Euticus is a computer science student, event organiser, poet and blogger. He runs a blog africanplato.com that hopes to inspire young African poets and writers into creating new content and promoting a positive image for the continent.
Only a slave mourns his master,
so I shed no tears for chivalry,
as real men don’t cry
hold the tears in, till it forms a noose round your neck
the weight of the world on your shoulder but feeling every least bit like Atlas
lost in the crossfire of this battle of mind versus heart
one being calm and collected, the other being broken and hurt
I seek an escape from the darkness that surrounds me
dark continent, black race, black skin and black nights
hanging on the edge
So I Jump.
When Kenyans stand at attention during the Olympics, right next to their radio or TV stations, there is a certain sense of pride. When we sing, this pride is forgotten and our hearts sing out in a sense of prayer that goes beyond national pride. This is because of the nature of our anthem, which according to most Kenyans, is the most beautiful anthem on the planet. Subjective, but still the popular opinion.
I remember singing the anthem every Friday during parade from nursery school through to high school. The question now is whether most of us really know the true origin of the Kenyan national anthem.
After independence, a panel of 5 men were chosen to come up with the new republic’s symbol of unity. Funny thing is that no one knows the designers who came up with our flag but for the anthem there is knowledge. The members of the team included; George Zenoga Zake, Washington Omondi, Graham Hyslop, Peter Kibukosya and Thomas Kalume. Continue reading →
It is Nairobi in June. The air is damp with fog as dark clouds not yet pregnant with rain hover in the skies as if daring one to step out without an umbrella in hand or sweater over thy shoulders. The Devil is on a one day vacation from the heat and stench of Hades. He is in search of company from a lost soul seeking it’s way through the maze of unbalanced morality scales of society.
“Do you believe in God young man?”
“Then why do you think so ill of me?” He whispers in my ear.
“How weighs your fear of God to your fear of the fires of Hell?”
“Can good exist without evil? Is peace the absence of war? Ask yourself if you are truly at peace.”
Are you an up and coming Kenyan writer and have no idea to do with what you’ve written or how to grow to the point where your works can be published? There are many organisations, initiatives that have come together specifically for you. Most have forums where you can share with other writers and have programmes where you can gain technical knowledge.
The organisers of the annual Hay festival have set out to promote a reading culture in the country, a child at a time. Like KWANI, StoryMoja also publishes and trains young writers. There are writing contests posted on their website every so often. Continue reading →
This is for the widows
staring out of bedroom windows
hoping the last ray of sunlight will warm the side of the bed that is now empty.
Scared that a smile from a stranger’s visage will strike up a memory long forgotten,
afraid to shed any more tears in the rain as the earth soaks it up
as if meant to wipe the dust off her lovers coffin, six feet under
thoughts on her two bundles of joy
a son with a striking resemblance to his father
and a daughter with no figure to show her what to look for in a man.
My mother. Continue reading →
She is the epitome of strength
The sun from which all seek life,
Under her breast, we are nourished
In her embrace, we are warmed.
This woman works,
Cultivates her field as the sun rises
Stirs her pot as the sun sets.
This woman, my mother. Continue reading →
Maybe I am not a poet
and this is not poetry,
all I know is this piece
of me is now out for you to see.
I want you to love me
feel that you understand me
So i write in verse
with no reference to rhyme
for rules were made to be broken. Continue reading →
She wonders if she should tell him her story
for they say history repeats itself
thus we are trapped in a monotonous cycle of events
stuck in a circle of karma.
They say pretenders are worse than murderers
the pretense of indifference, the death of a joyous spirit.
The flu from a cold shoulder has no cure
as ignorance is bliss but not to a heart broken Continue reading →