Waithera,My First Love
Sometimes I feel I know nothing about life
But I do know something about Kenya
I come from the gustily, hilly terrains of rural Ingavira
Where huts form bungalow sorts of flawless beauty
An ambiance of warm soothing atmosphere
And all my life
My home has been here, yes here. Kenya.
I’ve gone to school with Patels and Mohammeds
Stole pencils that belonged to Cheptoo and Mutisya
Their rubbers had no name tags either
It was outright
We were brothers and sisters of a beautiful nation
Through those dusty years
Growing up playing kalongolongowith my peers
I loved being dad
And mum was mostly always a Taita nyako a.k.a Wakesho
Her tiny waist entangled with a yellow leso
Laced with a Swahili proverb that read
‘Mtaka cha mvunguni, sharti ainame‘
She served us uji
In Cocacola bottle tops
And we drunk it like our fathers would
Sipping every imaginary drop into our heads
Packed mud in sachets of goodie-goodie
And the wooden block that was the TV
Screened our richness in its silence
I do remember brikicho
How I used to follow Mwende everywhere she used to hide
We always got found together, tipo!
Whenever mama cooked chapati
I always had to steal a piece
And run out to share it with Mumbi
Achieng got jealous most of the time
But I loved her still
They had to take turns
Over who would play ‘mother’
No one knew
One day they would make beautiful wives
Wafula was my best friend in primary school
He always passed me the ball whenever it got onto his foot
It was enchanting
And Kipchirchir made sure I didn’t score
Taught us that life is a battle
And we would laugh about it on our way home
Joking to each other
You could never feel alone
Waithera…
She wrote me my first love letter
I was a shy lot
Growing up from the ghetto
Coming to terms with the realities of life
That adolescence is real
My little omera begun to bubble up
She faced me with such gusto
And in my innocence
Got into my skin to hide
I love it when we sit together
To talk about our country’s tricky politics
And our funny love lives
Laughing at ourselves in full candour
Life makes more sense this way
Than beefing hatred into our hearts
Over five people who don’t care about us!
I love it when I cry on your shoulders
Unashamedly
Seeking for solace
In my drunk sorrows
Because you are my Kenya
And I’ll need you more tomorrow
Please,
Do not judge me because of where I’m from
I love you for who you are
My tribe should not be my scar…
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