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)

She did not like the earth

Whenever I think of my daughter,

I ask myself why and what,

Why she decided to end the race as soon as it started,

What made her to give up the fight.

Was it the feel of black nipple that filled her toothless mouth,

That made her to lose interest in what life had to offer?

Was it the plain taste of milk that she did not like?

But is it not a well-known fact that all babies like breast-milk?

Was it the face of her father that she did not like?

A face which did not know which expression to express,

After a long night devoid of sleep,

A face that looked similar to hers,

Did my daughter despise the face of her father?

Was it the hospital ceiling that had patches of brown stains,

And the smell of H.I.V/AIDS,

That ebbed all her energy away,

And left her limbs withered?

Maybe my daughter did not like the earth,

She could not stand what awaited her,

The pain, the heartbreaks, the diseases, the war, the hunger, the disappointments,

The moment her head popped up from my dark womb,

She knew the earth was not the place she wanted to be,

She knew there and then that it was better not to be born,

Now what  am I going to do with all these milk in my breast?

(image/www.thebodyisnotapology.com)

It was all vigour and vibrancy at the Mavoko Talent auditions.

Sometimes you can attend an event with little expectations only for the performers to prove you dead wrong. That is exactly what happened to me on Saturday 30th June. I was invited to attend what was described to me lightly as a dancing competition but which later turned out to be an all-round talent auditions.

Just the way all good things start, the event started with a lot of confusion. It was scheduled to be held at the Madaraka social hall but the venue was changed to Mavoko Secondary School at the very last minute. What did the organizers expect when they chose Madaraka Social hall as their venue anyway? The hall is not yet ready for crying out loud. The construction has since halted and it is high time the County Government of Machakos looked into it for the sake of the youths.

This last minute change delayed the program. After waiting for like two hours, the event finally kicked off a few minutes past 1pm by some display of fine arts. Art exhibition was followed by singing and then rapping. To say that Mavoko Constituency is devoid of talents is a gross understatement. Various artists who graced the stage to face the four-bench panel of judges gave nothing short of powerful performances, cathartic even.

After Esther, a young girl, gave a wonderful rendition of Singer Amani’s song,” I am missing my baby,” the stage was officially opened for dancers and it was all vigour and vibrancy. Every dance group left the crowd in awe and I am sure the judges are having a hellish time choosing which dance group to select and which ones to drop. Christ Seed dancers, Unique dancers, Edu dancer and Supreme Legacy represented Athi River ward.

Other categories included rapping, spoken word, modelling, art and gravity, photography, acting and comedy.

Similar auditions will be held in the other three remaining wards making up the Mavoko Constituency. These include Mlolongo/Syokimau ward, Kinanie ward and Muthwani ward. Those artists selected from these auditions will participate in the Mavoko Talent Festival scheduled for August.

“Little things make a big difference. I always use this saying to advice upcoming artists not to overlook the small things. Every big artist started small. These auditions may appear insignificant but in the long run, they will open doors to young and talented artists from Mavoko to grace the big stages,” Said Wycliffe Oduor, one of the judges.

(judge Wycliff Oduor and Lilian Lucas/ image courtesy of Nicholus Mutinda)

Oduor is also the Chairman of Youths in Mololongo/ Syokimau ward. Other judges included Lilian Lucas, “Professor” from Athi River Ward and “ Masco” from Mlolongo.

“Upcoming artists should not put money first. Instead they should focus on perfecting their talents and then money will chase them. The problem we have with some artists from Athi River is that they glorify money at the expense of quality. We want to change this,” equipped Nickolus Mutinda, famously known as “Zumbu.” He is one of the organizers and a member of Project Management Committee (PMC) of Mavoko Constituency development fund.

(Nicholus Mutinda aka Zumbu during the event. He was one of the organizers.)

Through the tears

I know I started reasoning with my manhood instead of my brain,

When I let all that I had built for years go down the drain,

Dear 'mpango wa kando',before a word you say,

Know that the same sun that melts wax also hardens clay!

I just met you the other day,

But we have done more than I did in many years,

With my wife who is now drenched in tears!

I must admit in your charm I overdosed,

But I never kept my two eyes completely closed!

I could see how our affair took a great toll om my wife!

Whenever we met in expensive hotels,
Through the shiny forks and glass plates,

I could see my wife feeding the children and covering my meal,

I could see her coming out of the shower and putting on her night dress,

I could see her checking the clock and getting worried,her heart racing fast,

I could see drops of tears dripping from the corners of her eyes and soaking the pillow that she held tightly on,

When the clock ticked past midnight!

Whenever we went for picnics and kissed by the waterfall,

Through the reflection of the crystal clear  waters,

I could see her picking the children from school,

I could see her making tea and poring mine in the thermos flask,

I could see her trying to reach me over the phone,

I could see tears swelling in her eyes when she watched the tea getting cold inside the flask!

Dear 'mpango wa kando',

Whenever we were together,

I never kept my eyes completely closed,

Whenever we spent the night at your place,

Through your face that shone bright after a night of steamy sex,

I could see her applying for a loan to pay our house rent,

I could see her getting our children new pair of shoes,

I could see her passing by the supermarket to get my favourite body spray,

I could see her placing the cologne beside the bed,hoping I come home soon,

I could see her hugging my picture!

Dear 'mpango wa kando'.I can't continue to see you anymore,

I'm going back to my wife,

Prevention is better than cure,

I'm going back to she whose love is pure,

She who has stood by me through thick and thin,

Righteousness and sin,

She who is taking care of my kids,

You are just but a passing wind,

Which brings with it heavy clouds that never bring rain!

Through the tears in my wife's eyes,

I could see the love inside her heart!

(image/www.pinterest.com)

How to wait for bad news

You can decide to stay calm,

Nod your head and place your clasped palms between your thighs,

You can decide to breathe hard,

But the lump inside your heart will not just melt away.

You can feel like vomiting,

A neuseatic feeling running up and down the highway of your throat,

You can feel like dying,

The belly of the earth to crack and swallow you,

But the lump inside your heart will not just melt away.

You can decide to run away,

To stop waiting and pretend you have given up,

You can decide to wear a plastic smile,

And even afford a dry laugh,

But the lump inside your heart will not just melt away.

You can try thinking of other things,

Send your mind on a faraway land,

But the thoughts of the news will come rushing back,

And the lamp inside your heart will grow colder.

When the bearer of the news will appear,

The lamp inside your heart will do a hundred-meter race,

Your eyes will try to look up, down, East, West and finally nowhere at all,

Only your ears will pick the first sentence:

It is over between us,

Sorry, you have failed the interview,

And the winner is…. (Insert another contestant’s name),

We lost him,

You are fired,

The test showed two red lines,

Failed, please try again,

98% …download failed,

You have insufficient funds to complete this transaction,

Request declined.

(image/www.vitals.lifehacker.com)