Category — Kenya

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Following on from Keguro…

A leadership that degrades its people is unfit to lead.
A leadership afraid of its people is unfit to lead.
A leadership indifferent to its people’s suffering is unfit to lead.
A leadership afraid of political critique is unfit to lead.
A leadership that betrays and dishonors the Constitution is unfit to lead.
A leadership that feeds on its people’s carcasses is unfit to lead.
A leadership that breaks its people’s bones is unfit to lead.
A leadership that eats while its people starve is unfit to lead.
A leadership that stands by and watches its police kill with impunity is unfit to lead.
A leadership that practices impunity is unfit to lead.

A leadership deaf and blind to its people’s needs is unfit to lead.

A leadership that stops peaceful protest is unfit to lead.

A leadership that curtails the freedoms of its people is unfit to lead.

A leadership that rides roughshod over its people’s rights is unfit to lead.

A leadership that lives in wealth while its people die in poverty is unfit to lead.

A leadership that doesn’t ensure equal rights for all is unfit to lead.

A leadership that allows and doesn’t combat corruption is unfit to lead.

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On International Women of Colour Day, I celebrate by highlighting the work of Magdalene Odundo, Professor of Ceramics at the University College for the Creative Arts.

I cherish the memory of a workshop I attended where Magdalene, soft spoken and charming, presented her work. We, the audience, gave a collective gasp of awe and admiration as we watched her hands adroitly create poetry from clay as she built a stunning pot from scratch – a process brilliantly executed in the most superbly simple way one could imagine.

Magdalene’s work has been exhibited in many places including the Crafts Council at the Victoria & Albert Museum, London, the Museum fur Kunst und Gewerbe, Hamburg and the Hood Museum of Art, Hanover, New Hampshire. Her work is also found in museums worldwide including the Smithsonian, the Gardiner Museum and in private collections. Due to their uniqueness and excellence, the works are sold for quite large sums of money – in 2006, for example, a piece of art was sold for £28,405.

If you look closely at her work, you can see the various forms of women represented; among them, flaring hips, the belly of a pregnant woman and a graceful long neck with the head elegantly tilted back.

Magdalene and her superlative art make me want to stand on a spire and tell the world: This is who we are. See what we are capable of.

Viva Magdalene.

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This is the house that hate built

This is the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the machete
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the man
That used the machete
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the gun
That killed the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the policeman
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the politician
That gave the order
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the mob
That confronted the politician
That gave the order
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the priest
That calmed the mob
That confronted the politician
That gave the order
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

This is the coffin
That carried the priest
That calmed the mob
That confronted the politician
That gave the order
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built.

These are the people
That mourned and wailed
That bore the coffin
That carried the priest
That calmed the mob
That confronted the politician
That gave the order
That shot the man
That killed the boy
That threw the rock
That lay in the house that hate built

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we hear a woman’s raped every
30 minutes this fact needs to be
adjusted as 56 & more
many more were assaulted
inside the first 2 days of
premeditated brutality
of the elephants’ skirmish

their bodies are the frontline
where foes are belittled
& age-old grudges viciously settled

meanwhile rallies sermonise
peacemakers negotiate &
dealmakers mediate
they play the blame game who instigated
what who killed whom excuse me while
i spit & yet do not speak
of the trauma & the terror
& shun the soundless screams of
untold others who in mute silence suffer
they talk about democracy
about ethnocracy autocracy
& just about any cracy you can think of
malevolence shrouded in words
while powerless women little girls
boys & men are abused what
do they know about sacrilege how much
do they care about the shame & humiliation?
how many little girls did you rape today baba?
we know bodies may be healed but
spirit bruises soul lacerations are
indelible quotidian &
never ever leave your side

their bodies are a battlefield
whose destruction’s a conscious
act of ethnic cleansing

in some place we hear
the price for one rape is a goat how
many goats for gang rapes or
for sodomised little boys
we know this isn’t about gratification
nor passion & we are aware of the imperative
revenge domination control
opportunism thuggery it
really doesn’t really matter as the
sacrifice’s been made
the earth’s tasted their blood
their tears soak the ground
mission accomplished
they ask what they should do
as they pray for divine reckoning &
vengeance of cosmic magnitude
they live in constant sorrow & in dread of the hatred spewing
men with rungus for fists & serrated panga eyes
do they not feel pain when you
hurt them do they not bleed when you defile them?

their bodies are a battle ground
their violation
a weapon of war their
bodies are a combat zone
their degradation a
weapon of mass destruction

baba = father
rungus = clubs
panga = machete

First published in Pambazuka

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I dreamed of death last night
Chaotically strewn corpses
Decomposing body parts

I dreamed of death last night
My mind buzzed ceaselessly
Befuddled by the sickening reek of death

I dreamed of death last night
With a requiem my heart awoke battered &
Frayed & welcomed me to
The eighth circle of hell
Where death and life are as one
Kyrie eleison
Lord have mercy
I was one with fraudsters & lechers
Evil brutes &
Charlatans
Souls submerged in muck
Confidence tricksters
Dastardly crooks
Dodgy merchants &
The breeders of hatred and discord
Shady politicians &
Devious advisers
Bogus prophets
So twisted they walked backwards

All hope was forsaken

I dread the night

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Intoxicated by a fleeting madness
A triumphant thrill courses through his veins
Ears deaf to the wails of desperation
Eyes blind to the sight of destruction
He hurls the child back inside the blazing church

Without a backward glance he walks away
Blood lust sated

Will he sleep that night?
Will he dream that night?
Will he dream of victory
Of vanquished enemies
The stench of burning flesh
Rivers of blood
Or the pain-ravaged faces of babies?

When all is done and said
Will he ever delight at the sound of children’s laughter?

‘We told them to come out of the church, but they locked the door … So we burned them

kenyaelection07+poetry

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This is the time

This is the time of the whirlwind

The coming of uncertainty

The establishment of arrogance

The occurrence of intransigence

The naming of indifference

The institution of the indefinite

The creation of the unknown

This is the time of turmoil

The beginning of the end?

kenyaelection07+poetry

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This song on the podcast was originally composed by Fadhili Williams (I think) and later sung by the Acapella group – SANADI – who changed the words to reflect Kenya’s current (mambo) status. Sung here by yours truly and uaridi.

NB: Please note that an essential requirement is that while listening to the song, you must sing (or even hum) along. Go on. Give it a go.

KIJANA

Kijana
Tangu umepotea
Kule rahani
Rudi upesi x2

Kijana
Rudi uone
Nchi yetu Kenya
Sasa kweli
Mambo
Yameharibika x2

Kijana
Ile Kenya yetu
Tulioipagania
Sasa imeuzwa x2

Kijana
Rudi uone
Nchi yetu Kenya
Mabepari wa Marekani
Ndio watawala x2

Kijana
Hii Kenya yetu
Ya watoto wetu
Tutaikomboa X2

Kijana
Rudi upesi
Nchi yetu Kenya
Wafanya kazi na wakulima
Wataikomboa X2

Brief translation
The song is a call to Kenyans. The country our freedom fighters died for has been sold to imperialism and can only be liberated by collective effort.

Thank you, Mr. Acrobat for the assistance in creating this podcast.

Update on the KBW card: I saw, I signed and sent off to the next victim.

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