Friday, November 21, 2008

my name is...

desperate for in-laws
we left armenia
only to trample on laws
in our new homw

god-sent saviours we were
and to your land we came
lending money to them
them who sold us out

like televivon series we were
gave the soaps a break
took up the centre stage
all entertained for no pay

you all did brand me
and my brother too
you believed me not
so pure lies i told

i told you my name
but what did you say?
i used that for fame
that name was russian

at the coast i hear
i am mariakani
and my brother they tell me
you call sarakasi

still want our names
well...my name is...
ask the commission of inquiry
yes...that commisison of inquiry

Thursday, November 20, 2008

mrs. malaprop

today i met her
our lady of 'isms'
noticed her by far
before she to me spoke

from confession she said she came
but sweets and cakes she had
it was the confectionery she meant
oh! lady malaprop.

seats she saw by the roadside
beautiful sofas they make
of velvex she told me
oops! of velvet my lady.

a large crowd stood by
arguing and bargaining
looked like a religious congratulation
but a congregation it seemed.

to me mrs malaprop spoke
of politicians diverting
from parties one after another
yes, defecting she meant

thought the pick-up in her mouth
was the actual problem
did i say pick-up?
oh! our lady calls the toothpick.

i call it as they called it; malapropism
what our lady does
with words to words
our 'learned' lady, mrs malaprop.


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Monday, November 10, 2008

Thula Thula Mama Africa...Sleep Well Miriam Makeba

I am sure this is a nightmare. Someone please wake me up.

Miriam Makeba. Your voice is so clear in my head right now. Last night for some reason, I couldnt resist listening to the unison of your voice with that of Harry Belafonte! What else could soothe the heart thus?

How beautifully you made those Xhosa clicks, mum. For some reason I wished i was Xhosa...even for a day.

You are dead.

How often you sang, "Thula, thula mama thula thula mama thula thula mama thula"! Oh how often I wanted to sing "Qongqothwane" but couldnt! Even if I did, it wouldnt be the same thing that you so rhythmically did, mama.

I admired you in Sarafina.The strength, the optimism, the resilience...everything that you have always been.

But that must have been a beautiful death mama. Wasn't it? On stage? Wow...many ways of dying, indeed.

A good looking corpse that must be.

Fare thee well the hero of Africa. Sleep, thula...lala salama as your voice goes on...malaika nakupenda malaika...nami nifanyaje kijana mwenzio nashindwa na mali sina weee.....

Friday, November 7, 2008

Please Claim Your Piece of Obama Before He is Finished!

Obama may be an American citizen but we all seem to be making claims on a piece of him. In fact, i just realized that Obama's cousin's brother-in-law once lived in the city council house that my mother's first cousin's friend's step sister-in-law once lived. So, what on earth would stop me from being Obama's relative in addition to my added advantage of being Kenyan? By the way, I am changing the name of my blog to something closer to Obama, no matter how remote!

I found an article in the East African Standard interesting.

I am posting it here albeit with no permission but I know they can't sue me because the Obama fever is something that me and them share!

Enjoy and please claim your piece of this 'new global cake'.


Global Obama inspires the world

Updated 11 hr(s) 56 min(s) ago

By Joseph Murimi and Reuters

Brazilians of mixed descent say he looks like them and called him Mulato.

Japanese have a city called Obama and for that they rallied behind him although his win may not benefit them directly.

Americans own him because his mother, Ann Dunhum, was a white American from Kansas.
His maternal lineage has been traced to Great Britain, specifically Scotland, making Europeans also stake a claim on US President-elect Barack Obama.

A genealogist disclosed, last year, that Obama was a descendant of the monarch who ruled Scotland from 1165 to 1214.

Muslims claim he is one of them, but Obama maintains he is a Christian.

A leading television channel in the Middle East kept announcing that Obama’s grandmother and most of his family members in Kenya were Muslims.

His late maternal grandmother and half sister live in Hawaii.

Biggest claim
However, it is Kenyans who have laid the biggest and most elaborate claim to the first black US President.

His father Barack Obama Snr was born in Kogelo, Siaya District, Nyanza Province.
His late father’s community say Obama is a Luo by blood and therefore, their son.
For that they broke into wild celebrations when he was declared President-elect of the most powerful nation.

Holiday

President Kibaki declared yesterday a public holiday to allow Kenyans celebrate the historic achievements of their "son".

He addressed the nation live on national television exalting the virtues of Obama and not forgetting to say he had "Kenyan roots’’.
Early this year, Prime Minister Raila Odinga claimed Obama ‘was’ his cousin, according to Luo traditions.

From Africa, Asia, America to Europe to the Muslims and Christians, everybody claims a piece of Obama.
The US President-elect connects with the whole world and can be referred to as the global President.

Like Americans are wont to say, everybody wanted a piece of the Obama pie.

Led in polls
Every opinion poll from the leading pollsters Gallup to Cable News Network, indicated Obama was leading his Republican rival John McCain.
And when the final results began trickling in showing Obama in the lead, the world broke into celebrations.

With a global appeal, cutting across religious and racial biases, Obama was tipped for a landslide win.

Meanwhile, Japan’s opposition hopes it can emulate US President-elect Barack Obama’s victory with his promise of change.
Many Japanese voters, however, doubt their politicians have what it takes. Polls show many are weary of the conservative Liberal Democratic Party, in power for the past 53 years.

Huge task
But the opposition Democrats, who share a name with Obama’s party, face an uphill battle to prove they can do a better job.
"Japan doesn’t have young and charismatic politicians like Obama who are calling for reform," said 38-year-old Keishi Matsuoka.
Flagging support for Prime Minister Taro Aso and the LDP have not translated into a boost for the Democrats.
"If we had an election, I think most Japanese would be in a quandary," Matsuoka said.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

I Tire of Crying Whenever Obama Speaks

Perhaps in my later life I might consider being a professional mourner!

For some reason, I love funerals. Not death but funerals. I love the performance and the ritual that defines these ordinary yet so extra ordinary dramas. Sometime back I was in my small village somewhere in Mwingi (one of those places in Kenya where there exists only a single season throughout the year; summer or dry season if you like). I was in this village some time in the later half of the 1990s or thereabouts. My aunt had recently come from Canada and she was into this business of catching up with the hard life of Ukambaniland. For some reason I was always excited whenever I had to accompany her as we got into the deepest of the deep village zones.

Ja, I was talking about the ecstasy of attending funerals. I am being sadistic again, right? Hey, hold up...I don't rejoice in death just the burying part.

So, I attended this funeral in the village which sent my auntie and I cracking. Well, it was one of those 'celebration of life' funerals because the deceased was a rather old woman. Life is a crazy journey if you ask me. It is amazing how much the human species takes to routine."We Inyaa Nzangi ai susu nukwiie nanduia we?"...Well, those who don't come from the land of the Akambodia, a woman from the crowd got up at this old woman's funeral and said "Nzangi's mum you know granny is dead and you aint crying?". When 'Nzangi's mum' heard this she got up from the midst of the crowd and sent a defeaning scream.

This was the beginning of my admiration for professional mourners. This is what I think I should be... A professional mourner for hire especially when the 'not so good people' die and no one is willing to mourn them...good riddance after all.

I have been following the US presidential election campaigns quite closely. I have been watching in a rather biased way though. I have been watching more of Obama than McCain (I am thinking of stopping eating that McCain vegetable brand).

You see, I am not American (by now you know). In fact, I have never gone to the US. I know American states because I read novels and watch Hollywood movies. I only know the US from the weather man. What I don't understand is why this US White House has suddenly become a personal experience for me. I am so tense about the election yet I will still eat my ugali and kachumbari whether its McCain or Obama in the White House. I am getting annoyed with myself for getting emotional about this whole purely American thingy. Why do I cry when I watch Obama promise tax reduction for Americans? Obama is not worried about the fact that R 200 at Pick n Pay cant feed me for two days yet I feel like he is talking about me anytime he talks about Americans trying to make ends meet. What is so wrong with me to put my hope in Obama.

I tire of crying whenever Obama speaks.

I cried in 2003 when Kibaki became a reality to Kenya. I think I just have this habit of crying whenever joy grips my ego. I cry when I see how far my granny has gone with living her bonus years. I cry to think of how much my mum has sacrificed for my sister and I. I cry many times in a day.

Atleast these many times I cry, I understand why. I know I cried when Kibaki won the 2002 elections because I was stupid enough to imagine he would be far much better than Moi. I cry whenever I talk about my granny because she has been my mum, dad, sister and brother in my life. I cry when my mum says 'I love you' because she understands how disappointing men can be.

But why do I cry when Obama speaks?

Hold on...It's got nothing to do with my misguided 'other' who thinks Obama is Kenyan just because of his Dholuo name or because a sperm from Kogelo happened to be present in his making. No.

I tire of crying whenever Obama speaks and that's why I am considering being a professional mourner since I can cry for virtually anything. Call on me for professional services.

Still this Obama thing beats me!