Wednesday, 29 May 2013
The truth is the agenda.
The truth has no agenda.
The truth has no option or opinion.Neither does the truth need proof.
The truth does not need a back up plan B. Neither does it need style or class.
At the first, second and even the third glance, the truth remains the truth.
The truth is the truth and it is not an offense.
Maybe. Maybe not.
The truth is an offense if told with malice.
Malice transforms the truth into a weapon of oppression and humiliation to the subject in question.
The truth is an offense if told with a lie.
Its purity becomes tainted with a dirty unevenness that only gets messier when we try to wash it away.
The truth is an offense if modified by personal/group opinion.
It is watered down by the selfish imagination and the selfish tongue for purposes of sensationalizing an otherwise dry truth.
The truth is an offense when used for bloodshed. Sometimes silence can save a life.
The truth is an offense when it pampers one ego at the expense of another.
Hypocrites and pharisees take center stage in this masterpiece by the fireplace as the roast like marshmallows for playing judge.
The truth does not need mankind.
Mankind needs the truth, for what it is. Not for what is expected or desired.
Monday, 5 November 2012
What has become of the purely gifted and conscious creative minds that are yet to make a tangible effect on the ground with their talents because of numerous forms of seemingly illusive but accurately programmed frustrating scenarios ?
For how long will they remain in absolute poverty and hopelessness, languishing in their thoughts and dreams of changing the status quo, strumming their instruments and singing their tunes to trees and stones rather than to people?
Why do we import commodities such as sugar and rice while produce rots in the farms and/ or in transit because of poor storage facilities and bad roads thereby shortchanging the farmer man repeatedly and keeping him in poverty and subjection awaiting fake promises of change?
Why is the hemp plant illegal, and the masses ignorant of the knowledge regarding its all round benefits for food, medicine, oil, animal feed, rope, and textile?
How many trees have you planted in your lifetime?
When did the educational system breakdown?
Who shall be held responsible for the high rates of crime and prostitution among the youth struggling to eke a living from circumstances of abject poverty?
Since when did it become fashionable for baby daddies to abandon parental responsibility for the bar in which the 'brotherhood' is cherished for sharing companionship, alcohol, casual sexual accounts and ego massages?
What is the fascination for Alkebunians in buying imported sub standard goods and materials?
What is the color of God and by extension love?
Since when did religion invade spirituality and come to be seen as one and the same thing?
Are my questions insightful or incite-ful?
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Exploring domestic Violence Against Men - Part 1
I know am not the only woman around guilty of slapping one or two men that deserved it at one point or another in my lifetime, and got away with it. But for someone who grew up knowing that domestic violence was a problem and that its chief perpetrators were men, I am amazed by the way incidences of serious cold blooded violence against men have sky rocketed to an all time high. Hospitals such as The Nairobi Women’s Hospital now treat a good chunk of male victims and it is no longer unusual to see men demonstrating against marital abuse, something that was unheard of in the past in Alkebun. When exactly did the tables turn on the male species? Have they become a soft lot that need to be reminded of their essence through the occasional beating? Why have the women become so angry? What pushes a woman to douse her husband with say petrol, light him up and watch him roast like a babeque? What is it that could make a woman wait for her drunken partner to black out before either slashing him into chunks or pouring hot water on him? These are some of the questions I have been asking myself lately and I just cannot seem to find an answer.
That was before I came to terms with the reality that the strong (black) male was facing extinction and that I had been a supporter of the global predicament by housing and feeding lazy men in exchange for some moments of affection. I know some of you would like to call that empowerment. I would like to call that a problem, if not a pandemic. It is a big problem that men, displaced in their own roles have taken over our all our roles as women. At this point I would like to make it clear that despite the occasional outcry of domestic violence against men, domestic violence against women was is and will always remain prevalent in the statistics. We have all witnessed the history of abuse, manipulation, oppression and devastation meted upon us, the weaker sex and in some instances made our once voiceless voices heard and we still have a long way to go. Now here comes elements of the stronger sex pumping in resources to fund campaigns advocating against domestic violence against men. Where have they been when many a woman needed the same support? It is a bitter pill to swallow but must be swallowed nonetheless.
* Nyeri - a town in Central Kenya
* Chang'aa - an illicit traditional brew
* Maendeleo Ya Wanaume -
(a group that lobbies for the rights of men)
(a group that lobbies for the rights of men)
the male equivalent of Maendeleo Ya Wanawake
Bottle Battles, Binges and Brew Blues
I am reincarnated as a pure free soul, travelling light to the stars and taking no captives : Steady accelerating towards the prize so near in sight like a gallant galloping horse before breaking into full throttle;
Leaving behind broken pieces of never resting dark shadows and fears,
companions of illusions, clouded judgments, swollen eyes and tears,
Back in my blind days once upon a time I held ya'll so dear,
The cataracts fell off my eyes, I now possess a vision so clear;
Yes, we were rebels off course without a cause save for destruction,
painfully enslaved to the devil's instruction.
Saturday, 3 November 2012
Chances are that this is how you, the AVERAGE Kenyan youth-man will get rewarded for spending the first 12 of the total 16 years being socialized by the 8-4-4 syllabus.
Chances are that you will be among the majority cut out of college/ university. For you that make it there, chances are that you will be studying something other than what you have always wanted.
For you who get to study what they think they wanted, chances are that you will never ever get a job in what you studied: this is if you don't realize midway that you don't like what you are studying as much or you 'discover' another calling.
For those who 'discover' this calling, chances are that you will never get support from either home, the government or the banks.
Chances are that you will get depressed and find yet another past time or outlet from the 'normal' society that is frustrating you.
Chances are that you will end up in one of the bars, that have purposely designed for your entertainment.
Chances are that you will get hooked onto alcohol and other supporting habits and that you will have to find a way to support these supporting habits.
Chances are that by the time you realize how much time you have wasted a long the way you will be ready to settle for anything to make an extra buck or anything that gives an illusion of hope :
Chances are that you will be used as either weapons of tribal war or you will end up voting in vampires for leaders who you will never see, never hear, never reach and never benefit from.
The cycle of chances continues......
There is a very big chance that you will never answer this question because chances are that you haven't read this post..
I salute you for your courage and strength and making the decision to keep me.
I Know that a lot has changed in your life since I came into the picture. You never wanted me, you couldn't have, given the way I was conceived. I know papa did something very wrong and that he got away unpunished. I also know that I am a product of that union and a constant reminder of a painful experience that you would rather put behind you.
I know that you suffer a lot inside and I am so sorry for being a part of the problem.
I see the way you look at me sometimes mama,
I can see the pain in your eyes even though you try your best to conceal it with a smile;
I know that sometimes you are afraid of what the future holds for you, for me, for us, but I just wanted to tell you that it will be okay.
I also wish that you could learn to let go of the bitterness and hurt and create some room for me inside your heart. How I wish that you could give happiness a chance.
I would like to see you cry less mama.
I know that a lot of your friends left, and so did most of the family.
You might think that I am just a child and I know nothing but I want you to know today that my silence means that I understand everything.
I am sorry about everything mama and I, too is a victim mama.