Growing to a man and embracing my life.
My commitment to Allah, a journey begins with no strife.
Once in a lifetime, a pilgrimage to Mecca must be the end,
To my commitment to my religion and forgiveness of sin.

Number 7 has meaning as the journey begins.
First stop Medina, as I seek out peace.
Hajj station to Bath, dress in the Ihram.
Praying at Masjid Nabawi, purity, equality for all.

A statement of intent, I commit to all.
Entry to Masjid al-Haram complex is now allowed.
Circling seven times Kaaba as I pray to God.
Sipping water from Zam Zam to keep the law.

Walk through the hills of Safa and Marwa times seven,
Where I pray seven times more.
Prayers along the way to my God,
At Mount Arafat then other sacred sites.

Kneeling down to pray to Allah, Day and night.
Sleeping the night with 5 million strong,
Then rise up to stone the devil to atone,
Shaving head for cleansing, showing respect for God.

Sacrifice lambs to feed the poor.
Onward to Mecca, back once more.
Circle Kaaba, pray to my God
Repeating Tawaf on each turn of seven and no more.

Circle Safa, Marwa then on to Mina.
On to Mecca again for more prayers to my God
Enter Makkah performing Hajj,
Before the faithful return to Mecca on seven then do a farewell Tawaf.

Growing to a man and embracing my life.
My commitment to Allah, a journey begins with no strife.
Once in a life time, a pilgrimage to Mecca must be the end,
To my commitment to my religion and forgiveness of sin.

Number 7 has meaning as the journey begins.
First stop Medina, as I seek out peace.
Hajj station to Bath and dress in the Ihram.
Praying at Masjid Nabawi, purity, equality for all.

A statement of intent, I commit to all.
Entry to Masjid al Haram complex is now allowed.
Circling seven times Kaaba as I pray to God.
Sipping water from Zam Zam to keep the law.

Walk through the hills of Safa and Marwa times seven,
Where I pray seven times more.
Prayers along the way to my God,
At Mount Arafat and other sacred sites.

Kneeling down to pray to Allah, Day and night.
Sleeping the night with 5 million strong,
Then rise up to stone the devil to atone,
Shaving head for cleansing, showing respect for God.

Sacrifice lambs to feed the poor.
Onward to Mecca and back once more.
Circle Kaaba and pray to my God
Repeating Tawaf on each turn of seven and no more.

Circle Safa, Marwa and on to Mina.
Then to Mecca again for more prayers to my God
Enter Makkah performing Hajj,
Before the faithful return to Mecca on seven and do a farewell Tawaf.

THIS YEAR 2013; IS THE YEAR OF GREAT DEATHS


Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)


This year alone world society has lost more that ten great intellectual and political leaders. They have been lost to death in a deeply wounding manner. Human society has indeed been robbed. It is so sad. Three of the leaders have been Nobel laureates and the rest are leaders of intellectual, moral, political and spiritual stature in their respective capacities.
It began without any stampede in early part of the year some where March when Chinua Achebe, a Nigerian and Francis Davis Imbuga a Kenyan, both succumbed to early deaths caused by stroke. Rendering not only the citizens of world of literature, but also African society as well as global intellectual communities to the most desperate bereavement. Thereafter, within short while of the subsequent days, The Venezuelans president and Marxist intellectual, Hugo Chavez also succumbed to death caused by throat cancer. Even though the Pravda, the daily circulating paper of Russia contended that Chavez was poisoned; it is dismissible as only a Russian stand attributed to ideological hangover, because the Pravda also made similar allegations in relation to deaths of Yasser Arafat, Pablo Neruda and Frantz Omar Fanon, but it did not go a head to establish the factuality of this very allegations.
What we know is that human life is in most cases contested for by the three spiritual forces of fortune, fate and death. As decried William Shakespeare in his Romeo and Juliet. This time round in the year 2013, the angel of death has dominantly reigned with its untimely consequences in form of fangled early death of our leaders. Herman Melville will remain classical in his concern in the Moby **** about death that; O death! O death! Why are you untimely?  
Sadder is when the Al shabab terrorists killed the Ghanaian born global literary citizen Kofi Owonor. Kofi Owonor the poet and author of This world my brother was among the people killed in Nairobi during the terrorist attack at the Westgate mall. Of course he had come to Kenya to celebrate in literary festival organised by a society of publishers in Nairobi. This is an eventuality of some month ago. In September 2013, the Irish born literary Nobel prize poet; Heaney Seamus died. He died prematurely when the world society most needed his service to literature and his literary service to human society.
A couple of some weeks ago again the world loosed two prominent artists, political leaders, human rights crusaders and intellectuals. These are none other than Doris May Lessing and Tabuley Rosseuru. Lessing was a white African living in London, literature Nobel laureate and a feminist as well as an anti apartheid crusader. She is known for her firm stand against communist utopia, championing for the  courses against dehumanizing  human behaviors like racisms , but mostly Lessing is known for  her  great literary works like ;the grass is singing, Golden Note book, Dann and Mara as well as so many other works. Whereas Tabuley was an African Congolese , a musician , a businessman , once a husband to Africa’s most beautiful songstress Bellia Belle. He was the composer and the vocalist of African Rumba music. His song Bina Mudan which we in Africa always pronounce as Simbukinya was actually an artistic and cultural bombshell. Tabuley has been a politician, who enjoyed a gubernatorial position of the city of Kinshasa for ten years (two terms).
Most disastrous is the currently trial-some moment for the world community as they all commissarriate the death of Nelson Mandela.Mandella died early decemder 2013 at his home in the Johannesburg city of South Africa. The death of Mandela is an open sore to the society. It is a window for social, political, intellectual and family abyss in Africa. It is indeed a sad moment. But what can we do? For it has already happened. We can only swim in the consolation inherent the wisdom of the Babukusu people found in the western part of Kenya that; Mis-brewed wine behooves volunteer carousers. And truly, I have personally joined the world community to commit a poetical kamikaze in volunteering to drink this sour wine of humanity .May god give us and our leaders in their diverse capacities long live. Amen.

Away from the brown soil where I was born,
away from the red strawberries and the yellow corn,
away from the grave of my grandfather who taught me farming,
and away from my family-jammed home with no backyard or swing,
I sing of my far land,
in which my dreams grew,
with no end.
I sing for the land that gave me patience,
that gave me bravery,
that planted love in me,
which became high green trees,
reaching the skies of other hearts,
I sing for the land where love lives,
with hate trying to replace it.

I still sing of my land,
for which I long night after night
song after song,
curse after curse,
tear after tear,
nightmare after another.

I still sing of my land,
where I lost friends and family,
where good people die, not of hunger,
but of oppression,
where good and bad exist,
where easy gets complex,
where stories are narrated by silence,
voices are heard from the dead,
and decisions are made by the foolish.
I still sing for it,
where infants are born political,
and their worrying about their rights becomes their toys.

I sing of the land, where brains are washed with fear and hate,
where farms are separated with walls,
where people are split by destruction,
where rubble shelter children,
where hearts are divided by revenge.

I will still sing for my land,
for what it gives me,
and for what it takes from me…

Mohammed Arafat
09-04-2020

Tomorrow is the end of Ramadan
and then comes Eid
(Festival of Breaking the Fast)
In Gaza, it’s unusual, though
Tomorrow might bring an ache
to a weeping mom’s heart
crying over her child
Tomorrow, more leaves,
might fall
They fall
like they are falling in love
with Gaza's land.

Mohammed Arafat
05-11-2021

I looked around me,
by my sleepless eyes.
I saw beauty, history and love.
I saw peace.
I did see peace,
but only inside the worshipping places,
and between the worshipper and God,
and only inside the hearts of righteous.
I then looked around,
and smelled hate and detestation,
all around my home,
in the occupied city of Jerusalem.

A checkpoint,
an unidentified ID,
threats,
demolition orders,
a wall, a high one,
which should have to go,
watchtowers,
hating settlers,
and soldiers with helmets and M16s,
made it so hard for me to live,
along with my family,
in my city.
Yet, I lived because I love,
the old city of Jerusalem.

Palestinians in my area are gone.
It was only me, and lots of settlers,
around me.
I accepted that,
because I wanted peace,
I wanted love,
I wanted Jerusalem,
But they didn’t accept it.

Secured with shields, heavy weapons,
and chants of settlers,
they evicted my kids and wife,
from my home,
on which they planted their flag,
while media covered the incident all round us.

They then arrested me not knowing why.
I though knew this house was mine.
It was my father’s.
my grandfather’s,
and my great grandfather’s.
It was built before their court was built!

They lived instead of me.
They ate from our food,
sat in our sofas,
watched our T.V,
and slept in our beds.

I wept…
for the first time in my life,
I wept…
like little kids,
I wept…
Like a mother weeping over her lost son.
None made me weep,
but them,
and their hate.

Mohammed Arafat
17-02-2019