Tuesday 27 August 2013

It’s a “G” thang!


What is the general rule on making fun of gay people? This is an earnest question I’m posing. No tongue in cheek here. Someone please loop me in. Am I likely to start a storm in this teacup if I poked fun at gays? I’m sorry, what’s that? They will take offense? Really? What, gays can wear heels but are incapable of laughing at themselves? Isn’t that double standards and being somewhat uptight? (No pun, of course). Camaan!

 Listen, last month I read this Op-ed piece in the Washington Post about this rousing “renaissance” of gayism. It was a satirical piece that theorized the intellectual supremacy of gay people. The writer went ahead and dropped names of some of the most successful gay people in business, arts, culture and sports and tried to link their sexuality to their success. It was a foolishly hysterical piece because I’m sure there are also unsuccessful gay people. I think your level of intelligence isn’t dictated by your sexuality. Anyway, the piece came an inch from implying that gayism was the new green movement global phenom and it generated over 800 heavy-breathing comments by gays, homophobes, bible thumpers, and the French. I learnt one vital thing from that piece; that gays don’t use smileys as much as I had imagined.

Teeth for Sale, Fatherhood

After five years, she finally packed her stuff. Not that she has much. A few dresses. Half a dozen tights. Tops. Socks. Jackets. Knickers. Vests. Shoes. They all fitted in her small holdall. She seemed excited at the prospect of leaving, maybe because she saw this as freedom, as independence. She would finally be the lady she has always wanted to be, the lady she couldn’t be. She would finally do as she damn pleased. I wasn’t around when she left, but when I came back I knew she was gone because the house sighed heavily with her absence. And it was deathly still.

So after taking a shower, I succumbed to temptation and phoned her up and I inquired how she was doing. She said she was fine. (And you know what that means, when a woman says that). I asked if she missed home, and there was a brief silence in the phone before she said, “yes,” faintly, like she was embarrassed someone would hear her. Or maybe she was embarrassed to having to lie to me. “When will you come back?” I heard myself ask.

As a general rule, I don’t hang out in Westlands


As a general rule, and as a need to preserve my sensibility, I don’t hang out in Westlands. But I went recently, to pay homage to a friend who was having a birthday thing, and I was reminded once again why it’s not a place that gongs my bell. At dusk, Woodvale Grove transform into a green ugly vein of profligacy that throbs like a septic wound. If Nairobi is a body, then Westlands is it’s varicose vein.

It’s the gridlocked traffic at 2am, twisted and whorled together like overnight spaghetti. It’s the horde of drunken underdressed girls in their high heels and blood red lips and vacant looks, jaywalking across the road as they cling onto the arms of their men whose eyes twinkle with ideas. It’s the hubbub of the music spilling onto the streets from all the clubs competing for patrons. It’s the long-nosed young expats standing in the cold outside Bacchus and Havana Bars totally disbelieving of their good fortune at being in Africa complete with a gardener and a slender girl with half her tits in his mojito. It’s the spoilt daddy’s boys from Gigiri who crawl by the street in their latest serpent black luxury sports cars, with interior lights switched on so that you don’t miss the face of privilege. And in the air, the smell of sexual anticipation hangs like Limuru fog in July and will remain so until the dawn sunlight blows it away to Kitengela.

A power nap in the ditch

 He works in a bank. A Relationship Manager. He’s good with people, he reads them. He spends his days giving people what they think they want. He negotiates with them. He acts like he cares about these people; he has to because people with money demand attention. But to him they’re simply bottom lines. He doesn’t love working in a bank though but now he has his own office. And his own phone line. So he stays because soon he might have his name on his door.
He’s 33. Two boys; 4 and 2years old. A wife. No pets. He rents a three-bedroom apartment in some old apartment block in Parklands. He’s lucky, rent is cheap. His landlord lives in India, every month he wires money into his account. He plans to save for another year then develop some plot in Ngong. He’s Kisii.
The Banker wears suits to earn a living. But his taste in suits isn’t the best, which could be something to do with his tribe. The suits hang around his shoulders. Sometimes their colour reminds you of a fruit. His suits fit like most TV anchors’. Gunny bags. But The Banker’s personality overshadows his suits unlike those who wear suits to make up for their bland personality. He has a large laughter and when he laughs he’s those guys who will slap you the back. Of course it hurts.
He’s a fairly tall chap, the Banker. But he’s growing heavy around the midsection. He’s started going for swimming at Aga Khan Sports Club every Saturday afternoon. But he loves his beer.

Ignorance was always bliss in such a case she figured

By Faith MakauShort stories

She got that funny feeling again and she didn’t like it. Every time Kariz called it was perfunctory. It reminded her of high-school when they used to check- in for roll-call. This was odd. She used to look forward to his calls but lately she felt weary. It had been a week yet she hadn’t even noticed. Maybe it was because now they seemed to be leading separate lives. He told her of a trip he was planning for the next month with a couple of guys but she was nonchalant. Her mind wandered as he went on and on. Previously she would have wanted to be in on every detail. But she realised now that the less she knew the better. Anyhow, she had lived her life for him for too long. It was her turn.

Monday 24 June 2013

Beautiful words

Must read and try to understand the deep meaning of it. They are like the ten commandments to follow in life all the time. 

1.
 Prayer is not a “spare wheel” that you pull out when in trouble, but it is a “steering wheel” that directs the right path throughout. 
2. A Car’s WINDSHIELD is so large & the Rear view Mirror is so small? Because our PAST is not as important as our FUTURE. So, Look Ahead and Move on. 
3. Friendship is like a BOOK. It takes few seconds to burn, but it takes years to write. 
4. All things in life are temporary. If going well, enjoy it, they will not last forever. If going wrong, don’t worry, they can’t last long either. 
5. Old Friends are Gold! New Friends are Diamond! If you get a Diamond, don’t forget the Gold! Because to hold a Diamond, you always need a Base of Gold!

6.
 Often when we lose hope and think this is the end, GOD smiles from above and says, “Relax, sweetheart, it’s just a bend, not the end!
7. When GOD solves your problems, you have faith in HIS abilities; when GOD doesn’t solve your problems HE has faith in your abilities.

8.
 A blind person asked St. Anthony: “Can there be anything worse than losing eye sight?” He replied: “Yes, losing your vision!” 
9. When you pray for others, God listens to you and blesses them, and sometimes, when you are safe and happy, remember that someone has prayed for you. 
10. WORRYING does not take away tomorrow’s TROUBLES, it takes away today’s PEACE.

Thursday 20 June 2013

PAST SAYING

The Sages
Having walked the land over
Their heads bent down
Having thought past thinking
Having dreamt past perceiving
Having looked past seeing
Having sought past finding
Only to find the very essence
Of these things
Which are simply but
Past saying

The White Ants
Of the ant hill
Safe in the comfort and protection
Of the ant hill
Seeing golden rays of the sun over head
Dreamt of paradise above
Grew wings and leapt out
What a glorious flight
Wings lost and to the ground doomed
To be trampled upon under foot
And some end swelling the swallows’ belly
A mystery simply but
Past saying

The Flower
So beautiful and insects attraction
Summoning many a lover for a snap
Attraction and photo sessions
Weddings a way of life
Full of aroma and aura
But with the ever changing seasons
Lo! Soon to wither
No more enticing scent and nectar
Of bees and others to by pass
A tale simply but
Past saying

The Town Tycoon
Wealthy and powerful
Luring many a young ones
To the exploit of the sanctity of marital bed
Drugs and substance did abuse
Law and order disregarded
Pushed to oblivion
By nature’s own forces
Now broke and miserable
Begging of food and shelter
A fate simply but
Past saying

The Animals
Schooled by nature
Respectful of the natural law of decency
Deflowering not the minors
Accused not of child trafficking
Know when to honour the sanctity of creation
But lo! And behold
The human beings
Schooled in the formal ways
Civilized so claimed
Engaged in acts so unusual
A lesson simply but
Past saying

That Death
Human universal denominator
Shall surely someday beckon all
To a journey so eternal
Young and old
Small and big
Weak and strong
Male and females
A thought simply but
Past saying

Poet: DEJUOLS Ammbbaassaah and Argwings Clement Aruwah

LET’S GO TRIBAL

My feuding country men
Disciples of divided tribes, Clans and dialects
Descendants of warring nations
Diminishing traditions emerging civilization
I refused to be dragged low to your base level
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

Muzungu Arudi Ulaya
Mwafrika Apate Udongo
Fooling doctrine so enticing
MAU MAU
The colonizing white
Be uprooted to Europe
The vanquished blacks
Land to acquire
What a lie
If so be it
Them let’s go tribal

When they are entrapped
Their clarion call
In the spirit of the nation
A just fight for all
Self their agenda
All their foolery
Brother hyena skin camouflage
Be exposed
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

The home guards
Putrid behind the bar
The independent trumpet calling
How selfless the fooled
No freedom to the home guards
No Uhuru
The freedom fighters unchained
Homely a welcome it was
The national cake all to partake
Oh what a botched pledge
The gluttons
Vomiting upon our bare feet
Our paltry share lavishly upon
Like hungry hyenas descended
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

Harambee.. hoye..
A nation in unison
A common vision discern
These common enemies
To the children of the freed

Poverty disease and illiteracy
In one accord
Of the enemy be unslaved
The new marasmus
Grabbing a preserve to Nyumba ya…OURS
A divisive seeds of discord saw
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

The illegal legalised trade
KARAFU be it
With the nations resources
Advanced
Disclaimer a hare of trickery
If caught
Then be on your own
Police escorts by night
Thieves on the very soul of our land
Depots door flanked opened
To all and sundry

Money changing hands
In the day light a tune
A different song by night
You sang
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

The leadership be preserve
The river not to cross
The fish mongers the sworn enemy
Not invited
The national cake to partake
Theirs be ours and all
And ours be ours and none
The closing of regions
To self dedicated
If you dare
Then in their land to die
And exporting to others their excesses
Exploiters engineers of trade imbalance
On our very shoes yet to vomit
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

The son of the land
Voice you fizzled out
Your disappearing
Extrajudicial cleansing
A new terminology concocted
The KISUMU 1969
RASSIA HOSPITAL
6,000 plus massacre
Innocent souls stifled aborted
To your grave
Never accounted for
We charge and chain
Your spirit in your grave
To 10,000 years of torment and gnashing of teeth
Curse the your name amidst us
And the bearer of the same
For 10,000 years
Impunity a pain on our flesh
A way of life inculcated

We hope to expunge
If not
If so be it
Then let’s go tribal

A poem finally well told.

Poet DEJUOLS Ammbbaassaah

THE BLEEDING CONTINENT

Africa my mother land
My belonging where I belong
Civil war
Hunger and starvation
Coups and counter coups
Blood and death

Daily newspaper flash pictures
Of Africa’s sad face
Exploited and oppressed
Betrayed and Blackmailed
Ridiculed
Africa my mother land
The bleeding continent

War in Liberia
The social order has collapsed
War in Somali
The civil order has collapsed
War in Rwanda
The humanity has collapsed
Africa my motherland
Destine in the hands of disports
Agents of new colonialism
Mouth piece of warring ideological
Antagonist, imposter, usurper
Vampires bleeding you to death
The bleeding continent

From horizon
No glimmer of light of hope
Instead, a dark foul wind of bondage
Crippling chains of debts
Manacles of exploitation
Racial intolerance tearing you apart
Apartheid in the South
Racial conflicts from within and without
The bleeding continent

Africa my mother land
Home for warring feuds
Tribal feuds in Rwanda and Burundi
Hutus against Tutsis
Religions feuds in Sudan
Christians verses Muslims
Clannish feuds in Somali
Africa my motherland
The bleeding continent

Africa my motherland
My belonging where I belong
Listen to the voice of your redeemed
Redeemed from rags of humiliation
Africa my motherland
The cure to all your ailment
All your troubles and tribulation
is unity
Africa unite, unite, unite and
Defeat voicelessness by a strong voice
For unity is strength
Let’s join in the words of the song
By African Pan-Africanist…
Mungu Ibariki Afrika

Poet: DEJUOLS Ammbbaassaah
and
Argwings Clement Aruwah

Would U

Guest Poetess Mutabaruka

Would U

Wen I speak
Do you feel weak
Wen you hear my thoughts
Do you feel caught in the web of hopelessness

Wen I say black
Do you feel its an attack
Or a lack of understandin' on my part
Or just wrath
Comin' from me do you see
Me
As a treat to your safety
Wen I say whitey
Do you consider dat bigotry
If I say I cared not about politics
Would you consider me an anarchist
If I say no to religion
Wold that be considered
An extension
Of my misconcepton
About what u think of me
Do you see what I mean

If I said I didn't smoke
Or take coke
Would you take it for a joke
And cry then wonder why I told such a lie
Are you upset because my poems sometimes make you fret
About the future of things to come

Would you call me a brute
If I wore a suit
Or said I was cute
Do you think I would be a better writer
If my poems were lighter
Spoke more about nature
Or some adventure
That gave me pleasure

Would you love me more
If I spoke less about the poor
And talked about the women I adore

Now after listenin' to this
Are you lookin' for a twist
Or just another rhyme
In the next line

Thew solutions that you seek
Will not be in the streak
Of a pen or even ten line
Of mine

The problems are the same
But don't blame me because I see
That part of reality
That pains
And stains the heart
I came into this life
With neither guns or knives
I made no laws
With all its flaws
About black and white
And whats wrong from whats right
I speak I write of what I see
Of men holdin' men in slavery
Of color class and greed

So don't blame me if wen I speak
You do feel weak
I did not create
Tell me this now
Would u accuse me of causin' a riot
If I was
Quiet
Would you

Saturday 25 May 2013

Friday, May 24th 2013By Jennifer Karina
Masturbation is the process of self-stimulation of the genitals to achieve sexual arousal and pleasure.
 It is achieved by massaging, touching or stroking the penis or clitoris several times. Sometimes stimulation is achieved by using various sex toys. This habit can begin in early years of childhood and, if not discouraged, continue into adulthood. 

Psychosexual development theorist, Sigmund Freud, well known for his works on early childhood development, suggests that a child’s behaviour is oriented towards certain parts of his or her body. According to him, adult behaviours are manifestations of childhood sexual fantasy and desire when the child begins to fondle their private parts.  It is important to discourage this habit because it can result to masturbation in adulthood.

Dirty secrets & lies that bind spouses

By TONY MALESI
Marriage is arguably the most intimate of all relationships human beings have in their lifetime. And as many will tell you, these unions are about honesty and openness. However, it is practically impossible for one to sustain such a life long union by being completely transparent with each other, writes TONY MALESI.
Marriages can actually be saved by lies. The truth of the matter is that many people can hardly handle ugly truths. Actually, naked truth can jeopardise and ruin your marriage. For instance, when a spouse falls out of love, and in fact, secretly falls in insane love with another person, is it the best thing to confess? I am sorry to say this, but you are better off keeping it to yourself.
Willis Mukabane, 57, believes that, at times, lies are the glue that binds relationships and marriages and that if spouses were to tell the truth all the time, then the infamous Kosovo War would be child’s play. God forbid.