The Knight of faith
EYE TO EYE WITH THE DEVIL
THE WORLD SHUT AWAY
FISTS CLENCHING IN MENACE
A FURNACE  OF SMOLDERING SULPHER
MY MISSION TO ACCOMPLISH
SO  OTHERS CANNOT SUFFER
A CHILD OFFERED TO THE MONSTER
**** OR BE KILLED THE KING DID NOT BOTHER
NO SOUL EVER RETURNS AFTER
- THE LAST VAULT OF THE DUNGEON IS SEALED.
HOPE IS MY BEST FRIEND
UNTIL MAYBE IM SKULL AND BONES
AND THE GODS SEND THE RAINS

ONE THING I KNOW FOR SURE
IM NOT READY YET TO DIE

THE CREATURE  ADVANCES AND ROARS
A VOICE WHISPERS YOU ARE NOT  LIKE THE OTHERS
MY HEART POUNDS ,I STAND MY GROUND.

Continued from part 1...

There was a thud as someone behind him hit the ground… probably the recipient of the bullet.  His chest hurt, everything from his neck down was on fire. Michael tried to get up, and gave up. He slumped face first into the shallow water, taking a mouthful of sand in the process.
So this is how I was meant to go? Was his last thought before everything went dark.
The commotion brought him back, the smell of battle and violence, blood and guns, arrows flew past… rifles went off. He decided to stay down for a moment, until he could maneuver how he was going to get up without being hit. Tilting his head, he looked back up the beach, they were more than he remembered… and seemed to be spilling in from the dense forest. And then he turned and saw his comrades. Five brave souls, an arrow whizzed past his head and struck! Four brave souls. Mark fell off the canoe and splashed into the water.
Hamisi and Lewis were yelling at him to get into the boat, he tried to get up but his arms failed him. The arrow had done more than enough damage, He was bleeding out fast. The pain was excruciating, but he needed to get into that boat… or he was definitely going to die on that beach… with these savages. No can do. Michael made one last determined effort and pushed himself off the ground, his broken ribs grazed against one another under his chest… the arrow wasn’t helping. But he was on his feet and dragging himself to the boat.
Lying on the floor and peeking out the front of the boat, Juma and Modi, the two coast guard officers were shooting down bow and arrow wielding savages  one after another. Michael got to the boat and managed to catch a glimpse of a head hunter as a bullet struck him clean on the forehead. A head shot! He caught the irony. The ragged fellow in a filthy and tattered brown shirt and blue jeans that were equally as tattered, was ****** of the ground, legs in the air… arms flailing and then landed ******* his back. His right leg flinched once, and then he didn’t move. Juma took a moment to admire his marksmanship with a slight smile. Then he was firing again.
‘They’re too many! We need to go now!’ Hamisi was shouting as he grabbed one of the oars and began to row wildly, Lewis lunged at the other one and followed suit.  An arrow struck the floor of the canoe between them. They rowed harder.
As they pulled away from the shoreline Modi and Juma began to laugh, slowly at first, then it got more intense, the other two joined in and in a few seconds all four were in hysterics in that little boat. It was more of a nervous celebratory laugh than anything else. Michael attempted to join in but his ribs shot waves of pain throughout his nervous system.
He blacked out again…

"Nyamama owada in e mara ma oingo nyiri duto"-Ongoro Jakarachuonyo.

Busy listening to luo music; What a cool evening of inspiration.

I felt a lot of connection hearing my brothers defining love with such honesty.
   "Nindo otama yawa nindo tama yaye kaparo nyadundo"

The purity of rhythm was soaking my blood . Rhumba is soothing with notable songs like “Elector Nyarkano” by Madanje Perimeter.

Prezda “Igwe” Bandasson
“Nyisuba” one of his best creations. What i love most about Bandasson is that he got unique style and writing skill not like his fellow benga artists; If you like  Ferre Gola, now this the man to listen to.

My evening was going on well with some ohangla likes of ; "Kanungo".

“Kanungo is one of the song that you must have heard wherever you are in this country. Its one of the top songs of both 2014 and 2015 even though it's not my musical taste but Otieno Aloka defines Ohangla in a creative way; The drums are well arranged and composition is just amazing.

That brings me to a funny question who is Emma Jalamo?  He is not old in the game but the guy has come up with a unique Ohangla sound that takes him at par with the rhumba musicians as old fork and young people alike listen to his music with zeal. His new album, “Sherry” is a master piece with hits like “Wivu mbaya”.

Luo music is intelligent entertaining and soothing .

Tony Nyadundo is another seasoned musician who has traveled wide with his Ohangla beat which spread across the country like bush fire. He released hits like "Mapenzi Kizunguzingu".

My playlist couldn't be complete minus The bird aka Osogo Winyo;
he has taken a low profile of late, musically, but he has some of the best Ohangla sounds of this decade.

Musa Juma and Limpopo Band is so common in luo with sweet resonating songs like ; "Aggrey ,Maselina,Lake Victoria" .

It didn't stopped their; i went deep to discover heartbreak sounds likes of "Our Only John Juniour".
John juniour, is one of current trending names in Nyanza due to his sweet voice and romantic writing skills. "Nyoremo and kalisto baba" are well crafted when it comes to composition.

Another talented artist is ; Wuod Phiby who is also a producer and sound engineer at Barikiwa studio. He's the owner of hit songs like " Cham gi ****'i" and many more.

Makadem is one of the the artist signed to Ketebul music is known worldwide with a brands that precedes him as he is commonly known as the Ohangla man.

We have alot of talented luo artists but let me focus on our own few who are so creative when it comes to fusing . I'm talking of Owiyo ; She is one of the first female artists to fuse the Nyatiti beat with modern fusion and with songs like “Kisumu 100”, she still remains so relevant in the industry that her new song, “wamiel” is doing quite fine.

I've listened to a lot of modern Benga maybe ones played on the radio. I was not well informed that much on old sounds but when i dug the tapes and crates to so called luo "thum gi timbegi".
Abila gi thum machon ; I discovered names like;
1) George Ramogi
George ramogi died but left a name for himself with songs like Affline the Pretty and Wiya Chandore Malit.

2) Ochieng Kabaselleh
When we were growing up we use to hear  songs like," Zainabu,Achi Maria and Dunia mokili".  Kabaselleh and Luna Kidi Band were the voice of love within Nyanza at that time.

3) Okatch Biggie
"Nyathi nyakach atimni ang'o?"
Before his death he sold thousand of copies of the same record. He had countless hit songs like "Okatch pod ngima,Hellena nya kabondo e.t.c".

4) Osito Kale
Osito and Ogina Koko termed to bring some of remarkable songs like "Rapar Angelina" .Asembo born artist is one of luo musician with aggressive thoughts and creativity.

5) Ouma Omore
Many of new generation might not have known him but he got massive Jams like "Atwech Nyaduse" were so common in my parents mouth. He wrote many songs on him like "Perry Odhi Chuth,To Natimi Nade e.t.c".

5) D.O Misiani
The late misiani and Shirati band was and still one of the voices who spoke against corruption in moi regime with songs like "Bim en Bim,Lee tinde mor and Amolo piny Pako Te". Tanzania born Benga star rose to fame with songs like "Auma Lando and Wich Teko Ok Kony".

6) Collela Mazee
I don't have much to say about Collela but lyrics like;
"Kare piny luoro ka aleki nya john" caught my attention. Collela was a great composer with every rhyme and sense falling at their place".

We have thousand artists(some died)who did and still doing music from Nyanza i couldn't mention all even though there are different genres associated with Luo music like Benga , Ohangla, Rhumba, Afro-fusion and the likes, the musicians have always strive to be at the top of the music game. By Luo music, I mean those music sang partly or fully in Dholuo,the music is honest,creative and enjoyable.

I'm blessed to say;This artists have done great with their music and still doing it.

By Quoting The Late Ongala lyrics..."Mziki haina mwenyewe", As long as you can create;
Educative
Entertaining
And melodical changes a persons life don't stop doing it. Music is power. Let's support our own.

   Compiled By Budding Dirt.

Bribing for Uthamaki survival,
Made Kenya a fortune’s fool,
Not only Kenya but those that gave
And received bribes of all sorts,
Job favour and money favour
To make Uthamaki an eternal kingdom,
They all chewed un-toothsome slices
Of the public fortune’s fools,

They were bribed by cars, money, jobs,
Lands, upmarket houses. And all the stuffs
Of bribery regalia, and then they went dumb,
On truth and facts of the day; them; Chiloba and
Chebukat, dumb they went holus-bolus in the manacle
Of the claws of Uthamaki and its jostle for eternity,
Like the victims of slaughter in Tolstoyan epics.
They hated the truth and fell in love with falsehood,
Feeding children of Kenya on the brutality of Gebelawi,
Faked elections and police brutality in the alley of Samantha,
She died seeing the club of a full geared anti-riot police, it was
All but power of the bribe in the vacuum of conscience,
The true desire of our ages, ages, ages, ages; desire for ages,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Musando,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Juma,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Samantha Pendo,
A bribe can **** yes it killed Stephanie on the balcony,
The bribe kills brutally when taken in line of duty,
A job promotion to job security fight for Uthamaki,
It kills brutally when received in line of avarice;
More land, houses in Karen, swollen bank dove-cots,
Free lunch and air-ticket windows of the bribe,
That can ******* to death when siring Uthamaki,

A bribe kills reason, mires power of truth,
A bribe fetters love for truth but bigotry extolled,
It can sent you to Paris sprinting with the keys
To the server room stuffed in your pocket,
A bribe warps the mind of the giver and the taker,
It makes democracy look the platter on which
Was John’s head, I mean the Baptist,

Uthamaki nourishes itself on the power of crime,
Looting, corruption, ***** riches, prostitution, lawless
hawking, Cartels, land-stealing, insider contracting,
faked academic testimonies, employment by tribe,
gangstering like Mungikification of the youths, insider
tendering, and now computer-generated uthamaki
all but nothing less than power of the bribe,

legerity is full in the hands of Uthamaki,
to condemn the sit that loves the truth,
fairness and justice is the harmful light to the bat’s eye
of Uthamaki, Uthamaki and the truth are oil and water,
uthamaki and the truth are as a Muslim and pork
uthamaki and the truth are an Israeli and an Arab,
they are an anti-thesis, Kenya a battle-field. Uthamaki
the thesis of imperial selfishness, democratic truth
the poor child of Kenya on the guillotine made of bribe,

Uthamaki has the name an epiphany all over,
Hospitals, schools, roads, avenues, maternity homes
Colleges, toilets, airports, prisons, barracks beyond zero,
And so forth, they all bare the name Uthamaki,
Uthamaki where are your age-mates and prison mates
Imprisoned for parting in struggle for freedom, Uthamaki,
You have stolen Kenya’s history and slaughtered the owners
At the slaughter-stone of bribe, using the tribe as your Knife,

The sun burned through his skin, the saltiness of the sea almost acting as seasoning on his flesh, he could make out the birds circling overhead as his vision cleared. They were seagulls, not vultures. Still, they had a menacing look about them. He sat up and looked around the little boat, everyone was asleep, Michael wasn't sure whether this was due to exhaustion or whether they were trying to conserve their energy. One thing was for sure, that fireball in the sky was draining them of everything liquid in their systems. He stared at the sea and, for a moment, considered drinking the salt water, weighing this option against the raspy dryness that he was feeling at the back of his throat. The salt water could wait.
He stood up, and the sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the arrow he’d been struck with, it was gone now, but the pain still remained. The guys must have found a way to dislodge it, brilliant lot. There was ocean everywhere, no land in sight, no hope. For a moment Michael wished it was nighttime so he wouldn't be able to see far enough to realize that he had no hope of finding land anytime soon, and also that fireball wouldn't be tormenting them so. He stepped forward then caught his breath as something moved in the water.
A shadow almost the size of the boat swam under it. Michael watched as it glided, gracefully through the water. He had no idea what he was looking at, only that it was huge. A shark maybe? King fish? Both sounded dangerous, and both sounded like food. He was delusional, but hunger tended to do that to people. The food swam a few meters away, teasing him, and then circled back. He swallowed dry saliva.
‘What are you doing? You should be lying down, save your strength Mike.’ Modi spoke from behind him.
So that’s what they were doing, saving their strength. Food passed under the boat again and appeared on the other side.
‘Shhh… food.’ Michel whispered, pointing. As if he would startle a fish that was bigger than he was if he spoke too loudly.
Modi came closer. A shark fin broke the surface of the water and dipped again. They turned to each other and both had a mini-heart attack.
‘We should turn and head back to the island man, I’d sooner face those savages again than this killer of an ocean.’ Modi was saying, fear written all over his face. He grabbed his rifle and aimed at the water, but Michael stopped him.
‘Save your ammo bruh, we might need it. And anyway, we’re in a boat, it can’t reach us. Stop freaking…’ but before he could finish his sentence the shark had bumped into the canoe, tilting it slightly, ‘…GIMME THAT!’ he grabbed the gun from his friend and frantically pumped four shots in the direction of the fish, which swam hurriedly away, unhurt. Michael fell back into the boat, breathing heavily. He was a mess, the smell of the caked blood and that of the sea water finally catching up to his nasal senses, he threw up.
‘Bruh, I don’t think that’s wise… you need to keep that food in your body, not the opposite.’ Hamisi was saying. They were all up now, the gunshots playing the part of an alarm clock. Time to wake up and face an awful reality.
‘Shoulda’ just let me sleep.’ Juma said.
Mentally, they all agreed with him.

Jacob Ekirapa! who killed you?
Your body was found puddled,
In blood that oozed out behind your head,
In your car you slept humble as in life,
Gorged in a trench downslope Kanduyi,
You were smiling in death as you ever did in life
Mindless to the murderer’s lethal object that crushed
Your head from the nape, an early a shot to the realm of deads,

Your Life in Lodwar City was Godly and peaceful
Serving God via varsity teaching as service to mankind
You quarreled not but you ever oozed intellect,
The Turkana chicken that roosted in your hearth you never
Went foxy to un-feather, deep in purity, a godly conscience,
As colleagues and friends were on a pageant of amorous mighty,
In a rampage, chasing women, money and Tusker at costs possible
Within the range of snobbish freedom that Lodwar-heat allowed,
Then you beautifully pitched and harvested a job at home,

Only to work at home with vintage discipline,
Serving the County people, Bungoma of your birth,
Least in your ken that the owl is ogling at you
With the certain lust of death, it killed you whole-meal
As if it has never killed, as if it has never killed, as if...
Killing you was the apex of glory for those that fear a spark
Of talent, discipline, brilliance, ****** hygiene, generosity and
Technical competence in the nerves of a youth which you evinced,

Jacocb Ekirapa! Who killed you?  was it a man or a woman?
Did the Bukusu people **** you because you are son of a Teso?
Or the a Teso killed because you had a job and then becoming rich?
The accident theory was a smoke-screen, to throw us off-sleuth
You killer hides behind a stage managed crush of your new car,
God could have allowed dialogue between the dead and the living
For you to tell me the man who killed you, why he killed you and how,
You are a friend that death robbed me, leaving me in a lurch of full despair,
In this world that is full of gossipers, sadists, bigots, wrys, sardonics, waifs, saddos,
Thieves, stooges, copy-cats, tribalists, self-congratulators, killers, egotistic egoists,
Making me now a neurotic listologist, but all in all, your death hit me hard below my belt,
Like the lunch treat of full Tilapia and Ugali you often did to me in the Oasis of Lodwar town,

Life on earth is a precursor of death, and death a harbinger of eternity
An obvious quoith for the arrow of your soul, truly, amid the 24 elders of heaven,
An obvious station of your un-blemished soul, Godly defiance to the folly of your killers,
Stupid, imbecile, idiotic, buffoonish black Africans that killed you, their own Sun, educated son
They **** a milch-cow that saves them from kwashiorkor, marasmus and poverty, a black man is comfortable in despair of poverty where voodoo looms, but not in a clime where young-men are schooled, clean, educated, employed and rich-a promise of tomorrow,
They killed you but forgive them, they also killed Ken Saro Wiwa, Stephen Adongosi, Steve Biko, Martin Luther King, Jacob Juma, John Kituyi, Meshack Yebeyi, Dr. Masinde of Kanduyi-thence, they are like that, they **** their own solutions only to fall back into mire of poverty-these black idiots,

LISTENING TO NATURE SINGING
Andrew Juma
Hearing the wind  whistle  among the trees,
In the wee morning hours,

Or  the chirping birds' acappellas,
Among dripping leaves,

And the waterfalls cascading Rocky cliffs,
Clearly one believes that
Man has not written the best of songs,
Among non/ living things.

Somewhere in the town I heard a strange humming lullaby
That I've never heard before
As my heart beat It made a match to her humming lullaby
Her presence was unexpected
Now I feel protected
Just by having her warmth

She is the only one that understands my story
My worries and my sorrows
She gives me a feeling that no one else can

Her touch is so, magical
And the beat of her gentle touch is so classical
While she places some kisses on my lips I'm so,
gentle to her because her fragile touch reminds me that she is the only one

Possesing every inch of me
She modifies my disposition with her magical hands
So I hit play and wind her back

When my world seems gloomy
She arrives with the sun
And slowly she tosses the sun rays Reminding me that every is alright
I lay back and give her control

She beats the pain out of me
When i turn on my speakers
Her carresing hands so sensitive begin to touch

Exitement and anticipation builds
I hold her tenderly in my arms
And sink slowly away in her lyrical pureness
On our ecstatic trip to paradise

She meets all of my needs
So i ****** to the beat,move every part of me
Moment of total bliss
As I explore every inch of her curves

With her its a perfect world
With smooth lines she serenades
Chanting sweetly about my prowess
Twirling and jingling with fondness

Falling for her allures
I perform the hardest contortions
Marinade myself in her positive vibes
My hands tight around her

Rhythm changes,
We go high ,we go low
then higher like shooting stars
Breathlessly till we ******
And start on the free fall

She is my shoulder to cry on
My molly to feel mellow
Her love spell is so powerful
She does all that I please

She hypnotises me with intense lyrics
Reminds me of lost passion
Future love and magic
As we move along in slow steps

A love song
She is there whenever I desire her
She is forever youthful and beautiful
Her tune is full of promises

She lights up my blues
Laughs with me and cries with me
Till the beats fade away
Carrying with them my pensive moods

When the sun kisses the sky for good night
She makes sure that tonight the sky is full of star's and with the moon

Laying in my bed room before I sleep
She wraps her arms around me
Till we fall asleep

All I need in this world is her glitter touch of her soul
And her glitter soul
Forever in my world

DET & Andrew Juma ©2016

Listen love,
Today is Friday,
Ask Allah for me in your life,
Despite our family vendettas.
6/11/2020

There was Kidal and Keling and Kabalan,
Jajawa, Jabung, and Kahuripan,
Kudadu and Tumpabel, Lumajang,
And Wengher and Lewa by Gegelang.
Keta saw Sedang, they met at Blambangan,
Madura had Songenep, so Hasin Mataram;
Tuban, Pajang, Lasem, Keta, Lodaya,
Tulangbawang, Palembang, Dharmasraya!

Mateu asked Kwalu, why took it so long;
Kwalu told Mateu that the great king was mad,
said Tinggo and Wungpong in detail had gone.
For the Cirebon legion, the folk of the region,
They would not talk, so they rode for Kula Ngoro,
And there the people were bold in the mountains.
A woman came in, she was called Sunjurunga,
And she met with the men of Yunga.
The woman told a tale, saying it was her
Who took away the power of the king,
And she felt no remorse,
And if she had a chance again,
She would **** any king with a swipe of a hand!

There was Juma with the men of Yunga,
Who knew Hari and Bari and Sunga,
They knew Wewak the Weak of the Pambans,
And Hapu in the house of Wunga.
Pasip and Tumukawang, Nachalawang, Goyan,
Mingusang, Makun, Ngutubak, Noyan,
Kawai said Bari ought Bokamok not,
Tambora adjacent, Sumbawa went hot!

After Juma salah,
To Allah,
Beseeching HIM to make me walk without a crutch,
Without assistance on uneven roads,
I was literally whining to  Allah to give me back the quality of my life.
Then I heard a women in a wheel chair praying to Allah,
She was blind and deaf,
Her one leg was amputated,
Her body covered in rashes,
And she was being grateful to Allah for being alive,
Praying for others still lesser than her,
Tears filled my eyes,
Ungrateful me of his blessings,
Complaining of a minor inconvenience.
Looking at the other side of the coin I was truly blessed.
10/3/2024