Then – a poem on business rejection

Then…

We were the hopeful
The faithful
Delirious and desirous
We studied and restudied
Business plan and pitch decks.

Our dreams were grand
Our byes were ready
We were divorcing poverty
Notaries – we befriended
We hand around the house
For the almighty WhatsApp call
Our prayers were to be answered…

But…

The Investor works in mysterious ways
Yes, no, some put on the waiting list
Dreams dashed, others answered
Sunny days for some
Lonely nights for others.

So fragile, our hearts became
So frail, our minds were
For the nos were resounding
Shaking us to our cores
Disrupting our lives
Like Covid, unseen in their comings.

But…

This too shall pass
Tomorrow, the sun will caress
our smiles, once more.

We are healed now.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZfYgAXkhUY

Comments

My-Once Molly (Praying for a Rainbow),

Dear Molly, I hope you are ok and are keeping safe in these floods. As for me, I am heartbroken. I am in pain. My mind, my body, my spirit aches. I am numb with grief. As is the nation of Kenya. The picture just won’t get out of our minds – the father, trudging stoically, his dead, muddy son slung over his shoulder. It’s a devastating image… the screams, elsewhere, as a boat capsizes, the swollen river swallows a lorry… Izrael has visited the land. Dear Molly, a while back, the nation faced drought. Then, images of dead livestock, emaciated men, women and children, parched, cracked earth, haunted our screens. Elsewhere where there was a glut in food production, the farmers cried for their fellow starving countrymen. They demanded for lorries to traverse the rutted roads and take the produce to their brethren… collectively, we prayed for rain. Dear Molly... will we ever catch a break as Kenya? The Covid-19 pandemic that paralysed lives and livelihoods in 2020 as we recovered from th...

My-Once Molly (thinking of Valentine),

My-Once Molly… the girl who broke my heart, the one who got away, the one who promised me the world and left me to survive alone – typical of our Kenyan politicians… I hope you are good. Now, as February – the month of love – lurks about, I find myself thinking of you. Thing is, my dear Molly, I have new neighbours. A young couple, very much in love like we once were. The young lady, her name is Val… maybe Valentine… I don’t know. This Val, a spirited girl with rich, deep, heaving laughter - almost like yours. Her smile… ah! You should see it. The shine of the morning sun distilling the dew upon cool meadows… I am totally in love with her. Alarmingly, she teases me much and I am getting ideas… Molly, dear, wherever you are, please pray for me… the temptation is too much. If you don’t, the frail creature that I am may fall. This, despite having numerous songs in my playlist to warn me. Invariably, Majengo – that infamous locale – does a dishonourable appearance in most of them… ‘Maj...

Lessons from Burundi: Comedy Season

Where I come from, we have an influx of foreigners. Already, we have an area by the name Congo, named so because it had an influx of Bakongo refugees, fleeing the war in their country… Congo, Zaire and back to DRC… The Democratic Republic of Congo. Very soon, we might have areas such as Sudan (South), Burundi, Rwanda, etc., etc. Fun fact, Dynamiq, He of ‘Remember them Days in Nairobi’ used to be our neighbour in Coast. Anyway, these Burundian have taken over the groundnut and the coffee (and KDF – the gluten stomach holder) hawking business. On their part, their Rwandan neighbours have taken over the phone accessories’ hawking business, almost as if by some tacit agreement – bilateral trade agreement or something. The Burundians, night and day, they trade, huge flasks of ready coffee, the mwananchi version, and buckets of said body-building, economic-miracle-worker, KDF in tow. Ever been served by a Ugandan lady? Down on their knees, submissive service that will have you selling your ...

Upya Fresh

Search This Blog