24 October 2013


Ever reached a state in life where you cry and laugh at the same time? Tears of joy are on your cheeks but the pain in your heart is just so much? As I write this I’m an emotional wreck…wreck because I am torn between patriotism and something else. (Forgive me Lord, for I don’t know what I am doing).
 A few days ago, Westage was all we Kenyans could speak about. Some terrorists (suspected or otherwise) came and for a few days, our lives (excluding mine) were at a standstill. Then a great inventor, who I know not, added a new phrase to our list of national phrases. We all know about the “We Are One” concept, or is it the newly acquired synonym to patriotism. Well, I was recently involved in a heated discussion (more of a debate) about this new concept.

I remember so well those four days when our dear ones were held hostage, woooooooh Kenyans became really patriotic. From the social to the antisocial (yeah, I call it as it is; antisocial is the face-book, sister twitter and cousin whats-app) media, Kenyans really poured their hearts out. Wait! Before you judge me, I was also in the group. Oh how we changed or names on (anti) social media, how we changed our profile pictures and cover pages. You should have seen the number of text messages I received from “concerned patriots” asking me to say a prayer for those affected. And pray I did.
Oh, did you see how even network providers provided accounts for people to send money free of charge, and even some public service vehicles ferried people for free, how Kenyans gave blood donations that all blood banks are now full; wow. My favorite was seeing members of parliament, senate (name them all) came out from their hide-outs to give blood, contribute money and (annoyingly) visit west gate to “assess” the damage. I commend us Kenyans. Anyone who did not do any of the above listed was viewed as un-patriotic and inhumane.
Then it hit me. What happened during the Eastleigh bombing, the Baragoi massacre, the Sachangwan fire, slum fires, when hundreds of people die in attacks, were we “two” then? Didn’t such things also happen to our loved ones? The cases were different, you may argue out. Could it be that “We are One” only when “bad” things happen to the rich? Who was there to donate cash and blood when these other disasters happened, were we not one even then? 

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Kenyans or the rich. I am just saying that our oneness should cut across social classes.
So, till the next tragedy that affects the crème de crème of our nation, “We Are One”; or are we?

20 October 2013


Happy Mashujaa Day!! Well we all know today is Mashujaa day (in Kenya that is). Allow me to shed some light on this for those of us not in Kenya or Kenyans. Mashujaa day is the 20th of October, a day that Kenya takes time to celebrate the heroes who fought for the independence of our nation. Mashujaa is a Swahili word that means hero. It was previously known by the name “Kenyatta Day”, named after the founding father of our dear nation Kenya. Mashujaa day is the day we celebrate not only the heroes who fought indefatigably for the independence of our nation, but also the heroes in our lives.

Having said that, this is a special tribute to a hero in my life (what? Wipe that smirk off you face, I have the freedom to! If you didn’t write your hero a post; well, it’s your loss!). Born a few years before me, he is the one man I have looked up to all my life. As a toddler, I watched him play with other children with envy. I mean, before I could walk, he would leave me in the house in the morning and occasionally come back to eat with some sweat on his fore head. He made me want to go out and play so much that my parents claim that I started walking and talking so early, thanks to him. I can also boast that the few soccer skills I know, he taught me. Yes, he taught me to play with my left foot, which we all know not many people can do, which helped me play for the teams I have played for, as a left wing striker. (Yeah, I’m bragging now).  He trained me those days when I used to do track events in primary school. He is still an athlete, in a way, and plays soccer for a local team.

 Ever since I can remember, he got prizes every prize giving ceremony for his hard work and sharp brain. I remember in primary school, they would award pupils who did excellently with chocolates after each exam; and guess who would have more than twenty bars, and guess who he would give half of them to? (If you answered “you”, as in, me; you are right!!). Watching him being awarded at every prize giving, from primary school to high school inspired me to work really hard to (if not for the goodies) make it in life. This, he carries on till today in university. He is the only man I know who has been scoring high academically since nursery school. (And he doesn’t study that much; darn!!) He inspires me do my best when it comes to books.

He is the first person who introduced me to poetry, art and music (he does not know this). Being a poet, artist (sketch artist and painter) and designer, he keeps encouraging me to explore art and occasionally asks me to accompany him to various art, music and poetry events (whoop whoop).  He speaks and writes English so good that even I at times cannot understand; I have to constantly consult my dictionary (those who know him can bear me witness) if asked, I would say Patrick Lumumba tries to impersonate him. 

He has always been by my side. He has the strongest spirit I know of, despite all he has been through (which is a lot). His life is an attestation that hard work pays. He is the only person who has been on and by my side since I came to be, my greatest fan. He has never missed any of my performances.  He inspires me to be me in so many ways. I have always looked up to him and I turned out good (if we don’t count my retarded nature). He is my Hero. He is my brother, Murimi Kareithi (or as his peers also know him “Croemaestrus”). The pioneer of the Kareithi Empire; the first of Kareithi’s offspring and the duke of Kareithi’s Monarchy. This is a tribute to my brother. You are my Hero.

As he keeps saying to me, so do I say to you on this day;  “Think, and let live; or die doubting” (don’t ask me what that means).

Happy Mashujaa Day!! Celebrate your hero today!!

7 October 2013

I STOPPED WRITING by @wanjiru_wanjiku

I stopped writing
when you left my world,
For how could i write,with my world

I stopped writing,
when on your face fell a frown,
For what would my words play with,if not
your smile....

I stopped writing
when your back is all I saw,
for what would I scribble,when the radiance
of your face was gone.

I stopped writing
when all I saw was anger in your eyes,
for how could I write,with guilt saw-milling
my heart.

I stopped writing
when there was no longer you in us,
for even though my hand held the pen,my
heart wrote the words

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