SUNSET WHISPERER

A Letter To My Son4

2011-04-05T06:01:00.001-07:00

Where is the Baby Boom I Once Saw in KU?

Dear son,

How you doing?I know right now you are pressed by exams almost running out of breath and in a bad mood,so I will be brief.How are you finding the exams?Well,this is of course a rhetorical question because the obvious is true.I don’t expect things to be easy for you.I am proud to have a son who never entertains idleness and so sure I am that you have been busy the whole semester with stuff Alfred Mutua of "Najivunia kuwa Mkenya Mkenya Campaign" won't find amusing. I am made to understand that the whole of last few weeks you have been busy campaigning for characters who lost even after making pretty posters that made them seem to be more than themselves in real life.All I hope is that they paid you well enough to compensate for the energy you are now using to think and strain during exams as you twist your neck around researching from friends and trying to be clever not to be caught red handed by the vicious invigilators.I know of a teacher-guy who got suddenly fat after he caught some clever students who were taking their brightness an extra mile by hard-eyedely researching for answers while exams were in progress,against the university’s examinations regulations.I suspected the guy was promoted for doing what other invigilators were incapable of doing.

Strange things happen in this life son.Things happened this semester.First,a guy is rumoured to have died in KU in Ngong hostel late in the night when trying to escape from the housekeeper.Apparently he had come for a sleep over at his girlfriend's place but late in the night after the 10pm time-mark for visiting female hostel the guy got so pressed he could dare stand the pressure.So he chucked out with his girl only to see the house keeper.He wanted to become clever not to be caught so he climbed outside the room to cling on the window on the third floor only to fall down and later pass away.Such an honorable thing to die for love!The second thing:one guy went the Oprah Confessional way out of nowhere to claim that he had been raped by some vicious girls in Nyayo hostels.I want to know what someone was going to do about it but so far that storo is dead.And where are men and there issues left?God knows! Lastly,A well formed fetus was found dumped in the garbage collection point next to Nyayo Three.Whoever did it was must have had some divine inspiration to do such.Normally for me even changaa cannot go through my throat before I offer a short prayer to the MAN who made the best the world has never drunk-sadly I missed to crush that wedo-out of mere water and always I have to close my eyes and there after scream as the good water slips down my throat.Where did they get the guts to do that?

However,these incidents if true as they are romourd and which I am doing now,they cannot beat what I witnessed while in third year when people came back from the long holiday after the March 2009 disturbances.Almost every chic in KU was pregnant.It was the wildest baby boom I have never witnessed.For days I marveled at how the absurd beautiful working of nature was fast taking over Madam's KU's beautification program and I though of it much,attempting an understanding of what was going on without finding any answers.Honestly son,I did a lot of pondering over it more than I have ever done for my academic work in KU.But while I was thinking the buds swelled and every where they were walking they were growing wild and ready to bloom.Then I wished I had had a flowering project going on somewhere because it seemed so easy to have a good harvest.To have a bouncing little rose calling me “tatii” and buying the diapers and pampers before buying my first shaving blade would have been a better investment than the booming photocopy and assignment-doing(?!!) ventures that is spilling over in KM. It seems now nobody is going that way and strangely it makes me sad.It felt so good to have like a thousand hugs in a day from the expecting chics with round belly pressed on you and you try to imagine the baby saying”enda uoge kwanza”.It felt good to have the feeling of what having an expecting wife would be only that she I might be the least of people she wants see when she is carrying our girl due unfavourable mood swing.Unfortunately I have never come to know why and how so many ladies became so expectant like that!But it should happen again!

Any way,I am already having my thin legs in cold water to try to read this UCU hand out I borrowed from a friend.Of course I am barely seeing what I am reading but I hope that the remnants of what I happen to remember will be of help.A friend gave me a PDF software that can read notes for you.It happens that I remember better things that happen when I am sleeping.Unfortunately the thing never sees even full stops!Ndekhe nyakhane pore pore.Strangely I will get an A in this when the diligent children of Madam who have been going to class will get Ds and then Give up the dream of FIRST CLASS HONOURS.It is the way to grow and it is beautiful life.Good bye,son and may you pass better than yourself.

Loving-Sleep-Walking-Buddy

Good-Loving-Daddy-For-Life

Charl Chotto

A Letter To My Son

2011-04-05T06:00:00.001-07:00

A Weekend of ShameDear son,

How is Nyayo campus? Eastern is cool though my retirement to this paradise of a place is not going as I had expected it to be.

Son, what is your idea of a bad weekend? If anything is to go by, then my weekend needs to go into the list of shame. The other time I had told you that I am single and searching, I bet you now know why. So around Wednesday I met this gorgeous classy lady I had been chasing after during my prime days and never took me seriously because I had no class. I am now old and to prove a point I threw her a challenge and offered to take her out so us “to know each other better.” Mark you then I did not have even a penny in my pocket. I was feeling up to the game given the kind of night my Tuesday was. That night I was cooking some fish and my neighbour next door was warming up for some soup and a kaborn to spice up his sukuma wiki.Just when I had added some salt and about to taste, the power went out and for hours. Then I remembered the fish that had been simmering in my pot. At home we call it Njoroge.One thing you ought to know that living around the lake is no guarantee to eat fish. You have to come to Nairobi if you want a fair bargain. People around the lake never had the entrepreneurial inspiration so one Njoroge migrated to the Lake side and made life better by availing the bony remains of the fish after the meat has been scrapped off and sent to Nairobi. The moment you saw the fish the scrupulous nice talking Njoroge who was the darling of the fish market so the name really befitted his wares that he brought to the maket.Otherwise,we simply called it mgongo wazi and to enjoy it you have to imagine while eating that it gas flesh all round it.

Let’s come back to our story. By Friday I had pocketed some 2K and the next dilemma was where to go to. Then I remembered the Terrific Tuesdays advert for pizza advert on Capital fm and I had never tasted some. So I picked on Galito even though I did not know where it was. We got there with my confidence soaring high because I was loaded. When the fun and dining was over, I had only KShs.200 remaining. No more fun. Thanks to my phone, it can make fake incoming calls. I told her I had something important to do with my journalism club that evening so we had to come back to KU.She knew I had run out of cash but I did not care. I was going to roast some beans as kawa and now I knew she was never my type.

Then on Sunday Man U is thrashed 3-O by Liverpool!

Son, there was a time when almost everything was turning herbal. You remember those days? Well, maybe you were young you never took notice. We had herbal toothpaste, herbal skin lotions, herbal hot dogs-even my nightmares almost turned herbal. Kenyan marketers and producers are just geniuses I wonder why they never made love and finding love on face book herbal too. Getting a nice woman would be nice and I would not need to go on twitter, pair matching agencies or 2go of all the places to find my miss right; it would be: do you have a herbal smile, a loaded herbal wallet and herbal sense for ladies feelings? Then here is your match. Easy and clear! But I guess they ran out of the herbal ingredient before getting to this level.

The university administration is now calling on us to propose sustainable development ideas in the campus that can help make life better. If this would have come in the herbal days, I would have proposed that they make the end semester exams and the CATs herbal too. You cannot imagine the persistent headaches and goose pimples that plague me when my semester is just about to begin after 2 months of sheer fun to be told that “Oh, tomorrow we have the Cat” yet you have never attended any class. You transnight,the CAT comes, you forget most of the points you read only to realize that the main exams are the following week.Suc h a times I get sick and the good doctor at the health unit knows me well. A packet of panadols is enough to work miracles for me. Such time you don’t risk going to the library. They open the place late, you are almost crushed at the door as people rush to secure the expensive and rare seats that remain empty the rest of the SEM and then nice legs are always coming and going you forget why you are there.

However, today it is the three-in-one craze. The Nescafe three-in-one tastes cool though the sugar for a guy courting diabetes like me it is so narrow. But the crème in it is good for one like me who doesn’t know the price of milk. So, like the other times in KU, this craze has picked up pretty fast. Love around here is coming wrapped as three-in-one: the hype of false love; damage to the pocket and you go dry, then third end knocks in, you are single again! And you feel like you won’t be going to Ruwes and Ngongs in search of love but the heart is such a liar!

Son,is Nyayo still as noisy as it were before. I used to find it a hell of a place to be except for the fact it was easier to keep close to my many concubines; a dash to Nyayo 1 or t2 and I am though with my routine parade inspection. Right now I wish KU had Campus service. The walk to Ngong and Ruwe back to Nyayo and then to Eastern is killing me. In those days the craze for ufas-what do call them- was so high so guys used to compete.Mukangal played loud in Nyayo 2 and somebody responded with some Luo benga in Nyayo 3 and Rock maniacs in Nyayo 4 crowned the frenzy with my good ladies in Nyayo 1 and 2 seeming oblivious to it all you thought they rated these men as lunatics of some kind. Then there was the toilet thing. In my life I have never seen toilets people have to climb when on those important shuttle diplomacy in the small rooms. Naturally, I am not a mountain climber so I found myself so much out of place.

The good news is that soon I will be leaving and I will be glad to let you have my place and orient you with the Aberdares ladies. They live in their own private world and are good in the art of “ignoring KU guys “if you do not know them you can get grossly disappointed with them.Otherwise, the place is promising for an enterprising man like but you rather get saved first to be accepted amongst the sheep. Otherwise, do not risk it. Have I said too much? See you son and be papa’s ngund mboy

Yours

Loving-Good Dad-for –life

Charl Chotto.

Gone Before Parching the Torn Basket

2011-03-27T22:59:00.000-07:00

How I long for that moment again,

To see her face, look up,

With tears in my eyes, and see her,

Walking along the narrow village path leading home,

A wide smile,graced with bottomless love and affection,

Wafting through the strands o' space and time,

Into my bursting young heart.

But like a log washed away downstream,

Like dry petals that once soothed the sun,

And made souls sigh with wonder,

She is gone forever,

Her spirit drifting free in the morning wind,

And all her embrace being everyday's failing memory.

When she closed her eyes,

No longer smiling, lips drawn,

And face blank like dead bleak horizon,

I shed no tear,

But when the fresh earthed mound grew,

Squeezing her in eternal prison,

Her love,care,warmth,laughters and maternal madness,

Held beneath the rejoicing cold tentacles of the earth,

I wept my heart out,

My soul filled with gnawing darkness,

And frenzied pain corroding my soul,

As I knew it was our last together,

And forever I will never,
Have her around to call her mama,

Except the frozen moment on the photograph,

When she looked at dad like an angel with love and joy,

While peaceful in her rounded rosy belly,

I lay nibbling my little fingers,

Oblivious of loss and pain,

Not knowing one day forever she will be gone,

Leaving me with unshed milk teeth,

The basket of yet to bloom love with holes not parched,

While crying that soon she comes back.

Charl Chotto
Writ'27th March 011,KU

The Prodigal Cockroach Lost in the Jungle

2011-03-27T22:57:00.000-07:00

Tired of the tyranny of a nagging heart,

I wrenched my inheritance from my blind mother,

And followed the setting sun, rich, flamboyant and graceful,

By week’s end I had lost everything to pyramid schemes,

Except the IDEOs phone I had,

All the time looking out for get-rich-quick-schemes,

On my Android powered phone,

And so then I became a prodigal son,

Lost in the jungle of tall buildings in the city,

While crawling like a cockroach,

Alongside 680, Serena and Hilton hotels,

All places they had worshipped me before,

When I had stunk with red bills,

But now like a stale ghost carrying deadly plague,

They kicked me out,

But thank heavens for my phone-

I was listening to rock all the time on X-fm;

Screaming like crazy Fareed Khimani,

In the rudest of awakening,

Obscure lyrics I was barely aware off,

And far off I imagined Ian Mbugua,
Signing my boarding papers at Mathare

I had to find a home,

So I walked by and sneaked into the Garden of Eden:

There was Adam, sitted next to his baggage,

Waiting for Eve who was a chasing a bad signal,

And he looked sad and broken-

An internally displaced person,

So I asked “What the hell man?”

“I am homeless, because the woman made me sin”

“Sin? How?” “She gave me the forbidden fruit”

“Forbidden Fruit? Really?And you ate it?”
"Yeah!How could I not?"

That was the funnies story I ever heard.
Anyway,

Who was this man forbidding people from eating fruits?

Adam looked pathetic, seeming to have lost it all,

So similar like me we had squandered timely favours,

But somehow I was sure my mother loved me to take me back,

I had not married and I was the only son,

But I found Adam a strange man,

Were men that weak to be at the mercy of the females?

Were women that evil?

And wasn’t Adam an equal partaker in the sin committed, if any?

But he could hire a bookie unscrupulous lawyer to argue his case,

Perhaps bribe the judge if he can,

But these were bad thoughts; I was in wrong place,

So I took off, scared to be whipped,

Like the men who turned the temple into a market place,

So I slept in Kariokor and Gikomba,

All May to August and through,

When I walk up it was December and the bus fare hiked,

I had no job; my MP closed the door on me,

The city kanjo chased me around all the time,

While all the time people talked about Hague trials,

Forgetting to let Ministry of Finance avail funds,

To allow the Lord to be born in Pumwani,

And no one noticed the Garden of Eden had been sold off,

To private developers who planned to have the tower of Babel,

With night clubs,spas,brothels and saunas.

Charl Chotto
Writ'27th March 2011

CONFUCIUS INSTITUTE KENYATTA UNIVERSITY STUDENTS WELCOME THE VISTING CHINESE VICE PREMIER

2011-03-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

Chinese Vice Premier Wang Qishan

From left is Mr.Jia,Miss Li MIng,Prof.Wu,CI KU director Dr.Njoroge,CI Chinese Director Prof.Panghui,Miss Lu Ming and Sophie

The dancers on stage performing for the visitors

On Thursday the 17^th of March 2011 the Confucius institute Chinese Language students went to Milimani, Nairobi to receive the visiting Chinese deputy Prime Minister, His Excellency Wang Qishan. His Excellency Vice Premier Wang Qishan and his delegation was in Kenya for official state visit. He was received with pomp and colour by the Kenyatta University Chinese Language Students led by the Kiswahili department lecturer Dr.Babusa.

The dance troupe which had been under thorough preparations under the watchful eyes of Dr.Babusa for the event made its way to town on Thursday afternoon led by the Confucius Institute directors Dr.Njoroge and Prof.Panghui. The initial arrangement was to go to the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to receive the visitors but later it emerged that there were changes in plan. The students were informed that they were to perform at Crowne Plaza, the grand state of art hotel in Mililani where the visitors were to board. This news of changed plans and the pouring afternoon rains did not spoil the party which was jubilant and anxious to entertain the guests.

After long waiting, the visitor’s convoy arrived at around 5.30pm.On arrival the song and ululations from the elated Kenyatta university Chinese Language students led by Achachi and Koki, amidst the rhythmic vibrations of the drum played by Charles and Nathan rented the air.

Although the visitors were taken away into the hotel before they could enjoy the song and the welcome, the music never stopped. The mood was high as the remaining visitors took the chance to enjoy the song and dance.

Dr.Njoroge and his team which included Prof.Panghui, Prof. Wu, Chinese lecturers Mr.Jia, Miss Lu Sharon, miss Lu Li Ming, Miss Sophie and the dance directors Dr.Babusa and Dr.Andango and the students were happy with the performance.Dr.Andango from the Music department of KU who was responsible for the last minute fine tuning of the dance was very much pleased with the outcome.

Early in the day, the Chinese Consul Official responsible for the success of the reception was unhappy with the last minute switch of soloist from what she had seen the last time she was in KU and the presence of the black zebra patterned dancing costume which she did not prefer. But after the performance she expressed her joy and gratitude that the reception by the students had been marvelous.

Speaking after the reception, the Chinese lecturers pointed out that the dance had been great, colourful and full of warmth. They appreciated the effort that had gone into the preparation for the reception. Prof. Wu said, “The whole performance was full of friendliness and quite attracted the guests. Voicing views similar to these was Mr. Jia who said, “The dance was good and I hope the Vice Premier’s visit to Kenya would enhance the relationship between Kenya and China.” They lecturers wished long life to the good relationship between China and Kenya.

While expressing their views most of the students interviewed by this media observed that the day had been fun. “We stepped on the red carpet for the first time and we are honoured to be here at Crowne Plaza Hotel. It has been pleasure to sit and lounge with the executives and mingle with high profile visitors from abroad," the students interviewed said.One student observed , “I never dreamt that today I would step in such a palace. The place is so cool, elegant and it is hard to imagine that Kenya has such like palaces.”

However, many of the students expressed their displeasure at the fact the high profile visitors they had braved the cold and the rain to welcome with song and dance never stopped to appreciate the performance. One student said, “It is like the visitors did not feel our presence.At least they should have joined the dance even for a second.”

The students and the entire crew that represented the Confucius Institute Kenyatta University,being the only group invited by the Chinese Embassy to welcome the vice premier, felt greatly honoured. Although the bus came late to take them back to the campus, the little token the student were given crowned the eventful and what many labeled ‘a well spent day.”

Students with Dr.Babusa(far right) pose for a photo

Prof.Wu(extreme right),Prof.Pang(far back centre)and miss Li Ming(second right) pose with students

Sophie tries the drums while Freddie observes

Dr.Andango,Mr.Jia and Dr Mbithi

Miss Lu Ming(centre)and her students

Prof.Wu and Miss Li Ming with their students

The dance in progress

From Working Nation to Derailing Nation

2011-03-22T22:40:00.001-07:00

So you thought that the February political standoff between the Kenya’s premier’s and the president’s brigades on the president’s appointments to key constitutional office was bizarre? Then you did not watch the news yesterday on Citizen TV.

Unbelievable! I have never come to imagine that in this world people can use polythene bags for packing sugar as a means of protection against sexually transmitted diseases and HIV virus and as a family planning method. Some even wash an already used condom to be used again.It beats logic. And the fact that they were saying it so confidently leaves a sour taste on my lips.

From what I know, even the condoms themselves are not secure.Researchers say that these precious "personal effects" have tiny holes which can let through the HIV virus thus making them not to be a 100% secure. That mean s even if you use a condom for once and dispose it off chances of getting infected by HIV virus are still high.So if one is going to use sugar bag which is very thin and less studded like the condoms are, I wonder who has misled the lot of men and women in Mashambani village in Isiolo county.

I would have wanted to dismiss these folks and their actions as bizarre but humility tell me to practice caution. A friend of mine reminds me that it is only when humans and other living organisms are confronted with challenges in their survival that they develop adaptive responses.This seems to their way of adapting. These people might be as innocent as other Kenyans who have been neglected and forgotten by the minority political class who think of themselves as better Kenyans than anybody else. As they told their story to the scandalized nations it was obvious that they were informed about family planning concerns and the need to protect themselves from HIV/AIDS,but how to do that is the challenge.The problem is the economical disempowerment-having to feed the family and spare money every day for buying condoms and the lack of proper government mechanism to ensure that such services such as family planning is brought closer to the convenience of ordinary people.

Using a condom and washing it to use it again or using the polythene paper for making love? It is bizzare.No! It is so wild to be true. But I wouldn’t be surprised if in KU people come out to say that they have invented a better way of having “fun” while protecting themselves. After all, when is the last time the condom dispensers were “uploaded” with fresh supply. And given that sex is everyday thing around this place you wonder if the next generation of Kenyans here on campus are really safe because you can bet on it that students most of the time are as broke as the folks in Isiolo they cannot afford the condoms.

This Is gross negligence and it means that somebody is bagging the tax payers money for a job he/she is sleeping on.

Is it that Kenyans and especially the people concerned with making decisions on behalf of Kenyans are politicking too much that we have reduced our nation from the working nation to a derailing nation. Perhaps you too should wash and reuse a condom then come and give me a proper response to my question.

Charl Chotto

Chinese Bridge Contest Auditions Held.

2011-03-14T23:44:00.000-07:00

The Confucius Institute,Kenyatta University organized the Chinese Bridge Contest auditions for the Chinese language and Culture students. The event was held on Saturday 12^th March 2011 in OML 6 and graced by the director of the institute Dr.Martin Njororge.

Twenty three students participated in the event. They all battled out for the slot of the five students needed to represent Kenyatta University and the Confucius institute at Nairobi University in May during the Chinese Bridge Competition. The students were drawn from the various programs the institute is offering. There were students from the Beginners in Chinese Language group, the Certificate students and the Profiency group. The day's activities were staged in three levels: the speech event, question answering session testing common knowledge on Chinese culture and the last being the talent show. The events which drew much attention were the speech contest which was done purely in Chinese language and the talent show. The talent show was the peak of the whole display with the participants performing songs, poems and riddles from the Chinese culture.

The "Chinese Bridge"Competition is an international contest sponsored by Han ban, and is well-known in the cultural and educational exchanges worldwide. It consists of 3 events: "Chinese Bridge"Chinese Profiency Competition for Foreign College Students, "Chinese Bridge" Chinese Proficiency Competition for Foreign High School Students and "Chinese Bridge" Chinese Proficiency Competition for Foreign Students in China. The competition is held yearly, organized and carried out by the Organizing Committee. In the case of Kenyatta University, the Chinese language students will be participating in the Chinese Proficiency Competition for Foreign College Students .The students who excel in this contest will get scholarships to go and study Chinese language in China.

The contest held on 12^th March this year is only the first step in the three staged journey to China. The five students who excel in the contest will progress to the second leg of the contest to be held in Nairobi University in May. They will compete with students from the Confucius Institute in Nairobi University and those who succeed will progress to China for the final leg of the competition.

Prior to Saturday, the institute was a beehive of activities as teachers and the students dashed to make final preparations for the day. It was a race against time given the fact that other important activities such as classes to attend and lessons to teach.However,by Saturday morning its was evident that the preparations were ready. In attendance was the Chinese director, Prof.Panghui, Confucius Institute Kenyatta university director, Dr.Njororge and Prof.Wu and all other Chinese language and culture lecturers.

Speaking during the event Prof.Pang said that he was very much impressed with the performance. He said to the students, “You are a nation of artists and your performance is much impressive”

While giving the closing remarks, the director, Dr.Njororge said that the event was another step made by the institute since it was officially launched on 3^rd June 2010. In September 2010 after the launch, five students went to China on Confucius Institute scholarship to study Chinese language and culture for one year. They are due to come back in August this year. He offered his appreciation to the teachers who had worked hard to ensure that the event materialized. To the participating students he said, “We need to work on our confidence to be able to scoop awards during the contest and have a chance to represent our institute, university and country.” He further said that, “We also need to work on our stage presence, posture and learn how to introduce ourselves to the judges in Chinese; all factors that will go into helping us do well during the competition in May.”

He was confident that the five to be selected from the group of students who participated in the audition will do a good job to ensure that they represent Kenyatta University well both in Nairobi and China come the time for the competitions.

The names of those selected for the May competition will be released on Wednesday the 16^th March, 2011.

Compiled by

Charl Chotto

13th March 2011

Your Beautiful Smile

2011-03-08T21:47:00.000-08:00

Even if I bribed my eyes

Still my heart would see

The light of your smile

That glitters like the jeweler's

Priceless diamond

Colourful like the pearl

On the sunlit shores

Of the wild seas

Yet so fresh like the dew

On fresh blooming daisy

And the million dazzling dancing little lights

It scatters around

Seduces my heart

To freeze in my mind

The beauty of your face

That dazzles like the colourful rainbow

Soft like the luscious strawberries

And brighter than the sun

That light the heart

That longs to see

Its charming dazzling dancing little lights

Charl Chotto

Writ' 7th Feb 2011 KU

Love is a Concept of Convinience.

2011-03-03T01:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday during the debating club meeting,an interesting table topic came up which took the floor to its highest moment.Even those asleep had to wake up and get absorbed into the mind intriguing argument that characterized the floor.When a man is interested in a woman why would she play hard to get?Is it because people prefer things that they have worked for rather than things they have got so easily?And is chasing after a woman really worth it?If it is worth it,is it that then love is in play?All these questions engaged us in a journey of theorizing and debating our ideas but the more we got deeper into the discussion the more we got confused given it was not clear what we meant by love;and whether this lack of a clear definition and understanding of love throws doubt into the subject of its existence.

Emerging from the discussion was that there is no an acclaimed universal definition of love.How we have experienced,perceived or conceptualized love and what it represents to us is relative and differs from one person to another and from one context to another.However, notable in each speakers labyrinths of theory was that love has to do with feelings.

In proposing my views on what might be the definition of love,I would begin by saying that love exists,but only as an abstract concept outside us.It only jumps into life and becomes real when human beings with feelings and emotions and need to belong come into a mutual coexistence where they share the bond of feelings and acceptance that attracts them to rely on each other for happiness and emotional satisfaction and security.However,this view only make sense when we depart from the abstract sense to its concrete form when individuals feel each other.

Thus love to me is a concept of convenience.Why?First,I will note that every man and woman has a preconceived idea of the kind of person they want to relate with,be intimate with,have good time with,depend on emotionally and materially and feel appreciated,cared for and wanted and perhaps live with.All this desire that we put into that idealized situation when we should be happy and life should be sheer fun,full of charm and glamour by virtue of this one amazing person who makes our world stop and turn around forms the basis of what is the best for us.According to the Long man English dictionary,the idea of what is best for one forms the basis the term convenience.

As a consequence of this preconceived ideas that forms our dreams and expectations,we go out meeting people and judge them to find out that person who,based what they have and are,meet our already formed criteria of who they should be and should have.Interestingly,to me,this preconceptions are deeply buried in our subconscious we barely take note of their continued existence and operation in our lives but they are there sorting,classifying and judging.At the same time, during our interactions people we meet are always making a statement of themselves though unconsciously in their talk,attitude,beliefs,dressing style,educational,social and economic achievement and class and physique.The hallmark of these aspect which form the persons personality is projected into our minds and then is interpreted on the basis of the ideas we already want.When these projections are not concurrent with our desires and idea of what is the best for us.These people are rejected and that is why women and men alike are not falling in love everyday though they meet many people who are great in many ways.

However,when the right person comes along,what they project is taken in,analyzed and readily accepted.Given the person has what we desire in a ,then it seems we are operating on the same frequency and so we connect,that is get attracted to the person through appreciation and desire to have them in our lives.This connection embodies the acceptance of the other person hence a strong feeling of attraction to the other.Thus we desire and want to be with the person because we like them and feel special bonding.It is this connection,acceptance and liking that now combines to form that wonderful feeling of an involuntary attachment to there person such that make us feel nice and elated.But even so choice comes into play as we decide whether to make the connection mutual by letting the other know that we have connected with them and make them too get connected with us.When the connection becomes mutual the love ceases to be an abstract term and become real though we cannot touch it but many would profess the feel it.

However,this definition might seem so idealistic in a world where our perceived world and the real world are incompletely incongruous.The building up of the idea of what ones life should be is in itself an idealization.Thpreconception of what is the best for one such as lots of love,happiness,peace and tranquility in a stable relationship is an ideal construct.However,these ideals we prop up do not last when we get into the real world where different forces in life pull heart breaking stunts on us we get disappointed and disillusioned.But the good news is that people adjust in all situations.Thus in the real world we would still judge things base on our ideals but we settle for that which is still the best for us though not the actual thing we ever dreamt of.We go for that which will work for us.Unfortunately,some people never accept the reality and learn to live within the limitations of the real world where the interplay of so many factors makes it hard to find that which we ever wanted.Such individuals get tired with waiting for that which they cannot find and is never coming their way,sometimes,and they conclude that love does not exist.

A friend of mine concluded the discussion by noting that most of the time we go for people who share a lot of things with us.These are people in who, like the mirror,we see the reflections of ourselves in them.Before we find these people love is there but only it exists outside us but once we find that person whom we want and have connected and decided to be with them,then love is conceived in us

This is how I see love to be.How is for you.

Charl Chotto

3/3/2011

A New Music

2011-03-02T21:55:00.000-08:00

On air is a new music,

A soft ballad,slow,

Sweet to the heart,soothing,

Like a new wine to a weary soul,

Reaching out to all chambers of my heart,

Capturing my emotions,

Activating my feelings,

Making your face race in my mind,

Times a thousand;

It plays on and on,

Without ending.

I can hear it from far,

But I listen more,

And nearer and nearer it gets,

Keen like an eagle watching its prey,

I become,and home it gets,

It reaches my soul,spreading hot twinge,

Of passion in my heart;

It touches my soul,

A tender touch like an angel's,

Happy I become,captivated,activated,

And there is no turning back;

I want to listen more,

Because I cant hold on any more,

But to dance to the tune of this wonderful music,

That in a wild rhythm plays in heart.

Charl Chotto

Writ' May 2007.

Waiting For The Hour

2011-03-02T21:37:00.000-08:00

With the smiles and gloom

Of the moon that misses

The sun,and amidst broken tears

That couldn't stop flowing

I think of thee

Holding my breath in supplication

As I count seconds into minutes

Waiting for the hour

When the sun will come out

To let you bloom

And let your warm fragrance

Of your newly and freshly born petals

Fill the morning air

And give me wings

So that like a bee

I can fly away and come back to you

Sing to you

And keep visiting you

Like the most faithful pilgrim

To his most holy place.

Charl Chotto

Writ,Sept 2008

In Her Light I see Your Face

2011-03-01T01:18:00.000-08:00

A Song for Daisy

When young,

So little I said,

But my eyes fed on the world,

And my innocence wondered and sighed,

When I spoke so little I said,

But mama said, it was poetic and a sing song,

To the heart that desired touching music.

She said"One day you'll become a poet,

And charmed be who pleases your pen,

For her or his name will be sung to immortality,"

And while dinning with the stars,

Under the moonlit clear sky,

I could look at the moon ,

And say to mama"That is you.You are so beautiful!"

But she said,"Nay,son.

That is her,your love,when you become a man."

I never understood,

But I knew it would be amazing when it comes,

And she'll take my soul when the moon brings her,

And I looked at the huge moon again:

Big,calm,gentle-yet strong and assertive,

It waved away heavy clouds that crossed its path.

Her rays were colourless silky strands,

Falling on my skin,

And I knew it as love that begets life,

And today years many pages have opened,

And in her light I see your face,

The broad-based beauty,

That only gentle souls have,

And so when the moon glides,

On the dew lotioned green leaves;

While the stars twinkle all night,

I glide back too to November,

And I remember,as the dew fell on the leaves,

The music filling the air as we talked and laughed,

Our souls wizened by that magical ecstatic moment,

I knew I had met a gentle soul,

Who gave me a perfect jewel of a sweet memory

Whose elegance blooms only in November,

When the purple of the Jacaranda on the grass spread,

In a sensuous beauty the morning sun,

And my heart only knows.

Charl Chotto

Writ Fri 25th Fen 2011

A Letter to My Son

2011-02-26T04:02:00.000-08:00

Your Vote is your Right:Vote for Who Lies The Best

My dear son, I never expected to write to you this soon. This owes to the fact that I had had the feeling that the nature of revelations in my last communication might have scandalized you. But remember that I am your father and as a man trying to be a good father, I am obliged to have constant whispers with you my child; given that I wish that one day you become a better man than I am. Furthermore, many things have happened since the last time we talked and these events have since taken over my decision to be silent for a while.

Son, when I was your age, I took on a long voyage of self discovery and it led me into many things some of which I am proud of and some I am not. But one thing I learnt and which I cherish very much is self respect and living a simple low lying life away from the public eye.However,your total disregard for confidentiality by slipping my letter to you to the public has resulted into uncalled for criticism of my person. People want to know why I am writing letters to only you and not your sister. Sadly son, when I came to KU I got your mum and we had you and your sister. But our dream of a fairytale love voyage we envisaged had to die when your mother left because I was a man too hard to deal with. She complained that we KU men are down and clueless when it comes to handling ladies. I thought this as sheer arrogance and many times we fought but I had to be wiser. I remembered that in Ku gender based violence is prohibited. I refrained from being physical with her but she violated me with her tongue. Wasn’t that gender based violence too? When she left she went away with your sister but since then I have learnt to treat women well as my equals and you too need to learn to do the same.

Lets put that aside. Things have gotten really complicated for me of late, son. I have to juggle the three units I have, almost learning this semester through correspondence and searching for a job in the city. The problem is that these correspondences I have to rely on sometimes never know why they go to class and spend the whole time dozing or moshenering with chics and forgetting to take notes. Another problem is that my CV is so limited, barely a page and I am scared it might not be rewarding in the long run. To make matters worse, a friend of mine told me that there is a difference between writing and crafting a CV.I don’t know which is which and now I realize that while in KU I did many things and nothing relevant enough I could use to pimp my CV.I was always busy while here but I wonder why I don’t have certificates for the many things I did and I am not willing to take the counterfeits from KM.I am learning to change to be trusted by employers soon and that path I cannot take.
Recently, the Tunisians and the Egyptians staged revolutionary civilian coupes that have seen their former presidents Ben Ali and Hosni Mubarak respectively going home.Gaddafi too is in a hot sit as his 42 years of rule seems to be waiting to come to an unceremonious end.Son,since I was born these Gaddafis have been in power ruling their people the way they deem it fit for themselves.Democracy has not found a fertile ground to flourish because of them.This wild grip of power is the ailment that has plagued Africa and the people rising up to make their voices heard and exert their power as a people is the most beautiful thing I have never witnessed. My only worry is that, you, today inspired by these events might wish to stage a coupe too. If it comes to this-I believe I have been fair to you all in matters-you won’t need to stage any uncalled for protests. I am a reasonable man and we can any time negotiate and have power sharing government without any Koffi Annan in which naturally I will have the final decision even after “consultations”

A few days ago, while lost in a strange alley at the backstreet in town after a long day of depositing my “CV” I stumbled upon a friend of mine who had gone to make some Ks in Sudan. He told me Kenyans are reaping cash in the oil rich south and that he won’t mind sparing me a few coins even as I wait for him to god-father me to go mine some oil too. I waited for the chums and when almost giving up I received good amount of Gs on my phone. But before I could withdraw the money Safaricom barred the transaction. I wasn’t the intended recipient. What a day for me!

So while I snobbishly spread the graceful scent of the good Omena around the hostel to the displeasure of non-eating omena housekeeper,I thought of my lying Sudan based friend and I thought I had recognized a strange similarity. They are the same with our so called KU KUSA aspirants who before the prospects of KUSA elections are small timers doing all sorts of things student do but suddenly spring up from nowhere when KUSA elections come. They issue funny websites and cheaply made business cards they ought to give only their girlfriends and boyfriends. They waste my time which I would have wasted watching stupid movies, soap or revising notes I never wrote myself.

Mark you the campaign periods for this semester’s elections have not been announced but my good friends are not taking chances. On the Valentines Day, an unknown lady,apparently having certified herself as an all-able-leader, I hope she is not a feminist fanatic, sent me a card to wish me a super day. She never new that it was my worst day because I was broke the KUCC dinner offers couldn’t fit into my shrinking pocket. This lady friend I always flirt with thought I will be such a nice boy but on the day of the reds I went disappointing. I never took the message on the card seriously because it was overcrowded with good grammar but so much lies.

Without shouting so loud, what is the difference between these our aspirants and commercial sex workers. Some will do everything to have what they want,to be in office. They are so shallow and wanting.Most of the time this fellow ignores you all semester long and suddenly he becomes a friend smiling and searching for your number to attend some weird strategy meetings. But we have been here long enough to know the game. A cheap smile for a fake reassurance from me goes a long way in making his day better.Another such a stranger asked for my number and I never wasted time: my number pap! A smile and a lie on top. Then I went my way.Why? I too need strategies to put my house in order.

One thing I know once these fellows get into their offices they change for the better! The once illustrious speech makers become quiet drooling ignorant individuals their can never even spare you greetings. But son, our affairs have to be taken care of and every season we have to vote. It is the way things have to be done. So,however how displeased you may be, you have to help in strategizing even if it means making others to step aside and then vote against the person you helped campaign for. After all, your vote is your power and it is your right. The rule of the game is: Encourage all them who are tired, sweet talking and desperately looking for votes but give your vote to them who lie the best.
Till next time.See you and remember the semester has officially began.You know what I mean:the provisional timetable for the exams are out!So do as we always do!
Yours,
Loving-good-dad-for-life.

Charl Chotto

Writ' 24th Feb2011

Rising After the Dark Night

2011-02-22T03:50:00.000-08:00

The previous evening's six o’clock storm had made the night to be darker than the other nights;the moon which had peeped shyly behind the heavy clouds that looked like endless range of mountains in the sky gone behind the broad shit of dark clouds. I could close my eyes and imagine how it was out there and I could see the trees having taken vague shapes like huge Afro-haired monsters. The fear that throbbed loud than the flow of blood in my small heart could not allow me, however how much I was pressed, to go out to pee.Far off into the night I could hear the happy flatters of the bats making endless circles round our house and a little far away were the owls hooting in turns at measured intervals as if engaged in some strange conversation that we humans could not understand.

I lay on the bare wide mat -par-made from the papyrus reed silently listening to the night. Sleep seemed to be on a long voyage and however much I tried to close my eyes it didn’t just come. In its place was s thick pain,fear and anxiety like a wild endless fog in my heart. My thoughts were moving round and round and I could some how see in the dark room thousands of eyes looking laughingly at me. I pulled the dusty blanket over my head but those eyes were still there inside the blanket still staring at me. Lying beside me was my younger brother sleeping away the night soundly with most of his body in the cold. He had kicked the blanket away and that was the trouble with him. I remember the tussles we had all night long when we shared one blanket and I would wake up in the morning wild and protesting to mama. Off to my right was my little sister on her little mat covered with a thin mattress and a purple shuka sleeping soundly .Her smooth breath made me envious and I wished that I too slept like that.

She was our darling and on days when our aunt came for her,a strange silence fell on the house as if something grave had happened. She would cry and we would protest and my aunt weak in the heart,amidst persuasion from dad would let her remain with us. She was the chatty; the playful;the happy and full of life girl,and all day when not helping mama with anything she would be chasing after us and screaming and laughing and mama would think that we were hurting her little angel. But when she broke down she cried without end you ended up crying with her when trying to calm her down. That was her and we loved her radiant eyes, rosy cheeks and sweet dimples and mama was very protective of her.
A wave of pain passed through my heart and I could not hold back the tears that stung my sleepless eyes. I felt my temperature rise as if I was catching a cold and my heart pumped wildly with fear and anxiety. It was like I was caught in the dangerous path of wild sharp teeth of a saw that was gnawing my heart away painfully. The more the groans reached my ears from the body writhing in pain on the creaking bed some five feet away from where we slept, the more I let the tears flow freely.

On the bed lay my sick mama, the woman I loved and cherished more than anything else in the world. We knew her to be the queen of the cane but she was also the all loving mother whose love was so broad and wide to the far horizon you could walk, run, swim or sink in it without reaching the end. On days when we played the- good -mom- loving- babies ,she treated us like little kings .Whenever she went to the market to sell her baskets she could bring us delicious things to eat like the bhajias and samosas and in the evening as she boiled the dried fish on the three stoned hearth she could tell us funny stories. My sister would laugh her sharp voice being carried off by the wind to the trees away till tear drops stood on her little eyes. Mama always warned her that laughing like that would get her sick but then this would sound like some wild funny joke and she would reel into pearls of laughter till she chocked. Then mama wouldn’t tell us stories any more.

Every time I thought of mama,apart from her mad outbursts of anger at my brother and I, she was always the busy working woman. She stayed away most of the day in the farm or gone to the market.She would delegate house chores to my brother and I but we were always running into trouble for not doing them; our love for play and forgetfulness was her source of frustrations .She would give us a few licks of the cane but most of the time she simply ignored us and we would run off into the fields kicking each other and screaming till hunger brought us back home. Then she would not say a word but the look on her face would remind us of what we had failed to do and we would frantically seek to make amends .I could see her always bent on her farm weeding her cassava,potatoes,millet or maize while happily singing popular church hymns.

She was the weaving queen, always at her free time sitting under the mango tree next to the huge paw paw trees she grew outside the house creating her baskets. She never spent her time gossiping with other women though she had many friends and they were always coming to seek her opinion on this and that. Whenever there were visitors in the neighbourhood they came for her to go and help make buns which she was good at. She was a tough lady and her friends knew this. She was the practical woman of few words who believed in independence and she always had trouble with dad since most of the time she never asked for anything from him and he could not understand how we managed. She had a loving heart and it was open to whoever wanted to have a share of her love. Her women friends, the mothers of boys and girls we played with in the neighbourhood,would come to keep her company in the hot afternoons.

“Ai, Nyawegi, what a beautiful basket!”Greetings were never important. They would talk as if they lived in the same house and always saw each other.

“You think so?”She would ask wearing the satisfactory knowing smile for she loved her art and she knew she was good at it. And then she would remember. “Oh, oh, my friend.Don't touch my baskets. Every time you touch them I never sell well”

“Ai! That is a very fat lie there.”And then they would laugh out together as if it was choreographed.

“These girls are looking nice. Give me this one.”The girls would be the baskets. Her lady friend would be bewildered and excited.

“How much do you have?”

“How much do want?”

“Seventy won’t do me bad”

“Eh, my sister! Seventy?”There would be creases on her lady friend's face indicating deep thought. From the way she looked it was obvious she was not going to leave the basket. I would watch and I presumed that women loved beautiful things and would do anything in the world to get them. "Take sixty. You know I have to buy food for my children and my husband won't be pleased if I misused the money he gave me for keeping the house. He won’t be paid till after two weeks from now.”

“I know you my friend.” She would say knowing that she had a true admirer of her work who would go at great lengths to have her work."Just don’t spill your troubles in front of these young ones."She would cast us a glance with her eyes asking"Are you listening to our conversation?" then resume the bargaining.
" Give me fifty; after all you are my good friend, right.”

“OK! Thanks a lot my friend.” Her friend would be smiling radiantly with genuine appreciation like the bright afternoon sun blazing in the sky. “Ehe! I heard your co-wife beat her boy very badly yesterday?’

“Where did you pick that from?”

“Just heard."
"Just like that?”

“Yes,”

“I haven’t heard anything of the sort and don’t waste your time on such like things. It can always land you into trouble, you know.”

“I meant no harm. Just asking”

“OK.And how is your daughter?”

“She is good. She can't keep away from her brother. They have gone to the river. They must be back by now.” Her daughter Rose was only three and a half and was a good friend of my sister.When not with the brother whom we always fought with, they spent the day away playing till dusk set in. “I have remembered. I need to go to the shopping center to buy some few things. Would you need anything?”

“Uh…u…em...yes. Get me a kilo of sugar. Here is the money.”Then she would rise and see her friend off who would walk away with the basket in her left arm carried in a position to show off to those who cared to see that it was new and beautiful and from mama.

However,on bad days like this one,she would fall sick and the three of us would sit by the bed and cry while she held our tiny hands in her weak hands.

She was writhing and groaning more now. The pain was getting too much, it seemed. She coughed and threw her hand about on the empty space beside her. Dad was away sleeping in the next hut that belonged to my step mum most probably unaware of what was going on. Mama had fallen sick shortly after dusk and dad on coming back from his shop at the shopping center at ten had gone straight to bed without checking on us. It was strange that tonight he never came to see us.But it might be that the lights had already gone out and mama hated being disturbed after she had gone to bed. Days when he had to spend in the hut he had to make his intentions known either by coming home early or by asking mama to keep food for him. Such days when he spent the night with us were very happy moments. My sister would be perched on his lap, her eyes looking into his while he told us funny stories like mama late into the night. Sometimes he used to care much for mama who would suddenly fall ill and he would cook for her if my step mama wasn’t around. But the other nights when mama fell ill again,he and step mum would spend the night by her side till dawn when she would go back to her hut to catch some sleep.

The owl hooted again, this time closer to the hut and my heart sunk deeper. They said the bird was a sign of bad omen and whenever it hooted in a homestead somebody was bound to die. Mama could not die. I found myself mumbling a prayer to God to keep her safe for us. I heard mama call my name in a weak voice that sounded like a whisper and without knowing it I was by her side. Her body temperature was very high and I wished at that moment I had mystical power to touch her with all the love in my heart and heal her but I was small and powerless. I swallowed hard and looked at her. Why couldn’t the sickness just go away? Why my mama? I couldn’t understand and I felt angry at that unknown person who was making mama suffer like that.

I clumsily fumbled for the tin lamp and the match box in the darkness on the spot where I guessed that the stool would be. I heard the lamp fall down and the sharp smell of the paraffin hit the room at once. I got it on time before all the paraffin got spilt and struck a match.The fat smoking yellow flame burst into life large and strong,and the darkness receded to under the bed and outside the house.

I got a plastic basin and poured some cold water into it and with a towel I wiped her face off the beads of sweat that stood precariously on her forehead as if they were the source of her pain. All this while I was sobbing and I didn’t want mama to see my face. My sister stirred from her dreams and sleep-walked to mama. She climbed the bed and held her flaming arm and started sobbing.

“Hush baby. Don’t cry! Mama is fine, “She was telling her and her assurance made us cry even more. My brother woke up too and sat on the mat with a blank stare on his face.

The night was still dark and the bats were now more frantic in their rounds than before. Mama was breathing hard and I was trembling hard so scared and not aware of what next to do. Then I remembered mama had not eaten supper and I jumped on to the cooking place to make her some porridge. It didn’t matter what time of the night it was as long as it could make our queen feel better.

Then somebody taped gently on the door. We got terrified that it might be the night dancer who patronized the neighbourhood scaring women and children but when I heard dad call out, I was glad and happy and scared no more. He was my superman just arriving on time to help mama. It was a miracle how he sensed something was wrong but unlike me he slept lightly. He rushed back to my step mum’s hut and came back with some tablets. He made the porridge and made her swallow the drugs with it. There after she calmed down and fell into sleep. I never understood my dad. He was some kind of a chemist with knowledge of what drug treated what and whenever he sent on to the chemist the drug always worked.

The night wore on and dad slept on the chair next to mama with my sister perched on his lap covered with her blanket. I never slept and I sat by the bed too scared that something bad might happen to mama if I closed my eyes.

It struck six o’clock in the morning and mama was the first to be out of the house. She picked her weeding hoe and was out in the wet soil on a cold morning and neither dad nor I nor anybody else could stop her. We knew her quite well to even try.

Charl Chotto

Writ' on 18th Feb 2011

Them

2011-02-21T22:53:00.000-08:00

You have heard of them all,

Posing as valuable gems,

In a jeweler's shop,

Yet of no profit they are ,

To the pitiable jeweler full of dreams-

The presidents,dictators,billionaires,

Politicians,thieves,con men-

All are the hooked-beaked vultures,

For what difference do they have,

If not them all inspired by greed,

And obese desire to have it all,

To control others and live like gods-

Hitler,Mussolini,Gbagbos of Africa-

Theirs being a dance of desperation,

Each seeking the wings of power,

By killing,stealing,rigging elections

And holding on to power;

Their happiest moments being,

When they get it all for nothing,

Cruising across the sky on the dark carpet,

Of deception,manipulation,exploitation and corruption,

Sapping the innocent of their breath,

And condemning the weak to servitude.

What do they have to offer us,

If not convincing us

That they have pawned our existence,

To the devil for power.

Charl Chotto.

Writ 2009,KU.

Tell Me She Is Still There

2011-02-21T22:21:00.000-08:00

I set with sun far,

Very far in the shadowy west,

Leaving my love feeble,

And heart broken,

Golden tears rolling down,

Her rosy cheeks,

And sparkling bright,

In the radiation of the evening star.

But now I lie in the shadow of her smile,

Sorrow staring at me,

With a wide grin,

And down on my knees I go,

Lamenting over my losses,

That to no one I can give,

Self reproach whipping me on the back,

For having eloped into the dark,

Without my love.

Now she lies hidden in the horizon,

Her tears forming a thick fog,

I can't peer through,

Her eyes red hot with unused passion,

Whose warmth through the mist ,

Can't reach my cold heart.

O sun,

The lone traveler of the heavens,

Tell me if my love is still there.

When you go east,

Tell her,

I just dreamt of her smiling,

Her laughter filling the air,

With thunderous vibrations,

That sends the moon to exile.

When you come back at break of dawn,

Shower me with her sweet love,

That shines more than your rays,

Breath her breath of life on me,

So that wings I can get,

To fly to where she is,

To wipe away her tears.

Charl Chotto

Writ Aug,2008,Sirinde

To Minaz

If I Have To Marry

2011-02-18T00:05:00.000-08:00

When the sun dashes,
Under the shadows,

Of the dark eyed clouds,

My heart takes a leap,

And my eyes shine a strange light,

Into my young heart,

And timidly compelled,

By my fast beating heart,

I peruse the pages of my dreams.

I reach page 24 and my heart takes a leap,

There,in bold, is my tender young guileless love,

Virgin and beckoning,

But the dark filled blankness in page 25,

Fills me with anxiety of what,

To have a woman for life could be.

If I have to marry,

It should be out of love,

Inspired by the compulsive emptiness,

That like a bell tolls loud in my soul,

She is the only one who can put it to bed.

It should be a moment to take off,

With wings of pure need for her,

As my heart bleeds with fathomless affection,

Because her smile filled face,

Showers me with great joy I can't resist her call.

I don't want our being one,

To be a contract of mad pepper brain touts,

Painted with independence,indifference and clinical attitude,

As if forced by an angry judge to party in a tortured dark night,

And the bond we share being like vampire-like gown,

In a man-eat man dungeon,

But it should be a consummation of our endless love,

Of the discovery of the endless joy,
Of waking up to her radiant eyes,

And holding each other as we wait to grow old.

I want to,

While away miss her touch and smile,

Cherish the man she makes me be,

And miss her loving reprimanding eyes,

Whenever I derail from the man I am.

I want to,

Feel my heart beat fast like a thousand drums,

When she softly calls my name,

And words go dry in my throat,

When I cant find the right words,

To tell her she is my king more than a Queen.

If I have to marry,

It should be love,love and love only playing in my soul,

For whoever she is she would be an angel,

And I would know this,

And I would sing her songs,

Mot because she is my woman,

But because she would be a true lady,

A wonderful poet who will recreate my poetry,

Making me live forever by her wonderful side.

Charl Chotto

Writ. 17th Feb 2011.

In the Tune of A Beautiful Day

2011-02-17T22:16:00.000-08:00

The fragrant tunes of a charming day,

Pervades the air to the inside of my soul,

The world all round floating in the glamour,

Of the sweet green,

The twigs and blades of the glorious flora,

Rising ,bending and swaying,
In a rhythm perfected to art,

And the sun's eyes,
Is washed clean and moistened,

Its rays soft and radiant it sunbathes my heart,

All in the wake of the blessed new showers,

That a new life to us gives us all.

The clouds race in the heavens,

And the sun blinks with shadows and smiles,

While all to the horizon is the watery blue,

And at such esteemed moment,

I wish to create a memory,

I am filled with the spirit
Of the mysterious elegance,

And I wish to lie down ,
And look at the blue above,

Lie down and watch the clouds race past the sun,

Like dark clouds on a vengeful mission.

Such moments,
I am the charmed Midday Boy,

So elated like superman,

I break the laws of nature,

Letting my soul soar high in the heavens,

Drenched in the pulse
Of the sun and sweetened green,

And such times I break loose,

Defying the suspicions,stereotyping,

And the ethnic temperament,

That eats away our brotherhood.

Such moments I see myself a conqueror,

Fighting impunity,
And delivering justice to the weak,

Then I see myself only as Afro-Kenyan,

Beautifully and wonderfully made,

In the image of my mother Kenya,

And so I pray the beauty is immortalized,

For it fills me with the spirit of change,

To change and change the my world,

So to elevate our status ,
To that of the heavenly stars,

That in one song lights,
The way for the impeccable Queen Moon.

By Charl Chotto

Writ on 17th Feb 2011.

Behold The City in The Sun

2011-02-16T11:02:00.000-08:00

I stood,

Firm,high and tall,with my hands

In my penniless pocket,

Earphones on,Carrie Underwood's

"Don't Forget to Remember Me"

Playing on and on,

And I gazed into the distance,

At the shimmering red topped houses,

With whitewashed walls,

Standing apart and scattered ,

Currents of discontent in them flowing

In the tranquil pulsation of mid morning's heat-

Oblivious of each others existence-

And all and about and yonder,

A perfect tender and lush green,

That softly gleamed in the morning sun,

That gently kissed the fragile supple green blades,

And as the wind lifted its dress,

The fumes of a new life filled me my lungs,

The touch of her silky skin gently,

Caressing my sunbathed skin,

The sun's sugared warmth,

Tantalizing my smiling shadow,

And lifting my eyes upon the morning paradise,

Behold,it was the City in The Sun,

So much beautiful in Novembers

Pearls and Diamonds of Rain and Gentile Sunshine.

Charl Chotto.

The Gifts For a Worthy King

2011-02-16T10:05:00.000-08:00

Such an exalting moment,

To stir up breaking bones of the rickety bed,

Hold my chin and let my thoughts,

Gallop off into the dark night.

The bugs must take a break ,in their

Merriment,and the rats must pause

Their night dance too.

The night is cold,

And the chinks,

In the walls can't come over the feud

We had,letting in with a touch of love,

Nonchalant draught,

That towards my heart eats me cold.

Sorrow is no more,and lamentations pays no more,

My heart swelling with pride,

As i measure the immense weight,

Of the sullen life that smiles denies,

So rich I am,

Wealthier of memories of hard times with no sunshine,

Of moments of sleepless night with an empty stomach,

And tormenting labour,

That gains so little so brings.

Sleep must wait.for with eyes that knows no tears,

I have to ascend to my throne of broken dreams,

So expansive with junk of many things sought but never got,

And slowly in my impeccable royal tatters,

And sooty body that comforts knows not,

I have to seek peace for my haven,

That runs dry of hope and dreams.

A rumble,a thunder clap,

And through the countless holes,

In the roof 'am washed fresh for a new life,

And deep down i glow,

Happy to know the rain's warm embrace and scent,

For such are the gifts of a worthy king.

Charl Chotto

Memories Of The Love in The Heavens

2011-02-15T04:18:00.000-08:00

The busy eyes

Lured by the tides of the disenchanted heart

And so buried in its tears will never see

But my open dreamless eyes saw the pattern repeat

And I remember waking up that charmed morning in red

To a world washed clean by the previous night's showers

And plastic roses and cards for the valentine all around

And today I remember tomorrow will be another of the same.

The rain patters gently on the clay roof tops

The rhythm soft smooth ,gently waking

The suppressed sleeping ghosts of long gone days

And as the tree bark is washed wet outside my window

I travel to the days past

And I remember long heavy never ending downpour

Lightning and thunderclaps again and again

The rain never minding the rude interruptions

And somewhere in the dark grass thatched house

Mama humming her many songs

While weaving her elegant baskets.

Then I would be huddled on the far corner

Watching through the open doors to the sky beyond

The watery threads streaming from the heavens

And the rain would stop

The remnants clouds like clay in the sky

Beginning to be moulded ,making horses,cats,monsters-

A lion's head would come and then fade away

But then a woman and a man would come holding hands

The edges of there gowns golden with the rays of the weak setting sun

And so long they would stand there

And I thought it Dad and Mama

But forever inside she remained

Never coming out to see

The man I knew hers hold her hands forever in the heavens.

Charl Chotto

In Memory of my dearest Mama and Dad

Wisdom From Once Standing Dreams

2011-02-15T00:35:00.000-08:00

To be young is fortunate and a tragedy in the same breath.We are imbued with many dreams and waking up in the morning and feeling the young blood pulsate through my veins makes me think that the sun is shining bright for me.But so dangerous are our misguided ambitions that hung on a fragile and bristle string that any little change in the balance of our existence send us reeling to hopelessness and lack self appreciation.

It is god to dream.Langston Hughes was so bothered with dreams he considered it one of the few things in the world that give mortals a second life.But at the same time, I would wish to embrace the sad reality that having unrealistic dreams and inflated ambition is a sure recipe to unhappiness and loss of cordial relationship with life itself.Maybe at the time when I was a boy I had not read Langston Hughes poetry but I was much of a dreamer and had too many amazing dreams some which now I think would only come way in the perfect ideal world.But while learning to walk in life I realized that dreams were like clothes you never put on for ever and depended with the occasion which dictated what to put on.They are like trains you board and jump off and got into another one as long your movement is towards your destination.But even all this insight came with great learning I got out of a broken life when the only thing my youthful desires and ambitions made me was an unhappy lad vexed in the spirit and living a dead life.

Like any boy who lived a disenchanted life in which struggling to put ones head up lest you drawn in the sea of life's many troubles was the order of the day with parents long dead and love not forthcoming from any quarters and every day being a moment to win the favour of those blessed enough to look at your broken face twice,I built a world into which I could escape into.It was a nice world abundant with happiness which were embodied in the person of of a girl.And today I find myself at the sharp edge of Maya Angelou's criticism that "boys seem to think that girls hold the keys to all happiness..."

Today so much water has gone under the bridge and such shallow stereotype having been lived have been proven limited and seriously misleading. I remember pushing myself to the precipice ;my life as teen driven by the incessant search and immortalized by heart breaking desire to find this girl who could teach me the art of love my heart was a stranger to.Life with its endless jabs had knocked up all my passion for life which I thought if granted a chance would be enough to flood the gates of that beautiful girl who out of all would have realized my inner beauty.

She came along and today only a beautiful tale remain in my lips.With her departure having found a better life, died my child hood ideals and like any brooding cynical fool I was tempted to direct all my anger at her person for having robbed me of the only thing that I had in the world.But I thought she was such a beautiful being who had taught me to be a man and to dream again.So in the face of it all I directed my anger at life for being such mean to me and taking stock of the eventful journey my life has been I wrote a cold poem in

protest to my tomorrow which I thought was always so close but never coming at all.Drunk with the obsession of my dreams which I had to leave behind, I never stopped to think of the many beautiful things life has given me and now my heart calls for wisdom and restraint before all the world's madness causes me cardiac arrest.I ended up naming the poem a Fraudster,the only title I deemed befitting tomorrow.

It is a tragedy to place ones happiness in mortals or think that someone has the key to it.How could I blame her for leaving.She had her fears in being with a person who was still learning to crawl in life.After all it is certainty which enable us to live confidently is all what we want.She might not have thought I had the potential to be great but at the same time didn't I have the potential to be a let-down to her sacrifices?-after all human beings are very unpredictable.

So unlike all those other valentines I have spent alone cursing over she who robbed me the possibility of love and this other one I have been chasing after but can't say yes because am not man -enough, I was happy in the comfort of wisdom I have long acquired.Happiness is in the mind;is what you think about your stance and things going around you.And love?It is not like stupid fish you search for and on finding it lure it with a bait.It finds you.So why not do other things and let it knock on my door!

The Fraudster

2011-02-11T00:21:00.000-08:00

I am young and gullible,

But in all the aridity 'am spared my sanity,

And then on a sweet morning when high in spirit,

A fraudster with pyramid schemes walks up to me,

"I am your tomorrow," he says,

He wants me to loan him my life,

Promising when today is out,

He will walk in with all for me,

But I say no,for such a bad debtor he is,

Once I gave him my love,happiness,dreams and ambitions,

But he took 'em all and still wanted some more,

He never paid back,never gave back.

He is always coming but never coming at all,

I said,"Hold on till I get to you ,tomorrow,

For you are such a big lie."

When he left me high and dry with stinking dreams and false hope,

I learnt to live for today,

Doing all I can do today to live my tomorrow today..

He frowned but I knew I had to stand my ground,

For time never waits for mortals and never will,

It spins,spins ,burning and always burning out,

But him tomorrow never comes,neither does he die,

Only today burns bright,

The only investment where my sweat

Multiplies tenfold even if too small in my hands it is to hold.

Charl Chotto

You gave Me Life

2011-02-10T23:41:00.000-08:00

The world is full of heroes

But when they are gone

Human memory falters

And like smoke they are

Swept away to the dark abyss of the forgotten;

Some compose songs of praise

For them that leave a mark on

The face of this fast fading world

But when people and new song emerge

They are abandoned and neglected.

Others make statues

But with the scorching heat
Of the sun seathing with hatred

And the rains that to life comes to give breath

They become worn out and defaced

And when men become captive to the lethal

Tunes of hatred and dance to the melancholic

Rhythm of war,they crumble and splatter

But upon this page I strive to immortalize your name

That in the of new dawn today

And posterity in the new world to be born

You may pace forth

And inspire the broken heart eternally

For with two words only when my heart was weak

And my knees buckled under the weight of uncertainties

That blurred my vision and hope

You gave me life by calling me "my son"

Giving me hope and inspiration

To rise up and conquer the world.

Charl Chotto

I Want To Blow My Vuvuzuela

2011-02-10T23:02:00.000-08:00

The world,

When in thick fog and sagging mist,

With swollen eyes weeps,

The guitar string broken,

The drum torn,

The trumpet mangled,

And too sick the piano can't sing,

My eyes see only my sweet vuvuzuela,

My soul surging with fondness ,

The desire brewing like a storm,

My hands becoming itchy,

And my lungs swelling with pride,

Ready to blow my vuvuzuela to eternity.

With music painfully learnt,

I want to blow my golden vuvuzuela,

That in the warmth of the shy sun,

That is hiding behing the peeping hills,

I can blow her softly ,

To let her mellow voice,

Filled with an enchanting goodness,

Waft through the wobbly fingers of the tired time,

And drift and wind around

The trees,pregnant souls,

And let her sensuous touch,

Echo with its reverberations,

In the fog ridden valley,

Where the sailor with Columbus syndrome,

Has lost direction,the compass

Staring blankly at him

With broken arms,hands and fingers.

Charl Chotto