Sikiliza

We always met under the muratina tree And spoke for hours on end... Those were the moments my heart body and soul were captured by her spell She mesmerises me still many moons later  Not sure what was more intoxicating ... Her voice, her presence, the tender way she is with me....  Or the thoughts of the joyful brew we from the  Dropped fruit sweetness that shrouds its potency.... Both have my head spinning and my smile plastered on my face this festive season.... To being merry with love a good swig of muratina...

Wow what a year... and before I fall into pandemic cliches ‘in these strange times’ all I can say in a very loaded way is its been an intense journey. One filled with unexpected moments, lessons some very painful. I have hesitated until now   to share my thoughts because one minute to the next I oscillate from sheer panic and dread to an unsettling calm acceptance and somehow words felt inadequate to capture these convoluted experiences... But as we kick into the last quarter of this year with a sured-ness that life as we know it will never really be the same ... I have a new sense of stillness sitting at the pit of my belly as we brace to face what comes ahead.  For a while, when the world was out of order I misplaced some my internal bearings and anchors that helped me process my strong emotions and difficulties...I felt paralysed to access my usual outlets of art and expression, prayer, movement and meditation.... and my introverted ways easily shifted into being hermitty a...

Trace down all my ebony skin Feel along with it each minute texture Rise of goosebump sharp breathe I take The anticipation of you has me on edge Senses titillating as you lovingly rove me Slow or fast unsure time lost meaning In this wordless love song You play at me You nibble  String me  Stir me Awaken me...  Give me A kind of caress  that demands my attention  As I remember the familiarity of you Eyes drawn shut to contain my delights  Of folding into the warmth of joy Give these curves a little more devotion Offering each inch gentle care in place Of rebuke that rolled so effortlessly prior So love thyself ...  Each day for the time it takes to examine your reflection  That is how we will change this world....

I struggled to be  Because there are razor sharp blades  In place of tongue that tore words up Words dried up and so we learnt to cry Tears dried up and so we learnt to heave Air dried up and we felt life ebb away I struggled to be.... You have struggled to be  Because there are painful barbs  In place of tongue and so you shot these  Barbs wounded us so we learnt to cry Blood overran tears so we learnt to moan Stifled weak drained we felt us slip away We ceased to be.... We ceased to be.... Because we chose razors and barbs  To replace gentleness to hurt each other  Sharing pain, our legacy we learnt to cry Inflict suffering our choice we learnt to moan We watched things and people slip by  Until nothing could be...

I hurt, shrug and smile. 2020 When I was 9 years old CW a known violent bully in Moi Primary pushed me off the stone benches I was playing on. It was unexpected and he simply shoved me off and I fell face flat on the gravel. He walked away non plussed. No one said anything .. a few kids pointed and laughed.  Shrugs. I woke up winced and tried to wipe my tunic and clean off the blood on both my knees. I did it with quietly with tears rolling down my cheeks. I remained quiet throughout the day until now 33 years later I have written it down. One Sunday, when I was 11, DD an older boy from school who was one class ahead of me accosted me while alone near the swings at the Sports Club while I was with there with family over the weekend. He came up to me and threw a 100/- at me demanding that I take it and ‘play sex.’ I gave an incredulous and disgusted laugh saying hell no and seemed surprised... and ashamed. His face turned red and he picked his money walked awa...

Here is a photo of me in my mother’s florist shop circa 1993. I was in form 2 in boarding school and when we closed we were expected to do our share of chores. Jim my bro (he had finished university or his uni internship I think) and I work at this particular shop for a while. If you look closely at the background, that is Jim on the left back next to a next of fresh cut white carnations in a yellow bucket and near the monstera plant. He was really good at doing the wire and mesh work and making the moss sticks for wreaths and to prop up creeper plants like money maker and monsteras. Mum is on the right hiding behind the newspaper she hated photographs. The shop was called Mariana’s Florist. Jim and I learnt to do lots of things i.e. make bridal floral bouquets, funeral wreaths in round and heart shapes, take care of the indoor plants that we sold...I was very good at sales and our bestsellers were African violets and money makers both of which were said to bring a home good luck...

These are the only words I can muster that attempt to describe the loss of my brother ....my friend ... the one I loved and fought with all my life until he left me.... “In life we gain and we loose... but sometimes our losses are staggering in their size and magnitude that we barely survive the huge hole it leaves in us....When part of you is cut off there is pain both in the absence and in the healing of the wound.... gaping wounds take their time to heal and scar...there is a lot of pain and soreness in this loss...I long reach out only to find you are no longer here... it hurts. rest Swes rest there is no pain where you are because I took it all. It is well.  Chiqy” RIP Binya 1 year gone

Someone used the words justice warrior  recently and something jolted inside me. I recognised the word that could easily describe in an all encompassing way, who I am. I am a warrior for justice... I stand up with conviction and attempt to fist pump in the air. My left hip buckles with bolts of intense pain shooting through me and this faltered my movement. I saw a faint shadow of me fall on the window glass.... it surprised me at first so I peered again closer because my brain took a moment to recognise its own reflection... The staring led me to squint and lean forward collapsing my posture somewhat and with it the resolve that shot me up from my seat in the first place.  This wasn’t very justice warrior like and I shuffled back indoors. The bright of the sun-rays crept in falling on the full length mirror by the corridor. The light startled me as I walked past my reflection. I stopped short and settled my gaze on my eyes first. While my face was free of expr...

I fumbled to express the depths of my desires... I sought in vain to find it in the stories and voices of others.... I walked a thousand paths to countless nowheres... I dreamt but failed to clutch handfuls of fantasy  But like clouds, they drifted .... Then, one day I found your soul ... I settled my heart in your room  Filled with warm sultry spaciousness  And I parched the deep thirst  That I always longed for; You are my love’s purpose...  and I drink you each day....

We are afraid of being in constant fear that tightening of the tummy The brace The weight of the other shoe drop. We are exhausted of catching the wind that skewered race at onset The chase A handful of hot nothingness We are dizzy from running circles that distortion of nowhere-ness The fall The journey with no destination We are in pain at the thoughts of an end that gives no say on our interment The erasure The violence of our queerness….. We will rise from the grave roving to torment your remaining days The haunt Eroding your wicked sanctimonious souls