Coming to Nairobi

In my teens, 

When I first came to Nairobi

It was the buildings that caught my eye

The tall skyscrapers amazed my young curious mind

Like a typical villager,

I would stand and marvel at KICC

Next the Hilton would amaze me

The tele posta’s, the Am banks, the Lonhro’s, the View Park towers

All made me stop and stare and just wonder

The bell-bottomed Co-operative bank house used to give me the last shock

As I boarded a 111 bus to school

Still struck with sheer awe

Of their dazzling heights

In my twenties

When I came to Nairobi

I was in the university

That time;

It was the women

Who caught my eye

They were all beautiful

With rounded bottoms and succulent breasts

Swinging up down, left right

With them my eyes went the same

Left right, up down

From Moi Avenue to Kimathi street

They were everywhere

Kenyatta Avenue

Swinging

Left right, up down

Uptown to downtown
Down to the go-down

Ronald Ngala street

To Tom Mboya street

They were there, swinging and swaying their hips rhythmically

Up down, left right

They were all chocolate brown

I guessed their skin was baby belly soft

Only if I could touch

They all had long hair

And wet kissable lips

I wondered how they tested

But all I could do was dream

I wondered where they all came from

And how they had deprived the countryside off beauty

I somehow believed there was some ‘kanjo’ guys

Who used to sit at Kangemi, Mlolongo and Kasarani

To vet all the women entering the city

All from Western, Nyanza and Rift valley where stopped and vetted at Kangemi

Those from central at Kasarani, the ones from coast and Ukambani were vetted at Mlolongo

The ugly where turned back

While the beautiful where allowed into the city

In my thirties

I come to Nairobi

This time,

It’s the cars

That get my eye

I get lost

I get struck, amazed

With the big machines

That roll on this city streets

There goes a Range

Another Range, one, yes two…three

That’s a jaguar coming this way

Which Benz class is that that just zoomed past?

Wow! Check out that beamer

My head sways left

Even before that is past

Here comes another serious guzzler

Head left, head right, then left

Oh my, my neck is paining

Where do all these cars come from?

Who owns them?

Where do they make their money?

This city, I swear there are serious cars

In my forties

God willing

I will still come to Nairobi

I wonder what will amaze me then

Until then

Here at Yaya

Let me check out the latest car

That has just zoomed by

A by election, a drift in the rift as prophesized by a cock fight in a village farm

I thought William Ruto was the best student of the best teachers in politics- Daniel arap Moi and Raila Odinga. I thought he learnt from the best of the best from the best. I thought he had read Niccollo Machiavelli's 'The prince' and kept it by his bedside (alongside his bible). I was wrong. Today might mark the beggining of a 'siku mrefu' for William. Whatever outcome the Kericho's by election will be, one William Rutto will not be a man at ease, there is a rift in the rift. 
I remember one day when we were young, we bought a young cockerel home. We had an old cockerel that had become sick. The young cockerel immediately assumed the old cock's conjugal duties. But the old cockerel never stopped doing one duty that kept us all in check-waking us up every 4:30 AM in the morning. The new cockerel crowing was erratic-sometimes he would crow at 2 AM or some days at 6:30 AM. The old cockerel backed down, retreated and only concentrated on nursing himself while the new entrant flossed flamboyantly with the hens. One day, the old cock decided to mount one of the hens. The young cock immediately lurched on him and alas, farm in the village witnessed a rare kind of a chicken world war. It was an all out war,a fight for control, a fight for pride, a fight for recognition, a fight for death. The old cock was fighting for his pride, he was fighting not to live and have the hens but to die with pride. He gave it all. When the dust and feathers settled, there was only one winner. The new entrant was disposed and chased to the end of our farm. 
William did not borrow a leaf from RAO on how he has managed to keep a firm grip on Nyanza, from M.O. 1 on how he kept the rift in his pocket for almost ever. The ghost's and skeleton's of enemies he didnt finish have come to haunt and consume William. If he read the Prince, then he must have skipped this line-"If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared". William, my man, tuko na wewe mpaka mwisho but for today, I wish you luck, a lot of it, you deserve it. If you leave the south rift to drift, you are done, you would have dropped the pot at door, the ball at the try line. You would have left the house of Myoot to be devoured like vultures. The trappings of Kalenjin unity will be dispersed like barren seeds over the land, from plains of Kibomet, Ziwa to highlands of Kosoiywa, Nandi hills to Litein and to the far ends of Silibwet, Bomet.

MY FIRST LOVE

I had never felt her
Yet she had been there all along
Class one, two, and three
Then I came to realize she existed
Somewhere along the way
Guess when a stray hormone startled me to be
What took me so long?
To find and mine gold, that was set to be mine.

She was blessed with large sparkling eyes 
That she rolled from side to side
She liked to play with them with abandon
Sending me to a frenzy
Her sweeping eye lashes were longer than the reeds down by the swamp
She was so cheeky, this chic got a teacher pinching my cheek everyday
And she would love it, only to apologize in the evening
She was ever smiling, I never saw her sad
Ever showing her shiny, halo-white teeth
And when she smiled, her big eyes glowed
Lighting up my entire small world
Wow, I would have given everything to be with her every minute 
She had these super supple and kissable curvy lips. 
Sadly though we never knew what kissing was
She wore shoes then, yes; she had them
Black rubber shoes on her small feet
Her skin was soft chocolate brown
Akin of the Kipsigis from Chepalungu
For she was one of their finest
With kinky curly hair, she was such beauty
And she was my first love.

With her we had
Days full of sunshine
Though it was in the highlands where it rained daily,
It never rained in our small wonder world that we shared
In August
When the loquats ripened
I wouldn't wait for the school to open
I would climb our quava tree
And get the first; and best ripened fruit to her
To cement my undying love for her
We would play hide and seek in the flower beds
That were behind class five.
In the evening after school,
I would walk her some distance to home; for they stayed far
She would run, then dare me to catch her if I could
Laughing and running all the way
As we rolled down the hills
Down to the river
Ducking and jumping; with my paper heart thumbing
We’d cross the river to the vast tea estate.
Silhouetted by a setting sun
We consummated our baby love
On a green carpet of tea bushes rolling from horizon to horizon 
Oh my, sometimes it gets me thinking about it.

My first love
Where did she go?
One January
As we occupied a new class; class seven
Her desk was conspicuously missing
She was gone, they had moved
My paper heart was distraught
It was not yet steel hardened prepared to be heart broken
She never left a forwarding address
With no mobile phones,no social media; the facebooks, twitters, IM's
She was gone, I was broken.

It was loved brewed in a golden pot tinted with innocence
Love at first discovery
At our local primary school
Long before hormones started raving wild
Maybe someday I may meet her; maybe.
A mother of five; or two times divorced?
But nothing matters
For she was my first love.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Disclaimer: This is work of a hapless reluctant writer. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s long lost feelings and are used generously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and is highly regrettable. The writer reserves and deserves the feelings of his heart.

Those guys at Microsoft

Those guys
At Redmond campus, WA
Made me a robot
Of their products
And I cannot move
Or leave


While their business is a boom
I am slowly headed to my doom
I better find someone else to groom
Before I became a broom for this room
Those guys at Microsoft!

WHERE YOUR HEART TAKES YOU

I remembered some inspiring song I used to listen sometimes back, by Mya- Where the dream takes you. I could not help but borrow a few lyrics of this wonderful masterpiece

****************************************************
There is something in your soul
That won't be denied
It's the faith to dream that keeps the dream alive
It makes you believe
And you know you must go
Where the dream takes you
Where your dream takes your heart
Where your heart longs to be

You're not alone
And you may find somebody there
Where the dream takes you
Someone who shares your dream
There's a whole world that await you
Where the dream takes you
Go where your heart is meant to be

And you will eventually find that place
There you'll find all you need
Where the dream takes you
Where your hearts wants to be

WHAT GOOD IS A HOUSE? Part 1

Godi eased the vehicle into the Mohitos club parking and let it idle a minute as the engine died off. He took another two minutes to open the door and enter the last hours of the Saturday night. He missed a step or two, he was drunk alright. But he was not the staggering type. How could he? He was the tank; the tank that drank all night and still remained sober! But tonight was different. He had been drinking since Friday evening. He remembered an old mzee who; to get a can of the local brew from him had shared with him some cheap advice. “Usikunywe fombe na stress kijana, fombe ni ya kunywa na stalehe. Ukikunywa na stress utalewa sana”. Maybe he was right. He was drunk.

He passed some two prostitutes who had lined the way to the club. The sound the Subaru made had attracted them-like moths to a candlelight. There was a strip club opposite the Mohitos club. Its parking was full. Funny people, he thought to himself. Why should they still be watching people they don’t know show them stuff they can’t have? They should be home cuddling with their wives or be doing something. Anyway, that’s them. His thinking was cut short by one of the two prostitutes. “Boss, come nikufurahishe” she said while blowing a cloud of smoke from whatever she was smoking. She smiled, exposing one missing the upper tooth. But it was a smile anyway, maybe it could warm his cold heart and body. “Hapana, asante”, he answered as he made his way past them and into the club.

There were still a few people inside sitting scattered in no particular pattern. But the corners seemed to be their favorite. The lights were a bit bright for a club. The speakers seemed tired of being forced to sing the whole night and had gone on a go slow. He opted to sit next to one of them, to give each other solace or so. In his mind, he wondered what time it was; and even which day it was. Could it be Sunday morning? His mind was playing tricks with him. Lately, he had lost a sense of time, lost sense of many things. No; he knew he had left work the previous day and partied in Westie the whole Friday night with the boys. He woke up yesterday at 2 pm, hungry and nursing a bad hangover. Yes, it was still Saturday night.

He remembered that he had woken up alone in the house. It was so hot. He took a quick shower and put on the blue jeans he had worn the previous day. He rummaged through the wardrobe looking for one of his favorite weekend shirts. He found none. Cursing, he realized that it had been a month since she had been gone and he had exhausted his stock of clean clothes. He could not believe that he couldn’t find anything to put on. He went to the clothes basket that they had kept. It was full of dirty clothes. Just as he was looking for a not-so-dirty shirt in the rubble, he remembered he had some work branded Polo T-shirts he had brought home some time back. He found them, picked one and wore it the creases notwithstanding. There was some unknown sense of urgency to leave the house. Maybe it was dusty since it had been a month they were last there. But no, there was dust all over as the construction of the southern bypass sneaked through their estate. Maybe the house was haunted. Yes, it was haunted. It was them who haunted the house. Yes, the house was haunted. It was haunted by their laughter, by his cries, the movement of toys, by the smell of something nice cooking in the kitchen. It was haunted by her charming presence, her smile, her making sure everything was ok; that he had clean clothes and the ‘mlevi’ stew would be waiting for him when he woke up for him to cure his hangover. Now it was all gone. Gone in a flash, gone with the wind. He had to get out of the house fast or he would lose his mind, plus he had a bad hangover to cure.

He had left the house with no particular destination in mind. Funny that he could not even find his drinking plan yet for all the years she had been there he had always known where to be at what time the whole weekend. She has even disrupted this? Maybe he was wired to her. The hunger biting, merged with the hangover informed him that what he needed now was the mlevi stew or boilo or tumbukiza as it was called- a mix of boiled mutton meat with cabbages, green bananas and a lot of pepper all boiled together. Ronga was the place to go. He got into the Subaru and slowly left the estate. Tom, one of the boys called as the sub started to hit the highway. He said they will join and asked that he places an order of 5 Kg since he got company and they will be there in an hour’s time. And that how his Saturday had started. He made it to Rongai-Ronga, as it was known, a bustling town in the outskirts of Nairobi. The town seemed to have been shaped by the main road that went past to Maasailand. There were many bars along the road and it was not hard to pick one as they all screamed Nyama choma tayari with roasted meat on display begging to be eaten. He ordered the meat then settled down for his cold beer as he read the Saturday newspapers. The place was slightly busy. He busied himself with his drink and papers, once in a while getting lost in a stray thought over her. Ben, one of the boys called, saying they will be joining shortly. Ben was surprised that he was alone, and assured him not to worry because his latest campus girlfriend was stringing along her friend. It was going to be fun.

They had arrived, the food came, they ate and started drinking. Tom was with his ‘Sato clande’ as he called her since he saw her only on Saturdays. True to his word, had come with the two girls. They had introduced themselves. The way they had sat instantly sent the message home on who was whose, or was going to be whose. Tom always took pride on how good he was with winning beautiful women. And it was true. Sheila, or whatever her name was a quite a beauty. Her figure-hugging leggings left nothing to be devoured off her curvy body. On the contrast was her friend. She was not very pretty. She wore a lot of makeup to make up for the looks. She seemed to roll her eyes forever each time he looked at her and never stopped saying Oh my God. The boys bonded, the girls chatted and did wherever they did with their phones. More beer flowed, lips got loosened and the conversation got easy. They did not realize it had gotten dark until someone suggested they change the venue.

Rongai’s nightlife gave in to them. It gave them a night to remember. There were many clubs, they hopped from one to the other, went back to the previous whenever they did not like the music. They partied hard, they got closer; he got drunk more and more. They tried everything, but for him, anything went in. Dee, as he came to know later that was her name smoked like a train and drank like a fish. He was on the receiving end of whatever tot she ordered. He drank as many Tequila shorts that he could count.

It was late when they left Rongai. As usual, it was Tom who gave the signal that it was time to go. They had sheets to patch and sleep to catch; that’s what he would say. Dee staggered halfway to the car and he had to support her the other halfway. She slumped into the passenger seat and mumbled something he didn’t hear. By the time he was starting the engine, she had passed out. One by one, they got out into the road and drove into the clear Rongai night with Tom leading the way in his Mark X. He followed closely. They had parted ways on reaching Mombasa road. He was left with a drunken girl in the car not knowing what to do. He thought about taking her to his house then thought otherwise. That was their sanctuary and he could not mess it up by bringing another woman to that house. He gave another look at the drunken girl sleeping in his car and decided it was not worth it. He had some unwritten rules that he had coined when in campus and had always followed. One: Don’t hunt what u can’t kill. Two: Don’t kill what you can’t eat. Three: Don’t eat what you did not kill. He had not made the kill, he was no scavenger. He decided to take her back to campus then head home. Home? No; it was a house. And the house was haunted. He was not going there. It was then that he decided to have one last drink at Mohitos

Our fattened bull

OUR FATTENED BULL
A hurriedly arranged session had been called
Two houses merged to one
A country was pregnant with expectation
Not knowing what the president was going to say
For there was a big announcement to be made

A few pleasantries were exchanged
Then everything went quite
As the president entered the chambers
Somewhere in a hotel room the Cordeshians huddled together
Catching up, as they do in keeping up with the Kardashians
They were expecting the president to defy the summons

And then president let out the cat
He will be attending the status conference
And more importantly, his deputy will be the acting president
A heart skipped a beat
In the cordeshians hotel room someone could not hold their part
And let out a silent but salient fart
It must have been tinga tinga tanga tanga as they called him
At least they had a wiper
To wipe, and swipe their drenching wet sweat
Undulations rent the air
From Cherangany hills to Chebalungu plains
Our bull from Kamagut had announced its arrival on the stage
A set stage, a page in the history of a nation

Significance, or there lack of it
Hogwash; that is a bore
From a loser who is sore
Our bull had announced its intention to gore
Our bull’s intentions were clear
And there is nothing to fear
The full trappings of power were hurriedly transferred
Our bull was not limbo, he rode the official limo

Shhhs…enough
Let the celebrations stop
Albeit for the moment
Let the brouhaha cool down
From the women at the market in Chepterit
To Kibet, harvesting maize in Kibomet
From Cherono listening to her transistor radio
While plucking tea in Kapsuser
Let the celebrations stop
Not until we get to the top
From Chepchieng drinking Kipketinik
At the foot of the Tugen hills
Kiptesot with his rusted can of busaa at Rebecca’s in Silibwet
To arap Chepkwony and company
Meeting later on today to wash down and celebrate at Kapande, Lang’ata
Hold your horses; the time is yet to come
Thank you, thank you…kongoi missing

The house of myot
Tos malat kot?
Kim kole kim…Kim
Iman kole iman…Iman
King kole king….king

Let us fatten our bull to be the best
Let us lead our bull to rest
In de cool blue waters, in de Chebarbar
Our bull will drink the clean clear waters from Cheploch gorge
It will feed on the lush green grass
Growing in the banks of the Chemosi river
Then we shall take our bull
To the salt licks Ol’lessos
For fattening, till the season is ripe
During the cold season, our bull will head to Soin
Down by Marich pass, where the Kimondi and Meswo join
The heifers of Kaptembwa will stop producing milk for KCC
To massage our wounded bull from the battle at ICC
Kusema na kutender, its meat will be so tender

In the month of Iwat gut
When lightning lights up the night sky in Tinderet
The cue that the house of myot has always relied upon for generations
From Chumek, Sawe, Nyongi , Kaplelach to the restless Kipnyigei
The time to plant, or at the time to circumcise
And we shall let out our bull
We shall take it to the peaks of Mt. Elgon
Where it shall announce its arrival
To its existing and to be yet to be made rival
Its bellow from below its yellow belly
Will send all the bulls scampering for safety
The bull from Khayega will tremble
From fear and wet itself
Allegiance will shift, alliance will be made
Our bull will devour all the sugarcane
From Mumias, to Awendo up to Kwale in the coast
But do i say, for we do not boast
In a shutter, our bull will shatter and scatter their bull's skull
For there will be no stopping our fattened bull
When it’s time comes