesday, 5 March 2014

A Little Too Late?

There is an African saying that says a dying ear will not be healed despite all sorts of medication. It is true in my case. And in many other peoples lives; at least I am finally brave enough to admit the ugly truth.
How many times have I been down this road? How many times have I vowed that what was going to be the last time? For how long will I let myself down?
Its my fourth time in he hospital. My face filled with bruises and my bedsisde table filled with fresh, brightly colored roses bursting with life and tons of get well cards.
I am in a private room of course with a sign reading no visitors allowed because you see my husband is a respected man in the society. No one must know. He is the golden man. Handsome and filled with charisma. He emits power and respect that makes everyone who stands before him want to stand stairghter and to always refer to him as Mister or Mkubwa. I am of course the regal poised wife who always smiles politely and makes every woman wish to be me.
At least this time I managed to let my sister know where I was. Lonliness can be too much sometimes that I would rather have my sister tell me I told you so than to stare at the blinding white of the hospital walls keeping me captive.
I tell myself that I dont know how things got bad or what changed but deep down I know its a lie. I know exactly what happened. I was not blind; I just chose to look the other way. I didn't want to be the fool who let the man with great potential go. I was momentarily blinded by stupid hope for a happy ever after where the frog turns into a fine prince after seeing the errors of his ways and whisks my away into a golden sunset. 
It all started by a remark that seemed harmless, then an insult followed by lavish gifts. Time came with money, prosperity and of course arrogance and the rest was history.
I knew I was in trouble but how could I leave when he was running for office? Then I was the lady besides mheshimiwa. Another name for a puppet. "How can you leave mheshimiwa?" They say. "You have everything. Stop whining and count your blessings" Well my blessings landed me here with more than a broken bone and no self worth.
I blame myself. I was warned more than once but I was too head strong. You see I was in love. The roses, the gifts and the sweet words made things a little confusing.Its been years; almost half of my life gone like dew before the morning sun. I have forgoten how to laugh and how to live. I hope its not too late for me to pick up the little pieces that are still left.

Thursday, 6 February 2014


I see him and my heart melts
His smile makes my feet shake
The sound of his voice makes my insides feel warm
And a touch  of his hand makes me feel loved
If this is not love
Then I dont know what love is

He holds his hand in mine with pride
And his eyes light up with joy when am in sight
He seeks me out for comfort
Just as he does when hurt and needs help
Wouldn't you say this is love?

I hold his head on my chest
As he falls asleep every evening
He sights in his sleep
And I know that he too is contented
I know he loves me too

So go to sleep little nephew of mine
Aunty is watching over you

I Give Up

I give up
I give up
I raise my hands in surrender
And admit I that I cannot do it anymore
I am not weak
Oh no am not
But I give up
Just because I realize
That I am actually stronger
Stronger than those jeering faces
Those prejudiced voices
Trying to make me conform
I give up trying to fit in
Because I am different
And different is okay
I give up
Yes I give up
And I am not going to hang my head I shame
Just because I accept that I am different
And different is not wrong

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Dance of The Dead

I dance on this grave with mirth
I sing with glee as i twist and turn
I have never been this merry
You may say I am cold
I will say you are right
Because it's true
Beneath the soil am dancing on
Is the old me
The old me full of stupid ignorance
Along with my warm heart
Buried deep down the soil
The old me that was killed by the society
Expecting too much from me
Now am happy
Dancing around with my cold heart
That cares nothing of the hypocritical society
That killed the good old me.

posted from Bloggeroid

Saturday, 25 January 2014

Ashamed to be Kenyan

Will I be painted a traitor when I say I am no longer proud to be a Kenyan? 
Will I be labeled a whites man groupie when i say id rather go away to the white mans land?
What will you call me when I say all I think of is the other world depicted as Canaan 
Far away from this God forsaken Egypt?
Call me a traitor I say again
But every time  I close my eyes i see i dream of smooth roads
I dream of my little son playing in a colorful gym as i look on
I dream of a life 
where my hard work pays off fairly
Not where the boss takes what is rightfully yours
I long for a government that will take care of its retirees
Who contributed to the fund only to be left out in the cold
I long for a government 
Which will let my taxes work for me
Not one that makes me pay tax for the litattle chicken i keep
For that visitor who drops in unannounced
Or for my children during the festive season
I am ashamed of my government
I ashamed of my leaders
I am proud to be Kenyan,
But am not proud to be this kind of  Kenyan

Friday, 17 January 2014


she walks and swings
her wares on her woven head
her skin is dark
her lips are thick with a natural pout
she ties her kanga but bares her breast
and ahead she forges
they call her mraia,
i call her super woman 

she tends her goats and cooks the meals
its in the hot dessert sun but she does it all
they say she is backward
i admire her resilience
while we have all transformed
to the white man's way
she keeps strong 
with her fat from the goats
and traditional body markings
she weaves her house and weaves her beads
she walks with pride and holds her head high

I and I

l took a chance I took  wrong turn,
I made a choice I picked the wrong side
I said I lacked courage I know I lied
I wonder sometimes if I did right
Most of the times I hope i never find out
I gaze ahead my eyes are glazed
I see nothing there is a haze blocking my sight
I dream I wish I hope
I am afraid to reach out
I might and yet grasp nothing
I wonder I am scared
I know it could be that day
It could be that day I dread
I hope its not
I know its coming
I know I will never be ready