Development

November 2007

We are perfect and bold as the sky above
we’re blessed with voices and wings like doves
so the sea claps with the rocks to cheer us on
for we are one with the earth, so gentle and dear.

But our perfection is tainted and stained and smeared
and our smiles are broken and curved in frowns of fear
fear to fly and fall and lose our all.

Some are more ‘perfect’ with their pockets of gold
dreaming each day for more and more to hold.
They run further and faster from the rusty and dusty
and while in their glittering and towering mansions
they drunkenly share with their select companions:

“I saw this old lady’s hand in my face
and held out a penny to try and save face,
I heard the crying of the hungry babies
But only had aspirin for their ignorant mothers,
I shut their useless men up
With cigarettes and cheap liquor
I have everything to lose…yet more to gain”

You ask where compassion and sharing have gone.
They’re not in your pocket, you must build anew.
Take your heart and cleanse it with love and peace
Tear your shiny shoes and clothes off
They are blinding your eyes from truth
Stand in the nakedness and passion of freedom
Then listen…
Listen to the silence of those voiceless souls
Listen to the wisdom whispered in the wind
Follow the promise of a transformed humanity
And lead on with faith, courage and humility.

HOW IRONIC

How ironic, uhuru park now lies on prison’s edge
Holding hostage the beauty of a national heritage
Like a vagabond with no beautiful songs or dances
What a virus! Insipid yet vengeful and venomous.

The symbols of the greens are blown and battled
Out of the oblivion of the unknowing tender minds
And oh! how the eminent drop like ashes
Into graves and gravy fuelled peace talks

I was caught up in the powerful’s baffling and canning
he was my friend, my legs for running
but I have no more yard to go to, my home I must defend
the bubble around my heart I must suspend

I hear them condemning violence, shaking hands at tea
Yet their faces fill the screens in word exchange
Plunging our emotions into heated debate
Our friends now foe, our husbands now hidden

There are widows singing late into the blackened night
There are those nursing more darkened wounds
Humming a charred tune to her dying baby
Praying for Samaritans to bury her children’s bones

What a laugh! News articles on cravings of the affluent
Of food addictions and endless rear
Yet at the door of our mansions, they’re empty and spent
More lives are tossed unmarked, while we enjoy a castle beer

But don’t worry about the starving homeless
You’ve given him face and fame in death and doom
He shines at the strike of the dazzling flash
Aphrodisiaced by the trail of press and words so harsh

2. feb.2008

HAVE YOU SEEN THE GHOST IN KISUMU

Have you seen the ghost in Kisumu?
He has covered the town in smoke and soot
He has soaked the people in fear and anxiety
This ghost has wiped the faces off the streets.

Have you smelt the ghost in Kisumu?
The ghost is burning bodiless tarmac
The bodies of the lifeless lie in stinking silence
The limbless are grateful for breath without gangrene

Have you seen the ghost in Kisumu?
He resides in the hearts of the hopeless and helpless
The ghost has swam through the fishless lake
And blocked the passages of life and love, in or out

Have you heard of the ghost in Kisumu?
I heard his whisper in the still of night,
of doom yet to embrace the town
Of animals and monsters creeping into the land
Of haunting existence and bloody resistance

I have touched the hand of the ghost in Kisumu
It is cold and hot in its grips of the children’s smiles
It has slapped the love and faith off the faces of our mothers
That hand holds back the flow of life into oblivious stagnation.

Have you seen the ghost in Kisumu?
He’s sun bathing in the heat of the tensions underneath the surface
He has taken the food from the mouths of our people
He has driven the people from their homes and hopes.

The ghost of Kisumu is hovering in our minds
The ghost in Kisumu s waiting for the devil’s dance
Whiling the moments in the cracks and creases of our paths
Enjoying the scenery of our waterless boat-free lake.

13. Jan.2008

No Rest for The Wicked in Poltics

26 Dec 07

There was no Christmas for the wicked in politics
The tension and jitters were high
The sleep was nigh
Agents filled every nook and cranny in the homestead
The hope was to keep them intact
And make sure they’d be back on the day of work
Especially with their pockets lined with cash for their pay
The pay was made before a mistake later regretted
Late into the night till the midnight hour
The agents consulted with their parliamentarian to be
With each other the discussed how work should be done at the polling stations
What to read and how to take note
Of any successes and any abnormalities
After midnight they slumbered,
Some in their drunken state stared as we worked through the night
Making tea and chatting of the day to come
We chatted and dozed in the cold darkened night
Now the wee hours of the morning are drawing near
Scared to rest any head on the pillows
Lest the day passes and leave us behind
So an hour and a half later we woke the workers
We served tea and mandazis at 2am
Some complained, especially the ‘empowered’ women
Who slept in the warmth of the living room
While their male counterparts crammed the vehicles
And the crowded office
Others sat up and finished their hard drinks
Drunkenness keeping them afloat
And their eyes ablaze
He commented on how he saw mum and I
walk back and forth through the kitchen room
he asked for ugali and not for tea
at 2am the drop offs begin
each handed a container with pilau and a bottle of water
some were pleased some were pissed
but there were always the ungrateful so and sos
“where shall I carry this, I have no bag”
“is this enough or will it be over before I reach the station”
“don’t you have a plastic bag for me to carry to our destination”
But by second trip we went along too
Eyeballs nearly popping out, and ready to drop
No amount of coffee could trip me into the wake up zone
So off to the constituency, in our anxious sleepy state.