Don’t you know I like things sweet?
Sewage water and pickled feet
Noses that run like Kenyan jocks
And year old milk that’s kept in socks
Don’t you know I like things wild?
Little old ladies with crocodiles
Butterflies and taser guns
Grizzly bears that have the runs
Copyright © misty hunter | Year Posted 2009
British wanted profit
British wanted new land
Land rich in resources
Land of ivory and coffee
Coffee British could sell
Coffee Kenyans could not
Could not retrieve freedom
Could not reason with British
British took over land
British farmed fertile soil
Soil was Kenyan birthright
Soil of Kenyan ancestors
Ancestors buried here
Ancestors grieved for living
Living like refugees
Living in fear of England
England built railway
England bolstered power
Power taken by British
Power denied to Kenyans
Kenyans were angry
Angry since dishonored
Angry since stripped of rights
Rights taken from Kenyans
Rights only for British
British happy in new land
British prosperous future
Future lost Kenyans
Future lost hope
Hope came from bravery
Hope came from Dedan
Dedan well respected
Dedan joined Mau Mau
Mau Mau took oath
Mau Mau freedom fighters
Fighters for rights
Fighters for justice
Justice took much time
Justice took much blood
Blood shed for Dedan
Blood shed for hero
Hero was hung
Hero yet lives
Lives in the minds
Lives in the hearts
Hearts beat forever
Hearts beat freedom
Copyright © Dineen Williams Gault | Year Posted 2016
From my lowly bachelor’s house
Proudly christened ‘Embassy Fair’
I woke up to the chirping of birds
On the trees above and across the vale
And the riverine bushes in-between
I woke up to the crowing of cocks
And the mooing of cows
I woke up to the leaping of calves
And the bleating of anxious goats;
To the braying of the donkey
The barking of my brother’s dog
And to the mumbling of the sheep.
There was no time to brood
Or think negative thoughts
Or linger on yesterday’s deeds.
I opened up all my senses
And voluptuously drank of the new day.
As my feet stroked the dew
On my way to the reserve fields
My eyes fathomed Mt. Ithangune
The eastern fortress of Mt. Kenya
Itself a mere one thousand feet higher.
Then we were mountain warriors
And our locale elevated us accordingly
Leaving no room for flippancy
Even when it was flipping cold.
Times were when our men grazed there
On the slopes of Kirima kia Ng’ombe
Times were when Omo elders made rain there
Little did we know then (as now?)
That the God of Rain had slumbered
And demanded pure white fattened rams
Delivered by pure white-haired men
Whose penance upon the mountain
Would atone the sins of the Meru clans
And make our mountain God weep
And let his tears soften our rich soils
To ward off barrenness once more
And banish famine from our midst;
And as our fast-flowing rivers swelled
So, too, our cattle and our granaries.
For although our God lived at the apex
Yet he allowed us to get this close
And so to commune with him
Without touching his garment
Craftily spread over the three peaks.
Krapf and Rebmann never knew this
They were mere trekkers, mere explorers
Of a continent pregnant with mystery
That their kinsmen sought to make a home,
A distant home away from home.
One time I HEARD THEM TEACH THAT Krapf
Was the first man to see Mt Kenya
To which I responded, ‘Really? Aren’t you kidding?’
So what kind of men were the mountain warriors-
Blind men? The Meru, the Kikuyu, the Embu,
The Wakamba, the Masai, the Samburu, the Borana-
Were they all blind men then? Stone blind-
All those Africans that had known it before Krapf?
Desecration followed desecration
As alien men sought to climb Mt Kenya
And alien men sought to expropriate
Not just a field but all our land.
From a handful of missionaries and clerks
To shiploads of coolies and soldiers
To throngs of settlers and administrators
To segregation, imposition and subjugation
Till the people- wary, weary and desperate
Rose from the caves, valleys and forests
From every blessed nook and cranny
Chanting MAU, MAU, MAU, MAU
(Mwingereza Aende Ulaya
Mwafrica Apate Uhuru-
White Man Return to Europe
African man Attain Independence!)
Though a youngster and much afraid
I sang that, too, in my youthful heart
Forbidden, I still sang it, in my heart
For I had seen the sword on my mum’s throat
As they sought to extract a confession
I had seen the village burn down
And I had seen the limp body of a fighter
Paraded through the village paths
But that was over half a century ago
And although I had seen the aftermath
Of Kaya Bombo and Kaya Tiwi in Kwale
On my way here (but thought it a dream)
And the agony of the 1998 Al Qaeda attacks
I had not seen much else; nor will I ever see
The likes of Eldoret, Nakuru, or Naivasha
After the 2007 election- I ardently pray not
For this is not the white man in Africa
That we are up against, surely not here
Not this long after regaining our independence
No! Not here in my beloved, bounteous Kenya.
It is commercial and political greed
A vicious, ugly cross-breed beast perhaps
That is all there is, that is all there can be
And these we must banish from our hearts
For who can bear to see Kenyan blood
Flowing down River Tana or Athi or Nzoia
Or swelling the banks of Lake Victoria, Nakuru or Turkana?
Who can plead such a case before God
And come away with his soul intact?
Have the Kenyan people not chosen
Through a brand new constitution
Their route to freedom, justice and progress?
Have they not decreed their own destiny?
Let me hear it from you and you and you
Whose hand or sword or bullet or arrow
Was stained by the blood of woman, man or child
Let me hear it from you who schemed or aided
And you who lent your tongue or thought
Or simply sought refuge in silence and waited
For something, anything to happen to ‘them.’
Let me hear you say, ‘Enough, enough!
Purge our consciences O Mighty One!’
Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2013
For those avid crossword groupies of which I are one,
I'm offering free of charge vital data to add to your fun.
So you're stuck on 15-down for the name of a barren of mules!
Groups of creatures you can now name if you use this set of rules!
A group of apes is a shrewdness and a gang of asses is a pace.
Tigers are a streak and you'd better streak should they give chase!
Can you believe that skittish plovers are called a congregation?
(I wonder, perhaps Baptist, Lutheran, Catholic or other denomination?)
You might see a cackle of hyenas or a tower of giraffes at zoos,
Or if on a Kenyan safari a bloat of hippos or a fleet herd of gnus.
The name for a prickle of porcupines is an appropriate moniker for sure!
A sleek bunch of ferrets is called a business, and, why, I'm unsure.
Pesky squirrels are called a scurry and a warren is for rabbits.
(There are many warrens of rabbits due to their promiscuous habits!)
Badgers are grouped as a cete and leopards are known as a leap;
Moles are known as a labor and a herd or drove identifies sheep.
Parliaments of owls meet in trees and eagles in convocations.
Jellyfish waft about in smacks and peacocks strut in ostentations!
Screeching cormorants are a gulp which sounds mighty weird.
Steer clear of a crash of rhinos since they are to be feared!
Charming finches are called a charm and larks an exaltation,
Turkeys a rafter, frogs an army and starlings a murmuration.
Locusts are known as a plague and cockroaches an intrusion.
An unkindness of ravens and their raucous caws just causes confusion!
Groups of humans are known as Republicans, Democrats or Nazarenes,
Jerks and morons but this barely includes all human species by any means!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014
Africa Kills Her Sun in Ken Saro-Wiwa short story
So far the greatest short story i've ever read
Where the blackest pen lives
With the blackest ink with the darkest hue
Yet the blackest truth out there even to this day
Of the oppression, dictatorship, killings, fear, corruption and discrimination
A call for freedom
Africa still living in the shadows of colonialism
But Africa took an initiative, a positive compass
Mary Muthoni Nyanjiru, an unsung hero
Shot dead during the colonial era for her fight against colonialism
Wangari Maathai, the first African woman to win the Nobel peace prize
She planted one tree at a time, a voice for the environment, a fighter for women rights
Charity Kaluki Ngilu has played many roles in politics
One of the first kenyan female presidential candidates
I still remember the 1997 elections
Pamela Jelimo and Catherine Ndereba
Through their marathons, they have paved many seas
I remember those cross country days back in primary school, it was tough
I applaud you girls
Grace Ogot, East African best known woman author
The mother of Kenyan literature
Her words had power, and her actions showed it
Captain Irene Koki Mutungi, the first African female dreamliner captain
Flying higher and higher, more girls dreaming higher and higher
Kakenya Ntaiya, among the top 10 CNN heroes of 2013
I've listened to your Ted Talk of "a girl who demanded education"
About how at the age 12 you made a deal with your dad to undergo female circumcision if he would let you go to highschool
And that happened, you even went to college
And then came back and founded a school for young girls
Lupita Nyong'o, it was hard to watch "12 Years a Slave"
Because truth brings out a lot of anger, but at the same time it has to be told
The first Kenyan actress to win an Academy Award.
It nice to see you in magazines but it feels even more nice to know that there is a girl out there in some village
Who now believes it's possible because of you
Africa saved her daughter, and by doing so
It saved all
Sources > coming soon:-)
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
By Ombuge Moses
You sleep on a crack ground
Empty is the stomach
Hot is the sun
Nothing to quench the crack
The thirst is killing
Cracked is my throat
Helplessly you lay
You sleep on a crack ground
Your cry is echoing
My ears cannot stop
My tears cool my cheeks
My face is running dry
You sleep in a crack ground
Forever never to see you again
Mama has followed you
Death has come
It’s so helpless
Who to run to
They promised food
They brought food
They promised water
They brought water
We need food
We need water
We are dying of hunger, of thirst
Who will take care of me the orphan?
Will I die before the next food come?
Will I die before the next water come?
Will I die like Baba?
Will I lay helpless to death like Mama?
I cry indeed
Not In want
When they saw us dying
They brought canned food
When they saw us dying
They brought bottled water
This is a customary issue, problem
Death of hunger
Thirst to death
The solution is death, for me
For you, solution- canned food, bottled water
We need a source
Give us a water source
To plant the seed
To eat from our labor
Weeding, Oh! How is it done?
Irrigating the plant
Nurturing the crop
To live to see a generation
A healthy life
An ordinary way to live
You sleep on a cracked ground
You sleep in a cracked ground
Dead, you are gone
I your son,
Tonight, I sleep on a cracked ground
If I see tomorrow, I will bury you Mama
I will water your grave Baba
If they give me a water source
Bottled one, I will quench
The thirst that killed you Mama
Use the source to irrigate
Plant a seed, to grow food
A healthy mind
Never to sleep
A cracked ground
God, to guide
A Kenyan, for a generation
Copyright © Moses Ombuge | Year Posted 2011
In this land we had a President teacher
So was our nice neighbour next door
A fertile ground to hold holy such a duty
An easy guess : respect was far more important
Than what we thought of compensation for labour
That renders throats dry sniffing chalk dust
Only moon will tell when will settle the chalk dust
A sunset ago, a gavel gave hope to a teacher
After a century of glittering tearful labour
Now hope of a sincere deal beckoning at the door
No doubt heavier pocket will make light his duty
Money sweetens always what is already important
In every corner of the land you find among the important
A teacher who rides to the market on a bicycle full of dust
Because he has a family to cater for besides his duty
There is no story more familiar in Kenya than a teacher’s
He accepted to teach in a classroom without a door
And to inspire under such sick conditions of labour
The teacher has earned respect through honest labour
So we must put him up there among the important
Grateful we are to defender who opened him a door
To enjoy the fruits and economy of perfumed chalkdust
To walk an inch higher and remind all: “I am a teacher”
A demonstration of honour to an age old duty
We have finally woken up to our reality of duty
To those who polish our brains through hard labour
The doctor up the street and senator have been to a teacher
The syringe makes a doctor, the chalk makes a teacher important
I hope the doctor will know it is the stress and curse of chalk dust
When a tired smart man consults him behind a closed door
Hope is high up the sky, admin keeping a policy of open door
Who are we not to encourage him in this line of duty?
With further engagements we will settle the dust
And render hopeful around country the classroom labour
We will bring to town a statue in memory of a teacher
For all sectors to know he who holds the bottom is important
Hope the momentum will not blow on our faces some other dust
And cut short the celebrations with humiliation for our teacher
What this land has achieved in this regard is far too important
Copyright © Kilalo Mwashighadi | Year Posted 2015
We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''
The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The luhya introduced Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness.
To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.
Kenyans were born great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race,
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.
If we were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.
Copyright © Kaiga Sandra | Year Posted 2013
scouts stand proud
two spears and shield
immortalizing Kenya's legacy
Name: Teddy Kimathi
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2015
Storm coming, madam
Me-- I’m going up country--
Lay low and stay sweet*
*stay sweet--stay alive
November 26, 2012
Note: Political unrest near Nairobi, Kenya due to election strategies. Polish nun told me that she was warned by a local moonshine runner to hide. Too late. She was pistol whipped by local police who wanted more protection money. Didn’t get the money (it was a free clinic, so nurses had no money) Police beat the nurse/nuns and absconded with the very rare and precious AIDS meds to sell to the hospitals.Free AIDS clinic was forced to close.(Kenyan government does not have free health care for the poor) Nuns are recovering then being transferred to other clinics. Three went back to Europe forced into early medical retirement due to permanent injuries sustained by police and/looters. The care program(education and/or placement) for the children whose parents were AIDS patients is gone. Children have taken to the streets in desperation. Count your blessings.
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012
A huge ego breaks off love’s embrace,
A tiny ego slips off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A selfless ego suffocates from love’s embrace,
A selfish ego wards off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A super-visual ego overshadows love’s embrace,
A deep-seated ego is colonized by love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A healthy ego humbly looks above,
A healthy ego can lead and also serve...
Its nerves know not pressured blood,
But developing it is almost hard!
Copyright © Kenyan Poets Lounge for Poetry and poems in Kenya | Year Posted 2012
The CRY OF A KENYAN.
Rihanna talks of The New America
It seems same for poor Kenya
Our one and only treasure
Drowning in the dark
Driven by cartels of no concern
No care for the next generation.
And here's my plead.
Am lost within a nation
No name no trace
No location no possession
No government but govern men
No freedom but free doom
Threats are the new proverbs
New slogans taking over,
(guilty till proven rich)
Corruption a current chess game
Leadership now a business gap
Leaders being Board Members
Cabinet being the shareholders
I wonder if we are the debtors
No say, since the burden is too big.
Am tired, torn, worn and tortured for my silence
Enough, if the flowing blood
Enough of the illegal lands
Enough of the assassinations
Coz Kenya is now more less Hollywood.
A crew hired to act the movie
The happenings seem dreams
All like fiction in The Originals.
The only fact, that time is passing
No longer can we entrust our lives on the government
No longer can we express out freely
No longer are our cases ruled with justice
Cases clog in the courts.
No longer can even prayers shaken their utter
No longer do they fear the Supreme One
But in churches, all different
Sited like an innocent infant
Faked sorrows while praying
All aiming to win our trust
Let's standout,Kenyans for Kenya
Let's open up eyes, and stop being fooled
Let's stop falling on their knees like slaves
A fact,they are meant to be our servants
But act like we are theirs slaves
Some lie to be fighting for us
But are after the seat, to grab the cheques
Wanting the privileges and Excellency
Let's stand for our poor Kenyans
Say No to their treachery
A New Kenya, me and you. — thinking about Kenya.
courtesy of Kagz de falsa as at 10/06/2016
Copyright © Amos Kagiri | Year Posted 2016
Open Letter to you,
MY LOVELY HATE SPEECH
I hate my speech today, yesterday and the day dust rises.
I was there opening my eyes carelessly, smiling like an idiot
I was gazing shamelessly, walking like an idler without course
Little did I notice my vehicle lose direction; little did I notice my head bleeding
I was just there; the settled dust rising, tables turning, grenades and bullets are now apples
Little did I know the power in my lovely hate speech.
What pride did we get after slaughtering fellow Kenyans like goats,
What are the stuttering rifles rattling about, are humans turning game,
What are the grenades doing in civilian pockets, are they keys
Why are the churches burning, you cannot tell me tis the holy ghost fire,
What has that neighbour done, why is that policeman lying there,
Why is no body answering me, am I alone, or are you wondering too
Should I assess the power in my lovely hate speech, am concerned.
My love speech I hate you, my hate speech I love you
Both speeches are one, are the same, of same taste, I hate my passion for you
I love my fellow politician, i love his dirge during my friend’s burial
You bleeding mammoth my friend, I like your corrupt tummy
You scavenger of your own carcass, I like your greed for power
You megalomaniac virus of a beloved country, we love you, let us be
Little do we know death will let you release us, How uncertain are we of you.
My eyes are full of your ocean, the palace you exhume immorality
My ears are preoccupied with your desert, the desert devoid of trust, and the just
My nostrils have your pungent infamy, your callous greed, your everything
My mind can’t decipher the thought of your sanity, your policies and you
You make me lose taste, you make me look like you, you make me you
I am youthful to the economy, i am youthful to the wise, am not youthful to your “youth”
Little do i know death will let you release me, How uncertain am i of you.
Am talking about you, what have i said about me? What?
I hope I know the promise in my Kenyan Anthem
I hope I have a plan of getting rid of the chaff, the you
I hope am not you, i hope you don’t like seeing me wise
I hope your son is listening, the son that wants my very own daughter
I hope am the government, the government of me, for me and by me
I hope i know peace, the peace am preaching, the peace you hate. I hope.
Mzee Emmanuel Mwau.
Copyright © EMMANUEL MWAU | Year Posted 2012
small gasps of air
escape hearts of a feather
someone lifted the ground higher
someone lowered the sky closer
because somehow the clouds seem so close
like a minute away
like I just want to raise my hand up
and snatch that cotton candy
and to my mouth to melt
and to my skin to caress
someone brought out the moon so early
in its full splendour it's there to admire
give me a hug dear moon
let me reciprocate dear moon
from the skin so smooth
to a polygamy talk so tempting
in this modern day and age
I guess you will have your man cave in the middle
of two or four huts, whatever number you choose to have
international lullaby you have mastered
from the Kenyan jewel
to the Indonesian gem
back to the America's gorgeous
and who knows, Latinos so close
small gasps of air
escapes hearts of a feather
it's so clear to see,
to love without boundaries
the love of a broken heart
tries the winds from a many directions
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2016
They told me that it was going to be alright,
My daughter what a pride,
Smiling, happy to have joined,
The symphony of military life.
Back then it was alright,
Till they brought her in a coffin,
A body gored without eyes,
A badge of honor,
And the Kenyan flag.
I fodled her shaven head,
Hugged her legless body,
Then I realised I was 60,
And still I cried.
"She's gone to Paradise,
to be with God and the Angels in the sky,
To sing in white and fly like a kite."
None of that could stop the pain of death,
Staring into my eyes telling me that I was weak,
As the priest poured the dust Atop her coffin,
"Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust,we all return,"
The heat, the pain, pins and needles,
The sweat, the blood, the coffin going down,
I was beaten at last.
I covered my eyes, the tears coming in torrents,
Sobbing because she had gone so fast,
lips shaking, teeth rattling, mucus dripping,
The world turned blurry and all went black,
I opened my eyes my friends by my side,
That all this while I'd been acting tough,
And still I cry.
Copyright © Titus Daudi | Year Posted 2016
I am Dedan
I tell tales
Tales of fight
Tales of freedom
Freedom to breathe
Freedom to think
Think to prosper
Think to liberate
Liberate my land
Land is the mother
Land of my origin
Origin of human
Origin to be evolved
Evolved you are
Evolved from this land
Land you have ruled
Land you have exploited
Exploited to profit
Profit demands more
Profit demands all
All is not yours
All are human
Face the truth
Face to face
Face it nicely
Face divine eyes
Eyes don’t lie
Eyes will see
See the resemblance
See all equal
Equal we are
Equal are the rights
Rights to retrieve
Rights to render
Amity can resolve
Amity got the power
Power to excel
Power to be kind
Kind to mankind
Kind to Dedan
Dedan did fight
Dedan fought for freedom
Dedan Kimathi Waciuri (31 October 1920 – 18 February 1957) born Kimathi wa Waciuri, was a leader of the Mau Mau which led an armed military struggle known as the Mau Mau uprising against the British colonial government in Kenya in the 1950's. A highly controversial character, Kimathi's life has been subject to intense propaganda by both the British government who saw him as a terrorist, and Kenyan nationalists who view him as the heroic figurehead of the Mau Mau rebellion. Despite being viewed with disdain by the Jomo Kenyatta regime and subsequent governments, Kimathi and his fellow Mau Mau rebels are now officially recognised as heroes in the struggle for Kenyan independence by the incumbent government.This follows passage of a new Constitution in 2010 calling for recognition of national heroes, amid a dismaying trend in post-independent Kenya where benefits of the freedom struggle largely went to those who did little in its behalf while those who sacrificed the most went neglected or dishonoured. Dedan's role is perhaps the most memorable and heroic in the struggle to free Africans from the colonial yoke. His capture and execution in 1957 led to the eventual defeat of the uprising by the British colonial government. [Source Wikipaedia]
Copyright © Anindya Mohan Tagore | Year Posted 2016
I am baffled, stunned, dumbfounded
Completely nonplussed by the persistence
Of the international criminal court
In harassing the popularly elected Kenyan
President and his popularly elected deputy
As rogue entities terrorize Eastern Europe
The Arab World and my beloved Africa
All around us people are being beheaded
Or otherwise massacred on a whim
Innocent people who would, if free,
Choose to live and let live in peace
Rather than engage in perpetual
Callous, wanton and unprovoked
Slaughter of those they despise.
Aljazeera, BBC and CNN daily broadcast
The atrocities committed by the Islamic state
The beheadings are posted on the internet
And broadcast on radio, tv and newspapers
And while the moguls make their millions
In the dissemination of the villainy
The United Nations looks on puzzled
Or perplexed, mystified or even dazed
By the enormity or complexity of it all
Leaving me to wonder whether
This world body is not being manipulated
For the ends of a few powerful members
Who believe their fortunes would flourish
With the weakening of these regions!
If you can hear me, Ban Ki Moon
Hearken, the downtrodden moan!
Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2014
I’m in love with a Masai Boy
Tall sable-skinned giant.
In hand, a stick his joy
Smile; true lips of a saint!
Wealth: bull, cow and calf
Safe from creatures feline
Identity, not Masai by half
But, nomad of a royal line.
Sceptre; his wooden sticks
Royal Cloth, the red robes...
Savouring gore with licks
Logs stuck in his earlobes.
“Stands with imposing height
“Scanning the Masai Mara
“On a leg of striking might!”
So writes his lover Clara.
“High Jumper of renown,”
Again, she sent the tweets,
“Sound sleep have I known
“He jumps inside sheets!”
**With Love & Respect for the exemplary fortitude of Kenyan Cultures, whose “imposing height” (evocative of the Masai) is a pride of Human sanctity.
**The Poem is a reflection of, sometimes, a cross-culture and cross-racial marriages that, despite diversity in norms, may bestow a fantastic experience and everlasting bliss.
**With happy memories of my Friend, Gerald Kithinji, a Patriotic Poet of Kenya (his beautiful Homeland.)
02nd Nov’ 2013
Copyright © Joseph Matose | Year Posted 2013
A nonchalant summers breeze seeps silent through a window
Carries soft memories scent of
Warm kenyan musk air
Which rests in a deep dark corner
Faint distant scratching of
Which wavers gently
At the now noir sea...
As the tiny cream crabs rest their
Oh so suspicious eyes
Whilst there's still no peace for the wicked
In my mind to the heavens door
Once stroked its soothing sand
Through my course
And I know this place
My very just delight
By the Indian Ocean on a balcony
In the dead of the night x
Copyright © Karen Deeks | Year Posted 2012
I remember meeting you many years ago
That warm Sunday afternoon
I remember the love I got from you, your mum, your dad and your sister
Like an avalanche you guys embraced me with greater love I couldn't have imagined
I was young student from Kenya new in a world and culture that I couldn't have known how to deal with if it wasn't for people like you
That aurora of love have seen me this far
I remember coming to your soccer games
You were so good
Girl, you made your parents so proud
Your dad was the luckiest of all the dads, because he also was the coach
Like an avalanche, your physical ability and stability won you many games
Then many years later there was separation and divorce, and boom! Things changed from there
But even with the aurora of pain hanging around, you, your mum and your sister still got time to give me the best 21st birthday ever
And from that day, I've been hooked to cheesecake
Then after that we dint hang out as much
I got busy with school
Your mum had to get couple jobs
Once in awhile me and your mum had dinner
And did some catching up
She told me about you
Sad news to my ears
The people you hang out with it
The trouble you were getting into
Coming to visit you in jail is one of the hardest things I've ever done
I was so embarassed and scared
I dint know how to approach you in that kind of meeting
You were happy to see me
"Susan, I've made some bad decisions in my life" you said to me
You talked about changing your life; no more guns, no more drugs, no more bad company
You were so confident
You weren't scared, I was scared
You had that street aura that nobody can mess with you
You proudly showed your many tattoos that covered you all over
You showed me your muscles too
Your mum says, you are the son your dad never had
The most touching moment for me was when you sang me that Swahili song, the song you guys sang for me the first time we met
I couldn't control my tears coz I remember you as this quite hardworking girl that loved soccer so much
You reminded me of the dinner I had at my place, where I entertained you all with some kenyan cuisine and music
Your grandparents were there too, I respect them so much for their missionary work in Kenya and Zaire
Girl, I love you
I pray for you
I pray that you may have better years to come
I pray that positive aurora of life will lead you through
I pray that no matter what avalanche befalls on
You; whether positive or negative
You will have the tools to deal with it
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
An effortless stride
A world record performance
A victory lap
Tribute to the great Kenyan runners
Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2015
The books are open
to us who fatten
mice into pigs
even tho' u limp, brethren
crawl to the ward
take seat in the arena
curtains will part
To you : Be brutal!
Copyright © Kilalo Mwashighadi | Year Posted 2016
My Three Kenyan Friends
I met them this weekend at a friend’s house in Indianapolis
The sweetest siblings you would ever want to meet
Blessed by the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ
In their smiles was the love of my Savior
Three wonderful smiles
Three wonderful hearts
Friendship established for evermore
My three Kenyan friends
We are now all brothers and sisters
All dining on the caviar of our King!
Copyright © Gwendolen Song | Year Posted 2014
Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall. Black Blood was used to paint. Black Blood. Blood bought from the very same people who stood side by side with you 25 years ago. Now that their kids have been given the Freedom you have fought for, all of a sudden that same Freedom must be taken away because they are taking land that is considered to be free. Not yours, free. So what do we call this? Xenophobia or Stupidity? Cause it was King Zwelithini who commanded for his former friends to be removed from this land now he has disappeared because he finally realised that Black Blood can't be used to paint a White Picture on a Black Wall.
So what has happened to South Africa? The most diverse country in the world can't accept a few foreigners. People look down on South Africans saying that we are too lazy. On average how many South Africans would rather choose to sit down and complain about the unemployment rate instead of being innovative and creating new jobs? How many foreigners do you see on the streets with their piece jobs? Thousands. That's because they understand that they came here to work not to sit around and expect Zuma to visit your home and give you a job. But who am I to address my own country. Will they kill me too? After all, Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall.
So if I was to ask a fellow South African what picture did they paint I wonder what they would tell me. It's either you Black or you White they say. Whether you're Black, White, Indian, Coloured, Nigerian, Zimbabwean or Kenyan you're African I say. Imagine if all the South Africans in different countries were killed because quite frankly they are foreigners too. Please don't come tell me about being Black or White because Xenophobia is the result of confused people trying to see an invisible light. I can't believe we are having a repeat of Apartheid with our own kind. Those who fought for us are now considered to be the ones against us. If I could, I would change my race to Grey because sometimes people don't know whether they are fighting against Black or White. The picture is so clear you can tell that Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall.
So what are we becoming? Humans that can't love each other. Why aren't the Chinese being killed for opening up their China Malls occupying more space than the thousand of equivalent foreigners and their small place? Whether you're Chinese or Indian, diversity makes you South African. We are so busy disturbing the peace and equality within ourselves that people who enjoy inflicting pain have even turned around in shame. Tell me what would happen to all those families that have lost their sole breadwinners, fathers, friends and most importantly, lost the reason to pursue a dream to make the very same country that took his only parent away, a better place? All these innocent people have now passed and I simply applaude you and say. Well done. You've earned yourself a job, salary, happy family, home, car and all of life's treasures. And all you ever did was finally stand up, walk out and increase the unemployment rate. Then next year you will walk in, sit down and complain about the unemployment rate. So infact you don't know what you really want. That is a result of a Black Painting On A Black Wall.
Copyright © Langeni Mate | Year Posted 2015
A new species,
In the mist appears
In his binocular spheres
Never seen before smiles
To conquer primitive fears
Overcoming basic instincts
To rule he was destined
The beauty of his offspring
Bright as a fresh ray of spring
An innovative, beautiful mind
Leaving the prehistoric behind
He ran like a Kenyan
He fought like a Spartan
And told stories like a historian
And healed gladiators like a physician
He is a galactic child
Searching for the cities of gold
For all his life he was told
Go wild before you get old
Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2015