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The current political mood in Kenya is sombre and tense given the manner in which the former prime minster Raila Odinga is pushing for mass action destined to be held on 7th July of this year; 2014.He has labeled this day as saba saba day, in memory of former democratic struggles that were held on a similar date in the past by the then leaders like Martin shikuku, Masinde Muliro, Charlese Rubia and Keneth Matiba, just but to mention a few. The spirit of this political move has been inculcated into Odinga motivation during his holiday trip in America in the past three months. And the entire globalectics is eked on Raila’s personal advantages that Kenya and America has had soared relations because of Kenya’s substantial business dealings with China.
Tenseness of political feelings that are overtly observed in sombre moods of some Kenyans is based on the fresh memories of similar political behavior displayed by the same Raila Odinga in a few years before post election violence that erupted after 2007 elections. By inference,   Raila has nothing very critical that he wants to solve for Kenyans but he is only   aiming at execution of a very simple Machiavellian logic; He wants to use the mass actions to provoke international sympathy for himself as at the same time he anchors himself for the next presidential race which is barely three years to come.
It is a fact that there are some teething problems of political policy in Kenya. Like inferiority of the judiciary, biasness of the electoral institutions, insecurity, joblessness and tribalism as well as political cronyinsm.But these are usual features of politics in a developing country. They are the same things that Raila Odinga and Carol Omondi used as tools of maintaining power when the former was the prime minster and the later his aide de camp.
Effective solution to any  failures in public policy or even dysfunction in the public institution  is  usually what President Uhuru Kenyatta suggested; gentle dialogue by political representatives over a cup of tea, a class of wine , a tumbler of water or even a bottle of tusker not necessary raucous and  Arab spring like violent politicking at Kasarani grounds or Uhuru park. Raila only wants to misuse the poor masses in Kenya, the masses that are already infiltrated with deep sense of tribalism, to pile pressure on the incumbent government for his future political advantages that will go with presidential bidding. This is not reasonable.
Raila Odinga has a unique political psychology. Let me term it extra-masculinity. He has always portrayed a political signal that when he is not in power then there is no democracy in kenya.He is like Coriolanus and John Falstaff of Shakespeare. Thus by premise Raila Odinga suffers from a weakness in political thinking which can logically be branded political falstaffity. This is so when we subjectively analyze his public political behavior  in relation to Moi, Wamalwa, and Kibaki. And is still so when we soberly recognize some institutional success president Uhuru Kenya has registered during his two years as a president of Kenya. Uhuru has scored hundred percent on devolution, availability and open governance. He has already displayed promising efforts when it comes to infrastructural investiments.This is a kind the president that needs to be mentored through genuine support and criticism other than mudslinging him in every public rally  attended by masses on heat of ethnic political consciousness.
My present and tangible reason for this position is that already businessmen of kikuyu and kalenjin origin who of-course belong to Uhuru Kenyatta’s bandwagon are  now not travelling to kisumu, similarly Luos belonging  to Raila’s camp are not free in Eldoret town and Naivasha. Obviously business activities will also close on saba saba day of July 7th and as a matter of fact some people will suscetain mayhem, looted or even loose their lives. All these will happen because Raila Odinga has not seen a more reasonable way of carrying out national dialogue.


(Alexander k Opicho
Eldoret, Kenya).
SirDlova May 2014
I'm No born free
I tasted the dust of apartheid
My mother was hiding behind the trees screaming for help
No one was there
No time to sleep
We were cursed for struggle
My father never smiled when my mother would say "the baby is kicking"
Cause he knew,it wasn't the kick of joy
It wasn't a sign of being a soccer star
It was the struggle!

1990 Mandela was out of prison
1993 I was born
1994 the Dom's were free
No more Dom-pass,but not uhuru still
Innocent souls were lost
What was the fighting worth for?

I can forgive but never forget
When De klert called black fools
He said they do nothing but barking
We turned to dogs now

This is for Steve Biko
Chris Hani
Hector Paterson
Raymond mhlaba

Let not my skin define who I am
Let not the earth describe me
I know my future because of my history
I was raised in a town of fallen angels
Where blacks were deceived
Whites felt free
Turn the lights off we all the same colour
Don't turn them on
I want my son to know the history
But to not repeat it.

They say follow your leader
How can you follow corruption?
Zuma this zuma that
Its all illusion
I'll only follow u twitter
I want you to retweet all the ish I'll be posting about you,the ******,The Nkandla part,The Cheating,The Art and the bunch of wives

Yes I voted,I still don't know why I voted
Helen Zille only speaks xhosa in time of elections
Jacob Zuma gives free taxis only to the voting station
Julius Malema will bring apartheid back it is said on radio stations

Mandela spent most time in hospital
All of a sudden his dead
Was he even in jail before?
Oscar Pistorius ran to ****
His now a criminal.

Mandela note on my hand
But valueless

Our economy is dying
Our world is dying

My Dear South Africa..No Power!
#The reason why I was kicking in my mothers womb
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


Do you remember one era in Kenya?
During the dark days of dictatorship
When Daniel arap Moi
Was the tyrannical president of Kenya
And darkness of leadership
Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño
When forty district commissioners
Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins?
Whose main work was to spy and terrorize
As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy
Yoke of state terror of tribal torment
When the president claims that
He was not aware of such tyranny,

When we used to sing a lame poem
Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo!
On empty stomachs with no hope of food
No hope of jobs or even education
Street children swelling on the street
In total political nonchalance of arap Moi
As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths
In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was
Overfunded by the poor tax payers money,

Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are
With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience
As you are armed to teeth with modern education
**** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy
Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices
The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya
Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever
Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president
Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya,
Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser
Ignore him and embrace Kenyans
For common future happiness
Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different
He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli
His full badness is measured in absurdity
Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed
Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders
Of Kenya of yore and today,
Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became
A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension
Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap
Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial
Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing
He looks for them on daily circadian
But once he nears their political pigeonhole
Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga!

President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect
You won’t get a pretext to say that
I was not aware or not informed
Please dear darling of the people
The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes
Novate Moi with the people
And your legacy will smile.
douglas chesa Feb 2012
I have been drinking wine
To douse the burning tip of my mind
Worries chewing at my nerves
Like the filter end of a rich Havana cigar
Woes of this world turn my whiskers
Into drab willows of misery
My nights into endless nightmares
And my thoughts rattling and jarring
Like the business end of a mechanical hammer.

Dreams clad in limp loincloth
Revisit me from the dark
Urns of history
The salad days of our beings
And their neauseating euphoria
When in drunken trance we siezed
Conscience by her arms
And threw her on her back
Splayed her legs
And smacked our lips
As blood spurt out...
I wipe my mind with the back of my hand
Trying
To brush away the dregs of the sordid rituals
We once enshrined.

A plump shiny green bottle
Buzzes around my mind irritating
Reminding me of Death
Hanging mockingly
Like a pendulum over my mind seducing
''O Sweet Carrion
You are food for the elders!''
And my sins in their hordes shimmer
A deathly pale round the nooze
Suspended from blushing heaven's bottom
My mind's eyes shed crystal tears
Giving away bucketfuls of Chiyadzwa diamonds to regain
Long gone and lost innocence.

I shared a bottle of wine
With my new-found friend, Today
Clinking glasses and minds
Then a greenbottle in full flight
Was caught between the grinding bellies
Of our glasses and minds
Bloodied fleshrot bespattered our intelligence
And our minds rushed to the wash basins retching
A brush with the fetid breath of the past
Left the gums of my mind barren and obscene
And together with newfound friend, Today
We covered our private parts with our hands
Ashamed
At the ****** of our thoughts.

She knocked at the door of my mind
Eyes shadowed in wet grey paint
Lips smudged in scarlet smiled at me
A Good Morning
My palm hiding the discoloured teeth
Of my inner-self
I muffled a Good Mourning to her, but
I felt a warmth spreading
At the base of my belly
Her milky-white mouthful was inviting
A milkyway blaze trailing into deep future
''I will flirt with her'' my mind whispered
But then the rasping sandpaper touch of her lips
Bruised and bloodied my thoughts
And I saw red at the future.

I must have swooned
From the First Lady's fistkisses of philanthropy
Doling out sweet nothings and promises
At a ceremony sheathed in royal pomp and dignity
Where the guests dressed like Harlequins
Mesmerised us with the crablike dance
And flummoxed O poor we
With democratic mumbo-jumbo and lingo
And the Povo touched with feeling
Donated oceanfuls of diamond tears
And their sincere prayers a mutter flutter
Into the heavens for beloved leaders.

I broke Biltong , my past, into the ***
To give life to ailing friend, Today
With my fingernail I peeled off
The tomatoe's tough ruddy jacket
To make sauce
And I heard a rumble of objection
From the August House
And the Mujibhas and Chimbwidos' angry yawn
Gave a chilli spice to the dish
And the food touching Today 's lips
He sneezed and broke wind
Startling ghosts of old nostalgic memories
That had took seats at the kitchen table
To wing away to the scrapyard
Their home beyond the rusting horizon.

Perched on the anthill of anticipation
I roll my thoughts
Into a big joint of mbanje
I **** and grey fading puffs
Of wishes spiral into the bored sky
Each a crippled dream
That was bulldozed at Churu Farm
An ambitious dream that was displaced
By the Operation Murambatsvina
A dream that lost an eye and limb in the food riots
A dream that lost its ***** at university
A dream that fell from the 11th floor at the Towers
Into the Taxman's hat
A dream that drowned in the opaque beer tank
At the Uhuru celebrations
A dream that lost its breath
On top of another man's wife in Mbare
A dream dumped and disowned
Only to find home at the bottom of the Blair toilet...
To find home in the sympathetic clicks
Of poets who have lost their voices.

The stub is burning my fingers
Minds run out of fuel and fire
The angry verbal lash
Of the emotionally wounded
Is a stub licking back at the wielder
To be snuffed out and discarded
On the ash tray of hopelessness
The grave yard that houses all
Once active minds.

-dougwa-
In South Africa colonialism shake hands with racism
                       Nepotism dines with poverty.
Humanity is substituted by timidity thus fulfilled by grief and materialism.
                     Democracy swallowed suffering,
                  But the flavour must have been strong,
             20 years later we still witness  the after taste.
            This day(June 16th) must mean only one thing to us youth,
                 If we sit back and pretend to be polishing our pots,
                         We will cook the pellets of the shinning ***,

                                 The crops are exploited out there...

Not yet UhUrU…
ISSAI MASHINGO Jun 2014
Taifa haliwezi kuwa na maendeleo ikosekanapo hekima,
Nchi haiwezi kuwa na chakula pasipo wakulima,
Jamii haiwezi pata maendeleo pasipo kujituma,
Siasa yetu leo ni ya kuwasha na kuzima,
Maneno yasemwayo hayaingii akilini mwa mtu mzima,
Madaraka wanajipatia na vyeo kwa lazima,
Hawajali ya jana wala leo wanajali shibe yao,
Wanalimbikiza mali kwa miradi ya wanao,
Wanaikandamiza haki kwa kutumia elimu yao,
Demokrasia imekuwa kinga yao dhidi ya ufisadi wao,
Siasa imekuwa nyimbo tena zile za mwambao,
Wakisemana kwa mafumbo wanajuana wao,
Wanakaa majukwaani na makubwa yao matumbo,
Mzee alisema fumbo mfumbie mjinga,
Busara na hekima ni kumsikiliza anaye kupinga,
Maana hoja zake zawezekana zikawa za kujenga,
Utajuaje siri ya adui yako bila kumpenda,
Kamwe huwezi kushinda mechi kwa kujua kupiga chenga,
Kamwe huwezi kuwa na nguvu kwa kujitenga,
Naomba tukazane nchi yetu kuijenga,
Tukipamba na maadui maradhi umasikini na ujinga,
Sio kuyasifia mema ili madhaifu kuyapamba,
Ila ukweli kuusema bali tukitumia hekima,
Ikosekanapo kamba huwezi teka maji yakisima,
Ikosekanapo nanga huzamisha meli nzima,
Kuwa na vingi si kuishi kwa kujinyima,
Unapojenga msingi katu huwezi kurudi nyuma,
Mkulima mzuri hutegemea mbivu kuzichuma,
Yule aliye mvivu kamwe hawezi kujituma,
Daima yeye aliye msikivu hujifunza na kuelewa,
Ila Yule aliye mvivu hutegemea ngekewa,
Wanasiasa hulalamika kana kwaamba wanaonewa,
Ukweli ni kwamba wanatumia vibaya uhuru waliopewa,
Daima taifa haliwezi endelea ikosekanapo hekima.
© issai
written in my native language or i should say  my mother tongue the language used is Swahili which is my national language am a Tanzanian for those who don't know where that is found its found its in East Africa if there is an option of translating this please do its a good poem and its my first since i have started writing poetry i have never used Swahili this is my first poem in Swahili.........!!!!!
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
I am mama Africa, mother of humanity
My soul flows in all people in all places
I am Queen of Shebah the essence of beauty
You see me in people, people of all races.

I am mama Africa yes, I'm the Ashanti Gold
look at my jet black soul, I am forever young
I am ancient, dark, golden glorious to behold
Akwaba my children, sing me the Ebone song.

I am mama Africa, I gave birth to Mozambique
See all my plains spread from ducor to Cairo
Green my fertile soil, dark my soul so unique
I am mama Africa, roots of mount Kilimanjaro.

I am mama Africa, adorned with wealth infinite
Watch my strides, I represent perpetual grace
Hear me my children, cease to fight and unite
Come all ye spirits of Uhuru ,all I want is peace .
The Continent,the people and the richness and bounty of it cultures and peoples...all encapsulated in this beautiful poem which evokes the spirits of Uhuru ,the Masai warriors .the MAU MAU and so much more..this my Africa !
Babatunde Raimi Jul 2020
They ride on celestial chariots
Belonging to "Class Untouchables"
They move with audacious swagger
So powerful, yet culpable
We all admited their courage and zest
But wait! If Naija is not a joke
How can a Parrot arrest the mighty Eagle?

The Eagle is quick to label
Especially when a match stick is missing
Now that the vault is desecrated
Where are the labels that shows it all
Crime, case connected to, and scene of crime?
This, surely, is a sacrilege

Let's see where this pendulum swings
That we play not judge, jury and executioner
If the Parrot can arrest the Eagle
And the hunter is becoming the hunted
Does it mean Elephants can fly in our Nation?
Or a victory for democracy?

We say no to hunger strike
Lest they play the ulcer card
And then apply for medical attention
Hunger strike, while some are held without trial
"Na here we go judge the matter"
Lesson learnt, none is greater than the law

Many a people fast compulsorily
Not because we are religious or spiritual
But for lack of what to eat
Yet you **** our economy with impunity
You have looted our looted funds
So, it's no more "Uhuru" as "Aluta continua"
And surely, "Victoria ascerta"
Nigel Obiya Mar 2013
Uhuru Kenyatta... entertaining, eloquent... and we all know he smokes ****... did not vote for him, but I congratulate him and I'm excited about the idea of having him as my president for the next five years.

Cheers Uheezy...
She was only in the mid of her age
When her womanhood was in the prime
That her husband died, died in the bush
He was fighting guerrilla war, for freedom of his country
Freedom of fatherland Africa, when the snake sank its fangs,
The two deadly poisonous fangs in to the flesh of his thighs,
The puff adder poison overwhelmed his blood, he dropped dead,
His ***** instantly erecting with the last bullet,
Bullet of fertility which he had preserved for her,
To fertilize her egg for the last chance,
On which they could sire a child of freedom
And call it Uhuru, liberte, Freheit or Freedom,
She heard of it and she mourned, with deep grief
Fearing for her future life without the husband,
The only one, father of her five sons,
Him who broke her virginity in one afternoon
In the fields under the canopy of a bush thicket,
He broke her virginity with electric like energy
In the stiffness of his ***** African *****,
She wailed with sweetness of sensuousness
Clinking on his muscular and warm body,
Twinning her legs around his wonderful waist,
In libidinous foretaste of her soon wedding,
She remembers all these in cacotopian bitterness.

On getting news of his death, in the bush,
She swore to herself to remain pure till her death,
She kept on washing his clothes for years and years,
Preparing and preserving food for him every evening,
She often played *** with him in her sweet dreams,
She ironed his clothes and brushed his shoes for years,
He often came in the night, to give her baby talk,
She still wrote love letters to him via the address;
Po box, care of death in the city of his grave,
She did all these for decades after his death.
Kabelo Maverick Mar 2018
Afraid to do
Abate? you mute
Arcade you grew
Astray you too?
Again you lose

I pray you do
Someday you too
Attain Guru
And stay true to
The way, huru
I say, you do…

Again, you do!
mvrk©
grrooooming and backing wearing and ruff tide tearing ahhh I'm trying to catch onto the sentiment but it passes away from my lips, I am left in the trenches ,  I am left to take on my own tyoe of instrumental twist, taking in the twists, anticipating the next adventure, attempting to throw down into the river with the gators, smiling up at me, in theist little baseball caps,they reach out for their meat of th eday, st

anticipation, anticipation, the black uhuru has a unique sound to them, I feel like I'm listening to something very exotic, it is very alluring

anticipation, anticpation, just at the tip of a tounge, more tickling than precum, no, its a dip, its a small little cusp into river, yeah, into the river

anticipation, I cannot stand it, I'm getting sick of always making it work in my direction, I am tired of not being able to be tired, I wish that my mind would rest, but I feel like I am onto some sort of plan

the times stare ant me, and those who are closest to me understand a few things but there are others that they would not understand, not even my therapist understands, which really makes me feel crazy
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
I am Kunta Kanti, here is my story,
I came from the kingdom of Jubaru,
I'm the most famous Black male slave in history.
Before freedom and just before uhuru,
I came here chained as helpless as a slave
***** changed my identity and named me Toby
On my knees I begged my dreads not to shave
He did and from then on ,his rules I decided never to obey.

I was brought here chained from my toes to neck .
Lying in my own filths and panting for some air .
Look at how *****'s whips ruined my back ,
Many times in anguish I wondered if this was fair
Fair or not, the damage has been done,
I am a warrior, so for me don't you ever be sorry !
Someday my scars ,this cotton field will all be gone ,
I'm not Toby, call me Kunta Kanti  , and this is my story !
And I thought ,
What best gift I could give my grandsons to remember me by,
As I live in Tanzania I invited them to climb Mt Kilimanjaro,
The highest mountain in Africa,
They scaled up to Uhuru Peak at 5895 meters and back to Horombo camp in just four days.
They said it was an awesome experience.
Tomorrow I will send them to Zanzibar,
Their grandfathers birthplace,
To enjoy its beautiful white beaches,
Jet skiing, snorkeling,  and swimming with the dolphins,
Not to forget Old Stone Town, with its Arab and kiswahili culture,
Narrow alleys,
A must to spend the evening at Forodhani ,
And enjoy its foodstalls.
28/7/2024

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