Lifes' files

 My brother Nick- was my greatest source of strength, and amplitude. I still think about him often, more than I should. I can't go a day without having him on my thoughts. I sometimes wish he were here, even for a moment, so we can do proper farewells. Sometimes, it makes me sad though, cause Nick being gone, a certain waft of sadness creeps in. The man was not good, he was great. Everyday, I think how great an uncle to Maya he'd become. He met her once, in her infant gear and I knew they'd get along. The girl was full of  sleep, cry and play. They'd definitely get along. One day, I might get to show her a picture of him, watch her curiosity grow and ask her what she thinks of the man.  Maybe she'd look into his picture frame and wonder, what made the man tick. He would seem peaceful, and besides they'd be some quiet about him in the picture. Some sort of tranquility, amidst the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Maya and I will roll down the years. I hope t...

May had the feels - of a sojourn, some fickle light, some laughter, and coffee, and deprivation. It was a perfect balance of good and better, and moments almost clandestine. Some situations you could reel about, be mad about, and get excited about, but in your inner self. There was always that moment that had you thinking about your life, the wrong choices you probably made, the bills you had to settle, and the horrendous battle with adulting. With adulting, only your parents care if you live or die, if you eat or starve, if you go to church or not, if you have a job, and if you have a roof over your head.  They are the perfect weapon against egregious spirits. As if their supplications do not repel all troubles furnished against you, those humans ensure that your cup is filled with overflowing grace, and your basket is full of bread, greens, cabbages, beans, tomatoes, and maize. They make sure that you are set for a couple of days. If you are happy, and you have eaten to your fill...

If Today Never Comes (In Memoriam)  If today never comes And I don't wake up to your cheer And you are so full of fear If lifeless and numb on my bed I lay With so much left to say A little longer I would have loved to stay  So much I wish I'd still be in the fray If today never comes And I haven't the time to bid you farewell Don't you fret e'en when up your eyes well If your heart is full of sorrow And you feel the pain in the marrow If you read my file and you are left with a burrow I know, I surely know, it shall be well in the morrow If today never comes And I do not get the chance to write Just know I have been called to rite So many things I had within sight Yet, here I am, with robes so white Leaving behind the warmth of the night And the embers you set alight If today never comes Please do not soak in tears for me brother If I don't get to text in the morning And you are deep in mourning Once you have set up my tombstone Inscribe the following words:- ...

Much has been written about Magufuli, and there’s isn’t much of a chance that a picture may go wrong. Among his contemporaries, he was rued for his brisk. Suddenly, how did a peasant from Chato somewhere in Northern Tanzania make it to the highest table of Tanzanian politics? But then again, there’s something about Northern Tanzania and the presidency, it seems. Even in death, and like Nyerere, he is the man of the moment. Mostly for the right reasons.  Photo: Courtesy He died while in office, a year into his second term as president. Suluhu, who had subordinated him, took over becoming East Africa’s first woman president. There’s so much to write about the man- his unorthodox ways of governing a country, his religious indoctrinations, his work ethic, his drive, and his nationalism.  When you have as much to write, but sometimes you just can’t, is a perfect picture of Magufuli’s Tanzania. “Tukutane Paradiso Meko! Umenihangaisha sana wewe! Bado Bashiru na Bashite sasa…,” ...

  From Kisii, the road winds up and forth, across a panorama of green trees and sunbathed sheets of peasant homes, and beyond herds of livestock bellowing in their hundreds; alive and chewing cud. Further, Tegunot lies at the summit of hills and ranges with its nonchalant grace yet; Londiani lies west and is a vast jungle of brick and tarmac. Tegunot is at the edge of the hilltops flaunting the Western Mau. It is home to a deranged forest complex; a lush belt of eucalyptus, cypress and oak trees, brimming springs, and a robust peasant economy. The locals here farm corn, and cereals – and rear cows, goats, sheep, donkeys, and poultry. A cup of milk goes for a paltry ten shillings. It was in this sleepy village where he grew up and made his cut. Beyond the great mountain ranges, and the alleys that iterated below, a river snaked downstream from the tip of the Mau. It was in this river where, as a boy and in the company of his peers he swam, fetched water, and watered the animals. But...

  In matters Kenyan politics, Tinga is that brusque know-it-all bully in the school. Walks around with unkempt hair, rarely tucks in his shirt, hits out at everybody at the slightest or no provocation and never apologizes. He is, however, loved by his classroom majority for his indecent jokes about the school administration and for his enviable football skills. Everybody agrees he is an excellent footballer despite the fact that he has scored blanks in virtually all major interclass competitions. He has been the de facto captain and the “ever-fit” most reliable striker for his class but has never led them to a single trophy. He has shielded himself from ridicule by a surrounding himself with hangers on that form the school’s (read Tinga’s ) cheering squad. His teammates, since form one, have accused him of selfishness and gross violations of team ethics. He lacks the ability to work in a team, bosses everyone around and some even accuse him of using voodoo in the games. Now in for...