I promised to serve

I promised to love

Just like a lover

Loving you forever

I promised to serve.

I promised to be there

I dedicated to be here

I Will always be near

No matter when or where

I promised to be there.

I promised to understand

I dedicated my stand

With lifted hands

I promised to understand.

I promised to care

Never to stare

With love bare

The cross of those I’m aware

I promised to care

So even today,

Wounded i lay

when being there is not enough

When understanding taken as oblivion

When care has been thwarted

Still i give you my word

The very word

Its all about you

Not about me.

I’m but a piece of clay

Willing to serve each day

The weakness i portray

Your strength made perfect in every way

I know i will cry as much as I’ll laugh

Be weak just as I’m strong

Fail even as i succeed

Still i will fulfill my promises.

© sarah n.

I sit here missing and thinking about you
Wondering how you are and all

I’m deeply buried in solitude
Carrying on with this craze feeling
That transcends humanity

I’m sitting here holding your picture
The smiling beauty
Enchanted warmth with isolated hiccups
It’s but only thing about you
That I can cling on at the moment
Hoping that it’s passing my feelings over
And making you see me
As I’m seeing you in my heart

My dear, your picture can’t talk to me
It just stands like a statue
Carved out of a soapstone, that it smiles permanently
I can only think that you are also in my world
Sharing my feelings, emotions, tears and empty smiles

But when we meet, we look at each other
With an ostentation hatred
Coupled with pregnant silence
That it looks and feels like a graveyard

Though I love and want you
Would die and breathe for you,
I still feel an empty loneliness a suspicious hatred
Like an empty hollow log
Exhaling from your heart, mind and soul

© mburu kamau

Is it in the beauty of flowers?
Or in the silence of the hour
Is it in the sweetness of the sun shine?
Where art thou mine love?

I’ve searched for you in the forest
Intently without rest
I’ve searched in the waters of the sea
Still my eyes are yet to see
Where art thou my love?

Now i know where you dwell
Certainly, not at the well
Where women tell stories
This i know for sure
Your hiding place i will not tell.

© sarah n.

Two weeks ago a girlfriend of mine and her fiancé arranged a little get together for a bunch of their closest friends. They just said that there was something special they wanted to share with us. So at four we started arriving and by five everyone was there. We got to chatting and catching up and the evening progressed with lots of laughter and warm fuzziness. Sometime around six thirty another of my girlfriends asked what the couple wanted to tell us. They are expecting a child. She or he will arrive sometime early next year. We were all so exited. This will be the first baby for our group of friends. We got to guessing what it will be and started thinking up the weirdest names possible. When we were calmer, it finally dawned on us that this marked the beginning of the next stage of our lives. Most of us, especially the girls, thought it will be the most exiting time of our lives. What, with all the shenanigans we’ll go through ‘cause of our kids? Who wouldn’t want that? The boys thought it will be the scariest, especially ‘cause of the questions the kids are bound to ask. They concluded that the worst one would come from their daughters and it would be, “Daddy, what is sex?” I agree.

The last thing a father would want to hear from his daughter is “Daddy, let’s talk about sex!” The first thing I imagine would be the attack of utter shock. Then comes the question of how your, let’s say 12 year old, knows that a thing like sex exists. Isn’t she supposed to find that out when she’s 50?! Then finally comes the question of what you should tell her. Scary, huh? For the father anyway. The daughter probably knows more about it than you think or she’s ready to admit. At the rate kids are growing up these days, at 12 she’s probably had it too. Calm down, you won’t be able to kill the idiot who she did it with if you have a heart attack now! So what does a father do when he realises his daughter knows and has probably had sex?

First of all you need to accept that your daughter is going to have sex some day. You also have to accept that she’ll learn about it one way or another, and the other way might give her all the wrong notions. It’s best that this information comes from a reliable source, so stop reading the paper. That’s right. Stop reading the paper, put it aside and listen to the questions she is about to ask. If you are too embarrassed to talk to her about it, ask her to kindly ask her mother or an aunt. Yet if she came to you, she wants to hear it from you. I think it’s hard for Dads to accept that their daughters are sexual beings than it is for them to think the same about their sons because seeing some one of the same sex as a sexual being is easier. Why? Because your mind tells you that they probably have the same thoughts as you. This is usually true. That’s how come if you went to a mother of a 16 year old girl and told her that her daughter was having sex, they would not be surprised much. As long as you don’t tell her that her daughter is pregnant too. The Mum won’t be surprised much because women are better equipped to deal with the reality of sex than men. And she was probably doing it at 16 too so…

So why do Dads insist on their daughters remaining their little angels until she is married? First of all, we are angels. Second, psychology and biology combine to prevent fathers viewing their daughters as women because three, it is dangerous. I mean, can you imagine how many girls would be raped by their Dads if they didn’t remain little girls in their fathers’ eyes? It makes it easier for both parties. Plus girls are equipped with the special ability to suddenly transform into angels when Daddy shows up. Think of the class bitch. Now think of how nice she is to everyone at school events when her Dad attends. It’s a beautiful thing to see. It’s also down right scary!

So, what exactly do you tell her? What do you not tell her? The thing you have to keep in mind is not to lie to her. Or scare her. Tell her the truth as gently as possible without going into embarrassing mechanics. Tell her that sex is a beautiful physical expression of love. Let her discover the pleasure part on her own. Tell her that it feels good and that she’ll probably want to do it over and over again but that she should only do it if and when she wants to. To scare her a little, tell her that the culmination of this act of love is a child. That oughta get her! Tell her that boys and men will be very cunning and will try to get her to bed as hard as they can. Give her an example of the things they’ll do or say and tell her to be wary of such happenings. Tell her that if and when she finally falls in love with someone, the physical part of that love will be very natural and will be the best sex she’ll ever have so she should wait for that. Then send her to her mother or aunt or grandmother to explain the mechanics.

I doubt the boys will ask their Mums and I bet the Dads will be more comfortable with the boys. But in case you are a single Mum to a boy, start training for that conversation and many more scary ones. It’s also very good to have a trustworthy male in your life that you can send your son to for the more embarrassing parts and the mechanics. The best thing about telling your kids about all this ‘grown up stuff’ that is so mysterious to them, is that you can rest easy knowing that they have the right information and won’t go doing stupid things just to see what happens. “Uuuuh… What does this button do?” Label the buttons.

© afra njoki

I saw her in my dreams,
Light colored and crimson lips.
The smoothest, darkest hair she had,
thinking about her now drives me mad.
Blood flow faster, my heart beat hard
Blood start boiling, my manhood hard
Lame I’d always been with the ladies,
And never had one to call my baby.
Her on the other hand, had been good in relationships,
But tonight had no captain for her ship.
Approached me seeing no one by my side,
Calmly said ‘Hi’ and spiced it with a wink of an eye,
Saw I was shy, Told me to be calm and just enjoy the ride.
She put her hand on my chest as if to straighten my tuxedo
My face bent over and she asked me to be her hero.
I pulled back and looked across the room.
She said”Whoever you’re looking for wont come anytime soon”
But I was just regaining my composure
Because my blood was boiling over
That’s when I looked into her eyes, Those big brown eyes
Then put my lips and hers into union,
Left the rest to oblivion.

© arthur mbugua

It was my first time. She had done it before. She was going to be my teacher. We proceeded to undress, and then we kissed and got into position. When I entered her she exhaled so loudly I figured that she must definitely be in pain and if she hadn’t insisted I go on, I would have stopped there and then.

Anyway, I was inside and I didn’t know how to proceed but then she showed me how to do the in and out pumping motion. I was slow at first but then I picked up the pace after she screamed “do it faster”.  She started gritting her teeth and shouting obscenities all the while pushing her body hard against mine. I thought I was hurting her so I stopped. She didn’t seem to like that because she slapped me and hurled further obscenities my way. ‘Sex must be very complicated’, I thought. Here was a person who was clearly not enjoying it but still wanted to go through with it as if it was an obligation. So we continued and the faster I did it the louder she became and the deeper she dug her nails into my back. Suddenly her face became contorted and she started screaming that she was coming and her body started bucking like a horse’s.

She went quiet after that and then started moaning softly and talking to herself. After some time she thanked me and told me that she’d had such a great time but I knew she was lying. She had to be. To be honest that woman really suffered but I have to hand it to her, she hid it well. I’ll consult widely before we do it next time because I want her to take as much pleasure as she can from the whole experience.

© james wamathai

Compared to you, I’m a failure.
You’ve got success and you’re popular,
For me, less is more… regular.

Compared to you, I am weak.
You’ve stood up and fought for what you believe in,
While I folded my arms and just took the abuse.

Compared to you, I’m the ‘played one’.
You made all the right choices,
Followed your instinct, while I didn’t.

Compared to you, I’m a ‘little’ faint.
You can effortlessly say the ‘hurtful’ words to me,
I don’t even have the gut to tell you the sweet ones in me.

Compared to you, I’m stuck in the past.
You smile, laugh and enjoy yourself everyday,
I do so too, only I still think of you.

© Arthur Mbugua

I look upon the ages and the years that I am turning.
I never made the money nor the fame, am still yearning.
I have been through a lot but my mind is still learning.
The fire that’s the fuel for my will is still burning.

But every step I take its like my path is getting steeper.
The rivers of my consciousness are still running deeper.
And every time am running am racing the grim reaper.
The devil’s getting richer and my soul is getting cheaper.

They wanna call the shots but ad rather be the shotter.
Ad rather make a future for my son and daughter.
Cos every time am cool the situation gets hotter.
They wanna tie my hands n feet n lead me to the slaughter.

To me its more than music its the rhythm of my soul, man.
Am versatile with different strokes like Gary Coleman.
Life is a drama, I just try to play my role, man.
Spiritual and intellectual flow for all man.

I rhyme as if am made of it. Spit as if am paid for it.
Write with so much passion like am kissed and getting laid 4 it.
Take it to the level I perceive it is the day of it.
Made it my religion so I fast and even pray for it.

She’s in rage with my wage she wants a man with a salary.
She wants her features on the pictures on the gallery.
My soul wants to dismember me,
knowing that I gave my all but she’ll not even remember me.

And after all is done, they will look upon this son.
They’ll point fingers in the air like they r mimicking a gun.
And a voice shall speak, a visible sign to the eye, and a final revelation…

I am number one!

© jemedari

Ana sura na umbo la ajabu, isitoshe macho ya kiarabu.
Nyanja zake si za wenye taabu,
dhambi tele hata akizificha na hijabu!
Ombi lake laudhi, kujitosa hana budi,
kwa uvumba kisha udi, kukubaliwa ndo zake juhudi.
Anaamini na laki,
kwake raha zatamaliki,
kwake, ndo haki..

Sauti zao ndo kwake mizani,
dunia kiutani anaipima uzani.
Ana uraibu ela hana aibu.
Kwake mambo nadhifu,
fujo zenyu kwake hafifu.
Hutamshtaki, kwake ndio haki..

Hataki pingu za maisha, wazo hilo kwake latisha!
Kwa hivyo yupo kizimbani bila hata dirisha, akiomba yataisha.
Pete si kwa lake chanda, heri utamani tu kumpanda.
Wengi kitanzi wanawaza kwa lake penzi mkanda!
Kwake nyuma hatabaki,
kwake ndio haki..

Ana fikra za kutisha.
Kila yuazini yuahisi mumewe yuabisha.
Jamii yuaaibisha, ndoa kuitaifisha, itakuwaje kisha?
Hapawi talaka, yeye ndo yuatalaki,
kwake ndio haki..

Ana chuki binafsi, kafanya mzinga wa nyuki binafsi ndio ale uki binafsi!
Ni mchoyo, hasitiri nafsi. Hafichi, haridhiki basi, tumfanye nini nasi?
Maisha yuapenda kasi, kicheche moto wa pasi. Nimemaka adinasi!

Zake tena sigusi, moyo mweusi, kamusi -
matusi, sifa mbovu kaskazi na kusi!
Havikuanza juzi, nadhani ni upuzi,
kagundua kuna mfupa kwenye mchuzi?
Hataki! Kwake ndio haki..
Mkanda wako ndo wake uzi,
ya kesho yuataka juzi, hisia hazileti mchuzi,
vichekesho ni upuzi, kila neno kwake ni ushuzi!

Utapita na upepo, ashapandwa nazo pepo,
ndoto za mizimwi, moto ni kama hauzimwi!
Maisha kipanya, fikra za kuchanganya.
Hasemezewi, na hata akisema simwelewi!
Haogelei na ni samaki? Sawa, kwake ndio haki..

© jemedari

Why me, is it because

I’m neither hot or cold or is it because

I’m neither a saint nor a robber.

Then tell me,

Why me?

Is it because I did all you asked?

Is it because I too had my ambitions,

Or is it because I betrayed you?

Then tell me,

Why does it have to be always me?

And not another soul

For my soul has had enough

Of your torment and seeks Rest

For even my conscience is betraying me

Killing me slowly and yet you haven’t answered me.

© edward gichuho