When Love bites

You meet him and instantly fall in love. Well, to be accurate, that fuzzy feeling has being brewing in you even before you first saw him. But now that you've met him, the fuzziness is the antidote to all the queerness you do not want to feel again.

So...

You meet him and instantly fall in love. Your feelings have nothing to do with the flashy car he drives or the classy suit he dons. Neither are you enticed by his expensive watch and his educated flair.

Because he has none of that.

His simple clothes and worn shoe soles tell of his mastery of the Gikomba market. On his wrist is a plastic band, bravely indicating that he knows his status. His HIV-Aids status of course. You are already so taken in by him that social status does not register at the moment. He tells time from the Nokia flap strategically seated on his left lap. His English though fluent and polished with the tell-tales of a grammar Nazi, is heavily laden with an accent reminiscent of lower Eastern Kenya.

You are so drawn to him that you feel that you must love me. You know there's no more fooling your heart. You already want to belong with him.

But what is his charm? It could be his witty sense of humour; or his factual arguments; or perhaps his point blank articulation of the political landscape. You already know you'll copy his points elsewhere during arguments to appear more intelligent.

Or could it be his manly grin? That grin brings to life the butterflies in your spine and sends blood to your lips.
Or perhaps it is the attentive way he listens to you. As though when your lips part the earth is nourished.

It could be all of him. You love how he wears his manhood better than you do your sassy. You decide that he simply must be the one from whose rib you were chiselled.

…

That was the first date. And you already agreed to belong with him.

Life begins to colour a new. Your lips are always flirting with laughter and your ribs are easily tickled. So many things now make you laugh. This love ignites a spark so bright it lightens up your once grouchy being.

Shyly, he invites you to his single room. He is excessively nervous and apprehensive that you will be so underwhelmed that you will call it quits. He has a bed, a stove and a few utensils. And books on the bed; books in the carton beside his bed; books under his bed; and books and newspapers on the floor. And books acting as a laptop holder.

Perhaps it is your mutual love for literature. And his mastery of the seductive art of putting pen to paper.
Yes, you were an avid reader of his blog long before you knew his real name.

You are disposable

How can you not see that you are disposable? How can you not know that?

You will exit. Your time will be up before you are ready to bow out. And the sun will continue to rise and scorch bald heads. And it will set in it's ever magnificent splendour, bewitching the souls of many an art lover. The wind will blow lazily over your tomb and rage ferociously at it's sole pleasure.

They say water remembers, water always remembers. But who are you, that it remembers you before it does those whose remains are now coral; whom the seas so intimately knew. Water washes off from memory. Water will angrily wipe away all traces of your existence.

Because the elements were here in service of this earth. Like faithful soldiers forever marking time. Even fire will refuse to acknowledge your scent. The earth will not pause to acknowledge you termination. How can you not see that?

Souls more deserving of life than yourself have been shut off. Lives more meaningful than you deem your own to be. People more useful than yourself have reached their end. Everyone dies. You will, before you are ready to.

Now is all you have.

Method to My Madness

For one to become a worthy scribe, to master the enchantment of words, some madness must creep in. The right amount of madness must find space in the mind and brew intently, before the ghouls that tend to it may flow through the pen in the writer’s hand to form a masterpiece of literature.

I do not desire the madness. To desire madness is to be mad. It is to lose one’s mind, and who is to say the mind will be found again. Once unscrewed, some bolts may decide to wander free, or a nut may decide not to fit just as right as it had before. I remain adamant; I do not desire the madness. I only want to bring to life the characters that have outlived my imagination, those who have outgrown the spaces inside my head and must now find a new home. Yet I cannot achieve the inebriation without partaking of the communion.

A writer can never just leave the mind be. There is constant need to rearrange the way we see ordinary things. We must learn to not only listen to the things left unsaid, but to sniff out the details yet to be thought as well. One must see every strains of light in a dark sky and the shadows that refuse to conform. Writing, creative writing, must result from the perceptions of the third eye, from the resilience of a mind that insists on the imperfection of perfection. It is such keenness that separates the grain from the chaff. This is the absolute madness.

My Groom

I am an open-eyed girl. Able to perceive more than I can see and hear more than is said. I have learned to think about more than there is room to say.
And I have decided to pick my groom for myself.
I do not want to be wined and dined in witness of shy candle-lights. The thought alone stinks of dirty politics. I want my man to stumble before me and lay down his hunt before the sun goes for a quickie. I want him to roast it while my friends watch and salivate. I want him to feed me from his hands.
Chiseled men with muscles shaped in a gym do not seduce me. Nor does the nauseating colognes you insist on importing from worlds you cannot point out on a map. I like the scent they leave on your skin, but I am not aroused. I do not fantasize of making love to you after you butter your skin with lotions and spa treatments. What do you call that thing which makes you skin soft like a baby’s buttocks? I won’t be overcome by passion making love to a man under whose skin I cannot bury my nails. Because he wants his skin to appear flawless when he takes selfies for instagram.
I do not yearn for fine polished jewelry displayed under thick expensive glass. I will wear beads that tell a story, beads whose vibrant colours reflect my love for life. And make me proud. I want the texture of my hands to say that I am the proud daughter of a hardworking clan. When I walk I want the earth to thud and hum to the sway of my hips.
He who will wife me must acknowledge that I have substance between my ears. My cup of tea is a man whose laughter vibrates like the echo of celebration drums, not the scary echo of a cave. One who yearns to preserve my beauty; whether the shade of my skin be as glorious as a berry or as lustrous as a thousand shillings note.
I want to be with a man I will admire. A man whose value is measured not as superior or inferior to another human being, but by his humanity in a cruel world.

I originally published this post on the Storymoja Festival blog on 7th August, 2015:

SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT GOALS (SDG's)

Sustainable Development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. 

What are The Sustainable Development Goals?

These are a set of globally agreed goals which member countries of the UN have committed to strive for, in order to achieve sustainable development globally.

There are three dimensions of sustainable development: Social development; Economic development; and Environmental protection.

The 17 Global Goals (SDGs)

1. End poverty in all its forms everywhere.
2. End hunger, achieve food security and improved nutrition and promote sustainable agriculture.
3. Ensure healthy lives and promote well-being for all.
4. Ensure inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all.
5. Achieve gender equality and empower all women and girls.
6. Ensure access to water and sanitation for all.
7. Ensure access to affordable, reliable, sustainable and modern energy for all.
8. Promote inclusive and sustainable economic growth, employment and decent work for all.
9. Build resilient infrastructure, promote sustainable industrialization and foster innovation
10. Reduce inequality within and among countries.
11. Make cities inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable.
12. Ensure sustainable consumption and production patterns.
13. Take urgent action to combat climate change and its impacts.
14. Conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas and
    marine resources.
15. Sustainably manage forests, combat desertification, halt and reverse land degradation, halt biodiversity loss.
16. Promote just, peaceful and inclusive societies.
17. Revitalize the global partnership for sustainable development.

I see myself

I get overwhelmed every time I stop and really look in the mirror. Not by my feminine features, no. I have had these boobs and soft hips for so long now that they are no longer a novelty to me. I barely recall what I looked like before puberty set in, before my body transformed. I kept my hair short for most of primary school. So at that age where for some kids, hair is the only gender telltale, I had no distinguishing features. Many are the times I got worked up into a huff because people innocently thought me a boy. Now I can barely summon those images of myself from memory. I only remember myself as I am now.

In the mirror, I see keen scrutiny. I am both the specimen of study and the eagle eye that stares right through as though my soul were an open casket. I am shocked by the scars I thought were long healed, some whose origin I can not place. I see me. And I want to ask questions so I can perhaps comprehend me.

But that scares me. Moments of reflection or conversations with myself make me nervous. I have a pretty well developed ego. The easiest way to inflate it so to live in oblivion. Avoid those weird ‘self examination; moments and just take on life unburdened by conscience.

I find that impossible to do. Perhaps because growing up, I was taught the importance of self evaluation.

The reason I am often overcome by emotion whenever I stop and look at me within is because I see me as I had dreamed. I see both the woman I had wanted to become, and the woman I have turned out to be. On one hand, I see my motivation, a girl whose zeal I am familiar with. I see a woman who doesn’t know self doubt. She is sure of herself. She is living up to the standards and plans I dreamed for me. On the other hand I see both the strain of loss and the shimmer of victory in the lines of her eyes. She has been scarred and carries with her a bitterness I do not know how to erase. And she wears her achievements with both a secure pride and a fragile arrogance. She has made it thus far, worn out and yet fired up and ready to go on.

I see myself.

I am a child. I am an adult.

I am still a girl. I am already a woman.

I am clueless. I know exactly who I am.

I am very fragile. I am extremely strong.

THE PLEASURE OF READING

I cannot remember when I started to enjoy reading. To read for the sheer pleasure of living in that well woven story and beyond. I cannot pinpoint the exact moment when the magic infested my being.

I have fallen in love, hated with unquenchable loathing and felt the bluntness of indifference. I have devoured worldly cuisine and danced in grand ball rooms. I have been to war; I have fought to death, I have lost and I have conquered. I have been to slave dungeons and to thieves dens and to brothels . I have been ruler and I have been an outlaw; a gallant fighter and a pauper. I have been unmoved as I beheld the grandeur present in this world and I been left breathless by the simplest moments in life. All through an authors wizardry.

I have been to places and to times and in thoughts within whose pages I remain a willing prisoner. I have found myself enchanted by the worlds enshrined in these books. I have been carried off into worlds that have no other entrance save for indulgence into the written word. I have lived in worlds that I have long forgotten. Because after I closed the last page, I left and never went back like I ought to have.

It is through the written word that the peculiarity of this world makes sense to me. That I find peace with the queer way in which I see the world, in which it actually is. I've known that the few lucid moments are in fact the world's most insane moments.

Share the magic

I may not recall my first dive, but I remember the times my two younger sisters began to read. Not study for school. To read. Long after I have forgotten about the occurrences, I will remember the feeling of pride that swelled in me the first few days I found them scouring through my small library for a new read. How do I forget the tears I held back when the youngest first asked for a book recommendation? Or when we had our first book review together? I remember when Joy, who is an aspiring chef, stayed up all night to re-read Delicious by Sherry Thomas. I was filled with the excitement of sharing these magical experiences.

Oh the pleasures of letting others in. The divine pleasure of allowing others to share in the joys of reading.

I enjoy sharing with others. Exchanging a book every now and then is a healthy habit. Tough truly, everyone should buy their own books. It is evil to share those PDF's or scanned books we are constantly sending via email. A lot of work and sweat went into the writing and producing of that book. Why swindle the creators? Why not respect copyright?

I love to find and discover new genres of literature and diverse styles of writing. I enjoy breaking out of my comfort zone every now and then. My preferences are fantasy fiction, historical romances, epic novels and books celebrating women. I have a special knack for biographies of revolutionaries. I venture into science fiction and spiritual books every now and then. But I remain hesitant with 'how to' books or is it 'motivational' books? Quite honestly, the one thing that experience consistently teaches is that no one knows it all. So I find it hypocritical and condescending that anyone would purport to have the formula for life. Unless it's a cook book of course. As long as the process culminates with me savoring a delicacy, I will follow instructions to the tee. Regardless, I have received copies of such books from friends and family; and I have had the decency to read them.

What was the point here? Oh, break out often. Variety is the spice of life. So why not discover and follow new paths? Often, that book that I would ordinarily never pick up has turned out to be the doorway to a rabbit hole. I have discovered and found home in a world previously unknown.

Reading enlarges you

Reading informs the mind.

Art speaks to the heart. I like my artistic literature presented in various forms. I love graffiti, especially when it disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed. Poetry is my ecstasy, it makes my knees go weak and my heart mellow jelly. Spoken word awakens the revolutionary in me. When an artiste paints the evils, the exploitation and the struggles of our people, they pop up the Mekatilili in me; and I am incited to pull my weight in making this world the safe place it ought to be.

Never stop reading

Become a bookworm. Pick up the magic. Open up a book every chance you get. Scour the internet for the numerous blogs that abide. Rummage through newspapers. Stare keenly at billboards. Listen to even the pausing breaths in every conversation.

You should never allow yourself to get too busy for the pleasures of the written word. Do not allow the chase for education to limit the scope of your reading. Do not bury yourself so deep in chores and labour that you have no room to read. Choose the unbridled and timeless pleasures of a good read over making merry and wasting your breathe on the fleeting moments this world offers.

When you stop reading, your mind begins to go blind. You find yourself laughing to lame jokes, because you gave up the grinding stone that sharpened your humor. You become prone to cheesy lines now that your heart no longer remembers the mirth of an eloquently embroidered betrothal.

Your arguments become shallow faster than you realize. Then of course you will realize, long after you have made a fool of yourself where you were seeking to seed a lasting impression.  You will know that you have lost the confidence of a smart quip and are now slave to ignorant remarks.

When you stop reading, stupidity sets in to fill the void. So read, read and read some more. Oh, and look up every few centuries to pull in a deep breathe.

Youth and Ideology

The youth are now more conscious than ever before. We hear everything. We see it all. We think about issues that you may not know we do. We feel connected to a wide range of subjects. We know a lot about stuff. And we seek out knowledge more ardently than we may let on. The youth are not an ignorant bunch.

Society has set too many highs in life for us to chase. Money, technology and its gadgets, fame. And we love this way of life. In fact, we are always at a loss trying to comprehend that there ever was a different way. We know there was a time before telephones and before the internet was here, when life was ‘simpler’. And we are glad that we exist in this time, not before. See, this lifestyle is not forced on us by society. Which society? We are society.

Youth are no the leaders of tomorrow. We know that both the present and the future are ours to influence. We are eager to find a purpose and live it out. A lot is wrong in society; we are hungry to make a change. We thirst to chart our way and leave a mark for future generations. We are more alive now in all aspects of life, even though established regimes and bureaucracies tend to have little to no room for us, be it in the economic sectors or the political. A majority of the entrepreneurs who control our economies today got their feet in as youths. The politicians that we often dismiss as old folks drunk with power, are only that in deep because they took their first bite in their youthful days. Hence we know it is a fallacy to expect that they will hand over that which they worked hard for. We are ready to jump into the ring and compete for our place within and at the top.

The youth are not an ignorant bunch. Take a look at how radical we are, radical in all extremes. Often this is attributed to ‘brainwash’. I refute that. Our choices are our own. We have beliefs and ideologies that we hold as dear as life itself. And ideologies are in their nature quite often radical and extremely intoxicating. I admit that too often some of the ideologies held by a fair number amongst us are misinformed and illogical. And some of us are unconscious to these radical ideologies, until they put to test.

As youth, especially in Africa, we are faced with a lot of injustice and economic imbalances. Many among us still lack basic education and the resources to create a better alternative. Still, we use the opportunities we have, the networks at our disposal and the support we receive. We are creating the Africa we want. Simply look at all the social innovations and entrepreneurship projects initiated everyday. We are ready to do something about the challenges we face, because we don’t just want a better tomorrow, we insist on a better today.

So where do we start? By understanding and acknowledging who we are. The truth is that both a society and an individual are defined by their history. We can never move forward without first realizing where we are coming from, where we are going and where got stuck.

THE POST-2015 DEVELOPMENT AGENDA

Transition from the Millennium Development Goals to the Sustainable Development Goals

The millennium development goals were a set of ambitious goals developed at the turn of this century, by the United Nations Secretary General’s office. They were then presented to the member nations of the UN, were tasked with making steps towards their achievement, in the pursuit of meaningful development.

The operational years of these goals was set at fifteen years, at the end of which countries ought to have reached the goal posts. That is, from the year 2000 until 2015.

The 8 Millennium Development Goals

1.     Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger.

2.     Achieve universal primary education.

3.     Promote gender equality and empower women.

4.     Reduce child mortality.

5.     Improve maternal health.

6.     Combat HIV/AIDs, malaria and other diseases.

7.     Ensure environmental sustainability.

8.     Develop a global partnership for development.

A lot of laudable efforts were made and the world has made many development advances in the past fifteen years owing to projects and partnerships inspired by the MDGs. However, there has been uneven progress across goals and targets.

Assessing Progress

Basic education has become more accessible to a wider population. This has been enabled by building of more schools and either subsidizing cost of primary education in most third world countries.

Poverty and hunger have yet to be eradicated. Despite the impressive development goals achieved thus far, and the growth in the world economy, a staggering 12.7% of the world's population are today living below the poverty line[1]. The gap between the rich and the poor has also continued to increase.

HIV/AIDs, though still incurable, has been better managed and its spread greatly curbed through various efforts. Medication for those ailing is being availed free of charge. Malaria has been well managed over the years, through preventive measures and developing and availing quality medication.

Environmental conservation has been at the forefront of many development projects. It must however be acknowledged, that this is among the goals with the least progress due to the reactionary, rather that preventive nature of most conservation efforts employed thus far.

Maternal health has improved and child mortality rates have reduced in a number of countries. There are however still diverse disparities within and across countries, especially in the third world.

Gender equality has greatly improved. More girls have access to education and economic opportunities than previously. In addition, women rights are now recognized as human rights, even though there are places where implementation is still lagging.

                                                     

The Millennium Development Goals have not been fully achieved. Why SDG's then?

The time-line set for achievement of the MDG's has expired; their achievement is still far off. It would perhaps appear reasonable to extend the time-line. However, that would also include dragging along the challenges and setbacks experienced.

To ensure that the succeeding development agenda is adequately addressed, it became necessary to shift from previous approaches. The new approach included taking into account the emerging gaps in the implementation of development projects.

Therefore, there have been five major transformational shifts in the formulation of the Post-2015 Development Agenda:

i.       Leave no one behind.

ii.     Put sustainable development at the core.

iii.   Transform economies for jobs and inclusive growth.

iv.   Build peace and effective, open and accountable institutions for all.

v.     Forge a new global partnership.

This approach will boost the clamour to end extreme poverty; Halt climate change and environmental degradation; Diversify economies and accessibility of resources; Promote peace and good governance, and build societies free from fear, conflict or violence; and Enhance solidarity, cooperation and mutual accountability.

---

[1] http://www.worldbank.org/en/topic/poverty/overview

Did we forget how to love?

We seem not to remember how to love. When did we forget?

My poetry has become like a tomb where rhythm no longer chymes. My nostrils have made a home for the rotting scent of the flowers you no longer pick for me.

We could go back to that moment when the rain started beating us. Retrace our steps to the last time love was bliss. Maybe then we would find the right path this time. Maybe then we'd avoid hurting each other.

But can the cracks be mend? Can we turn back time by winding up the clock? It seems to be all futile now. Every effort we make, we seem to blunder. Like we no longer know how to set the ignition. Like that spark that lit our path has long been extinguished.

It makes my heart mourn. And I wonder how you feel about it all. Does your heart twist as well? Does all this take away your energy for life too?

I don't want to blame you. To say that you destroyed what we had build all these years. Because it is past the time for pointing fingers. Because now every time we point a finger, it is those which remain pointing at us that we must glare at.

I want to feel sunlight again. I yearn to laugh again. I yearn to writhe in pleasure under the body of the one I love. But it seems that the best of us now lies only in the piles of our memories. Beneath all the hurt and tears that accompany us now.

Hold my hand again when there is no audience to watch. Then we can recover the colours we initially admired in each other. Then the moon will remember to glow through the double-curtained window while you trace your finger along my skin. Then our hearts will remember to beat to the rhythmic desires beyond our loins.

And I will have no more use for a practiced smile.