I often remember with a lot of thrill in my spine every time I reflect on the Writings of Miguna Miguna in his book peeling Back the Masks, a certain sub-plot that most of Kenyan students in Canada, America, Britain, Germany or Australia often fail to go through pre-university examinations and then they opt for faculty friendly courses like carpentry and electrical-wire man offered at some polytechnics in this countries. Then these students end up living as informal sector workers in the Diaspora, and hence putting themselves into a cash strapped condition that they don’t easily come back home. This is also the same texture of revelations I have been encountering for the past five months of my regular reading of the literary pages of The Saturday Nation, in which a most of Kenyans write alongside some foreigners, but notably Professor Austin Bukenya as the foreign writer, Bukenya himself being a Ugandan.
The revelations are that the writers who were regularly writing on these pages sometimes ago have gradually waned up, not because of anything but due to their intellectual irrelevance. Mostly caused by a defect of intellectual inferiority. They were the likes of Evans Mwangi; Mwangi was forthrightly coming up with a tribally fine-tuned niche in the name of being Ngugi wa Thiong’o scholar. He had a specialization in writing about Ngugi because Ngugi is his tribesman, they are both Kikuyu’s.He also had substantial writings on Ngugi’s children; Mukoma, Lee, Nducu and Wanjiku wa Ngugi, who are in similar stretch of their father struggling to be established as writers. But all in all, Professor Evans Mwangi has already ended up as an intellectual without consequences.
Another writer in point was one; Dr Tom Odhiambo, who also teaches literature at the University of Nairobi. He had been writing on the same pages but with a strong bent towards Luo Chauvinism and stark Conspiracy against Luhyia veteran literary Critic Professor Chris Wanjala.
The only Kenyan literary activist who has been trying to remain globally vogue in his literary writings on this platform is Dr Godwin Siundu; he often displays Global relevance through his pataphorous approach to literary appreciations and criticism.
But whatsoever the case, professor Bukenya has towered seriously above these Kenyans.Bukenya’s command of English language and literary command has no match on the Kenyan literary market. Bukenya Tackles globalectics of literature as Kenyans struggle with tribalism of their home literature.Ethinicity is the enemy of Kenyan literature and as well an established foe of any other Kenyan professional perspective.
Why Kenyans are threatened with intellectual suffocation when exposed to otherness is because of a few reasons. As cited above ethinicism remains a dominant factor. But also, lack of homogenous public language, absence of ideology in their political history, failure of politics to achieve common nationalism and corruption in the public sector are contributing forces among others.
Your consecutive  look at the literary pages of  the Saturday Nation of the previous three weekends will be an empirical testimony to this position.Bukenya’s stories have surveyed dialectics of English language, aging of African literature , translation and greatness of Uganda orature with a focus on Okot P’ Bitek. And this weekend he has beautifully lime-lighted on Julius Nyerere’s Intellectual tigritude. Nyerere’s as the killer of colonialism but while at the same time he lingered as the staunch lover of Shakespeare.
This is simply a farcical repetition of the previous tragic history, as reflected in the words of Karl Marx in his 18th Brumaire, which made the Ugandan educated Sudanese Poet, Taban Reneket Makititiyong Lo Liyong to look at Kenya’s literary poverty and then take a synechedochal stand to decry that east Africa is a literary desert. He was right, but in a sense he did not mean east Africa per se, he meant Kenya .Kenya at that time had only an English Department at the University of Nairobi. The department was poorly performing in terms of research. It was desperately tethered duplicating of the European classics as its literary overture.
But when the foreign and radical blood came to Kenya, in guest of helping Kenya to overcome the fog in the seasons end from colonial mire to literary and cultural freedom, Native Kenyans were surprisingly never friendly to them at all at all. Some of the intellectuals who had come to Kenya that time were the greats like :Ezekiel Mphalele from south Africa, Okot p’ Bitek from Uganda,Okello Oculii from Uganda,Ayi Kwei Armah from Ghana, Joie De Graft from Ghana, Walter Rodney from Guyana, Austeen Bukenya from Uganda and Taban Lo Liyong from Uganda.
All of these foreigners in Kenya have later on been absolved by time and history  as literary greats.They have proved clear intellectual and literary superlativety  over and above all Kenyans. The point of contrite is that, Kenyans of that era did not give them a chance to share their intellectual resource with the peasants and masses of Kenya. Instead Kenyan bureaucrats began their usual came of intimidation and tribal nagging whenever intellectually outshone.
Austeen Bukenya was condemned into poverty at Machakos girls high school to be an English teacher or a teacher of English without a salary. Liyong and Pitek were perpetually witch-hunted out of University of Nairobi by Ngugi and Wanjala. Rodney and Armah were frustrated until they desperately moved to Tanzania from where they wrote their respective oeuvres. Armah wrote Why are we Blessed, While Rodney wrote the world famous book How Europe Underdeveloped Africa. Mphalele was frustrated to oblivion, only for him to die mysteriously when on a literary tour in West Africa.
But sadly enough, the Kenyans who were seriously illiterate, in the  likes of : Daniel Moi, Jomo Kenyatta, Ezekiel Barengtunny  and many intellectuals so-so’s shamelessly made themselves to be  chancellors of the Universities .They were chancellors who never went beyond class seven of primary schools in their child hood. They then became bovaristic if not atavistic only to begin writing lame books like Nyayo Philosophy, Suffering without Bitterness, Facing Mount Kenya and other literary trash of the same calibre. It is this intellectual sludge that they again turned to impose as compulsory reading materials on sons and daughters of poor Kenyans.
By
Alexander K. Opicho
Eldoret, Kenya.

Wonderful and beautiful
Fills my heart with joy
But alas, I have been called weird,
For my love of the story sublime.
I may not care about politics, unless Palpatine is involved,
But chancellors aside, Star Wars is where my world revolves.
I may not be courageous, like the awesome Han Solo,
But, when it inflames my heart, unstoppable I am, just like my heroes.
I cannot stress this enough, it may be bad as a passion, but Star Wars will never desert me! And that's just the start!
Sure, I could spend my time making a million dollars,
Or maybe even starting an empire,
but I see no better way to spend my time,
than to obsess on the thing that is mine!
(just kidding! I don't own it. Is saying that a crime?)
Anyway, to finish off my bad poem I must say one last thing,
STAR WARS STAR WARS YOU ARE MY KING!

For the day of wrath
I will yell,
the grotesque heaven
is waiting,
to take me to the wide antechamber
of hell,
there I will encounter
the master of darkness,
around,
I shall feel magnetic spell,
the wonderful sound of the exquisite,
pensiveness,
of the souls that fell.

The old prophecy is coming,
my new belief
enhanced.
The hallowed hidden truth
the day of morning,
the day of night will disperse
the world in ashes.
His angels,
and effigies will be waiting,
will protect me,
from the old god,
who has been found wanting.

The old one is now trapped
in cold heaven,
that resides
in the secluded sepulchre,
waiting
for his demise as he’s beaten.
Fear of heavens
will cut out all,
the ancient  and boring god
has now been broken.
The mighty expressions of the saved souls,
now residing
in their assured haven.

So appealing,
charismatic and alluring
will be the inspirations
for my heart and mind,
the trepidation
of this great majestic king,
will gladly and freely save me.
I am worthy of my redeeming,
From
the agonies of ancient,
and primeval beliefs,
which trapped me
into a world of disbelieving.

The descendants of Satan
are united,
in a new era of the virginal power,
the bitterness of silence is incorporated,
the forbidden secrets of the infernal,
by intense feelings
are exhilarated,
which will **** up
the darkness,
from our jubilant minds
pitied and restricted.

The chaos of stability
will take full control,
and will enchant
our enriched wisdom,
from developed seeds of our darkest soul,
while the heretic outcasts of heaven
will devastate
the earlier earthly goal.
We will become
like wolves among sheep,
in a weak  herd upon their raw and inflamed soul.
Let us fight
the good fight,
and may the power of death,
remove
those who are reluctant to incite,
for the sake of the kingdom,
belonging
to the Lord of the  fright,
mocks the priest
who preaches justice,
for he is the worst of the contrite.

The might of the unholy spirit
arises,
it will reproduce
in abundance.
this ungodly creature
who amazes,
with their eyes that glow in the dark,
searching
among networks and mazes,
who are rebellious and outcasts,
and will actually become wretches.

Angels of darkness
we have become,
to haunt
the weak and capture their spirits.
We are mysterious beings
living in whoredom,
taking the form of the profane icons,
staring
into the jealous eyes of God
who became lonesome.
Satan
will strike violently
into the earth,
where in his new kingdom
everyone is welcome.

Behold the king
who is the wonder of wonders,
the master of the horn
the healer of the repelled souls,
enter the darkness
with your new chancellors,
unconsecrated
spirits from the heretical sites,
exploding
into a blazing fire of demonic colours.
The burning effigies
shalt strike into the heart of the pious,
and shall burn forever in all corners.

For that which is written we shall rejoice,
the strong winds will carry Satan’s voice,

I say out loudly
I have listened to the inadequate cries,
gazed deeply
into my devil's eyes.

The Lord of darkness is awakened from his eternal sleep,
and I can hear the father, the son and the ghost weep.

Whoredom as :- Unlawful ****** relations

Academic meanness in the blend of old age crisis
Have over-taken the only professor in my country,
He began with a colonial Maths diploma to his current air
Of Doctorate in history of his ethnic pristine African village,
He served all the universities as the chancellor of chancellors,
Unto now to his octogenarian age dressed in full suits of bitterness,
He is strongly jealousy to full scale of intellectual blindness,
In full plumage of faith that none else went to school after himself,
In the parochial mental realm of his foot steps on the sands of time
Being the features and land-marks of education in the land of Africa,
He hates other scholars with passion, but no iota of reason
He feels them defective as their tribes can not produce a professor,
His fear is that who will teach PhD. students after his death,
He refers to his family as center of everything, none else can do
Other than his glorious sons and daughters from his dear wife,
Mrs. Professor speaks twenty four languages; Greek and Russian,
A mere saucer to her strong linguisticised African mandibles,
Who else on earth can have a wife of this sterling caliber?
That made the Kalahari and Sahara deserts to have thunder.

and what of the magicians
where do we fit into the picture
indeed we are
the designated chancellors of
the king and queen success
we serve
the Royal Highness
if it pleases them
we give them priceless
advise and supervision
to our majesty's grace
career and evolution
if it pleases
the king and queen
thus
we have
earned the exclusive right
to whisper in their ears
good advice
and
it is our firm
and solid duty
while
some people
suggest our primary role
differently
and
call us
donkey kissers

After
ministerial meetings and duties of
advisers
chancellors
administrators
magicians
and
court jesters
the majority of
the royal staff
decided that
the
royal king
is fit for a feast of
pheasant
wild geese
and
wild boar
fruit and drink
and
a host of jugulars and
fair dancing maidens
requested merriment of
the royal palace

.          Reverse Colonisation.

        No, no, no, we can’t have

     Rishi Sunak as primeminister,

That would be a national and historic

Embarrassment, no way, put Truss in.


But everyone will see that as racism?

  "Well, ok then, get that Niger chap

              What’s his name”

   Kwarthing Sir, Kwasi Kwarthing.

    "Give him the Chancellors job"


   They are protesting outside the

  Conference hall sir, thousands of

     People with placards chanting

DerogaTory slogans led by that Irish

  ****. “Who” The Lynch Mob, Sir!

I wonder if war would be so frequent,
If those declaring such evil on another,
Had to face it head on,
Would presidents, ministers and chancellors,
Be more open to discussion,
If it were their leg that risks the landmine,
Their friends that fell to the I.E.D,
Their lives were the ones on the line,
Alas only a thought experiment,
Cowards tend to create conflict and flee,
Sending other to do their ***** work,
Then too afraid to look them in the eye,
The eye that saw unimaginable pain,
Unimaginable suffering,
Unimaginable evil,
Yet,
The world leader is the reason,
Those unimaginable things,
Still reflect in their eye.

.                            Sir.


            Reverse Colonisation.

        "No, no, no, we can’t have

     Rishi Sunpak as primeminister,

That would be a national and historic

Embarrassment, no way, put Truss in"


But everyone will see that as racism!

  "Well, ok then, get that black chap,

              What’s his name”?

  Quarthing Sir, Quasi Quarthing.

    "Give him the Chancellors job"


   They are protesting outside the

  Conference hall Sir, thousands of

     People with placards chanting

DerogaTory slogans led by that Irish

  ****. “Who” The Lynch Mob, Sir!