The Battle of Verse

The sun is gone and night has come,

For many a soul tis time for rest. 

 

Not quite so for our Queen of verse,

Oh not so for our Lady of prose.

 

Maps all laid upon the table,

Studied over and over with her men of voice.

 

Paths crossed once and crossed anew,

Ravines scoured with poring eyes.

 

This all done to route out traps,

Set by the enemy to bring us down.

 

The body and mind scream for rest

The leader of the troupe must remain alert.

 

I will sing a song to cheer you on,

I will whistle a tune to keep you alert.

 

We will prepare the victory trumpets,

We will prime the trombone of success.

 

Our Lady of verse is leading battle,

Our victory from prose is coming home.

We Fire On

Another day risen
Drums roll to set pace
Swords set in their sheaths
Ready for final battle of season

We don’t faint from past losses
We don’t gloat of victories past
We put aside that which is behind
And lay sight on today’s victory

I blow this trumpet
I will clap the cymbals
I will set the drums rolling
And get the pipes played

To spur our soldiers
To sharpen their will
To uplift our heroine
And bring this victory home.

Communication

A child throwing tantrums and a bully in school are an all too familiar sight. The former hasn’t learnt to communicate his needs well but knows his fits yield results, the latter craves attention and figures that ‘heaven is taken by violence’.

A recent occurrence draws parallel to these two scenarios. Former cabinet secretary, Ms. Anne Waiguru, had to step down from office on health grounds – this after hue and cry over corruption scandals unravelled in her ministry, never mind it was she who ordered investigations that revealed the same, or so she says.

The general public went on the rampage by pouring bile through social media. For a time they let out a cry for justice but eventually bayed for blood when targeted ears proved well waxed.

The crying was not sin, it was commendable if not heroic. Bullying is the point of contention. Figuratively speaking, Ms. Waiguru was undressed in the public square and I cannot clearly ascertain that the nudity exposed was truth or mere description borne out of lewd imagination.

We had gotten onto the bare floor, crying about lost funds, exorbitant spending, and double standards in the government’s fight against corruption. Rather than bear fruit, it bred contempt. Ms. Waiguru would stay put, we were told.

Insult had been added to injury and the populous whined and whined some more. Objectivity was lost in the melee, so that rather than speak about the pain of the pinching shoe there was screaming and hurling of insults. This may have been justified because nobody in authority seemed to listen. Salt had been rubbed into the wound by affirming that Madam was there to stay, accusation notwithstanding.
The tyrade raged and it turned ugly. She was called names, her person getting battered and dragged through murk. The masses became a bully and like a rusted bolt, authorities remained stubbornly firm but when the wrench persisted there was a turn. Scales fell off and the nut gave way, the cabinet secretary eventually tendering her resignation on health grounds. She could no longer stand the heat.

This was both good and bad. Good that the person seen as a problem bowed out, and bad because it affirmed the effectiveness of the strategy the masses had employed – one that had earlier seen CNN allude to an apology and pull down a headline after the infamous ‘Kenyans on Twitter’ raised dust.

When a young one is all up squirming and rolling with lungs at maximum decibel, he should at best be ignored and taught to express his needs in words. When the said need cannot be met at all, he is made to understand that one sometimes has to do without certain things until they can be afforded or viable alternatives procured.

Responsibility thus lies on two persons: the adult to patiently wait for the tantrum to pass and do the explaining – and this may not succeed on the first go – and the child to realise that their best interest is always held at heart.

In our case I would say the ‘adult’ was wrong and my narrative expectedly should be one to outline what the government ought to do. I will not go there. They are the adult and so will best choose what to do with themselves.

The allegory bears we the society as the child, only that this time, in my opinion, the tantrum and bullying was justified. My belief however, is that we should act wiser and choose to communicate our needs more articulately. Let us point out the ills, support our claim with credible evidence and stick to that.

Should the call be ignored, we should press the facts all the more harder. This way, the big guns will know that they cannot cover their tracks with the ‘my community’ or ‘my gender’ is besieged talk. We will have ground to secure unity among the people as facts will subvert any attempt at sneaking in ethnicity. If we just whine and bully they ever will get away with their sins and rely on the repeated occurrence of storms eventually dying down.

With the same spirit we rally each other to collect colossal sums of money towards medical treatment of fellow citizens and for disaster management, we can collect funds for private prosecution. If authorities will not take action, we could do it. Slowly but surely we will get to the place we want to be – a nation where impunity is not condoned and where citizens can take action constructively.

This may appear a pipe dream but aren’t dreams valid? Yes, solutions to every tough fix start with a dream – and the will to implement that dream no matter how difficult it may seem.

Parenthood

You need to go out but need to be clever about it. Getting permission from Mum or Dad is totally out of question – let alone mentioning it.

Well, a boy has to be clever to survive. Pile pillows under the blanket and the party’s good to go.

At the crack of dawn things need to be quickly done, this is inspite of the lag booze is causing up the cranium. Gently open the window, unfurl the blanket and quickly get under – before Dad peeks in.

Oops! The pillow feels more solid than it should, and warm too. Ohoh, it’s breathing‚ĶDad!

This just had to be Crosby
#parenthood

Reading

Language is important.

It doesn’t just facilitate communication, but brings new light to learning.

Statements make sense and concepts stick.

The learner is not compelled to cram but is instead encouraged to think.

Let us take time to read to our children – and we too, take time to read.

We would make our land a better place.

It Is Why I Did It

This story was shared by rapper, Mayor Boss, on his facebook page:

A lovely little girl was holding two
apples with both hands.
Her mum came in and softly asked
her little daughter with a smile:
“My sweetie, could you give your
mum one of your two apples?”
The girl looked up at her mum for
a moment then suddenly
took a quick bite on one apple, and
then quickly on the other.
The mother’s smile froze. She tried hard not to reveal her disappointment.
The little girl then handed one of
her bitten apples to her mum, and
said “Mummy, here you are. This is
the sweeter one”.

No matter who you are, how
experienced you are, and how knowledgeable you think you are, always delay judgement. Give others the privilege to explain themselves. What you see may not be the reality. Never conclude for
others.

Which is why we should never only
focus on the surface and judge
others without first understanding them.

Those who like to pay the bill, do so not because they are loaded,
but because they value friendship above money.

Those who take the initiative at work, do so not because they are stupid but because they understand the concept of
responsibility.

Those who apologize first after a
fight, do so not because they are
wrong but because they value the
people around them.

Those who are willing to help you, do so not because they owe you any thing but because they see you as a true friend.

Those who often text you, do so not
because they have nothing better to do but because you are in their heart.

One day, all of us will get separated from each other; we willmiss our conversations of everything & nothing; the dreams
that we had. Days will pass by, months, years, until this contact becomes rare…

One day our children will see our pictures and ask “Who are these people? ” We will smile with invisible tears because a heart is touched with a strong word and you will say: “IT WAS THEM THAT I HAD THE BEST
DAYS OF MY LIFE WITH”

| Fashion Illustrator By @Peniel_Enchill
# Story # YoungPaperboyz
# LifeOfTheBoys

In the Trenches

It is hard to have a loved one serving in the forces yet so much about their work could offer comfort:

You, my soldier are in the trenches
Fighting for me and mine.
I cannot have you in my arms
You’re out there fighting for me and mine

My man is away on adventure
Not a foolish one where mice scamper and owls hoot
He is in the trenches
Fighting for me and mine.

My soldier I cannot be selfish
To want you for me and me alone
That is because you have a big heart
Fighting for me and mine

Where I am weak I know you are strong
I feel you in the wind
Executing the command
That knowledge makes me strong
Because you are in the trenches
Fighting for me and mine

When it is painful that you come close
Yet not near enough for my arms to hold
I will be comforted in knowing we share the sun and the moon
And you are going to the trenches
To fight for me and mine.

I may toss and turn
Trying to reach you
But you will come home
Where I will be held in the strength of your arms
You will be back from the trenches
From fighting for me and mine

Your love will rock me
Your presence will enfold me
You will have been back from the trenches
Back from fighting for me and mine.

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