ITS JuST SeX

“I stole one last glance at my cracked mirror. “Black never dissapoints” ,I smiled and walked towards the door.  
I need a drink. I need to forget. I need a man. That’s what I needed that night. I walked back towards my mirror, removed the clip that held my hair up and let it fall .I roughed it up ,I need the rogue look.

For the first time, I was going out without my girls. “Go girl, go ..go girl” ,singing that silly song that I just made up. It was buppy and the uber driver looked creepy. I mean who wears shades at night. 

”Niweke hapo club Edge”

” it will be 650″..

“I should have taken a mat that would have just cost me 50ksh.this is rediculuos” I said as I stood right at the club entrance pulling my dress down.

It was tight perfect showing of my valleyd hips with its slit right up above my thighs. With the back of the dress completely bare…naked. the silver heels made the dress bold and my mate gang girl plum lipstick that possibly states “kiss me”.

“Aaam niletee…” 

But before I could even say anything, this masculine waiter brings a bottle of wine.

“Its from the gentleman ” he said as he pointed at a man behind me.

He was old……ugly if am being honest.  I noded with a smile. A gesture that said ‘thanks’.

“Well as long as he doesn’t approach me” I said with a laughter.

It was 3am, my table was filled with drinks that I had barely opened and in the arms of a man that I barely remembered his name. 

“I need to go home” I said as I grabbed my coat. 

“Wait ” he said as he stood up and got hold of me before I fell. I was so drunk. He walked me out , asked where I was heading …

“Come on lemm give you a ride”

“I could feel his tongue on mine. My lips were wet. His hands were now on my thighs. right when his hands slid beneath my dress, his phone rang. He  pulled me back, got hold of it . It was a picture of a woman and a child , the callers name ” wifey” 

He got out of the car, to pick the call….

“Sirudi leo am with friends …” I heard .

“Wtf you have a wife! Nitatake a cub” It won’t open. 

“I want to leave ! Fungua mlango!” I screamed.

“Come on its just sex” , he said as he smiled

” tulia,…tulia!” Both his hand holding on mine tight.he was strong .
 I stopped resisting when his hand slid beneath my pants. His right hand on my mouth. I was tired of the struggle drunk and weak. He rolled down the car sit very low ,pulled my dress up as he climbed ontop me. I poked his eyes with my hands and bit his ear so damn hard. 

Crawled out through the back sit window bare foot .I never cared of the eyes that stared at me with no shoes and my torn dress. ”

I took the 1st taxi I came on site with.

“Its just sex” …..I said to myself at a low voice .and laughed as  tears floaded my eyes.

I never felt beautiful and a disgust in one night.”

I stared at Diana ” siamini ulitorekea  kwa window” , we both burst into laughter.

Crazy friend , a crazy night she had .I thought as I watched her fall asleep.

I WENT ON A DATE

‘you look beautiful ‘ I couldn’t tell if he was genuine or just trying to be a gentleman.
‘damn it! ‘ trying to pull down my dress. So damn irritating it keeps creeping up my thighs each step I take. What could be worse at this moment than having my thighs up for a showcase.

‘Beautiful ‘ he said as he pulled a chair for me. gave a smile. This time I could tell he was a gentleman.

He lost me in his stare. Yeah I blushed and covered it up with a laughter. This is not me. My eyes wondered around wowed by the view. I thought we were going to have a simple dinner at some restaurant or whatever hotel that am used to ordering one course meal. But oh no. Am in some expensive hotel. He reserved a table for Christ sake. Staring at my name on a small curved rectangle wood on the table. faking a smile I could feel my nerves crawling out of my skin. Keep turning trying to figure out how to sit, how am I supposed to behave… I can’t even use a fork without giving it up within the first trial just to use my hands for the final touches.

‘are you okey dear’  he asked.
‘aam okey ‘. This is so embarrassing. Was I that obvious?
‘That dress looks good on you’
‘thanks’ .
Then silence crawls back in. Staring at the small bucket full of ice that the bottle of wine is resting on. When I looked up my eyes got locked in his.

‘missed you, it’s been long time but you haven’t changed its like years never passed by. ‘
I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or him slapping me on the face that I haven’t achieved much.
‘well you have changed. Could barely recognize you”
This conversation is boring. He started blubbering about his business the money he makes, how he gets to travel a lot blah blah.

I got hold of the menu and my heart almost had a virtual attack. This food cost is enough to buy me some f**king shoes.  So I look up at him, and his still busy bragging about his job. I smile at him and laugh when he does assuming what he said was funny and I was meant to laugh.

‘what have you been up to for the past few years? ‘
He asked. Surprised did he just acknowledge the fact he has company.
With his blubbering almost thought he had a memory loss and forget this was a date!

‘Nothing much actually. You seem to have a lot of adventure going on lately. ‘ I said faking a smile.

‘Oooh you have no idea. Last weekend I was… ‘
There he goes again. Back to his job bragging blubbering session of his.

I sat back enjoying my desert. The cake was delicious. But I was irritated with the fact I had to use a fork. I couldn’t take it. I grabbed napkin got hold of the remaining peace and enjoyed it and gulped the remaining wine in my glass.

‘Mike’ I called out.
‘Mike… ‘ doesnt his cheeks get tired of talking that much!

Don’t even ask what happened after. Just picture me:

Standing at my door, shoes in my hands all soaking wet. Staring at the huge lock on my door.
‘sijalipa rent tena! ‘ before I could burst into screams

‘Hey kiasi you standing on my door. ‘ I looked up, I was on the wrong floor. Ran up stairs to my door. Relieved to find it with just my lock.

Rotten Times of Change

Feb 6 2016, a 40yr old mother ,Mrs Mbereko decided to marry her own son Mr Farai Mbereko.she claimed to be in love with her son and as if that wasn’t too much news to handle…she was carrying her sons baby. She was already 6month pregnant and she stunned people when she claimed the affair had began 3yrs ago.
In 2008, a mother took her daughter and husband to court for allegedly having thrown her out of her house . both her husband daughter were living as husband and wife and were not ashamed to admit.

Hard work isn’t a virtue that many people want to keep Anymore or should I say ladies. 

Times have a changed.from an almost perfect world to a rotten world. Where marriage isn’t sacred. A child is filled with deciet.nothing seems to be pure .

Young ladies don’t want to think, its too much work ,they say. Why struggle when her body can pay? Breaking  people marriage..

Lady’s tend to forget whats already handed to them and tend to want more without breaking a sweat. Thinking that life is all about playing the game right. ‘ as long as you don’t get caught’. life is all about the events we create the right and wrong and they have consequences. 

What happened to inspiring women? Why inspire them when they want shortcuts?. My point is, work! Work! work! Like everybody else does. Put your life together. Build a life that you will be proud to say you built. Instead of hanging onto a man twice your age just because he pays your builds and you can’t even utter his name cause you feel ashamed.

I love poetry ….

BECKY WITH THE GOOD HAIR

I begged….on my knees for him to stay.
He never looked back ,
He still walked a way.
He drove away…

I read your letter
That you said I deserved better…
Your words were restless
As your art of deceit had grown careless…
I tore it in twos
The pieces drafted on my toes.

They call me Becky with the good hair
I put on silk
My feet almost never seek dirt.
I live five block from your street.
With a French chauffer
Call me Becky with good hair.

I lied when I said I was fine
all I owe is an empty dine…
And this guilt!
that you made me built!
You left me with bills to pay
We were to find a way!
But you!..you
You chose to walk away!

Mary is ten…peter is five
Mrs Bouston….
they live right across the street.

I thought I had one….a reason
for this treason
If only you stayed my dreams wouldn’t be at fault
And this guilt!

You can tell his age from a mile
As he corrupts his yearn with a smile.
I wonder if he has guilt

But he calls me Becky with the good hair
He has no guilt like I do.

CRAZY FORTUNE OF BEING FREE

The point in your life when you turn 22 and the best dream you have is when you finally get to move out from your parents house because you claim you want to be ‘free’. Then you finally get a job, that’s gets you excited and you finally get your own place. Staffed square apartment.
The first month ends ,you finally receive your salary, you pay rent ..on weekends you go out with friends party all night after all you gat your own place no one to question you. Weekends ends get back to your routine..wake up at 7am get home at 8pm. It goes on and on. You spend your money on shoes..clothes..party until one morning you realize you got no money left and you need to get to work..its end month, you need to pay rent, you tired of going to work ,you feel its not worth it any more because your needs increased and the salary you were excited about now its nothing…you now get to worry. Stressed: you get loans ,extra jobs…and get to value your pride by not borrowing your parents extra money.

You finally meet this guy, things become better. You feel loved and sense of security when around him so you decide  to move in with him. The first weeks are heaven. Then in three months things don’t work out…things aren’t as you expected. Then you move out. Back to your own routine and cycle of being ‘free’ …

Some call it ‘growing up’. What do I call it? I don’t know . its just the cycle of life I guess. Some get lucky ..some do not.

I really don’t know what drove me to this writings. I guess its because life is unpredictable ,skeptical.  it just doesn’t matter where you at now, what matters is you took the  first step.

Was having my cup of coffee trying to see if I can read my fortune from the coffee cup…crazy.

THE WORLD WE LIVE IN.

We call them ‘mes’ I don’t know if I spelled it correctly. Its actually the cheapest place to dine in campus in Kenyatta university… I don’t know about the rest. How cheap…well vegetables cost 5shillings.yes that cheap. What am I driving at?..

A friend of mine..Frank; won’t mention his last name. He kept me waiting outside the mess because apparently he ordered for vegetables and they had run out ,but he had already paid for it. So after his meal he went to claim his money back. I was upset. I found it to be silly. Well more because it was a five shilling that kept me parking. So scolded him for that. But he said to me , that he would still do it again. ‘Shillingi tano ni pesa ya maana.’

‘Imagine if people thought like you, thousands of students leaving behind two shillings, three shillings, five shillings just because its not a lot money ,how much money in the end do those people get enriched with our ignorance?’

Its how we think that builds us ,that makes us who we are. We can choose to be ignorant..wise.

I made a new friend. Stephen Okiyo. One of the people who appreciates my work of art. We written a piece together. A duet…something haven’t done for a long time.

Our inspiration?… I asked him one question. What is it that you yearn for and can not have? We ended up being the voice of an urchin

AN URCHINS CONFESSION

“…Toka hapa
Damu chafu.,”
phrases which am familiar to
they no longer break a bone
yes…urchins
we are percieved to be worthless
mannerless
senseless
useless
certainly all adjectives with suffix less

but
hardly do the know
how hard we toil
going that extra mile
just to draw a silver lining
beneath our dark cloud
sadly to contrite
we never rip

i need no clarification!
of this dissatisfaction !
and of my own souls crucifixion
i can tell of the eyes that look at me with disgust
that throw a coin intentionally
missing my bowl hitting the dust
for my arm is wreckless
my heart bound to wrestles
i once had a name…lavenda
i once had a home…near the river
i once was you
i once lived a life
but who cares anyway
of me who sleeps in his driveway
if i persist you push me away
you walk away
you drive away
baseless
its senseless!
“hawa machokora”you say
its…lavenda
but then again who cares

its…
But then again who cares
of me who sniffs glue to survive…addict
of me who cant be able to make two plus two to be four…foolish
of me who cant spell my name…illitrate
of me who is a good for nothing…irrelevant
but all in all
i still smile
a smile of hope
a hope which despairs every second
just holding on to the aphorism
every dog has its day
perhaps mine is tommorow
who knows??
But ipo siku

oh God of all creation…
What about this creation?
What is it do i need for a miracle?
Purification?
Redemption?
Desertion?

I no longer hold on to a pray
for survival i had to learn to prey
heart sunk at the cold
accede with life had to be bold
dreams distorted and bumptious
playing by the rule of being cautious
of livin…

But
am hopeful
one day they will know me by name
LAVENDA…
And not by what the street defines me

my name is lavenda
but then again who cares??

Urchins confession by Vanessa orina and Okiyo Stephen.

WHEN AM GONE

He stopped loving her. Fell in lover with another. Mocked his sick bedridden wife with deceit. His wife , Mary k Escobar asked one thing out of him in her death bed, and that he should stay in their home. He did. One night he came home home early from work with flowers for his porcupine, and found her in the arms of another…his son.
He left the room unheard. Sat on his fevoryt chair stared at the pot that carried the ashes of his beloved..’yes I will miss you’ he said.

He murdered his porcupine and burnt the body into ashes. He died a lonely man.

Have read it uncountable times: ….we all want to missed when we gone..so did Mary

Out of poetry….

MISS ME WHEN AM GONE

Let it be white
But not that bright..
I hope you will get it right.
Don’t let me be in pain.
We both know there is nothing for gain.
Make a speech of me your beloved,
before the crowd, make a show let it be known I was loved..
Loved by you, in your expensive black suit..
Staring at her I wish your guilt haunts for you it best suits.
When am gone ….
Let it not be too soon for you to be gone…
Stay in the empty home
When am gone…
Please miss me.

I don’t want us to fight
Just hold my hand tight
Lie to me its just a flight..
And I will be back…
Don’t let me go to sleep
I fear I might never wake.
Just for one last time love me..again
Wet my dry lips
Say it will be okay
That we will be okay
That I will be fine.

But you choose to stare..
Makes me wonder…
If am gone..
Will I ever be missed..

When am gone..
Let it be ashes
Lay me by the window
Next to us when in love
By the frame of us back when young and in love
Maybe then you will miss me.
When am gone.

Let her be there
Dressed in a cheap black dress
Holding your hands in comfort
Let her sit next to the rest.
Good in act yet never care
Sarcastic mourns of how I was loved.
Talks of pretence from the deceitful of how I will be missed.
As the serpent is amidst my death!

When am gone
Love me again.
Stay home…

When am gone my love
You will miss me..
for you loved me once.

Treacherous Assumptions…

Ridiculous as it may sound…yes was looking for some kind of inspiration. A sense of assurance ,with ammicubale touch of green tea and the view that I grew to like behind my close doors. And I ask myself what next?… slaying my back for comfort ignoring the fact my focus is lost . Acknowledging the depth of emptiness and silence that overruled. Then the feeling came right back, just like before, of pitty..weakness and like I always do …I throw in the towel. Waiting for masculinity to pick me up.
How many times have you heard ‘What a man can do, a woman can do better?’ How many times do you wish to hear it? How and under what copious circumstances do you wish to comprehend that? It doesn’t matter how,when you tell it..the yields will always be the same.

Its a trechorous sigh of disappointment or rather a disguised attempt of inspiration. What is it that you think you are? Stop looking for pitty, favours for being you. 

In the years of senior school, I watched them come and go. Its always the same old song .

‘What a man can do, a woman can do it better’

‘We are all equal’

Yet here we are asking for the government to consider more seats in the Parliament to be ruled out just for women. What happened to ‘us’ being equal and ‘us’ can do better than what men can? 

Girl child is not an ‘disavantage’. You got brains; use them. Yes we are equal, you want something sweat for it and stop asking for pitty and favors. 

Why am I being bitter? Its because am woman weel…a lady is more appropriate; am proud of it: have embraced it and not mascaraed it. You should do too.

You wanted an inspiration lady..here you have it: remember you are woman\lady . be proud , you are capable of achieving much more than what your mind is set in believing in. Sweat on it and let people respect you for that. “A real woman doesn’t do short cuts…she works hard.” 

Now that’s the talk I always wanted to hear ; If you find this precarious then you are a withered leaf that needs no saving.

21 & Over

Two days ago , a friend of mine Hellen shared an article with me ’23-25 ‘written by Heidi Priebe. All about a phase in which tables turn and things seem to be the opposite of what the young and ambitious always picture their life to be.let’s call this the bumpy ride.
Let me take you through my bumptious ride of being 21 and over. I had a boyfriend that I had fallen madly in love with and had this angelic ideas of us getting married, having kids…well I used to be in the vote of four kids he wanted to settle for two…now that have said it ,its sounds more lunitic and cramptious:  very ambitious ,strong …more like I had my life all together. I called the ‘me’ back then ‘indispensable’.

I just turned 23 a week ago. A throbbing cave of ancient hell. Single, broke and very much jobless.I can not say who I am ,nor what I am louder because in every echo of it uttered I visual it shamelessly as flesh meat scoured raw. I discern the word success at this point. Am a mess.we all have this dream of getting good grade s, go to college, graduate and get this dream job you always been dreaming of …and be rich ofcos. 

Well I hate break it down for you…life ain’t a fairy tale. Tables turn, at some point we get hauled up. I mean I got no fucking idea of where the hell am heading. Its more of a concuss depth when I hide behind mek up and get to put on Luther’s king smile and have people see you as this goddess ! Damn it you have no idea of how screwed up of a goddess I am. 

No one wants any complacency to creep in. Stop  hiding in books, support groups and religion just because you think you need fixing and perfection. You are 100% normal. Do it ,because you want to better yourself .you don’t need all of that to assure yourself as a propitious sigh of better future.

The problem is when you get STUCK in the same sport of failure. Get up and move on from where you left.

I know after exclaiming of what a mess I am, of how I almost hate my life right now….I wake up everyday to the same routine. Its because I have no plans of remaining stuck. After all , life is a journey and am going all the way . are you?

Do not trip after reading this, I just ment to comfort you with a little scare & uncertainty. Remember not to get stuck if you walking on my path.

Disagree with me, if you successfull not by luck but by your own sweat…yeah I thought so.

PROPAGANDA

Politics is just politics. Like I always incript ,its a gravious institution full of people with greed .Blessed with big mouth that spit factual facts just to win votes. Robbed of the chance to have our born leaders draft us on wise growth thus we remain extinct.
Corruption has robbed our minds, our thinking has devolved. You ask for people trust and votes they ask for ‘kitu kidogo’ . No wonder our born leaders are trapped in silence and vacuumed in disgust. Fine FW you argue that it won’t kill to corrupt my way in to lead, at the end of the day, will be able to do my country good….but why should I corrupt my win to do good to the same people who need not see it. 

They always promise to build roads, schools, jobs…well president  Uhuru did   blow our minds up when he promised all schools to be resourced with laptops for every student in Kenya. That Marvelled our people in coastal areas…funny. I mean what use are those laptops to a child who schools under a tree? That child who misses school for a month cause it flooded and waters invaded their classrooms?… 

They promised jobs…but they delivered drama and nonsensical money scandal.buying curtain worth a million for a :comfort of his office.                                        Another a wheelbarrow worth five              digits….yet they still warm the sits in the name of building Kenya. 

The question I always ask is not ‘what’ you would do for the country if you become the leader but rather we should ask ‘WHY?’ You want to become a leader?. ..conclusion is we are infected. We are like a virus. Everyone is corrupted.we all want something…a bag of rice? Two hundred shillings? Akina mama lessos ….name them. I rest the rest of my argument.

I mean who would want to argue on this; he gives you three hundred shillings and 2kg of floor and you hand him the power of a sit that’s supposed to mould you for five years. 

There they go again….youthful voice depicted in unnecessary noise screaming congress power…. And the rest sing along ‘power’ . I hope the name hauled is a born leader and not another manifesto…

Debatable. 

For you

I was …me. Yeah I remember the skater blue two sided plit skirt, white blouse and my massive short hair that bubbled my chubby cheeks. Reharsing my lines over and over in the open field. 

And you..watching I guess. You never existed..then in my world. Sturbon..sweet…; you made a way into my zone.my territory.made war with my attitude.. Week yeah I guess I did have some pride to look twice when you patted my shoulders..

Then love:

We skipped friendship.

Maybe that’s why the unease….to let go..to lay loose .

I blamed you….

You blamed me.

I blamed you for giving up..then you left.

Here we are: you…being me: me being you . people come,people go…but you are intentional. It looks likes its over like it always does.

I am only here only because it made away back;  

You made away…don’t know why : don’t know how. You cause walls to break. Its all back.

Intentional. I now want it all back.

Scripted…don’t ask:

My pride defence…its just words on paper..

Intentional… Its intentional. Don’t be.