Daughter of the Universe

I stand here in tears,
But unashamed,
Never unloved.


But the pieces begin to gain strength.


I’ll let this dream
Lead me on,
To the ends of the earth.


After all,
I’m I still not the daughter of the universe?
Still belong to the one who made the universe?

This is the simple me

This is the simple me



Never will I be ashamed of my sex,
Born a fighter,
And I will be thither



The other day I visited my grandma up country for a routine those youu-have-to-visit-every-now-and-then-to-show-you-are-an-awesome-grandson kind of visits, and for a moment was thrown aback, back in the day of public transport to shags as toddlers and not much has changed if any at all. The endless political dialogues of the elderly, the fits of 3yr old boys, the tantrums of 8yr old girls and the occasional scream from a mother trying to pull her toddler son from climbing out the window, the occasional nag of “simamisha gari nikojoe” or “simamisha hapo kwa mahindi”,it never gets old, does it? there something that beats he lone travel, a certain aura that comes with crowded psvs and all the shenanigans that are public transportation, at the time the only thought is usually GOD why don’t you give a me car and spare me of this melodrama, this embarrassing case scenarios of a hot chick seated next to you farting and then giving you this awkward smile,. But once the burden has been lifted of your shoulders the journey so to speak isn’t as interesting any more, I am probably sure am the only individual dwelling in a third world country, middle class who thinks the touts sweat(creepy) and the pampers toss through the window is wait for it…..cool,. Yes I said it, but the love, the feeling of collective fortitudes of unknown bonds from total strangers just gives the impression of uniqueness like no other, be it random dialogue from a total stranger on how awesome the roads are and how perfect the weather is this time of the year, or the bickering between the tout and a fat mama being asked to pay twice the fare, the show off chick with excessive make up on her face, cheap Abuja corn rolls and this young dude by her side trying to break the imaginary ice, wearing cheap perfume that makes the elderly guy next to him go on an unwmatatuanted journey of seizures’ caused by over extended sneezes asking”wewe kwani ulioga na malashi”,the sensitive, the insensitive, the bragging all meet up here.It is said you are guarantee to get more drama in a bus travelling up country than in two series of your best telenovela. I kid you not, I have travelled next to a man who was convinced and was doing a pretty good job in doing the same towards me of the fact that he had 5 master degrees from oxford by the fakish American accent while bragging he just returned from a 10 yr. long stay in Britain, the good, the bad the ugly we see it all in our PSVs you might even get the occasional weekly service that you intentionally missed on Sunday while on your journey to a night club. It’s only in Kenya such stuff happens and I wouldn’t mind parking to the side and booking a MAT just for the fun of it.


Climbing up from down in the gutter

Ray of light amidst the mad slaughter

Vigil for my past endeavors

Just wish i had a pen and paper

I remember the flashbacks though

Bits of memory lapses,cold sores

Closer to the edge with every tip toeimage

You’d think he’d learnt from rob,jack and Joe

Guess its never that serious until it hits home


The odds were stacked up against him, middle aged and rich life never looked better, he got a drive off challenges, an erotic surge of some sort with every block and hurdle that he came across, bumps were pedestals, picket fences on his pathways were energy drinks. He was the kind that thrived on peoples misfortunes. And he liked it.He bragged as the supporter of the deadliest killer of all time, yes some called him the angel of death, the living incarnation of beltezar,with every campaign advert he ran. “yes people smoke a stick a day, two if you’re up to it, a packet makes you stand out, yes royalty, a packet is royalty!!”He loved his job. The bear heads of cancer patients and the fragile emaciated bodies didn’t suffice the least remorse from the shallowest depths of his ice box that most people called a heart, to him it was just another organ, like a kidney, or liver and his personal favorite…THE LUNGS…ironic though,. He understood power was key, and money was the combination code in unlocking this mystery called a living. He understood all was fair in love and war and power struggle and pretty much everything on this rock he dwelt on, he had seen it all. Who said wealth did not bring joy? Who said power wasn’t everything? Ooh yes it was the powerless poor looser. The one who did not have two dimes to his name, and had not gotten a bite of this juicy apple. It felt awesome, exhilarating, to be adored.

dictator-1 Who cared why…..he wasn’t naive though, he understood 85% of all his acquaintances’ hang around due to his nine-digit pay slip. And societal power influence, but allegiance no matter how superficial it was and obedience gave him confidence and control. He loved it.According to the good book he was on a direct ticket to Hades. He guessed that is what they called sin, but he also understood why the apple was so inviting on that garden, he loved being in charge, being feared, he loved being bowed to, and he loved the moments of applause award after award. He did not understand the world; they chastised him for selling poison to the people yet accorded him awards for entrepreneurial ingenuity. He had a slogan, a mantra he chanted on the daily, when you’re bad people love you.The world isn’t looking for saints, the world adored Hitlers,the Iddi Amins,the Stalins,the world was grateful for Saddam and Gaddafi,the world wanted to be oppressed and spit on. They begged for mistreatment and violence, he only stepped up to fill the shoes. Moreover, quit nice they fit, he was content, for now. He looked at the society and drew strength from its weaknesses’; he failed to fathom, its ignorance, its hypocrisy. The poor despised the wealthy and claimed they were proud, the filthy rich were having shady deals with the devil, or so they said, but he cared less. He was living the epitome of success; he sacrificed a lot to get to the top. He stepped on toes, spit on faces and mud smeared but he understood that the end justified the means. For him the rules never applied the only rule he channeled was, if it could be seen, then it could be acquired. If you have to crawl for it ,jump for it run towards it if you needed badly enough then sin was never an issue because despite all things the apple always tasted better.


I have a dream yeah a dream
Yet am just another black kid
Joe says we are the social
He says we are the hospitable
Joe slept hungry yesterday, he did
Looking above for help, he believes
The august man he wonders
Why won’t he believe as does he,
That a human life is worth the fee
Yes I have a dream, Joe is in it
I apologize for having a darker skin
Guess I was over baked by the king
I said I have a dream, but I’m scared
Martin had one too, remember him?
Yeah I am a little bit darker than he,
My kind were thrown in this dark place
They say the Lord visits this place,
Guess he always finds me asleep
My mom told me He cares for us more
That’s why I still believe, that He is
I still dream, but I’m no longer sure
Do they still come true, for us??
We inhabitants of the dark side of the globe

We are we, still I dream,… MARTIN



Have you ever had this image

That you can see in your mind’s eye?

It’s not there

It is a version

Of something

You can literally see

It is a distorted version

Of reality





This gets me thinking

Could our fears

Just be

Distortions of reality?

Could they be

A distortion of the truth?



I think sometimes our fears

Are unreal

They should not keep us from

Accomplishing more

Being who we were meant to be


Just like the image that sends

Cold chills down our spines

A distorted version of reality

Is what fear is


do we then allow fear

to our dreams apart tear

yet we can allow ourselves to hear

the voice calling inside

to the dream bear

like a woman

in labor?


I wish you were here

I was listening to a song called “Without You” by a duo. These are 2 brothers whose stage name is “For King and Country”. The story behind the song is very sad. You can look it up on You Tube.

Today is Saturday,
Life’s pace been crazy,
It was jus today morning that,
I was out

But wait,
Its so serene here
I wish you were here
To listen to the wind blow
To the cars on the distant road

I wish you were here
And you were mine
I wish we would sit here
In the silence
Just you and me
In our world