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.

Playaz Gettin' Played

Yes, am semi-officially back to blogging. When i get to see such juicy stories as the one in today's Nation newspaper, i can't help but holla!

Ati, listen to this, 50% of the genetic cases processed by the Government Chemist to ascertain whether mbuyu wako ni buda yako end up negative. In simple English, 50% of these men are not the biological daddies to these babies. And the tip of the iceberg, this is just from a sampling of 137 cases! Only!



Which means, vile majamaa we claim to be playaz huku mamaz are thoroughly playing us. Think about it, 50%??? Damn, that's alot of lies!

Then there's this story on the Standard, a sort of flip-coin to the Not-my-Daddy saga. Women who don't want kids and the myriad of reasons given to support their "unique" decision.

Am in awe of the dichotomy of Kenyan mamaz - Women who want kids, but not with you and Women who don't want kids. Period.

Writerz Bl*ck

Now, now Mocha, you making it look bad. It's another teaser, i think i've quit for good. At times i feel like letting on some things, but most times am caught in the blankness of No Words land... to peruse my mind for an inch of lettering that may be laid in front of other eager minds, soul searching the depths of meanings to what i call my life. The C'Quel may bekam real sometime in the near future, maybe days, maybe weeks. But for now, burst!

.... let me be the 1st one to say Happi Bathday to you in advance! may the sweet music of warmth, affection and love, yes Love, fill your special day and the days that roll after that. Happi Bathday Mocha!

Eureka Moments

In his excitement, Archimedes forgot himself and ran around the town, butt naked, shouting Eureka! Eureka!

Ever felt that you needed to share something you found incredibly insightful with someone? To have it off you and to have that high that comes from sharing? Those are the moments that drive me back to blogging. I keep getting them in the folding of my days and I keep wishing they’d be molding someone somewhere the same way they mold me.

And by that intent I get back to jot a few lines. This is the Marazzmatazz C’Quel, blogging from latitude 01.17S, longitude 36.48E.

On this sophomore journey we delve into poetry, art and the eureka moments in my life and of life.

Keep afloat!

a month later

tempted

Ides of March

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ps: some of the links to the posts have been taken down already :(

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On March 15, 2006 Marazzmatazz came to be and so began the 1 year blog project that was born out of a desire to share, to inspire, to confront, to engage and to reflect how I relate to others, them to me and issues that confound me daily.

Today, exactly one year later, this blog ceases to be.

In retrospect, it's been a great and worthwhile experience for me. It’s been one year of inspiration from so many people, each day for that one year. Not many people who landed on this little corner of my world completely comprehended the intricacy and intimacy in the posts and as a last token of appreciation, am going to walk you through the labyrinth that was Marazzmatazz.

It all began with the Debut on March 15, 2006.

Intending to create a design oriented blog to share my art and design works, but my expressionist side quickly had the better part of me. I penned Serenity in Truth and Letting Go, both relating to the romantic surgery i was going thru at that time. But depicted in poetic prose how love in my life shifts like dragonflies on flight. Slowly over a stretch of time, these posts intertwined into The Question of Hitchin' and if anyone could step up to the Marriage Vacancy, it meant they were fitted with most answers to the 21 Questions. I was ready for this new love. Date You seemed a natural start point.

Dream Come True, Another Dream Come True and We're On Fire explored issues of Letting Go and/or being patient in love. I soul searched when love didn't make sense no more. They eventually lead to the Complexities Series as i came to read the fine lines between situations i was in and began exploring their essence.

Then I found my forbidden love, Gbaby and thru her I burnt as fiercely as a supernova. She inspired GBaby, Gotta Be (Gb), Hikkies for Life, Mia Kwa Mia, mazalicias (to test her attachment), Brink of Your Love, Penzi Hili, Blak Cinderella, Niko Nawe, face the truth and Napagawa.

Yes, yes, so mazalicias! was a hoax; it’s a sample of what Photoshop can do! Arigi and Co. didn’t fall for this! This piece was duo-inspired by Gbaby and 5d.

This blog project was about exploring the truths that elude us daily. Truths like what really cut on 911. Am constantly trying hard to escape from this collective unconsciousness of media-orchastrated theatrics. Y’know, the CNNs, the Reuters. Is it real? What is real? What is truth? Do they matter? If they do, why? And to whom? I guess if you don’t try to sieve the truth from all this junk we are daily bombarded with, you’ll just be another dumb processor. Ati Saddam had WMDs……..
It was about questioning the things we absorb just from skimming the surface, like the Najivunia campaign. It was about absorbing the art and passions in my life, thru the Visual Poetic Weekends. It was about ripping words into lines into poetry.

It was about going back to square one when I thought I was taking some things for granted and so I let these thoughts in Little Things Mean Alot, Little Things Revisited get me back in track. You know the lessons taught to us by Boyz II Men. These two posts together with Romance for Dummies were inspired by my very special friend for the longest time, Tati.

There were many events in this blog, from WSF, to the countless WAPIs to the Concours, to the DCI. It was such fun exposing such going ons to y’all, I guess that’s one bit am gonna really miss. It felt kinda like reporting, kinda like educating.

Admittedly, Chase of the Ex was a below-the-belt at my ex. No regrets! It’s a climax of the blog project that revolved so much on the year me and her were faded most. From serenity in truth when it started to the chase of the ex, you'd think someone would learn a few. But would i be Bitter ama Betta?, maybe it ain't worth it, y’know? That maybe became a fact. And regardless of all these shit I went thru, I kept aiming Above the Rim. I learnt to let go, Press Delete and in between met Gb who blessed me with her mere presence. That post on ex might have been Uncouth, but when you've had enuff lemons and are waiting for the mango, you better be willing to face the truth, be real with yourself so that you can rebirth like the Phoenix. You’ve gotta live and learn (joe public!).

Aissa, my former Bosslady was a Princess Encounter and after she left, I wrote C'est La Vie. She’s one in a million. Word!

I used to think of past loves and why it seemed subsequent ones were becoming duller and duller and wrote Pixel Love of coz inspired by an old flame, R. And so are many other thoughts across the blog. I should have done a Swedish collabo with you!

Some dude I met on the way home one night inspired The Babel Tower Effect whilst he was busy conversing to me in Greek (yes literally) and I was responding in Sheng! We didn’t get anywhere!

In Case You Forgot was intended as a two-edged sword, depending on how you viewed it, it talked of love, but it was also about the glorious past of Islam.

SweetSoul was for my large-hearted and beautiful Aunt Mianda.

The Spider in the Complexities Series and Kwa Shina na Shida was for my Great Grandma.

Mocha! and the one and only Bartholomew/DJ Fisher/Muzungu! inspired Surfacescan. Whist i rediscovered DJ Fisher on Mocha!'s blog, it inspired Press Delete immediately after coz I related to what she was going thru during that time.

Ndesanjo, Akiey and Maitha inspired Vikongwe Vya Blogu! together with many mashairi across the blog. Representing Kiswahili to the fullest – msilale!

Kooko inspired Delectable and 911 : An Afterthought

Sue inspired Massage In a Bottle, teaser and co-wrote dream of you

Mshairi inspired Mshairi Holla! and her style infused into some of the poetry i write now.

Blessing in disguise and Constant State of Unfulfilled Desire were inspired by various unmentioned entities J.

The late Dedan Kimathi inspired 44 Years Later!!

Date You was inspired by Nyaiyaki - she didn't know, until a hint hit her.

Wangari and Wangari inspired Say What? and Unbloggable respectively.

Nur inspired Adrenalin

Ghetto Langu was inspired by Bongo Flava

Amina inspired Alpenglow.

All in all, there were many others who fuelled the blog project. Mo amin, Mr. Softcity, terri, nya, mbua, jq, Acolyte, msanii_xl, bankelele, mental. Thank you all.

A whole cycle of posts from Eight Cow Wife to We're On Fire had subtle but hinting connotations on my different relationships. If you’re curious, yes, the Dream Come True and so did the next Dream, albeit with a funky twist…haha!

After all, this project was Creative Expression with dozes of Reality. Something Mr. Softcity fuelled.

As for myself, its time to redirect my creative energies to other projects, so adios amigos!

Breaker, Breaker One, the GZA blogging out from Nairobi, Kenya. Keep it real y’all – and much Love!


Live, Learn, Love.

Marazzmatazz.
Ides of March, 2007

Poetic Visual Weekend V

Hey All,

This weekend was a blast, i've never seen such raw talent burst out in the open in kenya as i did in this WAPI themed Haki. There was a freestyle rap battle between different MCs but the cut-throat one was Kama vs Ojijo and damn, talent isn't even the word. These two cats are on an entirely different level. Word!

Graff as usual was represented with Bankslave, Uhuru, Swift and Esien doing their thing. i was impressed by Swift's do this time round, he switched from can to brush and the results were outstanding.

The t-shirt designs have also escalated to a new level - dude came up with Biggie/Tupac/Akon shirts airbrushed! Perfection on a tee! It's like wearing original artwork! My boy Alvin of Urbanphunk is one blazing creative right now, his apprarel are one of the things i don't bargain while buying. Yes, that hot!

Also, since the ides of march is approaching fast, i thought i'd share some of my previous paintings out here, they are Sunbath, Solitude, African Elephant and Blak Beauty.

visualpoetic weekend out!

Complexities VI – Her v/s Her

I don’t jua if any of you jamaz have landed into a situation such as this. Am sure some of you have. Tricky though.

You’re tight buddies with a mama. So tite infact you vybe like daily. She’d call on you, be on the phone until both your ears get hot. You’d call her and before you realize all the credit you put the same day kwishad.

Now there ain’t nothing going on between the two of you. Really. Its juz plain old friendship bordering on soul-mates. But to the outside eye, that’s not what it looks like; they can’t see you’re just friends.

The chic’s jama gets agitated by the mere mention of your name and your chic on the other divide feels “cheated” coz somehow there’s a level you connect with the other that you don’t with her.

Progressively, things get abit tangled up. You can feel the pressure from both sides. The other jama now wants to know what you’re about making daily rounds on his territory, and your chic now wants a clear indication if it’s her or her! Ides of March is approaching fast.

What do you do? Do you stay loyal to your friend (and its one of those soul-mates combinations) to the detriment of your relationship or you let go of it? What’s more, how do you start letting go? And can you let go even if this friendship is your relationship’s guiding light – y’know when things aren’t so rosy that side, your friend is the one who puts them back in perspective and makes the whole experience somewhat manageable?

Complexities V – The Twist: Does Trust Exist?

The future diplomat, Spyce, Akiey and Agiasi, nice responses. However, there's still some ticking inside that trust that needs cleaning.

Hypothetical situation. You’re in a relationship, deeply in love, whatever you construe love to be. Yes, 3000ft deep you see. You can’t see, hear nor think of nothing else. Then one day she comes to you and pours the "am expecting" truth on you. Right there, you know that you've been a bad, bad boy but chances are 80% its yours. You know that 80/20 rule is applied everywhere!

Problem though is you can't keep shaking the myriads of 20% other possibilities. Your thoughts are spinning to all those tiny little messages she used to get from these other "entities", to the times you had beef and you split for like a month or more, to the moments when your trust got tested. They are all now weighing down on you.

She's still right there waiting for your reaction which admittedly is hard to fake and forever slow to come. You manage a "heeeeey, wow" in between thoughts of "...what was his name..." The tricky bit is that your reaction isn't half convincing and it shakes the very foundation of both your trusts.

Remember those Powers of Men quotes? .... A man has the power to make a woman feel like a woman and the turn around and make her wish she wasn't born? Or a man has the power to make a woman feel loved, appreciated beyond and yet turn around and make her feel rejected and torn.....

If you were the mama, tell me, where does it go from here?

Complexities IV – Does Trust Exist?

Hypothetical situation. You’re in a relationship, deeply in love, whatever you construe love to be. Yes, 3000ft deep you see. You can’t see, hear nor think of nothing else. She comes to you one day and says she thinks she’s about to become a mother. You heard right, coz your head spins, a mother to whom? Did she say think? How is it possible? From where? You are lost in questions and as they progress, a clear trail of doubt(s) begins to emerge. You think of all those moments and still wonder how it could be. You have even forgotten she’s staring blankly at you waiting for whatever people wait for at moments like this. Approval, joviality, caution, or the worst, rejection. She even mentions it’s you, but you didn’t hear that bit…or you chose not to hear it.

Now jamaz, put yourself in such a predicament (at least it would be if it happened to me). What would you say as your reacting words? Or how would you react to such a bold and finalizing statement, “It’s You”. And mamaz, if it was you saying that to a jamaa, how would you be expecting him to react? I might be wrong but I reckon the majority of you will be expecting approval in terms of joy, some form of support. Well, educate me!

I ask ‘coz I thought about it and concluded if I was caught in such a situation, then it would be the most single defining moment of my relationship’s trust. And depending on how we both handle it......

Date You

Now that you want a date, someone to change the tone and taste, of things you’ve been doing, people you’ve been seeing, thoughts you’ve been having//
Yeah, am thinking I can be in all your plans, all your dreams I’ll cram, all your fav things I’ll learn//
And then shine them back to you like this naked sun//
Intensely drape them in nothing, but pampering and sweet nothings//
Yet, if you take this step, and I take the next, who knows might become something//
And make it worth your while, in style, am sure to bring the glow back into your smile//
Keep it there for the longest while//
Its inside there, just faded with the love well gone drier//

In between love lines you‘ll be searching for clues//

When you explore the possibilities, half a chance to tackle you, make the glow in your adorable eyes sparkle, become your heart’s call, you’ll take this chance//
And get it rolling, after all it’s just a date, maybe just this once//
Nurture it to become something you’d be feeling, the commonness antidote//
Not like anything you ever thought to sort//
After that we proceed to//

Dazzling you, lay back, let me adorn your thoughts with fact, your desires with tact, anticipation//
And wrap your hopes with exact, expectation//
Then pour passion like our red dinner candle dripping wax, exhilaration//
Embody the way you wanna be treated, shower you in relaxed, adoration//

Yearn for little things that give me an edge over the rest//
Outwit them till you fall through the stars straight into my arms//
Until you have no doubt to date you I should be the one.

44 Years Later!

It’s a crying shame and an unfortunate sarcasm that we are finally able to recognize Kenya’s foremost freedom fighters after 44 years. Moreover, just one – Field Marshall Dedan Kimathi Wachiuri. Whatever happened to all the rest who fought alongside and under his marshal? Don’t they deserve some kind of honorary acknowledgment too? Tumewacha mbachao kwa msala upitao, tusishtuke tutakapo ambulia patupu!

It’s a crying shame and an unfortunate sarcasm that when we purport to celebrate the essence of this inauguration which is FREEDOM, we are muffled by formalities that stifle that very freedom. I was arrested taking photos of the monumental launch! My crime was taking the damn photos!!!!!!! 44 years after our so-called independence, ordinary Kenyans cannot take fu@#%$ ordinary photos in public?! And at that of their freedom protagonists! Yet they keep telling us to shout “Najivunia kuwa Mkenya”! Utajuvunia vipi kama huru chache hizi huna?

It’s a crying shame and an unfortunate sarcasm that not only was this recognition long, long overdue, but also the audacity that such an occasion can be used to dampen the liberties that these great women and men fought for is outright appalling! Kuna sababu wanaiitwa Mashujaa wa Uhuru!

It’s a crying shame and an unfortunate sarcasm that our leaders are still living in the analog days where owning a camera meant you had a studio! Hallo! Camphones, camcorders and camera-ipod-phones are the jargon of this generation that you are blindly leading! That means a photo is a by-the-way-fu#%$^&*-stick-your-middle-finger-out snap! We need ask rights for that? Hawa wazee wamechoka, sioni hata Energizer ikiwasaidia!

At this rate, I think it should be around 2051 when we come round to appreciating the efforts of the revolutionaries of our time - Githogo et al. Damn! So analog-minded, no wonder they just can’t comprehend how the taped messages were done! Huku wakisema wakenya tuna uhuru kushinda hapo kitambo? Can you define uhuru?????????? What we have is In-Dependence.

So at the end of it all, i managed only the photo above, maybe appropriate. Freedom hidden in some patriotic false cover!

Mshairi Holla!

mshairi! been trying to upload my comments on your site but alas! you've had some incredible poetry and i have been feeling the posts but it bugs that i can't comment - some technical hitches! the post you have currently is equally impressive, its great you holla on graff art! inspiring to say the least ...... i hope this uploads, and more importantly, that you see it!

And the poem i promised you looooooooooooooooooooong ago, almost to the point when we transcribed our emotions on cave walls to stand the pages of ages.

Mshairi

loved the smile word playing poet

her lines drifted me to that duet

in quiet basement siestas

in solitude where i thought

daydreamed and internalised

her smile

her play on unspoken words

flood my mind with blind infatuation

her style

her say on unsung ballads

Complexities III - The Spider

This life is like a spider’s web. The flimsiest of all that you can fall back on, yet to the owner, seems so strong and so dependable. Our claim to this fleeting space is filled with nothingness, yet we seem to cling onto it like it was eternity itself. We ourselves are the epicenter of this desolation and selfishness ensuring that everything else revolves around us. Anything that comes into our radii of clout, we quickly squash, chase away or simply stifle with our egocentrism. Yet, in a swift swing of time, the web we so painstakingly and intricately weaved and then called it our life is hurled into nothingness, the empty spaces it leaves behind inherited by others doomed to counter the same fate. Wind-blown, discarded and isolated, we learn only too late how we could have been so much better, so much fuller. We learn to love and to shower caring to vacuity when these things matter no more.

We just lowered my Great grandmother to her grave and whilst others thought of it as her final resting place, I thought of it as the beginning of her epic journey. A journey to eternal bliss. Great wasn’t just her title for being a third generation from me. Great was her title for the way she lived her life and when it mattered most, how she swung with the wind. She had unlocked the secret to life, effectively making everything in nature subservient to her needs. Great were her ways that flowed in my grandmother and my mother and onto all of us who claimed her as the root. I could feel the oneness like branches of giant Baobabs feel their bulk stump. Great was her journey just beginning and great was the loss we just bore.

Great lessons are being taught everyday around us but it seems little sinks in. We have become hardened by the silver tubes in our homes continuously splashing images of negativity. Africa weeps, Iraqis die and these sequential persuasions feed our souls, stripping away our humanity. I mistrust all the talk about solving these problems while they only seem to spill over. I desperately hold the hope that I myself have not passed that point of being bereft of any form of erudition. Everyday, men are being snatched away from all around us, to a sanctuary secure, where the living cannot penetrate and still we cast doubts to meeting the Great One. Deluded by worldly enjoyment, we’d rather keep this one eye closed to these truths and the other on our amusements. Hypnotized in this state of distraction, our appointed term reaches us effortlessly, plucking our feeble web. If there was only one lesson sufficient for men to learn from, it would have to be death.


All these thoughts came flooding when as we lay wreathes of flowers on her grave, a spotless white spider crawled unnoticed from underneath one of the large leaves and disappeared under another. I thought to myself what a parable. The spider in her own world believes her web to be secure and indomitable. But all it takes is a baby’s waft to destroy it. Have you ever thought how God views our world?

100th Post - Yeah Baby!

Man, though its been a long time coming, i can't believe this is actually my 100th post! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Najipongeza!

my original 100th post was hijacked at the WSF yesterday so i'll call this my 100th post part I! i decided rather than bashing the forum for what i consider to be NGOism laid-back-no-actionism, i'd go to the venue (this time uhuru park) nijionee kile hawa watu wote walikusanyika kwayo. a stone-throw from my place, i got there in the middle of the raining sun, hottest at its peak. impressive, there were like several thousand jamaz braving the heat to listen, demo and chat. Niliwasili just in time for nobel laureate Wangari Maathai's speech and went ahead to take a few snaps courtesy of the podium access from my man Blaze. this woman is phenomenal, standing there, saying such simple words but whose meaning sink to the depth of your humanity and you suddenly feel the rush to stand up and do something!

i talked WSF with a few people and some wreckon it might fade off into some social jamboree gathering of some kind, whilst others truly believe in its ability to change and shape social policies. am kinda in betwixt the two sentiments. there is some impact that has been derived from the WSF, notably the voice that has gotten to the (near) cancellation of third world debts, boycotting of slope-sided economic agreements etc, yet some of the major issues like poverty, sanitation, corruption seem unabated. to my surprise, i imagined the WSF to have been "the place to be" for all the "bonos" trying to do something about the world's social ills. the absence couldn't be more deafening. all in all, there was a cauldron of great people there and i managed kujiingiza miongoni mwao, felt different - among them my fav Bongoflava artist Prof J, Danny Glover (in yellow), Kenneth Kaunda, Soul Force, Eric Wainaina, Nyota Ndogo and the list went on and on.

someone argued we don't need celebrities to have a meaningul WSF, but i think it could do with the high profile PR. i mean, don't we see all these social events they appear in making the needed impact? ok, forget about madonna and the adoption, am talking nas "i know i can".