ANIMA ANIMUS

Every generation wants to think they are making a difference, That somehow the future is better But the truth is some things never change. And maybe that too is what the story needs.

Let’s criticize us as Kenyan. Why? You may have missed the 36 dead in Mandera and the statement from the government on how we need to take care of us. That practically summarizes security in Kenya currently and in many resent years. But let’s focus on just Nairobi.

You have been missed you sexy thing. I have a confession that has escaped my bravery the past years. So, let me be the first to tell you if no one does. You were the first I met and since, the bias has favored your presence till now.

In the spirit of celebrations I cannot relate to having those of my ancestors lost somewhere in history and a perfect excuse to say messed up things, let's free style on things labeled 'dark'.

Greetings beautiful people, I shall get straight to it. So after spending the weekend with representatives from all three generations of my family. Discussions were not as limited as usual, meaning things are getting easier but let us save that for another day.  Mum happens to be one of the most socially conscious persons I have met and to be honest, since my boycott from Kenyan media 2 years ago she is my main reporter on how the government has 'shocked' its people once more. This one took me aback too.

Am having one of those famous Kenyan moments where you spend 2 hours waiting for someone, when an old acquaintance comes into the bar and takes the sit next to me.

So I am fighting my writing block with all that I have, and the universe has been kind with reminders. So the past month I have been in very artistic spaces, met the best of creative minds in person and writings, ran into old poetic literate souls and spent more time thinking of my writing than hot, black, sweet coffee. So am gonna go with the recurring advice. “Keep writing, just pick your pen or fingers and get to putting it down. “ :-)

Once upon a time, there lived groups and communities of people in lands that had names famous to the next three ridges only, the land we all know as Kenya. Laws, rules and instructions existed. Not as many as we currently have but most of the innate ones that kept you from stabbing a person and stealing your mothers beads. There was communal survival, needs were the force behind life; farm, hunt, worship, trade, dance, talk, the kind of things that brought continuity and comfort in living. Each of this and many more elements of their time grew and evolved simultaneously with their interactions and biology, my once starts in the late years of 1800. Knock knock! And comes in a white stranger, he tells tales of his far away land and most open their huts in the beautiful African hospitality we still strive to imagine. The notion of just us and the 100km-away neighbor’s existence starts to erode. He painted pictures of science, art, religion, government and culture li

As western as the bible, our entertainment, expression and language As queer as the fashion and art we enjoy in courage As ordinary as our money and the passion in your rage So is my will to share these words with all the tranquility I can manage Riddle me this; why are our people dying while we bicker about same-sex marriage? Why are lesbian girls raped with family approval in their bedroom bondage? Forget the pun and think of the siblings holding their ears at night and crying at school hoping somebody hears their plea for understanding In another town, they walk past the burnt boys’ bodies like other left-over’s in their garbage

hot pink: sexuality red: life orange: healing yellow: sunlight green: nature turquoise: magic/art indigo/blue: serenity/harmony violet: spirit Above is the first design of the LGBTI flag as created and presented by Gilbert Baker on June 15 th 1978 at the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Parade, while his inspiration towards the design is still debated and sensationalized in myths that all undermine the beauty of the thoughts he attached to the colors as you see above.

  Clinging to my wishing powers, am dearly hoping this will not be yet another failure, I will dance to South African music all day if this actually gets to be posted by these shy fingers of mine. My point might land in the next sentence, kindly hold your breathe and bear with me as I grasp to the straws of my latitude hoping to turn this rant in my head into a blog.