Thursday, 8 March 2018

The Feminist that I Know:The Unsung She Hero.


My aunt is the very first feminist I knew as that’s what the names she was called could sum up to. She still is one and I thought her story should not go untold.
Growing up in a small village I had the privilege of growing up in a  very well organized small community . Everyone seemed to be following the same rules and routine and everyone knew everyone. There wasn’t so much activity going on, weekdays were for school and farming with a two market days while Saturdays were for cleaning and Sundays were for church.
As a child I stayed at my grandmother home who together with my aunt raised me up. Now, my aunt was a teacher, a very good  teacher and a well known English teacher. I still remember walking around the village and have every child stop us to great her in English. I also still remember all the extra curriculum English lessons she used to freely offer at our home. My aunt held all her students like her own children. I still remember how she will always buy uniforms for her students and even pay for their stationaries and even fees. She always knew which of her students was coming to school with a hungry stomach and which one had abusive parents. Every now and then she would summon some irresponsible parents at our home, make us save tea and snacks and disappear before she starts lecturing them about parenthood  I was always ears dropping and had my ears  pulled a  bit in a few occasions when she caught me red-handed.

We always had picnics which she organized for the children and youths. As there were not a lot of fun activities around these picnics were always highly anticipated. Kids were always instructed to ask their parents to make them some snacks and of course at home we made even more. I can still smell the rosted  chicken  and maandazi and the cake she would bake for us to share. For the picnics we usually chose a spot at the river or up one of those beautiful hills. There she will talk to us about morals and ethics and one thing I remember is she told us all to always call each other rafiki meaning a friend which became a common name. She composed a song for us as youths to sing for solidarity, unity and respect and it is still in my head. I remember she also organised basic skills classes for her students at our home where she used to teach skills such as cloth making, stitching  baking and other basics for girls such as cleanness and self respect. Every now and then a girl will be called at our house and she would speak to her in a low tone and give her something. Later on in realized she was talking to them about growing up, menstruation and she was  giving them pads. She also had a group of girls come over on Sunday evenings and gave them lessons about self worth, self respect and staying away from sex before marriage. Once in a while she will only call one girl and I will know right there that this particular girl likes boys too much. When in primary school probably class two she called me and some of my classmates and told us to strictly not allow anyone to touch our private parts. Now, this was a bit dramatic  to  us but saved one of us later in life. She told us if someone tries to touch you tell them these are for me and no one else should see them and kick them and run and make sure we tell her. Now later in life I understood her better when I  came to know  that most girls are abused at a very young age and most of the abusers are people they trust including family.

 My aunt  was a very well respected woman and very outspoken . She wasn’t married but our house was always filled with people seeking marriage counseling and the house was also a sanctuary for a lot of widows and abused women and children.  I have lost count of the number of women and kids I happened to stay with before I went off to boarding school. Most men didn’t like her especially the drunkards and irresponsible ones because she was “misleading” their wives to demand for better and to stand their grounds. Later in life when she was about to retire as a teacher she had built another home where she still host women and children who become homeless for different reasons and had no one.

She is a very charismatic, empathic and yet a very strict individual. She was also a representative of women in different political positions and a spokesman of so many women and men as well. There was an incident a community owned farm was about to be sold to one rich man and she fought so hard that she almost lost her life.  She was so brave that when some people came to request her to stop risking her life she showed them the door. That day she sat me down and told me Anna, as you carry my name I would  like you to carry the words I am telling you today, always seek truth and righteousness  and you will always be courageous. Be bold, be confident and above all be humane.
She is a great leader and have the spirit of a teacher. I remember when she found out about the great benefits of the Moringa tree and she went house by house to teach people about it and planted one tree for each house. She planted some along the village pathways as well. She would also organize the villagers to clean the village pathways and keep the place safe for everyone. There are so many incidents where she pioneered for community development activities.

The most remarkable attribute she had was being a mother and a great one as well. My aunt is strict in a loving way and a great disciplinarian. Now as a mother of two I start to understand her methods of discipline.  I remember the day I ate some ripe banana fruits from an old man and she told me to take back a whole load of grass and apologized. On another episode I misbehaved and I was punished to explain what I did and why I did it in English, I rewrote the Incident more than ten times and each time she would correct one line and tell me to go and rewrite it. She always emphasized on reading and she always made sure we had books to read, sometimes we will do it together.

She has one biological daughter but has raised hundreds of girls and boys. I remember naughty kids were always dropped at our home to learn discipline and respect, some for days, some for months and some for years. Ours was a home for everyone.
My aunt was a protector and a nurturer. She knew I loved to tell stories and she encouraged me. She always told me to stand for what I believe and not let anyone dim my light. One day I understood why she was called a feminist. One boy named Bernard did beat me up, first of all he used to call me names and I would cry and one day she pushed me to the ground and I ran home crying. My aunt was  folding clothes and ooh my, I could cry for Africa. She just stopped half way and asked me why did I not confront Bernard and I told her because he was a boy. She gave me what I always call a girl power speech. She reminded me how I always came top in class,how I always stand out and this one Bernard was just a bully and I had to always be strong and hold my head high. As she held my hand walking to Bernard house I thought she was going to speak to him for me but on arrival she only told his grandfather of how Bernard has been bullying girls and I have something to say to him. Now, I wasn’t really prepared for that but having her by my side made me so confident. When Bernard was called by his angry grandfather I stared at him for a while and words just came out. Bernard you are a bully but you won’t bully me anymore, I am strong and intelligent and I am not scared of you. Then something in me told me go and slap him as well. This story was told for years and no bully could ever shatter my self esteem.

As one of the most prayerful women I know she was also very charitable. We were always encouraged to give sometimes some of the things we liked the most and to feel good about it. Prayer was never an option, she has always insisted when you know and respect God you can as well respect yourself and fellow human beings. There were a lot of old people at the village and some had lost their children. She would always schedule food deliveries and help with house chores. Most young people obeyed the instructions she gave about that.

People respect her, trust her, adore her and love her. There are a few who don’t like her that much which is okay. Some fear her and some don't understand her. Everyday I tell myself if being a feminist is being bold, strong courageous, disciplined, outspoken, always standing out for yourself and  watching out for the less privileged and the less fortunate then I want to be a  feminist too. Now a retired teacher, she leads a quieter life but still leads by example. Her mark is left in so many people she has helped to stay in school or just spoken life too. She is my truest she hero i know who deserves to be crowned.

Tuesday, 13 February 2018

The Vicious Cycle of Prostitution

You know what they say about experience being the best teacher, it really is.So last week I met this well travelled, well read, adventurous, and experienced man who is also a great trader and mentor. It was just by luck that I had a chance to drink a little from his well of knowledge and wisdom. Initially, we met to speak about my initiative to inspire and encourage more young ladies to read a lot more so as to grow their knowledge and skills. The conversation just got more deeper and we found ourselves discussing about one of the things that has enslaved so many girls and that's prostitution. There was soo much information shared but what caught my attention and really still haunts me is the way this vicious cycle isn't about to come to an end anytime soon. He actually told me of how this is one of the oldest professions in the world and we had our long argument there, that's a story for another day. He narrated to me how one of his friends who was working for an NGO worked with a group of ladies at one of the borders involved in prostitution. The sad encounters and stories i was told made me dig deeper.

 This is what was happening and still does happen, Halima(not a real life character) who is a young girl drops out of school because of poverty, leaves the village to go to this little township at the border to find a job  and earn some money to help her family get by and maybe send her siblings to school.She really wants to earn some money and the only way the whole family knows she can is to work at the township whichis one of the bussiest transit point for trucks carrying loads across boarders and also one of the places most truck drivers spend the night. One or both her parents have heard some of the upleasant stories about what 'jobs' girls from the village end up  dong i in this township,  still they have hopes that their little girl will be smarter than the others as they have raised her better, she will go into food business or hawking. Halima then  gets to this little township, with a little money trying to get a job or start a little business. Before she knows it the money finishes and the easiest way she can land  a place to stay is share a room with this group of ladies who works at night. They now convince her that the easiest way she can earn a living and chip in the rent and other expenses is join them in what they do as most of them will spend soo much time explaining how this is the only way she can survive. This young girl is naive and scared but then she thinks of her poverty stricken family in the village and how she wants to send her young sisters and brothers to school.  She vows to do this only this once and use the money to start a food business. However, Halima finds out that the money is not enough to sustain her and start a business or even send home so  she thinks of getting  a couple of more clients, earn enough money and stop there. But then this trade she has gotten herself into needs more capital than she thought. To make herself more appealing she uses the money she got from her first customers to buy herself lipstick, some clothes and shoes as they all commented on how shabby and "mshamba" she looked some even told Halima they would have paid her  more if she had upgraded herself a bit. Acting on the insecurities planted into her with those men she thinks well, maybe with a little wig and perfume she will make more money.  And just like that months goes by  and halima has neither  sent money home nor has she  helped her siblings to start school. Then she meets the lady working for an NGO who tells her of the dangers of her job and advice her to go for HIV testing. This lady even gives her free condoms begging her to use them if she must continue with this business.  But then there is a problem, the other girls have found a way to  gain an extra 5-10 thousand shillings which is  to offer sex without protection which most of these men prefer to and pay more than to the girls who now insists on using protection and she thinks why not earn an extra shilling.

Now this is the worst part, Halima  contracts HIV and later gets sick from AIDs. She goes home where her now aging parents took care of her the best way they know and can and she later died. All her life dreams ended there with nothing to write home about. After all that, her sisters did not go to school and her family is still poverty stricken and maybe another young sister will have to go to the little township to find a job as well and help her family and maybe it will just be the same thing over and over again. Some  of the ladies she worked with died at the township  or went home to be taken care with their families and died as well within a short period of time as most of their families don't have an access to the necessary medical information and services to take care of them.

It is a vicious cycle and it won't come to an end anytime soon.  He  actually told me he thinks it's  not even material poverty which really causes this and I joined in as we said together, It is poverty of the mind.  Illiteracy is the worst enemy of an African girl child  be it in the rural or urban areas. It sucks her in and take everything she could ever come to achieve. It's the  strong glue that holds this vicious circle together. I sat there, with my now cold  half-filled  cup of tea. I stared in the space for a while thoughts of whether to order another cup of tea or not crossed my mind too, when i realised  i was actually sweating not necessarily from this city weather and i gave up the thought.

Now,  today as i was getting my presentation ready for some girls i have to address at one of the orphanages  on self-love, self-worth, self-esteem and self-discipline when i go to drop a few books my older friend has given for them i could not keep my mind  of Halima. I think it will haunt me for even longer now that i have made a research and know there are so many Halimas  in this city, in other cities and rural areas, in Africa and all over the world, some do not move to a township, some do not even meet truck drivers but all of them are deeply enclosed in this vicious cycle. I hope someone finds one Halima before it is too late, i hope someone reaches to Halima and speak hope and freedom into her  mind and changes her mindset and life before this cycle swallows her up. I hope someone shows and teaches Halima that there is better to life than this cycle. I hope life becomes better around Halima.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Beyond the Smile!

She smiles
when lights go on
delight on the likes
blushes on the shouts
poses,waves and hair flips.

when night falls
she hides
her scars run deep
with dirty dark secrets
the ghosts of her past
hoovering in the dark
she shivers
wet her pillows
she stands
switch on the lights
only to find
mirrors staring at her
with the dark lines
of her mascara

                           
                           

Sunday, 4 June 2017

My Speech

I prepared my speech
Walking down the village
Jumping up and down the hills
Singing like a little freed bird
Helping old women carry their loads off their shoulders

I scribbled it down
Waking up early every Monday
Have school work done by every Friday
Cleaning the church every Saturday
Singing in the choir every Sunday

My speech was coloured
With my morning long walks to school
Filled with doubt and wonder
When it rained and when it thundered
It was sealed by my commitment to read at the candlelight

I put every word together
When the moon came out and I sat there quietly
Counting the stars like I am one of them
And down the river each cold morning
When I soaked my body in the ice cold running water

I had it all figured out
As I climbed the steep hills to our little house
Singing while balancing my can of water for the day
When the sun came out to warm my skin
And the Kilimanjaro in its glory
Was left bare for me to see


My Speech was corrected
Every time my aunt scolded me for my work
Every minute I had to write an essay of apologies
Every time I fell down going up the hills
Every single minute I was told you can’t have it
Every moment grandma kind eyes said she can’t do much

I had it all pieced together
When mama said I was the brightest
When grandma assured I was the kindest
When dad affirmed I was the strongest
When my siblings looked at me with their hopes at best
When friends called me the fiercest
When I finally knew my place

I rewrote it
When I realised there are no deadlines
To what I had in mind
When I knew I was the one
To write my ending
When I came to realise
I dint have to be like everyone
When I came to terms
With the journey I will walk alone

I am my speech
It’s written all over me
The cheers of my friends on my smile
The scorns of my enemies at my back
The scars of the falls on my ankles
The sparkle of my victories in my eyes
The depth of my love and passions
Deeply felt by the people I have touched
The happiness in my baby’s laughter
The peace in me when I go to sleep

It’s all me and so much more
Ready to walk on
What a journey to behold
To find the left pieces
To fit them in the empty places
And complete my speech of a lifetime

It is not an acceptance speech
For the award I am to win
Or the appreciation I will be accorded
I know if I don’t win a thing
I will definitely be the best version of me





Tuesday, 9 May 2017

The Rain

I will not go out
The little pathway to my house is flooded
It has become a raging river carrying everything away
 if I dare go out I don’t know what next can happen
My little home and child might be carried away

I really want to go out
To earn my bread
Get something to cook for me and my girl
But my little stall  at  the roadside
Has been carried away

If I go out
I might not be able to come back
The little bridge to my house
Is about to be washed away
With the heavy rain it won’t last a day

My madam called today
Mad I haven’t been in today
The baby has been wailing
And her clothes are not washed
And there is the rain

She complains with this rain
She cannot sit at the garden
From her third storey bedroom
She can only peep through the curtains
And watch the heavy drops hit the ground


She could later take her four wheel drive
To go to the saloon she love
Or have some tea in bed
But I didn’t come to work
If I don’t go tomorrow she says
I should not bother to go again

But if I go to work
I might be stranded on the way
The busses to our homes
Are not going  all the way
They don’t come past the highway
Please someone stop this rain






Sunday, 7 May 2017

A moment of Silence

Beautiful souls
With dreams and hopes
Pride of their folks
Excited to learn
Off they went

With no clue off they took
What a beautiful group
But death ooh death
What an evil crook

He came with darkness
And a dark cloud of sadness
With his strike of coldness
He left them lifeless

As a nation we stand
In our numbness
Parents and friends
Mourning in silence

With hopes we hold hands
Tears in our eyes
May they be in  a  better place
A moment of silence





Thursday, 4 May 2017

Only Before!

I have known this kind of pain
I can make it through the rain
Unlike you
I can't wait in vain

I have been here before
with no hopes for tomorrow
Moving really slow
With every blow so low

When i couldn't take no more
I stood up, started really slow
To crawl
Slowly but running  here i go
I am not waiting for you to put up a show
I have been here before

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Empty Souls

Empty souls
With so much dryness
They try to fill their cup
With water from others wells
But they are never full
Never do they overflow

With shallowness
They try to dig holes
Into others wells
To dry them as well
But their souls remain
Empty spaces

With hollowness
They wonder around
Bitterness in their hearts
Venom filled tongues
Splitting evil into others
But empty they remain

With blindness
They fail to see
Clueless they move
Round and round
They stumble and fall
In their own wickedness


Their days
Are as dried up
As blown by the harmattan
Their souls
Are as lifeless
As the Atacama desert



Friday, 31 March 2017

She wept Silently!

She was taught of  silence
To be quiet and  listen
Not to ask
Have some pounded bitter herbs
Drink some warm water
And hush hush the pain

She was taught of endurance
This time each month
To keep on with her chores
While her body  in chaos
Her legs numb and heavy
Her price of womanhood

She was told to be a woman
How would you stand labour pain?
If you cannot take this little pain
How would she explain?
And if she tried to tell in vain
She will loose anyway

Now she is told it’s all her fault
She gave her womb to her witchcraft
And had too many abortions
She isn’t a woman enough
And still she lingers in her pain

She is now all grown
Have a mind of her own
Their hopes long gone
But she still holds on
To these dreams of her own
Once to hold her own

Monday, 6 March 2017

The Dancers

They don't know this song
But they dance to it
Not before have their ears met this beat
But they will break a leg for it
They don't understand this tune
But they marvel at it
Won't follow the rhythm
But will move to it
Forget about steps
They will be good at it


The drums are too loud
The dust raising high
Covering their eyes
But they dance
Their feet thumping...thumping
On the dried brown earth
Forgetting their sorrows
With no hopes for tomorrow
For the love of this music
They have never heard before 


Her Little Wins!



This time, if it happens this time
I swear
This is the last time

It was my fault, all of it
This last time
See, I hadn’t made him his favorite food
For a very long time
He isn’t that bad, didn’t he take me to Dubai ?
But this time I swear
This time I leave

I made him do it, all of it
This last time
See, I was stubborn and thoughtless
For a very long time
He isn’t that heartless; he got me my dream jeep
But this time I swear
This time I leave

I was stupid
This last time
See, I enjoyed food so much and got myself fat
For a very long time
He isn’t that horrible, he didn’t bring her to our home
Like the other time
But this time I swear
This time I leave


What do you want this time
He will ask every time
This time, a car…a house…shopping…a boutique
 He isn’t that bad
There will be a next time
And I will go to Paris
Maybe china for my merchandise
Or just Thailand to relax
That will be the very next time
But this time I leave

That time
The other time
The last time
The very last time
This time
There will always be
Another time















Sunday, 15 January 2017

The Title

Malaya
Look at how she walks, does she have to swing her hips like that?
Eti they say her body naturally shakes with her moves,is she boneless?
Lies, must be lies
She is nothing but Malaya

Malaya tuu
Look, how did she get her promotion?
Eti I  hear she was an A student and had a great work record, didn't i have the same?
Lies, must be lies
Ni malaya tuu

 Malaya sana
 Look, she only dated rich ones,and now married a rich prince
 Eti she say she loves him
 Lies , Must be lies
 Malaya sana

 Malaya Mkubwa
 Look, she had an affair with her madam husband..
 Eti she claimed he raped her, her, only the housemaid
 Lies, Must be lies
 Malaya Mkubwa

 Malaya wa kutupwa
 Look, she got an A when we all failed...
 Eti she says she is a brilliant student, brilliant more than all of us?
 Lies,Must be lies
Malaya wa kutupwa

 Malaya Kubuhu
 Look, she got the nomination to the parliament ...
 Eti she says she has done a lot for the people, more than all of us?
 Lies, Must be lies
 Malaya Kubuhu

 Malaya kashindikana 
 Look, she left her husband to seek for other men…
 Eti she says he did beat her to a pulp,he had mistresses, who doesn't?
 Lies, must be lies
 Malaya kashindikana

 Malaya kupindukia
 Look, she now has a big business, her air tickets are all now business
 Eti she brags she took a bank loan to grow her business, which loan?
 Lies, must be lies
 Malaya kupindukia

 Malaya wa barabarani
 Look, she had a number of lovers before her husband, she is now a born again Christian...
 Eti she told him she has changed,don't they all say that ?
 Lies, Must be lies
 Malaya wa barabarani


 Malaya
 They are all the same
 Everyone of them Malaya
 Each and everyone of them
 Just Malaya

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Let me Grow!

Do not pluck me
I am yet to blossom
Do not cut me
I am yet to come home

I see me grownBring forth more petals
Beautiful in colors
With more admirers

Growth brings thorns
So u say to me
You have so many worries
listen to me

The older the berry
The sweeter the juice



Wednesday, 25 March 2015

Run !

Run
The smiles,the winks
The hundreds, the thousands
The shops, the bags

Run
Sweet promises
Timely deliveries
Shoes and bags

Run
Timely romances
Short-lived passions
The touches, the squeezes

Run..............

Run .............

Run..............



Monday, 16 March 2015

Her days!

Those cold nights
With no blanket to keep her warm
Those ruthless nights
Without a soul to console her
Those too long nights
With no shoulder to cry upon
Those sleepless nights
Have made her carry on


Those hot days
Without a shade to hide under
Those cruel days
Filled with rain and thunder
Those helpless days
With miles of walks to cover
Have made her carry on

Shameful days
with a conscious to bury
fateful days
Came and go with no hurry
Days ooh days
Have made her carry on



Thursday, 12 March 2015

Arise!

Arise!
The daughter of the land
The pride of the clan
The forgotten one
Arise

Walked upon
like a doormat ...on the rainy season
Arise
Shake of the dust
You have to walk high
Arise

Beaten to a pulp...eyes swollen
Hope lost...mist forming
Arise


Monday, 2 March 2015

Babu's Touch



Sitting there, next to him
In silence
Holding hands, listening to the sounds of us breathing, his being heavier
In silence

Trying to detect his feelings, maybe what he would have said to me
If he was to say anything
And there it was
Peace, peace found through pain
His breathing got louder
And I hold in my breath, look at his face
I see what I saw earlier..peace
Only through God this kind of peace can be found
I look at him and say
Look here grandpa!
It is raining outside
And he smiles and his gripping on my hand increased
Isn't that beautiful, how we can all find joy through what we always take for granted
When every little thing, even a simple taking in of breath is a struggle
But someone still hold on and manage a smile, that's strength..strength and hope
It takes courage too And we all have it now
And everytime I walk out as i am doing now I feel so alive, strong and hopeful
Isn't that what he would want us all to be

Dad's Broken Hearted Girl



As i sat there staring into the room
tears kept flowing
Like the Mount Kilimanjaro rivers during rainy season
They streamed down
I have been trying so hard not to cry
so hard, very hard
But the hot tears have swollen the inside of my eyes
Welled up to form little hot pools inside
burning them that they cannot hold on anymore
And they just let them go
Let them flow vigorously down my cheeks
Burn them a bit..they are tender cheeks

Just when i thought everything was falling in place
Don't we all have a plan?
And all over a sudden it all disappears
just like the snow at the sight of the sun
Some people say destiny takes it course
But i do not believe in that now
Destiny was to be on my side now

I have tried so hard to be good...God knows i have
You don't know how you spear my heart
You just cut through that tender spot i so dearly kept for you
And as you tear me apart you loose one of your parts
i always loved you the most
And see what you have done to that love
Put it on the line of fire
Shame...ooh what a shame

You know what they say about a girl's first love
And you really are
A hero i saw when you swept across the compound
Ooh...didn't you know?
You were the tallest man I knew..
I would run to you as fast as my little girl legs could carry me
So that you could swing me on your shoulders
Let me see the world from there
The horizon of my life from up there
And grandma will cry out....Ooh this poor little thing
She will break those legs one of these days with all that running

And i thought i will always be on your shoulders
Expectations
I looked up to you
And now
No man can ever break my heart.
Should i be thankful for that?
My first love took that away

No love lost

My mind kept wondering
And all i could find were empty spaces
and i journeyed into my present
isn't this what i feared the most?
life without love
Not just any love
love from that one person.
And how could i not blame me,
me for just being me
always questioning, checking and checking again
What a nuisance!
Am I wrong though?
who doesn't nowadays
Only that i am loud about it
Too loud actually
And finally i ask myself
Was the love even there
Why then did i have to check

So again i went into the empty spaces
And now even emptier
No nothing...no love
Just some imagined fantasies
And we both know what that is
We cannot expect love, love from he who doesn't love himself
Too much to ask for

So i arise from my sorrows
Wash my face, just to be sure
Get out of the room
Feel the wind on my cheeks
As i start walking down the street
I start living again
No love lost