Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The beginnings - fragile

Mama Salma hadn't always been a madam. Well it's obvious she couldn't have been born one. At one time she was a semi famous model. To understand her you have to understand her story. Salma Mrembo as she used to be called, was born in Lamu. She was the product of a liaison between a teenage Giriama girl and aBritish soldier who was stationed at one of the barracks there. The father, a Mr. Micheal refused to take responsibility for the pregnancy. Well he was already married in Britain and so he was just having some fun. Its not like it was anything serious.

Well it was serious. The Giriama girl was chased away from home by her parents. Those days unlike now, if you got pregnant it was a big shame on you and a bigger one on your family. She moved to mainland mombasa town where she used to plait hair. After giving birth to Salma, she was introduced to the night life by a couple of friends and since it was easy money she became a lady of the night. In those days, the sixties money was flowing. The country had gotten independence and there was lots of money to be made in development projects and industries so times were good.

In short order, Salma had two brothers and one sister of mixed heritage. But among the swans she was the most beautiful. She had inherited her dad's hazel eyes, she had long, straight brown hair, light complexion, and she had a beautiful face. As soon as she reached teenage she developed a nice coke cola shape. She was beautiful and the men wanted her. Salma however, had a brain. She did not plan to be a man's play thing or be a baby factory like her mother. She wanted to go to school and she did. She went to Old Mombasa primary and then went to a high school called Princess of York High school which was later renamed.

She went up to form four. She wanted to go up to form six but her mother was of the opinion girls should not read too much. “it will make you proud and then you will not make a good wife,” her mother would say.

“i wish she knew. I am going to marry a rich man and I will entertain his guests and be his companion.” thought Salma.

She got a job working in reception for one of the hotels. Many male guests would flatter, flirt with her and ask her out on dates which she politely declined. She was specific in the type of man she wanted to get. That is until she met Roger who fed her a dream for another life and she abandoned her plans for snagging a rich man to marry.

Roger came in one hot July day at around 3 o'clock for the first time. Salma was at the reception and she was wearing a white blouse which she had unbuttoned to her bra line to get some air. She had propped up her legs on a chair and she was taking a siesta. Business had been slow that day and she had drifted off to sleep in boredom.

Roger stood there and stared at her for a while then he rang the bell that was situated on the corner of the desk. Salma woke up to see this handsome guy staring at her. He had green eyes, sandy blond hair, broken nose and he had terrible sunburn, he was red like a lobster.

“can i get a room angel, if its not too much trouble. This blooming heat, it's as hot as hell!” the man said in a British accent. “sorry to wake ya, doll. You looked so pretty sleeping there. Nice view from here i can tell you that.”the man said.

Salma booked him a room then the man asked where he could get something for his sunburn. “a couple of doors down there's a pharmacy. You can get something there.”

“I hate to impose, darling but can you go get me some. I feel like am about to faint and i promise you it will not be pretty!” the man smiled and Salma felt like she could literally melt. She had never gotten a reaction like this before.

Salma agreed quickly wanting to get out of his presence and get her balance back. “my name's Tony but i guess you already know that. Seeing as to how you registered me. Thanks love for going to get me the cream. Could you also get me some painkillers while your there” tony gave her some money and sat in a chair to wait for her. Salma called someone to stand in for her at the reception and went out.

Tony admired the view as Salma went out. “I sure would like to get to know that lady better. My my what a pretty butterfly.” he thought to himself.

to be continued.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

fragile part 4 - story of sexual exploitation of a young gal

“My name is Bubbles. Your name is Carol, isn’t it? At least that’s what I heard,” the lady said.

I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to get over with eating because Mama Salma had forced me. I wanted to go back to bed. I didn’t want to have some small talk with this lady.

“Am so sorry. I’m bubbling that’s why I’m called Bubbles. I heard what happened to you? There are some sick men out there.”

Just then Natalie came back with some soup and small rolls of bread. I wondered is that all they were going to give me. I ate the food before me with gusto. I was really hungry. When I was done I thought Natalie would take me back to my room. She told me to wait for the second course. I didn’t know what that meant but I soon found out.

Natalie went off with my bowl and the plate. In the meantime bubbles who had gone to get a glass of wine took the opportunity to get back to where I was sitting. Frankly I did not want to talk to anyone but my parents had taught me not to be rude to grown-ups so I didn’t tell her I wanted to be alone.

“You know you are the first young girl under the age of eighteen to be brought here. The gals here,” she swept the room with her hand, well they usually come here when Mama Salma makes them a proposition they can’t refuse.” I didn’t know that word “proposition” and I didn’t want to talk so I just listened. “Many of the gals here came on their own. Mama Salma is pretty good at getting what she wants. She offers money, a good life and a life of luxury, now which gal would refuse a deal like that.” She laughed, yet when I looked at her she looked sad. I don’t know what was going on in her mind.

Bubbles said, “anyway Mama Salma decided that since there was demand she would start a new sideline of supplying young girls to willing buyers. It seems there are quite abit of men who wouldn’t mind paying a lot for under age girls. I guess you can say you were the experiment. She seems very happy with how it has gone.”

At that moment Natalie came back. She didn’t seem too happy with Bubbles talking to me. “Bubbles take your gossip somewhere else. And if you need to get drunk don’t do it in my presence.” She clicked her tongue at Bubbles. Bubbles stood up and left.

“Don’t associate with that one. She is a gossip and a drunk. Don’t listen to anything she says. She is just a bitter girl. Now eat. Mama Salma is coming in soon and I want her to find you haven’t eaten. What did I do to be rated a babysitter?”

I sat there and stared at the plate. It had some kind of pilau, some chicken, vegetables and some kind of coated brown food that I couldn’t tell what it was. I took a bite and realized it was fish. Now there was something I loved. I dug into the food and ate everything.

Natalie had by then gone to drink wine with some of the other ladies I had seen. They kept looking at me and then they would sneer or say something in hushed tones. I felt so alone. I wanted to go back to my room actually I wanted to get out of this place. I can’t believe when I came here I thought I would be safe. That someone would take care of me. To realise that I was just a pawn to be used was to me even at that tender age very painful.

After about half an hour Mama Salma came into the room with a tall, dark, handsome man. All the ladies hurried to chairs around the table and sat down. Mama Salma was dressed in a red satin dress that clung to her breasts, hips and thighs. It had a slit at the side that ran up to mid thigh. She was wearing red shoes and had a red big handbag to match. She had on some red lipstick and some blue eye shadow that made her look, in my opinion, very scary.

“I would like to thank you all for being available tonight. I will release you in a couple of minutes. As you can see am on my way out. I just wanted to have a formal welcome to our new housemate, Mama Salma said. “Stand up Carol.” I stood up, holding on to the table so as to balance.

“I want you all to treat carol nicely. Don’t bully her or play those tricks you usually play on each other. I will be very unhappy if I hear that you have done anything to her. Treat her like your beloved sister. Carol here will be making me a lot of money and I want her taken care of. From tomorrow carol you will start your lessons. I pride myself on having the most beautiful girls but they must also be intelligent and behave like ladies. I don’t want any of my girls to embarrass me. Tomorrow Carlos here will start teaching you how to speak proper English. He will also teach you some French, Spanish, Italian and German. Those are the languages our customers speak and so you need to learn some of that. That is all. Girls behave yourselves. Some of you are getting drunk on the job and I promise there will be some disciplinary action if you don’t stop.”

Mama Salma and Carlos went out. After a few minutes the atmosphere changed. The girls broke out dancing and laughing. Natalie came for me and escorted me to my room. She explained to me that the girls needed to get ready. Their clients were coming to pick them up. It seemed Mama Salma did not like the men to sleep inside her house so they came picked up their choice for the night and then left with them. Later on I heard this is what she did so that if by unfortunate chance the police raided her house they would not find any men there. The house was apparently called, “ladies of distinction modelling agency.” She had listed her house as a business which trained and acted as agents for models but that was just a front.

In my room I felt like I was in a jail with no bars. I hate this place but I couldn’t leave. Well at least on my own volition. I sat on my bed and wept. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring but whatever it was I was scared to face it. And in the dark this is the poem I composed.

Big plastic smile on my face.
Inside am crying for my innocence.
Used to be happy but now happiness is just a word I hear.
I have everything material but nothing emotional.
Am dead inside.
I was a fragile flower.
But then I was cut and crushed by cruel hands.
I am broken inside yet outside I function.
I don’t believe in God because a loving God wouldn’t let this happen to me.
I hate men.
They are all pretenders.
They pretend that they are nice, loving and caring.
They are not, they are beasts that crush innocence,
and wear blood like it’s a trophy for sport.
One crushed my delicate flower.
Others waited in the wings to stomp out the good in me.
I hate, I hate with a passion what I have become but I am a prisoner.
I can’t escape my capturers they have conquered my mind.
Told me am nothing that they have made me sum thing of value.
Put a price tag on my flesh.
Invisible chains hold me to this place.
I am fragile, broken, and old in knowledge yet still a child.
Am a woman in experience but a child in mind.
Am fragile yet I haven’t broken.
Scattered yet held together by will
And a plastic smile.

rock of ages

You cant seem to remember the last time you were happy. Your life is shattered, fragments in time that mock you and the dreams you had. Your heart is bleeding yet your mouth is plastered in a plastic smile that doesn't reach your eyes. At night you cry in bed, because you don't know how you will get through the next day, week, month or year. Your bills are pilling up, your always borrowing never lending. Then you have that job you hate, that doesn't fuel your dreams nor adequately pay your bills. Sometimes you fear it will all come crashing down.

Give it all to Jesus, those doubts, those broken shattered dreams, that broken heart. Lay it at the cross. No Jesus is not a magician. He wont make your trouble go away. But he can change things around for you if it's in his will for you. He can part the seas for you like he did the Egyptians. He can provide sustainance for you. He is the mender of broken hearts, the creator of romance. All silver and gold are his.

So don't give up, trade up to the love that never fails and a hope that never dies. He stands his arms open wide, a symbol of the cross, ready to receive you and love you. Jesus doesn't promise to take your problems away but he promises to be there through the storms. God will never give you more then you can endure and he will always provide a way. Put your trust in him because he is the rock that cant be shaken, the love that keeps giving eternally and the master planner that has a plan for your life.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Dollhouse blues

He loves the plastic me,
The one who is always smiling and never criticizes.
The one he loves is sort of like Echo in dollhouse,
She can be molded to what he wants.
He loves the sexy me,
The one that used to dress in lingerie for him.
To tease and entice him, to seduce him.
Little does he know the seductive wrappings hides emotional scars,
Like stretch marks that are hid in the light of day.
He loves my mind
But didn't know I battled with insecurities about me and him.
He doesn't know I had to try and keep positive about us,
When everyone was talking down on us.
He sees only me encouraging him not to give up,
Yet doesn't see me trying to encourage myself not to give up on us.
I showed him my angel side
But slept with my demons under the pillow.
I was all he wanted in a woman,
But I, I wonder if it was a farce?
Was I true to me or just pretending?
Because under these masks,
These clothes lies a woman unsure of who she is.
She used to know but ain't sure no more.
She searches beyond the plastic smiles,
She wants to search herself deeper,
Then just for sexual desire or pleasure.
This woman wants to make sense of who, what and where she is.
She needs to evolve, to know self.

Friday, December 17, 2010

fragile part 3 (a story of a young gal being sexually exploited)

The first thing I saw as Mama Salma and Natalie standing near my bed. They were talking and laughing. When Mama Salma saw I was awake she came towards the bed.

“Child you did such a great job. Jeffrey was very impressed with you. Now you belong here. You get some rest we will talk later.” Mama Salma said. She leaned over and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

In that moment I felt something I had never felt before in my life. Intense hatred. It burned in me I cant explain it but I hated this woman with everything in my being. I turned in bed and looked the other way. I hurt everywhere; I felt I hurt even deep into my soul. My body felt like it had met a battering ram. I forgot it had.

Mama Salma and Natalie left the room. I saw at the door a female guard. This time she stayed inside. Mama Salma wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything harsh. Maybe she thought I would jump out of the window. Believe me that day and many other times after that I thought about it but I guess am a coward I couldn’t go through with it.

I stayed in bed for a week. I cried and prayed. I thought finally that God didn’t care about me. He abandoned me in that house. In that house the gods that were worshiped were money and sex. I stopped praying. I didn’t pray for the next 6 years. I refused to eat anything. I wish I could say I didn’t drink anything but I was overwhelmingly thirsty. I thought, “If I don’t eat I will waste away and die.”

Mama Salma wisely stayed away. Natalie came to check in on me periodically. She would talk to me like nothing had happened. It’s only once that I saw a crack in her mask. She told me, “You have to be strong. Don’t let them break you. The biggest revenge you can have on them is not to break. They want to break you. That’s their purpose and plan” she didn’t say who “them” were but I understood.

The doctor would come every day. He would ask me to part my legs and then he would check my privates to see how they were healing. He used to put some kind of medicine to help me heal up, at least that’s what he said. The first day he had come, the time when he drugged me to take me back to Mama Salma’s he had stitched me up. I had gotten torn up pretty bad because I was small, not old enough to have sex.

I used to play the memories of my childhood in my head like a tape. To try and forget what had happened. I would focus on the happy times I had with my parents. My parents had wanted many children but unfortunately when I was born the doctors at Pumwani botched up the c-section and so my mum couldn’t have other kids. I would play pretend in my mind that they were still around and that we were having fun the way we used to. Sometimes I could pretend for up to an hour but when I moved around the bed and the pain started again I couldn’t hold on to the fantasies.

After one week Mama Salma came into the room with Natalie. She said, “No more sleeping girl. Its time you came back to the land of the living. I hear you are refusing to eat. You will eat or you will discover that crossing me will be the most painful decision you will ever make. Natalie give her a bath and then bring her downstairs.”

Natalie sponge bathed me and dressed me up. She took me downstairs taking the lift. It was painful to walk but I had to. The tone Mama Salma had used told me I would be in very big trouble if I didn’t obey her.

We went to the first floor dining room. I had never been there before. It looked like something I had seen in a movie about how a dining room should look like. There were serving dishes on the side of the room and there were some women in uniform standing there dishing out food.

In the room were about twelve beautiful women. They were different. Some were short, others tall. Their complexion range was from dark black to a lady who was white or something close to it. They stood in groups talking and laughing. They all got quiet though when I entered. They looked at me from top to bottom. I felt shy because I had never felt such hostile eyes on me before or maybe I had never noticed. Then just as suddenly they started talking again. I got the feeling that they were discussing me.

Natalie led me to a chair somewhere in the middle of the huge table that had been set up with dishes, folks and spoons. Later on I was told that the cultured word for this was cutlery. Natalie asked, “What will you eat?”

I didn’t know what they had on offer so I just told her to get me whatever was there. She went off to get me food. I was left there at the big table hoping that the ground would come and swallow me.

“Hi.” I heard a cheerful voice saying to me. I had to turn and look at this person addressing me. The lady addressing me was a short, plump but very beautiful woman with a chocolate brown complexion. She smiled and then sat down.

“They are all jealous of you, she said. Nodding her head towards the other ladies in the groups. No client has ever paid the amount that was paid for you.”

I didn’t know what to say so I just shut up.

End of part 3

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Fragile - a story of sexual exploitation of a young gal.(sexual slavery)

My house is at the top of the hill. You can’t miss it; it’s the white three story mansion that is bordered almost all around by the slums. Except for the side that faces Muthaiga and which has a private driveway. It’s a beautiful house it actually looks like a castle. The kind a gal dreams about to live in and live happily ever after. I wish it was. Appearances are deceiving because that is a castle of nightmares.

My name is carol. I started living here two years ago when I was ten. My parents died in an accident and there was no one to claim me. Mama Salma said that she would take me in. No one argued, well no one would dare too. Mama Salma supports half of the slum I used to live in, in one way of another.

“Carol you are going to be very happy with me. All my gals are happy. And you are so pretty, in a couple of years you will be beautiful. Yes, you will do. Yes, you will do very nicely.” Mama Salma told me. It’s a good thing I didn’t know what she meant else I would have refused to go with her.

We walked to the edge of the slum with Mama Salma. Her with her beautiful fashionable clothes and me with my hand me down second hand clothes. A Mercedes picked us up from the edge of the slum and drove towards a gated compound just next to the slum. The gates opened themselves as if by magic and I only discovered later that they were called electric gates.

As the white mansion neared I was caught up in amazement at the lawn and the compound the likes of which I had only seen on TV. The mansion was big, a massive three floors. The inside was even more impressive. It was painted in shades of red and cream and the floors were marble. It was beautiful. I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

I was taken to the second floor. The pretty lady who took me there smiled and opened for me a room. “This will be your room,” she said. I was stunned. I asked, “I will be sharing this room with others children?”

“No! it’s just you. We need to get you out of those awful clothes. You need to get clean and then we will de-lice you. We can’t have you not looking beautiful. Come let me show you the bathroom.”

I wondered what it is about beauty that attracted these people. I had noticed that all the people I had met had been either handsome or beautiful. People told me I was pretty. My daddy actually used to tell me I was beautiful and when I would grow up I would turn heads.

I was short; I had pretty brown eyes, a light brown complexion and long natural hair. I hadn’t started blooming yet. My breasts had not come out and neither had my hips. I was a rose about to bloom. Looking back to then when I was naïve and innocent I was a rose ripe to be picked and bloom in someone’s garden.

After I had been washed, (I found this strange as I had not been washed since I was 4) the pretty lady who had introduced herself as Natalie, went out and when she returned she had some beautiful dresses and sandals. “Pick one and wear it,” Natalie said.

I was unsure of what to choose. I had never had new, new clothes. All my clothes had been bought second hand from the market or handed down to me by my cousins. I choose a yellow sundress and some pretty red sandals.

Natalie sat me down after that and told me there were rules to be followed in the house. The first rule is that I was never to go anyone unaccompanied by someone from the house. The second was that what happened in the house was private it was not for telling to strangers. The third was that I should never try to run away or break any of the above rules otherwise I would be punished. The fourth rule was that I was not to leave my room without permission. Natalie asked me whether I understand and I said I did.

Natalie said with a sad smile, “you don’t have to stay here. Do you have any relatives that you can go stay with? You have one chance to leave and that’s right now.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” said I.

Natalie sighed and then said, “Well now that you’re here to stay I’ll be taking care of you.” She reached for the telephone, dialled some numbers and said, “Please bring some food for Carol. Some chips, chicken, and a soda will do. And ice-cream for desert.”

Natalie looked at me and told me, “If you need me press three. That’s my number. Enjoy your food.”

I was left in this room that was big enough to fit our old house plus another two. There was a big bed in the middle of the room. It had a pink bedspread, pink frills and even a mosquito net. I thanked God for these wonderful strangers who had taken me in and had given me luxury that I had never imagined. At home I used to sleep on a mattress on the floor because there was only one bed, my parent’s 3 by 4.

For the next two weeks I never left my room. I watched TV on a big screen TV that was brought to my room. I ate, showered and relaxed that’s all I did. In fact I started adding abit of weight on my bones.

One day when I was watching TV Natalie came and ordered me to bath. “We are having special guests tonight. They all want to see you. They have heard how pretty you are and they want to see you for themselves,” she said.

Natalie took me to the bathroom and this time again she washed me then she braided my hair into cornrows. She oiled me with some fragrantly smelling oil and sprayed some perfume on me. When we returned to my room there was a lacy dress that did not seem to have any lining. Wear that, I was ordered. I was puzzled but I was too frightened to speak. Natalie had this expression on her face I cant describe it but I felt scared. There was no underwear and when I asked for some I was told it doesn’t matter. She gave me a glass with some juice and told me to drink it. It tasted funny but since I didn’t want to argue I drank it up.

We went downstairs through a lift that was at the end of the corridor. I was taken to a large room where there were many chairs and a sort of stage with one seat. I was told to seat there. There were men in the room, no women except Mama Salma and Natalie. Natalie came and stood by me. The men were drinking. I was young but I knew the smell of alcohol.

I sat there feeling so uncomfortable. I was wondering who these men were and what they were doing there. And all these men were looking at me. They were around 20 of them. Some old and some young. They all had one thing in common. They all looked rich. Having lived in the slum you can tell when someone had money. You can look at their face, nails and hands and clothes and you can tell.

After a while mama Salma stood and clapped. She smiled and said, “welcome gentlemen. It is our honour to host you again at our lovely abode. Today we have a tasty morsel for you. We have managed to acquire into our family a young untouched gal. She is a virgin and she is up for sale. We will start bidding at 120,000 thousand. Gentlemen come look at the merchandise. Isn’t she beautiful?”

At this point I was shaking. I looked around; I thought they were talking about someone else. But when the men started walking towards me with leery grins I realised I was in trouble. I was in deep deep trouble. I couldn’t believe that this could be happening to me. I started feeling dizzy and my heart was racing. I tried to stand and run away. Natalie held me down to the chair. For some reason I was feeling tired and my muscles were not obeying my commands.

When the first man came and started touching my face and caressing it, I fainted!

When I awoke I felt groggy. I was shaking and I couldn’t understand why. Then I looked down and saw that I was naked, just covered with a sheet on my bed. Then I remembered what had happened in that room. I started crying.

Natalie came to me and told me to hush. “Why are you crying? Crying will not change anything. You are very valuable. Do you know how much your virginity is worth? She paused and chuckled. There’s a man who will pay 100,000 dollars to be your first. And you had better make it worth his while.”

I trembled. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Who were this people? Why did this man want to take my virginity? Growing up in the slum and having to sleep in the same one room with my parents I knew what sex was. Sex was something grownups did together. So why did this man want to sleep with me? I understood that losing my virginity was sleeping with a man.

I was puzzled by this. I asked Natalie, “Why are you doing this?” Natalie smiled and said, "My darling one day you will learn that sex makes the world go round. It is a currency. It is power. Whoever controls it is powerful. Always remember that. There are many men who want sex and are willing to pay a lot of money for it.”

For the next two weeks I was a prisoner. I was not allowed to leave my room. There was a security guard posted outside my door so that I could not escape. Every day twice a day there was a woman who came, scrubbed me down with some portions and massaged my skin with fragrant oils. My skin was glowing and became so soft.

I cried and pleaded with Natalie to stop what was going to take place. She didn’t listen. I spend my time crying and praying for salvation. None came. It seemed that there was no hope for me.

One morning a hairdresser came to my room. My hair was natural. She put chemicals on it and straightened it. Then she put curls in it. She cleaned, painted my toenails and nails with clear nail polish. She tweezed my eyebrows and did a facial for my skin.

I was then washed in the tub and massaged with fragrant oils and lotions. I was made to wear a white dress and white sandals. There were flowers put in my hair. I was so frightened because I guessed that the dreaded day had come. I tried to plea for salvation to those who were attending me but no one was moved.

Later a man I was told was a doctor came to examine me. He checked me all over and then gave me an injection. I found out later it was drugs to make me relax and not be tense.

A car came for me. Natalie came with me. I was taken to the other side of town. We passed through the slum on the way out and I looked at my former neighbourhood. I wished I could go back there to play and stay. I couldn’t believe that a couple of weeks ago I was there. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

After about an hour we reached our destination. We had been stuck in jam for about 30 minutes. I had tried to plead again with Natalie but she wouldn’t listen. At some point she got annoyed and told me in a harsh tone to shut up. I shrunk into my seat and kept quiet.

When we arrived at the destination I was surprised. The biggest, grandest house I had ever seen was Mama Salma’s house but this was bigger and grander. From outside it was coloured in orange and cream paint. The driveway was long, with gardens and green lawns stretching beside it.

When we reached the house a man dressed in uniform came and opened the door. He ushered us into the house. I later found out that this man was a butler, apparently rich people have people who open and close for them their front door. They also welcome their guests. It seemed that there were no other servants; I found out later too that they had been sent away.

We walked through and a large corridor filled with paintings and sculptures. I was taken upstairs to a room with a huge bed. The ceiling was something I had never seen. It had a mirror that reflected back the images in the room.

A man came to greet us. He was not young or old. I couldn’t estimate his age. He was tall, white, had grey eyes and slim. When he reached us he smiled. I remember at that time I thought he had a kind smile. He kissed Natalie on the cheek and then looked me over. He put his hand on my face, cupping it and looked into my eyes. He said, “My name is Anthony. We will have a great time together so relax. We are going to have some fun together.” I must have looked so scared, because he chuckled. Then as if satisfied he let go of me.

He whispered something to Natalie and she left. I was left alone in the room with this stranger. He went to a sideboard where there was food. He offered me some but I refused. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. It smelled funny and I knew it was bhangi. In the slum many young men smoked this kind of cigarette.

Natalie came back into the room. She carried a tray with drinks on them. She poured some into a glass, came to me and said, “Drink this. It will help you.”

I took a sip. It was bitter. Natalie forced me to drink it all up. She then took me to the bed, untucked the covers and made me sit on the sheets which were white. She said, “I know this will be hard but you have to go through with it. Anthony is a good man. He will not hurt you like some of the others would have. If he tells you to do something do it. Mama Salma will not be happy if you don’t make him happy.”

Natalie left. Anthony came to the bed. I don’t want to talk about those next few hours. All I can say is that I have never felt so much pain in my life. Anthony hurt me. He stole away my innocence and broke something in me. I think he broke my spirit. He used me over and over. I cried and screamed, I fought but to no avail. Anthony was stronger then me. He did what he wanted with me.

I stayed at Anthony’s house for two days. On the second day the doctor from mama Salma’s came to examine me. He cleaned me up inside and gave me another injection. Apparently this was to make me sleep.

When I awoke I was at Mama Salma’s house again.

To be continued.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Eat life with a big spoon.

Let's eat Life with a big spoon,
Enjoy the flavour of it.
Let’s savour the texture of Life,
The meat of it, lets bite in
And chew it tasting its juices,
The juices that makes Life so sweet.


Let's taste Life like chocolate,
Let it melt in our mouths.
Let's drink Life like Milo,
Let it make champions of us.
Let us drink up Life like milk,
Let it build us up to have strong foundations.
Let’s sip Life like soup,
Inhale the aromas and let it warm us from inside.
Let's savour Life like ice cream,
Taste its flavours and textures,
Let it go down smoothly.

Life has spice, sample some.
Life can be chilly,
So turn it into a sweet and sour curry.
Love Life; take it with a pinch of salt.
Make it sweet with some sugar.
Life's a dish,
You’ll never know how good it is until you taste it,
So get out your big spoon and dig in.

Raylitpoems 2010

Scared to love

I'm scared of falling in love again,
Because love has scorched me.
My love burned brighter then the sun.
I put myself out there,
Bared my heart, mind and body to you.
I put on hold my dreams to nurture yours.
I gave all I had until I was running on empty.
Now it’s going to be the first Christmas without you
I can’t help and think about the last few years.
Of the joys and pains, of the laughter and tears.
There's no love like real first love.
It breaks me that we had to part.
That’s life I guess.
The ones we love are the ones, who break us,
Leave us with scars.
Hearts break, torn apart and too sensitive to the touch.
Scared of giving away the pieces of my heart,
To someone else because I don’t know,
If they will be put back together only to be shattered again.
My broken heart is crippled,
With invisible scars.
I don’t know if I will ever walk again.

Monday, December 13, 2010

How does broken love taste like?

How do broken hearts taste? If love is sweet, sweeter then chocolate and smells like roses in bloom, then what does broken love taste like? If love makes you want to sing, makes you want to dance together forever, makes you want to doodle the other person's name on paper, what does a broken heart do? Do broken hearts only taste bitter lemon and not the sugar in lemonade, do they smell flowers as manure and not perfume, do they put up their dancing shoes never to dance again. How do they get the sweetness back when their heart has turned as black as turkish coffee and twice as bitter. Tell me how broken love tastes like, when the heart is cold as ice.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Chains

These chains they go click, click, click,
In my mind.
I am bound to you unexplainably,
Somewhere along the way I gave you access
To the open mental cage that holds my mind.
Somehow when I wasn’t aware,
(Or was I so memorized by your beautiful smile I didn’t notice)
You shut that mental door and went away with the keys.
I try so desperately to get you out,
Tried to drown you out with alcohol,
Tried to suffocate you in food,
Tried to bind you out with prayer,
Tried to wash you away with tears.
But still these chains you got on me,
On my heart, on my mind, on my body
They remain unbreakable.
Is it unthinkable that one day,
I may break these chains,
Because a life like this is unbearable?
The chains go click, click, click in my head.

Friday, December 3, 2010

The "buy a brick, build a house" campaign for IDP's

It's three o’clock in the morning and its raining heavily. It should be a time of dreaming and rest. A time to get refreshed and make people ready for the next day. Sadly in the Internally Displaced Peoples (IDP’s) camps this is not the case. The IDP’s are housed in tattered, torn tents which leak every time it rains. The people inside are not even asleep. They are standing as the tents flood. All over the country in IDP camps this is the situation.

After the post election violence in 2007 many people fled their homes in fear of their lives. The government and NGO’S established temporary camps in which these IDP’s were to stay. This was supposed to be a temporary situation but three years later many IDP’s are still in camps.

The tents that the IDP’s live in were supposed to be used for a maximum of 6 months but the tents have been used for close to 3 years so they are torn and tattered. Sadly because the government is trying to encourage the IDP’s to leave the camps, and go resettle back in their original homes or in other areas it is not giving replacement tents.

The internally displaced people (IDP’s) in Kenya face challenges in living in the IDP camps. There is not enough food, security, health facilities or housing. The IDP’s have beeen waiting for the government to provide them with money to relocate from the camps. Some of the IDP’s have been given some money to relocate but the money is not enough to build a house when they move to the land.

Most families were given between Ksh 10,000 and Ksh 35,000 as a resettlement allowance by the government. This is not a lot of money in which to rebuild shattered lives. Some IDP’s who go by the philosophy of if life gives you lemons make lemonade decided to make the best of a bad situation. They came together to pull their money together and they bought land in Maai Mahiu. Because of the money involved in putting up permanent structures on the land they have been forced to continue living in the IDP camps while they look for money to build houses.

Habitat for humanity has been building houses for IDP’s in Mai Mahiu. The rotaract clubs of Kenya got interested in the project and decided to form a partnership with Habitat for Humanity Kenya to help in the effort to provide the IDP's with shelter.. Each house costs approximately 200, 000 to build.

In late July 2010, Habitat for Humanity Kenya partnered with Rotaract Clubs of Kenya to help build houses for the remaining 160 internally displaced families in Maai Mahiu IDP camp. The partnership seeks to build awareness among Kenyans about the plight of Maai Mahiu IDP’s who have been living in tattered tents for the last two years and who are in dire need of decent shelter.

As a sign of Rotaract commitment towards supporting the IDP’s of Maai Mahiu, the clubs lead by the president of Rotaract Nairobi Central Mr. Michael Waiyaki from Rotaract Nairobi Central, pledged to mobilize funds from their members and well wishers, while at the same time raise awareness about the housing project.

Rotaract has started a project called “buy a brick, build a house” to raise funds for the project. By end of October 2010, the Rotaract clubs of Kenya have raised Ksh. 50, 000 in 4 months. The Rotaract clubs are raising awareness on the campaign and hope to interest the club members to volunteer for this project. The Rotaract clubs are not just raising money. They have been going to Maai Mahiu to help build the fountains for the houses that they are sponsoring.

The Rotaract clubs have taken up this project because they are a service based organization that empowers the youth to build and serve communities. Rotaract Kenya believes that the youth should help rebuild the nation as the youth are the hope of the future and they need to help rebuild the nation. Also because the youth were used to cause chaos in the 2007 elections.

Rotaract is a service club, its business is mankind, and its product is service. Rotaractors provide community service to both local and international communities. This is perhaps the best reason for becoming a Rotaractor: the chance to do something for somebody else and to sense the self-fulfilment that comes in the process and return of that satisfaction to one’s own life. It is richly rewarding.

Rotaract is a nonprofit, nonpolitical, international volunteer service organization of students and young professionals. There are more than 7,000 Rotaract clubs worldwide with some 300,000 members.

Goals of rotaract

To develop professional and leadership skills.
To emphasize respect for the rights of others, based on recognition of the worth of each individual.
To recognize the dignity and value of all useful occupations as opportunites to serve.
To recognize, practice and promote ethical standards as leadership qualities and vocational responsibilities.
To develop knowledge and understanding of the needs, problems and opportunities in the community and worldwide.
To develop opportunities for personal and group activities to serve the community and promote international understanding and goodwill towards all people.

Donations to the IDP “buy a brick, build a house” can be made to M-PESA Business No. 506600, ZAP Business No. 0731 107717 or Account No. 0736125919 Barclays Westland’s Branch. For more details on how you can help go to rcnc.rotaract.org or call 0734669857.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Rainbows

There's been so many rainy days,
When the tears balanced in my eyes.
I wanted to cry a flood,
But I'm strong I dont cry.

So I'd go and buy food,
Drown out the misery and pain.
I would sweeten my life with sugar,
Try to take away the bitter aftertaste.
But I was ok because I didnt cry.
Am too strong for that.

So I hardened my heart with fats and sugars,
Gained pounds because I would not lay down the burdens,
I broke inside because I didnt want to break outside.
But the flood in the dam cant be controlled,
You can build a dam but one day drop by drop,
The dam breaks.

The flood it came and the tears I cried.
But you know what I discovered,
After the rain comes the rainbows.
Now I'm ok, but when time comes I will cry,
Because though the flood it breaks me,
The rainbow is a promise,
That things will be made right,
Things can start anew.
I tolerate the floods,
Because I celebrate my rainbows.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Sweetawa Cinderella

She is like the famed magical fairy godmother who rides in to rescue Cinderella. In this modern tale disadvantaged girls are the poor Cinderellas. Sitawa is like a fairy godmother coming in to grant many girls their wish to stay in school.

For many disadvantaged girls staying in school throughout the term is an issue. Because of menstrual periods many girls may end up missing school from between three to seven days because they can’t afford comfortable sanitary towels. These girls usually use old bed sheets, towels, old clothes or even re-use sanitary towels. These usually expose the girls to infections as a result of poor hygiene. This has led to many girls not being able to cope with their studies due to cumulative effects of their absence from class. This causes the girls to have low morale and poor grades.

So in comes the fairy godmother. Sitawa “Sweetawa” Wafula is a well known poet, performer, maths tutor, life coach, and motivational speaker among other hats that she dons. She is currently volunteering with a project called the Sanibank Consortium which consists of NGOs, artists, students and individuals with a common goal of enhancing the education of girls from disadvantaged background.

Sanibank does resource mobilization through awareness creation so as to persuade the general public and companies to buy sanitary towels for the girls. Sitawa says, “Sanibank don’t have a stable donor but have gotten Hearts, Lions and Rotary who are making a 5 duo pack of pads available which can last a girl for one school year. The idea is to have people buy the pads for the girls and then these are distributed to the girls who need them.”

Sitawa says that Sanibank have been able to supply to at least different schools in 5 provinces. This has helped girls to concentrate on performing at their level best in school. Sanibank are still looking forward to reach more girls to help them harness their dream.

Wangari Maathai has her trees and environment as her cause. Sitawa has girl empowerment as her passion and cause. She too has had a Cinderella story, rising from situations that would have crushed the spirit of a less determined person.

While studying Actuarial Science, 2nd year at the University of Nairobi, Sitawa started to experience severe seizures that would cause her to miss class for weeks. Spells in and out of hospital became a regular feature in her life. Because of rising hospital bills that wiped out the family savings for school fees, Sitawa had to drop out of university to concentrate on recuperation.

“This was hard on me and I eventually slipped into a depression. Watching and listening to colleagues making plans for their graduation pushed me deeper into the psychological abyss,” she recalls. It was during that time that Sitawa discovered the therapeutic benefits of creative writing, using poetry to deal with her inner pain.

Even before the seizures started affecting Sitawa she had a very traumatic, painful experience. “Before Sun 15th June 2003, I was a very lively jovial girl then I had to visit my boyfriend. His best friend spiked my tea and raped me. I wrote about that experience in a poem called ' Sunday 15th' after the events that took place on Sunday 15th June 2003. The piece was for therapy and it has helped me for the last 6 years. Now I talk about it, praying it does the same for someone.” The piece can be found on her blog at http://sitawa.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunday-15th.html.

After a while things started looking up. Sitawa got jobs but couldn’t keep a job for long because of her seizures. Sitawa says “I was still having seizures which would sometimes put me into hospital for up to two weeks so I couldn’t hold down a job for long. On one occasion, I blacked out as I was serving a client,” she explains. She laments the discrimination of employers against staff with chronic conditions.

Sitawa has started an events company called Events Sitawave where she is able to control her own schedule and be able to do things at her own pace. She has organized several events like Poetry at Discovery which is a monthly event that brings together aspiring and accomplished poets to share their work. She also organized SWAN Day Kenya 2009 which is an event that brings women artists from all genres together. She co-organized the first World Peace Day Poetry Festival 2009 that bought together poets and poetry lovers to celebrate peace. She also organized logistics for a Christmas visit to the Industrial Area Remand Prison in 2009 for renowned photojournalist, Boniface Mwangi.

Sitawa also carries out poetry workshops for aspiring poets with most of them being round table where she has a group of three to five people and she takes them through the basics of poetry and performance. She has been honored by Slam Africa for her work and she says, “I am pleased to have been honored by the Slam Africa crew for my work. That’s all a teacher wants, to know they set aside some time to nurture someone and get to see the results.”

Currently, Sitawa is also a Mental Health Goodwill Ambassador for Basic Needs UK. Sitawa says she was appointed to that position because she had been suffering from seizures for the last 8 years and was willing to talk about it. She creates awareness about issues to do with seizures, also doing a lot of writing about it on her blog.

Sitawa says that the things that inspire her are where she has been and the things that she has been through. Also the people who have walked in and out of her life coupled with where she is going and where she really wants to go.

Sitawa has been recognized and mentioned as one of the key poetry people at Slam Africa where she was called in as a special guest to award the winner in September. She is on the on the nomination list of Feather Awards Kenya 2010 which the first edition to happen in Kenya.

Sitawa says that lately she has been working at a mall awareness stand for Sanibank and also doing poetry night performances in aid of the project. “At one event I was able to raise Ksh. 11,000 with which I have made an order and I am awaiting shipment of the pads.” The pads are shipped from outside the country. Every pack of 5 duo packs costs Ksh. 200 to ship to Kenya and that is an affordable donation that any one individual can make. Donations can be made to MPESA line 0724377900 or deposited in the Co-operative Bank, Nation Business Centre, account number 01134126195700.

Sitawa has no major plans to do any projects with any artists at the moment. “I had a major seizure attack mid this year and it took a whole lot of time to get back on my feet. My main concerns now are my poetry workshops, pad-raising and mental health campaigns plus my events company. I was to do something in Botswana and Tanzania but I got really sick mid this year so all that went to the dogs, especially when the organizers could not trace me when I was really really down.”

Sitawa’s thoughts on the future of poetry and spoken word, “like music, it is a wave to some and a way of life to others. Those who have it as a wave are cashing in now but with time something else will blow them away and the real poets will stand up. There enough gigs going on now but someone has to teach the performers so I am taking the back seat and doing that as I prepare for Season two of Poetry at Discovery.” That is one of her passions, teaching people how to write and perform poetry.

As a woman of many talents, Sitawa also tutors students in maths. She tries to encourage girls to love maths. “Basically I let them see the importance of maths in life, give them the pros and cons then I let them make conscious discussions after weighing the pros and cons. I don’t do it just for Maths but for most of the things in life. I teach them to make conscious decisions and let them know the importance of being responsible of one’s decisions irregardless if they are what the majority subscribe to or not.”

Sitawa is an excellent performance artist. When she takes to the mike at a poetry event she sweeps you away with her rhythmic, savvy, lyrical lines. She has a presence on stage. Someone listening to her for the first time will be shocked when they hear her mentioning in passing about her experience of being raped and her battle with depression. Living in a society where most people don’t talk about rape in the open and where it is a taboo subject Sitawa is trying to get people to open up about the subject. Sitawa tries to encourage girls who have gone through the ordeal that they are still beautiful, worthy of love and that they have somewhere to go if they need support or someone to talk to.

“I have a project called Project Sun 15th where I meet up with victims and survivors. We have intimate discussions about our ordeals and learn from each other as we help each other heal. Some people prefer one on one sessions and I walk with them until they don’t need me anymore. I talk to them about insecurities, self worth, and redemption, I talk about investing in tomorrow because they need not cry the tears they have cried today and yesterday, tomorrow,” says Sitawa.

Sitawa’s advise to girls about protecting themselves from rape or sexual predators? “Prevention is better than cure they say, but one can never be too careful. So I encourage the girls to be themselves but conscious of their surrounding, that their dressing could be what provokes a predator, their attitude and so many other “minor” things. So one must be conscious at all times. I was raped on a humble Sunday morning over a cup of tea while others get raped by their fathers so there is so much ‘carefulness’ one can have. So besides taking care of the dos and don’t, I also take care of what to do and not to do after an ordeal. I encourage the girls to have a contact person’s information on them, that they should always let someone know where they are at all times. Beyond that God will take care.”

Sitawa’s take on God’s role in her life? “I didn’t know quarter the things I know now about rape or seizures or any other of the many things that have happened to me. Beside my pen and paper, God has been a faithful companion and as much as I am not a role model Christian, I know that without Him I would be half the person I am today. I am still a work in progress but I am tangible and definite and it is all because of Him. They is serenity I feel in His presence that makes me know all will be well. That I am alright.”

Sitawa lives by the words of Nelson Mandela who once said, “the greatest glory in living lies not in never falling but in rising every time we fall.”

Sitawa may have taken a tumble in her dream to be an actuarial scientist but she has risen, dusted herself off, and continued on. She is still hoping to get a scholarship to finish her studies and she is not planning on giving up on her dream.

Sitawa continues to inspire many, women and men alike to never give up. She has shown a good example through the virtues of love, kindness, and unselfishness. She continues to bring hope to many girls through the Sanibank project and through her life coaching for rape victims. She continues to be a fairy godmother to many girls who would have otherwise thought that no one cares. She is an advocate of her own words that she quotes in so many different ways. “Circumstances and people can only put you down if you allow them to.”

Sitawa truly lives the words of Marianne Williamson who she quotes as says “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?”

Sitawa’s parting shot is, “today is a building block for tomorrow. The joys and sorrows of this hour and the place we are in are our breakers or makers. So do your best with whatever you have, wherever you are, for no one knows what tomorrow brings.”

PS. I did this for a feature article for class. I realise though that Sitawa's story is an important one. Of women making a difference in this country. As a magazine has described her she is a Phenomenon woman.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Mista Life

Mistar Life has tried to break me, to make me give up and accept what he offers me. Wanted me to say yes Messer whatever you say boss. I have lived the slave mentality, known my place and bowed down to the fact that in the food chain of life I was insignificant.



A mind revolution has come. I ain't no slave. I ain’t broken if I don’t let life break me. I can fight back and win. I am giving up the excuses and taking up the struggle. Life you try to talk badly to me tell me "gal I run this town and you ain’t nothing if I don’t say you’re somebody. So bow down to me and keep doing what I tell you. Maybe one day if am feeling generous I may make you into someone."



One day I get fed up. I'm breaking my bones but I aint going nowhere. So i decide enough is enough. The day of reckoning has come. I got attitude. I ain’t talking this lies and this downtrodden life no more.



I walk up to Mista life, and shaking my shoulders and waving my hand I say "Mista you got nothing on me. I ain’t got to take your degrading life or talk no more. I ain’t a slave. I been letting you tell me what to do. I have been thinking all this time that you control me, that I can only take what ya' give me.”



“ Well guess what Mista. I am gonna take a drive. No more listening to you. I’m taking destiny into my hands. I will not bow down to you no more. I know what's best for me. So you, you can watch me live and love my life. No more begging for crumbs for you. And well if you don’t like it you can kiss the sun and burn to a crisp. Or go tell it to the moon? He can tell you all about making cheese from spilled milk."



So I take my bag and hit the door. Then I put on my shades. "Because my future's so bright I got to wear shades! My future's so bright I got to wear shades!”

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Addiction=YOU

Addiction.

Your mine.

Tried to stop.

Tried rehab by getting away from you.


I just seem to want to get hooked on you again.

I shouldnt do this but your pull is like that of the moon on the tides.

You are like nectar and I am the bee.

I am addicted to you.

You give me such a rush

Yet you also make me get so down and depressed.

I oscilate between joy and pain because you bring me up,

Then send me crashing down.


What can I do to stop this addiction,

Because i cant go on like this my love?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Amazing Grace

It's this feeling inside me,

I want to burst into song.

It's because of your love, it lifted me.

I was down, suffering a broken heart.

You gave me back my smile.

Even though some days my heart is black as night I still see your light



So lets dance because you are good.

Let's raise a glass to celebrate that your in my life.

Let's clap because you bring me joy.

There's a feeling in my heart that makes me want to shout out loud,

Scream and shout.



Am in love, in love with you.

I never wanna let go of this feeling

Because it brings me up when am down.

So lets dance a jig, break the bones doing the twist.

Lets hum a melody.

Lets beat the drums and strum the guitar.

Lets shake our heads as we listen to the music

And tap our feet do a few footworks.



Your love is grace,

Your love was shame for me,

Letting yourself be hung on a tree for me.

I dance and sing for your love has set me free.

I sing for grace, amazing grace that brought me to my knees.

A grace that fills my heart and makes me want to burst out in song.


raylitpoems 2010

Friday, October 22, 2010

Our first time

I,
See youu across the room,
And those sexy full lips
As they bite
A piece of mango.
The way you do it so sensual.
The look of enjoyment,
It causes a reaction inside me.
Wouldn't I like to be,
Tasted like that?
Enjoyed!!
The taste of me,
Exploding in your mouth.
To see that smile,
Satisfaction,
Quenching of thirst,
Make you feel,
Refreshed.

You’re looking my way,
Oops!!!
Caught staring.
Embarrassed,
Blushing.
You flash that knowing smile
Like you can read my mind
And you know what I want.
Your eyes twinkle in a mysterious way
And you wink.
Need to move,
Coz I don’t know what to say or do.

Outside,
Cold air cools me down
Needed it,
Temperature gone too high.
What was I thinking in there?
Daydreaming, fantasizing?
You and me,
Get a grip my mind says.
Suddenly, I feel arms around me
Encircling me,
Am about to protest.
Then I smell that cologne,
One that always drives me crazy,
The smell of you plus perfumed scent
You whisper,
“Relax.”
Nibble on my ear,
Hot, heat runs down,
It feels so good.
Turned,
You lean down,
I watch fascinated,
As your full lips come down towards mine.
I must be dreaming,
Close eyes to check,
Then I feel your lips of mine.
Gentle,
Butterfly,
You tease,
Brush against my lips,
Your tongue,
Asking permission,
Begging entrance.
Open up,
Feel full sensation,
As lips to lips touch
Your tongue darting in,
To find mine.
Dance,
An erotic dance,
Then deeper and deeper it goes,
Oh the pleasure!
I feel like am in heaven,
Lightheaded,
Is it ecstasy?
Because I don’t want to let go
This feeling.
This kiss,
This magical pleasure,
Of our first time,
Our first kiss!


raylitpoems 2010.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Africa

I wrote this when I was in UK. I hated writing in Swahili, still do but I missed home so much i translated it. I have murdered Kiswahili so please forgive me am a barbie like that.

My love, I mourn for you

I said goodbye to everyone.
I did not look at you
I smiled,
A fake smile
That said that I would be ok.
I walked away from you, my love.
Oh, What a foolish thing to do!
I needed distance,
I had told myself.
Time to get to know other people, new things.
It seemed that what used to make me happy
About you no longer held any appeal
I needed to get away
To experience things anew somewhere else.

Then why is it that I think of you all the time.
I remember your warmth like a radiating sunset
The taste of you on my tongue
The smell of you,
A hearty cologne of spice, sunshine and tropical fruit
Your rhythm that was the beat of the African drum
Our special language that we shared
I long now
to speak it back to you

I wanted to be free of you
Only looking back at you once or twice as I left
To memorize your features and replay them later in my mind
Now I need to see you
My body and heart long for you
My passion for you is unquenchable
Your like a drug that runs through my brain
I need more to get through the day.

I run away to discover myself
But realised I am nothing without you
You make me whole
I dance to the beat of your drum
I want to be with you my love
Will you please take me back

I am anxious to see you again
Forgive me for leaving
Please let me come back
Oh when can I return
My heart of hearts
Africa, my love.

NINALIA

Nilisema kwaheri kwa wote
Sikukuangalia
Nilicheka
Kicheko kisio cha ukweli
Iliosema nitakuwa sawa sawa
Basi nikatembea tutoka kwako mpenzi
Lo! Kitu cha upumbavu nilichofanya!
Nilitaka nafasi
Nilijiambia
Masaa za kujua watu wengine, vitu zingine
Kwajili vitu vilivyo nifanya
Niwe na furaha juu yako havikia vikinifurahishi tena
Nilihitaji kuenda mbali na wewe
Kufanya vitu zingine mpya.

Mbona je basi
nakuwaza masaa zote
Nakumbuka joto yako ilofanya damu yangu iwe na moto
Utamu wako kwa ulimi yangu
Harufa yako.
Kama marashi -Ulionuka karufuu, jua na matunda
Pigo la moyo ulio kama pigo ya ngoma ya Africa
Lugha yetu tulioengea pamoja
Nawaza, nataka kuongea na we sasa

Nilitaka uhuru kutoka kwako
Nilikuangalia mara moja ama mbili nilipokua nikienda
Ndio nijifahamishe na wewe ngio nikumbuke baadaya kichwani
Sasa nataka kukuona
Mwili na mwoyo yangu yanakutaka
Upendo yangu kwako haishi
Wewe ni kama madawa ya kulevia
Kichwani
Nahitajii ingine ndio nieshi

Nilikimbia kotoka kwako ndio nigipate
Lakini nimeelewa kuwa mimi si kitu bila wewe
Unanifanya niwe nzima
Nacheza kwa mupigo ya ngoma yako
Nataka kuwa na we, mpenzi
Nichukue tena kwako
Ninataka sana kukuona tena
Nisemehe kwajili nilikuacha
Tafhathali niache nirudi
Lo! Naweza kurudi kwako lini
Mwoyo wa mwoyo wangu
Afrika, mpenzi.

Raylitpoems 2003

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

mood swing

It began like the sun at dawn
Filling the dull black skies with specks of lights
So was my mood as I awoke
Filled with anticipation for the coming day
Knowing the world was my oyster
And that I would shine all through the day
I felt so alive so me
Then during the course of the day
I noticed clouds gathering together
In my brain, cutting out the rays of sunlight
However, I paid them no mind
Gradually the sky grew grey
And my mood pensive
The clouds had gathered together, all bunched up
And were looking dark and threatening
By this time, I was alarmed
And started looking for shelter from the coming storm
Suddenly the skies of my eyes
Gave way and teardrops of rain fell
Soon faster, faster, and harder they ran
Drenching the surroundings of my person
No shelter in sight could I see
Looking far and wide in myself
Wondering whether the outburst would last
And how long it would last
Then when I was just about to despair
I saw in my mind’s eye
A beautiful technicoloured rainbow
And I knew then that things would get better
A few moments, it seemed like forever!
The teardrop stopped
And the sky of my eyes
Were clear and bright once more
And then I saw the sun appear
My heart had brightened
A dimple appeared on the horizon of my skin
And suddenly bright rays of light appeared
As I smiled and laughed
I was drenched but refreshed
The storm was over.

Breaking heart

You tie me up in knots even though we are no longer together.

You got a hook inside my heart that drawns me to you

And that cuts me when I try to pull away.



This love should be over,

But just because I wish it,

It doesnt make it so!

I broke your heart so I should be free

But I broke mine too maybe thats why am haunted.

My heart screams loudly for you,

Even though I try to drown it in loud protests that i dont need you

I can still hear my heart scream.



You were my first real love,

Leave alone the jokers who came before you,

They were pretenders to the throne but you,

You were the real King and you made me your Queen.

But still paradise had a serpent.

Distance, the serpent

drew us slowly apart and banished us from our Eden of love.

Banished our love became but I still think of Eden and our wonderful love.



Well we cant go back yet we cant move forward.

So at at impasse I miss you!

Wishing that this love hadnt, isnt and wont continue to break my heart!


Raylitpoems 2010

Friday, October 15, 2010

Celebrate

I wrote this for my Cucu - Peris Njuguna who was buried on tuesday 12/10/10. She was a blessing to me and I will always remember her with love and fond memories.I read this at her funeral and wept. It was what I figured her words would be to us who were left to mourn her. I think she would have told us to celebrate her life.

I know you want to weep that I am gone but I want you to celebrate. Celebrate my life, I am not gone, I live inside you, in the memories of the times we spent together. Take a snapshot of the times we shared and keep it close to you.

When you feel a tear start to drop remember:

The days when we used to play in the shamba with no shoes as we helped our mother.

Remember the days when we used to go to the river to get water.

Remember how I used to love pineapple and we had to walk from Kiamoria to Kiganjo just to get some pineapple.

Remember with joy my wedding where it rained as God blessed our wedding. Thank God for a loving husband who even as he took me from my wonderful Gachango family took me to another family the Njuguna’s who loved me and opened their hearts to me.

Remember the joy I had when I had my children and what a blessing they were to me.

Celebrate the fact that I received Jesus into my heart and he turned my life around. He has given me so much joy and so much to celebrate.

Celebrate the fact that I got another daughter to call me mum. Celebrate the fact that I was a grandmother to a beautiful child Emmanuel.

Celebrate the fact that life is a treasure given to every one of us. Only God knows how long he will bless us with that treasure. But we shall be accountable to him for it. And I know that when I stand before his throne, he shall say “well done good and faithful servant.”

Celebrate that we laughed and cried together. Celebrate that we had all those meals together and the songs we sang. And how I loved to sing.

I celebrate that I was loved and cherished. I know I was treasured and I will be missed. But this is not goodbye. This is I will see you later.

Psalms 23

For I knew that the Lord my shepherd, I did not want. He make me lie down in green pastures: he led me beside the still waters. He restored my soul, and he led me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Through I walked through the valley of the shadow of death; I feared no evil, for he was with me. His rod and staff, they comforted me.

Lord you prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies: and you anointed my head with oil, my cup runneth over. And I know that goodness and mercy followed me all the days of my life until when I went to dwell in the house of the lord forever.

So let’s celebrate my life and give praise to God for a life well lived.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

regrets

I wish:

I had come to see you in hospital and we had sat and talked. But I was too busy with my life with school and work I said tomorrow I will. Now your no more and I have time to attend your funeral but I don't have you. Those are my regrets.

I had told you how much I loved you and what I needed from you. But I didnt want to rock the boat of our relationship so I kept quiet every time you broke my heart. Then one day the gathered storm in my heart broke loose and I told you its over. Yet my heart still breaks over you and I still love you. Those are my regrets.

I had studied hard in high school not buried my head in mills and boons. I should paid more attention to maths and not decide that I cant do this. Dubing other clever students homework but failing CAT's and exams. Doing well in tuition because it was during holidays and I had to pass otherwise no tv.These are my regrets.

I have many wishes and many regrets. Many shoulda woulda coulda. Things I could have done and said. I wish I could turn things around but I cant because time is a cruel mistress. I wish but wishes as they say "if wishes were horses beggars would ride them".


So though I wish I had done things differently what's done is done. So now am left with my regrets, a bitter pill to swallow.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Breasts make the world go round (Betty and Veronica)

This piece is to raise awareness for breast cancer awareness month. Betty and Veronica refers to breasts. People have different names for them, the twins, jewels etc.


Hurray. Lets hear it for the girls Betty and Veronica. They make the boys go dumb and put a smile on a baby's face.


Breasts fascinate, captivate and they are sexy. Some people would die to have them and some people pay to give them an extra extra boost. The gals have supernatural power because they seem to occupy many a man's fantasies and thoughts. Yet they cause many a girl's grief and stress when they are too small or too large.


Big, small, round, sharp and pointed, bouncy or struggling to bud breasts cause debate and drama.betty and veronica are a source of power and food yet they are so vulnerable to disease.


Gals your breasts are an asset so take care of them. Get checked out to ensure they dont become a bad debt that must be removed. Guys we know you love Betty and Veronica so please encourage your lady to get checked. You could even help her,be her doctor for the night if she wont take flight or mind.


A breast check a month keeps the doctor away. So gals strut Betty and Veronica but always know their status it may save your life.

Just friends

Just friends.

Are we lying, that we can just be friends?

Because there's this chemistry between you and me that could light up a room.

Your laugh is intoxicating to me.

Your smile well its like a drumstick on my heart.

It makes it beat so fast.

The way you look at me,

the love you feel shines through your eyes.

We have all the best intentions, noble but furtile.

Its like trying to swim against the tide at high noon.

Was it a mistake to say goodbye

or would it be a bigger one to say I still love you?

Just friends cannot encompass what we were and are.

So who's fooling who when we say we can be just friends?


raylitpoems 2010

Thursday, August 19, 2010

stalker revisited.

I had a stalker once and he wrote me this message on fb even as he sent me friend requests. Now that I have a new stalker I thought I should share it again.

This is a reality, i may lack words, but i cannot come up with an explanations full of excuses not to express my special intuition to you. After a thorough soul searching, ur magic smile is inviting and i now submit my application for a space in your heart, failure to cast my net wider, to net your mutual consent or feelings would amount to doing injustice to myself. after realizing your entrenched interest. am a huge proponent of freedom of expression and that is why this should not be a surprise to you. However, my approach to the subject might not be in line with the principle that is valid, but all the same, sometimes in life, i as applicant cannot control consumers consent either way building mutual understanding with a priority given to a settled life, would be a memorable chapter that i pay for. Am former military officer and a doctor by profession practising and doubling as a businessman. Thank you for your understanding. You are fabulous. Where are you now if i may ask? Have set you free to call any time as you wish. looking forward to hearing from you. More details to follow. Much love from me sweet gal.

Yap it was funny.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

You play?

You think you’re smooth,
And want to make a play for my heart.
Boy, you think your good but can you play?

I'm not looking for a boy who wants to play snakes and ladders with my heart.
That’s a game of chance,
You may win or lose no one knows.

This ain't a game of cha mama and cha baba.
We try to play house and if it succeeds well and good
But if not its goodbye.

Boy, you got to have a strategy on how to get me and keep me!
It's a game of chess where objective is to capture my heart
And always keep me on checkmate.

The rules?
The rules are God's rule.
You got to know your word because those are the only rules that apply.

So my question is,
Can you play?


Raylitpoems 2010.

Monday, August 16, 2010

lord of the rings.

From the beginning,

You were my precious.

I desired you like I'd desired no other.

I fought tooth and nail to keep you,

Wanting you all to myself.


My precious, I called you

And I enjoyed myself knowing you were mine.

After a time I started changing,

Changing my character to suit yours.

And all my dreams they vanished.

All I could think about was you and me,

You were my shining jewel, my blindspot.


Years later,

I had turned into someone I would never have recognised.

Losing you hurts like a burning arrow in the chest.

I can't believe I let you go but I had to.

Else I would have tumbled into the fires of Mordor with you.


The release has come at a cost!

An aching heart,

Lost years that I cant claim back, just like Frodo Baggins can't get back his finger.

Goodbye my precious.

I mourn you but I must move on with my life.

My precious.


Raylitpoems 2010

Monday, August 9, 2010

Gone

My tears,they pool in my eyes at the mention of your death. They balance on my cheeks as they stream down. Then there's a flood of lovedrops, teardrops that gush down my face.

I can't believe I will never see your beautiful smile again. Never joke with you. It makes me sad that your life was cut short in the prime of your life. I feel the pain that you will never see another sunrise or sunset. See the beautiful blue sky.

Its funny how we think we will live forever yet we die a little each moment that we live. There are so many that have gone before you and each broke my heart. Now my heart aches for the ones that death stole from us.

I pray that God will receive you with open arms. I pray tonight there will be a new angel watching over me in the heavens. You are gone but you will never be forgotten.

In memory of Agnes Gakii. You were a friend and colleague. I never will forget that beautiful smile.

Crystal heart

My heart has turned to ice,
Yet it throbs!
It's fragile like glass crystal,
and it just shattered.
The words I wrote in blood across my heart,
That "I will always love you,"
Dissolve in the wash of tears and shattered dreams.
My heart is still,
Trying to learn to beat on its own again,
Because for so long it beat for you.
I wonder will I survive this operation,
Of carving you out of my heart,
Will I survive a broken heart?

Friday, July 30, 2010

Slave to love

I've been a slave,
A slave to love.
I've been blind,
Blinded to reality!

I have given up my dreams,
Settled because I didn't want to lose you.
When I look back I see,
Its me whose done most of the compromise
Because I didn't want to rock the love boat.
I would have done anything for you
And I did.

Now my eyes are open.
I don't wanna be a slave no more to love and passion.
I dont want to give up my dreams,
Not for you, not for anybody!

Its a new dawn.
Am breaking my shackles.
I'm breaking free of obligation and going with choice.

Don't know if your coming with me,
The ball's in your court.
But I ain't bowing to your wishes no more,
Am massa to myself from here on out!
Because what's love got to do with it?


Raylitpoems 2010.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Love me through the seasons.

You confuse me,
sometimes You make me so happy am delirious,
Other times you make me so annnoyed i turn cold.
I get all hot then all cold.
You don't understand sometimes maybe because your a guy.
Its hard to say sometimes whats on my mind,
Because you may think me lunatic.
Its just i can experience four seasons
in my mind and body all in one day
Due to a weather phenomenon called you.
I can be hot as summer,all sweet and nice,
then i get chilly because of something you said.
Then you annoy me and I become all winter cold
And then i remember something nice about you
And i thaw into spring.
i know you don't get me,
All i need to know is that,
You will love me through the seasons.
The seasons of me and you.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Heartbeat

Make my heart beat like a drum.
Make my feet dance like to a song.
Make my hands clap in jubilation.
Make my eyes glow like hot ambers.
Make my heart smile like a clown.
Make my ears pick words like a receiver
Make my voice speak out loud like a microphone.
Make my brain store, catalogue, download and upload your character and goodness like a computer.
I want to search and find you,
See in how many ways you love me.
I want to be an instrument of your grace.
I want my life to be a facebook page of your love
And I want to twitter the news that for real you are awesome
Your love is real.
Make me, mould me and use me.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Fragile (the poem)

Big plastic smile on my face.
Inside am crying for my innocence.
Used to be happy but now happiness is just a word I hear.
I have everything material but nothing emotional.
Am dead inside.
I was a fragile flower.
But then I was cut and crushed by cruel hands.
I am broken inside yet outside I function.
I don’t believe in God because a loving God wouldn’t let this happen to me.
I hate men.
They are all pretenders.
They pretend that they are nice, loving and caring.
They are not, they are beasts that crush innocence,
and wear blood like it’s a trophy for sport.
One crushed my delicate flower.
Others waited in the wings to stomp out the good in me.
I hate, I hate with a passion what I have become but I am a prisoner.
I can’t escape my capturers they have conquered my mind.
Told me am nothing that they have made me sum thing of value.
Put a price tag on my flesh.
Invisible chains hold me to this place.
I am fragile, broken, and old in knowledge yet still a child.
Am a woman in experience but a child in mind.
Am fragile yet I haven’t broken.
Scattered yet held together by will
And a plastic smile.

Raylitpoems 2010

Monday, July 5, 2010

Fragile (Part 1)

My house is at the top of the hill. You can’t miss it; it’s the white three story mansion that is bordered almost all around by the slums. Except for the side that faces Muthaiga and which has a private driveway. It’s a beautiful house it actually looks like a castle. The kind a gal dreams about to live in and live happily ever after. I wish it was. Appearances are deceiving because that is a castle of nightmares.

My name is Carol. I started living here two years ago when I was ten. My parents died in an accident and there was no one to claim me. Mama Salma said that she would take me in. No one argued, well no one would dare too. Mama Salma supports half of the slum I used to live in, in one way of another.

“Carol you are going to be very happy with me. All my gals are happy. And you are so pretty, in a couple of years you will be beautiful. Yes, you will do. Yes, you will do very nicely.” Mama Salma told me. It’s a good thing I didn’t know what she meant else I would have refused to go with her.

We walked to the edge of the slum with Mama Salma. Her with her beautiful fashionable clothes and me with my hand me down second hand clothes. A Mercedes picked us up from the edge of the slum and drove towards a gated compound just next to the slum. The gates opened themselves as if by magic and I only discovered later that they were called electric gates.

As the white mansion neared I was caught up in amazement at the lawn and the compound the likes of which I had only seen on TV. The mansion was big, a massive three floors. The inside was even more impressive. It was painted in shades of red and cream and the floors were marble. It was beautiful. I almost pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

I was taken to the second floor. The pretty lady who took me there smiled and opened for me a room. “This will be your room,” she said. I was stunned. I asked, “I will be sharing this room with others children?”

“No! it’s just you. We need to get you out of those awful clothes. You need to get clean and then we will de-lice you. We can’t have you not looking beautiful. Come let me show you the bathroom.”

I wondered what it is about beauty that attracted these people. I had noticed that all the people I had met had been either handsome or beautiful. People told me I was pretty. My daddy actually used to tell me I was beautiful and when I would grow up I would turn heads.

I was short; I had pretty brown eyes, a light brown complexion and long natural hair. I hadn’t started blooming yet. My breasts had not come out and neither had my hips. I was a rose about to bloom. Looking back to then when I was naïve and innocent I was a rose ripe to be picked and bloom in someone’s garden.

After I had been washed, (I found this strange as I had not been washed since I was 4) the pretty lady who had introduced herself as Natalie, went out and when she returned she had some beautiful dresses and sandals. “Pick one and wear it,” Natalie said.

I was unsure of what to choose. I had never had new, new clothes. All my clothes had been bought second hand from the market or handed down to me by my cousins. I choose a yellow sundress and some pretty red sandals.

Natalie sat me down after that and told me there were rules to be followed in the house. The first rule is that I was never to go anyone unaccompanied by someone from the house. The second was that what happened in the house was private it was not for telling to strangers. The third was that I should never try to run away or break any of the above rules otherwise I would be punished. The fourth rule was that I was not to leave my room without permission. Natalie asked me whether I understand and I said I did.

Natalie said with a sad smile, “you don’t have to stay here. Do you have any relatives that you can go stay with? You have one chance to leave and that’s right now.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” said I.

Natalie sighed and then said, “Well now that you’re here to stay I’ll be taking care of you.” She reached for the telephone, dialled some numbers and said, “Please bring some food for Carol. Some chips, chicken, and a soda will do. And ice-cream for desert.”

Natalie looked at me and told me, “If you need me press three. That’s my number. Enjoy your food.”

I was left in this room that was big enough to fit our old house plus another two. There was a big bed in the middle of the room. It had a pink bedspread, pink frills and even a mosquito net. I thanked God for these wonderful strangers who had taken me in and had given me luxury that I had never imagined. At home I used to sleep on a mattress on the floor because there was only one bed, my parent’s 3 by 4.

For the next two weeks I never left my room. I watched TV on a big screen TV that was brought to my room. I ate, showered and relaxed that’s all I did. In fact I started adding abit of weight on my bones.

One day when I was watching TV Natalie came and ordered me to bath. “We are having special guests tonight. They all want to see you. They have heard how pretty you are and they want to see you for themselves,” she said.

Natalie took me to the bathroom and this time again she washed me then she braided my hair into cornrows. She oiled me with some fragrantly smelling oil and sprayed some perfume on me. When we returned to my room there was a lacy dress that did not seem to have any lining. Wear that, I was ordered. I was puzzled but I was too frightened to speak. Natalie had this expression on her face I cant describe it but I felt scared. There was no underwear and when I asked for some I was told it doesn’t matter. She gave me a glass with some juice and told me to drink it. It tasted funny but since I didn’t want to argue I drank it up.

We went downstairs through a lift that was at the end of the corridor. I was taken to a large room where there were many chairs and a sort of stage with one seat. I was told to seat there. There were men in the room, no women except Mama Salma and Natalie. Natalie came and stood by me. The men were drinking. I was young but I knew the smell of alcohol.

I sat there feeling so uncomfortable. I was wondering who these men were and what they were doing there. And all these men were looking at me. They were around 20 of them. Some old and some young. They all had one thing in common. They all looked rich. Having lived in the slum you can tell when someone had money. You can look at their face, nails and hands and clothes and you can tell.

After a while mama Salma stood and clapped. She smiled and said, “welcome gentlemen. It is our honour to host you again at our lovely abode. Today we have a tasty morsel for you. We have managed to acquire into our family a young untouched gal. She is a virgin and she is up for sale. We will start bidding at 120,000 thousand. Gentlemen come look at the merchandise. Isn’t she beautiful?”

At this point I was shaking. I looked around; I thought they were talking about someone else. But when the men started walking towards me with leery grins I realised I was in trouble. I was in deep deep trouble. I couldn’t believe that this could be happening to me. I started feeling dizzy and my heart was racing. I tried to stand and run away. Natalie held me down to the chair. For some reason I was feeling tired and my muscles were not obeying my commands.

When the first man came and started touching my face and caressing it, I fainted!

End of part 1

to be continued

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Sugar high

Your sugar, you give me a sugar rush.
I feel a buzz and energized.
Your like weed you make me giggle, laugh and talk to myself.
Your like a current, you take the positive and negative in me and light me up.
You cause sparks to fly in me because your a fire
And i love you because you make me feel warm.
Your like sprite because you quench the thirst in me to be loved.
Yet sometimes your like a football, I want to kick you for taking me for grated.
Your iron too, because iron sharpens iron,
Yet your titanium because a man like you is rare.
Your like music you make me want to dance and sing.
Yet your like cake I wonder if I can have my cake and eat it too.
Your so many things yet your still one guy.
You make me laugh yet sometimes you make me want to cry.
But that's you.
Your complex yet simple.
I don't think I'll ever completely figure you out
But I love the journey.
Its trilling yet petrifying.
I love it!

Friday, June 18, 2010

Temptress

I was handsome and powerful. I had a destiny set out for me from even before I was born. I was a hero, everybody adored me.

But she, she brought me to my knees. She was very beautiful, with a body that seduced with every step she took. I couldn't get my mind off her. I knew I should resist her but she was so tempting, so irresistible.

She was not of my class, social status and most important my tribe. But it didn’t matter to me. She made me feel like The Man. Made me feel like no woman had ever made me feel. Made me want to do anything for her. And I did.

I endured the scorn of my people and hers. In the end she was my undoing, I did not know she had an agenda.

I had a secret, a secret that only God, my family and I knew. She played me like a violin. I sang like a canary. Well, at first I lied but eventually I told her my secret. Then she destroyed me by selling my secret for silver.

They broke me and chained me. Now I stand half naked, a broken man, blinded by love and by man. They mock me, drink to my humiliation. But even now I am still a man, with a destiny to fulfill. I pray to the God I used to serve for a chance for redemption and revenge.

Baby, my seductress, my poison, my Achilles heel, you and your friends may have ruled me out but see now here you will all die at my hands. You may have delayed my destiny but what God promised he will fulfill.

So let’s give a loud encore for my final act, bringing down the house.

My temptress Delilah! She tore out my heart, left me weeping deep into the night. I broke her nation's heart when I returned the compliment. My life for your friends, family, leaders’ lives and of course yours.

The end. Love and tragedy. Lovers and gamblers.

The hero and the temptress.

prodigal son

I wanna have fun and be free. This house feels like a jail, no freedom, no fun.

I want to party like my friends but my Daddy he's stuffy, boring. All he thinks about is making money. But what is money if you can’t have fun with it, that’s my question? So I asked my dad for my inheritance. He asked me to reconsider, told me that I shouldn’t waste my inheritance on things that cant last. I told him I got to go, I got to fly. With tears in his eyes, he gave me my settlement and told me goodbye.

Yap yap yap am going to have fun. And the parties were good. I had money to burn. There were beautiful gals and explosive drinks. I was having a ball. I had many friends and every club welcomed me with open arms. It was going great until one day my money was gone. The beautiful gals, the flashy cars, the groupies and friends they were all gone.

I had to downgrade. I had no skills or education. I got a job in a dingy cockroach infested hotel cleaning dishes. I slept behind the back entrance of the hotel, where the trash was thrown out. Sometimes I was so hungry I ate things from the bin.

One day I got sick, real sick. I wondered if I would die here, alone, poor and hungry. I thought of my father's house and how even the servants ate well. I wept when I thought of all my mistakes. I decided to go ask my dad for forgiveness and ask him to take me back as a servant.

I took the bus home. How different this was, I had left in a car and came back walking. I was so sick I could hardly walk; I dragged my feet as I approached what was once my home. Up in front I saw my father's big mansion.

I saw my father standing at the entrance. He saw me, ran towards me and hugged me. I wept, confessing that I was not worth his love and I was only fit to be a servant. He looked at me and said, "My son, I love you and forgive you. I am just happy that you are back home. Come let's get you cleaned up."

I could not believe my dad could forgive me but I was happy I get a second chance. The prodigal son was home.

Lights out

Bedtime and precious should be sleeping,
But she is huddled in bed weeping.
Daddy is creeping,
Into her bed where she should be sleeping.

Inside precious is screaming,
Goes into fantasies where she be dreaming,
That these things aren't happening.

She tries to tell mum but shes not listening,
Says she is make believing.
These tales too hard to be believing.

So little precious she be weeping,
All night because dad is creeping,
Into her bed when she should be sleeping.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Appearances

You look at me but you see right through me.

You measure everything about me from my clothes, my shoes, jewellery etc. It doesnt matter how i think, the things i believe or my talents.

You judge me based on one meeting and assessing only my external shell, my appearance. Then you say your a pretty good judge of character.

You cant even begin to scratch the surface of whom i am and what am about. I am not my hair as Erika Baduu says. Am more then my appearance.

Maybe if you looked beyond your "appearances are everything," you would realise that we have something in common.

In the meantime keep on walking by, because you are too superficial for me.

That is a judgement based on intelligence rather then appearance.

Happiness

My new ambition or goal is to be happy. This may sound strange to you. Happiness is one of those things that seem to be easy to have in theory but in practice it isnt.

Its not about having things but about attitude. Its deciding that no matter what happens you will keep up the joy. Whether you have money or not. Its about keeping a positive attitude and always realising that there's a rainbow.

I have to be honest, Ì had sank pretty low in the pessimist camp. There were nothing going right for me so why should I be happy. I hated my job, was miserable because my boo was abroad, was stressed because I was not using my talents and my relationship with God lets just say it was hanging by a thread. Lets face it I was living in a town called misery. Blaming not having this or that for my unhappiness.

I have finally realized its not what you have or the circumstances around you its whats in you that determines your happiness. Its your attitude and belief in yourself. You may have everything you have ever wanted or imagined and still be unhappy and not satisfied. And you can have nothing and still be happy.

Whats the difference? The attitude you decide to take and implement throughout the day. So I know am not where I want to be, or have the desires of my heart. Am going to choose to be happy anyway. Am going to choose happiness despite the circumstances.

I know I got a long way to go, attitudes and habits to unlearn. But a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. And thats my goal, taking the road to happier living.

Join me if you dare!

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

I'm loving ... Me!

Now it came to be, I be my worst critic. Never thinking I was good enough. Always judging me, made so many mistakes, so I was hating on me. Always fighting weight issues and self esteem. Always looking for joy, yet happiness was running from me. Thought am through, never gonna get a breakthrough. I was down for the count. Then you changed me, made me realise am beautiful, and precious. You loved me, made me see my worth. Showed me my life has just began and I am more then a conqueror. Gave me hope for today and gave me purpose for the future. You put a smile on my face because I know I got the victory. Now am loving me because Jesus you set me free. Yes now am loving ... Me!