On My Knees, I Stand

I am a rock,
Unmoving,
  Unconforming,
   A formidable force.

I am a rock,
Strong,
  Unforgiving,
    Impenetrable.

I am a rock,
I do not cry,
  Love is a four letter word,
   Excluded from my dictionary.

I am a rock,
Unchanging,
  Set in my ways,
   I will not be moved,
    I will not be changed,
     I will not depend on anyone.

    But I am a man,
   Broken,
  Weak,
The last thing I can do is stand on my own two feet.

    I am a man,
   Imperfect,
  At the mercy of mere emotion.

      They tell me what to be,
   They tell me not to be a man.
  Don’t cry, they say,
Always on your feet, never on your knees, they say.

But I am a man,
A man on his knees.

I am a man,
Asking for mercy,
Asking for forgiveness.

I am a man and I surrender,

I am a man begging you to change me, Lord.
Teach me the love that would send a king to a cross for a person undeserving; for me.
Give me a heart of flesh, Lord,
Move me!! Draw me closer to you.
I want to be used by you
I depend on you.
For everything.

 

What She Wrote

She poised the pen above the paper. She couldn’t decide what to write. A thousand thoughts filled her head. Which one? Which story would she tell?
And she began:

I love you, she said.
As do I, he said.
But we mustn’t, she cried.
Heaven forbid,why not? he exclaimed.

She nibbled at the end of the pen before crossing out the lines written. That story would have to be told someday , but not then; it was simply not the right time.

   She conjured the image of a    frightened girl; lost and confused. Humanity had reared it’s ugly head. Innocent, blameless, she nursed it’s vicious bite. Would it ever heal? She doesn’t know. All she knows is that it hurt. She has faced the worst kind of betrayal. She was made an object. A thing. Used and disposed of. Human is the last thing she feels. Dirty is all she considers herself to be.

She stared at the words on the page but couldn’t bring herself to write anything more. She crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor alongside other ‘groundbreaking ideas’.

Sleep clouded her thoughts but she struggled against it’s pull. She had to write something! Before the clock struck midnight, she had to put something down! Considering she had a lengthy email to reply to from a far off place, she opted to document what she thought. Sleep draws her in and she can’t speak of the man sitting under a tree nor can she tell of the dark crevices of a man’s soul. No, slumber embraces her smoothly and she must bid you adieu before…before. Goodnight.

A Poet’s Heart

It’s not like any other,
It strives to make the world understand,
All the while seeking an answer to only one question, why?!
A poet’s heart must speak,
It must reach out,
From one soul to another,
Seeking to change the world, with one word, one desire, one expression.

A poet’s heart knows pain,
It knows sorrow,
Despair, it’s native language,
A poet’s heart seeks out beauty in the world,
It glories at the cool morning dew on a perfect rose,
It joys in the phenomena of the morning sun,
It seeks the greatest of beauties, love.

A poet’s heart is broken,
It sees things differently,
It does not bow to rules,
It never forgets pain nor it’s giver,
It can only hope that a greater pain,
A greater joy will eclipse the former.

And yet it thrives on a hope that supercedes emotion,
It clings to the promise of peace,
The promise of a day when life as we know it shall no longer be,
When a poet’s heart shall be made whole by a love only One can give,
One not bound by humanity,
But One who died to set us free.

    

Where The Heart Is

My culture shock just went to the next level. I’ve been to boarding school for 7 years!!! And yet here I am, home sick.

I miss the sun,
I miss the clear night sky,
I miss the humidity ( but my hair doesn’t )
I miss the irritating coasterian accent! ( never thought I’d say this)
I miss the freedom of being home,
I miss my dogs!! (Really, really, really)
I miss church,
I miss my friends,
I miss random conversations with my mum,
I miss laughing at my dad’s attempt at dancing,
I miss goofing off with my sister…

Oh, who am I kidding?!
I’m going home!!!!!

I Dare You To See Me

I was all set to write a nice upbeat post! All that changed after listening to one of Adele’s song. I blame whatever you are about to read completely on her. ( Isn’t she awesome?! ) .

You look at me, but you don’t see me,
You know me, yet you don’t know my heart.
I have a secret and you can’t tell what it is.
It’s hidden deep inside, maybe too deep.

I swallowed it, like the bitter pill it was,
Embittered by destiny, by time,
Would it ever have been sweet? I don’t know, I’ll never know.
If things would have been different, if we had met earlier or maybe later, if I had been honest, if you had seen me, like I saw you… where would we be today?

No one knows, I’m sure of it.
Sometimes, I make myself forget, and for all of the 5 seconds, I have no secret,
Then I take another breath and my heart beats again and I know that I could never really forget.
My secret is safe, unless the dark betrays me and my tear-stained pillow tells a story, of which, I had sworn it to secrecy.

Now I sit across you in a restaurant, you, smiling from ear to ear, me fighting back tears.
You are going to marry her, you say. I smile and say words that I don’t even recognize. I smile and a tear falls. I’m just happy, I say. You look at me quizzically but pay me no mind. How could you not see me?? I’m right in front of you!! Loving you.
How could you not hear my heart?! All these years!How could you not hear my love? All these years, how could you not hear my heart breaking? How can you not hear it now?

( today was an interesting day. I got hit by Cart. I’m serious. And I’m still smarting 😦 )

Let’s Talk Telly

Let’s face it; television takes up a lion’s share of the average Kenyan’s time. Most of my time is spent with either series or movies except, of course, for when I need a break or that sad moment when there’s nothing to watch. That, practically makes me a professional! I have years of experience! ;). Ahem. You had better take into account what I say, being a pro and all…

1. Shree.
I tried to watch it! I really did!!  But that program is freaky! Even when channel surfing, I can’t miss the girl with saucer-wide eyes and flying hair having a weird monologue.  Plus, they are either in the sitting room or bedroom. We appreciate KTN for bringing some Indian flavour to the table but….(I never thought I’d say this) KBC did it better. They used to bring some two Indian shows. It was Kyunki Saas….bibahuthi (don’t know how it’s written but I still remember the theme song) and Kahani …gagaiti (still singing the theme song). Those were interesting!!

2. Phillipino Hour.
The number of Phillipino programs being aired throughout Kenya is simply ridiculous! Did the government decide that we don’t know enough about the phillipines? Or maybe the Ministry of Culture wanted to diversify the kind of names being given to the coming generation ? Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a conspiracy by the Divorce Lawyers Society? I must admit, it’s a good way to earn a pretty penny.
Soaps *gag* are not what they used to be. It’s either recycled storylines or a really twisted storyline that gives me a headache just thinking it through. (It turns out Jose’s father is not his real father then he finds out his Nemesis is his father, meaning that he slept with his sister..but wait!! His mother’s not his mother either!! She faked her pregnancy and stole her sister’s baby and all of a sudden, Jose’s father is a rich tycoon **dramatic gasp**)  *breathe* please pass the asprin.  

3. All Kenyan, all the time… or so you’d think!
Kenyan programs have come a long way from Vioja Mahakamani and Tausi …although I liked Tausi, even if I didn’t understand all the kiswahili.
There are shows that I haven’t really watched so I can’t comment on them. It might also be that I watched the show but nothing really registered about the show. An example would be Higher Learning . What is it about?!? I liked the concept but bringing it out has been the problem. I’ve watched it about two times.  I’ll give it a pass. Though not good, it doesn’t suck. And that’s saying something.
Why do people like Tahidi High? This is an honest question! I guess I’m not the targeted demographic because I just don’t get it. The music needs work, the sound….can someone say overacting?!
The same goes for Mother-in-law . *sigh*
All I think about while watching these shows is yelling ‘Cut! Enough kidding about people! Would you actually read the script this time? Thank you. Now, action!’
The writer in me yearns to rewrite those scripts. Seriously! Someone give me a test run! It couldn’t possibly be worse than what’s already showing.
Don’t think I forgot about Changing Times. This one is just special. It also has a lot of potential but the acting *cringe* we have a mix of Super Barbies with their accents, average Joes and a guy who will only speak on sheng/kiswahili. Dear script writer, DECIDE! It’s like mixing the Bold and the Beautiful with My wife and kids and Being Erica (kinda). It’s just confusing.
So do I have something positive to say about Kenyan TV? Just two words; Briefcase Inc. Sure, I have my quelms about it but it makes me smile. ( how do you look for a name for the company for over a month? Mr. Scriptwriters, keep the story moving ). Still, it’s well written.

I must be a directing consultant one of these fine days!! It’s my destiny ;). Or else these programs will keep on irking me! This way, I might enjoy a day of quality Kenyan television someday in future.
    

When In Rome

I was born and brought up in Mombasa. Save for my stints at boarding school,  the Coasterian way of life is the only one I’ve ever know. Don’t jump to the idea of me eating rice with my hands while I sit on the floor; it has been a hybrid kind of life. As you know, school offers a tempered condition so it did not prepare me for what I am currently going through. As of a minute ago, I have concluded that what I am suffering from is culture shock.

Mombasa has a large variety of cultures, and as one would expect, people have had to find a middle ground, a new culture of sorts. Kiswahili, as a language, dominates but English has always been my primary language.
I find Coasterians to be quite welcoming as compared to the people of the Cool waters. Plus, I don’t care what anyone says, I love the pace of life!!

Then there is Nairobi ……. To begin with, I basically live in Kikuyu central. I went to the market, not SUPERmarket, not grocery shop …MARKET. Everyone was speaking the golden language! The good news is, I now understand exactly what it means to stick out like a sore thumb. (Yes, at my height).
Do you know that moment when you’ve decided to turn in? When you have just switched off the television and for a while, everything is completely silent? I don’t know about you but i usually hear a monotonous hum. That’s what I heard the whole time as I sludged through mud from one stand to another.
 
On that day, I learnt never to mess with anyone’s veggie pyramid.  They get really testy and may give you an evil eye as they mutter something in a language you don’t understand, after which you can only utter a lame ‘Sorry.’

Minutes after entering a hair salon, I was handed a baby. Okay, I accept the fact that I am obsessive about detail. If I had known I would be handling a baby, I would have taken the necessary precautions. Relax! No one died. But seriously, I wouldn’t give my kid willy nilly to a stranger. Furthermore,why are you taking a baby with you to the salon?! The noise (read loud conversation ), the chemicals…it’s just not right. Not to mention constantly listening to a foreign language. All I can do is infer from facial expression and drop in tone that they are discussing something real juicy.

Let me not even start on the weather!! As per now, I can’t complain much because my scalp is slowly melting away in a drier. But at least I’m warm. #Sigh#.