Exploring The Silence

Kupakwa mafuta kwenye mgongo wa chupa.

Jamaz, I know you’d feel me on this.

Here’s the scenario. You’re with your chic on some function, actually, anywhere really. Let’s say somewhere in tao walking to the ma3s after an evening meet. Along the way, you bounce into some jama that knows her. Or she knows him.

You’re accosted by the kinda hug this other jama receives. You know, the one that sort of lingers a second longer than what you’re usually half-heartedly given. The one that seems kinda tighter than the light version you receive. And given from some distance. This one doesn’t leave any spaces in between, it’s wholesome. It also doesn’t leave any doubt that this here jama that you face with half-jealousy-half-envy, is someone your chic likes. Very much.

There is some strange wind blowing across your heart bringing with it some coldness you rarely felt. Yes, it nearly freezes you. Time sort of stands still for the while he’s smiling facing you, deeply clasped in the arms of your chic. He’s got that “got her” look in his eyes that only two jamaz can comprehend.

Eventually after what seems to be eons, she introduces the two of you. The intro is somewhat shallow from what you’d expect. Nothing is mentioned of “my jama”, just a rushed hush of your name and his. Rushed enough for you not to remember it when you take three steps from there. There’s that mutual head nod of jamaz acknowledging each other like adversaries granting each other respite for those few minutes before a duel. Then comes The Silence.

The Silence that suppresses every thought you have. No one says anything, but yet at that particular point in time, things come with a certain clarity that frightens. Images in front of you freeze and pixelate into little mono-chromed squares that stand out perfectly from each other. You see it, he sees it, she doesn’t.

Two or three seconds later, she breaks this silence with “So….”, little realizing that this conversation’s already concluded.

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alexcia, ur graf iko jikoni..... coming soon.

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image courtesy of: http://www.simplifiedsigns.org/stupid.jpg

Sweet Revenge, WAPI12 & Gender Diversions

Yester evening I had myself one momentous evening when AC Milan finally got their revenge over the Reds. Liverfool fans in the club were so upbeat when they got the ka one score – ya kufuta machozi – but then after the final whistle, pity was their lot. Hiyo silver imefika Home!

This past weekend was the twelfth WAPI and the theme was De Uprising, against ethnic and political violence. The two pieces were among my four entries to the exhibit.

Sato was WAPI12 but this time, it turned out to be abit different. I couldn’t pin in on what, but I think the duo Cannibal and Sharama (Karama) had a lot to do with it. They literally lit up the stage with their Bouncing, Bouncing and Street Hustler jigz. It was a performance and a half. Plus walibeba kirende nzima ya Ukoo Flani the Mombasa version to Nai with them and yes, you guessed it. They too did their thang on that stage.

Sorry to say, mafans wa graff, the entries have become abit watered down. Graff at wapi is suffering abit from the departures of Phiks and my bro Hint coupled with some logistical (missing cans, not enuff cans) issues. However, this wapi still managed to produce one of the best graff I’ve seen in the City in the Sun for a looooooooong time, courtesy of Swift. One Blood was its title, superbly executed. Didge was there and gave a sampling of his next album.... bound to hit! Boy has talent. Liz put up a Fashion-for-Peace piece and it was superb. Great colours.

On other news, this jama (y’all must have heard) called into a local radio station to “reveal” how his wife thwacks him…… for things like not agreeing to carry her handbag in public. At first I thought, lame FM station joke, until it become clear it was for real. Now, now, now. Dude is bilaz ama? There was something about the entire hullabaloo that was made from this here minor, minute and insignificant event that bypassed my simple comprehension. Hell, am chauvinistic on how women cannot beat men, and vice versa (he,he,he) – this last addiction is for the feminists) but to bring it on radio like that’s a topic for discussion is just plain uncouth! Ok, ok, so we have to discuss domestic violence on women aaaaaaaaaaand men, but I say, that jama could have gone for counseling or something. Something like reorientation.

Back to wapi. This time there was a Mchongoano session. Sh#@ was hilarious! Ati you’re so dark mpaka shetani akikuona atasema “Jesus!”. Ati uko na nywele mob mpaka your whole body ni private part! Ati wewe ni mfupi mpaka unatumia shilingi kama tire! Ati wewe ni mfupi we ubembea kwa pavement!

The fotoz..... poleni am really bad with names so juz enjoy yourselves visually! The first person to tell me where this Lion is found within Nairobi gets a free graff of their name!

What do you say?

Someone tell me what do you say when you’re speechless and yet have this burning desire to speak out. Words form and change and fade mentally, but they can’t seem to come to speech. You know exactly what you want to say but somehow communicating that becomes unachievable. So now, you find yourself stuck in between silence and deafening thoughts.

Someone tell me what do you say when you’re speechless and you know the only way out is to speak these words that you hold under lock and key inside. Be they the truth or some passing cloud, you know only too well that for you to find solace once more, they have to be released. Painstakingly you fight with those thoughts of whether or not to set them free, all the while remaining silent. All the while denying your very self.

Someone tell me what do you say when you’re speechless and it happens to be at the point of the conversation when your silence sounds the loudest. So loud it shatters and drowns the thoughts you’re having along with the words forming that you’ve been eager to let out. Washes them all away and you’re left barren, feeling numb and desolate. Feeling nothing. Thinking nothing. Doing nothing.

What do you say?

I’d say it’s the death of love.

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on another note, WhoElse, thanx alot for the bday gift. one word. Awesome. Wish there was a way i could whisper it to you........

Let there be light

Am halfway up the hill, my busy mind swiveling and doing rubik cube aerobics on some design problem I need to crack before the start of business tomorrow. Once the thought of how bad I need to solve this creative hitch hits my synapses, a myriad of worries is let loose.

You see for a continual period of time, actually ever since I came to this new house, electricity has been off and on. And not from me playing with the switch. Here I am with my choking laptop, eager to receive a boost of much needed charge to accomplish the by now very cultivated ideas am having. But in the struggle up this Mt. Everest-wanna-be, the thought that i‘ll get no lights at home seems to negate the very movement of my limbs. Climb, shove, limb move.

I realize how actually I’ve been thinking of this not-very-light light problem for some time now. It flashes in and out of my mind, playing neon flicker with other thoughts. Subtly but gritty, it’s predominant when I think work and home at the same time. Isn’t it amazing how something almost obvious can occupy the bulk of your thoughts and instead of concentrating on bigger, better things that matter, you are reduced to engage in its entertainment?

Am near the last few yards where the hill climaxes into a long stretch, my long home stretch. The stretch that makes me guzzle two glasses of juice the minute I hustle past my door into that crib, before I stretch lazily for a minute or two on the couch catching back my breath. In between the perspiration and wheezing, am silently whispering prayers and hopes that tonite, at least leo tu, huo mwangaza utakuwa. My processor is already on other trail of thoughts. If kutakuwa dark, do I even have any candles left? If I get no lights, that work will stall for another day. That client ain’t that understanding. And what happens to my credibility? Damn, I think I’ll lose the account. Shoot! If I lose that account, it’ll probably spoil my chances on the new contract coming up. If that fails through the cracks, May may turn out to be a very dry month. Financially. And to think I pay for electricity and it’s off on default. Stupid caretaker doesn’t even care. Sits around all day and when I get back in the evening to darkness, he’s aloof and acts like nothing’s wrong. Once he even told me it ain’t his problem. What nerve! I didn’t know whether to punch him silly till his lights go out, pour hot candle wax on his non-committal lax or laugh. Being of very short fuse at such inviting occasions, I did the latter and took a still long walk back to the hill while praying for patience. “God grant me patience for things I do not understand…and let the caretaker take care of what he says to me next time otherwise…”

But mostly urgently God, please let there be light today when I get home.