But It Is Life

the days came and went by,
running along with your memory, 
the further the days strolled 
the further your memory receded 
at the back of my head 
in the secret compartment 
I store mathematical formulas 
formula I have never used 
all alone, I think of you 
the dark haze, 
the maze of steps 
that lead to you 
and i am lost, lost in the wonder 
of how we stopped loving, being us 
but it is life 

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is a candle in a whirlwind

Tomorrow is a gushing wound

Tomorrow is a withered tree

Tomorrow is a crashing plane

Tomorrow is a nuclear disaster zone

Tomorrow is a desperate orphan

Tomorrow is waiting for a man

A man who will never come

Tomorrow is a drowning man

Clutching a twig

Tomorrow is a hurricane, an earthquake

Tomorrow is a still birth

Tomato Scam

It is that time of the year when we – when I say we I mean Socrates, Plato, Confucius, and I – invoke one of the age-old wise sayings we came up with; thou shall never purchase a mere tomato for a price exceeding kdf. Our efforts were not only arduous but unmatched to date, considering the obvious fact that kdf had not yet been invented. Man, I remember people didn’t even vote then.

I have faltered twice on the saying. No, three times to be exact, although I can perfectly explain to the panel of eminent persons, should I be called upon. I made up for the flaw by –wait for it – shoplifting. At the time, I lived in a neighborhood where people strictly went grocery shopping. Our mama mboga, or grocery lady, had her kibanda tucked around one corner. It seemed as though rich people went there for discounts, but it was not anything like a discount to me.

I have veered off the topic. I was talking about tomatoes. So this day, after a hard day, I dashed to a mini-supermarket tucked on one of the buildings that had this giant black intricately designed gate. I only saw Somali ladies with those weird paintings of theirs entering and leaving that gate. The supermarket was more like an after-thought, for it was located on the first floor of the building, and was accessed on the outside via a steel staircase that made a lot of noise. I had mastered the steps and avoided the one that made the most noise as I ascended to make my paltry purchases – a sachet of coffee or half a kilo of sugar.

Once inside the supermarket, I selected two eggs from the shelf and a tomato. The tomato cost a whopping twenty shillings. The tomato itself was huge. If it talked, it would definitely have had linguistic prowess exceeding Waititu’s by kilometers. What did I do? Of course, nothing. I just sulked at the open robbery and quickly forgot about it. My motto quickly transformed to 'I can do without tomatoes.' Little pretentious ingredients whose only purpose was to make me feel miserable and deprived. And make me feel like I couldn’t enjoy a meal because, without it, food tasted like a concoction of sawdust and cow dung.

However, by mere chance, I checked at the counter with a packet of unga and two eggs, but parting with the said items with the price of unga. How did I do it? The cashier did not see the eggs. And that effectively turned me into a shoplifter. One day, when I get to public office, this statement might haunt me, but I don’t care. Given a chance, I’ll steal, and I don’t think I’ll ever wean myself off the habit. I don’t do it now because I haven’t had any chances. Besides, there’s so much anger out there, and being caught will surely mark the end of you.

On second thought, maybe I was not a shoplifter. I only pilfered. The excuse I can give is that they sold me, against my express will, a tomato costing twenty shillings. I’d pilfer little things like coffee sachets and eggs. And the very tomatoes. There was simply no way I could purchase them at such a price. Until the other day.

I was out and about trying to assemble things to make a meal of – veggies here, onions there, and tomatoes. Usually, I make it a point of buying things from the same place. Upon checking the price of tomatoes, it simply didn’t inspire me, but I bought it anyway. It was tiny, the same size as plums, but went for fifteen shillings. I silently wished I poured libations to my ancestors, maybe they would have intervened.

Beaten, I made my meal, glad that I was veering off my culinary delights that mainly involved boiling, ate, and proceeded to ruminate at the unfairness and injustice brought about by tomatoes’ decision to make themselves scarce. Foods without them, except at home tastes as though someone is punishing you. When did tomatoes actually decide to wedge themselves onto our tables, ruling our foods with a reptilian grip? 

I do not know, but right now, I do not intend to buy them anymore. The sad fact is that the simple exclusion has not made me any rich.  

Right now, I can only reminisce the times I could have bought four of them for ten shillings. And they nearly the size of Akothee’s boobs. Now their presence is as arrogant as Akothee herself.

Fatigue

every part of your body aches, 
the brain has since ceased running 
only receiving pain receptors 
your eyes drool, wanting nothing more than to shut down 
and see NOTHING for a long time 
but you have to be up, 
to dream the same dream 
the dreams you are scared to pursue 
because down the road, 
you will be served with a sign 
of disappointment 
and you feel you've used up, 
all you energy to try again 
the truth is you did, 
what with mathematical formulae 
pendulums and kilo joules 
chemical formulae, the periodic table and protons 
you tried to be good at them, 
and biology too, 
but life happened, and wanted nothing to 
do with classroom shenanigans  

The Alarm

the ever contemptuous alarm rings, 
splitting the silence and your slumber 
like firewood, 
it jolts you to the world of never-enough 
a world of never ending pursuits 
money, love, happiness 
you seek them despite the eerie laughter 
a diabolic laugh telling you 
of the vanity 
of needless worry that assails you 
for this world will swallow you whole 
although ravaged, scarred and scalded 
people will speak glowingly of your exploits 
because you often obeyed the alarm 

Random Musing

Find me by the roadside, dazed

Dreaming of paths that lead to you 

Seeking to swim the rivulets 

Of the numerous memories of us 

Singing along to our favorite songs 

Embracing worry out of our weary hearts 

Promising each other eternities 

Plucking love from our gazes 

the penetrating gazes that ripped our senses 

the promise of our beating hearts 

screaming in our heads 

boisterous that nothing will come between us 

find me by the roadside seeking those moments 

gazing at the distance hoping to see you 

emerge from the darkness that swallowed 

I long the glow in your eyes 

when you look at me and say you love 

because 

because that is a feeling i can't ever trade 

only because no could actually offer me money 

for now, its only me who knows the value 

What am I Writing About

it knocks and swiftly enters 
finding you naked as the day you were born 
you are alone 
for so many dawns have come and gone 
still, you live thinking 
thinking thoughts in disjointed notes 
and when you are not, 
you are baring your soul to the deal 
daring its fangs 
to sink into you 
and take you through 
for nights have ceased appealing 
neither days 
but you don't to be ambushed, and be found naked
or donning torn underpants