I don’t give a darn how much people’s compliments towards me torment you and cause you endless headaches

Go ahead and paint me as the worst person to ever exist with your hateful lies and your wishful thoughts of me having the worst cursed day ever

No need to question why you stare at me in wonder as if I’m a captivating actress from an alluring movie while gasping at my beauty

I don’t understand why you loathe me for my effortless glow yet I don’t steal your shine cause you got none

But Aw! Don’t take it so hard on yourself just because I laugh like I’ve got trumpeters meeting at my throat

God knows my laughter stir up ulcers in your intestines as if my joy deprives you of your peace

I know you expect me to have tears streaming down my cheeks and mucus running past my lips at the snare of your bitter words

Aw poor you, how long will you frown at my sexiness and wish you were my boss to shoo me from your presence?

No doubt my sassiness reminds you of your unaccomplished dreams and engulfed shyness caused by the fear of the what-maybes and what-will-people-say

{…to be continued}





Hata mja afe akiwa mzee bado uchungu huwa kama miale ya moto


Wajua utamaduni wetu lazima waja wanywe zarambo hasa kukiwa na zani

Kwetu huzuni kukupoteza kwani ulikuwa kama zabarijadi kunga’a kama jua maishani

Ziara lako leo twaliweka zege lakini mioyoni daima waishi

Kifo chako kimetuwacha zimbalisha lakini hadithi zako tutasimuliana tukicheka na kufuta machozi

Tutakumbushana jinsi ulikuwa na bidii ya kufuata tumbiri na komba waliokuwa tumbi

Shambani kwako kule Gongoni Malindi ukiwafukuza kwa mawe na mayowe huku simbamarara wakikucheka kwa lako juhudi

Familia yajiuliza kama uzulufu ni la kizazi maana wewe na nduguye mliathirika nalo

Hashakum! Wewe ukibeba kinyesi kama mtoto naye nduguye akifikiri yupo bwenini

Uzulufu ukakuweka si mamati si mzima si mgonjwa hadi pumzi lako la mwisho


Hata mja afe akiwa mzee bado uchungu huwa kama miale ya moto.




Kama haunipendi mbona utanganze kama aliyepanda paani na kipaza sauti?

Kidege kaninong’onezea kwamba haunipendi

Hamna lolote langu lakufurahisha bali wabwikika na chozi langu likitiririka na

Mabega yangu yakiinamia kama matawi kwenye masika

Lo!Kasahau jinsi nilivyokukumbatia kwa upendo

Ukikosolewa naukosoleke usinione hodari sote twajifunza

Kukosolewa huwa hadi kwa bingwa hivyo ndivyo maisha yawa

Usinichukie hadi mishipani kwa kuwa faida litakuwa kwangu

Utakuwa kila kiniona moyo walijaza hasira mbu mbu mbu

Kama haunipendi mbona utanganze kama aliyepanda paani na kipaza sauti?



Don’t get me wrong but I’m a proud daughter of an highland and island and I have no hatred or argument whatsoever with anyone speaking their vernacular

I can go on explaining my ‘webbed‘ half cast scenario but it would take many moons to make you understand the massive hybrid that makes up my identity

I’d scribble a poem that has simple but merged information that gives a glimpse of who I am like

         My mother’s hometown,

The Kenyan coastal region

The land of appealing coconut trees

The land of clear blue Indian Ocean

The land of fine white sandy beaches

The land of Mnazi to make you courageous and stupid at the same time

The land of free Ferries floating like cars in Nairobi floods

The land of enjoyable Hakuna matata summer days and nights

The land of breathtaking carroty sunset sinking beyond the wavy waters

The land where grabbing of ancestral lands in a blink happens without care

The land ‘papa’ is buried in sand to preserve it before consuming them in cubes

The land of roadside lined up sisals (makonge)

The land of juicy ‘papaya-tasting’ fenesi (jackfruit)

The land of ‘steaky’ mkate wa sinia (Rice cake)

The land of baobab trees that carry horror-like genie tales

The land of aromatic cashew nuts( Korosho) and their firms that catered for our generations


My father’s land,

Is adorned with volcanic soil that springs up life

Life that feeds thousands of generations without getting eroded

You can call it the Canaan of Kenya because it never fails to rain 

The harvest is plenty and avocados are the appetizers and desserts

It’s always freezing, the cold bathwater is a death sentence and warm clothing is your cat purrs…

But should I say that I loathe the idea of a patriarchal society because it raises quick judgments

Judgments and jurisdictions of sealed boxes with labels of who you are and your tribe this-and-that

They are open floors for one to sit down and claim “unajua that one ni mtu wa kwetu” when they clearly have nothing to contribute to a conversation

Or an opener for team mafisi to claim with utmost pride and stupidity “You see how wasichana wa kwetu ni warembo

They are an arena for one to bang their chest and assume they totally know you when they barely have a clue of who you really are

They are veils that hinder people from knowing the real person behind “this one is from this tribe and people from that tribe nonsensical stereotypes

They are notebooks where someone asks you your surname so that they can do the stupid thing of starting a conversation in your mother tongue

Or “kumbe wewe na wa tribe ya nani…? But why don’t you speak fluently like nani…?

Or “You never talk in that Pwani accent” when they stand to be corrected because how can I talk to them like that when they clearly will be lost in the conversation?

They are walls where conclusions have been made even before you start explaining that you are an half cast

Some irresponsibly laugh, rub off the term ‘half cast’ and bring up the patriarchal pooh-pooh that leaves you with tonnes of questions and realm of confusion

You begin to wonder why this patriarchal society excludes the celebration and inclusion of half cast yet vernacular is proudly termed ‘mother tongue’

We lynch ‘team tribeless’ when we’ve swiftly followed the footsteps our forefathers

Our forefathers who started our Nation on the footing of tribal teamwork to shoo the colonialists

It’s a shame that our generations are shading the same dull colors of tribalism when we fight each other and demand for jail release of our corrupt leaders

The piercing irritating question “which tribe does he or she come from?” blocks us from

embracing the total beautiful package that they are


#MtuWetuNonsense #NonsensicalTribalStereotypes




How much I’d give to be a child again

Free my wild side and swim in the rivers

Run down the hills and valleys

Create a kite from a mere paper and light rope

Make a sling and aim at a bird resting on trees and electric poles

Swing from a strong rope and wood attached to a tree

Look at the moving clouds and make images of them

Inquisitively ask questions that were ridiculously hard to answer

Take a bunch of marbles and play ‘banoo’ till my fingers hurt

See the fun in getting hurt whenever I ride a bicycle

Climb the guava, mango, virangwati, and jamun trees

Lick sugar whenever no one’s watching

Eat raw tomatoes sprinkled with salt before mummy cooks

Watch cartoons and try out the impossibilities of the superheroes

Watch WWF and stupidly think I too can fight like that

Play with my dolls and treat them like real human babies

Sleep on the sofa without a care in the world since mummy will carry me to bed

Play Brickgame till it has to be taken away for me to retire to bed

Skip the rope while singing ‘Mama Njeri…’or ‘salute to the King…’

Rub mabuyu seeds against the cement and make one jerk since they’re hot

Play ebola or blada till I forget I’m still wearing my uniform and homework’s not done

Play in the mud and make models of pots, cars, people

Create car models using wires and bladas…



With the April rains, came the sprouting of her love for him

Only to be choked by the weeds of his arrogance, pride and mindless demands

She felt stripped off her dignity and worth just because she didn’t fit in his picture frame

She pinched herself with hurtful words because she thought that would be her wake-up call

She frowned from inside whenever he asked her of her ambitions because her nay answer made her feel she was air for she didn’t know what direction she was heading

It was funny how she seemed like a bright star that he longed to touch and adore but when he had her

He smeared dust and coal on her shine by the endless questions and heedless demands that seemed to benchmark her.



Call him…


He has the pride of a lion and attracts attention like a moth to the lamp

He inwardly pats his back and beats his chest like a conqueror

He can never confess his love for me

He rather inwardly die of thoughts of loving me instead of saying out loud his deep feelings for me

He may kiss me passionately and wear pleading eyes that say ‘please-come-along-to-my-house-tonight

He may escort me to my destination till he sees I’m safe from any lurking danger

He may kill the mosquitoes that keep on ‘singing’ all around us when we lay in his bed at night

He may take the blows that accompany my clumsiness when I open the umbrella

He may smile brightly at me when he sees me seated with a group of influentials

He may ask me about my future plans but I know he’s just securing his future more

He may include me in his future plans but one of his feet is out the door and I have to compete with another for his love, attention and loyalty

He may kiss me in the pouring rain and whisper in my ears oh so softly that he loves the way I smell

He may lead my way through the muddy paths so that I don’t dirtify myself but I know he’s just familiar with the muddiness in those shady paths

He may joke that he wants to spray the office with air freshener to compete with my sweet fragrance just to make me think he’ll miss me the moment I step out

He may look through the window obviously smiling when I knock at his door but he’s just happy that he’ll be satisfied yet another time

He may ensure my head is laid well on the soft pillow but it’s just to make me comfortable enough to have his way in me

He may offer his yogurt or coffee but it’s just that he had no other option and I found him at an awkward time

He may smile and give me a tight loving hug but who knows if it’s just a way for him to pinpoint his readily slut that satisfies his needs whenever?

He may look forward to us bumping into each other and utter he’s rushing for a meeting but who knows if he’s just rubbing on my face how he’s ambitious and thinks I’m not?



It has the softest of blue shades

That makes it appear to be one with the sapphire heavens,

Which has lovingly showered it with white flakes of snow,

To signify the pure, worthy love they share


The path to this place,

Seems like azure, mobile ice-cream accidentally smeared with a rich shade of blue paint,

And its peak; to the visitor is like a magnificent castle in the wilderness,

Or simply, a church to run to for solace


This mighty mountain in my homeland,

It’s like a goddess watching her immediate creation,

It’s like a natural fridge that brings cool and wet atmosphere;

That weather that we, of the other side of the country, long for


It’s a place where one realises a talent within,

Simply by viewing the rocks that make it a mountain,

Those rocks that reluctantly seem to compete with the pyramids,

They awake the practice of rock art; that art of the early man


It’s always a place to release my unexpressed, bottled-up thoughts,

It’s a source of life through the waters that wind their way via heath and moorland vegetation,

It’s a source of death through merely the low temperature possessing it and accidents caused by rock climbing,

It’s a place of real beauty possessed by its emerald vegetation



It’s a place where my forefathers still breathe and like wind,

They whistle a tune of comfort and reassurance of eternal life,

It’s a source of warmness simply by the rocks’ presence,

Those kinds that one can rub against to make fire to keep one warm—just like the early man did


It’s a place you can find a dream to accomplish,

A place you can find your real self and take life as a value

A place of serenity as its sapphire colour suggests,

A place well-defined as heaven on earth


It’s a place where an artist gets to draw its beauty with admiration,

A place where an artiste gets to sing of its splendour with adoration,

A place where a medicine man gets to find herbs that’ll treat his patients,

A place where the pens of writers ‘marry’ the papers that declare the loveliness of this very mountain,

A place where a dreamer dreams more dreams and wakes up with more ideas that bore rosy future,

A place where a pilot seems to compete with the scarce birds that fly low,

A place where the journalists gets to write wonderful reports


It’s our pride in tourism industry,

A place that earns us finance to pay back the debts we own to them; them that too, come to pay a visit to this very nature

A place that reminds us of our sacred tradition,

A place of source of unity between us and them


Oh, words to describe it; get wings to flap every now and then,

And so, they never seem to be exhausted,

But within my self,

I know that, this is a place I’ll always be proud of,

Because it’s a place I’ve found my dream; thru finding myself.