It is late,the time is 12 minutes past 2am. I am not asleep,am seated in my dimly lit room,a radio playing soft music just above my head,the neighbor hood quiet,I can almost hear me breath.Now for me, this is the the time I sink into thought.
Today,it is politics,ODM,TNA,and all the others.Do not get me wrong,the other parties also do count but for some strange reason as Kenyans you either belong to ODM or TNA .There are young boys in my area code who are so "passionate" and are willing to kill for the same.They sit by shops discussing politics all day,hurling insults at people they have labeled their opponents.
I have been wondering how these young men make ends meet,to me they are very idle and sadly enough they belong to the most productive age group.I got an answer to that,some politician somewhere is paying you to push his agenda.Sadly enough you probably dont believe a single bit in the agenda you are pushing.
What happened o passion?Ask me not.
What happened to being independent minded?
Young people,history will judge you harshly,very harshly!!!!!!!!!!wake up and play your role,but remember it has to be peaceful.
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Gabriel do you remember that beautiful sunset,you probably do not,maybe you never even take time to look keenly at it.The holidays are long over,but I am lucky to have the opportunity to laze around at the beach.I ask myself why such an opportunity,why me,then again why not me.
Life has its way of molding our day to day lives.Today it hurts,tomorrow it hurts just a little less and after a couple of months it does not hurt at all.However as human beings we many a times what to hold on to the pain,we want to remember every last detail of it.I can still hear her voice saying those nasty things to me,six months down the line,she said,least bothered about who was listening. I have moved from house to house and home to home since my parents died because I just couldn't get along with all those families that took me in,he whispered this as we sat in a dimply lit room, to ensure I couldn't see those tear drops.I have been hurt really badly by people I cared for deeply,am just so tired of this life,she said as I gave a big hug warm of reassurance.
How many times do we choose to hang on to the pain.I am a culprit too, a big one at that.For me its all about being a tough cookie,never asking for help,always brushing aside rude comments,smiling in public and crying myself to sleep,yes there is many of us but its equally important to learn to live life like that beautiful sunset.The sun sets in the evening and rises in the morning how about we each learn to allow it to set beautifully with all the heart ache the day came with,allowing us to rise in the morning like a new sun.Yes and when it rises,the site is equally to die for,therefore a new day should be as bright and as appealing to look at and look forward to just like the sun rise.
I am happier,healthier,sweeter,and lets just say,more softer even during the day.My friends say,I have this innocent smile lately...........that is for you to judge,but my sun sets with the days aches and rises fresh a new each morning.
The time now is 12:44 am,I am seated in the dark,there is pin drop silence,I can hear myself press the computer buttons and the sound of the fun above me does not help at all.Outside there is movement of tuk tuks and motor bikes,yes at 12:44am. Isn't this just the perfect time for me to write my thoughts down.
I recently watched a documentary on prostitution behind the veil.Yes the veil.It left me a taste of disgust.I know you are not sure what disgust tastes like.At the back of my mouth I could taste bitter or should I say sour.That feeling you have when you eat a row mango,the one that has you picking your ears.Only that this time it was accompanied by nausea.
On Sunday night walking along Accra road at 8pm, I got to see beautiful women, parading themsleves on the street.I say to myself this must be desperation. What would have you sleep with several men in a night?Is there any pleasure from doing that, is there any sexual gratification.I can imagine how the women feel when the night is over.
The Sunday night encounter and the documentary on prostitution behind the veil in Iran had me shading tears.Women are usually pushed to the wall.In the documentary,one of the lady discusses how she enjoys using scented condoms with this naughty look on her face,but soon looks down at her feet as she says how bad its feels when the deed is all over.She wonders how many more men she has to sleep with to get a break through in her life.All she wants is her daughter's happiness,a difference for that little girl whose oblivious of the heroine her mother is smoking just to escape a few minutes of reality.
I do not judge,I never and ever will.You know why,because you and I have sent this women to the streets to serve as commercial sex workers.When you have that incompetent secretary whose comes from your ethnic community,when as a teacher you keep reinforcing failure to a weak student, when as a doctor you let a mother who has just given birth bleed to death leaving the newborn to be brought up by a stranger,when you tear that page from a library book, when you grab land leaving others without shelter,when you rape a woman impregnating her,when in church you become God making Judgement left,right and center.Yes you and I have those women out there every night,because we pay for the sex,ohhh I had to tell you that,we do pay for that sex as a society, Christians, Muslims , Indians and all other religions alike.Only we pay for it in secret,during the day each of us choosing to act all self righteous, a friend of mine would have said acting like you competing Jesus in being holly,Interesting choice of words.......
I do not judge,because my three fingers are pointing at me,only one is pointing at them.
I will try posting the documentary,its about 30 minutes long.
Friday, 11 January 2013
That day, I sat in that bus, a heavy feeling in my heart, deep in thought. But before I go on and on about me, let me tell you a little something about my sit mate .A young man, in his late twenties or very early thirties, with him was his adorable son, just less of two years, his name was Ivan. A charming boy. Ivan you worn my heart over. The young boy kept stealing glances at the tired me. I must admit he was handsome too, even at that young age and the tired grumpy me who wanted to get drowned in my Von Clause Wits, Concept of War just had to cheer up and smile back, struggling to join in his game of glances stealing as his father watched us closely hoping his son was not being a bother. He wasn’t at all, if anything he helped me loose count of time.
I loosened my sit belt just to get comfortable, occasionally listening in on the other passengers conversations. Mostly they discussed politics, I subject that made me sick to the stomach. ”You know serikal is so going to win, a young man seated on seat 28 said, enyewe , his seat mate said as if to agree with him, going on and on. I wish they would discuss peace, the economy, the state of the roads in Kenya. For instance driving along the Mau Escarpment is scary, annoying and well ,equally breath taking. We were just past that beautiful and scary piece of art, maybe a discussion like that would lead to politics discussed objectively. All in all ,that is just me being a pain in the a….
Several hours passed ,the bus had gone quiet, most of the passengers asleep. I was wide awake deep in thought, occasionally making faces and sneering at those who were snoring. I wished I could sleep too, but it had been a long tough year and I needed to give it deep thought, trying to hold back my tears, each time swallowing saliva that would gather in my mouth from the thought of how much I hated them .Don’t worry, it is not you. I am even afraid I might have been having a monologue ,with everyone thinking I was losing my sanity, well maybe, I had and was losing it. Be the judge :D Suddenly I heard the screeching of breaks, the bus moving from side to side so fast that I almost threw up. The next time I could tell what had just happened, I was soaking wet, standing in the rain, beside a bus that had overturned.
You probably are wondering how the Friday Night Knitting Club has any relations to this, hold on, I will tell in just a bit how much comfort I have found in that club and how many mugs of coffee I have taken with those women from the knitting club after my scary ordeal.
Hey, Lillian, I just had to mention you here, you too are part of that knitting club, I am not sure you would even buy wool to begin with but I know how many times we have knit together ………………smiles. Infact, we just have our own kind of knitting club, that started way in the year 2002.Remember!!!!!!!