MY COUNTRY

My country
My love
Sweet and mellow
Like a dove
In you I was raised
In you I grew
And in you I will die
I will forever hold you in exhalted esteem
Higher than the tallest of landmarks
Your making, my being
Your being, my existance
Do those that make you look bad
Not see the thunder you steal
By the athletes you raise?
Do they ignore the performers you raise
All for a cheap sensationalism to get ahead?
By nature you have weaknesses
But by nature too you have strengths
And it is in your thriving goodness
That we revel
We are here
Because we conquered,
Laid to rest our fear
So as they pelt us
Stone us for their amusement
We desensitise
And trudge on in defiance
Because blessed is you
Kenya, my land.
With eyes ahead
Over obtacles, we keep moving
Backwards never, lest we keep losing
And in our grinding
We keep you growing
Eyes firmly on the road
To  see how far we head
With our faces brimming with hope
As we lay the ghosts of the past to bed.

I love you Kenya, my land
My mum and dad
Through good and bad
I will stick by you.

From 'The Writing Of The Collosus' A poem Anthology , a collection of poetry works by Kiraka D Mugatsia.

LETTER TO MY DEAR GOVERNMENT

Dear Government,

Ref: CONCERNING OUR EDUCATION SYSTEM

The recent unrest in some of our high schools is a matter of deep concern. For a place considered the epitome of a functional society, the schools have been cast in bad light following these misdeeds by rogue students, actions that throb with regression. For good cause, it set off those alarm bell in us and brought focus to more pressing issues than watching politicians try to outdo each other in this game of 'Who sucks the hardest'.

I choose to decry the curriculum for being too uptight and stuck up on books. I fault it and roast it on a criticism barbeque for its rigidity, I believe it makes students puppets that mimic their teachers. Indeed, our current education system leaves a lot to be desired and a change should be considered.

To clear the air, I in no way agree with Prof Jacob Kaimenyi on the abolition of Mocks just because a few students expressed a dislike towards it,because seriously students, you fear exams that much? Well good for you rogue student, life after school is there to serve you tea and biscuits in bed, worry not. But seriously, exams are a yardstick to measure progress and the  Mocks are a great mock before the punchline and one that creates the perfect vision for K.C.S.E. Instead, how about we change our curriculum while leaving our significant examinations intact. It's the whole system man that piles misery on our young minds. Instead of confidence, excesses in the system build tension. Pressure isn't bad but an overabundance of it is detrimental.

Each morning, on my way to my 'kibarua', I am usually greeted by the sight of six, seven and eight year olds carrying bags bigger than their parent's radios ( and trust me their parents have big ass radios that can win a sumo match). In there are countless books, each with assignments, all that were done the whole of the previous evening. No doubt the teacher's mean well but man, aren't they stretching it to its seams or what. The brain, much like the body it controls, needs a balance of activity to stop it from jolting to a halt. At a tender age, a formidable front of quality education, playtime and good sleep is needed to develop the hardworking, badass citizen we so covet. But no, as early as six, we have young children, barely ten, dragging large sacks of books to school- see them at five in the evening, with tonnes of more homework to be done all evening long. And the unfortunate part- it has been ossified in our minds that feeding children books like its going out of fashion will lead to development of extra-ordinary minds, which, I suppose was the reason behind practical subjects like Art and Craft AND Home Science being kicked out of the system and left to gather dust on the shelve of abandonment. P. E classes are just Math lessons in false identity.  Herein lies the fault in our thoughts. Sure, our children may be able to pour out the 26 letters of the English alphabet at a moment's notice, but can they be able to use these letters to write well? Will the A in Mathematics be the only thing that we think will make them good engineers? Will we have sportspeople?

All this then comes to our teachers, who lace the semblance of quality in  our education system with doubt. Year in, year out, they demand salary increment (not a bad thing). Yet the training institutions responsible for beating them to shape keep churning them out with the same standards of the 80s (Definitely not a good thing). This is despite the fast growth of and in the modern world. Technology, despite being the ubiquitous phenomenon it is, remains a foreign concept to even our freshest of teacher graduates. Sure, it will be costly to train I.T savvy teachers but it would even more costly to let our students keep getting out of hand. So, now we have  poorly paid teachers delivering outdated information to an exhausted child who only knows that the letter A stands for apple and nothing else and that addition between different numbers is unworkable. How will they grow? Our children are programmed for the exams and not prepared for life. Which shouldn't be the case.  Exams should just be part of the process not a destination. Once in high school, combine the pressure to pass with raging teen hormones and you get a cocktail of disaster. And we wonder why we have university students that can't tell apart a strike and a riot. It's the system man! The system.  This limp curriculum has outlived its golden days. It's a walking dead. Lets call in some change. They might or mightn't work but hey we aren't corpses. We are sentient enough to change.

P.S- The criminals who committed these henious acts of arson should face the law. Nothing justifies their extreme misdeeds

P.S.S- I wish to stamp this letter
                URGENT!

Dearly from,
An educated fool,
Chizzi Freshi

LABOURER OF LIFE

I am the attendant,
Standing ignored at the shelves,
Unthanked at the counter.
The carrier,
Barely looked at at the car park,
Always heavy- laden with load.
Sometimes I get as tip a pat on back
And pocket change if I'm in luck.
The maker,
Always underpaid for things well done,
Forgotten when things done go well,
Only turned to when things fall apart.

I am the sales person,
That sells without reward,
Only kept afloat by meagre wages,
Left hanging at the end of it all,
And yet forced to smile,
At the next annoying asshole.

I am the house help,
Tasked with looking after children,
Whose language,
Is fluent tantrums and juicy tears.
I am patient with them,
Yet still, always overlooked
When they turn out well.
I raise them,
Not mummy, not daddy
As both are usually busy,
Busy being with other people.
On occassions that other person
Turns out to be me,
As I can't say no
To the incentives thereafter.
Left in the shadows,
Only called upon to calm the heat
In their expensive loins.

I am the askari,
Invisible to most at the gate,
Yet visible to all,
When their lives are at stake.

I am the labourer,
I live this life,
Not from want,
But from need.
I don't enjoy it
It sucks!
But to make it suck less,
Please boss

As I seek my pittance

A little respect please.

The Writing Of The Collosus
A poem Anthology.

photo courtesy:
Street Photography

THE CHILD, THE DREAM

The child,
The child of the grass,
Born and raised up to class,
Through waves and tides,
Has it ever been simple?
Run...
Away from the murks of penury,
From the grasps of misery,
How be it, that the child came to be so?
A story told and retold,
A legend forever in the precincts,
In the fringes of current memory,
Spoken of behind closed lips,
Held in the periphery of recollection,
Remembrance,
Wake,
Forever known in death,
As was in life,
Maybe known themore in afterlife,
The child that lived at the edge of the knife,
Does the child have enough to pay you, oh dear dream?
Do you take cheques?
Shillings?
Maybe dollars?
Dreams,
Sleep,
Nightmares,
Through them the child came,
Sweet nightmares,
Terrible dreams,
Dark mornings and bright nights,
Such is the irony of life.
Why nightmares in wake?
Should the child forever remain in comatose
As to be able to live the dream?

Life seen through starry glasses,
Blurry eyes and running noses,
Behind diamond gates,
Marble floors and pearly doors.
Whispers from the further,
As the dream beckons,
'Just let me keep the sleep,
That I may live the dream,'

Sleep child, dream.

Photo: courtesy

SOFAPAKA NEED TO GET THEIR ACT TOGETHER

In recent years, Kenyan Football has been on a rennaicance of sorts and in the thick of the resurgence of the game from the unrelenting murks and bogs of corruption, was Sofapaka F.C.

Birthed in 2002 as a men's team for a fellowship, Sofapaka  proceeded to the nationwide league ( Kenya's second tier football league) in 2004 under the stewardship of current chairman Elly Kalekwa. Their penchant for upsetting odds continued as five years later, Sofapaka found themselves in the Kenya Premier League and boy,did they announce their grand entry or what! In their maiden voyage, the Sofapaka ship set on sail and rattled, erased and rewrote the history books by becoming the first team to claim the KPL title in their first try.

From there on however, the odyssey has been topsy turvy, but their exploits in CAF Confedarationd cup in 2011, one that saw them overcome Egyptian powerhouse Zamalek(in the process breaking Kenyan team's jinx against North African opposition) and steamroll all the way into the play-off put them in their own place in the records of Kenyan football of recent times. Those heights have never been reached, neither have they come close to being reciprocated yet the 5-0 whitewash in the hands of Tusker f.c was a new low for the once illustrious epitome of good management, belief and fortitude.

In their current form (which even bad is too good to quantify), finishing above fifth will be more than a miracle. Infact, it will be a travesty of the hardwork that other teams are putting in, which Sofapaka blatantly didn't put against Tusker. The two penalties they missed just bespoke the disquiet in Sofapaka camp. That the legendary and evergreen John Barasa would be the man to fire the blank in one of the spot kicks killed all hopes and Ezekiel Odera came and buried them by missing the second.

For some time now, the tides have buffetted Sofapaka seriously and never had it been more in-your-face than over the weekend when Tusker made light work of their (Sofapaka's) status and bookmarks in history. Simply put, Sofapaka were outfoxed, outfought and outdone. They were taken in rounds then left inebriated, left on their own to stagger and stumble home in total darkness, with only their hope for a better future illuminating the way.

This loss put their total losses this season, after 19 games, to four, one short of the total losses last season (after 30 games). This season, they have let in 24 goals, three less than the total last season. Last season they scored 49 goals. This season, with 11games to spare the have 24, and their psyche, or total lack of, shows that unless attitude changes in the Batoto Ba Mungu camp, even hitting 40 goals will be more a result of fate clumsily stumbling about than of the team's and their coach's deliberate effort. Every good record from last season risks being left seated upon its anus come the end of the season.

Coach, Sam Timbe, a reputable coach in the region, must have been so ashamed of the defeat that he couldn't resist the urge to resort to folly excuses and pseudo-reasons. 
Losing players should never be a reason.  Gor Mahia, so far unbeaten this season, lost their top scorer for two years running, Dan Sserunkuma yet still score plenty and win plenty as if its their middle name.  Its hard being a professional sportsperson, I get it, but the weekends no-show from Sofapaka was discouraging.

Sofapaka is a storied team whose legacy shouldn't die.
They should carry on with their scabbed wounds and march with them forward until the storm subsides. Losing 5-0 is disappointing but losing 5-0 following such a dispirited and detached effort could portend tougher storms for Sofapaka to weather in coming weeks, months and, God forbid, seasons. So they should take it in their strides and march forward while showing some resilience.
 
Photo:courtesy Standard

SALUTE TO FALLEN HEROES

To my fallen uncle...

An uncle but forever a grandfather,
And in forever you have been thus,
In you we found the old man we were privileged not to have.
While the time spent together might be scant,
The impact was lasting, hitting harder than a storm buffetting the wall of a lone house,
Memories not to be erased by the passage of time.

Even after death snuck up on you like a thief in the night,
Remember that we are here to keep and cherish,
The good the bad and in between memories we shared,
The history and legacy we wrote without our knowledge.

From the tasty mandazis at Christmas dawn,
To the delicious drumsticks on New Year's eve,
From the loud but comically relieving inebriated rants,
To the long unexpected wave goodbye,
We love you.

In the life you live hereafter,
May the peace you cherished be found wherever you are, just as you lived.

Until we meet again,Uncle Ambuzi,rest in peace.

MAY GOD SEE YOU IN THE AFTERLIFE SAFE AND SOUND

Words are barely enough to quantify
The magitude of sorrow inflicted by the fallen lights of a glittering life.

We knew no better comedy than you Mr Ojwang'
And we knew not of our happy times until you left our screens.

For our shortcomings and negligence, please forgive us.
Pardon the shortfall of our amnesiac memories but please take this epitaph as a deep appreciation of your incomparable humour and longevity.

Where you have set foot,
Whatever trail you have blazed,
The glitter that you have left flickering behind you,
Will forever be etched in the fond folds of our memories.

From now henceforth,twelfth of July will forever hold a reminder to us and posterity,
A reminder that in a country marred by juvenile political atmosphere and a morass of corruption,there once walked a man of integrity.

A great man to whom humour was a calling,acting a definition of.

A day that will forever remind us of when you went, hereafter, to explore the unknown lands of the afterlife.

To a father
To a husband
To a breadwinner
A provider
To a brother
A friend
To a patriot
A leader
To a legend
An Icon
To an actor
A humourist
To a national phenomenon
A collosus

Until we meet again, Mzee Benson Wanjau, rest in peace.

 1937-2015
(78 years old)