A Boring Christmas

You are licking your oily fingers,

After munching a fat Chicken thigh,

I am watching Boring Christmas carol singers,

And I am high.

You are taking selfies in a plane,

Captioned,” Holiday Manenos,”

What I plan to do I cannot explain,

And where I will go only God knows.

You are having a good time with your family,

And you are receiving gifts from your friend,

I am broke and lonely,

Wondering when Christmas will end.

You are dancing in a night club and getting sweaty,

You say the party should not stop,

I am already thinking of 2020,

If at all an album I will drop.

If I sell a few copies that year,

And enjoy a little bit of fame,

Then I will cheer,

And sing of a Jesus born in Bethlehem.

(image:www.deskgram.com)

Nelson My Husband

Nelson my husband has rather big buttocks,
They look like those of a woman,
And his voice is annoyingly smooth,
Like a girl singing a Christmas carol.

Nelson my husband snores,
At a time he is supposed to me riding me,
When I try to nudge him with my knees,
He twitches and turns to face the other side.

Nelson my husband calls me an immoral woman,
When I reach down to pull out his underused manhood,
He says Christians do not behave like that,
That sex is only for procreation and not for pleasure.

Nelson my husband has never seen me naked during the day,
He cannot identify my naked,headless body,
Because he does not create time to know it nor study it,
To know when it is starving and when it is satiated.

Nelson my husband cannot identify my scars,
He cannot identify my thighs,
He cannot identify my busts,
Nelson my husband cannot identify my vagina in a parade of vaginas.

(photo courtesy of www.atlantablackstar.com)

OPINION: It is time for youths to work two jobs. Tragedy is that they don’t even have one

My neighbour and a close family friend works as a branch manager for a Bank. A good job. Lucrative even. It pays well. A salary of over One Hundred Thousand per month can only be a dream come true for many people, if not all. To supplement her already good income, she has a side hustle. She buys raw groundnuts (G-nuts) from the market, fries them and then sells them in small packages each going for Kshs 50. Most of her customers are the Bank employees who find her G-nuts a perfect accompaniment during tea break.

“You have a well-paying job. Why do you trouble yourself with this G-nuts business? It does not even give you much, does it?” I asked her one evening when we were having one of our regular fellowship time. We were discussing the importance of work from a Biblical perspective. And should I mention that we were enjoying some hot coffee with G-nuts? Her G-nuts?

She does not get huge profits from her G-nuts business but at least she gets something small. That is what she said. She continued to add that this time we are living in, one cannot rely on one job only. There are just too many obligations to be met. After tax and other deductions (NSSF, NHIF,PAYE, et cetera), one has to pay rent. Pay electricity and water bills. Pay garbage collection fee. Take care of one’s sibling’s school fees. Pay one’s children’s school fees. Pay tithe. Send money home. Contribute towards Church Harambee, Contribute to Chama. Pay back loans (Mortgage, car loan, M-shwari loan, KCB-Mshwari loan, HELB loan, Chama loan, TALA loan, et cetera). Contribute towards a friend’s wedding. Go to the salon. Stock a month’s supply of food. Take care of transport for the whole month. Airtime. Internet Data. Service the car. Fuel. Charity work. Send money home (again) towards development projects and many more.

In short. It is not enough. And that is why she has to work two jobs. It is true. Time is nigh for youths to work two jobs to make ends meet. If we, youths, have to break the financial ceiling, we have to think along working two jobs. Or else we shall get stuck in single rooms and bed-sitters. We shall postpone getting married. We shall forget about visiting our parents back at home. Nor send them money. We shall continue to shun pregnancies we are responsible for. We shall continue to hide from our debtors. We shall continue to wallow in depression. We shall do drugs and get into criminal activities.

In “successful” countries like America, working two jobs is the norm. It is not their choice to burden themselves with two or more jobs. It is just the direction the world is taking and the earlier we catch up the better. Tragedy is that in a country like ours, majority of youths do not have even one job. Official statistics from Kenya National Bureau of statistics (KNBS) March 2018 survey estimates that a whopping 7 Million Kenyans are unemployed.

If a person earning more than Kshs 100,000 needs a side hustle to barely stay afloat in this economy, how about a person earning less than Kshs 50,000? And how worse can it get for someone who does not have a job?  How can someone who does not have a job survive in a system or economy which runs on two jobs per individual? This is why the government needs to take the issue of youth unemployed very seriously. If it were possible, all government and non-governmental projects should be stopped and all energy and resources directed towards creating jobs for the youths and/or supporting them to start their own businesses. A government which truly cares for its future should put the interest of its youths in the forefront and nothing else. No other way around it.

(idle youths courtesy of www.nation.co.ke)

Lessons We Can Learn About Childlessness From MacGoye's novel," Coming To Birth."

I came across a sad story published in The Standard on Friday 19th October 2018. Titled," In-laws kick out childless widow after husband dies," the story narrates the plight of Josephine Achieng, a widow whose house was demolished by her in-laws for allegedly failing to bear a child. Achieng, as the story goes, had only stayed with her husband for three years before he died. In those three years, they had not gotten a child but they were not worried as they believed children come from God and they would be blessed with one in God's own time.

Despite the stride we have made in the field of science, literature (feminism) and religion, childlessness still remains a thorny issue. It becomes worse in a society like ours that still puts heavy burden on women who are taking too long to bear children. The consequences of this pressure to bear children have ranged from suicide, depression to infidelity and such cases of women being disowned by their relatives like that one of Achieng.

While reading the story of Achieng, I could not help but think of Paulina Akeyo, the protagonist character in the novel,"Coming to Birth" by Marjorie Oludhe McGoye. Paulina was only sixteen years old when she got married to Martin Were who was twenty three. The two got married in 1956. The same year, Paulina become pregnant. She would later suffer a miscarriage after relocating to Nairobi with Martin.

Paulina suffered many miscarriages and whenever she travelled home, her in-laws were greatly disappointing in her. This state of childlessness caused a lot of trouble in Martin's family. The in-laws put a lot of pressure on them. This drove Paulina to move away from home and Martin to start seeing another woman. One day, Paulina visited Martin and found him with Fatima (the woman he was seeing). When Paulina introduced herself, Fatima asked her," And you are the mother of who?" This infuriated Paulina.

In 1961,five years later, Paulina was still childless. Martin's sisters  even suggested she gets pregnant with another man but she was reluctant. While Martin went as far as removing his wedding ring, Paulina never thought of cheating. In fact, she preoccupied herself with studies at the homecraft school.

In 1965, nine years into her childless marriage, Paulina succumbed to temptation and cheated on Martin with a man named Simon. She got a son and named him Martin. During a protest in Kisumu against President Kenyatta, Martin died from a gunshot wound. This loss awaken Paulina's senses and she travelled back to Nairobi to re-unite with Martin.

The story of Martin Were and Paulina Akeyo ends on a positive note when Paulina notices that she is pregnant. This novel teaches us a lot of important lessons on childlessness. One lesson we can learn is that the night maybe long and dark but joy comes in the morning. It might take five, ten or even twenty years but in the end, a child or even children may come.

Another lesson we can learn is that infidelity is not the solution to childlessness. Martin cheated on Paulina with Fatima and Fatima's younger sister Fauzia but both did not give him a child. The son that Paulina got out of wedlock died.

The third lesson we can learn from this novel is that we can choose to make the most out of an ugly situation. Paulina took advantage of her childlessness to go to school and improve her craft. She became self-reliant when she started her own business. She also learnt some English and even became a team leader who taught other women in the village.

(Image/thebodyisnotanapology.com)

The Story of Abubakar

Once upon a time,

When being a Muslim was highly considered a crime,

There lived in a small estate in Dakar,

A young man by the name Abubakar.

He was jobless,

But he was lucky to marry a hardworking princess,

She set up a small Arabian tea restaurant,

There, Abubakar would sit the whole day chewing Khat.

He had a beautiful daughter,

Whom he named Rhoda,

He wished he could afford to take her to an academy,

But poverty seemed to be his worst enemy.

One day his step-brother came up with an idea,

That would make them Millionaire,

Their goal,

Was to get out of Senegal.

He proposed selling the old family car,

And use the money to join their Uncle in America,

Once the old jalopy was bought,

They busied themselves acquiring passport.

Abubakar was sad to leave his young family behind,

But the prospect of becoming rich in America clouded his mind,

In America, their Uncle assured them of Hundreds of Dollars,

If only they could blow themselves up in a crowded Shopping mall in Dallas.

That the money will be wired to their families back at home,

Once they have detonated the Bomb,

There was great fear in Abubakar’s eyes,

But his step-brother convinced him otherwise.

By the time the news of Dallas terrorist attack broke,

Abubakar could only hope,

That Rhoda can afford Academy fee,

And his wife has stopped selling Arabian tea.

(image/www.ourehtiopia.tumblr.com)

My Wife is a Gentleman

My wife does not help my mother in the kitchen,

He sits with my father in the guest room, drinking beer,

And when we go down to the river for a shower,

My wife does not take a bath in the women’s area,

He takes a bath together with the men,

Because he has hairy chest and something long is hanging below his abdomen.

My wife does not wear a bra,

The type of breasts he has does not need a bra,

They are the type that do not produce milk.

My wife is not allowed in the maternity ward,

Doctors say that he does not have a vagina,

That people like him do not get pregnant,

My wife therefore cannot give birth.

My wife urinates while standing,

And he does not receive his periods,

He therefore never wears sanitary pads,

My wife wears boxers.

My wife walks like a real woman,

And sometimes he paints his lips,

My wife does not have hips,

And his buttocks are flat.

My wife’s documents indicates that he is a he,

His voice is melodious and he shaves his eyebrows,

Sometimes some strands of hair sprout on his chin,

They therefore say he belongs to the men’s fellowship in the church.

(image/www.tumblr.com)

One-way Conversation

Othieno,yesternight I was drinking in ''The Corner'' bar alone,
The bar where we would meet when you could not stay at home,
You ran away from your quarrelsome and promiscuous wife,
And in that bar we had found a quiet peaceful life.

Othieno ''The Corner'' bar was lonely without you,
The other night you insisted ,very much, the bill to be on you,
So it was a departing signal,how I wish I knew!
Yesternight I was served by the tall brown girl.The one you always swore you will swallow her brown breasts,
She served me a bottle of beer,tonic water and a glass of ginger Krest,
You remember last year when she told you that your penis is bigger than a donkey's and we broke into a huge hearty laugh!
I think that night we had taken a little more than enough!
Othieno ''The Corner'' bar was lonely without you!

Othieno you should wake up and go to work,
In your company you always bring them good luck,
Those you commissioned to build your new home have finished baking clay,
Your wife talked of marrying another husband by the way!
What a sad thing to say when you are not even married yet,
That woman's heart is as cold as cement!

Othieno how fast things change! From a two way conversation in a bar to a one way conversation in a mogue,
From a dialogue to a monologue,
Othieno,wake up man! At least talk to your mistress,
She is here to see you,do not give her a lot of stress,
At least she has honoured to come see you,your wife has not stepped here in the mortuary,
And the men's committee from church has agreed to contribute some little money to put up something on the obituary!

What I am Not Saying

I am not saying I do not like you the way you are,

I am just saying if your breasts were a little bigger,

The nipples in particular,

Then I would be more eager.

I am not saying you are untidy,

I am just saying if you could clean the house more often,

Then it is highly unlikely,

The infections will toughen.

I am not saying you are a spendthrift,

I am just saying you can shop better with a written budget,

I hope you get the drift,

From my small nugget.

I am not saying you have a loud mouth,

I am just saying if you could reduce the gossip,

Then we would witness more growth,

In our relationship.

I am not saying you need to befriend Colgate,

I am just saying a little fresh breath,

Is like a magnet,

Its attraction goes a long length.

I am not saying you are plump,

I am just saying exercise is good for your body,

Unless you are dump,

Eating is not a felony.

(image/www.star2.com)

Disturbing Thoughts of a Night-shift Worker

God forbid,

That while I am working my ass off during a night-shift,

Someone grossly stupid,

Is sinking his shaft inside my wife’s mid-rift.

Harsh judgment be passed,

On him who consecrates my matrimonial bed,

Let his generation be cursed,

Long after he is dead.

(Image/www.stuartmcmillen.com)

I Shall Not Talk About Love

I shall not talk about love,

But I will say something about its consequence,

Imagine something you did not have,

Comes and all of a sudden takes over your common sense.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will say something about a broken heart,

It was once strong and hard,

But now it coils like a cornered thief facing the nozzle of a gun.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will say something about the eye that sees it,

As much as it shines bright with joy,

It is blind and cannot see deceit.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will talk about lack of it,

In its absence some go insane,

Some die and some things will never be the same.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will talk about its irony,

It is supposed to come and leave for free,

But it comes with huge bills and leaves with the fridge.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will whisper its secrets aloud,

It does not need conditions and its regrets will never bound.

I shall not talk about love,

But I will respect its strength,

Just a four lettered word,

But it is so magnificent.

Can’t talk, won’t talk about love,

But on it blames I will trade,

It is not supposed to discriminate,

But it does.

Can’t talk, won’t talk about love,

But I will try it anyway,

Because just like death,

It will catch up with you someday.

(image credits/oneandonly)

Let's eat them

We never trusted the law courts,

And so we took our machetes and slit our neighbour’s throats,

We became the judge,

And so we burnt them alive in Church,

As the yellow flame engulfed their bodies,

Their agonizing cries became, to our ears, sweet melodies,

Now their roasted flesh is dripping of fats,

Let’s wash our hands and put aside our hats,

Let’s eat them.

We forgot about what we had built together for so many seasons,

Instead, we attacked our neighbours with crude weapons,

We pulled them out of moving vehicles and divided them using tribal mark,

After be-heading them, we watched and danced as their body-less heads rolled on the hot tarmac,

We set their head-less bodies on fire,

And the mounds of their vaginas quenched our sexual desire,

Now the aroma of roasted meat has filled the air,

Let everyone pull a chair,

Let’s gather for a meal of “Nyama-choma,”

Let’s eat them.

Everyone is invited,

And the protocol should be respected,

Our political leaders should have the first taste,

And not a single limb should go to waste,

The hairs can make a good flying whisk for our elders,

The teeth can make necklaces and bangles to support our thriving fashion industry,

We can use the intestines to make Mutura while the bowel content can be mixed with urine to make Ojuri,

As for the roasted stake,

We can make do with a smoking hot white Ugali,

And an accompaniment of enough Kachumbari,

Instead of a prayer, we can sing the national anthem,

Before we eat them.

(photo/www.ngv.vic.gov.au)

A shallow comparison between Kenya’s Benga maestro Okatch Biggy and America’s rap legend Biggie Smalls.

Big-bodied

One striking similarity between Kenya’s controversial Benga maestro Okatch Biggy and America’s rap legend Notorious BIG is their big sizes. This earned them the nickname “Biggy” or “Biggie” which they adopted as their stage names. Okatch Biggy’s real name was Elekia Mathayo Okach while Biggie Smalls real name was Christopher George Latore Wallace.

Lewd lyrics

Whoever has listened to Notorious BIG a.k.a Biggie Smalls’s songs will agree with me that most of them contain lewd lyrics. The same can be said of Okatch Biggy’s songs. Both glorified big buttocks as is evidenced in their hit singles,” Can I get Witcha” by Biggie Smalls and “Helena Wang’e Dongo” by Okatch Biggy. In “Can I get witcha,” Biggie Smalls says,”…Why you wana get with me? Coz you got a big B.U.T.T…” while in “Helena Wang’e Dongo,” Okatch says “…Sianda madongo tinde aweyo…”

Both died in 1997

As fate would have it, both artists died in the same year; Biggie Smalls in March 1997 while Okatch Biggy in December 1997.

4 studio albums

Another similarity between Kenya’s benga maestro Okatch Biggy and America’s rap legend Biggie Smalls is that both produced four studio albums. Biggie Smalls’s “Ready to die” album was produced in 1994, “Life after death” in 1997 while “Born Again” and “Duets: the final chapter” were produced posthumously in 1999 and 2005 respectively. Okatch Biggy released four albums; Helena Wang’e Dongo (1992), Dorina (1992),  Nyathi Nyakach (1996) and Okelo Jabondo (1996).

Posthumous releases

Biggie Smalls had a number of his tracks released after he had died. “Hypnotize,” “More money more problems” and “ Sky is the limit” are just but a few examples. Okatch Biggy’s “Adhiambo Nyakobura” was released in 1998, a year later after his death.

(Image/www.nation.co.ke)

Waiting in purgatory

I am on my way to heaven or hell,

I would like to go to heaven though,

But right now it is not for me to decide,

I had all the time on earth to make a choice but I died before I could do that,

Now I am held up in purgatory, waiting for my fate,

Waiting for the final judgment,

Whether I will proceed to heaven, hell or back on earth.

I am waiting for God to have mercy on me, a sinner,

I am waiting for the devil to claim me as his rightful possession,

I am waiting for those who knew me on earth to pray for me,

So that I can escape the wrath of hell and instead proceed to heaven.

As I wait, with several others,

We see uncountable souls gliding past,

Some headed to hell while others headed to heaven,

We wish to be on the move but we can’t,

Our destinations have not been clearly spelt-out,

We are still in a limbo. Waiting.

Purgatory attendant tells us that God is still looking into our cases,

Together with the devil, they are reviewing our cases,

The final verdict may take a minute, a day, a thousand or even a million years,

We should therefore have a lot of patience.

The attendant tells us that we are in purgatory because we lived a fifty-fifty life,

While on earth, we were neither believers nor non-believers,

We did good and evil in equal measure,

We approached everything half-heartedly,

Not wholly submitting to God,

Not wholly submitting to the Devil,

Denying God and denying the devil,

Our case is a complex one,

It will take time.

(image/www.zookyworld.wordpress.com)

A dodgy-style kind of life

I cannot go down stairs,

Because I still have not paid for the pears,

That I took from the grocery shop,

So I will just chill indoors and watch movies non-stop.

I cannot call nor text John,

Because I still have not paid my Okoa loan,

Now he thinks I am ignoring him,

Because of the two thousand shillings that I owe him.

I cannot pass by Mama Akinyi’s Cereals store,

Because I still have not paid her what I owe,

She has been sending me bills,

After I took from her some green grams and beans.

I cannot have a peaceful sleep,

Knowing I have not given the landlord a bank-in slip,

How can I possibly have peace,

While everyday he threatens me with eviction notice?

Micro-finance institutions turn down my loan application form,

Because my name being listed on CRB has become the norm,

I even fear going near the altar,

Because I am a serial tithe defaulter.

I cannot borrow money from friends and family,

Because I have not paid the previous ones they lent me,

“WE OFFER LOAN ON ELECTRONIC ITEM,”

Oh how I wish I hadn’t sold my home-theatre system.

(image/Daniel Many)

Bush Sex

Sex is sweet on a soft mattress in a bed-sitter,

Where you vibrate slowly with a rhythmic push,

But sex is ten times sweeter,

When done deep inside the bush!

Bush sex is sweeter because the air is cold and fresh,

Making you to go for long without a break,

The cold breeze pushes you deeper into her warm flesh,

And it gets sweeter especially when you are not interrupted by a venomous snake!

Not only is the green grass soft,

But it also tickles,

And as the climax transports you aloft,

Your release becomes epic as the girl giggles!

Or you can place her on a soft mound of sand,

Her vagina raised and her back placed on a log,

And as your penis swell and expand,

You release on her rapidly before you are chased by a warthog!

(image/www.redbookmag.com)

Noches Solitarias

When you get married to a soldier,

Then terms like guns, grenades and magazines,

Should not be a bother,

You get used to heavy boots and bloody scenes,

Lonely and cold nights become familiar,

When he is on a peace-keeping mission in say, Somalia.

When you get married to a doctor,

Then terms like gloves, syringes and Schizophrenia,

Should not be a bother,

You get used to white lab coats and stethoscope plugged in the ear,

Lonely and cold nights become your companion,

When he is cutting and opening pregnant abdomens during late night emergency operation.

When you get married to a teacher,

Then terms like lesson plan, low pay, exam papers and C.A.T.S,

Will not fail to feature,

In your daily conversations,

You get used to pressed shirts, red pens and chalky fingers,

Lonely and cold nights become your friend,

When he is busy marking a pile of papers till late in the night.

Why then do you complain?

When you get married to a writer,

And terms like fiction, essay, poetry, and book clubs,

Become part and parcel of your vocabulary,

Why do you refuse?

To get used to abrupt travels, Microsoft word and unfinished manuscripts,

Why don’t you understand?

That lonely and cold nights will become your comforter,

Those nights he stays up late to polish up the final draft?

(image/www.fineartamerica.com)

Conjugated Words

Pray do tell,

Will a doctor not bisect your body, right in the middle?

Will he not do a surgical operation on your body,

As if it is donated for medical research,

Using his sharp syringe, will he not inject you,

Will he not cut you open and pierce you?

Will he not treat you as a patient in need of treatment?

Pray do tell,

Will a soldier not hurl bullets into your belly?

Will he not put his gun into proper use?

Will he not cock you?

Will he not pull the trigger and shoot?

Will he not radar-trace you and finish you?

Will he not behave as if he is in the battle field?

Pray do tell,

Will a teacher not bend you and ,using his stick, cane your buttocks?

When you talk in tongues,

Will he not teach you how to talk proper grammar?

Will he not open your answer sheet and mark you?

Giving you a cross here and a tick there?

Will he not treat you as a student in need of education?

Pray do tell,

Will a farmer not clear your bushes?

Will he not dig you?

Will he not plant his seeds inside you?

Weed you and prune you?

Will he not water you when you are dry?

Will he not spray you when you get infected with pests and diseases?

When you are ripe, will he not harvest you and eat you?

Will he not treat you as a farm?

Then why do you get surprised when a writer treats you as a writing pad,

Why do you bulge your eyes and open your mouth in awe,

When he let his pen bleeds on you,

The ink dripping and soaking your tissues?

Why do you act surprised?

When his ink conjugates coherent words on your belly,

Words that can develop limbs and a heart,

Words that come alive?

(image/www.forum.lowyat.net)

Never Say Just

“I love you just the way you are.”

No, you do not,

If you really love me then say you love me the way I am,

Do not say you love me just the way I am,

Do not say just,

It makes me feel you are sympathizing with me,

Sympathizing with my flaws,

Do not sympathize with my flaws,

Embrace my flaws.

Say you love me the way I am,

Do not say you love me just the way I am,

It makes me feel as if you are doing me a favour,

Rescuing me from shame,

Makes me feel as if you have better options,

Make me your better option,

Not just a thing,

A second fiddle,

Never say Just.

Love me the way I am,

Do not love me just the way I am,

Never say just,

As if you mean just a love,

Just a joke,

Just an affair,

Just a woman.

“We are just having sex,”

“We are just friends”

How does that sound?

Just is not the real thing,

Like, just an example,

Am I an example of a lover?

Never say just,

Because I am not just a person in your life,

I am more than just,

I am real.

(image/www.pinterest.com)

Do Not Burn Me at a Loss

If it makes sense,

To purchase a litre of petrol at one hundred and eighty shillings,

Or a litre of Kerosene at one hundred and sixty shillings,

Or a worn out car tyre worth two hundred shillings at a throw away second hand price,

And burn me for stealing five hundred shillings,

Then go ahead and burn me,

Throw the tyre around my neck and light the matchstick,

Watch me burn to ashes,

I deserve it.

Burn me at a profit,

Spend little to burn me for stealing more,

Do not spend more to burn me for stealing little,

Do not burn me at a loss,

Do not spend three hundred shillings on petrol,

Or two hundred and fifty shillings on Kerosene,

Or eight hundred shillings worth of car tyre,

To burn me for stealing two hundred shillings.

Before you burn me,

Do your mathematics,

If you have one thousand shillings to spend on burning a thief,

Then spend it on a thief who stole more than one thousand shillings,

Do not spend it on a thief who stole less than one thousand shillings,

And if worst comes to worst,

Break even,

Spend the same amount I stole,

So that we can all say,

We cancelled each other,

An eye for an eye.

(image/www.flickr.com)

FOCUS ON A WRITER: A Quick one with Afro-fusion singer Austine Ossou

Ossou is an Afro-fusion singer who grew up eating native mangoes in Ahero. We went to school together and one thing I remember about him were his shoes. They were too big and heavy for his thin legs. The soles were re-enforced with a metal sheet which made sure they never wore out. They lasted for more than eight years because by the time we sat for our K.C.P.E exams, they were still as good as new. But “bindu buchenjanga” (things change) and Ossou’s thin legs are now the size of a Baobab tree, a product of constant visit to the Gym. His broad chest can comfortably hug three pairs of Nicki Minaj’s boobs. The voice that bellows from deep within his chest has tortured the hearts of many ladies, who have gone ahead to fight over him. This interview happened a few months ago inside his two bedroom apartment in Kayole. He had just finished frying 22 eggs and now we were settling down to have some breakfast.

1. Your real name?

Austine Onyango Sungu

2. Any stage name?

Austine Ossou

3. What are some of the titles of the songs you have done?

Aduogo dala (I am coming back home)

Akinyi

Jaherana (My Lover)

Mr. President

Aleki (I dream about you)

And many more.

4. Which one is so memorable?

Aduogo Dala.

5. Why?

It talks about my real life. My family. It also reminds me to take up my responsibilities as a son, a brother, a husband etc.

6. Where have you performed?

So many places. Will I really remember all of them?

7. The places you can remember?

I have performed at State House.

8. Are you kidding now?

I am not kidding. Do not undermine me bwana. I have performed at presidential functions at State House during the Mwai Kibaki era. I have also performed at corporate events organized by UNICEF, World Health Organization (W.H.O) etc. As a member of the Boma Tunes Band, I have performed during the various peace campaigns in 2012 targeting post-election violence hotspots spearheaded by NYTA (National Youth Talent Academy) and UNICEF. I have performed on the morning television show SUNRISE LIVE on KTN.

9. Which is your most memorable performance?

During the peace campaign in Eldoret town.

10. Any challenges you have faced as a singer/ song writer?

Con organizers and unreliable event promoters.

11. Heard you were arrested in Eldoret for not paying Hotel bills, true?

Hahaha. I remember that. We did an event but few people turned up. We could not afford to settle all the bills and we got into a small scuffle with the hotel management and some artists. They called the police but we were able to settle the case. How can I forget that?

Another challenge is transport and logistical challenges that come with doing charity events.

12. Why Luo?

Let me just say I want to appreciate my native language. I prefer to use it. Not that I cannot sing in Kiswahili or English. You should all listen to my song “Mr. President.” I did it in English and it is doing well. Singing in Luo gives me a feeling I cannot explain. You know that feeling you get when she looks at you straight in the eye and say,” I love you.”

13. What can you say about the state of Afro-fusion in Kenya?

Contrary to popular opinion, Afro-fusion has audience. It is unique. It is not about copying other people’s culture like we see in Pop and rap music. It is growing.

14. who’s your favourite Luo Afro-fusion artist?

Winyo. His sound and composition is heavenly, to say the least.

15. Any advice to up-coming artists?

Stick to who you are. Do not copy someone else.

Do what you love and it will eventually pay off.

16. Current project?

I am working on releasing my first Album. The audio part is done and I now want to work on the videos. I need actors to work with. Hopefully by the end of this year, once I come back from South Sudan, I should be talking about Album release dates.

17. Thanks man. Wish you well in your future plans.

Thank you and you are welcome, again.

18. Sure thing. We must do this again. And add me more eggs. Don’t you want me to grow some muscles too?

Yaye Omera. Terri mos.(You guy, talk it easy.)

(Are you a creative writer? Then hit me up we do this over a cup of coffee.

Email: manydaniels09@yahoo.com

or call,SMS 0727559 666.

To Drive or Not To Drive

I have a driving license. It was my aunt who took me to a driving school. Budget driving school in Eldoret town. The reason why she took me to a driving school is because “she wanted me to drive her to work and not her driving me to work.”  Yes, those were the exact words. You see, I was living with her and working for her in her Women’s health products shop. Every morning, we would leave the house together and because I did not know how to drive, she would take the driver’s seat and I would take the front left seat, a seat meant for big people. Bosses. In the evening after closing the shop, she would drive me back to the house. It was as if I was the one who employed her and not the other way round. It was weird. Even me I felt it.

It took me only two months and I was ready to take the final driving test. I still had one more month of practical lessons but I felt I had had enough. The group of trainees who joined earlier than me were having the final test. I requested my instructor to allow me take the test with them and he agreed. This was against the school’s rules but my instructor also thought that I was ready. I took the test and passed. That was in April, 2012.

My driving license was ready after three months but I collected it in December, the same year. With it, I was ready to hit the highway. The only problem was that I did not have a car. My aunt thought I was rushed through the driving lessons and so she never trusted me to drive her. She did not want to gamble her life with a half-baked driver. I was eager to drive. I think it happens to everyone who learns a new thing. You just feel like doing it again and again and again. You cannot get enough of it. Just like learning how to ride a bicycle.

I remember how, after learning how to ride a bicycle, my brother and I would not let our father’s bicycle rest. We would take it as soon as he packs it in front of the house. We would disappear with it and only return after one or both of us suffered a severe injury. But even that would not deter us from taking it again tomorrow. We could not get enough of it. To us, every resting bicycle was a chance to further our expertise. One day we took a visitor’s bicycle and disappeared with it. The visitor had to wait for close to four hours. Our father was furious. When we returned, we received a beating of our lives. From there onwards, we started pleading with our father to buy us our own bicycles. He ignored us.

But my aunt did not entirely ignore my pleas to let me drive. One evening, on our way back to the house from town, she stopped the car and told me to take the driver’s seat. I was reluctant. She handed over the keys to me and told me to drive all the way home. I started sweating. Not because I did not believe in myself but because there were so many people in the car. We had just picked up her three daughters who had come to visit from Nairobi. One had travelled all the way from United Kingdom. I did not want to embarrass myself in front of them, especially in front of the one from U.K. Something told me to refuse but then again, this was my first chance to prove to my aunt that I can actually drive.

I took the keys, jumped into the driver’s seat, said a short prayer and then inserted the key inside the ignition hole.Oops, the idea of inserting something inside a hole sounds a bit too much but that was it. I twitched the key, just like I was taught in the driving school but nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing. I was now sweating all over. The sweat made my palms to become slippery. I could not even grip the steering wheel properly. I tried the ignition again but nothing. I looked at my aunt. She gave me the “I told you you can’t drive” look. My heart sank. My forth attempt worked. The car was roaring, ready to go. Now it was up to me to engage the right gears and then step on the accelerator with my hands on the steering wheel and my eyes on the road. The image of my instructor yelling in my ears,” Keep your eyes on the road while engaging the gears” flashed across my eyes and I adjusted my sitting position to an upright posture. After engaging the gears, I slowly released the clutch while simultaneously stepping on the accelerator. The car moved a few meters and then stopped, FOR LIFE.

*

The mechanic who was phoned was the one who cleared my name. After a thorough inspection, he confirmed what I thought might have been the problem. He said the car developed a mechanical problem and that I had nothing to do with it. My being on the driver’s seat was pure bad luck. Not at all related or connected to my training as a driver. I heaved a sigh of relief but a small lump still lingered in my heart. My only chance to convince my aunt that I could drive was squashed. Forever, perhaps.

One month. Two month. Three, Four. Five months passed before I could get a chance to put my driving skills into practice. I was on the verge of rusting. I even started fearing cars.  I started doubting my ability to drive. So many “what ifs” questions ran through my mind. And then my aunt bought a new car. An automatic car. She sold the old one. My worries doubled. I had never driven an automatic car. In the school, we were only taught how to drive a manual car. Another thing, will she allow me to drive this new one? She did not.

One Saturday, she left for the countryside using a public means of transport. She left the car neatly parked in front of the house. It was a normal day for me. I woke up and after a quick shower, I went to the kitchen to serve myself tea. I took the tea in the sitting room while leafing through the Saturday Newspaper. When I was done, I went to my room to pick my bag. Then went back to the sitting room to pick the office keys. That is when I saw them. The car keys. They were placed just next to the Television. I could have ignored them but they seemed to be talking to me. Telling me to be a man. Inviting me to pick them up and go for a drive. A cruise along the main highway. Or a road test. Just a short ride to the gate if I am afraid of being caught. I hesitated but the keys kept talking to me. Pleading with me not to waste this golden opportunity to prove that I can still drive. Telling me not to be afraid. That my aunt has gone to Siaya and she will not be back until tomorrow. That I can even go to town with the car, park it in front of the shop and then drive it back to the estate in the evening. What is the big deal?

I did not answer the car keys. I just grabbed them and, once seated on the driver’s seat, inserted the long one inside the ignition hole. Yeah, I know. Another hole and another inserting but what was I supposed to do? The car came to life. I had watched my aunt drive this automatic car for long and so getting my way around it was super easy for me. And just like that, I reversed and off I vroomed. Past the gate, down the estate road. Eased the car slowly passed the Sosiani River Bridge and then climbed up. Past Moi Teaching and referral Hospital and after negotiating a few corners, I found myself on the main Uganda-Nairobi highway. I sped off towards Moi University, school of law (Annex campus). My plan was to branch off in the next road leading back to Elgon View estate but when I approached one just past Annex, something told me to proceed a little further.  I obeyed and sped off towards Nairobi. Should I go up to Cheptiret? Or even up to Main campus? Yes, I think I should.

(image/www.junkmail.co.za)

A letter From The Fetus

My father to be,

If my mother to be wakes you up in the middle of the night,

Saying that she wants oily chips,

That it is not her, but me who wants it,

It is a lie,

I do not even know how chips looks like,

I am just a fetus.

My father to be,

If my mother to be calls you at 10 am in the morning,

Saying that she craves fried fish,

And that you have to rush back home with it A.S.A.P,

That it is not her, but me who craves for it,

It is a lie,

I have never seen fish,

I am just a fetus.

My father to be,

If my mother to be rejects vegetable soup,

And instead asks for goat soup,

Saying that it is me who has rejected it,

It is a lie,

How can I reject it and I am locked up inside her womb,

I am not given freedom to push things away,

Let her not use me as a scape-goat,

If she wants goat soup, let her just tell you that she wants goat soup.

My father to be,

If my mother to be refuses to give you sex,

Or says that she does not love you anymore,

That it is not her, but me who does not like you,

It is a big lie,

I have nothing to do with your sex life,

If she does not want to sleep with you, the decision is hers, not mine,

As far as I am concerned,

I just can’t wait to see you,

If she does not want you anymore, let her just say it,

She should not use me,

I am just a fetus,

I do not know the difference between love and hate,

Right and wrong,

Fish and snake.

(image/www.freerangestock.com)

Six and a half lessons

About a natural law,

That when you have a debt you become a slave,

You run away from the people you owe,

You have no jurisdiction to be brave.

About being broke,

You become vulnerable when you borrow,

You can’t afford to laugh at a joke,

When your stomach is hollow.

On being the head of the family,

Your wife may buy food when you don’t have a job,

But deep inside you know it is your responsibility,

And the night you sleep hungry the guilt will make you sob.

Like bad times, good times too do not last,

You might feel comfortable and think you have made it,

But money evaporates fast,

And before you know it you are asking for credit.

There is hope for every bad situation,

Amongst a thousand friends,

One will always give you that attention,

And come to your aid when you reach those uncertain bends.

Never burn the bridge after crossing the river,

The greener grass on the other side may slack,

And when they wither,

You might want to cross back.

You might be like-able,
But no one gives a shit about your event.

(image/thecitizenng.com)