Our Words, Our Voices

When I Am No More

2013-10-19T11:51:00.001-07:00

When this heart no longer beats

When my veins crumble

And run dry

Like a stream in drought

And the dark shine of my skin dies

Take me back home.

I want you to take me home!

Do not let me lie lifeless

In the open wide wild world

A carcass not even fit

For the hungriest hounds!

- Kelvin Karani.

The beast

2012-07-13T03:33:00.001-07:00

We heard screams from our neighbor

Screams of panic, screams of fear

That so hurriedly

Dragged us from our homes

“Its wild cat after my only fowls!”

We came back home

Wondering why a small wild cat

Would scare the neighbor so

Another day, the screams again

This time there was urgency in them

Its like death was knocking

On his mabati door

“It’s a hyena after my goats”

We held our laughter and anger

One in each hand

And walked home in the cold

The screams, on another day

This time much louder, much tense

The devil himself must have visited

“Look, a leopard after my only calf”

It was gone

The man rolled on the dewy dirt

Crying that now he was done

We walked home confused

Not having found how to feel his pain

Or even understand if there was cause for any

Back home,

The kraal was empty

The pigsty was empty

The chickens hut, poor thing,

The door was on the ground!

We sat on the dew

Wondering

What if?

Karani Kelvin

I Met a Girl In Kibera

2012-07-10T22:35:00.000-07:00

I met this girl in Kibera

Tall, dark, lean, dark eyes and long hair

Elsewhere, she could have been a model

Strutting before hungry cameras and eyes

Making a living by being who she is

But here, tucked in houses of mud

Under a roof that leaks

Living in a place of open sewers and flying toilets

Her beauty was hushed, intimidated

By this squalid place

Still, it shone through fake make up

And cheap, old, torn mitumba that she wore

She said I wasn’t a regular

But she still had a good deal for me, for it

“Just two hundred shillings for the night

I’ll be yours, to do as you please.”

Noting my surprise, she added:

“I may look young, but I know it all

Most of us around here do!”

I said lets have tea first

And she dragged me to the nearest makeshift hotel

Sipping tea as her red painted lips fluttered like leaves in a storm

She told me endless stories of things in store for me

Her face assumed the dead seriousness of a kanjo

While her lips the deadness of a bank safe

When I told her I wasn’t there for that

“What do you want?” Screamed her

Banging the table, standing and sitting

All in one moment.

Told her I was just checking in

That I wanted to see for myself

What life in Kibish really is like

She told me of her younger days

Walking to and from school, jumping

A ditch of running murk to step into another

“It was hard but fun nonetheless!”

There, on a hard bench biting my bottom

I knew of her mother who like her now

Worked especially during the night

She was sick now, so was her baby brother

“I had no choice, you see, so don’t judge me!”

I gave her a hundred and fifty, for its all I had

And walked home, thinking of this girl I had met

In her eyes, I saw her poor mother in bed

Wriggling in pain, cursing her life

I saw her little brother, small sad eyes

Popping out of his thin frame

Waiting for his sister to bring him peremende

Karani Kelvin

I sing not Kibera

2012-07-10T22:23:00.004-07:00

I sing not this infamous slum

That is constantly topical

For crime, poverty, calamities

That characterise daily routine.

Tension mounts

In your mud-walled falling hut

When dogs bark out,

And you hide under the bed

For slightest knocks on door.

People are socialised

To live like social animals they are;

Yet, no one is safe,

Even with their selves.

They wake up for today only

Not knowing what may befall;

Whether floods or bullets or gangsters,

Life still clings on same unwavering fetters.

I sing not for the open sewerages

That adorns people’s compounds.

The flying toilets, and a little fuss

That peculiarises daily life

The government assures its people

Yet the people live a downcast life,

A life that they borrow

And lenders sit tightly on their necks

I sing not Kibera,

Because there is nothing to sing

There is poverty to mourn,

There is neglect to pity,

There is crime to fear,

Yet, where can one run to

When the pockets snugly restrain them?

Eric Lungai

When all is said and done

2012-07-06T01:32:00.003-07:00

When all is said and done,

More will be left said than done

And we will forget them altogether

For we do not live on promises of the past

They say we are safe

Yet we are bombed in churches

And them in their heavily guarded homes

Where no one is allowed entry

When all will be said and done,

We’ll look back, re-examine and re-focus

On how tax payer’s money disappear

Into the wind faster than a hunter’s spear

Yet that spear never hits a worthy target

And the money never is seen anywhere

As it’s shipped to unknown dens

To generate more illegal wealth

For the bunch of wrecks that are leaders

When all is said and done,

We sure will weigh ones’ works

Then when wrongs offset rights

We’ll throw them into perpetual fire

As they never will merit to inherit the kingdom

Eric Lungai

I wish I was born earlier

2012-07-06T01:29:00.002-07:00

I wish I was born earlier,

When people were still savages

And there was no wave of civilisation.

When men were manly,

And women valued their chastity,

As they value prostitution now.

I wish I was born earlier,

When young men jumped naked

Without realising the treasure

To be tucked tightly in trousers;

When girls went to the streams

And boys would admire their butts devoid of malice.

I wish I was born earlier,

When ladies walked, chests held high

Without fear of what had sagged,

When they tied adorned girdles around their waists,

And were ready to return soiled sheets after wedding.

I wish I was born earlier,

When things just made sense...

When boys went out to graze animals

And girls went to collect firewood

Then the pair met in the bushes

And came back home late, exhausted.

I wish I was born earlier,

To listen to my grandfather’s poetics

To learn to cook from grandma,

To listen to heroic tales at hearth

Then retire to bed a happy man

With a rounded stomach, full of food

I wish I was born earlier,

When there were no demonstrations

And it was difficult for remonstrations.

When life was complete for the African child

Because he had no worry of tomorrow

This life I’m living now,

Doesn’t seem to be mine

It has been caricatured and curriculumed

And i have no more life in me

Other than accepting to be dragged around

I wish I was born earlier

To just live those savage lives

That our heroic grandparents lived,

And they died titled men

Eric Lungai

One night

2012-07-06T01:25:00.001-07:00

She came at night

And left before light

She had me ignite

To the sweetness infinite

I didn’t know her delight

For she was so bright

Her antics were so light

Yet the labour so tight

Where should I find her tonight?

She only came for one night

Though my armoury fight,

She already board her flight.

Eric Lungai

My little prayer

2012-07-06T01:22:00.004-07:00

Make me your love Lord

To always write without load,

Although so much bored

With this work of word

Always give me strength aboard

To write and write and write

Whatever that you approve right

Eric Lungai

Confused

2012-07-05T23:56:00.001-07:00

My mind is spinning

Like the earth, rotating

But without an axis

It is revolving

But it has no orbit

Nothing makes sense

Not even sense itself!

Karani Kelvin.

Dreams

2012-07-05T23:48:00.001-07:00

Dreams of yester years

Haunt me when awake

They blind my eyes

Shackle my feet

I walk

Without seeing

Dragging my feet

On the ground

Wondering

Like the dreams

What really happened?

Why did it happen?

Why am I here?

Only sleep brings comfort

I dream other dreams

See other things

Feel other feelings

Is it about fate?

Pluck these eyes

And let me

Like ill fated Oedipus

To walk blindly

To the END.

Karani Kelvin.

You will never walk alone

2012-07-05T02:08:00.004-07:00

We hear your cries brother

Do not let go for we are coming

These captors’ cells contain us no more

We have broken free! We are free again!

Your groans have reached us

Like the sting of a bee they pierce our hearts

Hold on! Calvary is coming for you

Hold on! Our arrows are being sharpened

Hold on! Sacrifices are being offered

Hold on brother! We cannot carry a corpse

To our people; what would they think?

Guard that life well, strengthen your heart!

Let not the kicks and blows of the enemy

Grind you like millet by the grinding stone

Fight for life! Fight! Fight! Fight!

Fight for you are not walking alone!

Karani Kelvin

Letter to Atapara

2012-07-05T02:06:00.001-07:00

I have not forgotten you, Atapara

Land of my ancestors

Beautiful place of my birth

Your fresh air, singing birds, sleeping boulders

Is the memory I always carry

Your messages have been received:

Poverty has usurped power

Children have forgotten the dusty paths to school

Mothers have been left alone

And our fathers have become bosom friends with alcohol

I will return, Atapara; so will all your children

Its tough out here, but we are pushing on

You didn’t teach us giving up

Our paths, and that of money, or those leading to it,

Are yet to cross, Atapara.

But this sun will not set before that!

Karani Kelvin

I was not there

2012-06-28T23:59:00.001-07:00

(for Louis Rivera)

I was not there

When my hero

Feet and hands bound

Landed heavily on a Black Maria

Tired, beaten but determined

I was not there

At the ridiculous trial

Where cold justice

Was pumped through his warm soul

I was not there

When he was thrown

Like a dead dog

Into a lonely unmarked grave

But I still shiver

From the cold cuffs

Cold as the soul of those who condemned him

That bound him

As he lay bare-chested

With dreadlocks telling it all

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

Remember the Past

2012-06-28T23:55:00.000-07:00

WE WILL NOT FORGET THE PAST

Debated, written about, contested

It remains

An enigma to younger generations

We still want to know

Who was it

To whose credit

Is Uhuru

We walk about

Knowing we know little

Almost nothing

Of who we are

Where we came from

Who we ought to be

Their spirits are yet to rest

They call on us, the young

To tell the true story of the liberation

The true story of the revolution

Indeed,

“The past is deep.”

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

Atapara of old

2012-06-28T23:51:00.004-07:00

I long for you

The Atapara that I never knew

Peaceful land and people

At ease among beautiful boulders and trees

If I could but momentarily experience you

Listen to your legends

Herd you cattle

And till your cassava farms

Then I would be at peace

The Atapara that today I see

So chagrins the soul in me

Divided

Torn apart by stupid jealousies

It stabs itself in the heart

I am lost

A soldier without a post

In a land of ghosts

I have no home

For the quest for money and fame

Has left me

Internally displaced

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

Confession of a thief

2012-06-28T05:13:00.003-07:00

Can I teach in brief?

I am about to hang:

Was a ruthless thief,

Mastered a deadly gang;

The highest in street ranks.

Robbed choice foreign banks,

Gave money to the natives.

Probably poverty’s an old motive.

But learn from these few words;

There is no justice in this world:

If you do not steal,

Yours will go still,

You remain with nothing,

They laugh at you rotting.

You dearly want to reach riches?

Do as these public witches:

They blind our dusty eyes,

And rob us in disguise.

Do not go my ways,

Lest you live my days.

Goodbye to you all,

I did do my role.

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

The Ghosts

2012-06-28T05:09:00.005-07:00

They died of poverty fighting for liberty,

Victims of a white wild malady,

Ever seeking for remedy,

Now they are back causing others to hack,

Pangas rise in the dark

Screams then a sudden smack!

Silence.

Behold, the hosts!

Behold the ghosts!

Anger and hatred knows no comrades,

Soldiers parade,

Crush and invade,

The land turned red many fallen dead,

For the hosts were here,

Within us or near,

Everywhere, fear,

But we will shed no tear, because

All this crime visits us penta-time.

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

Soccer Mania

2012-06-28T05:04:00.001-07:00

I mourn for Manchester City, my team:

Thrashed by Arsenal, five-nil

Yesterday at ….field;

I forget the playground’s name!

I mourn for Man-change-a-city, my city:

Cracking in arsenal, tens dead

Everyday at African….field;

Hard to remember all these names!

Perhaps it is the referee:

Unfair- unfairly picked,

Rigging the goals;

Wait and see,

Next game we’ll show’em!

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

Slut me?

2012-06-28T05:01:00.002-07:00

Please don’t take my sadness for sickness,

When with sore rage and madness I

Slap your slanderous lips,

Bang!

Into sullen shriveled silence.

What wrong have I to claim for you,

That you do what you do

With another man in my bedroom,

And being the only two!

Yes, he was a man of god,

A pastor!

Tell him then to leave with his god,

Faster!

Before he becomes past tense,

Bastard!

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

The Common Stranger

2012-06-28T04:58:00.001-07:00

Twice had I met with her,

On the second she said she

Had never met me before.

On the third she will ask,

Who are you?

Have we met before?

I will laugh,

Bitterly;

Believe me you.

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

Night colleagues

2012-06-28T04:56:00.002-07:00

Calmly creeping towards the house

Tap-a-tap, tap-a-tap, tap-tap,

The memorized knock;

The password;

Hoping she will open before the dog barks,

And bites like this night’s cold.

Clouds are shadows in the heavens,

Trees make shadows on the ground,

For animal and me to ghost under:

Bushmen of the twentieth century.

The moon doesn’t blink,

Time tick-tocks on,

The colonialist couldn’t civilize,

The Son Of Man couldn’t be accepted:

Africa, the land of stones and flesh,

The rocks and hearts,

The visible darkness.

Langat Japheth, Senior Editor, Utafiti Foundation. Find him on Facebook!

Searching for me

2012-06-28T01:30:00.002-07:00

I am searching for me

Among these broken clay things

And these dusty broken gourds

I strum the adeudeu

To see

If it will remind me my voice

In these open grazing fields

And cassava farms

I try to retrace my routes

But where are my footsteps?

I stumble on a shrine

I kneel

And pray

Eyes open

Hands stretched out

“Edeke, who am I?”

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

Suicide note

2012-06-28T01:28:00.001-07:00

Is this rope tight enough?

Like life?

Always messing me up

Squeezing itself out

I know

Just because it’s tough

Doesn’t mean we should quit

But it matters not anymore

My efforts bore no fruit

A potential wife

Now will miss a husband

A country in the wild

Now loses a leader

Is this rope tight enough?

Like life?

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

At the meeting

2012-06-28T01:26:00.000-07:00

It’s the nearness of the rumble

That involuntarily

Puts my hand on my stomach

Yes, it’s empty.

A foul smell half-awakes me

Involuntarily, as if by habit,

I lift my bottom on the right:

A stream of stench

Finds freedom from its fleshy trap

Yes, that was me!

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.

Mere statistics

2012-06-28T01:21:00.001-07:00

Dawn:

A fleeting memory of black robes and hoods

Of teeth with various degrees of whiteness

Of hope, of ambition, of dreams

Enough to feed the hungry

Of celebration after success well earned?

The sun sprints from wonderland

Soon it will scorch shaved heads

Of tie-strangled, suit adorning,

Brown envelope bearing hustlers

Evening:

Tired dusty forms unmindful of dust

Drag themselves home

E’en before the trail of dust they raised

Finds its way back to earth

“For how long, for how long good lord?”

Papers are reviewed, brown bottles brought

Tomorrow is another day.

Karani Kelvin (Facebook or Twitter). - sirkarani@gmail.com. I also blog at Business Tips Kenya. Share your thoughts, comments, compliments and criticisms below.