THE EASTAFRICANPOET

I almost had her almost had one to stick by me, to lay low and run mad with me.. I almost had one to tell my issues, to listen to her issues and to share my issues.. I almost had her...

Mama didn't tell, she never taught me, she simply let me run and fly free.. but mama didnt tell she never taught me that to run and fly free; I must first know no peace

"They cook their hair with hot iron and pull it hard So that it may grow long. Then they rope the hair on wooden pens like a billy goat brought for the sacrifice struggling to free itself. They fry their hair in boiling oil as if it were locusts and the hair sizzles. It cries aloud in sharp pain as it is pulled and stretched and the vigorous and healthy hair, Curly, springy and thick that glistens in the sunshine Is left listless and dead." "The Graceful Giraffe Cannot Become a Monkey," Song of Lawino and Song of Ocol, 1988 Okot P 'Bitek,

She strums Like her snaky fingers were meant for no other than her guitar, While she sucks in the air In a way so divine then lets it all go In rhymes that marry her wailing guitar So faithfully and So truly.. so truly that her tears flow; tears that are her soul’s dew thawing away Washing, cleansing and bathing her.. Eroding away the muck that describes her life. The beats remain the only drug that her troubled world knows and understands Music…

The scene from his hotel room screen in Nakuru still fills his mind. Let’s call him M. He’s from Muranga, he still drives the Datsun 120 Y that he bought in 1972 when he was a twenty two year old boy, and he’s got a family in the outskirts of Eldoret where his wife runs the family farm (cows and wheat) that he bought in 1982 from a white man fleeing the coup that “never happened,” as he is fond of saying. “So I got the farm cheap.” That was 1982. M was a sharp hustler from Muranga, now he’s grown into an old-ish respectable farmer, 57 years in age, a bit of a sage and a scrooge who in-spite of his Shs.3 million in cash in Equity Bank (savings, he takes no loans) still drives a Datsun 120 Y, and why, till last night, he had never stayed at a hotel! He did now, in the fiery first days of 2008, at a place called Midlands Hotel because he has heard that the land is no longer safe. There was a television set in the hotel room with one of those fancy new satellites that one finds everywhere ...

Kwani Trust is inviting you to Kwani? Open Mic on 3rd March 2009 7pm at Club Soundd, Hamilton House Kaunda Street . Entry ksh 100/- only. Featured Poet will be Patroba a participant of Kwani? Krismas who came in 4th. Patroba is a 22 year old Nairobi based poet and a college student. He has been writing poems for the past three years, but started poetry perfomce in 2007. He has performed at forums such as Nu metro Poets club at the Junction, Kwani Open Mic at Clubb Soundd, Amplified Tongues at Mai Loan, WaPI amongst other venues. He has also participated in the Kwani Krismas slam and the Slam Africa poetry competitions. Open Mic slots are open from 6pm all are welcome to register. Also look out for Kwani? 5 part 1 launch on 5th March 2009 6.30pm at Nu Metro Junction, Ngong Rd. Entry free KARIBUNI NB: Books to be won at Kwani? Open Mic

Kwani? 05,Part 1,Editorial Written by Kwani · March 1, 2009 An Apprenticeship in Ethnicity: A Time Beyond The Writer Never let the facts get in the way of the truth. Old Creative Non-Fiction truism … In the first week of November 2007, Kwani Trust held a series of creative non-fiction workshops - the purpose: to discuss and reinforce elements of storytelling in of reporting the Kenyan elections of 2007. A group of budding journalists and writers unpublished in Kwani were invited. Though excited with the premise of using ‘fictive’ and ‘literary’ elements in reportage, the journalists present were firmly held in the thrall of the 5 W’s and a H, ‘objective journalism’ school’s mantra. With minds tuned to: ‘Police are investigating reports of a man who was reported to have bitten a dog on Kimathi Street yesterday’; they were skeptical of the whole ‘literary’ premise. The workshop, if anything, for them was a vacation from police/City Council beat reality; at best, some hoped the workshop w...