The Fall of Arsenal

I conjured up this idea a long time ago. The prevailing circumstances would make me appear like a bitter and grumpy human being with a grudge against the world. To be honest, I am bitter and grumpy that this idea might not be relevant today. And I blame it squarely on Arsenal because the idea is about Arsenal – the old Arsenal that served heartbreaks to Arsenal fans every weekend. Arsenal still serves heartbreaks, but it serves the wrong people. 

I must admit that a significant portion of my short-lived happiness comes from the misery of Arsenal fans. I have no doubt that the feeling is mutual among Arsenal fans. Although happiness was always short-lived, it was always worth it because it served one single purpose – Man Utd is the greatest team on earth and all planets that might support life. I speak for many a football fan when I say that the greatest and the happiest moment is seeing your rivals suffering defeat after defeat. It had been like that until a man from Spain decided to upset the natural order of things. 

The banter no longer sends Arsenal fans whimpering with tails between their legs like stray dogs. They are at the top of the table for God’s sake. And we are seeing their true colors. They are printing the EPL table and posting them side by side with posters of those waganga kutoka Kitui. Because some of us still have a few brain cells that have not been tampered with by substances, we patiently wait for the day they will be humbled.

It hurt my ego, a long time ago, when I chanced upon a kid clad in full Arsenal regalia. The kid was not even old enough to use the toilet without the help of an adult. According to my estimation, the kid’s parents were committing a punishable crime. I would have called the Kenyan equivalent of Child Protection Services. But I didn’t solely because I did not feed that kid, and neither did I help it use the toilet. 

In hindsight, I should have called the authorities. We do not need another Arsenal fan. The ones we have are already too much for us, especially this season. In fact, I wonder why scientists are yet to discover a device that predicts with 99.9% accuracy which club newborn babies will end up supporting. Those whose results will show that there is a negligible percentage that they will be Arsenal fans will straight away be condemned to be laborers. 

If you have gotten this far, I would like to let you know that I have nothing against Arsenal fans. However, I am pretty sure Arsenal fans have similar thoughts, perhaps even worse. Well, once we are done with petty distractions called football, we all become human again as we try not to starve, have a place to put our heads, and have a few coins left to finance our worldly obsessions. I am no better, except I believe I support a far superior team. Which is true as far as this article is concerned. 

I firmly believe that nobody should be coerced to support any team whatsoever. I can’t explain how I became a Man Utd fan. I can’t pinpoint the exact time or place where I made a pact with the gods of football to become overly excited by Man Utd’s wins and become really depressed when it loses. By God, it’s a team thousand of miles away, and how it exerts such unexplainable influence over people. It’s beyond me. It probably has something to do with drugs. 

As a young man who still thought the world catered to everyone’s whims, I had nothing better to do with my life except wait for the weekend to troop to watch Man Utd. I would make a solitary trip to Flax, the nearest shopping center, and feast my eyes on the magic Fergie had cooked that weekend. But when the old Scott called it quits, we realized how painful losing consistently is. We’ve barely won anything notable recently. And the fact that Arsenal might just win the league is unfathomable. 

But tonight, the elephant will tumble down the tree. I am looking forward to it more than anything else because peace, world hunger, and climate change depend on it. 

May the Pep win. 

She Left Before You Met

she left you even before she met you

all the while you rehearsed your heartbreak

many nights you tinkered with scenarios 

cringing, wondering what she would want, 

even when you'd given her everything, 

your heart spoke a language of inadequacy, 

somehow she'd need more than your enough, 

she'd deplete you, leaving you tattered 

indiscernible voices told you 

you wouldn't ever fulfill her 

it wasn't her fault when she stepped 

into a house that seemed empty, 

unwelcoming, - a house to pushed her away 

one day she walked away

leaving you with a broken heart, 

living your own prophesy 

Mere Words Don't Impress

She isn't interested in your wishful
rhymes,
Mere verses don't make you a knight
Unless the verses are a bridge
To the lands where her heart beats faster
A land where she opens her heart to love

You could liken her smile to the divine,
and all the celestial bodies,
you could think up verses Pablo Neruda never
dared to dream,
You could invent words Shakespeare forget
But it wouldn't mean much to her

Verses help paint the ideal love
and validate her beauty, value
but when the rubber hits the road,
you well crafted poem appears jumbled words
and you'll be left nursing your aches
lamenting about about lost love
But it takes more than verses 

Bandit Cops Of Nairobi

I have an unhealthy dislike for the police. It grates my heart and mind in a weird sort of way because I can’t turn this dislike into something useful. I am pretty sure scientists would have found a way to harness my hatred and turn it into electricity. Unfortunately, they are busy with important things such as searching for pictures of naked wires on the internet. It isn’t even a marketable 21st-century skill. 

I have been kidnapped (I can’t call it an arrest) several times by police. As per their usual MO (modus operandi), they ask you to pay ransom for you to secure your freedom. If you have never thought deeply as I have, freedom is the second fastest-selling product in the world after Jesus. And if you give a gun and uniform to a person to a person who uses his brains purely for aesthetic purposes, people will get arrested for peculiar reasons. For instance, a friend of mine was once arrested for allegedly walking like a Chinese. 

The reason for my last kidnapping incident is even weirder than fiction. I was kidnapped in connection with J.P. Magufuli’s death. I am not making this up. I am also not abusing any mind-altering substances. My conscience is crystal clear as I type this. The boys in blue appeared without warning, proudly donning their ugly uniforms and armed as though we were hardcore criminals. Thinking about it now, we actually were. Imagine a whole head of state lying in state. 

They began joking with us, pretending that they were humans. How they fooled us!!! A police officer can go from human to a police officer in approximately 3.59 seconds. You barely even notice it. All you notice is you being hounded into the back of a police pickup, escorted with the vilest insults ever known to man. It seems they teach it in their curriculum assuming they have one. 

The police are also taught one very important slogan: gari ya polisi haijai. We were forced to stack ourselves like crates every time they kidnapped more people. When they were satisfied, the police pick-up made its way to the station. It was then that we knew why we were being kidnapped. 

“Don’t you know Magufuli is dead!!?” One of them kept saying. We all kept quiet since we could hardly breathe. 

It was during the Covid period with the curfews and the social distancing nonsense. It beat logic that we were crammed in a police pick-up when we were required to keep social distance. But then policemen and women aren’t known for logic. It just isn’t their strongest suit, which probably makes them more qualified.

I do not dispute the fact that there are good cops. However, you will never meet them because they give the rest a bad reputation.  

Loving For Naught

despite your imperfections 
you loved the best way you could,
and that best was the only way you knew,
but she wanted more
to fill the void inside,
to erase the traumas, she went through
and the insufficient hugs she got,
but with all these demands,
your simple love simply wasn't enough
you were not enough

every single day you went 
a step further, 
scaled the cliched mountains and swam 
across oceans
but in the end, you realised 
you exhausted yourself for nothing 
she wasn't worth jumping over a mole hill 
she wasn't worth skipping a puddle 
she wasn't even enough for herself 
she never even loved herself 

I Am No Romeo

I am no Romeo, I suffer no illusions about my upbringing, there was no rodeo, down the Kerio valley, in case you are thinking you are Juliet, I'll be out there, looking for Chebet

Our forefathers saw no need of romance,

it hasn't been our tradition,

and if you think, perchance,

I'll join the red bandwagon,

let me make this clear,

I'll be out here, sipping traditional beer

find a way to bear with me

I am under no obligation,

neither are you, as you will see,

to join the hopeless bandwagon,

of those desperate to show love

I am a typical Kale, as you've read above

Blackmail

we hoped, as we groped our way

through dark souls, 

that we'd find the missing parts 

of our bodies, hoarded by strangers, 

which would complete us - 

somehow along the meandering paths, 

we discovered parts of ourselves, 

in strange people, 

we discovered they were 

chained to our younger selves, 

and as time wrung everything that was fun, 

we discovered they'd help us 

to help us rediscover our childhoods, 

and still be mature enough in the eyes 

of the world, 

we needed to whisper under blankets, 

for we are were aware of the eavesdropping world, 

time and again, 

we held our breaths, 

beholding in the sheer beauty, 

and the impossible odds that placed us right 

on each other's paths, 

and there, we began dreaming new dreams, 

as if we were curators of dreams, 

we began picturing eternities 

and the past receded, and slipped into oblivion, 

and then we weren't the same again, 

we began blackmailing each other, 

dishing out affection like smuggled goods 

suddenly we were done with each other, 

but felt stranded, 

with memories that began being bothersome 

with memories that became baggage we could bear not