waruguru wa kiai

Ordinary Mind and I; He started it!

August 12 2014 Ordinary Mind wrote


So you want to compare me with that handsome Mexican in that soap opera,
How he is rich, with cars and a vast land of passion fruit plantation,
How he models for Forbes magazine and rides a horse during his leisure time,
So you want to compare my house with his palace,
My tuft hair with his curly one,
His designer outfit that perfectly embraces his six pack…

So you want to compare my ex girlfriend with that leading actress in that soap opera,
How she wears expensively and how she hold that wine glass with elegance,
Her smooth skin, and pretty face,
How she drives a sports car and has so may maids that do every household chore for her,How she prettily falls deeply in love
So you want to compare my kid with hers,
You want to compare our love with the perfect love portrayed in soap opera,

Okay,let us start from the very beginning,
You see,I was born and raised in Homa bay,
My mother would overfeed me with sweet potatoes and a calabash of sour porridge in the morning before I run bare foot to school,
After school I would go swim in Lake Victoria,
My skin got cracked and my eyes developed cataracts,
My belly got swollen with roundworms after a decade of feeding on ‘omena’ for supper,
I would chew sugarcane pulled from a moving tractor.
I developed weird behaviors and I had my first sexual encounter when I was eleven,
I enjoyed watching donkeys have rough sex right at the open air market,
I also started drinking at an early age,
I had gone to visit my aunt in Busia,
She used to brew ‘chang’aa and busaa for sale,

And my ex girlfriend,
She was born and raised in Kariobangi,
When she was still young,she would wrestle boys older than her,
That is why she has muscles on her neck and breasts,
She would help her step mother sell ‘mandazis’ by the road side,
Hot cooking oil would sputter and burn her legs,
Dust from the road would pass under her skirt and stain her only pant,
She would wear bra bought at Kariobangi open air market,
And that is why her aureola has got infections,
Her hair has never been shampood,
After delivering our baby she left me,
She could not understand that paradise is where love dwells,
There,love it shined with diamonds and jewels,
But ghetto is always where love is less,
There,love ends with empty promises.

And our kid,
He was born in Huruma nursing and maternity hospital and was held hostage for two months because of unpaid hospital bills,
She grew up with slum children,
He would play in the mud and come home looking like a small warthog,
We later moved to Athi river,
There he would play with broken bottles of ‘moonwalkers’,
He would swim in dust and appear bleached,with white hair and white legs,
Dark smoke from industries would fill his nostrils,
Sometimes he would spend the whole day bedridden with a terrible diarrhea,
Then later I would learn that he had eaten donkey’s droppings,
He said that he thought they were scones,

So before you compare me with that rich neighbor whose daughter in studying abroad,
Before you compare me with my college mate who is now driving a car,
Before you compare my single room with my friend’s bedsitter,
Before you judge me without first knowing my story,
Make my kid understand,
Make him understand that a donkey is not a horse,
And its droppings are not scones.

August 13, 2014 I wrote

So you run to the hills
To rage at every willing ear
About me and my one hour-everyday-affair with ajehandro
Am told you made a scene at the village square
Dressed in ash you chained your form to the only flag post at homa bay chief’s camp and run mad.

I heard you demanded for ajehandro’s presence
That you wanted to dangle your penis on his face to remind him that you were created on a friday evening
When the first batch of clay had arrived.

I heard of your plans to bend over and scream while shaking your bare buttocks at the sight of ajehandro.
That you even had a song composed,

“My buttocks black as coal from swimming at victoria
My stomach confesses pregnancy from packing worms and sweet potatoes
My cracked feet turned stone from chasing white man’s books
My hair is no bread and butter
But my penis!
My penis long like new road
Spitting pregnancy across all villages
On a quiet night my penis stirs problems-soon there is screaming and stars fill the sky chanting salute for the king,bow for the king…”

I heard it took hours to get you from the post
All men having failed except her
The old woman who vowed to show you her dry breast
I heard you agreed to leave but not before insisting on ajehandro
That he was a land grabber whose attempts to compete with jomo’s son would fail
Can you own a province ajehandro, can you?
That his curly hair was nothing more than tonnes of milking jelly
That his naked chest had demonic stairs leading straight to hell
And that his cars were mere display of shinny scrap metal.

Before I judge your public demonstration
Before I call the elders to remind them that you sleep while facing the wall
Before I roll on the ground and accuse of of denying me my meat
Before I tell my mother to remind me how it feels when a man sweats on top of me
Before I lose my presbyterian manners and confess my throbbing lust for the spanish hunk on my TV
How he rides me in my sleep…with his horse
Before eight pm tonight
Make me understand
Why you enjoyed rough sex with donkeys right at the open air market.



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