Real Women Date Arsenal Fans

Well this was a short weekend. At least for me. Starting and ending on (the) Saturday. I went to church on (the) Saturday and of cause I felt peace at the feet of the Lord. It feels good to let someone bear your life for a moment. I mean they take with them all your life and at that moment you feel a new being. I urge those of you who do not go to church to try this sensational experience in the Lord.
It being a weekend, of cause there was more to it. Another sensational thing I looked forward to. First and foremost, I need to make it clear that I suck at football. Second, I am a fan of watching soccer. Third, I am a mighty supporter of Arsene Wenger’s Arsenal. And I am not ashamed of it. Well this weekend proved tragic. Thank God there are very few supporters of Tottenham I know of. These bunch of guys totally ruined my weekend. And to make it worse, (in fact this is the part that completely made a mess of the whole weekend), I was on the line when the third goal was going in. This friend of mine, decided to give me a call and there she was laughing at me just before the goal went in ‘Oh! Dear there goes the third one’. Well had it not been that I value my phone or that I value the screen I was watching from, all would have gone down. Laughing at a dying man is a No! No! Laughing and mocking the pride of a man is unacceptable. So anyway I swore never to forgive my friend for that but later I forgave. You see, it was a Saturday and it would have been ironic not to forgive.

Arsenal is an iconic football club. Legendary to me. It represents everything I know. The commitment, the struggle, the never giving up spirit even when all seems done (ok that was till the derby side stole that from us). The resilience. Name it. Arsenal has got it all. Of cause its long since the club achieved any honours but that is not to say it’s a losing club. If arsenal were a woman, I think it would be the ideal woman and if it were a man, then I think it would be the type of man all ladies would want to have.
Arsenal is the appreciation that the neighbour next door has a good life, is rich, has a rich husband and all the glamour but you do not look down upon yourself. Arsenal is the ability to create greatness in a man. (I bet all women want to have great sons). To create greatness in yourself. To have people envying you secretly. It is not having to buy a finished product. It is the nurturing of potential to stardom. It is the glory in seeing your product sour height and have people wanting to possess what you have.
Arsenal by far plays the sexiest football. An attribute I think all women would want in their men and vice versa. Arsenal guys have class. They are not only interested in winning but they also enjoy what they do (football). Their ‘touches’ are neat and well placed. Arsenal is sexy and sexy is Arsenal.
Supporting Arsenal is knowing what you want. It is knowing that as much as you are after winning, shit happens and you are derailed off your ambition. It is the factoring in of any circumstances that may come along. Well over the years we have come close but of cause we do not have an award for coming close. But we cannot be called losers because we offer competition.
This weekend we had the best opportunity to come top but we threw it away. That’s how serious it is to be a supporter of Arsenal.
It involves having faith in yourself even when you do not seem to be going anywhere with that faith but it eventually pays of. It is the appreciation of the fact that other people are better off but you can achieve that level of success if success was your major goal.
I hail Arsene because he intrigues me. He is arrogant but at the same time an achiever. You can yap al you want but I think he has nothing to prove. He has proven it all. He has built a team that has gone unbeaten for 49 games. He has won. He has nurtured talent and most of all, he appreciates that shit happens and he knows that you can’t please them all.

He invests a lot of faith in his boys and they fight with a spirit. Though they are bullied at times by the bigger ones, it’s like he tell them ‘Hey! Do not be like them; do not make it a tit for tat affair. Remain calm and disciplined’! Now that’s greatness to some extent.
All in all, Arsenal is a great club. It might go trophy less for yet another season but that does not rule them out. They fight the good fight. They win as a team. They lose as a team. They believe in themselves and they go for it.
A picture has been going round that ‘Real ladies do not date Arsenal Fans’. Well from the look of things, ‘Real ladies should actually date Arsenal Fans’.
Have a fruitful ‘non-Arsenic’ week ahead.

© Jaqaya

My Insanity

Saturdays used to be my worst days for four consecutive years ending this year. I never figured out why it was so. But something kept telling me it was the school church services I used to attend that later on would amount to so much of my soul searching there ruining my days. I never want to blame it on the Saturday but either way, Saturdays were my Mondays then. To every bad Monday, there is always a Bikozulu blog to cheer it up and to my Saturdays then, there was the Capital Fm Vybe Session of the Soul Inc. Soul Inc was my Bikozulu.
Well I remember this particular day I tuned to Wanjiku Mwaura on studio. It was her poem ‘Imperfection’. I was thrilled. The way she recited it, the power, the life in it was breathe taking (poetically that is). I must have read all her poems; I remember ‘Charles’ and ‘Imperfection’. Then I went on to read more and more of the blogs she was following and I was hooked. On poetry. It flowed in my veins. I was thinking poetry, dreaming and eating poetry. I had my mojo then. I was in form. I loved spoken word. I checked in you tube the video, amazing. I was insane about poetry. And I needed an avenue. Well my desk mate then would share my two shilling poetry and criticize here and there. But all I knew is I had this thing I wanted to nurture. And after a few poems close to fifty, I started a blog. Not serious then though, I posted something. I did not tell anyone about it because then, I was not sure it was such a good idea plus I did not think I could pull numerous posts. Anyway I was barely 18. What did I know about blogging?
I owe my poetry to James Kisiah, an eloquent gentleman. My second to PLO. I loved the way he has his way with English. He has the command of the language and his poetry, is amazing. I was lucky to interact with him in high school, read some of his poems and from then on, penned one or two. Nothing big really, I was just trying.

I have tried to nurture that skill. I think poetry to me is more of a skill than a talent. I have to work on it. When it doesn’t flow I cannot force it. It comes from within. I tried Swahili poetry but that was too complicated for me. The numerous rules couldn’t get my message across. But I am good in Swahili though. In fact I have all through loved Swahili more than English. It is just because expressing myself in English is easier than Swahili.

But over the past few months. I have grown in writing. Poetry no longer houses my thoughts. It cannot possibly give room to what I have in mind and well at times what I want to say disappears in the verses. So prose does it nowadays for me. I have nothing clear that I can say I am working on or would want to achieve with this. All I know is one day I would want to contribute as a columnist and the ultimate would be to get to pen ‘Mantalk’. To tread on the path of great columnists like: Makau Mutua, Yusuf Dawood, ‘Whispers’, Philip Ochieng’, Oyunga Pala, Jackson Biko, Mutahi Ngunyi, Tony Mochama, Carol Mandi , (though I don’t read her articles as often) but to name a few.

That is my dream. Everyone has dreams. And I think I would like to pay the price to make my dream come true. That includes upgrading my English and getting some tips.
All in all, my writing is just a way to rid off a lot of words on my mind. I would run mad if I did not. So technically this is my insanity. My madness!

When I say I am a Christian

The world of belief is a tricky one. Believing in eternity, believing in God, believing in people, believing in yourself among other beliefs that we have (not forgetting witchcraft). We are human and a part of us always want to believe in something. A supreme being or anything. Maybe your friend, parents, role model. Name it. I believe in God. Period. At least He never fails me. That is why I still believe in Him even though its been long since I stepped foot in a church. The last time I attended a service, I remember walking out before the sermon. And I kept asking myself why I attended if I could not wait for the sermon. I guess I just back slid when it comes to the congregation ‘church’ part. But again, I am working on it. I do believe in people at times. Though it is a risk. At least I know I believe in my best friend.
In that working on my spiritual belief, I came across this poem that caught my eye. Even though I seem to have lost that poetic mojo, I can still spot a good poem (even old men who have lost ‘power’ can still spot a beautiful girl). I hope it does something to you. I am not saying change you or make you believe in God this moment, I am saying I hope you will feel something like I did!

When I say I am a Christian

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I’m not shouting, “I am saved.”
I’m whispering “I was lost!
That is why I chose His way.”

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I don’t speak of this with pride
I’m confessing that I stumble
Needing God to be my guide

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I’m not trying to be strong
I’m professing that I am weak
And pray for strength to carry on

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I’m not bragging of success
I’m admitting I have failed
And cannot ever pay the debt

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I don’t think I know it all
I submit to my confusion
Asking humbly to be taught

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I’m not claiming to be perfect
My flaws are too visible
But God believes I’m worth it

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I still feel the sting of pain
I have my share of heartaches
Which is why I seek His name

When I say, “I am a Christian,”
I do not wish to judge
I have no authority
I only know I’m loved


~Carol Wimmer
Chicken for Soup for the Christian Family Soul

To Boddah(ess).

These are words that were probably composed years ago. Time and time again, I have lacked the opportune moment to express them. Words that stem from the root of my being and have lingered in my mind. And in appreciation of my mortality I have to say them. Not that I anticipate my demise, but should anything happen, I wish that you know this.
I am a coward. I have my fears that time and again I have tried to shake off. The fear of the unknown. Fear the uncertainty of time and the future. It is in this line that I have ended up making mistakes and taken steps that have ended up breaking my progress in my grooming to be who i want to be. You must know that sometimes I have done things I did not wish but solely due to the uncertainty of the future.
I am coward to myself. I fear myself that sometimes I do not look at myself to know myself. Because this self is impure, this self is unable and however I try, I have never gotten the courage to sometimes face myself in greater depths. In that moment of a smile or laughter, is a concealed sense of fear. You must have noticed this. I have feared disappointing and to this, I have always strived to be at my best.
Time and again I have fallen short of who I proclaim to be. Outside I have created a facade of a strong person. But within, I have remained to be weak. In temptations, I have often failed to pass the test. I have disgraced myself. Though unnoticed, even by you, I have felt unable in dire moment. Moments that have called me to define myself.
I do not know how you picture me out; neither do I think it is a big deal. In these few years, I have strived not to expect a lot from people. I have let my mind free of people’s opinion and views. I have been branded liberal, radical and a menace in various occasions but I have never let those moments define who I am. True to say, I do hate a lot of things and people. But through, I have learnt to maintain my calm and keep my views to myself. So I do not care to think who I really am to you. But I have never failed to express how much of a person you have been to me. There are moments I have used you to find my bearing. Times I have been lost and used you as my compass to get back on track. You have been a challenge and I have strived to surpass the challenges. In my past few years, I must say there are few people who have lived up to your standards.
You must also know that I am lost. Totally and completely unaware of what the future holds. I have lived trying to find the way but in vain. At times I have thought I have found the way only to sink deeper in my dark pit. I have tried! Trust me I have tried and I'm still trying. At times I have called upon you to help me. Either you have not noticed or you have thought it’s an individual’s effort to locate and find their true purpose in life.
It’s been a life I was thrust into and before long I was alone. The past ten years have been hell in a way. In my own way. I have lived half of those years in a dream. Never wanting to accept the truth in the dawning of my life. And so I have been trying to wake up from my dream. In that pursuit of the light of the day, my life has stopped flowing. Time wise, I am five or ten years behind. That was till I realized this was real. I was real. I was alone. I was Lost!
When you came along, i did not make any effort to try and extract myself from my mess because, well, i thought with time you would pass, many have come and left. but you stayed on. And I have transformed over these years. Though not by much, I have made a step; from worst to worse. I do not know if you have noticed.
I am unambitious at times. I have been misunderstood most of the time. My sarcastic, critical view and not to mention my academic excellence in the past couple of schooling years have been confused with ambition. Deep down, sometimes I cannot tell what I want. That I have tried to hide from you and to the world. And so I have posed as someone else. I have concealed my identity at times. Not because I hate my identity, but because I try to be what I want to be and I am stuck here. When you asked what I want to be in years to come, those responses were genuine but know it is because I strive to be true to you. Had anyone else asked, the answers would have varied from one person to another.
Someone said if I say ‘I have been thinking about you all the time’, then I am lying. But truth be told, it’s been you all along. I have expressed this to you sometimes and you have laughed it off. I guess it was flattering. But it’s the truth. For the past 3 months or so, it’s been all about you day in day out. And this has at times helped me escape my sorrows because in you, I have cherished my thoughts. My nights have ceased being sleepless. My eyes no longer shed tears at the darkest moment because that is not what you would have wished. So I have lived my life to the best in your thoughts. My thoughts have been diverse. From past, present to future. I hope to live up to the good future I think of you in.
I am a better person because of you. I have shed some of my older self because of you. It is something I have hidden and tried not to let you know but it’s high time I think I let you know.
I have been envious of your life. You have always seemed strong, unweathered and always growing stronger. Traits I so admire in you. I have watched moments shared with friends and family and I have always wished the same. But since I am unable to live the same, its has been my challenge to let others live up to thing I have wished I had in my early life
In my cowardice, unambitiousness and untraceable self, I have wished you knew me more. For this is who I really am: My naked self.
I have tried to hide my nakedness from the face of the world for long enough. My art has always been a way to free my mind from this but it has not always worked. I have at times even lost taste in my work itself. Sometimes I find it wanting. At times I have been challenged to improve which I have tried where possible.
If you forget all these, I want you to know that it has been a life changing experience knowing you. Let’s walk the talk.

Peace, love, empathy.

Jaqaya

Randomized Compensation, The People

I lost touch with my last post. I thought it would come out as I wanted but it was to long an issue. So I tried as much to not make it too wordy or else it would have been boring. Precisely: Boring.
Boring is what I have been of late or rather I am. Not that boring that I can make you doze off but something like; a lacking enthusiasm. I know it’s not yet the end of the year yet but my annual report for 2010 records this has being the year I have been such a bore. Look at me. I lost that poetic touch. Poems used to define a day for me back then but now? Nothing! Nothing defines me other than the endless urge to write my mind. More of making good use of the Facebook ‘What’s on your mind’. Thank you Facebook. This (blog) is what is on my mind.
Not that I have been such a fun guy either but small things that define me as a ‘bore-not’ do not exist anymore. Look at my friends. Every time I keep asking. ‘Hey! Did you marry a rich guy n flew away?’ very possible. Girls marry rich guys and have a ‘good life’. We are heading there but will the story be he same? For a guy, I don’t know. Guys can disappear for all sorts of reasons. But wait for them to resurface. There is always a hell of shock waiting. Some flew out of the country and thought by telling many people they will be witch hunted. Well yes witches exist but what year is it again? Or they got employed somewhere and the job is killing them and they do not want to whine about it. So they keep low. Or for whatever reasons. But when a guy goes MIA, sometimes you do not ask.
If you have known me this year, then you have known a slightly different person. My levels of satire and critics have really gone down. Maybe it’s the company. Company defines a person. So I think I will change my company. I need people I satirize and criticize. Oh yeah! (Sounds like the Lucy Kibaki thing). Some guy i know thinks blogging is like Facebook or a social network where you update your status. Very funny people. You do something and they copy you. Kwani are we in class two. Had it not been that I needed a platform for my random thoughts, I would not even be blogging. So you out there! Stop telling us about your sissy stories! Go update status about them in a social network. You are making the whole blogging concept bad! Jeez!
Anyway I still retain my friends nevertheless. Maybe I will run through a few.
Collins: The guy who made fun of me one morning in class and broke his arm within the next 3 hours. (Didn’t I ever warn you that my grandmother is Hatari!.Asiyesikia la mguu huvunjika mkono). Poor guy he did his KCSE in a plaster arm. Hohohoho! Do you still doze off anywhere? This guy practically slept for 3/4 of all the classes he ever attended. But still keeps in touch. The number one critic. Never fails to say ‘aaai msee ii imebore’ then throw in his laughter. By the way you really need to change that style of laughing or the Germans will blow your head off! This guy mocks people. But that is people worth mocking. If it’s good he will say it is good. If not, prepare to be his laughing stock. Trust me this guy doesn’t give a shit! But that’s him.
Olive. Huh! Need I say anything? What a combination of friends I have. More like Collins this one. Can really laugh but that’s if someone is making a fool of themselves. Not forgetting the trademark ‘Seeeemaa’ on the other end of a call. You really should bring it back. Or I should be calling more often. I remember this time I used to call till I could hear the parents complaining. I think at the back of their minds they pictured a an old man old enough to sound alarm and they thought their daughter was getting lost. They must have prayed for you severally like Nyambura in ‘River Between’ I mean who could afford such credit then when Safaricom was Safaricom? If someone could afford long phone calls then, think twice, but positively. Yeah I know Olive I have been not the guy I was but see! Am working on that! Just promise the ‘seema’ will be back and we work a deal.
High school Tin Huts Association: Official members,
Shem Omasire. You guy do you still back out of plans? One sly a person. Wewe! I am not saying he is a bad guy. He is just sly. He thinks after not before. No offense meant.
David Kariuki. The guy who keeps complaining ati I pick on him too often because? Well Kariuki is always my example when I am talking about the guys from Central Kenya.
Derrick Ngechu. My rock godfather. Chizzo man. Si kwa ubaya but I never forget the hibernation period stunts you used to pull. But the sky is the limit au sio? Keep it up Rocker. By the way thanks for the Rock. It has done me more good than harm though I stopped the metal rock. The sarcasm? You are the king of satire and sarcasm chief!
Ex-official members:
Brian Tedley. You just disappeared. The perfect example of those people who just disappear. Good thing I know where you are. So one day I might drop there. So what exactly do you do? Hope you are not the gateman because well, that will be embarrassing. Dr Hart is your latest code name. Even though you claim it is growing up.
G-Man. The bully. Every one will agree this guy is a bully and takes advantage of his height.

Githinji. There is this story that goes round that this guy bought a doll for his chic as a birthday present. I do not know how true that story was but it surely cracked my ribs all along. Arguing on practically everything. Even where you could possibly pick an argument. How he managed to assimilate himself is yet to be known.
Jorge Akello: Chairman Ex Official member. I still insist if you are not a member you need to knock the door. I know you found it rather bureaucratic. Like ‘what does this guy think he is? Arsenal and Lingala fan. Hapo tu!
Mike Mwangi ‘Kabag’. CPA will drive you crazy. But I hope you can multi task CPA and Mike. Those are two different situations. I pray you live long. Do not ask why because I do not know why. When I pray, I pray for you to live long.
And not forgetting the mutual friend Ivy. I remembered her because she once told someone that she is as straight as a gay man’s trouser. Well I did not ask more to that statement.
About all the people who ever stepped foot in the tin huts save for Davi unless you have changed live a different lifestyle. You wouldn’t think we can have a conversation but we do. We still friends though I do not indulge in alcohol. I am not saying alcohol is bad. Just because I do not often doesn’t make it bad. Does it? Plus other thing you smoke. Shem you smoked coffee in 4th. Coffee? Is coffee smoked?
Not forgetting Sophie with the ‘Aki broo’, Linda
So although I have been missing in action, I still have people who once in a while we catch up on a number of things here and there.
And like Moses Wetangula, I did step down but I promise you I will be back in action and step up. Cut the politics. Like McKay, I shall return.
Parting Shot: ‘Say Ahh’ and ‘I Invented Sex’ are two songs that stand out by Trey Songz. Nothing gay about me liking the two songs. Just these two.I insist!

What maketh a man?

P\S: The term ‘man’ shall be used in reference to the human species in general throughout this post unless stated otherwise.

There are many articles out there that talk about the masculinity and femininity of being a man and a woman respectively. In most of the articles, critics have branded the writers as being biased towards one specific gender. The latest I read was a week ago. This one did not talk much about the manhood but was much about the definition of a man. There was this definition that I must say I did find quite hilarious. ‘A man is six inches in the pants and no less.’ I am quoting.
Enough said about being a man and being a woman. But what makes us human? What makes us different from animals? What makes us stand out as the people we are? That is my question. This thought hit me on a Sunday when I was trying to scratch my head and find something to write about. I try to exercise personal discipline when it comes to my blogging. I have not set out clear rules but I promise myself to write something at least once a week and so I had to find something. In the course of my thoughts, it actually struck me that I was practicing self discipline. Of cause nobody questions me for not posting on my blog on a particular week but within, it is something I know I have to do. Personal or self discipline makes us a people. It makes you and me a person. The ability to say No when you think something is not right or controlling yourself in tempting situations is exercising discipline. For some of us who went to schools were discipline was breakfast, lunch and supper, it was instilled into us. The school system is meant to help us be better persons. Learning to tame the beast of your loins, honouring sobriety, keeping your hands to your self when needed are just but basic elements of self discipline. It stretches from making promises to ourselves in terms of New Year Resolutions to keeping and abiding by them. This year alone, I was supposed to have read all of Shakespeare works. I have managed to do half. I guess I have not been that disciplined a person so to say. The last time I read Shakespeare was in May. Time for a change.
A man keeps his\her word. It springs from the virtues of respecting your word and keeping it. It is closely tied with self discipline. You see if you cannot keep promises to yourself then of cause you cannot keep other peoples promises. How many of us borrow and return on time. How many of us say things and implement. How many promise and deliver( if you have ever been in a political system, count yourself out). There is nothing more annoying than following someone who borrowed something from you. It makes you less of a person if you do not keep your word. There is something I call the 'Gentleman’s agreement' where we do not sign a contract but agree by word of mouth. Generally, whoever breaks a gentleman’s agreement whatsoever is nothing but a mess. I do not know the female equivalent but honouring agreements is by far a virtue as personal discipline on itself. If a comrade asks for my pair of shoes and fails to bring them back, I may let it pass but at the back of my head, he has failed the test of his definition of being a man in a way or another.
Dignity is the quality of being worth of respect. If you can carry yourself in a dignified way, then I will certainly respect that. A friend of mine really tries to push for people to be worth of respect. She does not believe that being female makes you less of a person. You got a role to play to earn your respect. Of cause there are countless people out there who in one way or another have involved themselves in degrading acts. Our dear elders in political posts are corrupt, are involved in scandal not worth mentioning. Man is to error. If you can pick yourself from such instances and prove that you are still worth of respect, then you are worth it.
A man knows where his\her lines are and dares not cross them. He\she knows who friends are and who are not. Who the enemy is and who is not. He\she respects the bounds that lay between friendships and relationships. Respects what defines how we relate to each other. Understands one another. Anything that leads to crossing the line degrades and humiliates. There are instances of relationships (and by this I mean even family bonds) broken and friendships lost because of crossing the lines.
Being a man and a person is more than just being called by name. It involves acting and carrying yourself in a manner that is defined by an individual but conforms to stipulated norms and regulation. What makes me Mokaya is not the same thing that makes you John or Alice or Bridget. We are defined differently but we must all fall by the bar which is set or we have set ourselves. It is high time we exercise self discipline, respect and all other virtues that differentiate us from two legged creatures with less brains or a tail.

IF POEM
....If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:...

DESIDERATA
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.....

In Music.

Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion in ‘Time to Say Goodbye’. Andrea is a great vocalist actually GREAT. He sings those kinds of songs you hear in music theaters by great composers like Handel and unfortunately too, in Mexican soaps. (That is by far the only thing I love about the Mexican soaps; the soundtracks).

Can you believe the guy is blind? Of cause that is not surprising considering we do not sing using our eyes but credit to him. Celine Dion on the other hand, I gather, is also a great vocalist who sings blues. I do not do blues but I know the artistes. More of a general knowledge thing. I know the likes of Whitney Houston. In primary school, we dubbed some guy Whitney because of his love for Whitney Houston (It’s been long is she still alive?). A high school friend of mine used to know Celine Dion’s songs by heart. I know she has a song titled ‘The Power of Love’. I doubt whether I have listened to it though. Plus another friend had this Celine song as his Skiza Tune. Weird! Very weird of a guy but you never know. They say such are love stoned. It breaks all rules for a man to listen to Celine, Whitney, Back street boys, Westlife. I mean why listen to such yet the choices are endless

My love for music starts in high school. In lower classes I was not the guy to find singing. In fact I used to hate the music guys in school then. They used to have this attitude of being the ‘elite’ few since they used to sing during parade, attend the festivals and all that crap. They possessed this unique ‘swagg’. Then I used to hate a lot of things and people. I used to hate poetry. It never made sense to me and the older guys misused it to woo girls. I guess I did not fit in the surrounding of kids. But that was to change. Having chosen music as a subject of study in high school and subsequent forced induction into the school choir plus the school band there the love blossomed. We just fell in love. The classical music just blended in. Strange enough, I also did rock. People say the two do not go along. With that music, I have gone places. State House at one point in time because close to a hanging joint. If you asked me then where you could get me during my weekends, ‘Hanging out with Obako (the old man @ State House’) would have been my response. I still want to go places with music.
The person I am today is shaped by the music. Sometimes I think I would have been a completely different person had music not found me. ‘Oh! Music without you I was lost.’ Without you my heart would have stopped beating.
I love Alicia Key’s music. Not so much because of the content, but because she can make me close my eyes when I listen her. She has this ability to transport and transpose me to this virtual world and I love that. Think ‘Unthinkable’. Such a song! What I could do to watch Alicia perform! I mean she has the vocals and the quality of her music! God! Not mentioning the beauty. Alicia Keys sings and sings and sings and I sail away! Andrea sings with his rich vocals and I am lost in my fantasy world.More of some place unexplored. If you have never closed your eyes while listening to music, then I think you are lost. You either do not have taste for music or you listen to the wrong music. (Read Soulja Boy and company). At least my pal would close his eyes and enjoy moments with Celine though again it is wrong to do Celine. Or try ‘The Script’ but whichever the music, I believe if you are into it, you can sail with it.
I had an opportunity to listen to SSQ the other day during the Safaricom Classical Fusion.

Those guys are awesome. Damn! They stole the show from all the other performers save for the great soprano Rhoda Ondeng'. Even the kawa Wainaina with his ‘Daima Kenya’ could not compete. I wonder why Wainaina is so hyped anyway. Then of cause there was the dancing. Music and dance is incompatible. Though I am sure my definition of dance will somewhat differ with yours or be same. Complica0ted body moves do not necessarily make my simple moves nothing. On the contrary, I think I enjoy the music better when I do not concentrate much on the precise steps. That is why Daudi Kabaka’s Twists still rock. I hear my grandmother used to twist like no man’s business. That old lady. Huh! Then she got skills. I think age and labour has stolen the energy from her. Imagine at close to 80 years she still hits the shamba. How hardworking!
I can sing. I am quite good. My tenor was good those days I used to sing in my school choir. I was among the best till my pride drove me away. Actually got me sent away. I was like Lucifer! Good enough to think you are indispensable till another guy showed me otherwise. But anyway they lost massively without my company which makes me great. Not many believe I can sing but try me. I got taste and quality. My desk mate was a usual complainer of my singing. He used to say I was obsessed. Maybe I am.
Music takes people places. Music heals. Music bonds. Music joins two to one. Music turns and changes things. Music makes me fall for it (not anyone, anything or everyone can). Music makes bad people become legends. Think M.J. I still love his music though he turned white and psycho. Music woos. Show me any guy who sings and does not have girls flying all over him. It is all in music.
So choose your taste wisely. Enjoy your music. If you can close your eyes and savor that moment with the artiste, ‘then you will be a man my son’ (or something to that effect). 


“The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. The motions of his spirit are dull as night, and his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.”
~Shakespeare~

Randomised

Can we pretend that airplanes In the night sky Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)……
I have at times sat listened to this song over and over again. I am that type of person whose taste in music never expires. Which is why I still enjoy tracks by Luther Vandross, Andrei Bocelli, Alicia Keys and my now favorite, The Script. I simply love music, I love singing but that is not what I am about to talk about.
Over the recent past I have had several wishes, some of which, due to circumstances have been achieved yet some still remain, Wishes! I have ever wished I was older. Like above 25 because then I believed being old was the thing. The best thing that could happen to anyone. I mean the freedom that one has and the choice to do what one wishes just made me wish I was an older person. I had the brains but not the age.
Sometimes I have wished I could take opportunities the way they come without a lot of questioning. You see, I am a very curious person and like knowing details to the finest. I do ask a lot of questions which sometimes leads to my opportunities to just go away. I wish I could have questioned less and take the chances.
I wish I could write a love poem. Yes a love poem! It’s something everyone else can do. You do not need poetic skills to write down a love poem. Love poetry was my first stage in writing of poems. I did countless love poems here and there. Unfortunately, at one time I decided to change my taste and with that, I burnt my entire close to 60 love poems. So you ask why I would want to do that again. I am a slave of myself. There are some things I cannot do. I do not know why but love poetry is something I wish I could do but I cannot. I try a few lines, crumble the papers and throw them into the bin. I think it has to do with being too much of a ‘seriously? Me? Love poems?’ I am working on that wish maybe one day I will drop a hot one. Watch this space!

PHOBIA

Phobia
I have a phobia for business. A field I have always wished women were the sole people involved. If you have been conned or tricked into buying something that was of no benefit to you later, then you know what I am talking about. Women are people I believe have a heart and rarely involve themselves in dishonest practices but the exception proves the rule. Women are better placed people in the society. Sometimes I wish women controlled and were involved in daily running of businesses. Women are good people. They do not pee by the road side, do not get drunk and sleep on the trenches, do not con people, do not impregnate and deny, do not run in the streets rioting every time.
Nairobi is a weird city. Businesses are run everywhere. Businesses in the stalls are my greatest phobia. There is always the ‘Njeri’ girl in that stall selling Chinese cell phone models. The girl who has a killer smile and makes you hang around the stalls checking out Chinese phones though you have no interest in china phones. And next comes this guy with a classic phone who wants to sell it to you at a throw away price. Sooner or later you discover he sold you mud in the name of a phone. I have witnessed such. Sorry to the victims. This is Nairobi. In the next stall is Kariuki, the guy who will charge you exorbitantly for repairing a broken wire in your phone and trick you that the IC or the cable was spilt so he had to fix his. I have a phobia for businessmen. Can a woman stand up and take charge. Can we see the proper representation in these fields?
The other weekend I was in kikuyu making my third appearance in four years. This is one place I like avoiding like any other place in Central Kenya. I have nothing against Central but with all the Kariukis and Kamaus around, I always feel insecure around. I mean you do not know the guy who will turn up next and what money-minded idea he will come along with. Even with bus fare, I usually find myself conned. The guy packing the bus asks for twice the fare which you end up paying only to realize your seatmate is paying half the amount. You cannot ask for the balance because you boarded the bus on an agreement with the guy packing. The vice versa is also true where you are charged twice the bus fare instead of the amount you agreed with the guy packing. I wonder why the guy packing the bus is not the tout. Is this another strategy to squeeze more from my pocket? I have a phobia for traveling towards Central Kenya. But of cause the girls in central dilute the overall effect. The girls in Central are beautiful. Exception proves the rule.
Kikuyu is a good town on its own. The air is fresh, the climate is cool the weather is okay. I think just like my place back in Kisii, it is a good town. The only problem I had is language barrier. Everyone around was talking in kikuyu. I thought it is a town. Kiswahili would do but how wrong could I be. When I just thought Kenya was heading somewhere.
Anyway I was in kikuyu on business and at least that saved me the trouble with dealing with people assuming I am kikuyu. Do I even look kikuyu? C’mon guys!
I was in the company of many parents and students. A lot of love was in the air. People were hugging and kissing, of cause mothers and daughters. Such are unheard of in male company. It was a good sight should I say. Inspiration talks here and there. If you do not yet know, the season of exams is with us. For a moment I pitied those kids. The Kenyan system of education is hell! A four year course compressed in two hours or so. Not easy and will never be but at least I gather they have general science for those who have a phobia for sciences and alternatives for mathematics for those with nerves of steel and those without. I think sometimes this world is so unfair. Why should these things come after I left? Just like maziwa ya Nyayo disappeared when I joined primary school. I think if Kibaki would have brought back milk to schools inclusive of secondary schools, he would have left a better legacy. Leave the politics of the new constitution legacy. That does not benefit me as an individual. A woman should step up for presidency and bring back milk to schools. But if she is from central Kenya, then she will have to go through Uhuru Kenyatta.
Success to all candidates. Mtapita!

VAMPIRE DIARIES

Sometime ago, I could not publicly declare that I am a ardent follower of the series. Vampire Diaries. That was till I found some friends of mine watching the infamous Afro Sinema. Not that watching Afro sinema is wrong but come on! This are guys I did not expect to do this. Especially because the storyline and plots of such movies are so shallow and full of crap. So when I found them watching 'True Love' or is it 'Notorious Passion' whichever, I felt utterly betrayed. Betrayed because I know soon they will be watching Mexican soaps and defend their right to watching these programs. How degrading. Edwin? What have we turned ourselves into?
I have been following this series since it premiered some time last year. It is one program I can mention more than three characters without having to scratch my head. It is not so much of the vampire story that captivates me but the theme of love that draws itself clear to me every time I watch it. It is not of me to write about this but here I am. Collins you may bite me.
Let me try to elucidate on this theme. One character, Elena Gilberts is in love with Stephan Salvatore. Stephan is a vampire, a century and a half years old while Elena is a school girl maybe 17 or 18. She is aware that the guy is a vampire and the guy is aware of the risks in dating this girl but this does not deter them from making out.
It is a case where many people will say the girl is wasting herself. I mean save for the risk of Stephan ripping her jugular anytime, she also has to bear with the naked truth that if there relationship is to continue, she will age while Stephan will still be the smoking guys with the same charming looks. It a case that not many can understand. It is what myself I would call true unconditional love.
In its second season running and episodes airing every week, there is always a new twist to the love story. It is a story that sometimes leaves me thinking about people in the real world. Would we make these sacrifices just to enjoy the moments we have even if the future looks bleak? This is Kenya where Oyunga Pala and company have driven into my head that majority of women and girls are after money not the love nor the passion. Is it possible that we in these current situations would love someone regardless of their condition or situation? Is it possible that we respect other people the way they are and not try to change them? For the program, Stephan would have easily turned Elena into a Vampire and the two to live happily ever but it is not so. Their love springs from their difference in being and the full understanding of the commitment each has put to ensure their relationship works. Even with the constant bugging Damon, who always feels cheated and getting a raw deal from Stephan, the jealous Ex Katherine, Elena puts through it all. It is a story of true love, endurance, true sacrifice and unconditional love. It is true that true love is not just a feeling but a commitment. I am still researching hoping that such characters not only exist in books and movies but do walk in the streets and live amongst us.
Maybe it’s just me but for close to a year now that I have been following this series, my eyes have been opened to a wider spectrum of this world when it comes to commitment and loving someone. It is a challenge I have taken and accepted to act like I have felt from this program.
Ps: Sorry if you found this too sentimental or mushy in a way but also hope that my point is across.

‘The Guy In front of you is always a Kikuyu’.

NB: Before I am misunderstood nad accused of being tribal and summoned to the TRJC, let me clarify that this post is not tribal by any chance. I have nothing against my Mt. Kenya fellows. In fact they make a good portion of my friends (to some limit i.e. where funds are not involved). So please do not feel offended by my title.
I usually wonder why many people on the first encounter always jump to the quick conclusion that I am from the lakeside. I mean am not that dark -skinned or have the heavy accent or went to the Rachuonyo School of English hence my vocabulary is updated with the latest Oxford Edition. I might be arrogant but not proud. I am a simple person, simple English, fair skin colour. Not that I hate the guys from the lakeside, as a matter of fact, I spent 15 boyhood years there. So I totally know and understand being a lakesider.
My post is inspired by the latest Oparanya statistics, dubbed the ‘Kenyan Census’. Which I together with my other countless male compatriots would be quick to dismiss as false, but only when the figures of male and female are concerned. I mean the ratio of man to woman can never be 1:1.Never. Just how does that happen? What is the government trying to send to us after apparently their AIDS campaign on faithfulness has failed? I guess those Oparanya statistics are just meant to spell doom to me and others to embrace monogamy as chances of being polygamous are limited. Anyway as for me and countless others, the ratio of 1:3 still stands. So hey! Don’t start feeling sweet thinking the statistics will change a thing.
I’m triggered to write this because I just walked into a stall to buy some airtime and the first notice I see on the wall is, ‘Stop! Do you know your blood group…’ am thinking maybe this is serious. Maybe there is some epidemic that requires blood transfusion like Ebola so I must know my blood group least it strikes. And it goes, ‘..Your blood group?, 100/=..’I walk out and check the name of the stall. ‘Kariuki Communications Ltd’, and it hits me. 100/= to Kariuki. This guy must be a genius. He nearly got me there. I mean 100/= when I can donate blood and know my group. Not only will I have helped a soul but also benefited.
Kikuyus make 6 million Kenyans. Close to a sixth of the population. So when I remembered my high school observation where ‘The guy in front of you was always a Kikuyu’, I was not shocked. Be it in class, on the field or on the road, which is always true. Mark you I was not in some school in Karatina. I was in a national school. I just wonder if 6 million is the true figure. Just check and prove me wrong.

11.16 pm - 11.26.pm

11.16 pm. Just ran out of movies and series to watch and I’m too far from tao where I usually get a DVD for 50 bob. the people around demand 100 bob which i find too exhorbitant a price. I love Nairobi. So I try the TV but this is not helping either. Mexican soaps and televangelists are not my favorite and not even CNN. Not that I have anything against religion or the word of God but those preaching never amuse me. Especially when I know in the end, the preacher is going to flash some mobile number on the screen soliciting for money through M-Pesa. I love Kenya. That reminds me of one Pius Muiru, the preacher who used to pray for people depending on the money you paid for prayers. I mean, WTH!! Ati you buy anointing oil.
So then I try the radio hoping to get some soothing music that will get me to sleep. By default I am tuned to my rock station X fm but today, rock isn’t just the music I want to listen to. I am not in the right mood for rock especially today that I slept between 4 & 8pm. I was very idle. So don’t blame. So I try tuning to other stations but here I bump into funny late night presenters discussing very weird subject matters. This reminds me of high school boarding where the guy who owned a radio in the cube would be listening to such idle talks about relationships. Worse still, among married people and the language in use was very inappropriate. I thought such were for 20 year old people with the weekly Dr Love and Dr Hart. Shock unto me when I listened, only to hear about old women lamenting about their husbands’ lack of stamina and God-knows-wat-else. I’m still trying to find a suitable station because otherwise today will be as sleepless as this other past days. Seems sleepless nights are not for the married-with-kids only. I have nothing against marriage!
Aha! finally I settle to Kiss FM though after 30 min I’m sure I will have mustered the recurring play list but its worth it anyway. Easy FM would have been another alternative but am so sure the topic of discussion there is X-rated plus the mushy music. NO! Not now. Not today, not ever!
I check my screen and there, R. Kelly’s ‘u saved me’ n I am thinking, Kiss might just save my sleepless night with their constant music with no presenters interrupting.
Now I got to hit the sheets and admire the ceiling. Its 11.26pm. Wah! Kutakucha kweli!

May be i need crias bloggin

Kumbe having a blog was not going to be that easy.Now i need to update my blog like occasionally and do other stuff other than poetry. Soon am goin to be an active blogger cz now i know blogging is fun.

A LETTER TO A BATTLING CONSCIENCE.

No greetings for its war and constant battles,
No peace deal yet to consent
But are we ending this war
Like I thought you would I free?
Make me responsible
For my thoughts
Actions
Feelings
Cease making me dependent on you
But still you own
Control
Dictate
Who I am,
What I do
What I think
What I feel?
Like a toddler
Are we parting soon?

A little freedom
A little guilt-free recklessness
A little naughtiness allowed
Must you haunt for actions unapproved committed
Make me think once, twice, thrice,
Countless times before I venture
Do I need to thee consult?
Before I step and act?
Am I ever free?
To dictate my actions
Do you have to imprison me?
In this empty soul of mine
Controlling and conforming me to your ways
Making me Human?
Look at them (Human)
Broken because of their actions
Careless feigning affection
Hiding under emotions
Destroyed yet playing perfect.
Do I?
Do you?
Want me to live in that hopelessness?
Constant sorrow
Void
Of guiltiness and always desperate?
Could you for a moment pause
Think
And grant me what I utmost desire.
My freedom

Like they do not care
Walking with big egos
Pride
Am I supposed to conform?
Are you biding me to that?
And to say the least it sucks
Can we strike a deal?
Because I,
I need you to free my thoughts
I need you to stop battling my mind
I need you to stop assuming control over me
And let me be.
Careless, reckless, ruthless,
Make mistakes and from them learn
That is my freedom
So I need my freedom

Yours,
Mind.

UP TO NO FAME

And I forward step and lay my claim
That I pen not for fame
I do not write for my name
On billboards and lists for poets to prize claim
That I need not please
That my work needs not send u shouting ‘Jeez!!’
That I do not need my work to get u on ua knees
Cz I do not ryt to get u 2 my bed
And u shamelessly lay u claim it sounds dead?
But I do not ryt by u 2 get fed
Because I can earn my daily bread
Don’t claim this aint up to grade
Cz I don’t need on poets list to parade
I can stand n am not afraid.



But y I ryt?
To inspire
To light and ignite the fire
To get it off\
4 home feeling when foreign
To ease the pain
To fuse the main
To kill the migraine
Not 2 earn ua wicked smile
Neither do I for ua faked feigned appreciation
I do not ryt to get your word for it
Because am up to no game
On billboards for top prize claim
And I need not bargain
Because am up to no fame



To warn before u stand to criticize
Before you stand n down play
That this is down the drain
That it sounds like a Sunday school hymn refrain
Please note I ryt with my paper and ink
Use my brain to think
For I do not pen to get ua heart to sink
For this is my style
Flows like the Nile
Go get a brain-check if sounds too Greek
Next tym pause before you blurb like a kid
Because I do not ryt for a big name
I do not pen for poets top prize claim
For my work, I’m up to no fame.


Dedicated to all ma haters..mnajijua