To Fear; Time’s Up!

Some things are better said by the other person, I feel like I was the one writing this, it is a good read and real

aliveandabound

Source: Internet Source: Internet

Fear is a funny little thing. Not funny ha-ha, but weird kind of funny. It is a four eyed monster that is not afraid of the light. It will grip you on the brightest of days. It will cripple you in the light of day. A four-letter word, small but that has led to more catastrophes than AIDS or slow WiFi. Fear cannot exist in a vacuum. It needs to breathe, feed, and poop so that it can be its best self. It cannot exist on its own; it needs a body, mind, heart to occupy. But it cannot co-exist with courage, or love. For the opposite of fear is love. Where love resides, fear curls its tail between its legs and walks away.

Fear is your neighbor’s poodle that will not stop yapping at 2 am. It is your ex calling incessantly, even though you want nothing…

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Nothingness

Hello there friends,

It has been quite some time since  I posted something serious. well, I have been writing but the internet over the past week has been plainly horrible. That and some shit in this life, maybe I will share as we go on. I finally moved house though and I must admit its relaxing having your own space. With my key in my pockets I can go out and decide to go hang out in Kisumu. Eat some fresh fish and ogle at the finesse display of serious behinds. There was this one time I happened to go clubbing over at Club Signature. Coming from a place with deficiency in matters derreire, my eyes would pop out every time those jabers would go to the washrooms. As the night weared off and brains became lose following the imbibing of the unholly froths, one came to the realization that Kim Kardashian is a joke. In fact, I think her twerks are painful. The lasses in Dala would side step and their behinds would ramble. Some confessed pervert who later took me to octopuss filled me in with tales of some North Rift ninja cumming in his pants. Ninja had harvested Wheat and maize and decided to turn up in Kisumu. The lasses made o good one out of him. Back to the point though, I am now living on my own after a failed relationship. I tried my best but as they say, you plan and God laughs.

After I am done putting everything in order, I should be in Kampala. I am going to see my relations and someone special as well. We actually met over the internet but don’t judge me. I am human like that. With emotion and shit like that. Women make me cringe though. It is not that I am not open to them, they tend to have this thing with surprises I don’t know about. A lonesome life is better. Coupled with a few platonic friendships, life will make do. As I said, my cup of tea has been very full of late. I have to go back to school in January. This time round, it is different as I will be paying fee for yours trully. I have to work hard. It should be my hobby and I am turning it into that. I am honestly psyched up. I can’t wait for the aroma of chemical ink from a felt pen and the concoction of weired cologne from different souls. The laughter from a lame joke. The knowledge after every lecture. School should be fun.

As I type this away, I am pushed to stop. My new neighbor is on my door. She has offered to make breakfast. Maybe that should be a code for something but I don’t know. Let me freshen up and get going.

I’ll see you later.

Yours trully.

That Venice, A place I wished I moved to

That Venice, A place I wished I moved to

Nyar Suba

NYAR SUBA
Nyar Suba,
You were warned of bearded fellows,
Fellows like me, who have big hearts,
Hiding them in the rough allure of facial mimicry.

Nyar Suba,
You were warned about dating poets,
You were told of them,
Writing unaddressed letters,
Letters they claim were not meant for you,
Nyar Suba you know who the letters speak to.

Nyar Suba,
You were hard headed,
You were stubborn like Mboya from your backyard,
Blood is always thicker Nyar Suba,
And that is how unlucky I came to be,
Impregnating your heart with my ravenous charm,
On that wicked night you told me you were mine.

Nyarsuba

Nyarsuba

Nyar Suba,
I do not know what I told you,
“What are we?” from you is what bolted me from my fantasy reveries,
There would be no harm in keeping status quo,
And so we started dating Nyar Suba.

I don’t want to regret being your only one,
I have not hesitated however, when an opportunity presented itself,
Nyar Suba,
You have made me old,
I was in my prime Nyar Suba,
My mirror reflected three cruel wrinkles on my one young face,
As I went to work in my paper chase,

My Italian suit was sagging on my frail body.

Nyar Suba,
My people will talk in hushed tones,
On how I stepped on electricity,
I won’t be able to irrigate my throat with common folk anymore,
They will walk out at my entry,
Nyar Suba, you know I never set foot in Sabina Joy,
But now I suffer the wrath of those who suffer from the wire.

Maybe I should stop crying now,
Let me tell you of how it’s going to be way forward,
Nyar Suba, it is in bad spirit this one,
However, I wish you a great life,
You have done me bad Nyar Suba,
But I will not let my mother curse you.

Tales from our Bukusu Househelp

Life. It is earth, it is living, and it is everything. The week that has been has been an extra ordinary one. One, we all know what August is like to many of our forsaken lives. I have not heard of any politician’s death and we are almost mid-month. Not to smile though, the grip that death has on this bewitching month has already robbed us many we would have otherwise not wished to die. But such is life, all we have to do is accept the string thought of destiny and wait for our days. That is a better way of living. A way that makes us all look forward to the opportunities that life grants us with the fear that living is quite the unlucky sport (just kidding). Anyway, I am always inspired by the enormous efforts everyone is putting into making sure their future riches are sealed. Forget the drunks and the potheads, there are several rehabilitation centers

Afraid of ghosts

to accommodate all of them. The son of Jomo tried to give them a new leash of life and the country was sober for a few weeks. On Sunday however, as I dragged my inspired self from church following my way through to the nearest supermarket for the week’s supply, I met close to 9 Rambo whiskeyed fellas. Their dry bodies’ oozed unfathomed stench, a mix of cane, spirit, brandy, beer and cow innards (mutura). A pig sty had better stench. It is then that it hit me, Kasin Barry left, EABL Has sold enough keg for the monies they wanted to raise. The common drunk was back to his place. A place where merries are turned into sorrows after the last coin has been spend and the only abode would be the unforgiving floor of some den or outside the landlord’s house.

I will not talk about August deaths and muse about the drinking culture in our country. I would rather muse about botany and ghosts that are our ancestors. You see, people are weird. Ever sat with your house help on a random Tuesday and let her just feel good about herself? Encouraging her to speak out about her fears and dreams about her future husband. We have a funny one at our place. This madam did some schooling. The problem with her is that she is a faith whore. She believes anything under the sun. I will not tell you about her four thousand Mpesa story. Some thug in Kamiti got lucky. Now, this mama was telling me about how August is cursed and I kept asking my silly self, is I really that serious. I get her by the way and since she hails from those sides of sirisia, I would get her red eyed were I to argue with her on some issues. I wouldn’t want her to keep wagging her heavy tongue while she fights her urge of reverting to Bukusu when we argue. So I let her flow, slowly relaxing at the reverie of her contorted line of thought. She tells me about how ancestors visit in August, and I clear my throat moving my seat closer. Let me hear this. It has been ages before tales about ancient folklore and beliefs have hit my ears.

Afraid of ghosts

The visitation of ghosts

Last year, she goes on, was very traumatizing to her. It was one rainy night in those western escarpments. The hills were in commune with the gods and it was time for the ancestors to visit. She says it was the year her two brothers became men. They were strong and steadfast as they bravely stood outside their mother’s hut on one morning. Before the smiling sun kissed the grounds in Bukusuland, their foreskins had gone. They did not cry nor did they shed a tear. The whole village broke into song and dance rising to a crescendo that evening when stomachs were filled and heads were spinning for the unholy froths had they had indulged. Pamela had been no exception. I imagine her shaking derriere to those fastidious Bukusu tunes and quickly switch that thought of. As of any merrymaking, the aftermath in more cases than one bound to bring problems. Her tummy kept turning and making noise while she slept. She in return had to toss and turn in her rickety bed, profusely sweating from the pain pangs ludicrously gnashing away in her tummy with reckless abandon. She had to go out and relieve herself.

The terrors of dark nights have been told all through the generations of mother earth. Pamela’s grandmother – now deceased had warned her of August nights. Her tummy could not wait however lest she decided to make good of her bedding. She was sure however that no one would sleep henceforth because of the contents she would subject the house to. She wouldn’t tell the level of the pungent toxic that would follow her suit. As she thought this, she was already at the door, her hands shaking in pain as her forehead became a towering waterfall. She unhinged the improvised lock and made way to the pit latrine at the far end of the homestead. She did not carry any matchbox. Her brains were focused on the task ahead. She did not realize someone on her heels. She did not care. Just when she had pulled away the sack that acted as the door to their makeshift toiletry and got in eager to squat in position and breath out her pains did she see it. It was dark and silhouette-like. It was the figure of a man, shriveled and strong at the same time. She told me he was right there in front of her while her body relented into panic. She heard her name and thought she was dreaming. Mum was calling her. We should pick up from here next time she breaks from her chores.

Wooooi!! The sirisia ancestors though, why do you visit in such times?

Tortured Husband

Tortured Husband
This is to all your sorry souls, the tortured ones.
Actually, I have thought about you for a while now but it has become really hard sharing my misfortunes because of the spirit of transparency and openness. My password is mine no more, what should I be hiding anyway? We agreed to be one and that is the shallow depth of your brother’s stupidity. I heard you are now loyal to your heart bearer. Go ahead, be the knight in her shining armor. I don’t know if she deserves you though or even if you deserve her yourself, but as the adage goes brother, you are the beholder and only yourselves have seen your two beauties. As for my wretched soul, I am writing to rant. To complain about your ever pessimistic nature. Woe unto me, your premonitions have all turned out true.

The other day, it was a Wednesday, I came home late with a colorful polythene bag from the chain store. Our boss, the weirdly generous feminist gave all of us at work some Nakumatt shopping vouchers. She even hosted us for dinner at Emerald restaurant. Brother, you know I am not the type to turn down such niceties regardless of who the offeree is. Furthermore, I spent a better part of my salary last month shopping for a nice tux in preparation of the unforeseen date with a future someone. I have this gut feeling it is soon brother. I told my wife it is for our father and mother’s anniversary attire. 30 years of peaceful marriage as far as I can tell is close to a miracle nowadays. I have not in my intentions misused that word, it is in the mystery of it that my soul is tortured and tired. I am throwing in the towel and just like wind, I will go wherever the music sounds sweeter. I will not quit my job however, it is this marriage that is killing me ooh! Of course you are asking about what my wife said about the Nakumatt polythene. Brother, I am sorry I almost let my guard down. I found the bathroom mirror broken in the morning. My toothbrush was missing too. Apparently, I am sleeping with my ‘ugly’ boss to enjoy the benefits that come with such status quo. That I defended my boss’s beauty did not augur well with your in-law. She said she has always known I am a cheat and a fraud. I said my boss’s intellect is what intrigues me. Her bile then shot to her mouth brother and that is how my blue shirt, the one we bought together in north London flared up in tatters. I can’t even see one button but I can smell the plastic from somewhere in the compound.

I am seated at the bedroom window as I type away this maladies. If it were to be a ballad, I would name it a ballad of the broken heart. I don’t know if you will read this if I send it to your email. I am sure your inbox has a million messages right now. That is why I am writing to you via my personal space. I hope you read it. Don’t be afraid by the tone of this narrative has adapted because I am not about to kill myself. It is just that I have not eaten since yesterday. You should know that I have not reported to work today. You see, I don’t know if you will understand this but I am kind of locked up. In my own house. I woke up dizzy. Everything around me was blurry and the first thought that came to mind was how I have been taken captive by the enemies of yours truly. In the presence of everyday trauma, the mind can play silly games on you. My dreams have not been all good as well. It is like I am always afraid of the unknown. However, my fears came true. My wallet and car keys are gone, with my phone as well. I cannot call anyone for help. I have been shouting through the window all morning but you know our neighborhood. The wireless connection is working however. But I have to type this first while I await the response of my emails to my unforgiving boss. I mentioned to her that I was drugged. She thought I went out until I told her it was through homemade food. I am sure you are shaking your head as much as she did while we skyped a few minutes ago. Do not wreath in anger yet brother; while asleep, she somehow managed to call my boss. It is why my boss wasn’t smiling into the webcam while we conversed.

I badly need medical attention brother. I know my wife. She has been having this thing with medical students. I know she has been fondling those young men. They have tasted her impotent juices, of that I am sure. By the way, she has been complaining about me not touching her but since the day she forgot a used condom full of immature semen in her handbag, I have been wary of her. Do not ask what I was doing in her handbag. She is my wife remember? She saw it as a revenge for me sleeping with my boss. I have never argued with her about this and it somehow confirmed her fears. She is positive I sleep around. But those are problems that we loyal husbands face. I would rather it were someone mature. Someone she would walk with in the evening on the shores of the Indian Ocean. Someone who would make her look lovely, like banging the sunset over the ocean. Someone who would take her from me and care for her. This freshly admitted college boys are still afraid of life. They are only but explorers. Maybe it is the money she gives them that attracts them to her. But what do I know? Maybe she is just on a revenge mission. To me, that is not bad. At least she will feel good about it. As these morgue drugs take their toll on me, I have had the chance to reflect upon my life one more time. The discovery I have made brother, I hope I will be alive to tell you when I sell this ring on my finger.

emptying love

My heart has bled out all the love

I don’t know if she will return but I have made peace with all the atrocities she has done to my sorry self. I have not included half of those here for they were literally running up my mind and down. The swirling I could not untangle. My mind is still blurred. I do not know if I have let out what I was supposed to but as the day wares off, I hope someone comes for me. I have made effort and polished my lonely oxford shoes and my tux. I feel like I will take myself on this date. One thing is for sure though, that scoundrel has ceased to exist in my conscious conscience. If you talk to her about what I wrote, tell her I wished we lived in the days of nature. I would have hanged her naked on a tree on the seventh market day. I would bribe all the old women of our tribe to curse her and her generations. I would let monkeys see her naked body and scare her with injustices untold. If we lived in the past century, I am sure you my brother would have asked for my permission to beat her merciless and send her shredded remains to her relatives. However, I will not do that. I will just walk out and leave. With what I have planned, I am sure she will never hear of me or my tortured soul.
Yours truly,
Willis.

TORTURED HUSBAND

Tortured Husband
This is to all your sorry souls, the tortured ones. Actually, I have thought about you for a while now but it has become really hard sharing my misfortunes because of the spirit of transparency and openness. My password is mine no more, what should I be hiding anyway? We agreed to be one and that is the shallow depth of your brother’s stupidity. I heard you are now loyal to your heart bearer. Go ahead, be the knight in her shining armor. I don’t know if she deserves you though or even if you deserve her yourself, but as the adage goes brother, you are the beholder and only yourselves have seen your two beauties. As for my wretched soul, I am writing to rant. To complain about your ever pessimistic nature. Woe unto me, your premonitions have all turned out true.

BLOG NEXT
The other day, it was a Wednesday, I came home late with a colorful polythene bag from the chain store. Our boss, the weirdly generous feminist gave all of us at work some Nakumatt shopping vouchers. She even hosted us for dinner at Emerald restaurant. Brother, you know I am not the type to turn down such niceties regardless of the offeree. Furthermore, I spent a better part of my salary last month shopping for a nice tux in preparation of the unforeseen date with a future someone. I have this gut feeling it is soon brother. I told my wife it is for our father and mother’s anniversary attire. 30 years of peaceful marriage as far as I can tell is close to a miracle nowadays. I have not in my intentions misused that word, it is in the mystery of it that my soul is tortured and tired. I am throwing in the towel and just like wind, I will go wherever the music sounds sweeter. I will not quit my job however, it is this marriage that is killing me ooh! Of course you are asking about what my wife said about the Nakumatt polythene. Brother, I am sorry I almost let my guard down. I found the bathroom mirror broken in the morning. My toothbrush was missing too. Apparently, I am sleeping with my ‘ugly’ boss to enjoy the benefits that come with such status quo. That I defended my boss’s beauty did not augur well with your in-law. She said she has always known I am a cheat and a fraud. I said my boss’s intellect is what intrigues me. Her bile then shot to her mouth brother and that is how my blue shirt, the one we bought together in north London flared up in tatters. I can’t even see one button but I can smell the plastic from somewhere in the compound.
I am seated at the bedroom window as I type away this maladies. I don’t know if you will read this if I send it to your email. I am sure your inbox has a million messages right now. That is why I am writing to you via my personal space. I hope you read it. Don’t be afraid by the tone of this narrative has adapted because I am not about to kill myself. It is just that I have not eaten since yesterday. You should know that I have not reported to work today. You see, I don’t know if you will understand this but I am kind of locked up. In my own house. I woke up dizzy. Everything around me was blurry and the first thought that came to mind was how I have been taken captive by my enemies. In the presence of everyday trauma, the mind can play silly games on you. My dreams have not been all good as well. It is like I am always afraid of the unknown. However, my fears came true. My wallet and car keys are gone, and my phone as well. I cannot call anyone for help. I have been shouting through the window all morning but you know our neighborhood. The wireless connection is working however. But I have to type this first while I await the response of my emails to my unforgiving boss. I mentioned to her that I was drugged. She thought I went out until I told her it was through homemade food. I am sure you are shaking your head as much as she did while we skyped a few minutes ago. Do not wreath in anger yet brother, while asleep, she somehow managed to call my boss. It is why my boss wasn’t smiling into the webcam while we conversed.
I badly need medical attention brother. I know my wife. She has been having this thing with medical students. I know she has been fondling those young men. They have tasted her impotent juices, of that I am sure. By the way, she has been complaining about me not touching her but since the day she forgot a used condom full of immature semen in her handbag, I have been wary of her. Do not ask what I was doing in her handbag. She is my wife remember? She saw it as a revenge for me sleeping with my boss. I have never argued with her about this and it somehow confirmed her fears. She is positive I sleep around. But those are problems that we loyal husbands face. I would rather it were someone mature. Someone she would walk with in the evening on Kijabe Street. Someone who would take her from me and care for her. This freshly admitted college boys are still afraid of life. They are only but explorers. Maybe it is the money she gives them that attracts them to her. But what do I know? Maybe she is just on a revenge mission. To me, that is not bad. At least she will feel good about it. As these morgue drugs take their toll on me, I have had the chance to reflect upon my life one more time. The discovery I have made brother, I hope I will be alive to tell you when I sell this ring on my finger.
I don’t know if she will return but I have made peace with all the atrocities she has done to my sorry self. I have not included half of those here for they were literally running up my mind and down. The swirling I could not untangle. My mind is still blurred. I do not know if I have let out what I was supposed to but as the day wares off, I hope someone comes for me. I have made effort and polished my lonely oxford shoes and my tux. I feel like I will take myself on this date. One thing is for sure though, that scoundrel has ceased to exist in my conscious conscience. If you talk to her about what I wrote, tell her I wished we lived in the days of nature. I would have hanged her naked on a tree on the seventh market day. I would bribe all the old women of our tribe to curse her and her generations. I would let monkeys see her naked body and scare her with injustices untold. If we lived in the past century, I am sure you my brother would have asked for my permission to beat her merciless and send her shredded remains to her relatives. However, I will not do that. I will just walk out and leave. With what I have planned, I am sure she will never hear of me or my tortured soul.
Yours truly,
Willis.

THESE SCARS WILL BLEED

SCARS WILL BLEED
Blood has dried up on that shirt I wore after that deranged war,
It wasn’t really a war, but the skills I required were close to tae kwondo,
And when I recall how it all boogied down, each summer dawn,
My scars will bleed again, these scars will bleed…

To the foreheads and discolored knees,
Blood washing through this gaping wounds,
My scars keeping bleeding pain, painful truth of days gone,
Of love, love of reckless abandon, love gone,
These scars will bleed…

Beautiful souls that used to be, Souls close to me,
With your scars mine will bleed, bleed for deeds and things you never heed,
These scars will bleed for real, bleed for your lives thieved,
And for the savage adventure that let your innocence bleed,
Monthly you will bleed,
Rivers of bloodless flow, hounds of unwanted glow,
For those you will miss, these scars will bleed

My scars will bleed for you who is gone and can bleed no more,
Bleed for the pains and pangs of reckless hunger that put you on the move,
My scars will bleed for you my loves, those that were never able to flourish,
Let my heart bleed away your sorrows,
Let these scars bleed.

These scars will bleed..

These scars will bleed..