Sikiliza

Sundays as a kid were always superb. Mass was a very short affair (phew!!) and afterwards we were all bunched in the car and taken swimming at the local sports club (bonus lunch too when lucky!)….when money was tight we had to eat at home (then wait 20 minutes for the food to “reach the stomach” to avoid barfing in the water). We would race to change in record time and my mum swathed us all with a gob of Vaseline making us look like shiny brown blobs jumping into the water with glee…. All my siblings could swim like aces except me….I used to like belly flopping at the club’s baby pool to maximize the splash effect to those (idiots I thought) who were not in their bathing suits or ready to face the risk of getting wet at the poolside… My mother, who believed any water more than a bath tub was lethal never got near the pool. She sat under the umbrella chairs propped her feet up on another chair and sipped on tomato juice on the rocks and browsed a romance novel or those weekly women maga...

Growing up I was a gawky girl with buck teeth and a shy smile. I took a while to warm up to people hiding behind my mum’s legs when strangers were around. With kids it was rather worse…I had not really had kids to play with and so I took socializing a bit tooooo seriously…It seemed absurd to me when kids threw sawdust from the play ground at each other as fun. I was a tad too sensitive and held back tears most times…I really preferred playing with pets insects and tailless lizards around the house…they were less likely to call me names or hurl saw dust into my eyes. When I first went to nursery everything was new and exciting. I loved my tomato red uniform. My mum did my hair in little pom poms and I think I looked cute…..I had this little red box with my break tin and juice, two books and pack of 12 crayons. My Stuff was labeled by my perfectionist mother… Sikiliza Flamingo Nursery School …. Its here where I met Mrs Raja. She was a tough but ok teache...

Images By Jerry Riley Words By Sikiliza “ …Unadamu mkononi na asali mdomoni Matendo yako ni maovu matamshi yako ni matamu Nimeomba haujadhamini nimeiimba hausikii Nimebishabisha nimeitana na mlango haufungui …” There is blood on your fingers honey flows from your tongue As you conceal the boundaries stones While am not looking you stab me in the back with my own spear I play my song but you’re not dancing I pray for you but you won’t believe My knees are aching from nights awake and tears for you … ___________ … ukweli hauna kifo ukweli hauna mwisho Na wewe umejaa vitisho Ukweli hauna mwisho …” Truth never dies Truth has no endAnd all you have are threats Truth has no end” ____________ Powerful words from Eric Wainaina’s single Ukweli meaning Truth in his latest album called “Twende Twende” loosely translated to mean let’s move with some frantic urgency. This song was commissioned as a call for justice in the mysterious death of Father Anthony Kaiser who was reported as having commit...

In the wake of Kenya’s independence there was a vast amount of nation building that needed to be done. There was also unfortunately, a large number of young Kenyans who were actively involved in the struggle for independence and so when peace reigned many had no where to go, no formal education or skills and no work prospects. The president, Mzee Jomo Kenyatta saw the need to establish a state sponsored youth programme aimed at training and developing skills while in turn have the youth volunteer their time and energy towards nation building activities. Thus, the National Youth Service was born. It was enacted through Act of Parliament in 1964. The brainchild was conceptualized by Geoffrey Griffin who also served as the debut Director of the NYS programme, Waruhiu Itote better known as General China as his Deputy and J.M. Kariuki all now deceased. Since then, NYS has grown from strength to strength providing tertiary opportunities to thousands of Kenyan youth across a national demograp...

Images by Jerry Riley Driving down the escarpment on the Nakuru-Nairobi highway past Limuru, the road opened up to the great escarpment view point. Curio shops eager for tourist stopovers are set up by the cliff displaying bright coloured kikoys all set against the substantial drop of the valley with Mt Longonot at the horizon. Specks of iron sheet roofs shimmer in the dull noon sun and there are several squares and rectangles of browns and greens of people’s shambas spread across the bottom of the valley. In all the years plying to and fro this highway this scene still takes one’s breath away. We were headed to Kijabe town an hour’s drive from Nairobi, our destination was a small mission station set up by the African Inland Church Missionaries in the late 1800’s. The town’s name is derived from the Maa language meaning “the windy place” proof of this evident in every person we passed swathed in some kind of warm woolly apparel. AIC Kijabe Hospital is nestled at the edge of the Gre...

I discover a newness about you each day, bringing me immense pleasure Like a child unwrapping a gift, eyes lit with eagerness at some new treasure Turbulent wars rage through my mind With all this unrequited thoughts I find Each and every one of your triumphs lifts my mood Secret smile plays my mind’s lips like a shrouded hood Unspoken whispers and confessions of love muttered Untouched kisses and caresses make my heart fluttered As you stand there utterly oblivious Death might loom before I let slip my feelings for you And even then I shall defy and hold onto this secret passion that you stir in me

Weeks before my mother’s birthday were always exciting. When she was alive I would rustle up my school allowance and get together a corny gift…mostly some cheap colorful costume jewelry that didn’t look as tacky as it did when I left the “no refunds store.” I most always made a card because I would have used everything that I had on the cheap gift and have nothing left for a nice card and gift wrapping paper. For those who know me, my art sucked more than my taste in costume jewelry so in a sense what I really only had to offer my mother was the thought behind it. I loved her fiercely and found her to be the single most beautiful person in the world. It’s been a while since I let myself think of her. How she never let me wear make up till I was 16 and a half and even then only let me wear kohl on my eyes and dark lipstick. Even now, it’s the only make up I can get on my face. I miss how she taught me to knit, crochet and appreciate all the flowers around me….She read my mind like an op...

A fiery smile plays on your lips As you spread the shine with your words Laced with care and gentleness That only a good friend can give A song of a laugh echoes around you As you relish the moment with cheer Letting me in on the essence of you That only a good friend can have Thank you for sharing your wonderful heart with me

A friend and poet Boniface Gachugu "Peanut" is in hospital today for major surgery and although he owes me a poem, I thought that my posting today should be dedicated to him and to his quick recovery... "...Peanut, your friends are all rooting for you..." A poem dedicated to you from me.... I am not scared of the dark anymore Not of the glistening lights through the bedroom window That look like huge orbs of eyes glaring at me as I sleep…… I am not scared of the dark anymore Not of the sounds outside when the wind howls Trees creak and the dogs yowl at the wee hours of enchantment I am not scared of the dark anymore Not of the sound my pulsing heart and heavy breathing When sudden silence around me is deafening I am not scared of the dark anymore Not even when my furniture comes alive in the dark And looks like a monster bearing down on me I am not scared of the dark anymore Not even when I fear that I might wake up at dawn to find The whole world has gone and left...

Maureen - Chairperson of Kibera Uzima Youth Initiative - Images by Jerry Riley I went to Kibera last week Africa’s 2nd largest slum and found a gem called Maureen who walked through Kibera for 2 whole days identifying the weak and bed ridden who could not get up and look for food during the post electoral violence period that rocked Kenya. She and the wonderful people at Uzima Foundation http://uzimafoundation.org helped feed 120 homes as a result. Kibera was one of the worst affected places and I saw signs of plunder when I came across what was left of burnt houses and churches. Yet I saw hope in the eyes of the youth in Kibera…and I think we should nourish it… To read my article on Maureen please check out this link http://generationkenya.co.ke/main/nourishing-hope-in-kibera/ I am especially pleased that this story touched a well known and respected journalist Mr. Charles Onyango-Obbo. To read his article check out this link http://www.nationmedia.com/dailynation/nmgcontententry.as...

A little later than the witching hour My mind cogs itself to motion Sleep is evaded easily My mind a faithful companion is most articulate then. Qualms that engulf me are dealt with impartially Frenzied mindsets are validated, Tactics are drawn, Meetings premeditated or cancelled My mind shrugs itself off emotional baggage. Fevers, chills, migraines and body aches are temporarily numbed For a while I trade in for immortality and semblance of thought Mercifully, it is granted. A little gap in the vastness of time A time most forlorn With little or no acclaim as the rest of the world sleeps Or is cradled in the gentle arms of a loved companion With no interest in me or mine: The flash of hopeful brilliance Fades by dawn Nuances may radiate when I relate More of it seeming than certain. Leaving void in the minds of many As to whether I am……

I am drowning in my senses Goose pimples riddle my arm Caused not though by the ephemeral breeze For few precious moments I am hoisted out of my trivial being I feel myself lifted to the clouds…. I am not sure if its day or night Not sure if I am flying or floating But, I am rising. My eyes shut or open, Suddenly, I feel myself falling Falling fast There is a tightness in my stomach I spiral further down My hand grasping for the clouds The midnight and azure blue sky flash before me My body battered by the merciless crossings of the winds… I see the mountains, seas, lakes, whizzing past me … I look towards the ground where my fall is inevitable Clear waters of the sea and its depths beneath me… I crash into it as my body is shattered into a thousand and more jolts of pain… Fear grips me hard as it is cold. My lungs drenched with the salty iciness … And I drown…down to the unknown depths of the unseen world To be lost forever in the bellies of a perpetual dark mystery ~Siki~

Kuteleza siyo kuanguka (To slip is not to fall) Sikiliza upate kujua… (Listen so that you know…) I remember fondly as kids when we were occasionally asked to go to the front of class and tell stories and would always excitedly start as all stories are started in Swahili… “ Paukwa!!!!!” “Pakawa!” “Sahani?” “ya mchele!” “Giza?” “Ya mwizi!” “Baiskeli?” “ya watu wotee!” “Na Maziwa je?” Ya watoto wa nyayooo” “Hapo zamani za kale……” At that time it didn’t matter some statements were propaganda from Moi’s time…it also really didn’t matter that if you joined the primary school mass choir the songs you were bound to sing would be exalting his reign filled with words like Nyayo Philosofia … Baba wa Taifa …and all the sycophantic lullings that went with sucking up to political leaders… …it did matter though at some point when Kenyans decided to flex some muscle and break away from Kanu… It was a hard time for all just before the multiparty era ...people talked in hushed whispers…disgruntled Kenya...

My friend had just finished lining up on new years for 2 ½ hours for fuel and on her way home she was caught up in the middle of the boda boda people (cyclist taxis) who were chanting and supporting their political leader and when the GSU forces came to contain the stirrings she got hurt in the melee… Nothing except pain is gained by violence... ~Siki~