Sinner or Saint ⚖️?

The city knew something was burning in her and she burned too.
The highway, clotted with persons rushing home from work quick to spoil themselves in a two-second blink weekend.
Her mind echoed with idiosyncrasies.
There was no such thing as normal ;She tried to listen very hard I must add ,she tried to be interested.
She readjusted her rear view mirror and the vision on it tugged along the memories and thoughts she’d spent years escaping.
A certain sadness clouds her gaze one that her children mistake for elderly wisdom.

There’s a certain aura in the first puff,
When the indica brings out the Indiana Jones,
And her lust for adventure sojourns through streams of Socrates and Plato
All in an attempt to exorcize your imprint on her own life -to consider the intoxicating thrill of your wildness and the constant worry of it she could have done to alter the trajectory.

You caught within the pages whilst she was beyond the book.
Wasn’t that the ultimate achievement? Your endorphins rocked high to psychedelic utopia/ euphoria with each puff,

your ego by potent sense of regret as we chased the night with H&h -HBO and hash.

There are times when she tries to guess what her role ever was.
On such days she creates this saint out of you when you could be the grim reaper.
Your superpower was discovering what triggered self loath in someone and throwing it back in their face.
When the jury in her head sentences you, the theory of her imagining you slams into her mind.

Who lives, who dies , who gets to tell your story? Hamilton

From dust you came and to it you return, you were never a phoenix to start with.

*potent – having great power, influence, or effect.

*idiosyncrasies –a mode of behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual.

*careen –move swiftly and in an uncontrolled way.

*eschewing – deliberately avoid using; abstain from.

*psychedelic-relating to or denoting drugs (especially LSD) that produce hallucinations and apparent expansion of consciousness

*euphoria –feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness.

*sojourns – the act of visiting places.

*exorcize – to expel something out of someone.

*endorphin- the neurochemical hormone responsible for the feelings of happiness and joy.

3AM. Thoughts


I’m shooting in the dark looking for an angle,

Scanning for a narrative- that elusive golden thread,

I work the night shift when the dark monsters come to play,

Deep Down in the mines I’m slaying y’all’s demons

While up above I can’t face mine,

Rick and Morty sure got nothing on me.

I want to tell you my story but the details seem kinda gory

Got so many stories and my friends won’t even listen,

I know I’m not holy

I reek of the blood of the slain monsters,

My mind is a freaky combination of sorts,

The 26 letters just won’t capture it all.

The guilt of a child caught in the light with their hand in a cookie jar,

The smirk of an soulless manipulator,

Yeah I’m a sinner.

On most days I want to be a fighter and a lover,

But the odds keep getting thinner,

Lord I’m In this generation that glorifies corruption,

Sees selfishness as a proper substitution for selflessness.

Natella Abashwili said I’ll take the Birkins and the Prada over Michael,

I don’t blame her she’s a queen in her own way but all the same mental.

I’m living in an era where the order of the day is toxic masculinity

And all your men in cloth be ‘preaching biased christianity,

Making your sons and daughters question between financial stability and their own sanity,

We fear rejection,

Deep down seeking attention,

Instead of redemption.

On the side craving affection and a dream of only perfection.

This is how I take a break from my usual melancholic sobriety

To give you a poignant review of your reality

Paint a canvas with my random thoughts of sarcastic absurdity

And hope you’ll find beauty in these sad times.

If I never make it big I hope these words make you think,

For once in my life I spoke my mind.

So if I die today , may these words echo thy legacy.

Generation Z: Today’s tomorrow

I prayed for a crack not even a door because I was being realistic with myself” . I met Augustus, he insists on AG though, last year during Fena Gitu’s show through a mutual friend. Growing up in West Pokot which had been termed as the hot bed of cattle rustling was much more than that.
He jokes on how the Fast and Furious franchise may have borrowed a few concepts from his childhood environment.
He remembers how his brother would sleep with his M16 rifle in his hands , his ring finger close by to cock the gun incase of any late night attacks. And as time and tradition dictated he became a man even and took up the obligated duties.

In a town where most hopes and dreams of education had been snuffed out and replaced with the prospects of fighting to protect the family’s wealth , he was an anomaly.

His concentration was mostly divided between the intricate love hate triangle in Chinua’s, A man of the people and making sure the cattle aren’t stolen. He attributes his love for literature from the late night stories his brother would tell him and his siblings as the evening porridge brewed. This was one of the two scenarios he felt close to his older brother. It was an odd camaraderie; his brother was egged on by the thrill and bravado of youth while he was constantly and silently pressured by the anxiety of ‘adulthood’.

Back then Sam Ongeri’s release of the K.C.P.E was widely anticipated by a gathering of locals at the shopping centre, shoving and pushing each other in a bid to see and hear the results while comfortably seated. He’d later on find out he was among the top ten in his school and a myriad of questions on how they would afford his secondary school fees.
So on a Thursday morning right after the morning prayers, he goes to see the resident pastor. In a church that hails a congregation of at most 200 people , there was no way they could fend for his yearly fees.

He walked back the whole five kilometers beseeching and petitioning with the deity he’d grown to believe in. He laughs in memory of how ridiculous his reasons were while making his case with the Most High. From I didn’t push my brother as we slept to I didn’t stay out late as usual playing with the other boys. Two weeks later, the minister arranged for him to go to the county’s main town. If there was ever any hope it lay there. Bright eyed in his Sunday best, the only shirt that didn’t have a kaleidoscope of colors in the name of patches, he settled beside the farm produce at the back of the tiny Probox. He survived the overheating, and uncomfortable car ride ,he didn’t really have a choice. His stop was the Equity Bank branch. By chance he met the area’s Member of County Assembly ( MCA) and relayed his life story and how much he wanted someone to pay his fees. Well if you are familiar with a majority of Kenyan politicians, his consequent actions were to have his security team have him removed from his window” Hawa watu Ni Kama hawajui Mimi ni mheshimiwa”

He was shocked and I saw it in him as he said those words. Funny thing happened, one of the managers was accompanying the MCA, overheard and asked him to apply for the Wings to Fly Foundation, which offers financial assistance to needy students.
He’d go on to trek back 30km home over the course of days. He was so dusty to the point his lashes were brown, hungry stopping over to ask for something to eat and most importantly he was happy. He reckons it must have been the adrenaline of the news for now he can hardly run a half marathon.

With 12,876 km from where he is at the University of Illinois Chicago, I can see the raw emotions as he talks about gun control. He’s seen the adverse effects :a father who’s left leg amputated and a brother who bled to death after being shot on his way to get medical help for his father.

In the land of the free gun violence is part of what they’re trying to deal with and Chicago isn’t any different. UIC boasts of one of the most intellectually diverse students he’s met.
Gun control as he recalls was one of the most heated discussions they’ve had. Amongst them were persons who’d witnessed homicides, shootings in their high school and for him while growing up. He started the Linda Jamii Initiative which is centered on gun safety education and pushing forward education in his community. He’s most definitely had death threats for his work which he considers very frightening but also finally apart of the model story on the Fast and Furious franchise.

Community and gun control are causes that are close to him. They resonate with anyone regardless of whether it’s in the campus hallways in Chicago or villagers in Suguta Valley. His work back home is geared with the same mission as Malala “One child, one teacher, one book, one pen can change the world.”

In the meantime…

What would be your reaction when you get home to find your front door welded shut by your landlady?

Missing roofs, padlock shut doors, welded-shut doors. Well for James Maina this whole story has brought him an adventure through the corridors of Makadara Law Courts, the dingy poorly lit cell of Buruburu Police Station and where we met a cyber cafe.
Out of the abundance of the heart ,the mouth speaketh
I was there on a revision paper printing errand for my younger sibling while he was there to get his court documents typed. Ten minutes later and the chatty cyber cafe attendant lit the fuse that had him rumbling his woes since the onset of Corona.
Unajua hii Nairobi vile watu hugeuka huwezi amini” This will always be the start of amazing “tea”. He worked five days a week as a school bus driver for one of those sprouting schools in the Eastlands estates. After the president’s declaration to shut down the schools, he basically cut the last string he’d held on to.
With two kids ,one of them a class eight candidate, he broke down his savings to make sure they had something to eat. April came and went and he didn’t make the deadline for his rent payment.

Hakuna biashara” He reiterates this statement and has me thinking of how many people have the same cry. Life became too hard to the point they were eating mkorogo and strong tea. This was the point he saw it best for the kids to move to his shagz where food was available at least.
On his way back from taking the kids , he finds the front door of his one-bedroomed house in Kariobangi South welded shut. He tries calling the landlady who doesn’t budge at all. “Unajua sisi tulikuwa wa kwanza kuhamia hapo, hadi nikawekwa chairman wa nyumba kumi I guess the lady wasn’t all jolly about walking down memory lane. This time the attendant asks ” Na Bibi ako wapi?” ” Mama watoto alikufa 2016.”

Everything just went silent and I think she felt guilty for probing the man. Three days of sleeping in the cold brought sense to him to unweld the door. The landlady obviously knew about that and moved matters to the chief. Welcome to Eastlands folks. If you thought a messed up justice system only existed in the corridors of Milimani ,then you’re mistaken. The seeds of corruption are planted here. The chief repeatedly says he’s giving him a deadline to pay or else things go to the big bosses. “Sasa juu tunasumbuana Sana itabidi ulete kitu kwa sababu nimekusaidia hapa” Well they finally got some guts to ask for such in broad daylight and of course the madam hands in cash in the belief she’s got an ally here.

So it became a ‘police and robbers’ game for him and the police. He’d be out by 5am and only come back late.
Nchi ya kitu kidogo Inside the chief of police office sits two people, him and the landlady. He’s the epitome of the common mwananchi, he’s a hustler who is trying to fit through the cracks of a rigged society to make it.
Utumishi kwa wote” If I had a coin for the number of times I’ve seen this motto emblazoned on their uniform and the contradiction in their actions;I’d be balling with the likes of Wanjigi and Kirubi. I digress. So the lady smoothened the guys palms after all, money speaks. And at 5 am the next week they were in front of his door and that’s how he landed in jail.
He remembers the morning he was arrested. At 5:03 am he was opening his door to leave only to find three of them outside with their rifles dangling from their shoulders. They didn’t want to talk other than to tell him he was to go with them. With one hand hooked on his belt, he hopped to the back of the Land Cruiser. While there he tried negotiating with them and they know how to silence you. He doesn’t speak of what was done to him but his face contorted in pain in memory of it. Even through all the mysterious actions he hoped they would not take him to Industrial Area Police Station as it would wreck his good conduct form.

He is booked on arrival, removes his personals and one of his shoes and is thrown into the eerie dark cell. The cell is filthy and it reeks of all that is horrible and torturous to the nose. He’s a believer of his innocence and once again tried his luck with the officers. ” Nilifunzwa adabu nikashangaa kama bado tuko wakati ya Nyayo” .
When you’re in custody you have a lot of time to think and his constant thought was his kids. He’s quick to say he’s not much of a believer until an advocate from KHRC came to get him out( He’d never met him before).
Last week was his first time in court and he jokes about how Vioja Mahakamani didn’t prepare him for it. He gets a call and his face instantly contorts in a mixture of anger and despair,his boy was close to achieving a hat trick when he fell and broke his arm.

It’s been close to forty five minutes and he says he needs to rush to his new job driving for the Umoinner Sacco. The recent Arsenal game has me thinking about him since he was wearing an Arsenal jersey and wondering how the outcome may have downed his mood. He’d probably laugh it off.

It’s funny how quickly they responded to this case and yet whenever a crime is reported the pace to achieving a similar result is snooze-worthy. Most people will read this and say it’s an outcry of a system rigged by those born in favor of it and never those who work for it. I’ll agree with you because this isn’t the first time. And yet the media stations who anoint themselves as whistleblowers are nowhere in sight. The BLM campaign brought hope to believing that the people can bring down the unjust government after all they get the power from us.

Some will blame him and say you get what you deserve in this world. A bit cold for me but that’s someone’s notion and I respect it.
At the end of it all I want you to realize that there are fathers who are willing to grind and hustle so their kids won’t belong to the streets.

They’re the Muhammed Ali’s who take every blow and jab ,block a few and hit back harder.

Though bloody and bruised, with a personality that’s black and blue from the ringer;they’ll rise up and always deliver a knockout.

PS, Don’t let them know how much you care for only one day in the year.

Two sides of the coin

“What’s wrong with you? She’s always like that. It’s just another one of her rants.”

So I’ll listen to you and end up badgering myself with the same question. 

Why me? Why am I this way?

Don’t get me wrong,

I want to be the posterchild of sunshine and sprinkles,

I wanna smile so hard and mean it more than Monalisa ever did,  

I have a great family. Friends that are worth the mischief and company. Grades that have me relaxed about the ol’ gpa. To you everything looks great on paper. 

All I see is my life dipped in audacious ,melancholic greys.

Living by the sidelines has become the norm,

It’s become a struggle and I can’t tell you of what exactly,

I’m sleepwalking in a lake of happiness in Hope of getting drenched,

Though my luck is as predictable as the pattern of pi. 

And I don’t want this anymore.

Society has its way with words 

Try sleeping,

Yet at night, insomnia sweeps in it’s worthwhile embrace waltzing me through the night with only the comfort of memes for the dance,

Try thinking happy thoughts,

Yet inside my mind the dust of the wreckage of yester night is still grooving around in silent symphony,

Maybe you’re making a big deal out of nothing,

No I’m not. I’m besieged by the fear that this will be the reaction of everyone. Eventually worry meets fear and they light me up like the 4th of July and I have an outburst. One that you’ll later remember and justify your label of me as crazy. 

Though this happens, I’ll take the risk and tell you what’s wrong.

Ain’t there strength in numbers, I’ll comfort myself. 

It’s a disease that seeps through the facets of my life; my relationships,my school work and everything in between. 

You’ll look at me with obvious hesitation,say sorry and end with what will you do? 

I don’t know yet. I’ll respond in a more composed manner that I had previously rehearsed in anticipation of the usual responses. 

What I do know,

Is the fear that fills me when I think of telling the world,

I’m terrified of the silent whispers, judgemental eyes for something that takes over me without my control. 

I’m afraid I’ll be taken aback to pondering over why me? 

So I’ll put up a wall so high you won’t see the other side,

I’ll live out a scripted character one for the public during the day. The other one for me at night. A performance that will win an Oscar from the critics in my head,whose exquisite execution will earn a best seller on the New York list. 

So in the comfort of my therapist’s probing of my mental progress ,

I’ll think of this era’s error,

The stigma is alarming,

It’s time we realise that mental health is actually a Big Deal,

Open your eyes and see,

The lives of those around you in a new light. 

Listen to the silent cries muffled by ourselves. 

The kid who’s by themselves and never speaks,

The lady who is ‘okay’ but emotionally struggling,

The guy who thinks life is not worth trying. 

It’s not a phase, it’s not a bad day.

It’s the disorder manifesting itself in full glorification. 

It’s the anxiety that seeps through my awkward persona and has me high strung.

It’s the depression that disables me, deteriorates all color into grey lines stripping me of the snippets of joy I smuggled from the daytime me. 

Happy Mental Awareness Month!

Eid Mubarak to my Muslim brothers and sisters.

26 April, 2020. 


With the rise of Corona infection cases in the country, one can only notice the gruesome manner in which it distorts all which we term as normality in our everyday lives. 

I miss the morning chatter while in line for buses to Nairobi’s CBD as Classic’s Maina and Kingangi’s laughter echoes around us.

I miss seating with my friends in Kilimanjaro on Saturdays laughing, eating and arguing over who gets the bill tha

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Normal in Corona Times