Saturday, 12 January 2019

Mjulubeng


Ever since the damning revelations about the inspiration behind Naiorbi’s landmark, KICC, the term mjulubeng (udogo ni kajulubeng, ukubwa ni kulundeng – for those who don’t know) comes to mind. Sometimes in public, a strange little smile forms in my face, which a psychiatrist would definitely diagnose as the early stages of lunacy. But do I mind? Absolutely not. Because the term mjulubeng is way too hilarious.

This word, mind you, is not a product of random assignments. The person who conjured it up did not excuse himself to that filthy urinal at his local and had a eureka moment. He didn’t open his fly, fish the thing out and as he watched the trajectory of his money [already converted into unusable liquid form, unless for perverted sexual fetish] and had divine inspiration. He then exclaims as he staggers out of the bacteria infested toilet, ‘wow! From now on it’s called mjulubeng.’

No. It is far from it. Balding scientists sat in laboratories [it’s been years and I still say labarotory] for ages, disguised as space researchers, in order to come with this hilarious combination of words that would define a man’s favourite body part – mine is the brain. These scientists came in, day in day out, months in months out as they hammered words together to make this complex word. And every evening, when their wives asked them what they were doing, they calmly said:

“Space research,”  

“You mean you want to go the moon?” a prodding wife asks.

“Sort of,” the balding scientist says curtly.

And so they worked tirelessly, even avoiding alcohol because it would speed up the process. They had lucrative contracts. When they thought they wouldn’t come up with a word according to the specifications given, one of them had an insight: he told the others he was going to have a drink. All of the followed him and their contracts were severed.

But that was not the end.

Sitting in his room at approximately 3.17 am in the morning, wondering how he would write twenty pages due in a few hours, a university student cracked the code, giving birth to the now famous word mjulubeng. It follows that he never wrote 20 pages and decided to dedicate his campus life to making memes and shagging girls with intellectual depth of a fishing rod. He used the word extensively in the memes he created, until it stuck in people’s brains.

And now it is one hilarious word that will last for a long time. Cheers to mjulubeng.

I Stayed Awake


You made me feel like a teenager
Falling in love for the first time
I stayed awake, with a knot in my stomach
Thinking beautiful thoughts
Of you and I, loving each other forever

You weren’t mine, but I loved your laughter
Your laughter spoke to my soul,
I stayed awake listening to its message
Willing myself to sleep in the wee hours of night
And yet, you weren’t mine

I played Trey Songz’s song
A thousand times
Because I thought ‘I couldn’t help but wait
‘I didn’t wanna come between you and your man
Even though I’d treat you better than he could’

You are still out there
Breathing the same air
But in seemingly different hemispheres
Yet your laughter is what my heart still hears

Wednesday, 9 January 2019

The Helpless Children


Smoke rises as homes are reduced to rubbles
Silent sirens awaken the dreams of the dead
Hauled into ambulance are the wounded
And children cry helplessly, forsaken by humanity

Mothers wailing perhaps beseeching God
Asking Him, hopelessly, why He chose the land
A land filled with land mines planted by human cruelty 
They cry to lull their indescribable pains

The bombs still fall, men still load ammunitions
Is freedom this expensive or is it a form of folly
Where dictators order airstrikes to replace rains
Because stones course through their veins

Is there an explanation to human cruelty?
Is there even an excuse to cruelly rob a man’s life?
Is there anything musical about a child’s wail?
Is there anything worth salvaging in ruins?

Gaze At Me With Those Naked Eyes


Gaze at me with those naked eyes
Strip me bare, to my skeleton
Consume me with you undying love
Embrace the chaos in my life
Charm the ruins, salvage the dreams
For if they are worthy for you,
They are to me too

The Footsteps


There were mornings, cold and bitter,
When I sat in that class with a pensive heart
(a heart that had since declared love you)
And my mind wondered what you’d wear
Would it be that tight dress,
The one that enhanced every feature in you
Or a mere trouser that did not arouse any lewd thoughts
But before I could conjure an image
My heart would catch your shoes tapping the floor
And synchronize your footsteps with its beats
All the while chanting, I am in love with you
And, beautifully, you never knew about it

Monday, 7 January 2019

Nobody Is Your Friend

In this city, Nairobbery, nobody is your friend
Everybody is seeking to rob you a few coins
Even if their greatest need is to cool their loins
At dimly lit brothels down at River Road

Do not befriend you mama mboga
Lest the friendship leads you to debt
Work hard, pay everything by your sweat
Here, friends keep a sword behind velvet gloves

In this city, befriend your family
They are the ones who are more concerned
And will part with a little, though hard earned
To see you through a city without friends

In this city, be your own consigliore
Advise yourself accordingly
Lest prurient appetites bring you to ruination
Because you will cry alone, bitterly

But if you must make a friend
Be friends with your money
Be friends with your source of money
Save and spend your money wisely 

The Abyss Of The Soul

The world stretches revealing an abundance,
Of nothingness,
The blank canvass, the empty pages
Stare with a monstrous glare
As if daring, as if about to devour
And the brain becomes a maze
Entangled like wires, like earphones inside a pocket
Then everything becomes blank
Empty and desolate