Upya Fresh

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

  Hello Molly. Hope you are good. I am thinking of Valentine, of Men’s Conference… seems distant now, Christmas holidays. Anyway, this week, I had the flu… plenty medication, lots of sleep (daytime), restless sleep at night… FYI: I read somewhere that most people die at night between 3am-4am (the devil’s hour) when the body is at its weakest… suffice to say, I listened to AFCON through the night, plus some music, past this hour. Anyway, life is never that serious, so, here goes some light stuff:   Tomato Sauce Childhood sunny, play rainy A tight brother, poverty Him - uncle to the family Our meals souped and soggy. Reserved for Christmas – Chapati Like the Americans   - their Turkey Chips, soda, chicken – paradise Would our bellies then be at peace. In our dreaming, a turn and a toss Our imaginations at a loss We then knew Money the Boss When we dreamt of tomato sauce. In my room alone, out of luck Wife ran away, for I am out of work Full circle, supper - soup an

  On soft mornings, he tells Happy, is what he sells The sun on his skin grazes Love on her face, he glazes. With a bright early attitude Long, he flips her to latitude She soars, on a bit of altitude Loved she floats, notes off a flute. The earth, the sky, the water – witness This love strong and tender, firm the fitness All forgot but song, this bit of eternity Once upon a time, told will be this story.

  Sharp the pain A clutching of the heart Betrayed by brother Cain Death found him not alert. The colours in the sound Soft – whispered – loud Spell cast – love bound Shadows long – dark the cloud Lost again, this longing that was found. Let’s describe red Scarlet, when she bled Hounded, she fled An early grave led Residual passions, her bed. The colours in the sound Soft – whispered – loud Spell cast – love bound Shadows long – dark the cloud Lost again, this longing that was found. Sky, promising this blue A bit shaded, saddens the flu In silence, speaks what’s true Plan they, the cold to stew. The colours in the sound Soft – whispered – loud Spell cast – love bound Shadows long – dark the cloud Lost again, this longing that was found. Mangoes dripping a sweet yellow Slow afternoons, lovers mellow Lips on the phone, a soft hello Tis summer, harps the swallow. The colours in the sound Soft – whispered – loud Spell cast – love bound Shadows lon

  Hi Molly. Hope you are good. So, hurting from your Sunday kind of lovin’, I went to church. You remember how Sunday afternoons were special? Me and you finding exciting places to see, savouring fresh tastes that were newly discovered culinary delights… walking down the aisle that was the jacaranda leaves in autumn as the sun danced on your cheeks and lips… So, my body was in church, but my spirit was elsewhere… Sunday afternoons as your loose blouse conspired with the whispering wind as we hiked the Ngong Hills, the teasing peek of ebony skin underneath… I know, I know. I shouldn’t be thinking these things in the holy precincts of church. Anyway, it’s like the preacher hear my unholy thoughts. His sermonin’, the book of Samuel… How the Lord called Samuel three times, with him waking up Eli. At last, Eli asked him to answer. This preacher, lovely stories, he tells. Asks us married folks if we planned them babies or they just happened. Samuel and his parents, he tells. They had t

Tugege Politics: Erasing My People Kamau, my once loving brother Kamau, he has become house Negro I, field Negro, to him turned a Botha Like Peter, his people, sees them a bother. Kamau, my once confident brother Irritates him, mine prosperity that glows A seed planted, it’s nature is to grow This new found hate of the self, nurtured. Kamau, my once proud brother Has been taught, his people to loathe Vehement, it is so, you suspect some oath Lies peddled daily, has become his tutor. Only that, this hate in his heart, ain’t his The Master’s venom, through him, the hiss Blinded, Kamau can’s see, this to be a death kiss They got a hold on him, permanent the lease. Still, I understand him, lost as he is Lies dash around the world, truth stills History, that eternal teacher of old Its lessons - poignant, solid, bold. To conquer a man, alienate him from his culture Rubbish his traditions, over him, you’ll have power His blood-brother, you bribe into a collaborato