THE EASTAFRICANPOET

Written by Kwani · November 25, 2008 End Of Year Open Mic Slam When: December 2nd 2008 Where: Club Soundd Time: From 7 PM Sharp The first 15 poets to register will get a chance to read / perform a 3 minute poetry piece.The audience will vote for the winner through an unriggable secret ballot FIRST PRIZE : Kshs 6000 Second and Third Prize: Books from Kwani? The audience is also a winner! A raffle will be drawn where you stand a chance to win Kwani 1, 2, or 3 DON’T MISS KWANI KRISMAS NEXT WEEK!

it's amazing how luck loves smiling upon my wretched self,I dropped by a friend's room and found this truly fab' book -IN THE WORDS OF NELSON MANDELA,complete with raw photos of the bigger than life MADIBA smiling in a way nobody could describe aptly.. Now I just can't seem to let go of this jewel of a book. But to be plain and simple,it's about MANDELA'S take on a whole lot of issues,actually all the issues that pertain to living;its amazing how normal talk can go on to be really revolutionary work that inspires so many people.. There is so much to say about this book but I wont tel it all;to the youth he says this; "Young people are capable,when aroused,of brining down towers of sppression and raisng banners of freedom" To be able to be lucky enough to be let into the mind of a man who towers over so many,is proving too much for me and my humble senses,each phrase I read hits me so hard that I have to pause and re-read it afresh in my mind. NELSON ...

You cupped my face And told me; If I ever felt lost I should only look And I’ll surely find you... You would be The soft breeze That gently ruffles my trousers And yet still The harsh wind That lashes at my face You said you’d be The morning rain That the grasses love And still the ghostly storm That tears down trees You told me You’d always be there As the sunlight on my skin And the darkness to my eyes You told me again and again that You’d always be here But now That the air stands still And the yellow sun Is chained behind clouds I realize how much of me you took with you

I POURED OUT TWO GLASSES OF TEA BUT DRANK BOTH. THIS SHELL OF A MAN CAN STILL TAKE SOME ICE. THE EARTH I'M WALKING IS SLOPPING GENTLY INTO A GRAVE.. THE JULY MIST THAT ELEGANTLY COVERS THE MOUNTAINS AHEAD; NOW BARRS MY VIEW. TONIGHT MIGHT JUST BE THE ONE, THE ONE ANTICIPATED NIGHT. THAI I FLOAT AWAY. BUT I'M FIGHTING HARD AND IN THIS FIGHT I'LL KEEP WISHING- WISHING THAT YOU COME BACK

Maurice Kirya 11-25-2008 20:00 at ROUGE KAMPALA ROAD, KAMPALA, +256 Cost: 10000 The Maurice Kirya Experience is a monthly showcase of live artistic talents which occurs on the last Tuesday of every month and features music, poetry and art. The Maurice Kirya Experience is a platform for new and established singers, musicians, poets and visual artists to showcase their talents in a warm supportive environment. We hope you will be able to come and Join The Artistry

Sunday Salon Nairobi A Prose Reading Series Featuring: Juliet Maruru Moraa Gitaa +2 Screen Writers from the Kenya Film Commission & Kwani Trust Screen Writing Workshop & Musician Maia Four readers Four unique voices In a tranquil outdoor setting 7-9pm Sunday 23rd November Kengeles, Lavington Green Entry Only KSh. 300 ABOUT THE FEATURED WRITERS & MUSICIAN Moraa Gitaa Moraa Gitaa was born, bred and raised in the port city of Mombasa. She has lived and worked in the coastal beach town all her life and only a year ago moved to Nairobi where she is a fulltime writer and is working on plans to initiate an organization that provides books for disadvantaged children residing in informal settlements and those challenged by dyslexia, a condition that had challenged her daughter. She attended the Aga Khan group of schools in Mombasa and studied Administration and IT at the Coast College of Commerce. ‘CRUCIBLE FOR SILVER AND FURNACE FOR GOLD’ is her debut novel published in Canada. She...

I couldnt pick her calls because I was busy all day.. But the mere mention of the word 'BUSY' is always enough to drill out her diamond tears and lying was never the best of my virtues, I'll tell it as it is. 'Hey baby;how was your day?' 'Good.' Deafening silence after the curt reply It's not all good. 'Well,thats all I needed to know have a splendid night, hope I'll catch you tomorrow..' With that I hung up and toppled onto my bed. But after a minute the cell rings and the name 'luvliest' is on my screen 'Hey..I was trying to ease my achy body..' She gets straight to it and doesnt mince her words 'You don't love me anymore.' Then the deafening silence 'You don't do me anymore you don't see me anymore and you don't even talk anymore' 'I do,I always have I've just been...' Damn! 'Say it as plainly as you can; you've been busy!' Her voice is breaking they must be dropping b...

guiltiness and shame don't walk these corridors anymore thre's no blame neither I feel the re-birth as a new being rises only righteousness lives here

HOW IT ALL WENT DOWN... A few words would aptly tell how the whole saga that is WAPI went down on the 8-11-08; "pathetic time management and disorganisation" I could go on and on about how great WAPI is but I will not,true WAPI discples will testify that WAPI is God-sent.. I got to view the WAPI FOCUS UGANDA poster in my campus and I tried googling it so I could set it on this blog but it was nowhere,I guess I should do it myself.. So its a Saturday and me and a pal have been running through a spoken word piece that we would like to perform and he has his lines on lock but mine are vapour in my head,all hazy and unclear... We got to the People's sapce at 11:07 and the stage hasn't even been set,boy were early..we head to the writer's tent and realise that nobody is showcasing their work as it has been in the last two WAPIs;there are no boards to exhibit our work so we improvise. At about 11:30 our poems are up on display and a couple of people drop by and criticis...

You should see my Nakato Large eyes and soot black lashes Waving humbly to the skies. Fine full lips Darkened by the hot groundnut soup That she loves to insanity You should see her… How she scoffs And hides her face When I whisper into her ears in public. Why touch past my hijab When it’s supposed to keep me away You should see her When she wails And tears doodle on her face As I smile to my triumphant self… You ought to see my Nakato When she’s happy. And tells me not to hurry. Yet she knows I’ve never been a fast one You should see her Living beside me

I met her at city square, beside and below the taxis hooted and sped off gradually. The men who worked for bitano and bibiri thought I looked OK. You thought sneakers on shorts was crazy. I should go and change then we would meet later. At the beach my friends stole clubs as I swallowed full smirnoffs . You thought alcohol wasn’t good. I thought I should go swim. It is warmer in there than here. I left you dancing and swam in my boxers. Later on I realized my swimsuit was my underwear. I took you back home without undies beneath my Owino jeans. In the waters I flirted with a girl. She swam in her bra and thongs. She let me touch and held me fast and easy. I wanted it better; she thought rubbers don’t work under water. We skinny dipped and held tight. You didn’t see me. Your sister said it was too late and I ought to take you home. She was furious but I made her smile when I said that I still liked her beans; the ones that gave me acute constipation. I left the country the next day,...

I remember how crazy you were over my brother And how crazy he went After he found out you and I were screwing. I remember cupping your full butt in the cold night. I told you I could have kissed you If my breath was right, Then I tried to justify it By telling you about my full day’s intoxicated sleep. You told me to hush. I said we could’ve gone to my room If it wasn’t so late. You began walking towards it. My auntie asked if I had eaten the next morning. I said plenty. You smiled when you had me say it...

The last time I saw you I was behind the library Sitting on the grass writing poetry. I saw you walking my way And thought that your belly was too fat lately. You wanted us to embrace but I didn’t. Then you wanted us to walk but again I thought different. You said I wasn’t the man you fell in love with. I thought you were bluffing You went away for 4 months internship. I called after a month And said I loved you but you kept silent. You wrote me a text And said it was only right for both of us to move on You broke my heart I failed to cry but wailed inside You said you’d try to love me again. I asked if you’d began missing me. You laughed loud and I felt good.

Vancouver rapper looks to his African roots When people think of Africa, they often think about poverty, hunger, and the HIV epidemic. But suffering is only half the story. What most people don't know about Africa is that there is a generation of youth coming up that's highly talented, creative, and motivated. All across the continent, this generation is channelling its energy and desire for change into hip-hop culture. It's not just a time of suffering in Africa, it's also a time of profound hope. Vancouver rapper Babaluku has witnessed this movement firsthand. Babaluku, aka Mr. Africa, was born in the city of Kampala, Uganda, and immigrated to Ontario when he was 12 years old. His rhymes speak to the experience of being caught between two different cultures””what it felt like to be a young African growing up in small-town Canada. As a show of solidarity with his homeland, Babaluku raps in his mother tongue, Luganda. He is one of the pioneers of Luga Flow Flavor, a mus...

she gave it to me too easily, now I go down on her too easily. she tastes like Cinnamon and rosemary..

Poetry Open Mic, Tuesday November This month’s Kwani? Poetry Open Mic will feature ‘Smitta’.Tony ‘smitta’ Mochama is a poet and journalist who lives and works in Nairobi. A Law graduate, Tony is also a vodka connoisseur, gossip columnist extraordinaire, and has a collection of short stories coming out soon titled – ‘The ruins down in Africa’. He has also been called a ‘literary gangster’, from time to rhyme. His collection of poetry, ‘What if I am a literary gangster?’ was published by Brown Bear Insignia in 2007. And the event coming on Election Day in the US, he have Obama as his theme. The event is hosted by Cindy Ogana and held every first Tuesday of the month at Club Soundd. Poets (not singers please) who wish to take part in the Open Mic session should attend the sound check strictly between 5 & 6 pm on the day of the event. No late entries will be accepted. Please bring a printout of your work with you. The event starts promptly at 7pm on Tuesday 7th October, and entry is on...