We tiptoed, under surveillance, long enough
To satisfy the throbbing of our hearts, and vision-hungry eyes
And hide from eyes that itched with malice upon sighting us
But most often we by-passed each other
As we feared eyes prying in the thicket
But most often we by-passed each other
Seeking to accomplish our prime missions
And succumbed to the fire burning in us.
This expansive road now kisses its dead end
Afterwhich a myriad of narrow paths sprout
We shall take one to safely convey us home;
We shall stab not toes onto stones
nor confine ourselves miles from each other
for the sake of eyes prying in the thicket
No. For us, the road is safer!
We can snail our pace, and let the sun set with its woes
To welcome the elegant moon, with songs of romance
Kiss passionately, as the stars cheer us
We can sit by the roadside and re-tell
Tales of Hunger we whispered
Then I'll carry you on my back, and stagger home
For us, the road is safer.
We can now fall into each other's arms and swing to glory
We can sing our names in tongues we know best
We can have each other from dawn to dusk
For today, my love
The road, for us, is safer!
Friday, 6 November 2015
Leaving Our House Burn to Chase a Rat
The weatherman promised El Nino will come
He swore he'd envisioned it carry misery
So we let grand projects peacefully rest
And braced ourselves to welcome this evil guest
By budgeting much for healing the house of damage
Whilst its dependants to the ground sag.
Teachers had been out
chorusing their usual hymn--'solidarity forever'.
Decrying their inability to reach the ceiling
of rising economy
Whilst learners had been left experiment with condoms and drugs
To blow off the academic headache and cut thirst
As KNUT and KUPPET swear at the government
Crying that there's surely no dime for them
When something is there to satisfy greed!
The human mechanics sang the same song
and were nearly declared jobless!
They returned to the garages
to find their tools of trade missing
and helplessly watched clients drift into the past...
The government has conspired
with coffin makers and grave diggers
to soil feed us
and prey on our possessions!
We cry of terror looming
When foes threaten to strike
But our uniformed men ignore as mere childish games.
They loan arms to thugs, to steal in the neighbourhood
And retire to town for festivities;
Leaving the steel guards of our privacy unmanned
For Satan's angels to sneak in
And harvest our souls.
Who said our hunger-stricken children
seated on stones under trees
rain-beaten and sun-scorched
smile at the feeling of owning a scientific genius
which can't quieten their rumbling stomachs?
You need not burden us with luxury
whilst we're sagging under weight of basic inadequacies
Those on the pavement dream not of a concoction of diets
Till they secure surety of a meal regular.
An ogre seeks refuge under our roof
To evade the hunter's wrath
It had eaten his wealth and wife
But we refuse to let it pay for it's sins
Because it has our tribal marks--
If it's skinned, we are finished
But doesn't the fool who hides the ogre from angry mob
cry for help when the beast turns against him?
There aren't Samaritans in sight to come to his rescue!
El Nino will come, if the weatherman's tools didn't lie
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents
A fortune has been allocated for its unforeseen damage
But no dime's there to wipe woes whirling us to infinite obscurity
We'll not bathe with the Jubilee soap
If our stomachs are dirty
El Nino will come, and find us already weak in the knees
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents.
Then storms shall cool
to usher in another season of sowing;
Our prodigals shall return, their tongues sugar-coated
For a fresh bargain of our lives
We'll tear each other over their minute offers,
We'll fall for their follies: that you can't disown a kinsman for a wrong done.
We'll besiege the streets, singing their anthems till our voices grow hoarse
And sign our death sentence again
the morning we'll cast our seeds in thorns,
on rocks or along footpaths!
(c) wafula p'khisa
He swore he'd envisioned it carry misery
So we let grand projects peacefully rest
And braced ourselves to welcome this evil guest
By budgeting much for healing the house of damage
Whilst its dependants to the ground sag.
Teachers had been out
chorusing their usual hymn--'solidarity forever'.
Decrying their inability to reach the ceiling
of rising economy
Whilst learners had been left experiment with condoms and drugs
To blow off the academic headache and cut thirst
As KNUT and KUPPET swear at the government
Crying that there's surely no dime for them
When something is there to satisfy greed!
The human mechanics sang the same song
and were nearly declared jobless!
They returned to the garages
to find their tools of trade missing
and helplessly watched clients drift into the past...
The government has conspired
with coffin makers and grave diggers
to soil feed us
and prey on our possessions!
We cry of terror looming
When foes threaten to strike
But our uniformed men ignore as mere childish games.
They loan arms to thugs, to steal in the neighbourhood
And retire to town for festivities;
Leaving the steel guards of our privacy unmanned
For Satan's angels to sneak in
And harvest our souls.
Who said our hunger-stricken children
seated on stones under trees
rain-beaten and sun-scorched
smile at the feeling of owning a scientific genius
which can't quieten their rumbling stomachs?
You need not burden us with luxury
whilst we're sagging under weight of basic inadequacies
Those on the pavement dream not of a concoction of diets
Till they secure surety of a meal regular.
An ogre seeks refuge under our roof
To evade the hunter's wrath
It had eaten his wealth and wife
But we refuse to let it pay for it's sins
Because it has our tribal marks--
If it's skinned, we are finished
But doesn't the fool who hides the ogre from angry mob
cry for help when the beast turns against him?
There aren't Samaritans in sight to come to his rescue!
El Nino will come, if the weatherman's tools didn't lie
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents
A fortune has been allocated for its unforeseen damage
But no dime's there to wipe woes whirling us to infinite obscurity
We'll not bathe with the Jubilee soap
If our stomachs are dirty
El Nino will come, and find us already weak in the knees
And we'll be away carried by angry torrents.
Then storms shall cool
to usher in another season of sowing;
Our prodigals shall return, their tongues sugar-coated
For a fresh bargain of our lives
We'll tear each other over their minute offers,
We'll fall for their follies: that you can't disown a kinsman for a wrong done.
We'll besiege the streets, singing their anthems till our voices grow hoarse
And sign our death sentence again
the morning we'll cast our seeds in thorns,
on rocks or along footpaths!
(c) wafula p'khisa
Tuesday, 27 October 2015
Song of My Folks
When you are ripe enough, sonMy father said;
Find a woman for yourself
You can buy her with what you earn
or just elope with one--
If her folks threaten to deny themselves pleasure of being our in-laws!
Nobody in our line ever died a bachelor
Neither are our tongues peppery
for the liking of women!
It's only Wabomba-- your mother's grand-uncle
who reached diable age
with sperms fermenting!
Fast a woman was found
and, literally, he was thrust into her
before going to his ancestors.
We don't immortalize him in our children
for his is a name nothing is expected
(though he was a legendary rat killer!)
Forego all there is to find her;
A wife out-values a piece of land
And he who finds one, the Good Book opines, has found a good thing;
He can dine and wine with men.
But, son, marry not in the neighbourhood
You may marry your sister
Export our genes across the ocean, or deep in the heart of the Great Rift Valley
Children born of such worlds are notorious geniuses
A man who journeys afar for a wife
is much honoured
than a fool who impregnates a twilight girl in the street
and baptizes her his wife.
He opens his people to worlds outside
and brings more friends.
Beware, son
of the nudging scent of passing roses.
Waste not yourself injecting water into them
We can't afford to have our flesh and blood raised
on a soil unknown
For seeds sown along the path see not maturity.
Get not a woman, but a wife--
She who'll come running when you call
She who'll respect us all, with our ways archaic.
She whom, together, you can go on a journey in daylight
without fear of harassment by the KWS
Serve her well, not to cry of hunger--
It's snatching men wives!
A man who lazes around fattening like a pig
Do nothing for his people.
Sire children to fill the earth empty!
A man is survived by children
Not the wealth he has robbed men--
It's fast consumed by kins, once he's fed to the soil!
It's through children that one's name for eternity lives
Even after fate has wiped him off Earth.
Marry; mother sings
Not a woman whose age rivals mine
Which lies hidden in her knees-- hard like a cow’s hoof!
She hides behind paints of irritating powders and perfumes
and squeezes herself into micro-garments
to evade aging
(and forever remain young!)
Digging in thighs of such a woman
Son, is worse enough to earn you a curse
Her well is a reservoir of acids toxic
That will eat your manhood away
Oh, you'll never sire!
Fall not for an Elephant;
A fool who hunts one and carries it home may collapse under its weight!
Bring us a girl with angelic allure
and a fine brain, wired to disambiguate life's ambiguities...
A woman with skinniest legs
is not good for a wife
She won't bent, hold a hoe and dig;
She won't carry water from the well
She will forever sit, glued to TV
or duracoating her lips and nails
As hunger eats you with relish!
But isn’t a home praised because of a woman?
Sleeping hungry is bad, really bad.
Do not marry a woman
with a chest as flat as wood
or breasts as tiny as pimples--
She will starve your children to death!
Get a tree that can bear fruits
and keep you in good health
not a flower to attract evil eyes
for, in times of hunger, a man
can’t eat the buttocks of a woman bootyful!
© wafula p’khisa
Find a woman for yourself
You can buy her with what you earn
or just elope with one--
If her folks threaten to deny themselves pleasure of being our in-laws!
Nobody in our line ever died a bachelor
Neither are our tongues peppery
for the liking of women!
It's only Wabomba-- your mother's grand-uncle
who reached diable age
with sperms fermenting!
Fast a woman was found
and, literally, he was thrust into her
before going to his ancestors.
We don't immortalize him in our children
for his is a name nothing is expected
(though he was a legendary rat killer!)
Forego all there is to find her;
A wife out-values a piece of land
And he who finds one, the Good Book opines, has found a good thing;
He can dine and wine with men.
But, son, marry not in the neighbourhood
You may marry your sister
Export our genes across the ocean, or deep in the heart of the Great Rift Valley
Children born of such worlds are notorious geniuses
A man who journeys afar for a wife
is much honoured
than a fool who impregnates a twilight girl in the street
and baptizes her his wife.
He opens his people to worlds outside
and brings more friends.
Beware, son
of the nudging scent of passing roses.
Waste not yourself injecting water into them
We can't afford to have our flesh and blood raised
on a soil unknown
For seeds sown along the path see not maturity.
Get not a woman, but a wife--
She who'll come running when you call
She who'll respect us all, with our ways archaic.
She whom, together, you can go on a journey in daylight
without fear of harassment by the KWS
Serve her well, not to cry of hunger--
It's snatching men wives!
A man who lazes around fattening like a pig
Do nothing for his people.
Sire children to fill the earth empty!
A man is survived by children
Not the wealth he has robbed men--
It's fast consumed by kins, once he's fed to the soil!
It's through children that one's name for eternity lives
Even after fate has wiped him off Earth.
Marry; mother sings
Not a woman whose age rivals mine
Which lies hidden in her knees-- hard like a cow’s hoof!
She hides behind paints of irritating powders and perfumes
and squeezes herself into micro-garments
to evade aging
(and forever remain young!)
Digging in thighs of such a woman
Son, is worse enough to earn you a curse
Her well is a reservoir of acids toxic
That will eat your manhood away
Oh, you'll never sire!
Fall not for an Elephant;
A fool who hunts one and carries it home may collapse under its weight!
Bring us a girl with angelic allure
and a fine brain, wired to disambiguate life's ambiguities...
A woman with skinniest legs
is not good for a wife
She won't bent, hold a hoe and dig;
She won't carry water from the well
She will forever sit, glued to TV
or duracoating her lips and nails
As hunger eats you with relish!
But isn’t a home praised because of a woman?
Sleeping hungry is bad, really bad.
Do not marry a woman
with a chest as flat as wood
or breasts as tiny as pimples--
She will starve your children to death!
Get a tree that can bear fruits
and keep you in good health
not a flower to attract evil eyes
for, in times of hunger, a man
can’t eat the buttocks of a woman bootyful!
© wafula p’khisa
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Letters for Hildah
I
There is always something special
about you
That reminds me of a dream bred in
my conscience—
Swelling with the passing of
seasons.
Whether it's your rare bewitching
smile
That still lingers on my mind after
ages of separation
Or it's your angelic soft voice
That tickled to the core of my very
heart
Or how special I felt in your midst
I will never tell! I will never
tell, really!
Whether it's your unbroken breasts
That seemed to point at my heart
whenever we stopped to chat
Or it's your humble self
That assured me of peace during ages
beyond...
But what my heart reminds me
Is how special you are to me
That I can't stop thinking of you
That my world seems bleak without
you
And I dream to be yours, if you
can't be mine
Today, or in our afterlife.
I Love you, daughter of the moon.
II
A harvest of misery is all they get
Chasers of women contemptuous of
their passion
But in their innermost selves, something sit—
The hope of seeing glory, one
season...
I should have forgotten you that
night
After the dance, and silent walk in
the dark
But the warmth with which you
embraced me
Lit my heart to its darkest end
I had to see you, again and again
Till I aspired to elect you as my
other half.
My beloved, you are so charming a
woman
That left a delicious memory on my
mind
And confined me thus to this
fruitless hunt of your love
Which keep darting farther and
farther;
Beyond my horizon, and reach
Like the lucky star I've spend my
lifetime on Earth chasing...
Thus I beseech you, Hildah
I may soon break down
Because your coldness pricks my
heart;
I may soon break down
For even chasing the wind sometimes
is awful
But, before birds return for the
night
I pray you MARRY me
For I LOVE you!
III
For a year now, I've kept myself for
you
For ages to come;
I'll love no one but you!
Because you mean everything to me.
I've watched my brothers marry
Sire children and cease to be my company
I've watched maidens get pregnant
Bear and hold homes to stand
Whilst I grow bald and grey
For ages to come
I'll love no one but you!
Birds will return for the night and
on the pathway leave me, waiting
Beautiful ones will be born, and be buried
Whilst at every clock tick, hold my
breath
Eager to usher you into my existence
For ages to come
I'll love no one but you!
Weight of a Bullet.
(In memory of Gladys Katoi)
Hurled about by sons of bitches
as if it were sand on beaches
or maize grains winnowed by farmers
that makes us weep this much?
That tiny piece of metal
has robbed us of our beloved
parent, mother and wife
And hosting sorrow for us
at the most inopportune time.
But how could it happen really?
If the law hovers around all time
And why has the sons of bitches not been netted?
If the law claims to be tirelessly handling the case
Oh, men we're becoming mad!
We'll strip and show you nakedness
Cursing your generations
If we harvest not fruits of your job!
(c) wafula p'khisa
-Thigh of an Elephant-
A Harvest of Chaff
We must demolish the stores
We built for our dreams
This season's meager harvest
Won't nourish them to hatch.
Ignorance made us throw seeds into
weeds
Which choked them, thus in yielding flourish
We see their stomachs bulge, and swell with
self-importance
And envy wisemen that sowed in good
soils.
I nearly fainted on line
waiting to commune
with the tribal demigods
we ingeniously negotiated to throne:
About my security, my health and rioting
stomach;
unending strikes and idleness for
men of skill
and my share of the meat
But they sent uniformed men to show
me the way home
To wait and hear from them on TV or
Radio
Soon I heard they are on holiday in
Dubai!
The sweat we shed goes to waste
when all we harvest is pure chaff
They waste millions on curtains,
gates, wheelbarrows and dolls
Whilst hunger hands us to worms
They pinch millions to build empires
for pets
Whilst their kinsmen sleep in holes
and nests!
We must demolish the stores
We built for our dreams
Until the next planting season
This season's meager harvest
Won't nourish them to hatch.
(c) wafula p'khisa
-Thigh of an Elephant-
We Teachers will never have Peace
We teachers will never have peace
When strikes come it's worse
We march in streets with placards
singing solidarity
In decrying the state's undoing in our case
And endure scathing insults from rebels!
We teachers will never have peace
When strikes come it's worse
We imprison ourselves in our homes
And cheer our men battle it out
with the yam owner for a bigger
piece
We imprison ourselves in our homes
Feasting on the nothings we harvest
from nation building!
Our noise irritates every man
Who wants us remove stupidity from
his son
Our demands anger the very men
Who swore to help achieve our vision
As they fear we'll reduce the meat
they eat
Which together we hunt in the wild
Thus they threaten to suck us or
deny us what's rightfully ours
We return thus, without fruits of
victory!
We teachers will never have peace
When strikes come it's worse!
(c) wafula p'khisa
-Thigh of an Elephant-
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