Saturday 25 July 2015

Song of the Broken Ridges

I
Once you were a man
Upon swallowing jeers, scorns and curses
To face the knife, sunrise to sunset
What ate your manhood then?

You have colonised drinking dens
Wherein like fish you drink
Lose way home and in ditches sleep
Whilst cold and hunger wrestle mulamwa down
Whilst children's heads swell with vices...

At daybreak you return
Once men have ploughed and sowed
Tattered, then snore off
Whilst cold and hunger weigh mulamwa down
Oh, bakoki, once you're a man
What ate your manhood?

Whereto did your stamina disappear?
That allure that most often
incited girls to lose way home
from the stream, posho mill or forest
To find themselves in your bed.
That allure that most often
incited girls to tear each other
for the feel of your magic wand!

II
You have become desert rain
Showing up not at men's joints...
What in the kitchen keeps you,
When cocks are out searching?
Why cook and wash
Whilst mulamwa idly sits
Duracoating her lips and nails?

Gossiping with women about others
Whilst into their skirts you peer
And they bend over you-- their breasts precariously dangling
Has ruined your manhood!

III
The ridges mourn virginity
Stolen from their unripe damsels.

But what pleasure lies
In eating a girl
who can't even wipe her buttocks clean
after defeacation?

What do you whisper in her ears
Too innocent to stomach adult wisdom;
But exciting childish nonsense?
When you nipple at her pimple-sized breasts
And marshalling your cargo into her narrow opening...

What do you whisper in her ears
When she cries of paisure
As thorns on your chest
eat into her tender flesh
yet to grow beautiful mounds
to nourish generations to come...

IV
Wele has given us women--
Saints, witches, devils and angels--
Many like sand, scattered all over Earth
Can't they quench your chronic thirst?
Why don't you nominate one to be a wife
or drag her to bed-- the bigheaded one
And hide behind fat notes later.

If you have a forked tongue
or suffer from ugliness;
Just straighten the cube of soil
Ancestors bequeathed you
As it has been since independence
Irrigating your ever dry throat
Women will after you run
Like misfortunes following a poor man!

Let the bull eat the cow
and the cock the hen!

Who, in our line, ever took
a cow to bed, starving a woman somewhere?
Who, in our line, ever took
a fellow man to bed, starving a woman somewhere?
How do they taste?

Oh, let women have their rights!

V
Some dogs invade your homestead
Bark, your bitches fuck, and shit
On your threshold.
Whilst inside you're mum-- fear's captive
What ate your manhood?

The owner of the homestead
Coughs, even a dry cough
To announce his presence
at all times
before God or Satan!


(c) wafula p'khisa

Song for the Silent One

[In memory of Aloo Margaret Wambayi]

No thing will ever be same
After your untimely departure from this home
This home that has known no tears
This home that boasts of endless happiness
We have been hit at the most inappropriate point
And the pain eating us we can't stand.


Who will answer our endless questions
Now that you're gone
Who will urge these knowledge seekers
to hold onto what we say
Now that you're gone
Who shall swallow our knowledge
with real appetite
Now that you're gone
Oh, girl, you hurt us!

You see your classmates at the back?
They refuse to eat in your absence
You see your schoolmates in shock?
They refuse to stop crying for you
And we can't console them
We too are broken, damn weak and puzzled
We refuse to accept you're gone
And will never serve you with knowledge again
Oh, girl, you hurt us!

We can't escort you
across the land we can't set a footing;
We can't escort you
yet we cry for you still
But, our beloved, only we pray
That across you journey in peace
Till our train comes
We sure shall meet again!

R. I. P, beloved one of St. Monica's Family.

Lovebound


(... for Stacy Cherotich)

Sitting ashore, across
In the glaring eyes of the world
I watch you coming, forever coming;
Straying from the flock shepherded across
Thirsty for waters of life...

The lively look on your face
The slow sway of your curved assets
All over tingles me!
I wanna hold and kiss you
I wanna tickle and tease you
Beloved of my mother, peel you bare
So I feel your tender breasts unbroken.

BUT...

The oath I took
in debt holds me
The oath I took
keeps us closely far apart--
You in tender world of innocence;
I in landlocked hell presumed stone-aged!

BUT...

Ages may pass without word between us
Distances may grow, and mountains stiff stand
To bar engagements of us
But, don't our heartbeats echo
the song our blood sings when we touch
every new dawn and early sunset?

I fix my eyes onto your pearls
When a lucky star falls; and into my presence you sneak
To read the unspeakable, thereon imprinted.
I caress your palm, with unwavering enthusiasm
Igniting our blood to race...

Beloved of my mother, I understand your tremors,
chronic hunger and nightmares
I hear your song, in my dreams to it I dance
Till my clothes fall off
Whilst clinging onto you, hard pressed on my left breast...
But until ashore your ship anchors soon
So into my open arms you run--
Fearing not the glaring eyes of the world
Our hunger won't be assuaged.


(c) wafula p'khisa

Unfinished Men

We choke under cover of darkness
Whilst others laugh in full glare of the sun
We sprung to chase our dreams
But woes of the sun hold us in captivity still
Who on Earth did we kill
to be punished this hard?
Who on Earth bewitched us
that has refused to die?

Were we really fashioned from clay or sand?
Methinks we're moulded at twilight
When God was damn weary
So into Eden we're dumped--incomplete
to find bearing
remake and unmake our varied forms
thus befit Earth's dictates
and other men's view of us...

We are milked of our souls
And alligned on extreme corners of the world
to eat our bakheba or air
And tall walls are erected
To imprison us in free world of nothingness
But we need one another!
They buy our votes
and milk our sweat;
We will dig their graves
and shave their heads.

In season of tears
they too cry...

But why do the rich compete
to shed tears
with the poor?
A poor man's tears are bitter
Are the rich man's sweeter?
The poor cry of inadequacy
What on Earth renders
a rich man's eyes red, wet and swollen?

*
My old man starved
when the owner of his yam shortened his hand
He survived on crumbs
off the high table
awaited by hungry hounds...

Then Whitman arrived with his magic
that fed the brain with wonders
Children-- presumed owners of future--
Like sheep were piled together...
My father threw away our ancestral treasure
and secured a place in the house of magic:
So I could gather my share
and carry home to nourish my clan

I wasted myself
Rummaging through men's heads--
That are famed for founding prescriptions
they couldn't partake!

I wasted myself
Blistering my tender buttocks
on cold metals
that seat third-rate scholars
in rusty University halls
that leak like a basket full of water!
I appealed to my impatient patience
To endure savouring boring lectures
From odd-looking dons--
Reading yellowed fossils
word by word
comma and fullstop!

Now the market at me stares coldly
With my sack of papers
Who needs my brains?
I'd be swinging in the ministry's chair today
Had that pig looked not at my name and sorry pockets
Akasa warmed his bed with cheap perfume
Got what she wanted, and had herself robbed...

Nothing but a solid meal
Can convince a rioting stomach to cool
But where can the landless harvest?
Where can job seekers get bread
Whilst on their neck is a beast
taxing them mercilessly...

*
mother abandoned her infants
to pamper another woman's brats
then the boss raped her one night;
his beautiful wife starved him
with unending chores overtime...
He rendered father wifeless
and his wife's vineyard a playground for boys.

Before sunset, my sister nearly went into a grave
Some creature accused her
of being very dark
like a moonless night
She threw away her precious beauty
And scavenged for a plastic cloak
She had breasts and buttocks anew curved--
Making men hover around her
like flies on shit!

She will die rich.

(c) wafula p'khisa