I LOVE THE FACT THAT OBAMA IS NOTHING MORE THAN A WANDERING KENYAN SPERM

Stop throwing tantrums about the whole principle of reduction that my title uses and listen to me. Don't you like it when you say to a dog, "sit" and it does? Now you are sitting!

Today is Barack Obama's inauguration as the 44th president of the USA (before this, I did not even know that G.W Bush was the 43rd)...Now I know. If anything has propelled one country in Eastern Africa called Kenya to fame, besides, wildlife, tribalism and a WWF champion one Lucy Kibaki aka madam first lady, that thing is Obama. Never in recent times has anyone's private life been so public like that of Barack Obama. Never has the whole world looked at one person and dissected his life like surgeons would do to a body in a theatre. Now we all know Obama's kenyan granny is called Sarah, we even know the date that his Hawaiian granny died, we know he quit smoking recently...we know just too much about Barack Obama.

Most Kenyans now know more about Obama than they know about one Mwai Kibaki besides his golf expertise. I hear Kibaki still says that when he grows up he wants to be Tiger Woods. Kenyans all over the world are just overwhelmed by Obama's accending to the US presidency. When the little boy (the son of our soil...dont you wish Wahome Mutahi, alias Whispers, was still alive to write about this?)became Illinois senator, Kenya Breweries Limited (now EABL) brought us a cheap beer brand called Senator and we all drank to Barack Obama.

Definitely, EABL is not going to give us a beer called President because the title conjurs up in the Kenyan mind an image of a person worlds apart from Obama. In fact this man is so different and ugly that he decided not to have his face put on the Kenyan legal tender (notes and coins). Hey, that is besides my point...Lucy and Mary know better, it is the beauty and beholder thing.

Today, thousands of Kenyans are in Washington D.C (I still dont understand why there is Washington D.C and Washington the state) for Obama's inauguration. Breasts and bums brushing and shakes and hugs passing all in jubilation for Obama. Introductions have been extended from "My name is Kimani wa Mugo" to " I am Kimani wa Mugo from Kenya". Suddenly, it is a prestigious thing to be Kenyan. But hey, I can't believe that in the midst of all this, I am glad that Barack Obama snr left his family in the USA at such a tender age.

I am sure you are now thinking of me as that same sadist blogger with no new year resolutions.

Whether we admit it or not, to me, Obama is a wandering Kenyan sperm that happened to be caught up in a favourable 'uteral' space. Hey, no need reminding Kenyans that Obama is actually American because they know this it's only that Kenyans love their parties from funerals to child naming ceremonies.

Well, thank God Obama Snr never brought little Obama to Kenya as a young Kenyan. Thank goodness Obama is not a Kenyan citizen but an American. If Barack Obama was truly Kenyan:

1. He would be dead by now because Kenya is allergic to good politicians (but I aint sure he would be as good).
2. He would be guilty of tax evading because he would definitely be the member of parliament for Kogelo, that is if he survives political assassination also called disappearance.
3. He would be caught up in the Luo/kikuyu thing. Of course he would be just another Luo looking for fame.
4. He would be shutting down motions on legalizing prostitution and ending up at Koinange Street at night.
5. He would have to put up with all the crap America says and does to the rest of the world.
6. He would be in millions of pictures on their way to the West asking for Aid for starving Kenyan children and never getting a thing.
7. He would be one of the thousands of former Nyayo House detainees and possibly wouldn't get the two beautiful daughters.
8. Kenyans would have had less public holidays last year
9. That journalist would not have thrown a shoe at Bush because he would not have anyone to compare Bush with.
10. I would not be writing this blog.


I am going to write a letter to Barack Obama Snr, to thank him for the favour he did the world by not bringing up Obama jnr as a Kenyan. As you drink and party to Obama's inauguration, please remember this great sperm donor, one Barack Obama snr and pour libation!!

Lol, some things just cant be captured in a poem...well, the more reason I aint a poet.

I Died Last Night

sometimes when i close my eyes
i see better than when I open them
sometimes I want to keep my eyes closed
to see all i cannot see with them open

many times when i close my eyes
i see just circles, big layered circles
other times once my eyes close
i see drops and dots and doodles

Several times once i close my eyes
i want to keep them closed
to make sense of all i see
to read those circles and dots

last night i did not want them closed
i wanted to stay awake if only to have them open
not to see the bigger dots called circles
to avoid those smaller circles, those dots

those dots and circles i know
are a variation of the same thing
different sizes of my life challenges
and did not wish to see them last night

thank heavens i died the whole night
thank god i closed my eyes not
pretty cool i opened them neither
because i died, died an awesome death

i died for hours last night
before I realized my might
to just win the fierce fight
and not prove enemies right.

i have died many times before
but last night I died a death
a death never before died
a larger slice of death it was

An Attempt to Love

No matter how many times we fought
No matter how many quarrels we had
No matter how much we harboured hate
No matter how much we disagreed
We had a wonderful time together

Now that you are going away my love
Now that you won't be here my dear
Now that you leave me behind dear heart
Now that at night we shall no longer hold
In my heart you shall be missed but tightly held

Memories your homecoming shall bring
Memories of a father no longer there
Memories of a son turned dear hubby
Memories of a brother now darling daddy
But memories filled with gratitude

To the father above I pray dear Sweetheart
To the father above I commit you my Love
To the father above I look upon
To the father above this is what I say
"Lord give to them the strength to soldier on"

Until that time my darling
Until that day that I knoweth not
Until that moment we shall hold
Until that minute comes my Sweery
Patiently shall I wait, for those slices of sweetness.

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

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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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.....